#i was of course very nice polite and calm during this entire interaction because it was a bunch of fucking kids

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part Nine)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Age Gap, Smut, Domestic Violence, Angst

Words: 3,064

Please comment and interact...it's what keeps this blog going

***************************

Almost a week had passed since you stayed with Cillian at his unit in Galway and, despite the fact that he was away, things had further developed between you as emotions grew with every day.

He was different to any man you had ever been involved with and, whilst your involvement with each other stemmed from purely sexual lust and hunger, you had evolved from this to something different entirely within a matter of days.

Of course, you knew each other for years and, whilst you had a crush on Cillian for as long as you could remember, you never thought that it would be like this and, for Cillian, this feeling had never been mutual.

Whilst he always considered you to be attractive and very intelligent and kind, he never felt any emotional connection or sexual attraction towards you, at least not until that weekend when you visited Denise, which was also the first time he saw you again after six months had passed.

On that night during which you slept with each other, he let his sexual hunger take over his reasonable thinking mind after he saw you, in his kitchen, making pancakes and you had since, quite openly, talked about it. He saw sleeping with you as a mistake but, ever since that night, he couldn’t get you out of his head.

For you, things weren’t just sexual anymore and you began to feel strongly for Cillian which worried you especially since he was open about the fact that he didn’t know where things were heading with you. The fact that you are his daughter’s friend and much younger than him clearly bothered him and he sometimes admitted to you that he felt strange about building such a strong connection with you. A relationship was not what he wanted but he liked you, a lot.

As such, during the past week, Cillian called you every day after he finished filming and you were talking to him more frequently than you were talking to Denise.

During his breaks, he would also text you and check in on you as you were in the middle of exams. He always remembered when you had a test and asked you how it went and, when you told him that you didn’t feel confident with your results, he reassured you that you probably did well and, even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. According to him, a pass is a pass and you needed to lower your expectations of yourself just a little.

To your surprise, he also remembered appointments you had scheduled and things that bothered you which meant that, unlike other men you had been with, he was actually listening and was interested in what you had to say.

Some nights, you had spent hours on the phone or Skype, joking about things you had encountered that day or talking about books, literature and music, which is something you both enjoyed.

Politics and social issues were other matters you could discuss endlessly and, even when you were of different opinions, you would be able to argue in the most satisfying way. Cillian always treated you as an equal and even opened up to you about his divorce from Denise’s mother recently.

Another thing you learned from Cillian was that Denise was brining along her friend Amalie to Manchester to stay at his apartment and, when you gave him a warning about her and her intentions, he reminded you that he only had eyes for you. In fact, he always showered you with compliments and all of his compliments were genuine and came natural to him, helping you immensely with your self-consciousness.

Unfortunately, whilst you enjoyed how engaging Cillian was with you every day, like a teenager in love, with the constant text messages and calls, your father soon got suspicious and confronted you about.

****

“Dad, I am almost 22, you don’t need to be spying on me” you said somewhat frustrated as he asked you who you were talking to every day.

“You live under my roof and you answer me young lady” he said harshly and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes just as your mother stepped in, trying to calm him down. Your father was much older, approaching sixty and fairly old school in the way he expected you and your sister to behave.

“A friend…I am talking to a friend” you explained and your father asked again, telling you not to lie to him because he would know.

“And this friend of yours, you can’t meet him…you just text and talk? You can’t bring him to our house and introduce him?” your father asked along with a million other questions.

“No, I can’t. he lives in Dublin and I, most certainly, wouldn’t bring him into this…” you said somewhat irritated by the interrogation.

“Dublin, huh? So, you met him when you visited Denise?” he asked and you nodded.

“It’s not her brother, is it? Because I really don’t want you to get involved with him. I don’t like this family and their views” your father said harshly, causing you to chuckle.

“Their views?” you asked somewhat surprised and your father nodded.

“Yes, their views on what’s right and wrong. If I recall correctly, this girl you call your friend was going out with someone of the same gender for a while. God didn’t tell us to do this but her parents obviously didn’t have an issue with it which, apparently is called new age parenting. Everything is pro choice and lets their children decide what is best for them even if they lack experience” your father went on to say and you couldn’t help but shake your head at his absurd commentary but, he continued and you soon learned what had happened between your parents and Denise’s parents many years ago, before which your mother had called Denise’s mother her friend as well.

According to your father, Cillian had voiced his opinion to your father when it was found out that your sister was pregnant following a short affair with a man she had met through university.

Cillian’s ex wife had told your sister that she had options, causing your father to get rather angry with her, which is when Cillian stepped in, supporting what Denise’s mother had said.

She had offered your sister help but your father considered this to be a betrayal and, whilst your mother maintained contact with Denise’s mother for a while, your father refused to get involved with Denise’s family thereafter.

Cillian’s often all so public views angered him and he made this very clear. He didn’t want you to be involved with his children and you couldn’t help but laugh about the irony of it all when you found out about this incident.

“Jesus Dad, that was years ago and not everyone has to have the same views as you” you said before confirming that you weren’t seeing Denise’s brother.

“No, they don’t, but I am just looking out for you and, instead of acting the way you do, throwing yourself at guys with new age ideas, I would much prefer if you met a nice young catholic man” your father explained, causing your mother to fume in anger with him.

“Throwing myself at guys? Listen, I am not sure what slut you think I am but it’s nice to know that you think so little of me” you said before storming upstairs and into your room.

Having to deal with this crap bothered you and you knew that, when this semester came to an end, you could be moving out now that you saved enough money for a bond and rent.

*****

As the evening went on, you spent all of your time in your room, reading a book until, finally, at around 9 o’clock you saw a notification on Skype.

‘Hey Beautiful’ Cillian said as you picked up and popped in your headphones.

Cillian apologised for calling through so late and informed you that he was finally able to speak to Laura, the woman he was seeing before you.

He knew that you wanted to know about it and he had no problem telling you what you needed to hear while telling you that you had absolutely nothing to worry about.

It was Laura’s first day back on set after a week-long break and Cillian told you that she wasn’t exactly impressed when he stood her down.

‘She probably likes you…I can understand that’ you said calmly but Cillian told you that he was pretty clear with her about what this was between them.

‘Well, in retrospect, I shouldn’t have gotten involved with her’ he went on and you were quite happy to change the topic by this point and told him that you were aching for him.

‘Well, I am not sure that I can help you with that’ Cillian chuckled.

‘We could have Skype sex I suppose’ you giggled.

‘Skype Sex?’ Cillian laughed before telling you that he didn’t think that this would be a good idea since you were at home with your parents and you had previously complained about the thin walls of the house.

‘Oh Jesus Cillian, my father already thinks I am a slut, so I personally don’t care if anyone hears me getting myself off. I’ve got my earphones in and am the only one who can hear you and my door is locked’ you chuckled.

‘Your father thinks that you are a slut? Do you want to talk about that?’ Cillian asked concerned but you shook your head.

‘I rather not. You met him and know what he is like’ you explained.

‘I do. He takes God very seriously’ Cillian said before continuing on. ‘But, if you have problems at home you need to tell me please. You can stay at my apartment. I can get my house keeper to meet you there with the key’ he offered.

‘You said you were going to stay out of stuff between me and my parents just as I would stay out of matters between you and Denise’ you then said, reminding him on the conversation about your respective roles which you had three days ago.

‘Yes I did, but I can’t if I have to worry about you’ Cillian said firmly.

‘There is no need to worry Cillian. I promise’ you reassured him. ‘Well, actually, I need you to worry about my sexual needs right now’ you then went on to say with sly grin.

‘Through Skype?’ Cillian asked again somewhat concerned.

‘Yes’ you said with a cheeky smile as you settled more into your bed with your laptop.

‘Alright then, show me what you are wearing” Cillian said as he cut straight to the point.

‘Can you see?’ you asked as you adjusted the cam and showed Cillian your dark blue lingerie.

‘Very nice…but…I think you would look even better if you were naked, don’t you think?’ Cillian said somewhat nervously and you nodded in agreement.

‘Well, I suppose I should strip for you and you should strip for me’ you giggled as you seductively took off your bra slowly, showing Cillian your perky breasts through the camera.

You heard him inhale sharply as he watched you and took his t-shirt off at the same time, leaving him in nothing but his CK briefs.

Without words you then scooted back on the bed and removed your undies, allowing him to watch before you sat down on the bed, spread eagle and naked, giving him a good view of your mound.

‘Jesus Y/N, you are so fucking beautiful and sexy…touch yourself for me, nice and slow’ Cillian breathed out and you let his soothing voice wash over you, knowing what he was trying to do and happily helping him succeed.

‘Like this?’ you moaned as you began to run circles over your clit with your fingers.

‘Yes, just like that babe’ Cillian groaned as he shuffled down his briefs and you were finally getting a good look of his hard cock.

‘Oh god, I want to stroke your cock so badly’ you moaned as you seductively opened your pussy lips with your fingers, opening yourself up before reaching for the black vibrator you kept in your bedside table.

‘Well, someone's particularly horny tonight’ Cillian chuckled as he watched you play with your pussy, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You mumbled a small "mhm," and he laughed.

‘Good, that's exactly how I like you, so naughty and needy’ Cillian said as he slowly began to stroke his hard member.

You barely registered his words enough to answer with another "mhm," but your subconscious managed it. Your weak answer elicited another delicious chuckle from the other end of the line.

"Why don't you show me how this little toy of yours works?” Cillian then asked as he watched you eagerly.

“I was just waiting for you to ask” you giggled as you began to run your fingers along your stomach and back up to your chest, leaving a trail of goosebumps their wake before reaching for the vibrator and turning it on.

“Put into your sweet pussy babe, let me see it” Cillian groaned and you moan in response, barely processing his words but still understanding enough to answer and do what he asked.

"I bet your pussy is already dripping” he said as you slid the vibrator into you slowly. He was right, you could feel your wetness pooling.

“I am so fucking wet and I wish it would be your cock inside me” you moaned as you began to stroke the toy in and out of you.

Cillian was groaning on the other side, his eyes full of lust and desire for you and you let out a quiet moan as you watched him with the same desire and hunger while you were pleasuring yourself.

“Good girl, keep going…” Cillian tells you and you moan again hearing it.

“Tell me how much you are aching for my cock” he then said you moaned again.

“I want your cock so badly, fuck…I want your cum inside me, dripping out of my wet little pussy” you moaned, eliciting a groan from Cillian as he began to stroke his cock harder and faster.

“Such a naughty needy girl, aren’t you? I can’t wait to be inside you again and make you cum over and over again” Cillian said with a laboured breath and you are barely listening at this point.

“I want you to cum for me and show me this dripping pussy when you do…I fucking love hearing your moans, so fucking sexy…common babe….let go” Cillian said, knowing that you were close and your orgasm rolled over you as soon as the word 'cum' left his lips, and although your sensitive clit was screaming at your hand to stop, you couldn't.

‘Oh god fuck, yes…’ you moaned as you came hard and fast.

“That’s it babe, don’t stop” he instructed as your moans continuously spilled from your mouth, and you were not even sure what you were saying or if you were forming words at all. The only thing in your head is a deliciously heavy fog and Cillian’s voice guiding you to do what he wanted.

“Don’t stop, keep fucking your sweet little pussy babe” Cillian ordered as he knew you weren’t done and, just as he did, you let out a high-pitched moan, bordering on a scream, as an even stronger orgasm washed over your body.

‘Cum for me babe…I want to see all this cum’ you moaned in return, focusing on the delicious image in front of you as Cillian was stroking his cock and, just when you finally come back down you heard Cillian groan loudly.

“Fuck” he groaned as he stroked his cock hard and fast you watched rope after rope of cum spurt onto his stomach.

‘Oh god, what a waste, I want to lick your cum off your skin so badly” you breathed out as Cillian came down from his high slowly and used a tissue to clean himself up.

‘Stop saying those things or you have to stay on the line for another twenty minutes at least’ Cillian chuckled as he could feel his manhood stir again.

‘Well, I think you shouldn’t cum again until you come to visit me in Galway the weekend after next…I want you to save it all for me’ you said, causing Cillian to cock an eyebrow as he pulled his briefs back up.

‘Fat chance babe’ he chuckled, knowing that going without an orgasm for nine days would be rather difficult for him.

Eventually, after a lot of begging, he agreed to try but he wouldn’t be able to make you any promises to this effect.

***

The following day, you went to work and then university thereafter but, when you eventually returned home, your father was in a worse mood than ever before.

‘Can you explain this to me?’ he asked angrily as soon as you walked through the door and you couldn’t help but gulp when he pointed to a white box which he had placed on the living room table.

‘You went through my personal belongings’ you huffed out as the box contained some lingerie and intimate items, including toys, that you were hiding in the bottom of your dresser.

‘Again Y/N, this is my house, my rules and I don’t want my daughter to own filth like this’ he said, after having heard small pieces of your conversation with Cillian on Skype the evening before.

It was obvious to you that your father was appalled and you were outraged that he had been snooping through your room and, as you would later learn, had even tried to access your computer.

‘I can’t fucking believe you dad. These are my personal belongings and you have no right to go through them’ you huffed out and, just as you did, you could feel a sharp strike across your face.

‘Get this shit out of my house and talk to me with some respect’ he said harshly, leaving you speechless and in tears as he walked away, leaving your cheek burning red.

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #Cillian Murphy x Reader #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you

[fernpost]

Cycle 0 - Interviews

[read on ao3]

[next]

Taako Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in transmutation and inventive magical applications.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

Davenport likes to think of himself as calm and composed. It’s hard to throw him off. He has to be in order to have gotten this far in his mission as fast as he has.

But when he turns around from shutting the door to see his interviewee with his feet kicked up on the table, twirling a wand through his fingers, he’s a little shocked. He’s been doing these interviews for two days now, and even the more relaxed and confident people have held a bit more sense for decorum.

It’s a bit rude.

It’s also a little interesting.

He sits at his desk, pulling the elf’s papers away from his boots (shiny, and though they look expensive he can see they’re worn down and well taken care of) and glances down. “Tell me, Taako Taaco, what makes you want to explore the planerverse?”

“Bored.”

If the feet on the desk threw him off for a second, that floors him entirely. “Bored?”

“I’ve got nothing else to do on this plane, why not, you know?”

“No burning desire to go further than any being has gone before?” That’s one of the normal responses, the well-planned out speeches he keeps getting in response to his opening question.

The elf crosses his feet, leaning back somehow further into the provided chair. Davenport worries for a second that he may fall as he continues on, “that’s cool too, I guess. But I figure, why wouldn’t you want the great Taaco name aboard your ship.”

Davenport picks up a pen from his table and makes a small note on the paperwork, “no offense, Mr. Taaco, but you’re rather cavalier about this interview that determines whether or not you’re accepted into a program that may redefine our understanding of the world.”

The elf shrugs and takes his feet off of Davenport’s desk, flashing him a smirk, “you’ve seen my sister’s paperwork, yeah? No way you’re not going to accept her, and we’re a package deal. Says it right there in bold at the top of my application, my man.” It does, in fact, say that at the top. Cursive words noting how he refuses to accept any position on the ship if his sister isn't there too. When reviewing who he was interviewing today, he saw similar words on Lup Taaco’s paperwork.

“You’re very confident in your sister’s abilities.” Davenport begins, pausing for a second as he notes the way the elf begins to tense up before continuing, “however, I wouldn’t sell yourself so short. You also graduated top of your class, and excelled in the art of transmutation multiple times. One of your letters of recommendation even noted how you made many spells easier to cast, somatically speaking.”

“What can I say, I’ll find any short cut I can.”

Davenport makes another note on his paper. “Now, I do need to ask about your record of petty theft.”

“Oh, natch.”

Lup Taaco. 114. Elf. Wizard; Specialization in evocation and applied magic regarding planar research.

Previous experience: Top of class at Tredore, Academy of Magics and Technology; recently graduated.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of petty theft.

“Lup Taaco, it is nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain.” The woman in front of him smiles. The resemblance to her brother couldn’t be more clear, and though her demeanor is quite similar, she at least doesn’t have her feet on his desk.

Not that his desk is anything fancy, but the point stands. “I’m not technically the captain yet, you know.”

“Potato, potato.”

Davenport is fairly certain that’s not how that phrase is used. “You did research into the planes at Tredore, correct?”

“Quite a bit, yeah. I’m sure my brother told you?”

The slight tilt of her head and lit of her voice tells Davenport this is some sort of test, which is confusing and a bit disconcerting, considering he is the one conducting the interview. He checks a quick box on his papers. “He talked you up a bit, yes. But this is your own interview, and I wanted to discuss your own knowledge with you, personally.”

She smiles, a touch more warmth to it than her previous attitude. “Oh, of course. Did quite a bit of studying at Tredore. First real school we attended. Kinda boring at times, you know?”

“If you’re accepted into this program, it’s going to be four intense months of studying and teaching you the more complex workings of the ship. Plus the two months of actually being on the ship.”

“That’s the fun stuff. Not a third semester in a row of another language I already figured out most of years ago.”

“How many languages do you speak, Ms. Taaco?”

“Including common, five languages.”

“Impressive.” Davenport himself only speaks three. “Now, I would like to ask you about your criminal record, if you don’t mind?”

Her smile grew sharp as she laughs.

Honestly, he isn’t surprised. Her explanation is the same as her brothers. Grew up on the road, needed food and other items on occasion. Didn’t always run fast enough. Davenport can’t fault them, and certainly won’t hold it against them.

He glances down at her paperwork, about to ask another question about her education, when she speaks up. “I’ve got a question for you, Captain.”

“Oh?”

“The ship- we’re really going with the name ‘The Starblaster’?”

Davenport sighs. He knew this question was coming, but he was expecting it to come during a press conference from a reporter, not a potential shipmate. “Yes. To be fair, it was a communal name we put to a vote from everyone who worked on building the engine.”

Ms. Taaco smiles. “Dope.”

Barry J. Bluejeans. 37 years old. Human. Wizard; specialization in applied magic regarding bonds and planar research.

Previous experience: Current assistant professor at Duffman University of the Arcane, part-time employee at the Institute of Planer Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Previous altercations regarding necromancy; no crimes against the nature of life and death ever committed.

Mr. Bluejeans is an interesting man. By the look of him, you’d expect to see him fumbling his way through a PTA meeting for his two kids. Instead, Davenport is staring down the word ‘necromancy’ on his paperwork on an application regarding literal planar travel on a ship called 'the Starblaster.'

So far, the interview has been going well. He’d listened to the man explain his research into the arcane, and he’d understood planar travel as well as any of the current scientists and engineers at the Institute. He was called in often for conferences and meetings about the bond engine. He’d seen the man walking around on occasion. They’d never been in a meeting together before, but he’d seemed nice.

But he also had a history of necromancy.

Now, Davenport doesn’t like to judge people. However, being in an enclosed space with someone who needed to specify he had never technically committed “crimes against the nature of humanity” isn’t the most comforting.

But, he was a smart man. Easy to get along with, too. So far. Necromancy notwithstanding.

Best to get it over with, “so, Mr. Bluejeans. I do need to ask about your criminal record-”

“Oh! Yeah, I never killed anyone. Or un- killed anyone. Uh, resurrected, I mean. Just did lots of studying into the application of necromancy and necromantic spells. Got in trouble because I toed the line of ‘research’ and ‘bringing my cat back to life,’ but got a stern talking to. Didn’t try it again, and don’t plan on needing to deal with those types of authorities again.”

Okay, normal enough answer, far as the situation applies-

“My current research into it has stayed purely theoretical, and it won’t interfere with the mission at all.”

So the man is still into necromancy.

Davenport glances down at the man’s file, thick with it’s attached papers Bluejeans has done on planar research. He’s not even stuck up about his level of education, and that’s extremely rare for the field.

Holding back a sigh, Davenport asks, “Can you explain the paper you wrote on the outer planes interactions with the inner planes for me?”

It was a really good paper.

But the man is still into necromancy.

Lucretia. 20. Human. Chronicler; Specialization in journalism.

Previous experience: Due to multiple NDA, she is unable to give us the exact number and titles of books she has written, but she sent letters of recommendation from Duke Rensburg, Lady Norabelle, and Warren of the Seatree Clan.

Criminal Record: Acquisition and attempted use of a false ID.

“So, Ms. Lucretia, I understand you cannot provide us with most examples of your works, but from what you have provided, you seem to be very, very good.”

“I like to think so, yes.” The young woman in front of him seems polite. She’s quiet; he saw her waiting outside with a few others before her interview, and while most of them were engaged in some awkward small talk, she sat away from them. Likely partially due to her age- she is much younger than the people outside- but she also simply seems quiet.

Which wouldn’t be the worst quality in someone you would be sharing a small, enclosed space with for an extended period of time. But, if she couldn’t bond with the others sufficiently, the bond engine won’t work.

(Hell, the bond engine was already finicky, they figured out the tech only a month ago, and they only have four months to bond an entire crew to pilot it and-)

“Can you explain to me why you acquired a fake ID and tried to use it at a, uh,” Davenport glances down at the records in front of him, holding back a chuckle, “at the forbidden section of the Library of Runar?”

Lucretia looks uncomfortable for a second, and he’s sure if the lighting in the room were better he would be able to see her flush with embarrassment. She gives him a hesitant smile, “I can’t get into the explicit details, but I was working on a book for an older client whose memory was becoming patchy, and I wanted to confirm some details before I put their name to it. They wouldn’t allow me into the section without the proper documents, but my client refused to agree that I should double check his work, even though I was almost certain he was wrong, so I simply… found a way to get past their guard. I wasn’t going to steal anything and I was going to use the proper equipment to read through the documents.”

Davenport smiles, “pursuit of knowledge and truth is important to you, then?”

“I don’t think spreading lies, especially in that context, is very honorable, no.” Her hands are folded in her lap now, and she seems a bit more relaxed.

Considering the others he is planning on accepting, he may be wrong about her getting along with them. Anyone willing to break the law just to prove an old man wrong would at least get along with him. Davenport refuses to have any pushovers aboard his ship.

Magnus Burnsides. 19. Fighter; Specialization in protection fighting and mechanical engineering.

Previous experience: Current bouncer at Apex Club. Currently enrolled in Gallier’s Fighter Academy and College.

Criminal Record: One count of assault and battery, appealed for defense of another person present. One count of indecent exposure and public intoxication.

Davenport will be the first to admit it can be tricky to follow human aging patterns, but he knows he’s not mistaken in thinking the man in front of him is barely out of “child” territory. Nineteen is a very, very small amount of time to be alive. Also, a very, very small amount of time to learn important things, like how to run what is basically a ship right out of a science fiction novel- complete with breakthrough technology.

Despite this, it’s hard to not find the young man in front of him to be endearing, and mostly knowledgeable in the things they need him to be.

“Magnus. You’re very young, one of the youngest applicants we have. What makes you think you’re qualified as the head of security of the ship?”

The young man in front of him- Gods, he really is young- grins and lifts his arms to flex, a show of pride and ego almost unbefitting of an interview setting, “Have you seen my muscles? I’m very strong, and a very good fighter.”

Many of today’s interviews have been quite different than he was expecting.

“I was referring more to job experience.”

“Oh!” Magnus shifts in his seat, fingers drumming against the table as he thinks. “I worked as a bouncer for a club while I was in college and did, if I must toot my own horn, a very good job. You should have a letter of recommendation from the owner-” He leans forwards, reaching a hand out as if to look through his own files to show him the letter.

“Yes, I did read through it. She was very thorough in stating how eager you were to help.” Davenport glances down at the papers in front of him, holding back a sigh. It truly was a glowing review of this young man. While his grades from the aforementioned college weren’t the highest, especially in classes one might consider important for an institute of planar research, the two letter of recommendations he submitted from teachers of his explained how Burnsides was very persistent when he wanted to learn something he didn’t know. He also had taken quite a few classes regarding vehicles- not enough to claim the young man was an expert but enough to provide a solid basis to show him how things worked and could be repaired on the ship.

The kid’s attitude was something of a breath of fresh air in this place. However, there was one glaring concern.

“I was also a bit concerned about the criminal record we have on file for you. Assault and battery as well as the indecent exposure and public-”

“In my defense for the second one, I was drunk with some friends and maybe thought it’d be funny to streak in the lake. Who hasn’t been to a party that gets a little out of hand.” He holds his hands out as if to say “am I right?”

Off the record, Davenport is inclined to agree that he was right. On the record, he is choosing to ignore it. “And the assault and battery? The file says it was in defense of a young person.”

Burnsides grins, “that’s how I got hired as the bouncer!”

He waits a moment, expecting Magnus to continue. When it seems the young man is assuming that is enough explanation, he prompts, “by beating up a man outside the club?”

“Yeah! He was harassing someone outside, and I was walking home and passed by. I told him to step off, and he didn’t. So I decked him, and he was out right away.”

It lined up with the records he had, and honestly, seeing someone so ready to step up to the defense of a stranger was a good quality. Better than some of the older applicants who were much more… formal in their training. He wonders briefly how Burnsides would react to an altercation against someone with magic.

Glancing down at his records, he guesses he would run headfirst without thinking.

Stifling a small grin, Davenport continues, “Now, tell me. Assume we’re up in space, and something goes wrong with the bond engine. What would your course of action be, Mr. Burnsides?”

Merle Hitower Highchurch. 214. Cleric; Specialization in botany, religion, and medical treatment.

Previous experience: Current botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration. Professor of botany at Narvick’s University for four years.

Criminal Record: Multiple counts of loitering.

The door is pushed all the way open before Davenport can even call out the next person.

A short dwarf slides into the room with a wide grin, “hey Dav!” A mug of tea is pressed into his hands.

“Hello, Merle. You do know this needs to be at least a little formal, yes?”

“Formal schmormal. Ask me your silly questions already, bud.” Merle Highchurch, resident botanist at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration, plops right down in the seat he’d taken to commandeering once a week, for the past three weeks.

Davenport had seen him around before, but a botanist in an institute designed for exploring other planes that had little capabilities to actually go to those places yet was rarely busy, and even more rarely called upon. He still barely knew the guy, but after the day they’d gotten stuck in the elevator for ten minutes when it broke down, the dwarf had come to his office for tea each Wednesday.

It was a bit strange, but the tea was good.

“Tell me about your work experience.”

Merle laughs heartily, “they barely have me do anything around here, ‘cept tend to the couple of plants they’ve grabbed from the ground plane.”

“It’s the Elemental Plane of Earth, and don’t sell yourself short, Merle. This is basically a job interview, you know.”

Merle slurps loudly at his own mug, “aren’t you planning on nepotism hiring me, because we’re buds?”

“That isn’t even what that word means, Merle.”

“Isn’t it?”

Davenport stares into the tea, “is this made from the Earth plant?”

“Maybe?”

Davenport. 276. Captain and navigator; Specialization in mechanical engineering and arcane components combined with contemporary technology.

Previous Experience: Crewmate on the Lady Blue for twenty years. Graduated from Grensville University. Current staff at the Institute of Planar Research and Exploration.

Criminal Record: Unlawful resistance of orders from captain, raising of commotion on board ship while employed.

Davenport handed the six files over to Selune, “These are them.”

The halfling woman flips through them, eyebrows raising higher with each one she sees. “You’re sure you grabbed the right ones? A few of these I understand, but you do know we had the Issaiah Broler apply.”

He folds his hand in front of him, nodding. “I also know that during the interview he made me want to pour my tea on his lap. There’s no chance of getting the bond engine going with him. These are the six I picked. They’re all qualified- and the ones that are less educated in the specifics in the field I’m sure will pick up on the important information quickly. The Taaco twins already will give the bond engine a huge boost. Ms. Lucretia will ensure we have everything chronicled, something I’m sure you can appreciate, Selune. Mr. Bluejeans previous work shows he will thrive given the opportunities awaiting us. Mr. Highchurch is an educated man, and I trust him to keep the crew healthy and provide ample information on anything botany related we encounter, and I’m certain Mr. Burnsides will provide ample help in any task we show him how to do.” He sighs, glancing out the window of her office. There were a few people lingering outside in the courtyard of the Institute. “We have been given a tremendous opportunity to explore beyond what we can imagine, Selune. The last thing I want is to be bogged down by people stuck in their ways, who have been working in this field long enough to have their preconceived notions about what to expect and who will react badly when they’re proven wrong. I trust my own judgement in picking a crew, and I hope you trust my abilities to get these people ready to set sail in four months.”

What he doesn’t say is that he doesn’t want a bunch of stuffy jackasses on his ship. He’s not even sure picking all the over-qualified people would pass through the higher-ups' inspection of the crew. The people he picked were qualified enough to get a quick sign-off, but not too much. Anyone “overqualified” would probably get rejected. The ship had been built in basically six months. It’d get them off the ground, sure. It wasn’t going to explode on them once they got up there, but it wasn’t safe. There was a reason Davenport was the captain at all.

The six candidates in those files didn’t have a name for themselves as “important” to any stuffy scientific group or noble family. These people he picked were just that- people. A group of people who he believed deserved this opportunity. If anyone was getting the chance to make a name for themselves- to have the chance to redefine everything they know about the planar systems, he wanted to make sure they deserved the chance. A dangerous chance, sure. But what was science if not a little risky.

She sighs, opening the file on top. Her hand reaches for her pen, “Davenport, I got the final say on the name of the ship, I suppose the least I can do is give you final say on the crew.” She begins to write ‘approved’ at the top of the file, flipping through each one before giving him a pointed look. “But when I get angry calls about how you approved a bunch of nobodies and two people not even old enough to drink, I’m transferring them straight to your crystal.”

“And I will not be answering a single one.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to, Captain.”

#davenport #taako #lup #magnus burnsides #lucretia #barry bluejeans #merle highchurch #taz balance #the stolen century #my works

[lokifantasies]

Healing PART 1

Summary: You and Loki try to help Jade the best you can.

A/N: Remember! The more you guys interact with the characters' blogs, the more you can help influence and shape the story and dialogue!

Character(s): Loki & Jade

Read the Mischievous Life series here!

Follow Jade, Loki, and Reader!

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@1marvelnerd3000 @agentkinghorn @donttouchmylaevateinn @emerald-alone @eyesbluelikethetitanic @fa-me @geeky-politics-46 @holdmytesseract @itsybitchylittlewitchy @jeongadelarinia @lokistoriesblog @lougy @melianisnothere @mm2305 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @nms224 @shraddhadeveshvikram @xoxoloverb

True to his word, Loki's there when Jade wakes up – having not shut his eyes for a moment while his daughter slept the best she could.

However, you and Loki made a decision during the night, via text, that Jade needs some kind of professional help.

"What?" Jade scoffs as Loki tells her that he's taking her to see a therapist. "Dad...no. Hell no!"

Loki gives his daughter a sympathetic look. "Jade...we just want what's bes -,"

"No," Jade harshly cuts him off. "You just want me out of your hair."

The god sighs in frustration. "No, Jade," he argues. "You know damn well that's not true." Loki approaches his daughter and places his hands on her shoulders. "I can't stand seeing you like this...do you understand that I had to physically stop you from hanging yourself?"

The sixteen-year-old scoffs and turns her back to her dad – forcing him to let go of her. "It's just funny that you think I'm actually going to speak to some stranger."

Jade gives her dad the silent treatment the entire way to the doctor's office – angrily staring out the window – feeling disgusted with Loki's and your decision. Loki bites his fingernails the entire way – knowing that Jade is beyond angry with him, but he tells himself that you and he are doing what's best for her. Loki sits with Jade in the waiting room until her name is called. Begrudgingly, Jade gets up and walks towards the stranger that she's supposed to talk to. Jade being Jade – of course, she does nothing of the sort. The teenager sits on the large, comfy couch with her legs crossed – taking out her phone to scroll on social media and talk to some of her online friends about how angry she is with you and Loki. The therapist, whose name is Dr. Alice, talks to Jade anyway.

"Is there anything you'd like to ask, Jade?" Dr. Alice nicely asks the teen. Jade looks up at the doctor, scoffs, and rolls her eyes before going back to her phone. "Okay," Dr. Alice says with a calm smile. "That's fine...it's your first time...it's normal to be nervous."

Oh, honey, Jade thinks, if you only knew how furious I am at the thought of having to be here at 8:30 in the morning.

Dr. Alice continues to talk, and Jade continues to block her out – giggling at memes and posts she comes across on Tumblr – venting to her friend about the situation she's being forced into. Time goes by slow for Jade, but finally, she notices that she has thirty more minutes before she can leave.

And as soon as the clock strikes 10:30, Jade jumps up from the couch and rushes out into the lobby – storming past her father and out to the car. Loki gives the doctor a sympathetic look before turning and following his teenager.

"What was that?" Loki asks – becoming angry with Jade. Jade doesn't respond – choosing to bury herself in her phone instead. "Jade, I know you're mad," Loki continues calmly. "But...please, my love...please let us help you."

"Thanks for making me miss my trigonometry test," Jade mutters under her breath – looking out the window as Loki begins to take her to school. "How can you help me with that? I'm not allowed to do a make-up test."

Loki looks over to Jade when he comes to a red light. "I'll figure something out, okay? You'll be able to make it up."

Fifteen minutes later, Loki pulls up to Jade's school – the angry teen slamming the door to her father's Mercedes as she storms inside. Loki sits for a while – pondering what he can do to help her heal.

A thought occurs just before Loki is going to leave.

"Hello?" a female teacher calls out – hearing a knock on her door. She had been told minutes earlier that a parent wanted to meet with her. Loki approaches the math teacher – his hands behind his back and a fond smile on his face.

"Hello, Ms. Matthews," Loki begins nicely. "I'm Loki...Jade's father. I would like to talk to you about how Jade can make up her trigonometry test that she missed this morning."

Ms. Matthews motions for Loki to sit down in the chair across from her desk.

"Jade's a fantastic student," she smiles at the god. "But I'm afraid I don't give make-up tests." Her tone is sympathetic – making it seem like she wishes she could help. "Jade's grade only went down to a 92% from a 100% with the zero for the test, but I'm sure she'll be just fine."

Loki takes a deep breath. "My daughter didn't miss it because she overslept or decided to skip class."

"I make it very clear at the beginning of each school year that -,"

"I'm the reason she missed it," Loki interrupts – practically pleading with the teacher. "You know what Jade's gone through...she needs something in her life to go right for once. Her grade being affected so much will break her heart, and honestly, I'm sick and tired of seeing my little girl's heart broken. Something that may seem small and insignificant to you may not be to someone else." By this point, the God of Mischief has tears in his eyes – trying as hard as he can to fight them back. "Honestly, I don't think she even cares about the grade. She needs something to help her feel better about herself...and math does that."

About half an hour later, Jade is walking into the cafeteria when she's halted by the sight in front of her.

It's Loki.

He's sitting at a table with no one else around.

"You've gotta be kidding me," Jade mumbles under her breath – pulling out her phone to text her friend and let her know how insane her dad is being. "Why the fuck are you here?" she asks herself.

As Jade tries to slip out of the cafeteria, she's approached by one of her friends.

"Hey, Jade?" her friend, Sarah, calls out to the goddess. "Um, so, what's up with your dad over there? Why's he crying?"

Jade's heart drops at the knowledge that her father is crying. Not only is he crying, but he's doing it in public...not caring who sees him.

Jade slowly approaches the table that Loki is sitting at. His elbows are on the table, and he's crying quietly as his hands block his eyes – letting his tears drop onto the blue table.

Carefully and quietly, Jade sits down in the chair across from her dad. "Daddy?"

#loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fandom #dad!loki #loki x reader #loki x you #mischievous life #ongoing series #requests open #send requests #loki family #jade lokisdottir #interactive story #loki angst

[fakecrfan]

could i prevail upon you to analyse Basira’s short-tempered paranoid phase ?

---

Okay I put off answering this for a while because I wanted to make it Super Well Researched and perfect and everything like that. But it seems my perfectionism has stopped me from like, actually making significant progress so!! Instead I am just going Blab all of my Basira thoughts in a disorganized manner without worrying about being perfectly insightful. 

So HERE IS THE THING. 

Most of the criticism I see of Basira is around her Being Mean To Jon in season 4, of her being too Cold. Like this comment on the wiki.

Anyway, this is really frustrating to me because in my humble opinion:

1: Basira’s flaw is not “too mean, too cold, and too practical.” It’s passivity and numbing down her own reactions to things. Therefore,

2: Her expressing anger and coming down hard on Jon is actually a positive development in her arc, even if not everything she does during this phase is the greatest. 

To elaborate on Basira’s flaw being passivity: When we are introduced to her, one of the things that came up in her statement is that another officer was racist to her, and she let it slide.

Basira is later revealed to--not have direct confirmation of Daisy killing, exactly. But she has a pretty good idea of what’s happening and she doesn’t rock the boat by trying to find out more. But I think the biggest glaring sign of her passivity is the fact that she gets basically forced to join the Institute on the threat of death and she just… goes with it?

MAG 102

MARTIN

Basira’s the only one doing – well, she seems weirdly calm about the whole thing. Like it’s… like she’s on a vacation or something.

ARCHIVIST

Maybe she just suits the academic life.

Basira, when threatened and forced to work for an obviously evil institute just… rolls over and shows her belly. Immediately starts to just sit in the library and read so quietly that Martin completely misses that she’s there. Passivity. Acceptance. Her philosophy, as she tells Martin, is that if you can’t change it you just hunker down and make the best of it.

Of course, the problem with this is… she hasn’t tried to change things very hard before shifting into Acceptance mode, has she? In her statement before the season three finale, we get her briefly talking about why she behaves like this.

MAG 116

My dad would hate me talking like this. He couldn’t stand people who just passively moaned about their problems. He always said, if you don’t like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight and you change it. Whining doesn’t help. I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial.

But not anymore. I’m going to fight, and change it.

Regardless of Basira’s dad’s intentions, he raised her in a way where expressing discomfort is not allowed. You either change things, but if you can’t change them then you shut up. Which of course, if you are powerless and disenfranchised that’s just setting you up for a life of biting your tongue at every injustice that you face, every police officer who sneers “diversity” while giving you a significant look--because you don’t have the power to change it, do you?

But right after that acknowledgement, we get her resolution for moving forward: She’s not going to shut up anymore. She’s going to fight.

I think we really need to keep this resolution of hers in mind when we analyze her season 4 behavior. Yes, her s4 behavior is influenced by other factors: grief at losing Daisy, paranoia after getting attacked by monsters who are after the Institute, guilt at not being able to stop Martin from going with Peter Lukas. 

But more than anything, I think her fierceness in this season is fueled by this rock hard resolution to stop rolling over and fight back. 

If you’re someone who is passive and enabling in this way, and you’ve worked to change yourself, you might be aware of how easy it is to either fall back into old habits or overcorrect. Sometimes it feels like you have to be as direct and harsh as possible because you’re scared that it’s only option besides falling back into passivity. I think that’s what a lot of Basira’s aggression comes from. She wants to be someone who fights but she’s still figuring out how.

So she overcompensates, and she scrambles for how to accomplish this, and she sort of falls back to the example set for her--the one person she saw as resolute.

MAG 116

At least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her. She has no doubts.

Basira wants to be someone who fights. So in season 4, as she’s trying to reconstruct her whole ethos, she latches onto Daisy’s example. But so much of it is a facade, so much of it is her trying to… not be someone she can’t be, exactly, but to become something that she doesn’t know the shape of, yet. 

It’s difficult for her to sustain because it’s so different from her usual mode of interacting with the world. For example, people make a big deal of her threatening to kill Jon if he feeds on people again but… remember her first reaction when she directly saw Jon doing it right in front of her the first time?

MAG 141:

ARCHIVIST

Floyd Matharu. Served on the Dorian from 2011 to 2014. With Salesa.

BASIRA

John, I’m not sure about this.

ARCHIVIST

I am.

Tell me what happened.

Basira gets passive again. Politely indicates to Jon he should stop without raising much of a fuss. And how does Jon respond to Basira when she taks this passive, polite route to trying to stop him?

BASIRA

It wasn’t right.

ARCHIVIST

You could have stopped me.

…

But you wanted to know as well, didn’t you?.

Jon tells her that she could have stopped him. Implies that she’s just as much to blame as he is for what he did, because she didn’t try harder to stop him. And, well. The thing is? Basira believes him. Agrees with him. She’s clearly already trying to become someone who fights and she just rolled right over when an ally did something wrong. So the next time Jon does this she sort of rises to his challenge here.

MAG 148

BASIRA

Yeah. John, We’ve been over this. the key is to not force people to feed you their trauma. You know – just don’t do it?

ARCHIVIST

It’s not that simple.

BASIRA

No. It is. Or I put you down.

She fights him. Pushes back instead of rolling over and being nice and polite. And of course, the blueprint she has for this is Daisy. Using threats and blatant intimidation. 

But you know? Even though she’s not doing things entirely right here, I actually think this is still better than where she was in season 3. She’s seen where she has gone wrong in the past, and she’s struggling to turn herself into a different, better person who actually fights back against wrongness in the world instead of passively accepting it. She’s not there yet, but this? This is still progress.

#basira hussain #my post #my thoughts #meta #tma #long post

[emsemotional]

out of line

Okay so this is a little baby one shot  based on my mental health advocate!mickey headcanon that I posted a little while back. I used to write a lot for various fandoms back in high school, but it’s been a while since I’ve written anything, and even longer since I’ve shared anything I’ve written with anyone other than @lewslew, so please be nice- I definitely have some room to grow with characterization and timing. 

This is taking place post-finale, so I’ve taken some liberties regarding what everyone ends up doing after the series. In my mind, Mickey and Ian buy the Gallagher house themselves, because they’re Southside boys at heart and they need a backyard for their dog (duh). But they’re waiting on their Westside lease to end, so Lip, Tami and Liam are staying in the house while Lip and Debbie fix it up and renovate a little (you can find my whole hc on what everyone’s up to post-series here). I was talking to @iansfreckles a while back about a possible Gallagher/Tamietti family dinner- I’m so interested in how this would go and how the families’ dynamics would interact. SO, this takes place at said Gallagher/Tamietti family cookout, right as Lip and Tami are moving out of the house, and Ian and Mickey are moving in. Cami and Brad’s kids are with Aunt Oopie, I dunno I didn’t want to write them haha. 

Content warning: ignorant/rude comments about individuals with mental illnesses and language akin to that of the show

-

Tami had almost said no when Cory asked to bring her new boyfriend to the Gallagher house. Between the Gallagher and Tamietti families, there were going to be plenty of big personalities under one roof, as is. But Cory had actually asked this time, and she had just babysat Fred during a last minute highlight appointment. Tami had reluctantly agreed and her sister had seemed so happy that she almost forgot her hesitation. 

Looking back, Tami’s decision was questionable. Lip had been able to prepare his family for the rest of the Tamietti’s, explaining the family dynamics and topics to avoid. Chad was a wildcard.

He had burst through the front door laughing loudly beside Brad and Cami, who didn’t seem to think the joke was as funny as Chad did. Cory and Bob followed them in, annoyance clear on Bob’s face. Tami and Lip moved to the door to greet their visitors, Tami depositing Fred in Carl’s lap, where he was sitting on the couch. Carl immediately grabbed the toddler under his arms, grinning at him and lifting him up above his head, making propellor noises on his way down. 

This, this is what Tami had wanted her family to see. The Tamiettis had made it clear that while they tolerated Lip, they thought Tami could do better. They thought he was ill equipped to help raise a family, constantly doubting his ability to provide, and his dedication to his family. Tami had tried to explain Lip’s role in his own family- the patriarch of the Gallagher home, a man who had been taking care of people for his entire life. Perhaps the only way for the other Tamiettis to see the value in the Gallagher side of Fred’s family, was to observe it first hand.

Lip made it to the Tamiettis first, shaking Bob’s hand and taking the handful of bags and jackets that were thrust into his arms. 

“No show Brad!” Tami cheered, hugging her sisters, “You made it!” 

Brad rolled his eyes, lightly clapping Tami on the shoulder, “Yeah, yeah, I’m here.”

Cory turned towards her sister, a wide smile on her face, “Tam, this is Chad, the guy I was telling you about?” 

Tami turned to shake his hand, finally giving him a good look. Truth be told, he looked like every other guy Cory had seriously dated- some tall, brunette, conventionally attractive, straight laced kind of guy. He didn’t seem any different from the other business majors, fraternity boys and bar bouncers that Cory had intruded her to. 

“Tami right? So great to meet you, thanks for inviting me!” 

“Of course, nice to meet you too! Come on in, you guys!” 

The Tamiettis settled into the living room, Cami choosing the seat next to Carl, cooing down to Fred, “There’s my favorite nephew! How are you sweet boy?” 

She ran a gentle hand across Fred’s head before introducing herself to Carl, “I’m Cami, Tami’s sister.” Carl swallowed a smirk at the rhyming names, nodding, “Carl, Lip’s brother.”

“Ah, the one buying the house?” 

“Nah, that’s Ian and Mickey, they’re upstairs somewhere. I’m the cop,” Carl stated proudly.

“Fuck the police!” Mickey’s voice called into the living room in response, as a flash of red and black hair came tumbling down the stairs. All the Tamiettis turned to watch Mickey jog through the living room with Franny on his shoulders, Ian chasing after them. 

“Get him Uncle Mickey!” Franny squealed, “He’s gonna catch us!”

“I’m a little busy running, kid. Hit ‘em or somethin’,” Mickey grunted, scrambling to hand his niece a rubber ball previously balanced on the back of the couch. 

Franny wound up her arm, tossing the ball at Ian’s head with all her six year old might, “Take that, Uncle Ian! You’re dead!”

Ian groaned dramatically, clutching his face and sliding onto the ground. He let out a theatrical sign and closed his eyes, finally defeated. 

Franny cheered as Mickey lifted her off his shoulders, “We did it! We killed him!” Franny dropped down to the ground to check that Ian had accepted his defeat, poking him in the back with the toe of her shoe.

Mickey gave her a crinkly grin, the kind he reserved for Franny and Ian alone- unguarded and childlike. “Sure did! Pretty badass if you ask me.” 

Ian got to his feet, tickling Franny’s stomach as he addressed the room, “Hey, sorry we were in the middle of… a game.” 

“Liquor store robbery!” Franny cheerfully announced. 

 Franny began introducing herself to the unfamiliar faces, sharing that she was in the first grade, enjoyed playing with guns, and wanted to be a welder like her mommy when she grew up. As Liam and Debbie descended the stairs, and the rest of the Gallaghers and Tamiettis introduced themselves, Tami marveled at how smoothly things seemed to be going. No one was yelling, or aggressively drunk, or making a thinly veiled classist comment- yet. 

The two families quickly settled into a comfortable chatter of introductions and the conversation, surprisingly, continued to flow without a hitch. They soon made their way outside, where Debbie and Bob chatted while manning the grill. The other family members scattered across the yard- Liam sat in a lawn chair typing on a laptop, occasionally asking Lip for grammar advice. Ian, in the middle of telling some wild story from his EMT days, was fully emerged in conversation with the rest of the Tamietti family while Mickey and Carl considered how many crimes Carl could theoretically arrest him for, arguing over how many years Mickey would have to serve. 

Everything was great- until Chad decided to open his mouth. They had finished dinner and were crammed into the living room, escaping the Chicago windchill. Chad was sharing one of his own work stories from the construction site he worked on, describing a man who had wandered onto the site and started yelling at Chad and some of his coworkers that week.

“Totally off his rocker,” Chad commented, “He kept telling us about how we were tearing down his house, and that he didn’t give us permission to do this. Just screaming at us, swearing, and he wouldn’t listen when we kept telling him that he trespassing, y’know? Just super crazy- needed a fucking Xanax or something.” 

Ian tensed, fiddling with the ring on his left hand while the other Gallaghers exchanged pointed glances. Tami began to interrupt, clearly in attempt to change the subject, but Chad continued. 

“The next day,” he explained, “the very next day, he came up to us and was asking to bum a smoke, like he didn’t fucking flip his crazy ass on us yesterday, I swear he must’ve been like bipolar or something, acting like we were old pals. Must’ve gotten carted off or killed or something, haven’t seen him since.” 

While the Tamiettis offered a polite chuckle, the Gallaghers remained silent. 

Mickey, who had been sitting on the couch next to Ian, looked up from his folded hands. “So you got something against bipolar people? It’s a fucking mental illness man.” 

Chad smiled, backtracking, “Hey, nah, calm down. He’s just some crazy homeless dude, who cares?” 

“He’s not just some crazy guy, he’s a person with a disease, the fuck’s wrong with you?” Mickey asked. 

Ian placed a hand on his husband’s shoulder shaking his head. “Mick, it’s fine. It doesn’t matter.”

Eyebrows raised comically high, Mickey stood and crossed his arms. “Um, fuck that, it does matter! You’re not a fucking punchline Ian. This is our house, yours and mine, and no one’s going to be talking like that in my house. Obviously no one else is going to say something, and you shouldn’t have to, so I will. I won’t stand for that shit.”

The Tamiettis exchanged horrified looks as the Gallaghers mostly just looked at the floor. Finally Lip spoke up from where he was standing by the TV, “Mental health is uh… a sensitive subject around here. We just… we take it seriously, y’know? First hand experiences and shit.” 

Cory opened her mouth to speak but she quickly stopped when she saw Tami swiftly shake her head in her direction, suggesting she stay out of it. 

Mickey lightly rubbed his eyebrow, “Yo, douchebag, apologize or get the hell out of my house.”

Chad raised his hands in surrender, “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal man, sorry.”

Mickey rolled his eyes with a huff, turning on his heel to walk towards the back of the house. Wordlessly, Ian followed him out the back door, leaving the living room in a heavy silence.

After a moment, Chad breaks the silence, “Look, I really didn’t mean to start something, I was just telling a story. Should I go out and apologize again, try to talk about it?”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Liam replied, “You should give Mickey some time to cool off.” 

“Yeah,” Lip agreed, “I wouldn’t follow them out. Mickey… he gets protective? Always has been, of Ian. Our mom was bipolar, and so’s Ian. He’s stable, doing great, but he’s, uh, he’s been through a lot. It’s just not good joke material around here.”

Chad nodded, silence overtaking the room again. Franny looked up from her coloring book, clearly bored with the turn the night had taken.

“I’m gonna go play with Uncle Mickey and cheer him up!” 

Debbie chuckled from her seat across the room, “Yeah, go bring them some beers Franny.” 

“Okay!” Franny chirped, hopping to her feet and skipping into the kitchen. Debbie gave a soft smile as she watched her daughter, on the way to hang out with her favorite uncles. 

-

From his seat on the back stairs, Ian watched Mickey pace through the yard, grumbling about “Fucking Northside yuppies… and their ignorant bigoted asses… what the fuck is wrong with people?” He glanced over at Ian, his expression softening when he noticed the defeated look on Ian’s face. Mickey paused his pacing, coming to sit next to Ian on the steps. 

“I’m sorry, I know I prolly embarrassed you. Was I out of line man? I just got so fucking mad,” Mickey quietly mumbled, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

Ian gently shook his head, “Don’t apologize. You weren’t out of line… I think I’m just disappointed, y’know? That comments like that still get to me? I should be over it by now, every reminder that I’m sick or different shouldn’t still sting like that. And why do I have to be the one that the conflict and the drama revolves around? Why not fucking Carl or Liam or god… anyone else just for once?

Mickey’s expression softened even further. He nudged his knee into Ian’s leg, “What’s that shit you told me when Terry died? Trauma doesn’t always make fucking sense and recovery isn’t… oh shit, what’s the word? Linear! Recovery isn’t linear. Doesn’t make you fucking weak, just means you’ve been through some shit.”

“Yeah. I guess it was easier to tell you that than it is to tell myself.” 

Mickey hummed in agreement and the two sat in silence for a moment before the back door creaked open. A tiny red head shoved her way through the doorway, arms wrapped tightly around two bottles, frosty with condensation. Franny sat down on the steps between them, silently handing her uncles their beers. Ian accepted his with a dry chuckle, thanking her. Mickey ruffled her hair, offering a small smile. The voices from inside had faded and the night was relatively calm, other than the occasional siren or dog barking. 

Franny, not looking particularly concerned, looked up at them to ask, “Uncle Mickey, why’d you get mad at that guy?”

Mickey rubbed at his eyebrow and let out a sigh. He looked towards Ian, a silent request for him to take the lead on this conversation. He was confident in his ability to discuss the stupidity of princesses or the importance of wearing gloves during a legitimate liquor store robbery with his niece. He knew how to play, and joke, and how to be there when she woke up from a bad dream, stumbling down the stairs with bedhead and snotty tears. Mickey had grown into his role as an uncle, but he still doubted his ability to talk about the tough stuff with anyone other than Ian. 

Ian cleared his throat, taking a second before asking, “Franny, do you know what it means to make a joke at someone else’s expense?” 

Franny’s eyebrows scrunched together and she shook her head. 

“It’s when you make a joke to kind of make fun of someone else. Like to tease them. Y’know how we make cop jokes around Uncle Carl because he’s a cop?”

She nodded, and Ian continued, “That guy… Aunt Tami’s sister’s boyfriend, was making a joke and it ended up being at my expense. That’s what made Uncle Mickey mad. He didn’t mean to make fun of me, but he kind of did. That’s all. Uncle Mickey was just sticking up for me.”

Franny sat for a moment, deep in thought. “I didn’t know he was talking about you.”

“No, he wasn’t. Not directly. He was telling a story about someone else. But he made a comment about him being bipolar. D’you remember when we talked about that? That I have bipolar disorder?” 

Franny nodded, “That’s why you take your special medicine.”

Ian continued, “A lot of people don’t really understand what that means, and sometimes they make jokes about it that aren’t really funny. They’re just kind of… mean. So that’s why we got upset.”

Franny considered this for a minute and asked, “Do you want me to go tell mommy? She says I should tell her if someone’s being mean. She can fix it.” 

Ian smiled a little, patting her little back and shaking his head, “Nah, mommy already knows, she heard. And I think Uncle Mickey did a pretty good job telling him that what he said was wrong.” 

Mickey let out a sarcastic laugh, “And I got more to say to that piece of shit if I ever see his Northside yuppy fucking face again.”

“I think he got the point Mick,” Ian sighed, “Don’t waste your time.” 

Franny shrugged “Mommy and Uncle Lip and Aunt Tami were all still talking in there when I left. Mommy told me it was a good idea for me to come out here.” 

Mickey grabbed Ian’s hand, bumping their shoulders together. “Whatcha wanna do, man? We can head back to the apartment, go to the Alibi and get tanked, I don’t care, it’s up to you.”

“Don’t know, I’m tired of running from things. And you were right Mick, it’s our fucking house. Could we just sit out here for a little while?” Mickey ran a thumb across Ian’s hand and mumbles so quietly, in that voice he only uses with Ian- “‘Course we can”

Having completed her task of delivering beers, Franny stood up and put her hands on her hips, “I’m going to go inside, I won’t let anyone be mean to you Uncle Ian.”

Ian looked up to lock eyes with his niece, “I appreciate it Fran, thanks.” 

She stood up and gave Ian a kiss on the top of his head, no doubt a gesture she’d picked up from some other family member, likely Mickey or Fiona. Ian smiled as she turned away to walk back into the kitchen.

After a few minutes Ian jerked his head towards the door, “Y’ready?” 

Mickey hummed in agreement, standing and offering back his hand to help Ian up. They walked over the threshold of the kitchen into a conversation clearly about Mickey’s exchange with Chad. The Tamiettis were all sitting down in the living room, with the Gallaghers mostly standing, leaning against the various remaining surfaces. Lip’s hands were in his hair, a plain indication of his frustration and exhaustion. Tami abruptly stopped talking, in the middle of what seemed like an impassioned rant. She seemed unsure of how to continue now that Ian and Mickey had reentered the house. Debbie, sat on the couch with Franny in her lap, was scowling, while Liam absently stared at the wall, clearly wishing he were anywhere else. Carl quickly walked into the kitchen from where he had been leaning up against the living room door frame, clapping Ian on the shoulder.

“Hey, why don’t you guys go take a walk or something for a sec- I think Lip and Tami have it handled.”

Lip spoke up from the living room, “Yeah, it’s okay.”

Mickey tensed, bracing himself. “No, it’s not fucking okay Phillip-“

Lip grumbled something about that not being what he meant, shaking his head, while Ian quietly interrupted his husband, forcing him to make eye contact. 

“No, it’s not, but I don’t want to just keep going over it, Mick. I’m not in the mood to educate him. I’m not saying it’s okay, but I want to move on. Lip can handle it.”

Carl nodded and repeated himself, “Go take a walk, come back in ten. Lip and Tami got it.” 

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a joint and pressing it into Ian’s palm with a smirk. 

“Rolled this for later, you guys take it.”

Ian raised an eyebrow at Mickey, who let out a sigh with a slouch, “Fine. Be back in ten.”

-

The two of them return to the backyard, Tami’s yelling resumed, her voice carrying all the way outside. 

 “M’sorry, I know I keep talkin’ when you just want it to be over with,” Mickey mumbled, looking down at the dead grass in the vacant lot beside the house.

 Ian grabbed him by the back of his neck, fingers brushing through Mickey’s short hair, “Hey, no. I… I appreciate you sticking up for me- seriously. I’m just tired… tonight’s not supposed to be about me y’know? It’s supposed to be about Lip and Tami, and Fred, not me. I just wanted to be Lip’s brother tonight, not the crazy brother, the sick brother. I just don’t wanna be the one that causes the issues anymore.” 

“You didn’t cause this Ian. You being bipolar didn’t fucking cause this- that asshole, opening his mouth and not knowing when to shut it- that’s what caused it. I get that you just wanna let it go, and I will, but if he say’s something else-“

“If he says something else you can beat the shit out of him.”

Mickey grinned, looking up to meet Ian’s gaze. “Fucking fantastic. You wanna smoke this bitch?” 

He grabbed the joint out of Ian’s hand and pulled a lighter from his flannel’s front pocket.

Ian finally cracked a smile, one that actually reaches his eyes, “Free weed? Fuck yeah.”

Mickey tossed the lighter to Ian, who caught it and lit the joint with a practiced flick. He took a couple hits and closed his eyes, smiling again as he exhaled the smoke. He handed the lit joint over to Mickey, along with his lighter and jerked his head in the direction of the van in the backyard, “Wanna go sit?” 

Mickey nodded and breathed in a sharp inhale, heading in the direction of the passenger seat door. 

Ian climbed up into the drivers seat, letting out a deep sigh, “Feel like I’m in high school again- sneaking around with you, trying to find somewhere to be alone.” Mickey chuckled and passed the joint back over.

 They smoked in silence for a while, Ian nudging Mickey with his elbow as the ember approaches the filter, “You want the last hit?” 

“Nah man, that’s yours,” Mickey shakes his head.

Ian took it, stubbing out the butt on the van’s dashboard and tossing it onto the floor. 

“Still wanna kick his ass?” He asked, lazily turning his head towards Mickey with a grin.

Mickey rolled his eyes, “I think I can contain myself.”

“Yeah?” Ian breathed, inching his face closer to his husband’s. The moon, freshly risen, highlighted Ian’s face, illuminating the dash of freckles across his nose.

Mickey didn’t answer, opting to close the distance between them, pressing a soft kiss to Ian’s lips. Ian’s hand came up to cradle Mickey’s face, thumb gently brushing his cheek.

And if they didn’t make it back inside for a while, so be it. 

#this makes me a little nervous ngl #its fine #im fine #my writing #my fic #shameless fic #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich #gallavich fanfic #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #lip gallagher #fiona gallagher #franny gallagher #carl gallagher #debbie gallagher #liam gallagher #tami tamietti #fred gallagher

[wonda-cat]

Some Thoughts on Tommy’s most recent stream (4/29)

(For the record, this isn’t going to be like my other formal analyses. I’m genuinely just ranting here, possibly unedited too. I’m only referring to the characters, unless stated otherwise.

Also obvious warning, this will be fairly negative/critical of the DSMP’s writing, so scroll past if that might bother you. I tend to criticize the media I love, so this is just par for the course in my case.)

Let’s start off with—

The Things I Liked

All of the comedy at the beginning of the stream was wonderful. Ghostbur was incredibly endearing and entertaining as usual, as well as the moments between bench trio. Tommy’s change of plans made sense and the entire journey through the prison was tense and fun to watch. As well as the moment Tommy got caught (it was inevitable.) 

It goes without stating, but cc!Wilbur and cc!Tommy’s acting was wonderful—they knocked it out of the park. I liked the little moments of Tommy calming Ghostbur down as Sam screamed at him. I also loved Wilbur's speech about his time in the afterlife when bench trio found him. 

As well as the moment with Wilbur admiring the sky and calling it ‘his sunrise.’ I’m also glad that the afterlife was explained to be caused by the Revival Book’s existence and not some general eternal torture every character will be sentenced to regardless of anything they did in life. 

But, sadly, that’s about where I stop and have to go into what I didn’t like as much, which is—

Everything Else

I’ll be talking about my major gripes with this particular stream in later bullet points down the line, but for now I’ll bring up the little things that annoyed me. This is all basically nit-picking and isn’t as awful or badly written as some of the others I’ll be discussing later. 

First off, Why is Ranboo There? In the stream before this one, Tommy had Tubbo promise to not tell anyone else about their plan. Did he just decide to tell Ranboo anyway? Why? What was the point of asking him to keep it secret if it didn’t matter? 

Adding to this, Tubbo and Ranboo were rather unnecessary for any of the other scenes that took place. They didn’t have any meaningful conversations with Tommy besides Ranboo asking why he was dreading Wilbur’s revival so much, as well as Wilbur’s comments to Tubbo about him being president. But other than that they have little to no notable speaking lines. 

They don’t Do Anything? Sure, they’re nice to have present so Tommy can vent to someone else and find comfort but, in the end, Ranboo was oddly angry and accusatory with Tommy and Tubbo was practically absent from the scene. The impression I got from Tommy and Tubbo’s conversation in the previous stream implied that Tubbo would be serving a larger role as a distraction, but I guess they changed gears or something? 

Then we have Ghostbur’s involvement, which, yeah, makes sense. Tommy, Tubbo, and Ranboo are not allowed inside the prison, so it’s best to find someone else who can get in without suspicion. But my first assumption, upon seeing Ghostbur with the group was, “Oh, he’s gonna go in there and Dream’s gonna use him to revive Wilbur. That’s the only reason why Ghostbur is here and not anyone else, who would also be willing to kill Dream. It’s not like they’re in short supply right now.”

And I ended up being right, which only frustrated me more. I wanted something unexpected. Something new. Something interesting. Yet, I got the most predictable outcome instead—Tommy fails, Wilbur is revived. 

Next, we have another big serving of ‘Tommy gets blamed for things he has no control over’ part 241. I am so, so sick of characters getting unreasonably mad at and blaming Tommy for anything and everything. It’s not new, it’s not interesting, it’s not fun. It’s just miserable. 

It is,, awful. And it’s highkey frustrating. I refuse to sit through another arc of Tommy being endlessly hurt and blamed for stuff he didn’t do or cannot control. Pick a new event in the plot. 

Try something out of left field. Do something, anything different to this. I’m begging you. 

Now, we get into the major writing pitfalls and shortcomings. Starting with—

We Need to Talk About Sam

I have no idea what is going on with Sam’s character right now. It is so genuinely confusing. I have no clue why Sam reacted the way he did to Tommy because it just doesn’t make any sense. Sam’s entire inner conflict is about him trying to cultivate and protect his humanity and morality while upkeeping a strict, closed-off demeanor.

He follows the rules, even if it hurts the people he loves. Even if these codes force him into a position to be unethical. He feels it is his responsibility should anything go wrong or if Dream escapes, because it puts others in danger.

His strict approach got Tommy killed, and it also took a life and an arm from Ponk. Both of these people are precious to him. So why on earth would he threaten to kill Tommy when, in their last interaction, he was glad he was alive—after he promised to never let something like that happen again?

He respected Tommy’s wishes to stay away from him, and rather politely too. Why would he then threaten to kill him just after weeks of saying Tommy’s death was his biggest regret? That’s not even touching on Sam saying, “This is why I let you die,” as well as blaming Tommy for something that was directly a result of his own refusal to act.

Why didn’t he have Ghostbur also hitch a ride on the same platform with Tommy? Why did he even let Ghostbur into the prison in the first place if he:

A.) Told Ranboo he wasn’t going to let anyone in there after what happened to Tommy.

B.) Also wouldn’t let people in lest they find out about Quackity’s plan.

C.) Couldn’t even kill Ghostbur because he’s incorporeal and thus cannot fully upkeep the contracts he is signing.

There’s also the issue of Sam breaking the rules he abides by when he decided to not kill Tommy after he snuck into the prison, despite it being in the contract. Why is it different now? He went against his own protocol but was also following it by refusing to let Ghostbur come back to the other platform?

Why does Sam refuse to listen to Tommy? Their argument is mind-numbingly ridiculous. Sam refuses to hurt Dream, despite him only being alive because Sam claimed Tommy wanted him alive.

But now Tommy is there, begging Sam to let him kill Dream, and Sam just goes, “No. We’re not killing Dream.” Fucking why??? Sam! You said you wanted to kill Dream at least four times by now! Maybe more!

You were on your way to do it with Quackity and the only thing that stopped you was your promise to Tommy. But now Tommy’s here, telling you to kill Dream and you fucking won’t???? I am absolutely baffled.

No matter how you spin it, it makes no fucking sense. However, if I tried,,, I could possibly come up with a reason or two. Maybe Dream is blackmailing him. Maybe Quackity is forcing him to keep Dream alive until he can get the info he needs (even though,,, why would he trust Quackity over Tommy, who he’s outwardly stated he trusts just as much, if not more?)

It feels like these plots are dancing around each other, trying to keep up this faux sense of conflict that doesn’t exist. But, here’s the thing, contrived conflict is never compelling. I can’t overstate it enough.

Dream’s Plan is Complete Nonsense

The method to revive Wilbur makes Dream seem even more short-sighted than I remember commenting on, during the stream where Tommy was brought back to life. He told Tommy that his plan was to test the book to see if it worked (which, okay fine, I can buy this.) But then he says all along he was planning to revive Wilbur in order to break out of prison, which is ???? This is baffling if he needed Ghostbur in order to pull this off. 

Which,,, I can’t even begin to explain how ridiculous it is that Dream’s entire plan hitched on not only the book working on people to begin with (which he tested on Tommy,,, for some reason, even though he would’ve lost his ‘favorite toy’ if he fucked it up. Which,, why even take that chance in the first place? there are other visitors he could’ve tried this with, surely. Like Sapnap and Bad,,) and it also relied on Ghostbur voluntarily going into the prison just to visit Dream?? And if he didn’t need Ghostbur after all, then why didn’t he bring Wilbur back weeks ago? 

That’s not even getting into the issue of Dream assuming that Wilbur, once brought back, would: 

A.) Want to be alive in the first place.

B.) Actually be willing to help Dream, instead of telling him to fuck off.

C.) Be even slightly capable of helping him at all when he has no allies, no PVP skill, no weapons, no armor, and no knowledge of the prison or its innerworkings. 

Why are the current DSMP writers so committed to making me think Dream is a fucking idiot? I don’t enjoy this. I used to like his character and think he was smart. Stop. 

ALSO, why did Tommy or Tubbo or Ranboo not think of the possibility that Ghostbur could very well be necessary to revive Wilbur? Why did that not cross any of their minds? It was the first thing I thought of when I saw him.

Another big thing that irks me is Tommy and Sam saying they saw Dream physically holding the Revival Book, which,,, how? Why? Dream said in previous streams that he burned the book and that was entirely the thing that kept him from being killed outright. If there was a book still in existence, did he hide it somehow? 

How did Quackity not find it? Why did Sam not take it from him when he was first arrested?? What? 

Also how the fuck did Dream kill a ghost?? They’re incorporeal? How does he not need the body to perform necromancy? That seems almost redundant. 

Also it took a matter of seconds to perform? It took,,, ?? nothing but words and sheer willpower to bring someone back to life? Why does it seem so easy? My mans just,, uses his vibes to bring people back from the dead??? 

Unless the book has instructions regarding that or has a proportional price in order to use, then I’d be more forgiving. But I’m guessing it doesn’t have too steep a cost if Dream could offer Tommy immortality despite that. But I’m sure we’ll get more information on this once Quackity (inevitably) gets his hands on the book. Hopefully… 

Which brings me to my last point—

Wilbur’s Revival (Derogatory)

Since the Revival Book was introduced, I have been actively dreading Wilbur being revived. It is the most predictable, low-hanging fruit of a plotline I could possibly conceive of. I understand that he’s a fan-favorite with a large audience (I love Wilbur more than you’d expect. cc!Wilbur is actually the reason I got into the DSMP in the first place), but there are other characters who could be developed more—utilized more. 

Unpopular opinion, I know, but I am just so incredibly unenthused about this plot development. In fact, I’d almost go so far as to say hate it. 

The Revival Book in and of itself is my least favorite thing the DSMP has ever introduced. It is a lack of consequences simplified. It’s also a lack of commitment to those mortal consequences. 

It is a ‘get out of jail free’ card for when they kill off a character and don’t want to deal with the hole that character will leave behind. Or a way to work around the reason they shouldn’t kill Dream on the spot. 

With Wilbur back again, I no longer feel compelled by his arc the way I used to. There is nothing to really leave a lasting impact anymore. Of course, there was a cater where L’Manburg once stood, but that was dug even deeper later on. You can’t make the death of a friend, of a loved one, worse than it is. It is death. 

The thing I found extremely interesting about Wilbur’s death is the way the other characters portrayed loss. It has consistently been the thing that was most comforting to me, oddly enough. When people die, there will always be loose ends. 

There will be holes left behind and things left unsaid. An unfulfilled promise. A forgotten relationship. A hollow memory.

What I always found compelling was the way Tommy and Fundy and Niki took this mutual loss and had to live with it. How they had to come to terms with the fact that Wilbur was gone and he wasn’t coming back. That they had to make peace with his memory, his legacy, and their connection to him. 

That they’d miss him and love him or hate him and try to forget him. It is a tragedy that someone like Wilbur wanted to die for so long, and in the end, he did. Because in reality, the people you love will die. 

There may be someone in your life that leaves you behind and all you’re left with is the broken pieces. And it is how these characters move on that brings me bittersweet company as someone who’s lost a lot of people. There is nothing more irritating than a story going back on its establishments—to have their cake and eat it too. 

All I want is the bare minimum—a story with narrative stakes and consequences.

The only way I could ever see myself enjoying this plot development is if Wilbur has a redemption arc and attempts to make amends with Tommy, Fundy, Niki, and Eret. OR if he aids in Dream’s downfall in some way and enjoys the simple realities of life and wants to live for the sake of living. I’d find that at least new and somewhat interesting. 

But if he’s just here to be a moustache toiling villain (or somehow worse than after his previous downward spiral), when the market is already so deeply oversaturated with antagonists, then I will probably drop the series altogether. 

Hopefully it doesn’t come to that because I love the Dream SMP and I want to keep loving it for as long as I can. 

I will hold onto more reasons to stay, so long as they keep giving them to me.

#dream smp #dsmp #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #awesamdude #dreamwastaken #c!wilbur #c!tommy #c!sam #c!dream #ghostbur #c!sam critical #dsmp critical #dream smp critical #negative #long post #dsmp rant #this is so long #also I promise most of this is /lh #if I was ever actually frustrated with the DSMP #I wouldn't make an essay about it lol #tw suicide #tw death mention

[teatitty]

*rolls up sleeves* As you wish! This is a long one though, so buckle up! ☆

So, in Lostbelt 6 we finally got Beryl's backstory. And it was every bit as awful as a lot of people had been surmising, if not worse. He did horrible things to Mash, and the worst part of all is it was justified in his mind through his "love" for her. But the crowning jewel of it all was it being confirmed that when Roman booted Beryl from Mash's room during the infamous "sneaking in incident" itself, he didn't do it kindly. It was also implied pretty strongly that not only was he not calm about throwing Beryl out, but that it was a miracle that Beryl walked away from the experience at all. This fits nicely with the "Romani is super protective of the people he cares about, almost to a fault, and can be absolutely vicious about it if pushed hard enough" vibe, which is cool. Very validating to see the doc getting to be more three-dimensional as a character. But we also know Roman is suuuper hard on himself, and tends to earnestly gather the opinions of others to assess who he is as a person. So I'd imagine he'd be a little out of sorts following such a huge event, especially since there's part of him that knows if he still had his clairvoyance, he could have prevented the entire thing from happening at all. But he's still a bit green as a normal human, and so not very good at hiding his emotions, and the turbulence he's feeling towards Beryl and himself and everything else is written aaalll over his face. And between the blaze in his eyes and the rumors spreading around Chaldea like wildfire, a lot of people start to... steer clear of him. Cautionary whispers start to circulate that it's best not to anger the Director's favorite doctor, that he's secretly a loose canon just waiting to unload on the next unfortunate soul to give him a chance. No one could be that sincere anyway, they reason, so it makes sense that Roman's bubbly facade was hiding something nasty beneath it. And Roman's seen this behavior before. The whispering, the distance, all of it. Being the King of Mages illicited similar reactions, after all, and he was no stranger to being, well, a stranger. So he settles in to the notion of a second life of isolation, and draws back from the people around him. It was only a matter of time before the jig was up anyway.

At least, that's what he was thinking before he was startled halfway back to the Throne by the resounding clink of a coffee cup being set down beside him. The clang was loud enough that the whole cafeteria came to a halt, the spotlight suddenly placed securely on the secluded little corner Romani had been brooding in, and truthfully he was half-afraid to look for fear that the empty cup of his own he'd been ignoring had shattered on its own. That was honestly the last thing he needed right now, more evidence that he was frothing at the mouth, right? But then a laugh like bells reached his ears, and he turned to see Leo standing there with the warmest, softest look he'd ever seen her wear. She looked angelic, absolutely ethereal, and the slight crease at her eyes seemed to say "it's all going to be okay now." Naturally, he blinked and it was gone, and with perfect timing Leonardo had slid into one of the seats opposed to him with a flourish, loudly proclaiming to the shock of the onlookers that it was near criminal to mope in the presence of a genius, especially one who'd brought coffee to share. Beside himself, Romani could only gawk, blinking owlishly at the Heroic Spirit who, up until this point, seemed to only regard him with frustration and mild annoyance at best. But if Da Vinci recollected such experiences, she didn't show it, her gaze instead regarding him as if they were the oldest of friends before sweeping around challengingly across her audience, daring them to speak against her judgement. And though it was a bit awkward at first, it was... nice to have someone to talk to, Roman thought. (Even someone who liked coffee with not nearly enough sugar in it).

Of course, that was hardly the end of it. And when the rumors spread to Leo, hissed in secret by concerned staff, suddenly people find that green wasn't quite so scary a color as blue. She listens to the stir with a smile sharp as the talons drumming idly on the table in front of her, and the look in her dazzling doe eyes threatens them to give her every last detail they know. The picture of poise, her champagne tone is so thick with murder you could paint with it, and yet crafted so artfully it leaves the gossipers wondering if they've hallucinated the malicious aura around them or not. But a genius knows the value of patience when weaving a trap, and so she waits, and she waits, and she waits. She provides polite insight, little nods that she was paying attention, and little else, little more. Just a friendly conversation.... until the gossipers have so thoroughly locked themselves in with lies it's almost too easy to obliterate them in their tracks.

You see, what nobody knew was that Leo was there when Roman through Beryl out, her instincts as a high ranking Heroic Spirit tipping her off to the sudden tidal wave of of mana coming from Mash's quarters in the medbay. She saw it all, from start to bloody finish, her presence missed among the commotion, and where others had found something to fear, Leo had felt the stir of an emotion far more ginger. How many times in her natural life had she wished for someone to protect her from the evils of the world like that? How many times had she wished in her cell for someone to sweep in and decimate the people who'd wronged her like that? Broader still, how many times had she borne witness to someone shaking their head sadly, or lamenting because yet another little girl had fallen prey to a predator who wielded too much power to ever be stopped? And yet here was this strange little pushover of a man, completely obliterating one of the Director's prized A-Team members to protect a little girl many had considered a pet project at most. She couldn't be sure about a lot of what she saw— mainly the mana where there should be none, or the strange, golden glint to Roman's eyes. But she knew she had witnessed something done in pure altruism, and that there was one less innocent who went undefended because of it. Leo was also quite used to being ostracized to various degrees herself, not that she took it personally of course! (aha...) Being such an eccentric, beautiful, charismatic, talented genius was a tough existence, after all! Not many could keep up with her, and insecure people get so mean sometimes. (Not to mention that it was even tougher when she was still back in Italy, and often twice as lonely.) So, seeing as she is also so very compassionate and wise, she simply could not allow the same fate to happen to Roman! Especially not over something like this! It was only right to rescue him from infinite exile. Anyone with a conscience would have done the same!

(But oh, if only she'd known how he'd rescue her too, and how preciously love could bloom, even in the arctic, even at the end of the world.)

GRIPS YOU TIGHTLY

ANON WE ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH WITH THESE TWO, YOU UNDERSTAND WHY ME AND LYRE WERE ROMAVINCI STANS THE FIRST TIME WE SAW THEM TOGETHER, THEY ARE M A R R I E D BUT EVEN OUTSIDE OF THAT YES YES YES TO ALL OF THIS BEAUTIFUL META ON THEIR CHARACTERS AND HOW THEY INTERACT WITH PEOPLE AND ALSO FUCK BERYL LIVES ACTUALLY LMAOOO

#fgo spoilers #long post #romavinci nerd #romavinci #added the tag u suggested too since u wanted it uwu #amen to asks having longer word limits now btw #I wish i had better words to share #but i am instead flailing and squealing with delight #Anonymous #asks

[snowydaffodils]

Flustered

3501 words | 2nd Person POV

A Yoon Jeonghan fluff, prompt, how you met, how you (hinted) eventually dated, where you're an actress and he's the other lead actor. Enjoy your new years! 🎉

---

Yoon Jeonghan is very rarely flustered. If anything, he's usually the cause of all the flustering - twelve boys can back you up on that. He'd make fun of your height, poke your cheeks, comment cutesy compliments as you work together, flirt playfully, and make fun of how stupid your character sounds.

Indeed, you accepted this role fully aware of the awfully pure and slow-witted character the scriptwriter had written down. Throughout your years in acting, even if this was your very first lead role, you had never gone easy on the rest of the roles you had received. You live and understand them, think like them, and every single character you've performed have now become a part of you. But of course, the closest character to you now is this easily distracted girl who just blushes all the time.

So for the course of eight months, you've acted with all your might, and this is the you that Jeonghan knew. You weren't exactly innocent and slow-witted just like the character, but a bit of the character influenced your own personal traits. The fun to tease, cute, and adorably likable girl. Just like you, it was his first lead role in a drama, and the first one in Seventeen to land on one, too, even if he wasn't the first one to be in one. He had curiously accepted a side role before, right after his military release, and just as the group were exploring their own careers whilst waiting to reunite again as a whole. That side role, with the help of his previous acting lessons, drowned him into the world of acting once more, and he fell in love with the art of the screen more than he ever did before.

Your first impression on him during the first cast meeting was that he looked heavenly. It was like his cheekbones were sculpted to perfection and no one could tell you otherwise. You were incredibly starstruck and in awe that you stuttered in making your first introductions. It didn't help that he was smooth with his words, too, making you sound incredibly nervous as opposed to him.

"Hi, I'm Jeonghan from Seventeen, and I'll be taking the lead role in this drama. Please take care of me."

"Hi, I'm play, uh, playing the lead gull, I mean g-girl."

Had he smiled politely and continued the conversation like nothing had happened, maybe you wouldn't have been too embarrassed, but also maybe you wouldn't have let your guards down to know and befriend him personally. Instead, he had laughed at you with all the stomach power he had. He never lets you forget that you stuttered so badly as you introduced yourself for the first time the entire day. He even made his own reasons (you wouldn't admit them, but they couldn't have been more true) as to why you stuttered.

"Nervous? I'm super charming, aren't I?" his ego is surely out of bounds as he said that, a smirk donning his lips. "I know, I'm surprised at myself, too sometimes."

You hit him on the arm, your cheeks growing in color. "I'm a big fan of Seventeen, but I didn't realize that you're this cheeky."

He laughed, so genuinely and purely, and you smiled, already warmed up to him. He made friends with you quickly, and from all the behind the scenes footage, he was quick to melt his awkward-i-just-met-you exterior and interacted with you as he would with his members. Jeonghan was this tall, built, and handsome man, and he owned unreal facial features that made everyone wonder if he was indeed human just like everyone else. He was perfect for his role: the cold, sly, and dominating lead in the series. It was the complete opposite of your character, and with his friendliness, it was easy for you to quickly build up chemistry and work well with him, but as you two get closer, the more playful he became.

"You're the love of my life," he recited his lines, cheesy as it is, to which you became shy to and shrank as he got closer and closed his lips to yours.

He was quick to tease your blushes after the director's "Cut!" in each kissing scene, and would tease you easily at other romantic or heart fluttering scenes you had to do.

"Aww, that's cute, you're blushing again! I can hear your heart fluttering," he would say. "Then again, I am charming."

And in each time, you were always caught in his trap, stuck in the moment, and your heart follows his lead, ignoring all the other self-restraining signals your head was screaming about. He'd laugh right after he got a reaction out of you, and the grin he'd give you would linger in your head for the rest of the day.

There was another day when one of his members - Joshua - came to support as a cameo, and it felt like Jeonghan was on booster or something. He introduced you to Joshua, who was sweet, polite, and a perfect gentleman, but then Jeonghan continued to tease you the entire day Joshua was there. He made sure to remind Joshua how cute you were so many times throughout the day. At that point you were actually getting used to Jeonghan's antics, but him teasing you in front of a new person puts you on another level of flustered.

"Hey Josh, meet the love of my life," Jeonghan said, using his scripted lines.

Joshua, while he was nicer than Jeonghan, still played along sometimes. "Then I'll call you member-in-law!" He said.

Your birthday was on a filming day, and he managed to fool you to think that you had hurt his feelings by giving him comments on his acting as per usual (you were sure you weren't saying anything bad, but he kept directing it to be a negative one). He started showing acts of distaste and, at one point, even yelled at you and left the room.

It was heart-wrenching to watch him leave - you never wanted to hurt his feelings, you just wanted to help and support him and the drama entirely. Guilt washed over you quickly, and tears piled in your eyes. The crew was looking at you so judgmentally, and all you wanted to do was go home, lock the doors, and hide under your covers. You didn't know what to do, and some of the crew even went to you to convince you that he just needed to blow off steam and he'll be back and you can apologize when he gets back.

You wanted to scream and rip his hair off when he came back with a cake, singing Happy Birthday like nothing happened. Your tears flowed like a river though, because you genuinely thought that Yoon Jeonghan, this man, was actually angry at you to the point that he put it to display to everyone who was present and even yelled at you.

"Don't cry!" he laughed at you, taking the cream from the cake and swiping your cheeks with his finger. "You'll look ugly. We have to take a picture with this cake!"

You cursed at him for the first time since you've known him, but he only chuckled and patted your back to calm down your sniffles (you glared at his finger until he wiped the cream away first, though). He gave you a friendly hug and you hit him to prove the point that you were upset, and it was a loud slap in the back that everyone was surprised but laughed at. Apparently, a behind-the-scenes camera was on and recording the entire surprise; Jeonghan remembered this and went to the camera to tell on you. He complained really loudly, "Carats, she hit me!" he pointed at you playfully.

You were still sniffling, snots everywhere and you eyes still bawling with tears. "Y-you deserve it!" you screamed.

On the last day of filming, you had laughed everything off, remembering everything that happened during the course of filming and engraving every memory to your heart. It was surely an indescribable experience. The crew had been super nice, and they felt like a second family to you. The cast members became your best friends, including the one and only Yoon Jeonghan. You thanked Jeonghan, the rest of the cast, and the entire crew for all their hard work, hugged your co-stars tightly, and told Jeonghan to stay in contact with you even after it all ended because you'd miss him.

"Hey, but don't be a stranger," you told him. "I think I'm too used to having you around, its gonna be hard to live peacefully, now."

He smiled, pinched your cheeks and said, "Did you think I'm gonna stop just because the drama ended? You should've seen me annoy my members even from the military base."

You rolled your eyes at him, "I wouldn't dare to assume you'd do anything less."

And he kept to his word. Though there hadn't been any opportunities for both of you to meet each other again (variety shows and interview promotions were done during the course of filming), he still contacts you day-to-day, even if only to send a meme he found of you and laugh at you through text.

"You really DO look like you've got a frog in your mouth! Hahahaha!"

This went on through the rest of the year until the Award Shows started to busy every single celebrity available, finally announcing the invites, MCs, performances, and nominees to each award they have. Your drama with Jeonghan had hit it big as fans were so happy to watch both of you interact (also, maybe because Woozi sang the main OST, and Scoups' rap on the OST was fire), and you were invited to almost every single one of them as a nominee for multiple awards.

It was first assumed, then implied, but it was also because he was actually sweet enough to ask you personally, that you were officially his date to every one of the award shows your drama was nominated in. You agreed, not because he was your co-star, but because he was a genuinely nice and fun person to spend time with. You were also very excited, not just because you were nominated, but also because this time you were going to finally present your original and true self to Yoon Jeonghan and the world. The other characters within you screamed in delight as you excitement rose, and you had planned everything out, determined to show that you are not just a simple easily teased girl that Yoon Jeonghan bullies on.

On the very first show you wore a white gown - the top part was gold glitter with a heart neckline, and it corseted your figure, highlighting all the important curves in your body. Down your dress, the fabric flowed in an A-line skirt, transparency growing in a gradient as it reached the bottom, your strapped golden heels visible within your skirt. You put your half your hair into a braid and curled the rest. With curtain-like gold earrings and white diamonds shining out of the strands, Jeonghan was stunned when he saw you for the first time. Your make up was different from what he was used to, and a mature-like pureness aura radiates from you. He didn't know what to say, muted to say the least. He had never seen you like that, and once both of you reached the red carpet, his hand on your back as a gentlemanly support to guide you through the reporters, he noticed how straight you walked, and how you carried yourself so gracefully. The reporters were asking questions, but he left the answering to you as he continued to stay stunned through the red carpet. It was only when you both had finally taken your seats when he finally relaxed and converse normally again.

The minimum movements you emitted, just enough to be polite and to please your audience were not missed by the man, and he observed the details of your interactions to the utmost adoration. Your gracefulness had struck a chord in his heart and he was awed to say the least.

He ended the night with a shy smile and an "Oh, and by the way, you were absolutely beautiful tonight." The sincerity of his tone didn't go unnoticed and you didn't forget to thank him before going separate ways. It was oddly out of character of him to do, but you liked the new side of him you have yet to explore.

The next show, you opted for a bright red designer's gown. This one, fitting to its price tag, created this absolutely stunning silhouette, and while it did not sparkle or glitter, its muted red still create a distinction of you and made you shine. The designed folds in your dress accented your figure even more, and with a looser fabric, the skirt of your dress was made longer so it could trail behind you as you walk. Your hair was gathered up into one straight ponytail, a pretty simple hairdo to gather attention to your striking gown for the night.

Jeonghan didn't recognize you when he first was led to your changing room. You didn't just look like a different person, you feel like one, too. He didn't even realize that he held his breath as he looked at you. The stylist were so proud of their efforts and Jeonghan's reaction had them giggling and teasing him. "She's incredibly beautiful, isn't she?"

He barely managed a "yes" before you could chuckle and said to him, "Well look who's being shy, now."

At this, he returned a laughter of his own. He didn't bother hiding his surprised expression. "You got me. You look incredible."

Your outfit and style of the day, added with your elegance and poise as you conducted yourself in front of the reporters and other celebrities had Jeonghan staring at you for a while, and quite numerous whiles. He absolutely adored you. There was a surging feeling of wholesome pride as he stood beside you, his hand on your back as he escorted you through the venue. Even as he teased you as he answered the reporters' questions, you had retained your poise as you held it within yourself not to be flustered easily by this man. You had a year worth of practice for that.

"Isn't she beautiful? I'm such a fan of hers," Jeonghan whispered to the reporters, his playful grins and chuckles evident as he interacted happily. "She doesn't look like her character now, does she?"

You chuckled along with him, but dragged him to stop him from acting like a fan on the red carpet. He laughed and after a few tries of refusing your urges to move on, eventually let it go and allowed you to pull him forwards. As you moved on, he placed his hand on your back just like how he usually does, as a sign that he was right there walking with you.

The third time though, Jeonghan was speechless. He barely spoke through the course of the night, and his eyes never left you.

You wore a black designer's gown this time, with sequinned patterned Qs coming from your neck down to your knees before the skirt spreads out to hide your silver heels. It was a mermaid gown and it hugged your figure nicely. The skirt was actually more flowy that you thought, but it added a nice touch. You wore silver earrings and diamond hair pieces as you put your hair up in the most elegant updo Jeonghan had ever seen. He was already stunned when he saw you for the first time, but he almost choked when you turned around only for him to realize that your gown was completely backless.

Now, where is he supposed to place his hand again?

His face was flushed and when you turned to finally go out the door, you see his face filled with more red than you've ever seen. While his face was kind of salvaged by the foundation he used, the makeup couldn't help his neck from turning red as well.

"Yoon Jeonghan, are you sick?" you asked aloud, gaining the attention of all staff members present, all their eyes pointed at the man in question. "Or are you actually blushing?"

Your second question snapped him out of his haze (and had many of the stylists and make up artists giggling) as he looked at you for a few seconds, and you were starting to actually worry, before he eventually puts his hand on his forehead, covering his face.

"God, you'll be the death of me. Let's go before I embarrass myself any further."

He was indeed blushing, and his statement confirmed that for you. You laughed, but you can't help but feel you cheeks tinting a little pink from his confession. He linked your arm with his and went out together.

The first few minutes into the red carpet, Jeonghan did his best not to have direct contact with your back. He was blushing the entire time, had to ask the interviewers to repeat themselves a couple of times, and his hand was going to unsure places like your shoulder or your waist, which he was also not confident about, and eventually just lingers a few inches away from your back, like in mid-air. The so-called manner hands.

It wasn't as reassuring as having his hand on your back like the previous times you both had gone through this. His focus was also off as he tried to avoid the contact, and just moved his hand when you moved as well. You sighed and just pulled his hand to slightly slap your back, and you pointed a look at Jeonghan's direction, telling him to stop fidgeting through your eyes.

He blushed.

"Jeonghan, are you not feeling well?" one of the reporters asked.

He seemed to click then and there. His honest self couldn't help himself as he answered, "Oh yeah, she just looks gorgeous tonight, I can't take my eyes off of her."

When he finally comprehended his own words, he fumbled and stuttered. "I-I mean," he tried to reason, but the stars in the reporters' eyes were showing that they heard everything he said, and some of them squealed in delight.

"Why, thank you," you turned to face him, your smile directed for him.

He was stunned - again.

"Oh, let's just go," he said shyly, one of his hands reaching to his neck to feel just how warm he had gotten.

That night, both of you had received a daesang award, but Jeonghan kind of added a few more elements to his acceptance speech.

"Hi, this is Seventeen's Jeonghan. This acting experience was truly incredible and there's so many people who should know that they are the reason for this award. I want to thank Carats, who have always been there for me through thick and thin, and my members who have been watching and supporting me, especially to Joshua who became a cameo, my parents and my family members who had been with me from the very start, the staff members, Pledis, directors, pd-nim, and all the crew members. This is not possible without any of you. And special thanks to," Jeonghan moved his eyes on you, and he didn't know why then and there, your name disappeared from his head and instead replaced with that one line that had caught all the viewers' heart as they watched the drama.

"The love of my life - " he stopped when he realized what he just said, and realized he had kind of just confessed on national TV. "I mean, M-my co-star."

You stood there surprised at how flustered Yoon Jeonghan could be, and stunned that you were the main reason that he was fumbling on the stage and his ears redder than ever. He caught himself before he did anything else and finished his speech nicely.

"Anyways, uh, thank you for this award, I'll work even harder to be a better actor and come back with more for you all. Thankyou!"

It was your turn after him to deliver your speech, and suddenly the trophy on your hands became heavier than it actually was. Jeonghan turned his back to walk back to the spot beside you as you move forward, and you can see a small smile tugging the corners of his lips. When you were brushing against each other before you took the mic, he whispered, just loud for you to hear, and short enough to go unnoticed.

"Yes, that was my confession to you. Will you go out with me?"

All eyes were on you and all lights were on you when you felt like you bit your tongue and couldn't speak.

The MCs were waiting for your speech, and nudged you to start when you seem lost.

"Ah, yes, I mean, no, I mean yes!"

Yoon Jeonghan really knows how to fluster you, even in his most flustering moments.

---

#yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan fic #seventeen imagines #fanfiction #fluff #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan scenario #seventeen #svt #seventeen fic

[tossawary]

Some random favorite lines (with commentary) of Chapter 23: “Swallowing Your Heart” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” because I’m doing a re-read. Not a full list or full commentary.

-

Liu Qingge shoves him off his sword.

Plot twist! Betrayal! Shang Qinghua doesn’t have time to get over his shock at such an attack before Liu Qingge has caught the riderless sword in one hand and caught the swordless rider over his shoulder.

The Bai Zhan Peak War God flies on to Qian Cao Peak with his new cargo.

Shang Qinghua slaps the man on the back and wheezes.

“Have you done that move before?!” he demands, because that was so fucking smooth it’s offensive. It really does offend him! He’s super offended right now!

“Mingyan,” Liu Qingge says, like this explains everything. “And Fanli.”

It kind of does explain everything.

- 

AN: That LQG effortlessly manhandled SQH in the same way that he manhandles his sister. This is how LQG shows affection. LMY is not a fan of it either. 

-

“Ming Fan is a good sparring partner,” Binghe says as part of his tirade, like he’s confessing something. “But he needs sooooo many compliments to soothe his pride. ‘Oh, I knocked Shixiong over because he’s such a good teacher! Thank you, Shixiong, for helping me practice this move. Shixiong, I really admire how you don’t let the little things bother you because you’re so confident and skilled.’ I think he’s getting better now, but it’s still tiring sometimes. Uncle, some people really can’t take even a well-meaning criticism without falling apart.”

- 

AN: This conversation was definitely a jab at Shang Qinghua relationship with Mobei-Jun, but it also extends to Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu. 

- 

Binghe says that he also heard some Qiong Ding Peak people are here now, but he doesn’t know what they’re doing. Beyond that, not that much has apparently happened while Shang Qinghua was sleeping the day away! Liu Qingge came by, probably to report to his scheming wife, who was yet again totally and embarrassingly correct about Shang Qinghua’s state of being. Chen Xuan, whom Binghe embarrassingly correctly identified as Disciple Dumpling Thief’s Friend, dropped by, but only to say not to worry about the day-in-day-out of An Ding Peak.

- 

AN: Binghe knows Shang Qinghua’s nicknames for his favorite disciples. 

- 

Binghe curls up with his arms around and his head resting on Shang Qinghua’s stomach, while Shang Qinghua rubs his protagonist son’s back.

- 

AN: Either of these characters getting unconditional platonic affection is SO UNUSUAL that it hurts. People need hugs at all ages! 

- 

The kindest option here might be the demon lord coming back sometime in the next few days and pretending the entire interaction never happened. Shang Qinghua will tell the man that it was a human thing, some kind of nervous fit, and beg forgiveness for his lapse in presentation! Well, he probably should, except… he doesn’t really want to do that. He doesn’t really want to go, “My king, my apologies for the mess! Let me, ah, let me just swallow all of those words I threw out there, just chew them back up, gulp them down into some vital organ to rot there forever, so we can never talk about them ever again.”

Mobei-Jun seems to still be his Mobei-Jun, looking at that confrontation in hindsight, and not… not any other Mobei-Jun. People in general seem to have stayed the same, besides Peerless Cucumber being fitted into the picture as some mysterious intruder. All those years of service and loyalty and companionship Shang Qinghua remembers with Mobei-Jun haven’t vanished on him. “All current achievements have been preserved” and all that!

So, part of him wants to go, “So! Those things I said! What about them, huh? Do you have anything to say to any of that, my king? Anything at all?” 

- 

AN: Shang Qinghua wants to OPEN UP and he can’t make himself take that step when his nephew’s life is on the line. MBJ has not made himself explicitly safe yet. Unspoken understandings can only go so far here. 

- 

“Was it something really bad?” Luo Fanli presses, leaning back along his desk until she’s practically lying down on it.

Not in a sexy pose or anything, just in a put-upon flop, kind of like a tired child finding the oasis of a department store furniture display during a too-long shopping trip or a toddler denied candy pouting on the floor of the grocery store. His little sister-in-law is not greatly concerned with dignity, much to her sister’s dismay and the eternal frustration of Qi Qingqi. She says life is too short for it.

“No one died.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, it means that everyone lived through it,” Shang Qinghua explains.

-

AN: Shang Qinghua’s relationship with Luo Fanli is fun. I’m looking forward to putting Luo Fanli in a room with Shen Yuan. SY needs friends. Luo Fanli @ Shen Yuan: “Idk, he’s a weirdo, but he’s uncle-shaped, right?” 

- 

Except when Shang Qinghua opens the soup container, it’s still completely full. None of his disciples - who are very, very good at acting like they’ve never been fed ever in their life - have helped themselves to even a taste. It’s a big pot! There’s plenty to go around! More than Shang Qinghua could reasonably eat by himself! And yet…

His disciples have been way too nice to him lately. He feels like he should be checking his pockets for whatever they stole from him when he wasn’t looking. Did the System replace his bratty disciples with good alternate universe ones?! He hates it, thanks!

- 

AN: This is SUCH a low standard... and yet...! It’s very funny to me how much his disciples not stealing food from a sick man says here. 

SQH: “Why are all my disciples such sticky-fingered brats?!” 

LJH: “Because you think it’s funny.” 

SQH: “Oh, yeah.” 

- 

Wow, Peerless Cucumber doesn’t seem pleased to see him! Shang Qinghua hasn’t suffered a glare that venomous since… well, Shen Qingqiu, maybe? Okay, so maybe the switch would have worked a little bit! But Shang Qinghua is still glad it didn’t happen, even if the System fucked up the rest of reality (somehow, Shang Qinghua still hasn’t figured out how exactly) out of revenge for its own shitty choices falling through.

“Where have you been?” Peerless Cucumber demands.

“Busy?” Shang Qinghua answers, coming closer but not sitting down. “Look, the System just rewrote bits of reality on me because of your fumbled arrival tipping some invisible scales and it has not been forthcoming about the changes. I had things to check on and things have been a bit political. I sent you a message.”

“That message said a lot of nothing,” Peerless Cucumber says, but with less venom.

“Aha, yeah. Well, I’m here now.”

Peerless Cucumber looks frustrated, but finally scoots over so that Shang Qinghua can sit beside him on the bench. Shang Qinghua gingerly sits, giving the kid space.

Shang Qinghua is being super calm for the other transmigrator right now! He’s very calm here! The calmest!

- 

AN: SY really is a scared kid putting up a front. Which works out, because SQH is a dad here (and thinks SY’s insults are mostly just funny). 

- 

Out of the corner of his eye, Shang Qinghua can see a Qian Cao Peak cultivator standing impatiently by the Qiong Ding Peak guard. And… someone bouncing on their toes in a Qing Jing Peak uniform? Speak of the half-demon future tyrant of this world!

“Looks like we’ll have to continue this later,” Shang Qinghua says.

“My assisted meditation appointment,” Peerless Cucumber confirms glumly, looking as though he’s never experienced inner peace in his life and has no intention of willingly doing so. 

- 

AN: I took SY as genuinely having a knack for cultivating and that’s the interpretation I’m using for this fic, especially since I gave the Original Shen Qingqiu health problems that nearly killed him. In an earlier chapter, Mu Qingfang mentions needing to “replace Shen Qingqiu’s entire cultivation system”, which I planted for Shen Yuan getting a free, extremely stable highly developed cultivation system as part of his transmigration later. 

I mean, Shen Yuan manages to weather Liu Qingge’s qi deviation, a great deal of stress, Without-A-Cure, and etc., and he’s remarkably stable through most of it. So I’m leaning towards “a little bit of System assistance” here. The System was going to replace both Shen Qingqiu and SQQ’s unstable cultivation system out for Shen Yuan and a more stable cultivation system. 

SQQ still has a cultivation system. If he didn’t, it would have been mentioned by now. SQQ is repeatedly stated to be improving well in this chapter. I think Mu Qingfang would have noticed if SQQ didn’t have cultivation anymore. 

- 

“Then wouldn’t you be Luo-Shixiong to me?” Peerless Cucumber suggests wryly to the protagonist, who is both about five years younger than him and still shorter. (Mu Qingfang said that their guest seems to believe that he’s newly twenty. Whether or not the kid is editing his age up or down, Shang Qinghua has decided that he’s just not going to fucking think about this fact.)

“Uh,” Luo Binghe says, looking stunned and then to Shang Qinghua for help. Ha, he’s flustered, which doesn’t happen often. That’s adorable.. “...Maybe?”

Shang Qinghua snorts and remains unhelpful. Ning Yingying is actually about a year younger than Luo Binghe is, Shang Qinghua knows, but she’s been a member of the sect for significantly longer. Binghe might have some shidi and shimei soon with the next entrance test and he’s been very excited about that, but he clearly doesn’t know what to do with a “shidi” closer to his young auntie’s age than his own. Kind of weird seniors and juniors are just part of the sect experience, nephew! Get used to it!

“Thank you, regardless,” Peerless Cucumber says.

“Of course,” Binghe agrees quickly.

- 

AN: SQH is probably going to look back on this moment and go, “Hmm.” 

- 

‘You’re very resourceful,” his sister-in-law says slyly.

“I am very resourceful,” Shang Qinghua allows, and in a fit of affection reaches up to pinch Luo Jiahui’s cheek like she’s Binghe. “And I have the world’s wisest and least bossy sister-in-law, too! How fortunate I am!”

Luo Jiahui slaps his hand away with a giggle, turning slightly pink.

“At least you know it!” she says.

- 

AN: I’ve been wanting to make SQH pinch someone’s cheek for ages now. 

- 

“...You looked very scared that night,” Luo Jiahui says finally. “It might have seemed worse to you than it was. If your demon can’t be understanding of one bad night, then it’s… I don’t know if there’s a way forward with him at all.” She fixes a determined expression and says, “If any offers are retracted then we’ll manage just fine without him. We’ll tell Qingge and he’ll help. And so will Fanli. Our family won’t fall apart so easily. Hua-Ge doesn’t have to take care of everything and be everything at once to everyone.”

- 

AN: LJH channeling some “dump him! dump him! dump him!” energy. 

- 

Shang Qinghua has never been able to picture cutting ties after all this time. What would he even say? “My king, I think our arrangement has come to an end. I promised to serve you for the rest of my life, but that was when I didn’t think my life was worth very much.” He can’t see that going over well! It’s never really been an option, anyway, since Luo Binghe can’t not unlock his demonic powers and go to the Demon Realm. The System won’t have it.

- 

AN: If SQH said that to MBJ, that would be a one-hit KO, probably. 

Break the man’s heart, why don’t you?

#tossawary svsss #pride is not the word #tossawary commentary

[sometimesiwrite]

Essi Daven: Character Reference

Aside from my own Headcanons and Theories concerning Essi Daven, I wanted to compile a character reference sheet for those of you who may want to write her or think about her independently from my own creative perspectives. This is, of course, still subjective, but I’ve linked my conclusions directly back to the source text and kept strictly to canon information for this. There is still conjecture, but that is largely where the role of fanfiction steps in. I hope you enjoy. Physicality

Right away, we see Essi as a blonde-haired, fine-featured, petite young woman. Nothing remarkable or extraordinary about her appearance aside from her eyes. As we come to know her more and more, it’s her behaviour and physical mannerisms rather than her appearance that make her more alluring as a  side character. Throughout this story, we see her “smile oddly”, “snear”, and on more than one occasion, she’s seen “defiantly” tossing her head (usually accompanied by blowing her lock out of her face).

On more than one occasion, she’s seen drawing her head to her shoulders. To me, this is not shyness or desire to hide. It is a turtling at times if she’s feeling particularly vulnerable or overwhelmed, but it’s also a very casual pose. On the terrace during the banquet, Geralt finds her leaning on her elbows with her shoulders hunched up looking at the water. She’s capable of poise and all the social graces required of a banquet, but when she has time to herself, she slouches, reverts to what’s comfortable, is a dork when she’s in her own head. Yet she “daintily” steps onto the pier to join Geralt the following morning. Based on this information, I put to you that she is someone whose eccentricity cannot be fully tamed by “refinement”.

We see more evidence of this in her handling of her “birthday present”:

At first, her reaction to the stinky mollusk is, “Yuk!” and she responds in a “typically dainty” way, holding the shell at arm’s length. That is, until she's given permission to like the shell. No longer socially “required” to find the smelly slimy ocean thing disgusting, Essi lets her more relaxed side out, pulling a knife from her belt (!), and dumping the insides out the window with the practical announcement that “the cats can eat it.” Her ability to turn 180° from “Ewwww” to “Oh, here, let me just shuck this with my casual waist-knife and chuck it out the window” makes for a high likelihood that she wasn’t that grossed out to begin with, but was rather performing societal expectations. 

This brings us to: 

Personality 

We’ve already touched on this a little, but I want to focus now on Essi’s personality, which is rather complex. One of the most general details about her personality, however, is in her speaking: she’s direct. Oftentimes blunt. Even if she’s feeling unsure, she’s not unsure of her words. She often says or asks things seemingly out of the blue, and doesn’t shy away from Depth in her conversation. Rather, it seems to be her comfort-zone, since she defaults to asking Geralt what he associates with the sea rather than making smalltalk. 

That last statement, that she’s neither calm nor composed, to me says a lot. She speaks what she feels, often more easily than what she thinks. And I suspect that she often experiences her thoughts as feelings—something that comes from her gut rather than her head which is reserved for biting wit and incisive observation. 

Essi knows people. Knows them well enough to push their buttons, either jokingly or politically. She’s not afraid of authority, and even though her emotions fill her entirely—to the point her hands will shake—they do not render her helpless to them; rather, it seems, her emotions fuel her rhetorical capacity. Being a bard, this makes sense since the language of song and poetry are driven by the dialogue between emotion and intellect. 

Moreover, she speaks what she feels to be the truth of her experience, whether it’s her experience of someone else, or her experience of herself. What she believes to be true (however subjectively) she speaks. And if she doesn’t know something, she asks and bluntly: 

The fact that she “blanches” yet doesn’t stumble over her words here tells me she’s an excellent performer, and reinforces my previous comment that while her emotions fill her, they don’t rule over her. And yet, we also know she is impulsive and impetuous from her conversation with Geralt on the terrace: 

In this exchange, we see one of Essi’s most fascinating self-contradictions at play. She claims not to know how to control herself, says she is impetuous, reactive (the next morning she bluntly admits to being “nosey” and owns it). And yet her ability to recognize and acknowledge her lack of self-control indicates a depth and a level of self-awareness that reinforces my previous statement that she experiences life as a series of feelings—impulses, emotions, “vibes”—more than what we would categorize as “thoughts”. Essi doesn’t have an internal monologue; she has an external monologue of whatever internal experiences make their way into a verbal headspace. She’s not one to prattle on, talk for the sake of talking (like some Other Bards we know) because even though she has a lot going on internally, only some of it will ever make its way into words.  

As demure, dainty, and fragile as Essi seems to be, she also has, as Dandelion puts it, “a dark side”. 

Exactly what that is, we never really learn, but we get a glimpse of it from Geralt’s perspective at the banquet:

What did she say? While we may not be meant to ever know the answer, we know that a) Essi was smug about it; and b) whatever it was was cutting and more than likely sexually demoralizing in nature. 

Which brings us to…

Sexuality and Romance

There are several instances throughout A Little Sacrifice that indicate a level of sexual maturity and confidence in Essi that contrast interestingly with her emotional naivety (which I’ll get to in a moment). 

It’s possible, in this instance, that Essi simply doesn’t not abide by the same “rules” about physical boundaries and various social meanings behind physical touch. This moment is certainly not enough to draw any conclusions one way or another. However, the description of her kiss with Geralt on the terrace is less ambiguous in this way, more ambiguous in another.

I first want to fully acknowledge that this scene is a mess of different signals, and I believe the lack of further insight on the part of the author is not intriguing, but lazy. But I digress. She kisses him eagerly and expertly, which suggests that she, mechanically at least, knows what she’s doing with her face and someone else’s. The fact that she distances the rest of her body from Geralt suggests a few things: a) she wants to kiss Geralt but doesn’t know whether he feels the same way, so doesn’t want to commit fully; b) she knows that Geralt doesn’t know why he’s kissing her, and so is trying to distance herself from him so that neither of them makes a mistake; c) she’s caught off-guard and doesn’t mind having a good smooch but doesn’t want him to get the wrong idea about her wanting anything else; d) all of the above. 

I would include the possibility that she feels threatened by him and is merely going through the motions, but there’s enough evidence before and after to refute that as a forefront possibility. That’s not to say it isn’t in the background, but the use of “eagerly” would suggest that she’s enthusiastic about a little lip action. We do know that she’s not “looking for a man for the night” from the end of their conversation before going back inside. 

I have a few headcanons about Essi’s sexuality and I shuffle back and forth between them depending on the day. There’s enough evidence to support a halfhearted claim that Essi is a virgin (which doesn’t inherently negate the evidence for sexual confidence), but I lean more toward the notion that Essi is sexually experienced (thought likely far less than Dandelion), picky (hence the red-eared young man at the banquet), and romantically inexperienced. There is, I will say, a level of modesty, vulnerability, and hesitation in her interactions with Geralt that lead me to believe she has had minimal directly-sexual encounters. 

Is it projecting to say she reminds me a lot of myself in my early-20s? Yes. But to say this character resonates very strongly with my personal experiences, I think, gives some character insight where information and road signs are lacking from the author. And I will say, it is very in-keeping with Essi’s ongoing self-contradictions to be both bawdy and sexually inexperienced. Her canon story arc, unfortunately, doesn’t allow us to imagine her a few years older, but the idea of a more confident, self-assured Essi at 23/24 makes me very happy. 

Now, I’m not going to slog through the dialogue disaster that is Essi’s emotional outpouring to Geralt, but suffice it to say, it’s clear she’s never been infatuated/in love before, though she is clearly a romantic. She hates the feeling of being in love, hates that it turns her needy, hates the way it makes her skin crawl and her stomach churn. But there’s something appealing about it as well, and I think there’s a part of her that is desperate to make love. Regardless of whether or not she’s sexually active, to me it’s clear that she wants an emotional-physical connection of some kind; she seeks out comfort from Geralt, seeks out affection, tenderness, but she is also seeking an emotional return—the little sacrifice that Geralt cannot find within himself to give. If she’s had bedmates in the past, it would be remiss to call them lovers. 

That’s it, folks! That’s all I’ve got for the time being. As always, questions and observations are welcome (as well as disagreements as long as you’re willing to do it nice and polite like). 

#Essi Daven #Character reference #canon reference #tw canon discussion #character analysis #canon criticism #A Little Sacrifice #The witcher #The Sword of Destiny

[lailannajacobs]

If You’d Ever Had A Real Boyfriend, Maybe You’d Know What To Do With A Fake One | GIBP IV

Pairing: Fey!Loki x fem!reader 

Chapter Summary: You experience your first council event and get to know Loki a little bit better. 

Warnings: pure fluff

Word Count: 12.5k 

A/N: I know this took quite a while to come out, but I ended up writing far more than I’d intended and I spent a lot of time editing to try and get the fake dating as perfect as I possibly could. I hope you don’t mind the length so much and I’d love to know what you think of the chapter!! <3 

You had wanted to spend the whole hour in the bath, scrubbing the stupid Junabee from your hair, but Loki had given you an hour alone and you weren’t about to waste it soaking in a tub; no matter how luxurious or tempting it was. You’d chosen a dark silky blouse and fancy but comfortable pants, quickly noticing that Valkyrie had made a slitted compartment in the leg for your dagger. You hadn’t spoken about it with her and you didn’t know if that was her way of ominously warning you to stay safe or simply that she’d gotten a better read on you during your afternoon than you’d thought. Either way, you were glad to have it there.

Even though they clashed with the outfit, you’d kept your boots on underneath, refusing to part with them. You weren’t in the mood to get blisters from shoes you’d never worn before and needed to to know you could run and move if need be. Your steps were silent on the floor — another reason you’d kept on the boots — hopefully imperceptible even to Fey hearing. Leaning your ear against the door, you waited, listening for movement in the hallway. Nothing. Your hand was tentative on the handle. You gently pulled open the door and stepped out, eyes scanning the hallway. You bit back a groan.

Loki was leaning against the opposite wall, freshly changed into a dark suit, the cut and style similar to the likes of human fashion and his dark hair combed back. You were momentarily surprised he owned something like that, but with the mountain of clothing you received from Valkerie only hours after meeting her, you should have guessed she would have made something for him as well. It was a clever move on his part, and you wondered if it was him or his seamstress who had decided on the suit. Regardless of who’s idea it was, the clothes fit him so perfectly, even you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly handsome. The thought made you scowl. He raised a brow.

“I thought you were going to be back in an hour,” you blurted then quickly realized how suspicious you sounded.

He shrugged, “I lied.”

The silence stretched on after his words and you turned them over in your mind. He knew you would try and leave. It was the only reason he would have lied about something so unimportant. And you stupidly believed him. You ran your tongue over your teeth, trying to hide your frustration — at him, yes, but also at yourself. You should have known that after sneaking off this morning he’d be watching you even more closely. If you’d have stayed put, maybe you could have gained his trust enough to search the palace on your own. Now, you’d only made everything harder for yourself. There was no way he trusted you before, but he sure in the Seven Hells didn’t trust you now. You should have known better than this. You had to be better than this. You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you struggled to keep ahold of yourself.

He cocked his head, looking at you more closely now, as if he could see beneath your skin if he tried hard enough. You avoided his gaze, watching the trees swaying outside through a nearby window until you were sure your voice wouldn’t crack when you spoke.

You tried to turn the tables on him Instead of trying to defend your own actions, and muttered, “that wasn’t very nice of you.”

He seemed to find that funny, his intense stare breaking as he pushed off the wall and approached with slow, lazy steps, “and what were you about to do, sweetheart?”

You took in a deep breath; pasted on a coy smile. You had to calm down and get your act together if you wanted to get through this. And you were going to get through this. For yourself. For Nat. You had no other choice.

You closed the door behind you.

“Find you, of course,” you replied sweetly.

His head dipped in a slow nod, lips pursed as if he was trying to fight a smile. You didn’t for a second think that he believed me.

“Well, sweetheart, you found me,” he crooned.

You couldn’t fake any kind of enthusiasm, the words dry when you said, “lucky me.”

“Lucky me,” he countered, lips curling into a wicked grin. His eyes were bright and taunting as if he was winning a game you weren’t aware you were playing, “and now that you’ve found me, what are you going to do about it?”

His voice had dropped so that his question sounded like a dare, words laced with danger and promises of something more. Your breath caught in your throat. You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten now that he was leaning against your doorframe. You looked up haughtily, holding his gaze as you searched for something to say in return, but you had nothing. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and raised a brow, that insufferable smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Annoyed and all too aware of how close he was standing, you snorted and pushed past him. It wasn’t the most elegant or articulate, but it was the best you could come up with.

“Anything I should know about this party thingy?” you asked, hoping you could get back onto solid footing with some distance and a neutral question.

He was silent as he strolled beside you and you had to look up at him to make sure he’d heard. The only reason you didn’t repeat the question was the pinched look on his face and the way he began by saying, “I won’t lie to you,”

You stopped short, your hands on your hips. He paused and turned. When you didn’t back down, he nodded as if he’d just remembered lying to you less than an hour ago.

“Not about this,” he explained, though you weren’t comforted in the slightest by his answer. He was obviously comfortable lying to you and seemed to have it in mind that he would need to. Obviously, as king, he wasn’t going to tell you most things, but you wondered what that meant for your fate and Nat’s.

You kept walking, not wanting to get distracted and make a big deal about something you couldn’t change. For now. You motioned for him to go on.

“The council isn’t going to like you,” he replied bluntly, “they’re all part of the generation that burned down the temples of the old gods and almost half supported the discoveries that led to the war on purity.”

You closed your eyes for a few steps and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. Several decades before Hayle inherited the throne, Dark Elf scholars from Alfhiem discovered that magic flowed through the Nine Realms like currents in a massive loop of energy. They had found that the each specific mutation that differentiated the races attracted certain currents of energy and allowed those mutation to interact with and manipulate the magic of the currents. Humans couldn’t interact with any.

Then, when Odin later took the throne, a human scholar named Brock Rumlow was found guilty of capturing and testing on as many of the other races as he could get his hands on to try and imitate the mutations to give himself more power. Odin had taken the opportunity to turn as many of the other realms as he could against humans, burning the temples the humans had built when they had believed the magic had come from the gods. They had set out to eradicate the ‘lesser race’ — humans who had no power and would inevitably try to steal everyone else’s. Anyone who had sided with Odin despised humans and were a threat to them, even hundreds of years after they had lost the war on purity.

You were in more danger here than you’d realized.

“Great,” you muttered. Then a terrifying thought occurred to you that he might actually agree with them, “if they’re part of your council, why haven’t you gotten rid of them?”

He looked down at me in surprise, “kill them?”

“Kick them off the council,” you snapped, “you were king for at least a little while. You could have changed that.”

You stopped yourself from saying that he should have changed it. The actions of one human should not have been enough to condemn the entire race for future generations and every other race that had sided with them. But you should have known when Asgard had abandoned everyone good in the war that they didn’t care for anyone other than themselves.

Loki remained silent as a beautiful Fey woman crossed you in the hallway and nodded politely as she walked past. Her eyes lingered on you and the space between you and Loki so you stepped a little closer to him as you walked, your shoulders practically touching. When you were certain she couldn’t see you anymore, you stepped away from him, afraid he could feel your anger radiating off you in waves.

“Their positions are for life,” he said with a shrug, “and unfortunately, that’s a long time.”

“Unfortunate,” you scoffed, then muttered, “maybe you should have considered the first option gave you.”

His steps faltered slightly, “I beg your pardon?”

You knew he’d heard with his Fey hearing.

“Nothing,” you chirped.

He looked at you warily before continuing, scanning your body from head to toe as if he was looking for the dagger you’d pulled on him the day before.

“Thankfully, the head of the court is impartial,” he finally said when he seemed satisfied you weren’t going to try anything, “and the ultimate decision is his. My advice to you is to ignore the rest of them and focus on making this convincing.”

You nodded. His plan made sense, but there was so much that wasn’t on your side simply because you were human. If this was a fight, you were starting it blindfolded and with a hand tied behind your back. You clenched your teeth, frustrated. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention how desolate our situation was before you’d agreed to it. Though you hadn’t really agreed to it. It would be a long time before you forgot the way he’d casually threatened your life and the pain he’d caused last night.  

“If you knew all this, then why in the Seven Hells did you drag me into this?” you snarled, unable to keep the emotion from your voice, “wouldn’t it have been easier to use someone who was Fey? I’m sure Valkyrie would have been available.”

You weren’t sure why you’d called out the seamstress, but now that you had, you wouldn’t mind him explaining some of the million secrets you knew they were both keeping from you.

He didn’t seemed fazed by your outburst, his face almost more impassive than it was before, “easier maybe, but it would have been too obvious. The fact that you’re so unexpected makes it the most believable.”

Your anger was dropped to a simmer for a moment when you wondered what he meant by ‘too obvious’. What kind of past was between them? Maybe something was still there and this whole situation was coming between them. Maybe your deal was ruining a perfectly decent relationship. You decided you didn’t care. You weren’t here to become invested in their lives. You had other — more important — things to worry about.

“This hallway leads to the council’s banquet hall,” he continued once he realized that you weren’t going to say anything else on the subject, “if ever I’m not here to escort you, this is the easiest way to get from our rooms to the hall.”

“There are other ways?” you asked, thinking that the better you knew the layout of the palace, the better your chances were of finding the Hand.

He glanced at you side-long, wary of your question. With reason, but you weren’t about to confirm that.

“I mean, what if I’m not coming from my room,” you supplied, hurrying along.

“You can always ask for help,” he said. His face took on a serious quality that you hadn’t seen on him before, “the walls have ears here. Unless you’re in your room, know that I’ll be able to hear you if you’d like help.”

You didn’t know what to think about that. You’d been talking pretty freely about your deal, even though it had been in hushed tones most of the time. But that meant that whatever you said could be overheard by anyone. You were going to have to be even more careful than you’d first thought.

He nodded as if he could read your mind and honestly, with the minute demonstrations of magic you’d seen so far, you weren’t sure he couldn’t. You didn’t know anything about Fey magic and because of it, you were even more at a disadvantage. If you were going to have to spend a few moons here then you were going to have to learn more about it. Maybe even put your pride aside and ask him about it.

“Do you think you can make it convincing in there, sweetheart?” he asked, pausing a few steps away from a set of double doors. You’d been so lost in thought that you hadn’t realized you were already at the banquet hall.

“YN,” you grumbled, “and I think I can manage.”

“Good. Then I think we should hold hands,” he said.

You rolled your eyes, though you were glad he’d had the decency to accept your terms and ask you first.

“How romantic. And original,” you laughed, though there was no humour in the sound, “did you come up with that all on your own, prince?”

“You did want a heads up,” he ran a hand through his hair, “and funny thing is sweetheart, love isn’t original. Or so I’ve heard.”

“Never been in love?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“No,” he kept his eyes on the door ahead, not giving anything away, his voice steady when he asked, “have you?”

A crazy kind of laughter bubbled in your chest at the irony and impossibility of your situation. Afraid it would turn into full blown panic, you managed to push it far enough down to say, “no. Looks like we’re perfect for this.”  

He rocked back on his heels, the corner of his mouth barely twitching upward, “I knew there was a reason I chose you.”

“I broke into your palace, I don’t think that counts,” you scoffed.

He offered his hand, “I let you.”

“Keep telling yourself that, prince,” you said, your frustration back as if it had never left. You tried to ignore that familiar itch blooming at your tailbone, “you people are so overconfident and arrogant that anyone with half a brain could break into this place.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, that infuriating smirk growing.

You crossed your arms, tucking your hands tightly against your body to hide your growing temper, “not because of your charm.”

He leaned in close, lips almost touching your ear when he whispered, “you’re no peach either, my queen.”

“At least I’m not a spoiled brat who coerces helpless humans into miserable bargains,” you whispered back, head snapping to face him and your composure slipping away faster than usual. We were so close now your noses were practically touching and you made sure to take a step away from him.

He shook his head and you felt a shimmer of magic surround you like a bubble. You looked around as if you could physically see it, but obviously nothing was there.  When you looked back at him, Loki’s eyes were ablaze.

“Like you’re helpless, YN. You obviously don’t like me and that’s fine, but don’t think for a second that I’m clueless. You can fool them, sweetheart, but not me.”

You let out another humourless laugh, easing the pressure in your chest slightly, “and there’s that overconfidence and arrogance I was just talking about.”

“Are there any other insights about me you would like to share?” he asked, that bored expression quickly replacing any sort of emotion you might have seen on his face.

“Not right now,” you snapped.

He huffed a sigh, “then we should go in.”

You took his hand. It was a rough, warrior’s, easily engulfing yours.

He smirked.

“Shut up,” you growled, tempted to rip your hand away, “this is a necessity.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he pointed out, though there was no doubt in your mind that he knew exactly what he’d done to get under your skin so easily. Just the thought infuriated you more.

“This is never going to work,” you muttered.

He paused, voice taunting when he said, “not with that attitude it won’t.”

It took all of your restraint not to punch him in the arm with your free hand. He was so cavalier about all of this that you had trouble believing he took any of it seriously. How were you supposed to get the book when this was over when his vanity seemed to take precedence over everything else? He raised your hands and placed a slow kiss on yours, his intense gaze never leaving you. You glared at him and could feel his lips twist into a smile on your skin. Before you could snap at him for being an arrogant prick, he pushed open the doors and was on the move again, tugging you along with him. You did your best to keep up with his long strides through the smaller hallway that led to fancy looking doors at the end. You didn’t know if you were late or it if it was you dreading the party, but it felt like he’d picked up the pace.

You kept repeating to yourself that the walls had ears and that you had a job to do. You had Nat’s face etched into your mind — the sheer panic, wide eyes and gaunt face of the day the two of you had gotten captured. You had to get her out. You had to. Which meant that you couldn’t go around hating the man you were supposed to love. At least, not blatantly you couldn’t.

“I couldn’t be happier than to be here with you in this moment, Loki,” you said as you approached the doors that looked even more impressive up close, “there’s no one else I’d ever want at my side.”

He stopped with his hand on the door and looked over at you with a curious, but slightly amused expression on his face. He leaned over so that his shoulder barely brushed up against yours and said, “commendable attempt, sweetheart, but you might want to remind your face of your intentions if you want anyone to believe it.”

Then he pulled you into the room with him before you could say anything else. You did your best to wipe the scowl from your face. It wasn’t easy to do when this was the last place you wanted to be, but every pair of eyes were on you so you had no choice. And there were a lot of them.

The banquet hall was filled with Fey in elegant evening wear, male and female alike, all dissecting you as if you’d intruded on their private event. The room was smaller than you thought it would be, though it still had high arched ceilings, wide stained glass windows and a long table set up in the back with an impressive spread of food. A quick scan of the crowd gave you the impression that there were almost fifty Fey here but not one friendly face among them. Your legs suddenly felt like jelly and you were surprised you were somehow still standing.

Loki looked down at you and raised a brow. It was a silent challenge as if he thought you were intimidated by his court — that you couldn’t keep up. The arrogant look reignited the furry that had been doused by the judging stares and brought you back to your senses fast enough that you didn’t stumble after Loki when he walked you toward the centre of the party. Because of course you were going to the centre of it. Where else would you go?

“Nice to see everyone,” he began, shooting them all courtly smiles, though he lingered slightly longer on the five men who stood a few steps apart from the others. Their tunics looked similar to most of the other men, but you could tell their designs were more carefully tailored for their bodies and the fabrics better suited for the cut of the shirt and pants they wore. These men exuded power and confidence, and you could only assume that they were the council members that you were supposed to impress.

But the council of stuffy old men that you’d been expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only two of them appeared to be over the age of fifty, all the other in their early thirties at most — though you didn’t doubt that most of them were at least a few generations of humans old. All were Fey, and objectively speaking, all of them were quite handsome. Their looks were sharp and angular, traditional of the Fey and alluring in the way that they were surrounded by an air of magic. But the moment you looked into their eyes you knew you didn’t want to be in the room with them any longer than you had to. These men might not have been cruel at the beginning of their lives, but any kindness that might have once lived within them was long gone. And judging by the way their lips puckered in disgust, Loki had undersold their hatred for humans. You didn’t know if Asgard had ever had a human queen before the war, but you’d been warned they weren’t keen on it now. You just hadn’t been ready for them to look at you with more disgust on their faces than most of the people in Odin’s realm did — that was, those who bothered to look at you at all.

“We didn’t realize you were back from your travels, prince Loki,” the Fey man in the middle sneered.

“I arrived yesterday, Tywin” Loki replied curtly, his face impassive as he ignored the jab, “my court was aware.”

You tried not to stare back and forth between the councilmen and Loki. You had assumed that the council and his court were interchangeable, but obviously if they had been, these men would have been aware of his return — his return from where though? And if he had arrived yesterday, then you’d gotten to Asgard not long after he had. Maybe if you’d gotten here sooner you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess…Regardless, you couldn’t help but wonder if your arrivals were a coincidence or if there was something more going on to this whole situation than just a fight for his crown? There had to be a million things he wasn’t telling you, but would any of those things affect your end of the bargain? There were too may questions you didn’t know the answers to and you had to keep your face neutral before your rising worry ruined your scheme and your chances of getting the Hand before it even started.

“And who is this human you’ve brought with you?” Tywin asked, never once giving you any of his attention. He spoke the word as if you were a shameful object Loki had brought with him to use to taunt the council rather than a living, breathing, conscious being.

Loki lolled his head to the side, shooting you a lazy look you took as a signal to answer the Fey’s questions.

You lifted your chin, staring them all down one by one, and spoke slowly, pronouncing each syllable clearly just to make sure they got it, “YN YLN.”

The man’s lip curled, but he didn’t get a chance to speak.

“She will be my queen,” Loki declared.

There was no hesitation or doubt in his voice. It didn’t matter that he needed their approval to take the throne or that they had clearly pointed out that the title no longer belonged to him, he was above these people. They answered to him. Even masked by the bored look on his face, the authority in his voice was so strong, you found yourself believing it. And judging by the frustration on their faces, they did too — even if it was begrudgingly.

“We’ll discuss the technical aspects later,” he decided, his tone suddenly flippant as if he hadn’t just commanded the whole room into silence, “tonight is not meant for business.

He cut through the middle of the crowd and led you to the banquet table at the back of the room, dismissing the rest of the council. The silence lingered and followed you to the table, but slowly, the chatter began again, taking on a life of its own. You let out a since once the music had started again and their gazes were no longer boring into your back. Loki let go of your hand and offered you drink.

You must have looked at the pale red liquid suspiciously because he said, “it’s safe for humans.”

You hated that he seemed to be able to read your expressions so easily.

You grabbed the flute form his hands, the liquid sloshing in the glass before you downed it in a few quick gulps. The taste was sharp and not overly sweet, and went down smoothly. Which meant you had to be careful. You were human. Although your abilities would inherently handle the liquor better than most humans, that was what you were at the moment. Human. One too many drinks and you might do something incredibly stupid.

“Don’t look too pleased to be here,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. You thought it looked like he wanted to tear his hair out, but the look flashed by so quickly you were pretty sure you’d imagined it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. The arrogance on his made you sure that you had.

He handed you another drink, “try not to spill this one.”

“I hate this place,” you whispered.

“Mingle,” he whispered back, “then you can leave.”

You blew him a kiss and stomped off. It was a pitiful attempt at love and you knew it. You needed to do a better job at pretending to be his queen, knowing that if you didn’t, you would never forgive yourself. But of course, the things you knew and the things you did rarely matched up. It was the reason you were a human stuck in this stupid mess in the first place.

Loki stared at you from across the room but didn’t approach. You tried to keep from rubbing your temples. You’d been in Asgard less than a day and you were already exhausted. You chalked it up to stress, not wanting to admit to yourself what the real was and rolled your shoulders back. You smiled at a passing Fey woman. She smiled back. There. That wasn’t so bad. You had a job to do. Loki wanted convincing? You were going to make it so damned convincing he was going to let you spend the whole day sleeping in tomorrow. You tried not to grind your teeth at the thought that you still needed someone to ‘let you’ do whatever you wanted. You down your drink, set it on the table and grabbed two more from a passing waiter. Once you got this done, you wouldn’t need anyone to let you do anything. You were going to be free again. Nat was going to be free. You could this. You spotted Loki across the room and off you went. You could do this.

Only you didn’t get far. A member of the council stopped you with a hand clamped around your arm. You flinched at the vice-grip. If the Fey man noticed your discomfort, it didn’t bother him enough to let go.

“You’re quite pretty for a human,” he leered, drawing you closer.

He was the youngest of the council members by far, looking about Loki’s age. His sand coloured hair was cut short and styled in a way that showcased his pointed ears and accentuated his ocean blue eyes. He was tall and square, holding himself like a warrior. You didn’t doubt he was one. Nothing about him was kind. Everything was rough looking. The humans had a myth that the other races were all carved from stone by the gods and brought to life through their immortal breath, but this Fey looked like they’d forgotten to polish him off, the lines around his eyes harsh and unfeeling.

It took all of your restraint not to shove him off, only the thought of Nat fending off jerks like this in Flaik keeping your anger in check. You were trained for this. That training might have been buried deep beneath hundreds of years of memories but it was there and it was time you dug it back up and used it.

You patted his arm, your cheeks forced into a smile, “interesting that a man such as yourself would say that.”

HIs lip curled in disgust as if he was insulted you hadn’t swooned over his pathetic excuse of an insult, “why’s that?”

“Because I thought the Fey were supposed to have perfect eyesight. Quite pretty doesn’t cut it for your future queen” you ripped your arm out of his grasp and strode off to where you’d last seen Loki, but he wasn’t there.

Great. Of course he’d left you to fend off these vultures yourself. One day you were going to punch him and you weren’t going to be sorry about it.

“Nicely done,” Loki whispered, standing so close you were practically touching.

You almost jumped out of your skin. You had no clue where he’d come from.

“Don’t patronize me,” you snapped, shoving one of the two glasses at him,  “I don’t need it.”

He peered down at you, but didn’t try and defend himself, “understandable, but you may want my advice. If you can avoid Helio, do. He might be the youngest on the council but that doesn’t mean he’s any better than the rest of them.”

You snorted, “nice court you’ve got here, prince.”

“It’s a lifetime position, remember?” he said, nodding politely to the guests as you walked along the fringes of the party.

You knew he’d told you that before, but this time you deflated, feeling like you’d agreed to a situation that kept getting far more hopeless that you’d realized. He stopped and gave you a little shrug like he knew exactly how you were feeling. For once, there was nothing condescending in his expression and he genuinely seemed to understand. Maybe he did. He needed this to work too. But then again, maybe he didn’t. He was only loosing a title and not the person he loved most in this world.

He extended his hand. You tried to control the jittery feeling that was spreading through your limbs and through your body, making your breaths more and more shallow. Instead, you tried to focus on the fact that what you were doing wasn’t impossible. Improbable, yes, but not impossible. It would only become impossible if you didn’t take his hand and work with him. You didn’t have to like him. Seven hells, you didn’t even have to trust him. All you had to do was stop letting every little thing discourage you and do this with both feet in. You’d find a way to get the hand. You and Nat had gotten through worse. This time would’t be different. It couldn’t be.

You took his arm instead and stood a little closer for effect. The gesture put a little smile on his face. It was the perfect look to convince the council he was besotted and you knew you should do the same. Remembering the lessons from your childhood, you smoothed out the tension you knew must be on your face and told yourself that you hadn’t messed anything up yet. You were human in a Fey’s realm. It was only natural to be a little tense. You could play the part. You could lie just as well as he could.

“What’s the goal tonight?” you asked, voice low so that you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention from the fey stealing glances at you.

His face was pleasant when he said, “I just need you to be seen.”

“With you?” you tried to clarify, a little put off by the way his tone didn’t match the look on his face.

“No. Just seen,” he brushed back your hair, leaning in so close that you shivered when his lips brushed against your ear, “I don’t trust any of them,” he whispered, “and neither should you.”

You wanted him to say more, but you understood enough to know that making sure you were seen by all the council was a failsafe to make sure nothing happened to you. If they all knew who you were and what you looked like, none of them could claim ignorance if you were kicked out of the palace — or worse. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat. Yesterday he had made your deal seem like a piece of cake. Now you were sure he’d lied. Only the worry that your life might be on the line kept you from lashing out in anger.

“If I die, you don’t get to be king,” you reminded him through clenched teeth.

Loki backed off slowly, his movements measured and controlled, “if you died, I couldn’t imagine ever being sane enough to properly rule a kingdom.”

His words were a subtle reminder that despite your distance and the noise in the room, everyone here had Fey hearing and could listen in if they really wanted to — and they probably did. You mentally slapped yourself. You were going to have to start thinking before you spoke.

“Your words are too sweet,” you said, shooting him a pointed look, “but you’re far too strong to lose your sanity over  a human, especially that our love will live on for far long than I will.”

He seemed to realize his mistake and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You narrowed your eyes at him and he shrugged with a little smirk.

“It is your everlasting love that will make me the best king I could possibly be,” he looked like he was enjoying himself far too much and you waited warily for his next words, “after all, sweetheart, I know you’d scale any building for me.”

You placed your hand on your heart for effect. It was better than punching his arm.

“And yet your love is so irresistible, it’s almost as if I didn’t have a choice in the matter,” you shot back.

He grinned.

“Aren’t you two sweet,” a male voice sneered.

You almost groaned. This had to be another councilman. Loki smirked and mouthed tell it to your face before he turned so that you were facing a man who resembled a boulder both in shape and wit. You were glad it wasn’t Helio again, but this one didn’t seem much better. Still, you managed somewhat a decent smile.

He didn’t wait for either of you to speak before continuing.

“I’d heard a rumour a few moons ago that we were going to have two kings instead of a king and a queen rule Asgard this time. But I don’t know where such a rumour could have come from, especially that you two have known each other for…” he was waiting for an answer, looking between you with a smug grin. You doubted he could have made it more obvious that he was hoping to catch you in a lie because these people didn’t believe you were in love. Whether that was because you were human or because you weren’t the right sex, you were no longer sure. You snuggled even closer to Loki and looked up at him with an expression on your face that you hoped showed nothing other than love.

Loki licked his lips, teeth scraping against his lower lip as he tried to hold back laughter. Your gaze inadvertently dropped to his mouth for too long before you looked back up into his bright eyes. Judging by the strange expression on his face, you weren’t doing a very good job at conveying love, which only made it harder not to scowl.

“Every day I learn something new about her,” Loki crooned, “it feels like we keep meeting over and over…like we just met yesterday.”

There was a victorious little glint in his eyes that you hoped the councilman interpreted as love. All you saw was a challenge to keep up.

You widened your grin, partly afraid it might look a little crazy but going with it anyways, “and yet, at the same time it feels like we’ve known each other for an eternity. I can’t remember what it was like not knowing him.”

You both turned back to face the Fey man and he narrowed his eyes, trying to see beneath the act. You tried to snuggle in a little closer, but with Loki’s hands in his pockets, there wasn’t much more you could do to get closer. He seemed to realize that in the way he stiffened slightly, but neither of you moved, afraid too much fidgeting would make the councilman see something he wouldn’t have otherwise found.

You were afraid the Fey could hear your heart pounding and you waited for him to say something. Finally, it was Loki who spoke instead.

“YN, I would like you to meet councilman Lucius Bonnefort. Lucius, meet your future queen.”  

Lucius grit his teeth. He hadn’t been given a command, but the order from his king was clear. He was to treat you with the respect of any other Fey here. Loki raised a brow, waiting. It looked like Lucius might turn his teeth to dust he was gritting them so hard.

“Pleasure,” was all he muttered before sulking off.

You looked up at Loki and found a frigid expression on his face. His council may have been challenging him but at least they still respected him. The harsh lines on Loki’s face didn’t soften. Maybe it wasn’t respect. Maybe it was fear. You’d gotten a glimpse of his power last night that you didn’t want to relive. Maybe they knew better than to cross their king.

You strolled and mingled with some of the other party guests, but none of the other council members came to see you. It was clear they wanted nothing to do with the two of you, and although Lucius seemed to have bought your answer, you weren’t convinced any of them bought your act. It wasn’t like they wanted to, so why would they? The two of you standing close together wasn’t going to change any of that.

You stopped yourself from rubbing your eyes, trying not to let show how discouraged you were becoming. You’d never been in love. You’d never even had a serious relationship or anything that lasted longer than a couple nights. If this was going to work, you had to think. You couldn’t rely on your own experiences to get you through this. You needed something big. Something that would convince them, without a shadow of a doubt, that you were at least a real couple.

You glanced around the room, looking at all the people who refused to make eye contact with you. As much as you hated it, you needed them to look at you. And you needed to make sure that you did something big when they did. An idea began to take shape in your mind. You didn’t like it, but you were pretty sure it would work.

“Mind if I break one of our rules?” you whispered as softly as you could, catching Loki’s attention.

He leaned back, an amused look on his face. The dip of his head was barely visible but enough to give you the go ahead. You took the drink from his hand and grabbed a knife off the table behind him. Loki observed every movement curiously, no longer seeming quite so bored with the event. You gently tapped the knife against the glass, the hollow ringing echoing throughout the room. It wasn’t hard to get everyone’s attention when more than half of them had been stealing glances at you all evening. You placed the knife gently on the table and you free hand fluttered up instinctively to the pendent resting under your shirt. The weight of it was a strangely comforting reminder that what you were about to do was for the right reasons.

“Hello everyone,” you cleared your throat, hating the way your voice trembled, “I know a toast is a bit of a human tradition, but I was hoping, since I intend to be your queen in a few short moons, that I could say hello with a little tradition of my own. I just wanted to say what a pleasure it has been meeting all of you and I hope to get to know you better in the future. I love Loki more than any of you can imagine, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life here!”

The speech was premature and overconfident at best, but it wasn’t only a statement to prove that you be queen, it was also a message to Loki. You might have gotten caught off guard when you’d broken into the palace, but you were going to walk away with the Hand. You could play these games better than anyone here. You had no choice to, and you had the skills to prove it.

The tentative clapping wasn’t even done when you turned around, placed your drink on the table, grabbed Loki by the face and pulled him in for a kiss. He stiffened under your touch, lips frozen in place. You panicked. What did you just do? You were about to pull away and try to come up with a credible excuse for what had just happened when finally, his hands slipped around your waist and he pulled you closer, kissing you back. You melted into his touch. His lips were soft and gentle, and he let you lead the kiss until you pulled away slowly. You stared into his eyes, not quite sure that you’d actually done that. Loki didn’t say anything, his body oddly stiff. You couldn’t read his expression so you stepped back, his hands lingering a little longer before he let go.  Unnerved by this strange version of Loki, you bopped him on the nose with the tip of your finger, surprising yourself with the gesture. His eyes narrowed but you only grinned, taking your little victories where you could get them.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening!” you announced, reaching around him for you glass and raising it.

You were met with a few wide eyes and bewildered looks, but thankfully, everyone raised their glasses and took a sip. You nodded and smiled, meeting a few eyes before turning back to face Loki. His courtly smile masked whatever he was feeling, and you had no idea whether he was furious or not. He extended an arm. You took it but you didn’t know what to think.

This time, as you walked through the party, you got a few smiles and a few nice to meet yous. You shot a winning smile to a fey man as you passed. Not sure what to do with it, he immediately looked away, flustered. The reaction eased some of the pressure on your chest, but you knew the party was far from over. And judging by the way Loki was deathly silent, you were also going to have to contend with him later. He pulled you into a dark alcove at the far end of the banquet hall, the sounds of the party falling away. Apparently he thought sooner was better than later.

“So that’s how we’re doing this?” he demanded.

You had to crane your neck to look up at him you were so close, your chests practically touching. His eyes were emeralds on fire, and with the ghost of that fake smile still on his lips, the effect was terrifying. Despite the number of the drinks you’d downed, you were aware enough to be wary of it.

“I warned you first,” you blurted out. Hating how defensive you sounded, you took a deep, steadying breath but the way it closed the distance between you did nothing to calm your nerves. If anything, it was almost as if your magics were creating an electric current between your bodies. You didn’t know if he could feel it so you ignored it, “I made the right call. Look at them.”

He learned over you to see around the corner, looking at the crowd who was still talking about your little toast. He smelled like mint and summer nights and you tried not to breathe in the pleasant scent.

He settled back into the alcove and raised a brow, “all for the greater good, right sweetheart?”

The words were spoken like a threat rather than an observation, dangerous and cunning. You swallowed, wondering what you’d just gotten yourself into. Actually, you knew what you’d gotten yourself into and you were doing a damned good job of it. If he thought he could intimidate you out of doing your job and securing the Hand then he was very well mistaken.

You jut your chin up, your faces inches away now, “exactly. Maybe you should keep up Prince Loki.”

He chuckled, his breath tickling your cheek. You mimicked his arrogant brow lift, waning for an answer. He said nothing, leaning in even closer. Your breath hitched and you wondered if he was going to kiss you just to spite you.

“If you’re going to make this a competition,” he whispered with a wolfish glint in his eyes, “then I’m willing to play, sweetheart.”

He pulled you out of the alcove before you had a chance to reply. You didn’t know if you’d just made things harder for yourself, but you’d definitely made them more interesting. Though you weren’t sure more interesting was what you needed.

The crowd parted for you as Loki cut across the room and you cursed your short legs for having so much trouble keeping up. He led you toward the only Fey here who actually looked like an old man. His sharp cheekbones and tight skin had gone soft and wrinkly, and the long hair cascading down past his shoulders was as white as his long beard, both of which resembled the frozen landscape of Niflheim. The fey looked thoughtfully between the two of you as you came to a stop in front of him, the corner of his eyes crinkling.

“You two are certainly something,” the fey said.

“That’s love,” you gushed, taking the lead on the situation.

Loki placed a quick kiss to your temple before making the introductions. The fey was Eamon Loveless, the head councilman and the one who would have the final say on your relationship. For some reason, probably to get back at you, Loki had brought you to the most important person in the room. You straightened. You could do this.

“Prince Loki,” Eamon was looking at you when he spoke, “I must say, when you told us you’d found your future queen, I hadn’t been expecting Miss YLN. You hadn’t quite painted a clear picture.”

You weren’t sure what Eamon was accusing him of, but Loki didn’t look worried. With his hands still in his pockets as if he couldn’t be bothered to take them out, he gave a little shrug.

“I didn’t want to influence your opinion before meeting her,” Loki explained, “but I imagine you could only have been pleasantly surprised.”

Eamon smiled, “I’m glad you’ve found someone else who makes you happy.”

Loki’s arms tightened at his side, squishing your arm in between his. Any more and it would hurt. You tried not to look up at him in surprise. There had been someone else? Who? When? Immediately, Valkyrie flashed through your mind.

“YN is magnificent,” he grit out, obviously affected by the comment.

Suddenly, the two of you were too stiff. Too awkward. You tried for a fond smile. Eamon’s expression never changed so you weren’t sure if you’d achieved it or not. You felt the panic begin to rise. Where was the Loki who had lied so easily to Valkyrie? Where was the king who’d commanded the room? Where was the prick who’s taunted you seconds ago? The silence was dragging on and you had to fight the urge to fill it with useless babbling. Instead, you lifted Loki’s hand from his pocket and interlaced your hands, giving yourself time to think.

“He’s too kind,” you finally said, addressing Eamon, “it was his kindness that first attracted me to him.”

“And how did you meet?” he asked.

Your heart flipped in your chest. You thought you had come up with something clever to fill the silence but really you’d just dug yourselves into an even deeper hole. You opened your mouth but nothing came out. Snapping it shut, you let out a sharp breath that you hoped he misconstrued for a laugh. If this was a competition, then both of you were failing miserably.

“Why don’t you tell the story?” you asked, looking up at Loki.

He looked down at you, eyes glazed over and you weren’t sure he even saw you. You dug your nails into his hand. Hard. The pain must have snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d been sucked into because that smug little grin returned. You’d never thought you’d actually be glad to see it.

“It feels like it was yesterday,” his eyes were bright as if he found himself amusing, “I was in Midgard visiting King Earl and she was a maid.”

“So he thought,” you interrupted, doing your best not to glare at him. At least he was out of whatever that was, even if it meant he was back to annoying you, “I was actually a soldier in the king’s guard and I knocked Loki flat on his ass for his mistake.”

The fey’s eyes widened. Loki chuckled. He didn’t seemed bothered by your comment. If anything, it looked more like he was warming up to the idea of your little competition.

“That was only because I was stunned by her incredible beauty,” he explained.

“And my skill apparently.”

You thought he was going to offer another counterpoint, but instead he nodded, “it’s all true. Though I must say, normally we’re more evenly matched.”

Eamon nodded slowly, dark eyes taking in everything, “and what happened next?”

“I asked her to dinner,” Loki answered simply and you thought that was going to be that, but he wasn’t letting you off the hook that easily, “but she said no.”

“No?” Eamon asked, surprised.

By now your little story had gathered a small crowd and everyone was looking at you expectantly. The human who’d turned down the future king of Asgard. You couldn’t glare at Loki, fearing you’d give something away, but you knew he was grinning, watching you squirm. You’d told hm to keep up. You should’ve expected that a king would play to win.

You shrugged, “I didn’t think we’d have anything in common. And I was busy.”

The last comment earned a few chuckled from the crowd and you lifted your free hand, palm up, as if to say what could I do about it.

Loki took over, “the next time I went back to Midgard, she realized that maybe she’d been too hasty to turn me down, and she asked me to dinner instead.”

“When someone looks this good, how are you supposed to say no,” you laughed, lifting onto your toes and kissing him on the cheek, “and he was so eager, it was adorable. He said yes immediately.”

He turned and stared at you as if you were the only person in the room. You were caught off guard by the intensity of it and you couldn’t look away. It was a dangerous game you were playing. The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. You smirked.

“Eventually, we did go to dinner and got to know each other better,” he continued, turning to face the ever growing crowd, “turns out we had a lot more in common that she originally thought.”

The crowd laughed at his callback and you almost sighed with relief. The councilmen might not have bought the act yet, but at least the other nobles were beginning to seem convinced.

“It wasn’t love at first sight,” you murmured, knowing you didn’t have to speak loudly for them to hear, “but I think it’s something so much better than that,”

He tilted his head and looked at you with that half smirk and a glint in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you almost would have thought he was impressed. You grinned, hoping your smug look of victory came across as loving. You were good at this, and most importantly, now he knew it too. Just because he needed a queen, didn’t mean he couldn’t easily replace you if this wasn’t working out. You weren’t going to give him any reason to change his mind.

The councilman’s face was still silent and impassive. All you could hear was the heavy beat of your heart as you waited to see if he’d bought any of it.

A gentle smile softened Eamon’s expression and you almost squeed Loki’s hand with relief.

“You two seem to complement each other quite nicely,” Eamon said, “almost as if you were fated to meet.”

This time your smile was genuine. The orange moon was still far away, but at least you were headed in the right direction to get Nat out of Niflheim. Loki let go of your hand and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you in closer. You tried not to be stiff, but it was hard when you were hyper aware of every place that your bodies connected. You’d never been affectionate, even with Nat, so you found yourself over analyzing your posture, wondering how credible you could really be. Loki on the other hand seemed completely at ease, fingers drawing little circles on your side.

“I’m positive you will like it here in Asgard, Miss YLN. Although I’m sure you must find our realm a little strange,” Eamon continued.

His words let you know you weren’t doing a very good job at masking your discomfort.

“I’m fine as long as Loki is here with me,” you tentatively rested your head on his shoulder. It seemed like the right thing to do.

“YN is fine no matter what,” Loki affirmed, “she’s the strongest person I know, fey and human alike.”

You wanted to scoff at such a lie, but it was cut short when you saw the admiration in everyone’s eyes, even the councilman. For some reason, Loki seemed to be able to sell love far better than you could and you looked up to see just what you were missing. His eyes were wide and filled with puppy-like innocence that didn’t at all suit the fey you’d met and spent time with. The crowd didn’t seem to agree. It was a good reminder of his skills as a liar and how little you could actually trust him.

“I must admit that I was worried when I saw that your future queen was human,” Eamon shot an apologetic smile your way, “but I must say that your confidence has inspired me, Prince Loki. I’m looking forward to seeing how both of you manage with your trials in the future.”

Loki tensed at your side, but you didn’t know why. Eamon’s words were a good thing. He wanted to see how you’d overcome obstacles in the future which meant that he wasn’t ready to kick you out of the palace just yet. That might have only made one council member, but you had to start somewhere.

“And we’ll do it with grace and dignity,” you beamed, your cheeks sore from all the fake smiling.

Eamon nodded and wished you a good rest of evening, and with that, the crowd seemed to disperse as well. You stepped out of Loki’s arms and walked off to the banquet table in search of food and a reason to stand facing the windows, desperate for a break in the whole act.

“I think that went well,” you murmured when you felt Loki walk up beside you.

“Not bad,” he agreed, “you’re almost as good at this as I am, sweetheart.”

You snorted, “better, prince. Better.”

“We’ll have to see about that,” he promised, “get ready. Here’s another councilman. Three down, two to go.”

You sighed and popped a small berry that looked like a grape into your mouth. You rolled back your shoulders.

“Ready.”

You both turned around at the same time, wide smiles on your faces.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe to the banquet hall.

Your legs could barely keep you standing and you could feel the soft pulses of a headache coming on. The party was dwindling, but all of the council members were still mingling with the remaining guests. When you’d asked, Loki had said that he’d wanted to stay until they had all gone. All you wanted to do was eat a real meal and go to bed. If you could, you wanted to try and find the Hand first, but really, there was nothing you wanted more than food and sleep. But none of that mattered. You were stuck here.

“You look tired,” Loki remarked, but when you opened your eyes, he was scanning the crowd thoughtfully.

“Human,” you answered and hoped it was enough of an explanation that he wouldn’t press for the real reason.

“True,” he hummed, “I forget sometimes by the way you stare down the council as if you’re ready to fight them all at once. It’s not wonder none of the other guests were brave enough to approach.”

You were about to retort but realized he had a point. And you were too tired to say anything. You let your head fall back on to the wall and closed your eyes.

“I’ll work on it,” you muttered.

He didn’t say anything. Only when you opened your eyes a few moments later thinking maybe he’d left you standing alone did he say, “why don’t we head out?”

You pushed off the doorway, “yes.”

He chuckled and offered you an arm, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this enthusiastic.”

“Well, you’ve never threatened me with a good time before,” you took his arm, surprised by how familiar the gesture had already become.

“And what do you think I’m offering you now?” he asked.

“A meal and a bed, hopefully.”

He raised a brow.

You smacked his arm, “not yours.”

“So yours then,” he smirked.

You smacked him again or good measure.

“We’re not saying goodbye?” you asked when you noticed you were headed away from the party.

“We can always turn back.”

You pulled him along, “don’t you dare.”

Loki slowed his stride and let YN set the pace. She looked exhausted and he felt bad for not having realized sooner the extent of what he’d asked of her. He should have warned her earlier about the councilmen or at least given her more information about what she was going to expect but he’d been too afraid she’d decide the Hand wasn’t worth it and leave him stranded. And despite all that, she’d done amazing in there. She’d even made a party with the council bearable, which was something he didn’t think he’d ever say. It didn’t matter that she’d made her stance on the whole situation very clear by glaring at him every chance she got, the crowd seemed to love her. Which was far more than he could saw of himself. As soon as Eamon had mentioned Cortese he’d frozen up, lost in memories. The only reason no one had questioned his behaviour was because YN had brought him back fast enough that it wasn’t too suspicious and the fact that he was king. Or used to be. If he didn’t start acting like he was in love, all the power in the world wouldn’t make him king of Asgard again. Hela had made sure of that.

Despite having a million other things to do tonight, he wanted nothing other than an early night and a peaceful sleep. But with Hela whispering in the council’s ear day and night, along with the imminent war Gamora had foreseen, Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in moons.

He looked over at YN who’d been quiet since they’d left the hall. She’d done more than enough tonight. He didn’t have to drag her with him.

“YN?”

“Hmm?”

When he looked down at her, he realized her eyes were closed and that she was letting him guide her. Loki was only surprised for a moment before he remembered always seeing her with a glass in her hands. Obviously what she was feeling wasn’t trust.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her brows furrowed but her eyes still didn’t open, “when?”

“Right now.”

That got her attention.

“Eat and sleep,” she replied without thought.

She didn’t say it aloud, but Loki knew she also wanted to be alone. He could see it on her face and the way she’d let out a small sigh when they’d first walked into the silent hallway. He understood the need more than she could imagine.

“I can have dinner sent up to your room…or we can do something else if you prefer?” he added quickly when her face pinched into a strange expression he couldn’t read.

“No,” she blurted out and then stated more calmly, the first option’s fine. Are you joining?”

He shook his head, “only if you’d like me too.”

She seemed to hesitate, looking at the walls as if they physically had ears.

He saved her from having to find a clever way to turn him down, “actually, I have things to take care of tonight and I have to return to the banquet hall. Do you know the way back to your room?”

She nodded so quickly Loki almost laughed. She was a terrible liar. He didn’t know where the performance in the council room had come from, but he had no doubts she was lying to him now. The prospect of being on her own seemed to have rejuvenated her. She straightened, cricking her neck from side to side and scratching over her shoulder. She obviously wanted to take a look around — without him around of course.

“Explore or don’t,” he said, truly meaning it, “the council knows who you are now, so no one will kick you out of the palace if they see you snooping around.”

“Who says I’ll be snooping?” she yawned for effect, “I was planning on getting an early night.”

This time he couldn’t help but laugh, “sure. Goodnight YN. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Her face fell.

“Don’t worry, it’s only breakfast,” he reassured her, omitting the fact that they had a meeting after breakfast. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. It was no secret that she didn’t trust him. He didn’t blame her. He was lying and he didn’t trust her either.

“Only with you?” she clarified.

“Only with me,” he echoed.

That seemed to appease her and she was about to leave when something occurred to him. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

“Can I ask you a question?”

She paused, “only if I can ask you one.”

“Fair enough,” he amended, “would you spar with me some time?”

Loki had been surprised when she’d said that she was a soldier and he was more than a little curious to know how many of her lies had been based in truth. She’d shut down all his earlier attempts at getting to know her better and he was certain she’d do her best to keep it that way. So he figured he would have to be more clever about it.

He was surprised, and pleased, when she nodded.

“I would like that.”

“Good,” he murmured, afraid that if he said anything else she might change her mind, “your turn.”

“What Lucius said about…” she didn’t finished her sentence but she didn’t have to. He knew what she was talking about.

“He likes to speak out of turn,” Loki paused, choosing his words carefully. There was no one else in the hallway, but this was information that his future queen should have already known, “some of the council members haven’t always been supportive of the fact that there was an equal chance that there could have been two kings on the throne or a king and a queen. Even if fate decided to bring you into my life, those council members still seem bitter about my personal preferences..

She nodded slowly, taking the information in. There wasn’t much other than a thoughtful expression on her face and Loki was relieved. This whole thing would have been finished if she had reacted any other way.

“Has there ever been two kings or two queens in Asgard?” she asked.

“Not yet,” he smirked, “but love is love. And in Asgard, that’s the only requirement. There’s nothing they could say or do about it.”

Her face softened and she took his hand. The gesture surprised him, even more so when she gave it a little squeeze, “as it should be. Goodnight prince.”

And then she walked off in the wrong direction.

When he pointed that out, she looked back over her shoulder, an innocent smile on her face that didn’t match the mischief in her eyes, “just taking a little detour, don’t worry about it.”

He was probably going to worry about it later, but he watched her walk away. He’d promised himself that he’d give her as much freedom as was safe for her and his realm. There was no way she’d find the Hand on her own, so he had to trust that she wasn’t really and threat and that she’d be safe after what he was about to do.

When he couldn’t hear her steps anymore, he turned back to the council room. No one reacted when he walked in.

Hela had made her move less than a moon ago, but the council had taken that opportunity whole-heartedly to remind him that he was no longer king. He was only a prince temporarily in charge of the realm, but he wasn’t going to lose his position. He refused to let his people fall into Hela’s hands. Loki had never wanted the crown, but now that he’d had it, he was going to make damn well sure that he kept it. His brother had asked for that much.

“Listen closely.”

Loki didn’t need to shout. His voice carried throughout the room, his tone reminding them that he had once been their king. And with reason. He was far more powerful than everyone in this room, even some of them combined.

“No one touches YN,” he warned, his words slow and deliberate. He found every set of eyes in the room, making sure they all felt seen, “she will be your future queen. There is no doubt about it in my mind. And she might not have a long lifespan, but I have a long memory. You will treat her with the same respect as you did my mother. You’ve been warned.”

He didn’t give them a chance to answer and walked back out of the room. Loki didn’t think any of them would go outright and kill her, but he knew enough of them were power hungry bigots to do something stupid. Thankfully, the council was still wary of him even if he wasn’t their king any more. He could rest easier knowing they’d been warned and his own court was keeping an eye on YN most of the time. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but he wasn’t going to lock her up or stop her from roaming the palace, even if it did cost him his title.  

He strode through the palace, not sure where he was heading and not sure what to do with himself. His whole body felt two sizes too small and he couldn’t shake the feeling. There were so many other things he had to do, but he couldn’t make himself decide on one. Only the thought of his bead was appealing, and even then, he was too restless to really consider it.

“I saw your queen,” Nebula said, falling into step beside him.

She was still dressed in her commanders uniform, dirt smudged over her eyebrow. She’d been sparring with the soldiers again. Not that he was surprised. She been so grumpy this morning that he pitied his army; though at least he knew they’d be prepared to face anything. There were very few things that were more terrifying than his commander when she was angry.

“Where was she?” he asked.

Nebula’s voice was clipped, her mood no better than it was this morning, “roaming the halls, looking incredibly suspicious.”

Loki threw up a magical sound bubble that would contain their voices. Knowing how suspicious it looked, he didn’t like to do it often, even if it was now the second time he’d done it today, but he knew she wasn’t about to let this go. Feeling the magic, she waited until it snapped into place.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” he said with a laugh, knowing that just because they couldn’t be heard didn’t mean they couldn’t be seen.

Nebula crossed her arms, keeping up with his long strides, “she wants the Hand, Loki.”

He waved away her worry, “it’s safe.”

“What makes you think she won’t get it?”

He shot her a look. They both knew who was guarding it. There was no way anyone was getting it — human or otherwise. His answer didn’t seem to satisfy her.

“Who says she’s not a spy?” she continued, her voice rising with irritation, “who says she’s not here for the book to give it to Hela? Who says we even have the right woman?”

Loki tried not to pinch the bridge of his nose. Nebula was right to be concerned; there was a reason he’d appointed her as commander. Still, he found himself saying with more confidence than he felt, “I wanted to know how to prevent Hela from winning over the crown and it gave me her name. She has to be the future queen.”

“Did you ever stop to consider that maybe we need to kill her and not work with her?” Nebula demanded.

The words were harsh, but valid. Yet Loki knew Nebula wouldn’t actually go through with it. As far as they knew, YN was innocent, despite wanting the Hand. And he was sure she was an ally, not an enemy. He couldn’t explain why he was so certain, but he’d decided it the moment he’d met her. However, it wasn’t like he could explain that to Nebula. She would need something far more concrete than a gut feeling.

“You’re being rash,” she continued.

He realized she was steering them toward the kitchen and his stomach growled in anticipation. He wasn’t sure how she did it, or if she was even aware she was doing it, but Nebula had a way of knowing what was best for their court, even if her harsh demeanour didn’t always make it very evident.

“Says the woman who wants to kill the future queen,” he countered.

“She wouldn’t be the future queen if you had thought things through,” she growled, stopping him a hand to his chest, “we’re walking a thing line here, Loki.”

“I know that! But I needed to present my queen today and she showed up just in time. Don’t you think there’s something to that?” Loki’s voice was rising and his control was slipping. The bubble around them almost dropped in the burst of emotion.

She poked him in the chest, but she’d lost all bite at his outburst. They were both tired and running through this blind. Arguing wouldn’t help any of them see things clearer.

“We had a backup plan,” she murmured.

“You would have been miserable as queen,” he shot her a smile, “especially that you would have to admit that you find me incredibly attractive.”

She punched him on the arm, “I’m a good liar.”

“Very true,” he laughed, “but this is the best option, Nebula. Trust me.” Loki wasn’t sure that he trusted himself, but he had to believe he was doing the right thing. And if he wasn’t, at least he knew his court was there to help with his mistakes — and to make sure he never forgot them, “and I’ll stay on my guard with YN.”

She sighed reluctantly, but finally looked convinced, “okay.”

“Okay,” he changed the subject, “what have the citizens been saying?”

“They’ll fight if it comes to war again. I tried to reassure them that nothing was wrong and that we were just gathering information, but they know something’s coming. They can feel it,” Nebula shrugged, “Hela’s arrival’s made them all uneasy.”

He nodded slowly and sighed, “better they’re wary than oblivious.”

“They’d better be wary,” Nebula said with a printed look, “you have a human for a future queen and she was stupid enough to agree to the trials. You’d better hope you were right about what that thing meant when it gave you the word YN.”

Loki could only nod and let the magic bubble drop. He was about to follow her into the kitchen when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. The hallway was empty, but he could have sworn he’d seen something. He listened closely, waiting to see if whoever it was might give themselves away.

“Are you coming?” Nebula called from the kitchen.

He heard the banging of pots and decided he’d better go inside before she decided to start cooking and accidentally set the palace on fire. With one last look around, he walked into the kitchen.

#loki #Loki Laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki x y/n #fan fiction #fanfic #marvel #reader insert

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

I don’t want to wake up from you...

For the charming @fandoms-are-my-friends-1321​.

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Mentions of blood, murder.

My best dreams and worst nightmares have the same people in them.

Philippos Syrigos

Every night, (Y/N)’s nights are plagued by nightmares. Always the same torture. She was surrounded by terrifying sights of corpses bathed in blood and human-like figures who wandered in the shadows, like predators who are waiting for their prey.

By listening to her husband Will Graham talking about his visions during his investigations, she believes that she is turning mad.

But she would never let Will being tormented by his demons. As he said, his empathetic abilities are more of a curse than a blessing. Indeed, he can enter into the twisted mind of the killer and unmask him. However, the price to pay is dreadful: his insomnia and his lack of social interactions are here to prove it.

Since they start to discuss it, she sees a slight improvement as Will begins to enjoy nights of better sleep. Even if it means that her nights would be forever terrifying, she accepts it, as long as it lets her beloved in peace. 

Of course, she often wakes with a start in the middle of the night and has difficulties coming back to sleep, but she wants to endure it for him.

But everything changes this night, and she does not see that coming. Before that, this day was pretty calm: she had a good time at her office with her colleagues, she was praised by her boss for her work, and she had a nice dinner with her husband. 

Nevertheless, when they went to sleep, the horror show began. 

Instead of being in her bedroom, she was in a horrific garden. The grass was crimson red, like blood, the flowers were dark as ebony, and the trees had disturbing shapes as if their branches had claws. Every step she takes, she heard the ground creaking as if she was walking on bones. 

Disgusted and scared by this scenery, (Y/N) moves forward while looking around her. Suddenly, she hears creepy voices that whispered:

"Where are you going like that, (Y/N)?"

"There is no way to escape, my dear..."

"Soon, you will be with us, (Y/N)"

"You can't forget us... And you won't!"

Suddenly, the branches turned into hands that try to grab her. Appalled, she managed to escape far from them while covering her ears, deafened by their pleas and screams.

She only stopped running when her legs gave up, and she nearly fell on her knees. 

Exhausted, she tried to catch her breath when another figure appeared in front of her and it was the most bloodcurdling sight she ever saw in her whole life.

The man-shaped creature stared down at her, its red eyes focused on the young woman. Its entire body was dark and firm as if it was made of wood. The antlers that adorned his head were large and crooked, like a demonic crown. 

Scared to death, (Y/N) recognized the monster who plagued Will's nights for a long time: "The Wendigo..."

Pleased to hear his name said by a shivering voice, the creature smiled, revealing sharp white teeth.

Totally paralyzed by fear, (Y/N) noticed that the monster held something in his large hand. Something familiar...

Will feels something hitting his back, and he wakes up. Turning around, he sees his wife, who tossed and turned in her sleep. The expression of pure terror on her face makes him worry, and he tries to wake her up.

"(Y/N), babe, wake up!"

Suddenly, she screams at the top of her lungs. A wail of pure terror and sadness that sends chills down his spine. What can make her yelling like that? And why does she calls out his name with such despair?

The young woman stared in horror as the Wendigo shows what he holds in his hand: a head. A human head. A severed human head. Will's severed head. Crying and yelling, she cannot believe what she just saw:

"NO, WILL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

The Wendigo was content with laughing while holding his prey's head as a trophy. (Y/N) cannot stop looking at the head of her significant other. She tried to reach him, but her whole body prevented her from doing so. 

Suddenly, she hears Will's voice telling her:

"(Y/N)! (Y/N)! Please, wake up! I'm here! WAKE UP!"

She gasps for air as she wakes up. 

Immediately, she feels the arms of her husband that surround her in a reassuring embrace.

"Hush, sweetheart, it's okay. You're safe, right now! Nothing can happen, I am here!"

(Y/N) realizes that she is in her bedroom, in her home, with Will holding her tight against him. Relieved, she lets out a sob before trying to calm herself.

"Oh my god, it seems so real!"

"That's what I saw."

He frowned.

"How long have you been haunted by nightmares?"

"I don't know, really. It seems like an eternity."

His eyes go wide open.

"This long? But why did not you tell me before? I can help you!"

"I know, but..."

"But?" he asked.

His wife sighed before explaining:

"When we met, you've been plagued by your nightmares for a long time, and I thought that if we talk about it, you will feel better. But I wasn't ready to live what you've been through. The only thing that keeps me from telling you is that you were in better shape now, so I have to endure it for your sake."

Will is flabbergasted: she endured all these sleepless nights just for him? To help him? God, he does not deserve to be her husband. With a slight smile, he cups her face between his hands.

"(Y/N), since the first day you accepted to be with me, my nights were less sinister. Every time something terrible happened in my dreams, I reach you and feel your skin to remind me that there is nothing to be afraid of, as long as I have you by my side."

He gently kissed her cheek.

"Don't make the same mistake as I did: if something bothers you, please, tell me. And I'll be here for you, like you’ve been here for me."

The young woman smiles, awed by the devotion of her beloved.

"Thank you, Will."

"Anything for you, my darling. Now, let's go back to sleep. Tomorrow, we'll see what to do."

They both lay down, hugging each other. Before she falls asleep, she mutters:

"I love you, Will."

"I love you too, (Y/N)."

And after that, the night went smooth, and (Y/N) finally enjoys a beautiful night because she knows that Will is always there to protect her.

Bonus scene:

While waiting for her turn, (Y/N) looks at the elegant waiting room. She wakes up from her daydream as the door opens and Doctor Hannibal Lecter makes his entrance.

"Good morning, (Y/N). I did not expect your visit."

"Good morning, Doctor Lecter."

"You're allowed to call me Hannibal. However, could you please explain me what's the purpose of your visit?"

"Well, I think you can help me... since I have the same problem as Will."

The psychiatrist raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, I am sorry about it. Will told me that you were trying to help him with his own nightmares. It looks like your kindness was not well-rewarded."

"Will suggests me to see you, as you are a great help for him."

"I am flattered."

He gestures her to enter.

"But please, come in. I have a lot of time, which would be very helpful in your case."

She steps into his office, and sits politely on the couch, while he sits on the armchair in front of her.

"Now, (Y/N), tell me about your nightmares..."

#requests #hannibal nbc #will graham #hugh dancy #gal gadot

[mostfacinorous]

Stoki Whumptober Day 30: Now where did that come from?  (sorry it’s so late! I made it long to help make up for it.) [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9][10][11][12][13][14][15][16][17][18][19][20][21][22][23][24][25][26][27][28][29]

Steve stayed abed for three days-- the longest, Loki was told, and by him no less,  that he’d ever followed orders to relax for, and then only because Loki came down to spend the time with him. 

If the other Avengers found this odd, they did not say as much to either Loki or Steve, and if they would have preferred their time alone with Steve during their visits, Loki would have been quick to go-- save that none asked. 

And so, over the course of three days, he found himself in a myriad of odd social interactions with people he’d tried to kill or manipulate, and was surprised at how… simple it was. Easy. 

There was some tension still, of course; none of them would pretend there wasn’t. However, the suspicion he’d expected, the derision or outright hatred? That was nowhere to be found. They were cautious, but varying levels of polite. 

The widow was witty and interesting to talk to. She challenged him to a game of chess that he very much looked forward to, and Steve joked again about their combined likelihood of wrecking the rest of the team in any competition due to unfair mental advantage. 

Barton came to visit, bringing pizza with him, and they broke bread and had beer, and while he was a touch skittish, it seemed that Steve’s presence had a calming effect on both he and Loki. 

Banner came to check on Steve with his own medical knowledge, and to be certain that nothing was going awry, no bones mending improperly or anything. Not, he insisted, that he doubted Loki’s knowledge, but simply for his own peace of mind. 

He and Loki and Steve had ended up discussing differing medical techniques from each of their own homes- Steve’s being so far in the past that half of it was forgotten, like, apparently, telling asthmatics to smoke for the good of their lungs, and forcing anemics to eat large helpings of offal to help their iron levels. In addition, Loki learned that Steve’s mother was a healer in his youth, which, Loki thought, explained much of his urge to help others and save those who needed saving.

Loki was more familiar with herbal and magical remedies, and though Banner insisted repeatedly that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, his knowledge of modern science based medical practices was fairly impressive. 

And while clearly they all wondered where this was going, only Stark and Barnes were so bold as to ask directly. 

Separately, of course, but with an amusingly similar lack of tact. 

“So uh-- you guys hooked up on your little time adventure?” Stark asked, during a lull in his questions about the power outage and its cause. Loki would have spluttered had he not been trained in how to hide responses from years in court. 

Steve on the other hand, had been in the process of drinking, and he genuinely choked on the water in his mouth. 

Loki was up in an instant, patting him on the back and glaring at Stark, who raised his hands defensively. 

“Just saying, you come back and you can’t seem to get enough of one another. You can’t blame a guy for wondering.”

“We did not hook up, we nearly died, repeatedly!” Steve protested, his face glowing red under the scrutiny.

“So that’s a no?” Stark asked, looking to Loki for confirmation.

“Stark, our lack of sex lives is really none of your concern. I care for the Captain, which I think is your real question. Beyond that-- we shall see.” Loki glanced at Steve to make sure he hadn’t overstepped, and found such adoration on his face that for a moment, it took Loki’s breath away. 

“Oh. Yeah, well, alright.” Stark seemed taken aback, but recovered quickly. “I feel like I should… you know, give you a minute.” He got up and made his way to the door, and Loki followed him.

“I promise you, Stark, he is in good hands.” Loki said softly. 

Stark shook his head. “I don’t doubt it. And call me Tony. Have you talked to your brother?” 

Loki looked away. “I do not imagine he would take so kindly to this news.” Loki hedged, speaking softer still. “And I do not believe he wishes to see me.”

Tony shrugged. “I get it. I won’t say anything. But it might be worth seeing if you can fix the family drama. Family’s kinda important to Steve, after all-- I imagine he’ll want you to try, too.”

Loki felt a wave of anxious nausea hit him at that, but he just nodded and closed the door behind Stark. 

He hadn’t even made it back to Steve’s room when the next knock came, and Barnes let himself in shortly after, not waiting for Loki to answer. 

Barnes looked Loki up and down, crossed his arms, and met his eyes dead on. 

“You and Stevie an item now?” He asked, point blank.

Loki sighed. 

“Your people have so many ways to ask this question. I care for him a great deal, yes.” 

“Buck? Stop harassing my guy and get in here.” Steve called from the other room, and that was that. 

Barnes was far more interested in the stone, and the stories of the effects of it that Loki had suffered. 

He seemed, grudgingly, to accept that long jumps were a bad idea, and that something like remaking his past was… perhaps not the greatest of plans. Especially given that he was closer to whatever Steve was than what Loki was, and he couldn’t handle it near so well. 

He left, with much to mull over, and Loki relaxed into the idea that the stone might, at last, be safe.

---

At length, even Loki had to admit that Steve was well again. He healed fast and he needed no more rest-- he was back at the top of his abilities. 

Which meant it was time to have their conversation, despite having had parts of it through others. 

“So. You care for me, huh?” Steve asked, grinning. 

Loki felt his anxiousness bubbling rapidly to a boil within him. 

“I should hope that was fairly obvious.” He said quietly, carefully not looking Steve in the eye. 

“It is. It’s just nice to hear.” Steve assured him. “Because I feel the same.” 

Loki smiled and looked up, then.

“So, where does that leave us?” 

“Not enemies, I hope.” Steve started, and Loki laughed. 

“No, hardly that.”

“Would you consider-- in my time, we called it going steady. Now I guess it’s just… dating?”

“Is that the same as courtship?” 

Steve flushed at that, and Loki smirked a little, charmed. 

“Yeah, uh, I guess it’s similar.” 

“Good. Then I would like to declare my intent to court you, Steve Rogers. If you’ll have me.” 

“Oh, uh yeah. I don’t… know what courtship entails, but yeah, I’ll have you. And um, if you’ll show me how, I want to do the same. Court you, I mean.” Steve was adorably flustered, and it made Loki feel a little steadier on his feet. He stepped forward and took Steve’s hand. 

“On Asgard, it’s gifts. Treasures and prizes won, deeds done in your name. It’s a matter of proving oneself worthy of the person they love, and making their partner feel wanted and adored.” 

“Oh.” Steve said quietly. “That’s uh, nice, but you don’t have to buy me gifts.” 

Loki tilted his head, then nodded. 

“I’ll prove myself in deeds, then. And to that end, I would invite you to consider me, if not part of your team, at least at your disposal, if I can be of help in any matter that affects you or your friends.” Loki paused, then added,  “So long as it doesn’t involve my using the damned timestone again.” 

Steve cracked a smile at that, though he looked like he was thinking very hard. 

“Is there anything in particular that you can think of you’d like from me?” He asked, sounding the most timid that Loki thought he’d been for this entire conversation. 

Loki squeezed his hands reassuringly and lifted a finger to his lips in a pretense of thinking. “Hmm.” He said. “I can think of one thing, right now.” 

Steve seemed to perk up a bit at that, endearingly eager to please. 

“What’s that?” He asked. 

“Kiss me?” Loki responded, trying not to feel too shy or embarrassed for asking. 

However, Steve seemed entirely happy to oblige. 

It was a little clumsy, as if Steve had had little experience, but that was hardly a problem; by the time they pulled apart, Loki was panting a little and Steve had turned an incredibly fetching shade of pink. 

They rested their foreheads together for a moment and just held one another.

It was an altogether perfect start.

--

And so it was that, a day or two later, when the Avengers were called out to do some world saving mission, Loki found himself following Steve to board the quinjet and report for duty. 

He was stopped, though, with a powerful grip on his shoulder holding him back. 

He turned to find himself face to face with Thor, and swallowed. 

He’d been so happy with Steve, he had fully forgotten his once-brother was still on Midgard. 

“Thor.” He greeted, cautiously but trying for politeness.

“Whatever this game is, abandon it now and return to whatever cave you crawled from.” Thor was stern and his voice thunderous with threats unspoken. 

“Thor.” Steve’s, on the other hand, was commanding, and Loki looked up to see him at the top of the steps, one hand on the body of the quinjet. “Loki offered to help us. Same as you. Don’t endanger the team with your drama. That stays here, or you do.” 

“I?” Thor asked, shocked that he should be benched in a competition between he and Loki. 

It made butterflies flit through Loki’s stomach. 

“You’re the only one who seems to have a problem with working with him.” Steve said simply, and Loki realized that was true. Even Barton seemed to be coming around; albeit on his own time.

Thor, clearly annoyed, brushed past Loki to board the quinjet, stopping beside Steve to drop a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“I hope,” Thor said lowly, “That you know what you are doing. Not everyone deserves redemption.” 

Steve turned his head to look him square in the eye. “Everyone who wants redemption should be allowed to claim it.” Steve said, loudly enough for it to carry to both Loki and everyone inside. 

Thor shook his head, but entered the plane with no further words, and Steve deplaned to take Loki’s hand in his. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly. 

In honesty, Loki was shaking. But he pushed it down and refused to let Steve know how affected he was. He didn’t want to be left behind for it. “I am. Let’s go save your people.” He squeezed Steve’s hand, then dropped it to board their transport. 

--

It was a fast ship, as fast if not faster than an Asgardian vessel, and it landed them at their destination less than two hours after they left. 

“We’re about an hour outside of Lakhimpur, near the Ghaghara river.” The widow explained. “There are reports that SHIELD vehicles have been spotted around here-- Fury, however, didn’t send them, and doesn’t have any record of missing assets, which means we’re probably dealing with Hydra. And, it seems they are taking hostages, mostly in the medtech field. We’re going to find them, free them, and put a stop to whatever Hydra’s doing. And, on the off chance it has anything to do with samples they took from Steve…” She trailed off and looked from Loki to Barnes, “We have two experts on destroying that present.” 

“Thanks, Nat.” Steve said, standing up. “We’re not too concerned about being quiet. I don’t want any innocent deaths, if we can avoid it, and no harming any landmarks, if they’ve taken over anything that might be culturally important. This isn’t our country, let’s be respectful. Everything else, though? Anything that Hydra is proud of? I wanna see it go up in smoke.” 

There was a shared expression of pleasure at that, and Loki noted that Thor was, again, staring at him. He kept his eyes on Steve. 

“Okay, so, we’ve got sightings on this road here,” Steve pointed on the map,”that leads into the trees. Locals who have tried to see where they go have not returned. My thought is to stage an ambush, steal a vehicle, work our way into the compound in disguise, and destroy them from the inside out. But, we could use a distraction, to get everyone scurrying. So, once we have the car, I want Tony and Thor overhead to give them something to focus on and something to fight. Stay out of range if possible, but draw their attention away from us on the ground while we get the lay of the land.” 

Tony and Thor nodded. 

“Bruce, Nat, Clint, you three are together once we get inside. I want you to get to the medical labs. Nat, get whatever you can off of their machines, and then wipe them, as fast as possible. You three have some Hindu and some Urdu between you, so you should be able to talk to the hostages. I want you to head up evac for the civilians. Loki, Bucky and I will handle the higher ups. And then on my signal, Tony, Thor, Bruce, feel free to tear it to the ground.”

“I like this plan.” Tony said, intentionally overly chipper, and there were scattered nods throughout the ship. 

--

The plan went mostly as it was laid out. They took down the soldiers in the car and climbed aboard, Barton, Bruce, and Natasha donning their clothing and Steve, Loki, and Bucky hiding in the back. 

Loki could hear the sounds of thunder just as they crossed the bridge that led up to the building their car had been headed towards, and the distracted Hydra guards let them in in a hurry. 

Once parked, they split up to see to their assigned tasks. 

Loki used his trick of diverting the eyes of onlookers, so that Steve, Bucky and he were all but invisible. They made their way deeper and higher up in the building, watching where the more decorated soldiers emerged from, and following that path. 

The first problem arose when it became clear that some of the civilians were being held here, close to the officers, and not down with the others that Natasha, Bruce, and Barton were meant to be getting out. 

“I’ll take them.” Barnes offered, once he’d broken the neck of one of the men guarding the cell, and Loki had buried a knife in the throat of the other. 

Loki was quick to agree; though he had the Allspeak, he was loathe to leave Steve on his own, particularly after what a similar group had done to him. 

So he spoke to the people inside, learned that they were the missing doctors, and told them that he was here with the Avengers, and the man with the metal arm would be leading them to safety. 

“Just get them down to the other group, if you can-- I don’t want you trying to take them all out on your own. Meet up and help the others, so you have someone on your six.”

Barnes snapped off a sarcastic looking little salute. 

“Yes sir, captain sir.” Barnes said, and Steve huffed and rolled his eyes, but smiled. 

“How long have you known him?” Loki asked as they continued moving deeper into the Hydra hold. 

“My whole life, really, save the part where we were on ice or brainwashed, respectively.” 

Loki shook his head. 

“It is a strange life you’ve led, my captain. Stranger than most.” 

They found the room that was home to those in a position of command, and found them all on phones or huddled around visual feeds of Thor and Tony, raining down annoyance on them from above. 

“But why?” One was saying. “They could be destroying us, why are they toying with us?” 

“Because,” Said one man, who looked distinctly unlike the rest. Something about him reminded Loki of Barnes, when they’d first met. He was standing very straight, coiled and ready to spring, and he all but vibrated with barely contained power. Most importantly, he was looking directly at Steve and Loki. “Their friends are inside.” 

Loki darted forward, immediately placing himself between the man and Steve, which proved to be a good decision. The man pulled out a throwing knife and Loki caught it, reversing it and throwing it back towards him. It landed, and he pulled it from his shoulder and let it fall to the ground as if it was no more bothersome than a fly.

“Steve, take care of the rest, they still have a hard time seeing you!” Loki instructed, squaring off against this one.

The man lunged forward, one hand still holding a knife, which he brought up and under Loki’s ribs, but Loki blocked it-- the blade bouncing harmlessly off of his bracer. The man’s other hand was empty but the fist that made contact with the side of Loki’s head may as well have been concrete. 

Loki’s vision blacked out briefly, and he felt himself get stabbed in the side, but it didn’t seem to have done much damage. When he could see properly again, he wrested the knife free of the man and caught his arms in Loki’s own, turning it into a test of sheer strength. 

And the man was strong-- stronger than a run of the mill human. 

“He’s been modified!” Loki yelled for Steve’s benefit, the words coming out strained as he spoke through his teeth. 

“I understand I have you to thank!” the man told Loki. “You left him, and they made me from part of him.” 

Loki snarled and took the man’s legs out from under him, landing neatly atop his chest and pinning his arms with Loki’s knees. 

“Shame it took you so long to find us; there’re dozens of men like me, now. Cut off one head--” 

Loki felt another body crash into his back, but he stayed focused on the man beneath him. Loki summoned another of his knives-- the longer ones for close range fights, this time-- and slid it home through his trachea. 

The man fell back and was no more. 

Loki turned his attention, then, to the body that had fallen on him-- it was not Steve, which was all that mattered. 

He found Steve at a bank of computers, holding a dead man’s hand to a fingerprint reader. 

“A good trick.” Loki commented, as he sidled up to him. “I’m afraid I have some bad news, though.” He said, nodding at the man he’d taken out. “It seems we did not get every sample.” 

Steve set his jaw. 

“Yeah, I’m seeing that. Jesus-- there’s four of them here. We have to warn the others.” 

Loki nodded, and watched as Steve inserted a drive into the computer, which then went to work, downloading files and leaving its own behind. 

Loki used the communications device he’d been given. 

“In case you’ve not run into them yet, there are soldiers as strong as Steve here. Three of them, at least.” 

“Fuck!” he heard from Barton, and Steve shook his head but got the drive removed as all of the screens around him began to malfunction. 

“Buck, you with the main group?” 

“I’m here, the civilians have all been rounded up, according to them we got everyone. On our way out to the car now.” 

“Great.” Steve answered. 

“Bruce, you wanna go join Tony and Thor, maybe get a little green?” 

“On it.” 

“As soon as everyone’s clear, I want this place reduced to rubble.” 

Steve said over the intercom, before cutting his mic. 

“Then let’s get ourselves out of here.” Loki said. “Here, I’ll lead-- just in case they send more of those soldiers our way. I can put up a shield that covers more than yours.”

Steve smiled. 

“Real glad you’re on our side, now.” He told Loki shortly, and dropped a quick peck to his lips. “Let’s go.” 

Loki did as he said he would, erecting a shield and leading them to safety. They did not encounter the advanced soldiers, which he considered a mixed blessing, and by the time they gained the outside of the compound, the Hydra troops were attempting to fall back. 

They let them, checked in with Natasha, and gave the destruction crew the all clear. 

Without a car, and with the Quinjet parked on the other side of the wooded area, that meant they were on foot. But at least the company was pleasant, and the enemy was distracted. 

“Not bad for a first outing.” Steve said, but his attempt at joviality sounded pinched. 

“We will find the rest of these advanced soldiers.” Loki promised him, guessing at what was bothering him.

“Yeah, we’re going to have to.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, still looking distressed, and Loki reached out for him, taking his hand and marveling again at the warmth of him, and how well they fit together. 

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could see it in the slant of Steve’s shoulders. He leaned in and kissed him, really kissed him, this time, no quick mid-battle peck, and Steve pulled him in close. 

When they broke apart, Loki was light headed, and Steve was looking besotted. He reached up to push some of Loki’s hair behind his ear, and froze. 

Steve stumbled backwards, and Loki saw why: his hand was covered in blood. 

Loki twisted and twitched aside the cape that was sticking to his side, only to see the knife wound he’d forgotten about earlier. 

“Ah.” He said. 

The lightheadedness, it turned out, was perhaps at least partially due to blood loss. 

“I’ll be fine,” he assured Steve, pressing his hand to his own side with the bloody cape to put pressure on the wound. 

And then, from the trees, the three missing soldier attacked, as if they had smelled his weakness. 

“Awh, shit.” Loki heard Steve say, just before something was shoved over his head, and he was knocked unconscious.

#Stoki Whumptober2020 #Stoki #Frostshield #capfrost #steveloki #steve/loki #stevexloki #lokisteve #loki x steve #loki/steve #mcu fanfic #whumptober #That Writing Thing I do

[ibijau]

Worst engagement AU // on AO3

set early-ish during nhs’s first year in the Cloud Recesses

It takes a while to get used to life in the Cloud Recesses, but it's not so bad. Nie Huaisang kinds of like it. Sure the lessons are hell, the food is atrocious, he still hasn't made a single friend, the other Nie disciples are all two or three years older than him so they don't care much about him, and Lan Xichen makes special efforts to show he ignores him, but… 

But at least the scenery is nice. 

Not that Nie Huaisang is really supposed to enjoy the scenery of course. Lan Qiren always gave a lot of extra materials for his students to work with as a rule. And then, once he noticed that Nie Huaisang struggled in class, he gave him extra extra materials. It's a nightmare, especially since Nie Huaisang kind of fails to understand those as well, even though they're supposed to help him.

It is so tempting to give up. Nie Huaisang knows whether he tries to study or not, the result is always going to be roughly the same. He could slip poetry books inside his courtesy rules, he could practice calligraphy instead of copying talismans, he could skip sword practice and go out in the mountains and be alone and paint. He doesn’t. He tries hard to be as good as everyone wants him to be, and all he gets in return is scolding because, apparently, his best just isn’t enough.

Two months into his stay in the Cloud Recesses, Nie Huaisang gives in to temptation.

It’s been an awful morning, after an awful week. He’s failed his latest test, so badly that Lan Qiren had a one-on-one talk with him saying he has to do better because he’s shaming his sect. And then he crossed path with Lan Xichen who couldn’t avoid saying hello to him and looked at him as if his very existence were a personal insult.

They’re supposed to have sword practice that afternoon, but Nie Huaisang decides he’s not going. Instead after lunch he grabs an inkstone, some paper, his favourite brush, and heads away into the wild.

It feels like forever since the last time he did this. It's been impossible in the Cloud Recesses, and before that there was his father's long illness of course. It's so good to be free and just wander on a mostly unused path. After walking for a while, Nie Huaisang notices a barely visible trail going to the side of the path and into the woods, so he decides to follow that on a whim. It feels like a trail created by someone not infrequently going that way, so there might be something worth checking out.

The trail leads him up to a small clearing which feels a little underwhelming for how much he's had to walk. But that sentiment only until he sees them. 

Rabbits. 

A whole little family of them, coming out of their burrow in the late afternoon light. Nie Huaisang nearly squeals at the sight, barely stopping himself in time. The last thing he wants is to scare them when he's clearly intruding in their home. 

Instead, Nie Huaisang carefully sits down at a respectful distance, lays some paper in front of him, prepares some ink and gets painting. 

He doesn't get very far (there's only one rabbit on the page when he's planning four) before a presence makes him look up. 

Nie Huaisang gasps, so startled to find Lan Xichen looking down at him that he drops his brush, ruining his work. He braces himself for a scolding, or at least a cutting remark, but none comes even though Lan Xichen looks impossibly upset.

Too upset, in fact. It’s odd to see his fiancé without that annoying polite smile of his, but that’s because it’s not actually Lan Xichen at all.

In all the time of his engagement to Lan Xichen, Nie Huaisang has never really had much reason to interact with Lan Wangji. He’s not particularly tried to, if he’s honest. It’s bad enough to be engaged to someone everyone agrees is the most attractive boy in their entire generation, and the most accomplished, with the best cultivation, and is the most perfect in every aspect. No, there has to be a second one, who is at least as accomplished as the first, a little less charmingly polite but apparently promising to have even better cultivation. 

It’s not that Nie Huaisang hates his fiancé’s little brother, he has no reason to when they’ve never really even talked but… well, maybe he does hate him a bit, and envies him a lot. Everything seems to come so easily to these Lan brothers, it’s so unfair.

What’s unfair as well is being found by Lan Wangji in this place that’s so far from everything. For once Nie Huaisang was finally having some fun after all. And sure, he knew all along that his little escapade would end up in him getting punished for skipping sword practice, but it would have been nice to get a little more free time before that. Only, Lan Wangji is well known among all guest disciples for being, to put it bluntly, a snitch, so that’s it for Nie Huaisang’s little adventure.

Or at least, it should be.

To Nie Huaisang’s surprise, Lan Wangji doesn’t order him back into the Cloud Recesses, doesn’t tell him he’s going to get punished. Instead he steps closer, and inspects Nie Huaisang’s ruined painting with a critical expression. He doesn’t seem particularly impressed, though in all fairness, it might just be that his face is naturally like that.

Then, still without a word, Lan Wangji walks past Nie Huaisang and goes to sit on the ground a little further. His posture is as proper as if he were having tea with his uncle. His attention, Nie Huaisang quickly realises, is entirely on the family of rabbits. After a moment, one of the kits hops over another, a little clumsily, and Nie Huaisang swears a faint smile appears on Lan Wangji’s lips, just barely visible.

It’s kind of cute, really. Nie Huaisang wouldn’t have expected the cold brother of his frigid fiancé to have that sort of a sweet side to him. Discovering that Lan Wangji, perfect Lan Wangji who keeps being given as an example of what a second master of a major sect should be, amazing Lan Wangji who is everything that every Gusu Lan disciple strives to be, can still have that sort of secret… it gives Nie Huaisang hope.

The Cloud Recesses are going to take so much from him someday. He’s going to love his home, the places he knows around the Unclean Realm, the knowledge of which Qinghe streets have the best candies and sweets, the birds he loves so much, and he’s not going to get anything in exchange except the misery of being looked down upon by Lan Xichen for the rest of his life. Nie Huaisang is going to lose everything when he marries and in the last two months he’s started crying about that again.

But Lan Wangji is here, watching rabbits.

Nie Huaisang can’t say for sure, but it’s pretty likely that his future brother-in-law, just like him, isn’t supposed to be here. Even a person like Lan Wangji can bend the rules. And come to think of it, perfect Lan Xichen too isn’t always absolutely perfect. After all, he’s pretty mean, and Nie Huaisang, who has copied the rules of Gusu Lan until his wrist ached, knows that his fiancé should strive for kindness, especially with his inferiors, which Nie Huaisang is. There’s also Lan Qiren who never even looked for a cultivation partner, even though he should have, to secure an alliance for his sect, so that’s selfish. And that’s without getting into the situation with Sect Leader Lan.

The Cloud Recesses are going to take a lot from him, but they won’t take everything. If he tries hard, if he’s discreet enough, if he hides properly like Lan Wangji seems to do, he can keep a little spark of himself alive.

The thought is almost enough to make Nie Huaisang cry, but for once it’s from happiness.

Ultimately, he manages to stop the tears before they can start falling. He is not, as a rule, a quiet crier, and he doesn’t want to risk startling the rabbits, or being noticed by Lan Wangji. Instead, he picks up his brush, grabs a new sheet of paper, and gets back to work. A long while passes, and it starts getting dark around them. Lan Wangji is the one to get up first. Nie Huaisang half expects him to leave alone, but instead the younger boy comes to stand at his side and just waits for him to put a finishing touch to his last painting.

They go down the mountain together, without saying a word. It’s hard to say for sure, but they've probably missed the bell for dinner, and they’re going to be scolded for sure. Nie Huaisang feels awful anxious about that, but seeing Lan Wangji so calm and collected helps. Punishment is the price to pay to keep a little it of who they are, he figures.

Just as they are about to enter the dining halls, Nie Huaisang grabs all the courage he has, and pulls on Lan Wangji’s sleeve to stop him. The younger boy throws him a puzzled look, but still doesn’t say anything.

He does gasp lightly when Nie Huaisang hands him one of the paintings he did that afternoon. It has the whole rabbit family on it, as they were when they laid down a moment in the last rays of sun, lazily munching on grass.

“For… for days when you can’t go up there,” Nie Huaisang mumbles.

For letting me know I don’t have to give up on everything, he doesn’t add, because he’s not sure Lan Wangji would understand what he means. Even if he escapes to go see rabbits, Lan Wangji has never seemed unhappy with his life, so it’s unlikely he’d get how Nie Huaisang feels.

“Thank you,” Lan Wangji says, as formal as if he’d received a gift from the emperor himself. “I will take care of it.”

It’s too polite, really, and Nie Huaisang grins nervously. It’s not even that good of a painting, if he’s honest. It’s the best one he’s done in a while, sure, but Nie Huaisang knows that the Lan Jades excel at all arts too, so his little doodles just don’t compare.

Still, it’s nice that for once, something of his is appreciated. It’s just too bad that it’s the wrong brother making the effort of being this kind to him.

#xisang #nie huaisang #lan wangji #mo dao zu shi #I live for nhs and lwj getting along in a way that's specific to them and that maybe others don't get #their friendship is my second mdzs agenda #jau writes #worst engagement au

[cactusstree]

1994 v.s. 2019: My Thoughts On The New Little Women Adaptation

Before I start, I would like to say this is a VERY biased review, it is not meant to be objective. I have always loved the 1994 Little Women, and I definitely went into the theater knowing that I would still prefer it. I absolutely enjoyed the new adaptation and I’m sure I will be watching it again in the future, but there are certain things that I feel just can’t be changed about the original.

Jo March

Going into the theater, i had low expectations of Saorise's portrayl of Jo simply because i think Winona Ryder cannot be beat. I still prefer Winona, but i was pleasantly surprised with Saorise. I felt Saorise really captured Jo's tomboyish personality, when I was afraid she would not. I was happy to see Jo's masculine costuming; it seems Gerwig was able to "get away" with more gender nonconformity than the first movie could.

Jo March+ Laurie

In terms of Jo and Laurie's relationship, I have mixed feelings. In the 1994 version, it seemed as though Jo was certain in her feelings towards Laurie. Although it pained her to lose a dear friendship, she never really regretted it besides "I shouldn't turn down perfectly good marriage proposals." In 2019, however, Jo seemed much more indecisive after the two characters argument after Meg's wedding. It appeared that she may actually love Laurie romantically. I felt this was inconsistent, especially because 2019 Jo was much more aggressive in her first refusal, even to the extent that I was hoping Gerwig might actually allow Jo to be a lesbian (as we all know she is). Jo even said something along the lines of "I wish I had those feelings towards you but I don't," which is what got my hopes up.

Personally, I have always felt that Jo made the correct decision in turning down Laurie, as I picture their relationship to be more similar to brother and sister.

Jo March+ Friedrich

I have to say I was very disappointed with this movie's Friedrich. While of course I would prefer that Jo end up independent, we all know that is not going to happen. Therefore, I want her to end up with her intellectual equal, and someone who genuinely cares about her. In 1994, it is firmly established that Friedrich is dirt poor, and has many similar interests to Jo. On the other hand, 2019 only hints at Friedrich's poverty, and makes little to no effort in making him a lovable character; there are only a few interactions shown between him and Jo, and none of them really struck me as anything special. For instance, 2019 Friedrich offers Jo a set of Shakespeare's complete works, and while this is certainly a kind gesture, it doesn't really showthat they have much in common besides a love of literature. In 1994, Friedrich and Jo have an entire conversation about trancendentalism, not only establishing that they have more specific interests in common, but also showing that Jo's parents, while poor, are deeply involved in political and intellectual movements.

I really missed the tender 1994 moment where Friedrich invites Jo to an opera, which we know she has always wanted to attend, and they kiss in the "worst" seat in the theater. Friedrich was not able to afford nice seats, but he wanted Jo to have the opera experience, as he knew she would love it. In 2019, Friedrich simply observes Jo enjoying the opera while he sits in a nice seat and she stands, once again not really establishing any sort of connection between the two.

1994 Friedrich's criticisms of Jo's writing seem genuine. They come from a place of "you are talented and you write entertaining stories, but they don't seem to really come from your heart." Of course, Jo is offended at first but she comes to realize that she needs to write about her family, not just adventure stories. Therefore, Friedrich's criticisms are actually constructive and help Jo along her path. 2019 Friedrich really only says "I don't like it" which doesn't help Jo at all, and then it seems like she had to humble herself and stop being offended? Once again, this doesn't make any sense. Jo had every right to be offended when this man she barely knows starts criticising her life's work with no helpful suggestions. I felt that tension was never really resolved.

And of course, Jo and Friedrich's final scene where they kiss in the rain will always hold a special place in my heart. I love the 1994 version of course because it's simply beautiful. I love the fact that two of them are alone in the rain on the pathway leaving Orchard house. I didn't really enjoy the train station setting as much because it felt less special, especially when they're surrounded by people. Also, the 2019 version just quickly went over one of my favorite moments, when Friedrich says "I have nothing to give you, my hands are empty" (which of course in more powerful in 1994 because of how strongly Friedrich's poverty is established) and Jo responds by holding his hands and saying "not empty now."

This moment was included in 2019, but it didn't feel as special to me.

I think Gerwig tried to make up for Friedrich's characterization by showing that LM Alcott would prefer that Jo ended up a spinster, but I just don't think this was the right way to go. Like I said, I would like Jo to be independent as well, but if she does end up with a man I would like to feel happy for her. Gerwig's juxtaposition between Alcott getting her book published and Jo's moment with Friedrich was clever, but it took me out of the moment and made the last few scenes much less enjoyable.

Marmee

I felt 2019 focused much less on Marmee, which was disappointing to me. That isn't to say Laura Dern did a poor job, just that I have a closer connection to Susan Sarandon. There were several more scenes in 1994 that included Marmee, so I think the audience has more time to become attatched to her. Also, I didn't like that there were a few sarcastic quips between Marmee and the father (such as when father March jokes that he should move to California? I just didn't quite get that).

Mr. Laurence

Something I will say I prefer about 2019 is the emphasis on Mr. Laurence. I LOVED seeing his close friendship with Beth, especially the scene where he listens to her play the piano in his home, and later when he and Jo enter Orchard House together after Beth's death. I felt his inclusion helped Beth seem more significant.

Chronology

While I understand what Gerwig was trying to do with the way she ordered the scenes, I think chronological order is the best way to go. I liked that 2019 ordering was able to make some interesting parallels between the girl's childhood and young adulthood, such as Beth's first and last illnesses, Amy's relationship with Laurie, Jo's childhood at Orchard House and her later return. The problem I have, however, is that the constant scene switching made it more difficult to connect with the characters. One of the reasons we as an audience care so much about the girl's adulthood is because we saw them being foolish, we saw the way they care for one another, etc. This is especially apparent in Laurie's character, because he's kind of an asshole in young adulthood. In 1994, we put up with that because he is so charming in the first half of the movie. In 2019, not much is convincing me that I like Laurie as a character until we're further into the movie. It also took away from the audience's view of Beth. In 1994, we are relieved that she survives the first wave of scarlet fever, and that relief makes her later death more powerful. In 2019, her first and second waves of illness are depicted simultaneously, which makes it difficult for the audience to calm down. For me, this just meant a full ten minutes of tears streaming down my face, I never got a break!

Amy

Listen, I loved Florence Pugh as Amy, but I really really wish they had a younger actress to depict her as a child. I don't mean this as an insult towards Pugh, because I think she did a wonderful job, it was just incredibly difficult for me to believe she was the youngest child during their childhood scenes.

Amy+ Laurie

I have never really loved that Amy and Laurie ended up together, but their 2019 relationship felt even less resolved than 1994. One of the things that helped their 1994 relationship is the moment where Amy is being sent away due to Beth's illness and she laments (in her overdramatic fashion) to Laurie that she has never been kissed. Laurie promises her that he will kiss her before she dies. This sets up a potential for their romantic relationship, and establishes that they both care for one another. In 2019, it isn't really confirmed that Laurie cares for Amy more that her sister. In 1994, Laurie and Amy have a full conversation about how Amy doesn't want to be loved for her family, but rather for being herself, Larie then has to get his act straight and prove to her that he really does love her for who she is. In 2019, they have this same conversation but it never felt completed. It seemed like Amy just gave in, especially because she was so distraught about her sister's death. I will say that I loved 2019 Amy's moment where she explains marriage is very much an economic agreement for women, as I feel that was important to acknowlege in their time period.

1994 Jo's reaction to their marriage also felt like more of a resolution. She seems genuinely happy for them. That isn't to say that 2019 Jo isn't happy for them either, but she is clearly more upset and hasn't finished moving on.

Cineamatography

It is difficult for me to compare 1994 and 2019 in this aspect, as I genuinely loved both. I think 1994 focused more on details and domestic scenery, whereas 2019's landscape shots were more impressive. For instance, I loved that Gerwig included a scene at the beach because it was simply beautiful, and gave the audience something new to look at. The ice skating scenes and the scene right after Meg's wedding were really lovely in my opinion. However, I vastly prefer 1994's depiction of Orchard House. It just seems so much more inviting to me.

(I can't find a good picture of 2019 Orchard House, though I have heard it is more closely modeled to LM Alcott's actual home, so that is something, I just didn't really like it)

I thought these scenes were beautifully framed, I loved it!

Costuming

I absolutely loved the costuming in 2019, especially Jo's writing coat!

Soundtrack

1994 soundtrack makes me weep tears of joy and nostalgia every time I hear it. 2019 doesn't even come close.

#mine #sorry this is SO LONG #feel free to disagree with me! i would love to discuss #little women #little women 2019 #little women 1994 #greta gerwig

[expertmakodriver]

30 Day Mass Effect Challenge: Day 5

5. Favorite character?

Surprising (hopefully) not a soul: Garry Vakary himself

(Disclaimer: I’m going to be talking about him in the context of the first two games while disregarding the third. Also, while Femshep technically is my favorite character, I already made a post about her, so I’m making this section about Garrus.)

Strap in, folks, because this is going to be a long post. 

When I first encountered Garrus, I immediately felt a connection to him since he seemed like one of the few people on the Citadel who actually gave a shit about stopping Saren. Despite being a C-Sec officer bound by red tape, he proved that he was a man of action by leaving all of the bureaucracy behind and getting some real work done with Shepard and the Normandy crew. Since turians and humans had a few remnants of tension between them as a result of the Relay 314 Incident/First Contact War, which was still somewhat recent, it was nice to see another turian, besides Nihlus, act civilly towards a human. 

Garrus was so eager to step up and take action against Saren; of course I let him aboard the Normandy. His struggle and Shepard’s struggle with politics are very similar; they both don’t like being told what to do by clueless politicians/higher-ups who try to prevent them from solving problems. This comes into play when Garrus and Shepard begin conversing more and more on the Normandy. I’ve always felt that Garrus’s interactions were a bit more profound than those of any other crew member; they don’t just talk to each other, but exchange opinions and feedback and really try to understand each other. They eventually develop a sort of mentor-protégé relationship to the point where Shepard really has a deep effect on Garrus in terms of his way of viewing the world. I had Shepard lead Garrus down the Renegade path while enforcing a few Paragon ideas (such as being cautious of the thin moral line that any Spectre walks as someone with nearly unlimited power in Citadel space), and I still do to this day.

I’ve always found it funny that Garrus is always super respectful to Shepard despite being a bit of a jerk to pretty much everyone else. Seeing him thank the commander at the end of the game for letting him in on the action and teaching him some valuable lessons was heartwarming, too. It made me kind of sad to think that he would go back to C-Sec after the war with Saren and Soverign was over, especially since he seemed to be so miserable there, but it was nice to know that he would follow Shepard’s lead and train to be a Spectre later on. 

Fast forward to Mass Effect 2, and I was so upset when The Illusive Man said that Garrus had disappeared a few months after the Normandy was destroyed. I kept wondering what had happened to him and if he would ever appear in the game again, but when I took a closer look at Archangel’s dossier and noticed the line “omni-tool expert and noted sniper” on it, I became very suspicious despite not wanting to get my hopes up.

Throughout Archangel’s recruitment mission, I kept worrying. Hearing the mercs talk about how Archangel had been cornered and put through hell for the past few days didn’t sit well with me. I think that was the one point at which I hoped that Archangel wasn’t Garrus, because I didn’t want to imagine Garrus going through all of that on his own. When I saw that Archangel had blue armor, I knew for sure it was him. Taking off his helmet and revealing his identity to Shepard made me so happy that I wasn’t at all bothered by how little I was surprised. I wasn’t entirely relieved, though, because Garrus was still in immediate danger. Seeing him so tired and damaged was rough; he was fairly different from the enthusiastic C-Sec officer that I had brought with me on every mission in the previous game. Even though he was exhausted and didn’t exactly have sufficient energy to physically display his emotion, you could tell just how happy he was to see Shepard alive and kicking. “Yeah I shot at you, Shepard. I wanted to get you moving so you could come get my ass out of here.”

When Shepard was forced to leave his side to close the shutters in the base’s lower level, I was in full panic mode. I didn’t trust Jacob or Miranda enough to leave them alone with him. Then when Garrus was nearly killed by the rocket that blew half of his face off, I literally had to pause the game and calm myself down because of how pissed I was. Of course I was distraught at the sight of his motionless body bleeding out on the ground, but I was also upset with the possibility that the game would give me a surprise reunion with my favorite character just to kill him off so quickly. I was, for the second time, overjoyed when I saw that he was alive a few moments later, but hearing him gasping for breath and choking on his own blood with Shepard, who is almost always composed and level-headed, freaking out while trying to help him was heart-wrenching. 

Then, right after I see Shepard looking very nervous and upset as Jacob explains the extent of Garrus’s injuries to her back on the Normandy, the smug bastard himself walks out of surgery and just casually waltzes up to Shepard like, “It’s only a flesh wound, I’ve had worse” and I literally thanked BioWare out loud for not killing Garrus. Shepard’s look of absolute relief and joy when she saw that he was okay was very touching, as was the fact that Garrus expresses that he’s more worried about Shepard than himself even though he nearly died a few hours ago. Garrus was so eager to fight alongside Shepard again that he put himself right to work at the Main Battery, and that really demonstrated how much trust he had in Shepard and her motives though I wish there was an option to have Shepard tell Garrus to focus on relaxing and getting some rest. Poor guy just went through hell and already wants to bury himself in calibrations. 

While Shepard and Garrus were catching up later on, Shepard was so gentle with Garrus while she asked him about his team and what he had been doing while she was gone, and I could see how broken he was by the death of his team and the betrayal of his former teammate. I felt bad for him. When he asked Shepard to help him find Sidonis a few hours of gameplay later, I knew it was because he wanted the moral support - he wanted Shepard to be there with him while he sought closure with Sidonis (regardless of how he gets it). 

Seeing Shepard and Garrus so synchronized while they tracked down Harkin and obtained information about Sidonis was great. They seem more like partners than mentor and student, and that was exactly what the writers were going for. 

When it came to allowing or preventing Sidonis’s death, I let Garrus shoot him, and I continue to do so during every playthrough. There are three main reasons for this, the first being that I felt that Shepard shouldn’t be involved in the situation as both a separate party and a non-turian. Turians have their own culture and deal with responsibility and leadership a bit differently than humans do; they pride themselves on taking ownership over their choices and putting the safety and interests of the whole before the individual. Sidonis broke both of these cardinal rules. Garrus, as both a turian and the leader of the group who Sidonis had betrayed, felt obligated to serve justice to Sidonis, another turian, and that is inherently something that Shepard cannot fully understand as a human. It wouldn’t feel right to let Shepard deny Garrus the right to deal with Sidonis in the way that he saw fit.

The second reason is that Sidonis was more than just a coward; he had the opportunity to warn Garrus of the trap set by the mercs for his squad, but he didn’t. Garrus says that he learned through some old contacts that Sidonis “booked transport off of Omega just before the attack” and disappeared. He didn’t even try to make things right with Garrus by confronting him afterwards and apologizing. This is why I’m not bothered by Garrus wanting to kill Sidonis. If I felt that Garrus was being too destructive or going too far, I would have had Shepard steer him back in the right direction. He kept himself in check well enough (like when he didn’t kill Harkin). 

And finally, the third reason: If Shepard came back to the Normandy one day and found that everyone - Garrus, Joker, Mordin, Tali, etc - had been slowly and painfully killed by an enemy group because, say, Jacob had been captured and sold Shepard out (and didn’t even try to warn Shepard or stop the attack), you know damn well that most, if not all, players would bring the fury of hell onto him. 

Now for the juicy part: Garrus’s romance. When I was innocently exploring Garrus’s dialogue options after his loyalty mission and stumbled across the “We could ease stress together” line, I lost my freaking mind. The game is going to let Shepard sleep with Garrus? Is this for real? I didn’t immediately realize that “easing tension” would turn into “making love and wordlessly declaring mutual feelings for each other”, so I was a little disappointed at first, but I was willing to take what I could get. Garrus was so flustered by Shepard’s proposition, to the point where he seems like he wasn’t expecting her to be interested in him at all, and seeing badass vigilante, merc leader, and hero of Omega turn into a shy softy around her was cute. 

Through further dialogue, Garrus began to hint that he had feelings for Shepard, and ugh it was so endearing. He made subtle remarks about wanting more than just “blowing off steam” with her without making his feelings obvious, probably because he didn’t want to chase her away with his heart, and when I combined this with the fact that despite these feelings, which he has had for who knows how long now (maybe even the first game?), he isn’t the one to make the first move, I realized that Garrus was probably too afraid of approaching Shepard with any sort of interest that he had in her because he didn’t want to be rejected and/or feared ruining their relationship. That was the final straw for me: I was super attached to his character at this point. The little dork wanted to watch porn to learn how to properly satisfy a human woman and thought that playing shitty club music was a good idea. The nerd. The doofus. I love him.

I’m just going to admit it: the first time I saw his romance scene with Shepard right before the Omega 4 Relay, I went from laughing as he awkwardly played techno music and tried to woo Shep with his bad flirting skills to tearing up as he confessed to her that he wanted their time together to be special and that he wanted to do things right. Notice how this is different from something he said previously about how if their romantic rendezvous goes south due to species incompatibility, fighting the Collectors would be “a welcome distraction” and wouldn’t be a big deal. Oh, no. It would be a big deal. Garrus wants to give Shepard the best final moment of peace he can before they take on the Collector base, and when Shepard shut him up and they touched foreheads (which I suppose is like the turian equivalent of a kiss given that turians don’t have lips to kiss with) I just lost my mind. I cried and I’m not ashamed to say it. It takes a lot to make me cry, since I’m not easily moved, but seeing Garrus and Shepard so happy in such a tender moment was too much for me. My two favorite characters enjoying peace and joy that they deserve. Beautiful. 

The suicide mission - I have all my upgrades, all loyalty missions complete, and I’m still freaking out about who is going to die and who is going to survive. I made the right choices in terms of who I assigned to what, but even with Garrus at Shepard’s side the whole time, I was again in full panic mode. I had like three separate heart attacks thinking that Garrus was about to be killed. I was literally shouting in horror as this happened: 

Everything worked out in the end, though. The whole crew survived, the base was destroyed, and Shepard got to snuggle with Garrus in her cabin afterwards. I was very, very happy.

So yeah, Garrus having such a profound character and being not just a likable badass but also Shepard’s most loyal companion is why I love him so much. Evidently, this is also why he’s one of the most, if not the most, popular characters from Mass Effect. Archangel owns all of our asses.

#mass effect #30dayMEchallenge #day5 #tl;dr garrus is best boy #me1 #me2 #femshep #shakarian