#which is the way things work with adults!

[dsiiress]

F*CK ME LIKE YOU MAD AT ME BABY!!

pairings (separate) ୨ৎ : toji fushiguro x reader, gojo satoru x reader, choso kamo x reader, suguru geto x reader

contains ୨ৎ : adult content (mdni), piv penetration, jealous/angry s*x, face sitting, c*nnilingus, overstim, car sex, squ*rting, edging, oral s*x (giving and receiving), pet names

a/n ୨ৎ : i might make a part 2 w/ sukuna, higuruma, nanami and shoko (or others), but it depends on how well this does!! not proofread btw, i posted this while half asleep 👎

in honor of me hitting 300+!!

toji fushiguro—☆

“fuck did i tell you about hangin’ out with that— bastard?” toji emphasizes each of his words with a snap of his hips. deep, merciless strokes into that, slick, puffy cunt of yours.

it was tired, tired from all the abuse it had taken. toji managed to pull three— no, four orgasms out of you in the span of an hour.

impossible for some. but toji? never that. he knew you like the back of his hand.

which is exactly how he knew you’d be so gullible, so naive, towards your conniving coworker.

of course you didn’t notice when he’d take glances at your tits as they restrained in your uniform. of course, when he offered to take you out to restaurants, you thought of it as ‘strictly business’.

but of course, thats what toji was here for— to keep you in check.

“im, haah— m’sorry tojii!!” you choked out a pathetic sob, trying your best to find common ground with the man. this torture had gone on for.. god knows how long. your brain was too fuzzy to even attempt to recall what time it was.

“sorry, my ass. shoulda’ been sorry a long time ago, mama. s’too late for all that now..” he grunted in reply, still continuing the ungodly pace he was going at.

jackhammering himself into you at this point— his full, aching balls slapping against your wetness.

he had your back arched— face up, ass down, hands tied behind your back, bobbing up and down with each mean thrust. red marks ingrained into the fat of your hips from the way he hooked his nails into them, making sure you’d be unable to run from him.

and it wasn’t just your hips that were marked, oh no. the crook of your neck, just along your collarbone, the inner and outer regions of your plush thighs. toji made sure to mark you up real nice and good.

“if you were really sorry,” he continued. “you would’ve stopped fuckin’ talking to that asshole months ago. then he woulda never thought it was— shit, be so handsy wit’ ya’.”

as toji replayed the scene in his head, his strokes were even sharper, practically burying you into the mattress at this point. he remembered picking you up from work, in your blouse and short pencil skirt that rode up your ass.

your coworker stopped you before leaving though, exchanging a quick goodbye, and a ‘simple hug.’ atleast thats what you called it.

but having his hands around your waist, slowly inching towards the hem of your skirt was anything but simple.

“toji, please— m’ really sorry! didn’t know..” you almost incoherently babbled out. the way his cock repeatedly pummeled its way against your sweet spot, it had you dumb. stupid, even.

“ya’ never fuckin’ know, huh? poor thing..gotta protect you from these men out here, yeah? need me by your side at all times?” he cooed sarcastically as you frantically nodded in reply.

“need you, daddy. n-need you to protect me—”

toji chuckled darkly, almost feeling bad from how pathetic you looked, how pathetic you sounded. the way your eyes rolled back as he hit your g-spot over and over, or the helpless cries that left your mouth as he did so.

“good. n’ thats how it needs to stay, mama.”

satoru gojo—☆

satoru couldn’t wait. he physically could not wait until he got home. no no, he needed you now.

his hands were engulfed in your hair, grabbing a plentiful handful as he bobbed your head up and down, soft groans of pleasure emitting from his parted lips.

“you thought that shit you pulled today was funny, yeah? messy fuckin’ girl.”

gojo had a meeting earlier with the higher-ups, discussing training for his students. you were practically on your knees, begging to tag along. after some consideration, he obliged (of course)—after all, who’s he to deny his favorite girl?

unfortunately for you, the meeting was more boring than you thought. listening to their voices drone on for what felt like eternities made your head ache.

unfortunately for satoru though, you let boredom get to the best of you.

he looked so damn attractive next to you, so professional— like his whole demeanor changed. your mind couldn’t help but wander elsewhere. your hands couldn’t help but wander either, as they discreetly drifted to the middle of his lap.

gojo let out a soft groan as you began palming him through his slacks, but was quick to conceal it with a cough. he tried desperately not to react too visibly, but it was becoming increasingly tormenting with each passing moment.

finally, after what felt like an eternity for both of you (though likely only seconds), satoru couldn't contain himself any longer— interrupting the meeting abruptly by announcing that you both needed to leave early due "to personal matters." with that excuse out of the way, he dragged you out before anyone could question the sudden departure.

to be quite frank, it was hilarious. well, in your eyes atleast. for satoru…?

ah, not so much.

mascara ran down your cheeks, tears welling up—blurring your vision as you felt the tip of his cock hit your uvula over and over. you could feel it throbbing angrily in your mouth as your tongue slobbed around the base.

gojo continued thrusting his hips back and forth into your mouth, holding onto your hair tightly. looking up, you could see his eyes rolling to the back of his head, milky strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.

even in his state, he still looked so dreamy.

satoru held you down, forcing you onto his base, your nose brushing against his well-kept happy trail. you choked, strings of drool pooling effortlessly down his cock. he let out a deep, throaty moan that seemed to reverberate inside the car. your mouth was so warm, so welcoming.

gojos thrusts intensified as he continued to recklessly pound himself into your slack jaw, the salty taste of his precum dribbling onto your tongue. he was close to cumming— you both knew it.

his movements became more shaky and jagged, sloppily going in and out of your mouth before stopping. before you knew it, sweet yet salty ropes of his essence painted the back of your throat— making you instinctively swallow. satoru quickly pulled out, resting his bare cock on your face as he felt another load arising.

and it did, painting your pretty face with his sticky, pearlescent seed.

gojo looked at the sight beneath him, cursing underneath his breath as he admired how good you looked. even covered in his cum, even with your hair all disheveled, you still looked amazing.

“a-acting out to get what you want— tsk, what a brat.” he teased, still recovering from his orgasm. typical gojo, even in his weakest moments, he never lost his charm nor attitude.

“well it worked, didn’t it?” you retorted, a sly smirk playing on your lips.

“i- uh. . . no comment.”

kamo choso—☆

choso was never the type to take his anger out on his loved ones, especially you.

the half curse, half human wasn’t unfamiliar with the feelings of anger and jealousy, although he never experienced the writhing feeling first hand.

but of course, there’s always a first time for everything.

“mine, mine, mine—“ choso whined, a series of breathless moans following soon after as he shamelessly pummeled into you. he had you in a nasty mating press as you lay flat on the bed, legs damn near reaching your ears.

“you’re my girlfriend, no one else’s. . . especially not— hngh, his.”

your male friend, who obviously had the hots for you. choso was baffled you couldn’t tell, as his flirtatious remarks and actions weren’t even that subtle.

the way he’d compliment your outfits, blatantly staring at your chest— especially when you wore lower cut tops. or when he’d ogle at your curves, licking his lips as his eyes rode up your thighs.

or like today, when he suggested you leave your boyfriend for him. now that, was choso’s last straw.

"you really shouuuld, ya know?" he slurred into your ear, clearly intoxicated from the drinks you both were sipping on. choso was just a few feet away in the living area, engrossed in some show he was watching. but his eyes flicked over to you occasionally, as he kept an eye on the situation.

"i mean, why are you even with him?" your friend continued, his voice a loud whisper, clearly thinking he was discreet. "you deserve someone who really appreciates you. someone like... me."

choso was enraged—he undeniably heard every word. someone who really appreciates you? the nerve.

standing up, he approached you two, shooting daggers into your friends wicked expression as he wrapped his muscular arm around your waist.

but that cockiness soon faltered after noticing your boyfriends deadly glare. your male friend started pathetically apologizing, claiming it was a ‘joke.’

but even choso knows that drunk words are sober thoughts.

“f-fuuck, ‘cho…he, aah— didnt mean it!”

“dont c-care…” he grunted, low and rough. his jagged, uncontrolled, breaths tickled against your skin as he nuzzled his way into the crook of your neck. “i appreciate you more than he, nngh, ever w-will.”

you let out a soft moan, his words shooting shivers down your spine. choso was never like this— so possessive. but who’s to say you were complaining?

he continued ravishing into you, so carnally— the feeling of being so completely claimed by him was both exhilarating and terrifying.

but damn, it turned you on like nothing else.

his pants echoed in your ears as he picked up speed, his body moving against yours in perfect rhythm, the sound of his thighs slamming against your own. any thoughts you had, fled from your mind except for the sensation of his cock bottoming out inside you and the way he took control of both your body and mind.

as the intensity built, you could feel yourself getting closer to you peak. you didn't want it to end, but you also knew that when it did, the pure feeling alone would be delectable.

“choso— m’gonna, f-fuck! mm’gonna cumm~!” you blubbered out, your eyes starting to pool. with those words, he picked up his pace even more— delving deeper inside of you. just as you were about to let go and give in, adrenaline coursing through your veins, choso objected.

"n-not yet,” he denied. “m’ not done with you yet."

geto suguru—☆

“s’too much, sug’!” you sobbed loudly as geto’s tongue danced around your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

you squirmed and writhed on suguru's face, your hips grinding against his mouth as he expertly teased your clit with his tongue. you couldn't believe how good it felt, how skilled he was at his craft.

"suguru..." you panted, gripping the headboard tightly as yet another wave of pleasure hit you like a semi-truck. "m’sorry, please. i-i didn’t mean it…”

suguru chuckled softly against your sensitive flesh, his expression twisting into a devilish grin. "oh?" he teased, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. "didn’t mean what? i can’t quite recall what it was."

he knew exactly what you were implying. yet, he was teasing— because the both of you knew what you said earlier contradicted this current state you were in now.

you bit your lip, feeling a warm blush creep up on your cheeks at the memory of what had come out of your mouth during the heat of the moment. "..‘said that you n-never make me cum," you mumbled sheepishly.

geto paused for a moment before resuming his ministrations with renewed vigor, causing yet another surge of pleasure to ripple through your body. "is that so? hm… i’ve never made you cum?" he asked mockingly, his voice full of amusement. “well she’s tellin’ me otherwise baby.”

he was referring to your cunt. the way “she” squelched as suguru slid his slender fingers in with ease, coated from your own slick mixed with his saliva.

the way he curled those digits inside of you, hitting that sweet spot that made your back arch and moans escape from between parted lips even as they were pressed against his face.

as his fingers continued to stroke your inner walls, searching for that perfect spot that would send you over the edge, his other hand reached up to play with one of your nipples.

the combination of the two was enough to make your head spin and your body shudder with anticipation. "s-suguru..." you whimpered out between gasps for air. "please... don't stop..."

his only response was a low rumble from deep within his chest—vibrating against your cunt as he swirled his tongue around your clit once again before finally taking it into his mouth completely, plunging two fingers deep inside of you.

a sharp hiss escaped from between your clenched teeth, followed by a subdued cry as suguru circled inside of you. he smirked, watching eagerly as your facial expression twisted lewdly with each nasty ministration. he was such a tease.

it felt as though your very being was on the verge of exploding. every nerve ending screamed for release, begging to be set free from this torment. the tension coiled tightly within you, threatening to snap at any moment and send waves of ecstasy crashing over your body.

you could feel it coming closer now— that inevitable peak where all sensations would converge into one, resulting in a mind-blowing orgasm. your heart raced, pounding against your chest like a drum signaling an approaching storm. sweat trickled down between your breasts and pooled at the small of your back as you arched further into suguru's touch.

but as quick as the pleasure built to a crescendo, it ended just as fast.

geto pulled his mouth away suddenly, grinning up at you from his spot between your legs, eyes sparkling with mischief. "since you said i never make you cum," he teased, his fingers curling inside of you in a way that threatened to push you over the edge yet again.

"i’m sure someone else will be able to help alleviate that little problem of yours." and with those words, he rose from his place underneath your figure. your legs being shaky, unstable, gave out beneath you, making you plop onto the mattress.

as geto sauntered towards the door with a smug smile on his face, he turned back to give one last taunt. “dont worry," he said with an air of false concern. "it shouldn’t be too hard finding someone that makes you cum as hard as i do."

DSIIRESBLOG™ 2024 — comments, feedback, and reblogs are always appreciated!! <3

#jujutsu kaisen #anime #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x reader #gojo smut #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #jjk suguru #jjk choso #jjk gojo #choso x reader #choso smut #choso kamo #getou suguru x you #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto x reader #jjk x reader smut

[zahri-melitor]

Hmmmm. Having so many more thoughts about "Damian's stories are about what Batman can do for Robin, while Tim's stories are about what Robin can do for Batman" as a concept.

And look this is partly me simplifying things way way down. Because ofc there are stories for both of them in the other direction, and I can name a bunch of them off the top of my head. But I'm looking at overarching themes.

Because!!! I think part of the divide in whether people feel particularly close to Damian's stories or particularly close to Tim's comes down to their identification over which fantasy and story they want to overlay the concept of Batman and Robin with. Do they want a fantasy about the strength and change a child can bring even to the adults around them? Do they want a fantasy about how a child can grow and be forgiven by adults for everything, even the dark parts of themself they hate?

"Can I fix others" vs "can others fix me" are both deep concepts people identify with, whether or not either impulse is a healthy one.

For instance. I will fully tell you that part of my problem with Dick and Damian as Batman & Robin, apart from the amount of it being written by Morrison, is that in the stories I have read, I see very few that give me a satisfying answer to 'what benefit is Dick getting out of this relationship', and as someone who helped coparent her own much younger sibling to the point my mother rewrote her will during that period to request that I got custody of my brother, not my father, should anything happen, reading a narrative where I'm supposed to celebrate Dick's sacrifices in taking on Damian is one where I want this situation to be rewarding for DICK. Because I know the suckitude of the situation where everyone is telling you how noble you are for making this sacrifice, and I know the joys you find in it, but by god is it hard and it is work that you can find yourself resenting and it is something where I see myself in Dick and I want a fantasy telling me that this was all worth it and the narrative is entirely uninterested in giving that to me.

#it is quite happy to tell me what benefit Damian gets from this #but if I'm being selfish about it #I don't care what Damian gets out of it #I want Dick to find joy and reward and pleasure in the role #parenting is hard work #parenting when you didn't sign up for it in the first place is even harder work #I want an answer more than the altruistic joy in seeing the changes in the child

[nyxi-pixie]

do you guys ever think about beast mori saying that ruling by fear is the most barbaric thing an adult can do.

because i do.

in canonverse, we see that he uses this kind of strategy with yosano. keeps her in line by keeping her terrified, and it works up until the point that she loses her mind. she wants to stop and he kills a man in front of her to force her hand. ruling by fear but the barbarism of it drives her to insanity. and then shes no use at all.

with the mafia, his strategy is different. he keeps his best players in line through the creation of family dynamics. the way the gifts are given when someone joins gives you a physical item tying you to whoever brought you in and we see that clothes represent loyalty a Lot in bsd (mori giving dazai his coat, dazai giving aku his, chuuya getting the hat - which in turn has its own insane connections between rimlaine).

on top of that, theres a lot of stress on group dynamics within the mafia. the ada, aside from kunikida and dazai, doesnt have set partnerships or groupings. they send whoever with whoever. in the mafia, people tend to keep to smaller groups (the black lizard + higuchi, dazai + chuuya, chuu kouyou and mori, the flags, etc)

theres interaction between everyone ofc but theres a lot more focus on these groups, and that means people spend more time w specific people and grow very attached to them. its why higuchi stays, its why tachihara chooses the pm over the hunting dogs when it comes down to it, its a pretty big reason for why chuuya and kouyou havent left despite formerly both wanting to.

dazai and kyouka get out, but dazai has to lose someone like family Knowing that mori not only let it happen but planned for it. him leaving isnt the betrayal it wld be under other circumstances, bc hes been betrayed first (or at least. in his eyes. i have a separate essay on that but. not the time) and with kyouka, shes so isolated during her time in the mafia it seems she didnt rlly have time to grow those connections (and even then, she still had the dynamic with kouyou. its Hard for her to get out and it takes a lot of outside help and shes so young that the mafia hasnt had time to take root.)

and its just interesting to me that mori learned from his mistakes with yosano and has so many more people tied down because of it. the way he interacts with her now still ironically seems to be falling into that habit. hes so open with asking dazai to come back but with yosano there has to be an air of danger attached. perhaps because he knows theres no way he can ever win her loyalty without force, and hes perfectly fine doing the most barbaric thing possible if he thinks it will save the people he wishes to save. he chose to become a doctor in the first place after all, its no wonder her ability is so important to him

#thinks about beast mori. explodes #mori ougai #bsd #oh look the essay ive been waiting to post #analysis

[strangestcase]

i think the proship community is dangerous because it encourages the presence and participation of minors in sexually charged contexts (which often leads to them being taken advantage of. who would have guessed the adults defending loli would be a danger to kids)

No exactly, exactly, like… the thing w proship spaces is that they do have good points about media literacy in a vacuum, I think everyone should be against censorship and happily writing about whatever they want. The thing is that pedos will ALWAYS insert their abusive preferences into any political ideology (look up post-Nazi Germany) if they can get away with it— they’ve done it to the left, to the right, to progressives, to conservatives, they always work backwards.

I can’t stress this enough: anything, any ideology, any set of beliefs, can be a twisted into justification to interact inappropriately with kids/teens; anything can be a good reason to coerce a child into sex in an abuser’s eyes. And, as it stands, the statement “there’s nothing wrong with having taboo sexual interests”, true as it is , is FERTILE SOIL for pedo and pedo enablers to take root in. What should drive morality re:children and sex isn’t disgust, isn’t politics, isn’t aesthetics— it’s the fact that children can’t consent to sex because they simply aren’t mature enough to fully understand what it is.

The thing is . Children are intelligent and deserving of autonomy and freedom; taking advantage of their inexperience for sexual purposes is the opposite of giving children autonomy and freedom, but it’s very easy to spin it into a narrative of sexual freedom and children’s rights to have sex with adults (as if that ever happened magically On Its Own, lmao).

I say it very often that “ship discourse” is an incredibly bad way to discuss these sorts of things. Media literacy, censorship, and internet moderation are all very nuanced topics that you can’t divide into little sports-like teams. This sentiment I’ve seen reflected in a lot of other Tumblr users. I’m not anti or pro I’m an adult with a job etc etc . But that said I am immediately distrustful of proship spaces even if I agree with some of their points, much more than I am of anti spaces when I think they also make good points, and the reason is that proship spaces, as Anon says, have taken sexual liberation the wrong way and tend to either not care or be all for children interacting with adults in questionable contexts re:sex. Those spaces make it very easy to groom kids under the guise of kink/queer/sex positivity (which IMO is frankly insulting as a sex positive kinky queer). The end result is a community that is against pedophilia in theory but fails to protect children in practice.

The other reason I favor “antis” over “proships” is because proshippers are (in my experience) annoying as fuck and weirdly high and mighty about liking incest, as if it was subversive. A quick glance at the family tree of Greek mythology characters says otherwise.

[geneclarksboobs]

if you squint a bit or just believe in me the narrative of the monkees is almost epistolary or maybe multi-media in the way that you have to use video interviews, articles, other things, to piece together what they experienced and to know what people thought about them during the shows run

you could go even meta with this because i learnt about alot of the background stuff through older blog posts on tumblr which did impact my initial reading of head (1968) which could be a really interesting thing to think about - how other people talking about a certain work can also be influential on someone's interpretation of the text

and i kind of wonder to what extent all these things were known about the monkees when head (1968) first premiered because yknow the background info abt the real life monkees is an essential part of the narrative the film is telling. how did it influence how the film was received? how crazy would it be for a teen-young adult who watched all the episodes of the original tv show, maybe hear the 'monkees dont play their own instruments thing' and see them live, to see how the monkees as a concept are depicted within the film

#the monkees #my monkees meta.....

[mister-dirty-hands]

the bitches want me so bad but they won't get me

finn • he/him• queer • neurodivergent • minor

this blog is mainly just reblogs, goofing off with my mutuals, shitposting, swearing, and being hella gay.

dni list: homophobes, transphobes, zionists, ableists, racists, sexists fatphobes, and anyone else who supports harmful or discriminatory prejudices.

i'm cool with adults interacting, as long as y'all keep it chill and shit.

note: i don't like to talk about politics here on tumblr. it's my chill out place, and i'd like to keep it that way.

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about me

i enjoy writing, reading, drawing, and maybe the occasional singing

i listen to mostly angsty music

i write fanfic on ao3 here

i'm intp-t + gryffindor + apollo cabin

hyperfixation with crows and rome

i tend to have an existential crisis every other day

i promise you can't find anyone gayer than me

i like to make moodboards :33

i prefer emoticons over emojis but i do use both a fair amount

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things you should know

i'm pretty socially awkward so this is my apology in advance to everyone i inevitably offend or annoy

speaking of which, i don't always pick up on jokes and sarcasm

i love asks but i get kinda oversimulated when my ask box gets clogged up so don't spam thanks

my notifs are always blowing up so sorry if i miss a comment or reblog

i don't always respond to things right away (even dms)

i'm kinda sensitive so sometimes i may not respond to your jokes- it's not personal, it's just me

tone indicators are appreciated, but it's not like i'll stab you if you don't use it

if you're a mutual, feel free to call me endearments like love, darling, dear, whatever (just don't be overly weird about it)

i have really dirty humor so if that makes you uncomfortable sorry

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sideblogs

@your-honor-im-zesty <- pjo/hoo sideblog

@im-actually-a-certified-idiot <- hp/marauders sideblog

@thoushallwrite <- writing sideblog

@a-poetic-loser <- poetry sideblog

@random-polls-i-do-for-fun <- polls sideblog

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fandoms

harry potter/marauders

percy jackson/heroes of olympus

six of crows/shadow and bones

marvel

hunger games

wednesday

anne with an e

outer banks

high class homos

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tags

@seekmemystar i finally came up with a few new tags are you happy now

CROWS/caw caw <- i'm talking about crows

finn shitposts <- i shitpost

the crow caws back <- i answer asks

the crow flies away <- i leave/log off

the crow finds a trinket <- tag games

practicing my spanish like god intended <- i attempt to speak spanish

back in my day gays didn't even know they existed <- i attempt satire homophobia (key word: satire)

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crowdom

the crowdom is basically just a silly little kingdom of crows i rule over. anyone's free to join, as long as we're mutuals (that way i know you). just send an ask and i'll give you a list of roles to pick.

it started out as a joke, but we do polls and discussions every once in a while. last i checked, @xeme-starx was voted to rot in prison (how's that working out for you ethan?)

every once in a while i drop crowdom lore (if someone asks) so feel free to send asks about it.

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mutuals

i adore each and every one of my mutuals dearly, but obviously, i can't tag everyone. sooo here's a few i talk to pretty often:

@themortalityofundyingstars <- gay dad

@garden-of-runar <- lesbian poet who's apparently my aunt

@gildy-locks <- proud anti-communist

@rheas-chaos-motivation <- FUCK THE PIGEONS RHEA

@picklerab23 <- just a silly goose fr

@tequilaqueen <- sweet person (why is she on this hellsite again?)

honorable mention: @ang3lic-t3ars <- sunflower dealer, she be dropping the crack frfr

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anyway that's all. this will probably be deleted and recreated in 2 weeks- who knows? i love making new intro posts and i can't promise i won't change it.

go stay hydrated, eat, rest. whatever. don't do any stupid shit or i'll haunt your asks (looking at you, runar)

#intro #intro post #blog intro #blog intro post

[batfamscreaming]

Do you have any examples in mind for the Alfred as Bruce's handler idea? What would be the sort of thing that's weird? Because keeping him up-to-date on politics and taking care of his diet, or even talking him down from fear gas attacks doesn't seem that weird to me. Especially with how their lives are going. What specifically are you thinking of? This is such an interesting take, would love to hear more about this

"With how their lives are going" is sort of the point. A butler is a household manager, so like yes, there's some overlap with controlling and organizing lots of people-- but like, not their boss? In a smaller household butlers might do things like take on valet and housekeeping duties, which is probably what happened after the household downsized after Martha and Thomas died. That's also probably when he went from Mr Pennyworth to Alfred.

And people know it's a weird situation. Like. Okay. So the one potential relative the Waynes may have had (Jacob Kane) is too young to take Bruce in, or Martha and Thomas just fuckin hate their other living relatives and specifically write that if anything happens to us Bruce goes to Alfred, or Bruce goes to a relative for like 2 months and it Does Not Work and either Bruce or Alfred bribe a judge to make Alfred his guardian. Lots of options, all of them A Weird Situation Everybody Knows About.

I think partly because of trying to maintain normalcy in Bruce's life (and because of his own emotional issues) Alfred does hold onto the butler/valet thing maybe a little harder than might have been ideal, but if he dresses Bruce he's just lying clothes out for him on the bed or helping him get dressed up for important events. There's no point for Alfred to drive him around-- by all rights Alfred should have his own driver-- and they should have a cook and housemaid and maybe they have Dory like in the batman 2022, but it's still a weird thing to be, essentially, raised by the staff.

(I think maybe that's a separate point but I do think it should play more into the conception of Brucie as a person. He's not just comfortably empty headed and kind to 'the help' because he's stupid and never had parents to teach him how a rich man ought to behave. He's that way because he was raised by the help. Not even in the normal way where you pay/kidnap a nanny to raise your kids instead of her own. Just straight up the butler and the housekeeper and the family physician. [Bruce knows Leslie's a surgeon but his association is still like, 'ah, yes, my pediatrician who showed up to all my birthdays whether I wanted one or not.'])

The thing is that when this is happening as Bruce is a kid, it's weird, but like, it's normal too. They get a closer relationship than child and butler usually do. It's normal for a younger kid to not control his meals too much but once he's an older teen he makes requests for dinner and it happens. He starts growing independent and comes to Alfred less for advice, sometimes making him worry, but he's becoming an adult and soon he won't need Alfred at all!

...and then Bruce runs off with a few hundred thousand dollars in cash and vanishes for years without a word.

When he comes back he's got this absolutely deranged idea in his head about going out and violently making the city a place people are afraid to commit crimes. Sure petty theft and carjacking, but no: he's going to make mafiosos afraid. He's going to very specifically make them feel unsafe in their own homes. He's going to terrorize every crooked cop and politician until quitting and struggling for the rest of their lives sounds like a better option than continuing to take an extra 10k home a month.

....so anyway, Alfred unfortunately loves this kid too much to throw him into Arkham, and it seems like he'd be pretty hard to wrestle now after going through all that assassin training.

So early Alfred takes on what eventually sort of gets outsourced to Oracle, because even if he hasn't been around it since Martha and Thomas were alive he remembers more about upper crust society behavior and Bruce needs to nail it down. So it's not just "here's the summary of the daily newspaper master bruce" it's "this is Julia Danvers she's the only heiress to an oil field fortune and has an allergy to shellfish. She's sort of into environmentalism but isn't really thinking it through and any real complicated solutions that would cause damage to the business make her feel like the end of her family line, which of course ends with a woman and they're going to blame her for being a woman and ruining the business for everyone else. So when you talk to her, here is what I think you should do..."

Bruce doesn't pick his meals anymore because he barely eats so Alfred makes a protein shake with so many other added nutrients that you do have to ease yourself onto them unless you want to absolutely annihilate your gut and suffer in the bathroom for three days. Of course, Bruce never had to think about this, because Alfred did the easing on himself by varying the inputs over the course of a month gradually with the rest of his meals that were easy digestables.

Talking down from fear gas isn't something they plan for but it is something that like: Bruce is seeing a monster. It is telling him the terrible things it will do.

It is using Alfred's voice, so Bruce has to believe there's a good reason for it to do those things, and gives himself over to it.

It's not just that Alfred puts aside what he'd carefully raised and hoped for to ruthlessly try and keep alive what he has. It's that Bruce knows he's being handled, and allows it.

#it's WEIRD and no one else was raised by a butler so they have no idea if it's just them not being used to it or not #incorrrct it is objectively a weird relationship #i had to free thought associate to answer this sorry. i hope it makes sense though #beatext #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth

[codenamesazanka]

Deku’s not rejecting the 'great hero' label from All Might, and by Chapter 425, still doesn't seem more broken up about being unable to save Shigaraki. Which I think means he wasn't actually all that serious about his save. 

If he had really, truly wanted to save this Crying Child, and really, stubbornly thought he could and would, Shigaraki/Tenko’s death is a huge failure. A black mark on his values and aspirations. Failing to save a little child is just unacceptable. There’s no excuse for it, no comforting words in the aftermath, nothing. If Eri had gotten blown up during the Overhaul fight, I guarantee you Deku would be hysterical. Inconsolable. That sad abused 6-year-old he wanted to save just died. 

That Deku isn't any of that right now - or when he was conversing with Shigaraki in Shigaraki last’s moments, or when Shigaraki’s body was falling apart - means he knew Shigaraki wasn't 1-to-1 the Crying Child, he knew he wasn't actually dealing with a 5-year-old. He knew he can't actually save that 5-year-old, can't actually bring him into reality to cradle in his arms like Eri. It’s pretty obvious.

-> Deku did not believe Shigaraki was actually The Crying Child. To him, Shigaraki was an adult villain (whose life he values less than an actual innocent child - which is fair. That’s the standard belief.)

So… why repeat that mantra of 'Save The Crying Child'? Why focus so wholly on that psychic vision to the exclusion of anything else? This is already pretty gross - he’s ignoring the adult man in front of him for a psychic vision ghost child.

Then, it must be: Deku has to have known in some way that the Crying Child was only an inner representation of some trauma Shigaraki was carrying.

He'll be dealing with some mental wound inside of Shigaraki; he'll be working out Shigaraki's trauma and what exactly made him such an angry villain. Maybe healing that trauma might just cause Shigaraki to stop his rampage. 

And yet, despite knowing this was how things are, Deku never engages with Shigaraki in any way that opens up this avenue of investigation. He doesn't research anything about Shigaraki’s mental state or background or just his overall character, despite having hundreds of Shigaraki’s captured army sitting in jail cells, despite having core League member Mr. Compress right there, who evidently cared enough about his leader to mutilate himself to show Shigaraki to escape. 

Deku doesn't talk to Shigaraki, never asking questions, never calling for parley, never even just trying. If he shouted random things to Shigaraki - Do you like dogs? Isn't Danger Sense wild? If you sink Japan, that means you'll have to swim, so are you a good swimmer? - and Shigaraki ignored them, that'd be one thing. The most Deku does is to still yell about 'not ignoring the inner crying child’, but that's a statement of his (patronizing) intent. Not actually anything that invites Shigaraki to reciprocate, to create the start of a back-and-forth connection.

One might argue: Shigaraki could have responded to the ‘Crying Child’ comment so that Deku has something to work with… and Shigaraki actually does. In Chapter 412, Shigaraki says Deku is trying to fit him into his narrow worldview, when that crying child has turned into Shigaraki Tomura… But that’s not an answer that Deku accepts. He dismisses it entirely, to focus again on The Crying Child he saw. Deku doesn’t work with Shigaraki’s answer at all; it’s true the vestiges start talking to him, but Deku said himself ‘I have to ask why [Shigaraki] can’t let go of that lonely past of his’... then does not ask.

But before that, it’s not on Shigaraki to make the connection here, because he has no reason or intention to - it's entirely on Deku because Deku made it his motivation. And so it's also on Deku for refusing to latch onto any of the things Shigaraki does say: everything he’s witnessed in this world, the only thing that will save him is destruction, flattening Mt. Fuji for Spinner.

Deku supposedly wants to understand - wants connection - but it seems only on his terms, on the topic he dictates, with answers he likes. That's the farthest thing from establishing a rapport enough to even approach any inner trauma. Forget healing anything. How can he heal Shigaraki’s heart if he has no interest in what exactly lies inside of it? No, the Crying Child doesn't count. Like I said, that's the topic he dictates. 

-> Deku understood that the Crying Child was symbolic of pain that Shigaraki covered with a lid, yet when Shigaraki deigned not to share details, didn’t care much to find a way to uncover that lid beyond punching the crap out of Shigaraki.

This means… what, exactly?

There are many possible answers. None of them are good. He doesn’t actually respect Shigaraki very much, or at all. He’s only interested in Shigaraki affirming something for him. He thinks Shigaraki is despicable, but is at least nice enough to want to stop his pain - though not nice enough to do it non-violently. It’s less about Shigaraki and more about his own ego. He wanted to save Shigaraki, but also wanted him punished, so his save was brutal. 

But all that really boils down to this: Deku did not see Shigaraki as a full person, and did not treat him as such.

The Crying Child was a curiosity. He wanted to save The Crying Child to fulfill his own satisfaction. The manga backs it up:

Shigaraki, speaking through memory-visage: Say you learn more. What then? Say you expose his past to the light. Will that change a damn thing?  Deku: I don’t know! But letting this end without finding out wouldn’t sit right with me!

"letting this end without finding out wouldn’t sit right with me"

Deku doesn’t know. He doesn’t have a plan for what happens after receiving that information - no use, no application, no intentions. There’s no logic to his action here - it simply doesn’t ‘sit right’ with him. This is about his feelings. This is about fulfilling his own instinct to save. If he manages to make Shigaraki feel better, that’s good, but that’s a bonus.

Deku, during the battle, doesn’t even know if he can make Shigaraki feel better. He has no notebook full of ideas to make sure that saving Shigaraki’s heart will be the guaranteed outcome. He simply wants to try, because he wants to save, because it’s about his desire to be a Hero. The coolest thing someone can do. 

#nalslastworkingbraincell #however much you want to blame this on Horikoshi's writing is also up to you #SORRY for the broken record #i'll stop at this post

[ghost-bxrd]

Dick making friends with Mockingjay.

The thing is, Jason doesn't have any particular hatred towards Dick - just the general hate towards all Bats and all heroes.

He hates Bruce and Tim for obvious reasons, but he and Dick were never close enough to feel strongly one way or the other.

He isn't surprised Dick didn't avenge him, because why should he? It isn't like Bruce, Dick never made the choice to take him in, if he didn't want to play big brother to the random kid, well, annoying, but okay.

So unlike with Bruce or Tim, Jason doesn't spew quite so much vitriol about Dick to MJ. So already it is a 'the least horrible among the Bats' impression. Which is not saying much, but still.

More to the point? Mockingjay is basically what Baby Robin Dick was - I mean, waving a severed arm? That's 100% something feral robin Dick would have done.

So Dick has a much better idea than the others on how to deal with the gremlin.

He knows better than to talk the kid into leaving Hood, he knows how he would have reacted to anyone taking him away from Bruce in the early years.

So he just, kinda offers random tips to the kid? Like, "Hey, that mob guy your boss is after? He's got arachnophobia. So if you guys wanna have some fun questioning him..."

Or

"Come on, kiddo! You grabbed the arm when the head was right there? Imagine how it'd look if you just pushed it at the right angle to make it look like it's nodding!"

Stuff like that. And laughs at the insults the kid spews at him. There isn't really much the kid can say which will get to him - school pretty much immunized him to any surprise at kids being absolutely brutal.

And has practical answers to the ' why won't you kill' question. Like, "Kiddo, we start killing, we lose Gordon. The Mayor is already bought, just looking for an excuse to sic the cops on us. We lose ability to coordinate with the idiots in charge, good luck dealing with anything city wide - like that Man Bat invasion last week. We'd be fighting both the cops and the bad guys. Fine if you're just a dealer defending your territory from regular bad guys, but not gonna work on a larger scale. I mean, there's a pretty good reason your boss isn't going after any big name Rogues or even going out the Alley"

Of course, there's still absolutely no doubt where MJ's loyalties lie, but still, MJ with enough of a semi amiable connection with Nightwing to go to him if Jason is in trouble and MJ can't get him out of it alone, or if MJ is being chased or something and Jason isn't close enough to help.

In the beginning I think Dick will be too angry over the bastardization of Robin to even consider taking this route with Mockingjay. Like everyone else, he’s convinced Hood must be abusing/grooming Mockingjay and attempt to do the “you’re safe with us spiel”, which is just going to annoy MJ so much more.

But eventually, if Dick stops to think long enough about it, then I can see him trying to take the route you suggested and attempt to establish himself as a trustworthy adult in MJ’s life, in the hopes that the kid will realize how messed up his situation is and come to Dick for help.

Of course that would also mean he has to stop insulting Red Hood around Mockingjay, which is very hard for poor Dick.

But we’ll see how the Nightwing situation is going to play out in AoM 😌✨

#antithesis of magic

[ferigrieving]

abiditory

⊹ ࣪ in which touya todoroki finds himself again

a.n can you tell i dont know how buying a house works please. please give me tips on how to make this more realistic im so serious please old people out there. also canon divergent shoto already knows that dabi is touya i think theres no way that hes stupid enough.. not to know. i guess.

⤷ masterlist ; one ; three ; requests open

endeavour, number one hero, and his father, would be his mark.

when you were out the door, dabi leapt into action. he immediately began getting ready for his heist. pulling on different clothes, grabbing the necessary supplies, his heart was thrumming with excitement and nerves. he hadn’t done anything like this since he was a teenager, stealing from random civilians to buy cigarettes and snacks. but now, he was going after the big fish.

dabi wasn’t bothered by the risk of being caught. he’d been on the run for years, living a life filled with crime and danger. being a villain was his identity, and he embraced it fully. even if he got caught, even if this plan failed, it didn’t matter. 

he would risk everything, burn everything to ash, to make you happy. he didn’t care if he went down in flames. 

he’d take his father with him.

he grinned to himself as he finished gearing up. he looked almost like himself again as he looked in the mirror; dark clothes, face-mask, heavy boots, and a scowl that dared anyone who looked at him. he might look like a villain ready for business, but his mind was filled with thoughts of you. the sweet, domestic life he envisioned was at the forefront of his brain as he thought of you sitting on the porch of that house, the warm sun on your face. it would be worth everything.

dabi considered different ways to get the money. stealing from endeavor’s agency was one way, but it was risky and they had plenty of security. he couldn’t just walk up and take it. that left only one option. 

he had a feeling his old man would have his cash somewhere in his own home. he was a hero, after all. all that cash would be useless if it wasn’t kept safe in a bank somewhere. even he knew better than that.

dabi thought back to when he lived with his father. the layout of his big home was forever burned in his brain. it wouldn’t be hard to infiltrate. there were plenty of places to hide, plenty of access points, and plenty of windows to jump out of. he’d have to sneak past endeavor’s security, but with his knowledge of the house, it was possible.

he always wondered what the safe that he had seen once in the wall was for. the painting was wide open, hanging on its hinges. he’d always assumed it was full of boring adult stuff- tax papers, old photos, things like that. now, however, he knew better. there was probably thousands, if not millions, of yen hiding in that safe, all for the taking.

that would be his target. dabi would sneak in, find the safe, grab the cash, and sneak back out. it would be easy. and if anyone tried to stop him, well… he’d burn them to ash.

dabi crouched behind a tree on the edge of the todoroki estate, his eyes fixed on the building. he surveyed the house, seeing if anyone was home. endeavor would probably be at his agency, so now would be the best time to strike. he could take his time, rifle through that house, and not even leave a single trace of himself behind. no one would suspect a thing. 

he had to remind himself that this was all for you. for your happiness, and for his dreams to come true. with that thought in mind, he stepped through the gate and began scouting the area for a way in.

silently, he crept around the edge of the property, staying low and out of sight. he'd memorized the blind spots in the security as a kid, so he stuck to them. sneaking past the guards and through the gate was easy. he just had to get in and out before anyone even knew he was there.

he was careful as he moved silently through the bushes and shadows of the estate. he could vaguely remember a few old childhood antics that might work, like how his younger brother natsuo used to sneak out through the window to go see his friends.  

now came the harder part. sneaking through the house without drawing any attention to himself. he crept silently through the darkened rooms, the layout of the house still fresh in his memory. he could still hear the yelling from those long ago days. the anger, the beatings, the constant training. it all ran through his mind as he crept through the rooms he'd once called home.

it was suffocating.

as he thought of his past, his breath became labored and his hands began to tremble. he could still hear the screams of the past. it felt like the house was closing in on him. squeezing any breath out of him. he shut his eyes tightly, clenching his fists as he focused on making it to the bedroom. it was just a house, it couldn’t hurt him anymore. 

he kept repeating the mantra until he made it to the bedroom door. taking a last deep breath, he pushed open the door.

dabi stared at the painting. the tacky, golden leaves were just as he remembered them. his eyes flickered over them to the blank safe behind it. he had to laugh at that, shaking his head as he approached the safe. he already knew the combination, the same one endeavor used for everything. 

he turned the dial, his heartbeat thrumming in his chest. 01. 11. 75.

click!

he carefully pulled open the safe, his eyes immediately lighting up at the sight of all that cash. he’d never seen that much money in his life, and here it was, in his hands. he didn’t bother counting it, knowing it would be more than enough for the house. he began shoving it into his bags, his smile returning. this was almost too easy.

“–touya?

dabi whipped around, his blood running cold. he stared at his prodigy brother, mind going blank. h ow long had he been there? how much had he seen? how’d he even know to come? it didn’t matter, he’d get out of this.

he forced a smirk to his face, hiding the panic in his eyes. “well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” he drawled, his hands twitching at his sides.

“what the hell are you doing?”

dabi stared at shoto for another second, his mind racing. but finally, he decided to play it off. he grinned, raising his arms as if in surrender. “what does it look like?” he drawled, “i’m stealing some cash from the old man. for someone so smart, you’re awfully stupid.”

he shrugged, answering the questions he knew shoto had before he could even think to speak, “he’s got plenty of it, shoto. what’s some extra cash to him? he’s the number one hero, he can always get more.” he took a step closer to his brother, letting his eyes rake up his form. shoto hadn’t changed much, had he? he was still that same little boy he’d run away from years ago.

dabi grinned, leaning closer and patting shoto on the cheek. “come on, little shoto! you gonna tell on me?” he jeered, his eyes flickering to shoto’s scar. “you gonna go snitch on mommy and daddy for me?” he was riling him up on purpose, wanting a rise out of the little brat.

“i couldn't care less what you’re doing. its dad’s money, anyway. take all of it.” he frowned, smacking dabi’s hand away and taking a step back. “i dont care.”

dabi paused, his eyes widening. he hadn’t seen that coming. he’d thought shoto still idolized endeavor, but here he was, completely against him. dabi grinned widely, suddenly happy to have a comrade. 

“well that makes two of us,” he said with a chuckle. shoto really had changed in the years he’d been gone. he’d grown up, and not into the golden child their father had wanted.

shoto blinked once, turned on his heel, and left.

dabi chuckled watching him go. what a little brat. but it seemed he wasn’t going to stop him, so he turned back to the safe. he gathered the rest of the cash, stuffing it into his bags. his heart was beating wildly in his chest. 

now, he just had to get out.

dabi left the room swiftly, bags in hand. he crept softly down the hallway to the entrance of the house, sticking by the shadows as he went. 

he didn’t see shoto anywhere, so the brat must have gone somewhere else. good, less trouble for him. he approached the door silently, peering out of the windows. all clear.

dabi left the premises without any trouble. the guards were still focused on patrolling the front, not a single one had thought to check the back of the house. he slipped through the gate, leaving the estate far behind him. 

he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, leaning on a nearby tree. he’d done it. he’d gotten everything he needed, and now he’d be able to buy that beautiful house for you.

ring ring.

dabi’s head jerked up as he heard his phone ring. who was calling him at a time like this? it was probably shigaraki, ready to whine at him for taking so long with the plan. 

he answered it quickly, bringing the phone to his ear. “this better be good, crusty,” he snapped.

“–love?”

dabi’s eyes softened instantly, and his heart leapt at the sound of your voice. “oh, hey doll,” he sighed, his voice suddenly soft. “what’s up?”

dabi paused for a moment, thinking. bakery, huh. “hmm, surprise me,” he finally said. “i bet you’ll pick something good.” he wasn’t really paying attention. his mind was elsewhere at the moment. namely, on his successful heist.

dabi grinned, his mind already on the sugary treat. “you know you love me,” he laughed, his heart racing at the thought of you. “now, can you get me one? please, sweetcheeks?”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. ill be back in ten, dont be dead by then.” click.

dabi had to hold himself back from jumping with joy like some sort of cartoon character. he had the money from endeavor. he’d escaped the estate without being caught. and you were on your way back with a treat. 

now all he had to do was get to the realtor and seal the deal.

dabi was still riding his high from the success of his heist, but he wasn’t stupid. he could easily get caught if he tried buying the house himself. someone had to do it for him. he was so obviously a villain. he had to get one of his more normal looking gus to do it. maybe giran? or toga?

he quickly dialled a number. if anyone could fake it as a civilian, it was her.

toga picked up on the first ring. “dabi!” she greeted cheerfully. “where have you been for the past two weeks? i’ve missed you…” she sang, a light giggle in her voice.

"stayin' at the hideout. could you do me a favour? " dabi spoke, opening the door to the hideout with one foot and shutting it behind him.

toga made a sound of disbelief, her voice turning a little teasing. “a favour? what could you, mr. big bad villain, possibly want from me, a young innocent girl?”

“fuck off. i need to buy me a house.”

toga gasped excitedly at his words. “a house?” she squealed, “like, a.. home? you want a home, just for the two of you? you and your little boyfriend”” a manic laugh left her lips. “wow! things are getting serious, huh? i can’t believe you’d trust a poor little girl like me with this. this is a very big favour. maybe i should just tell all the others how serious you’re getting, i’m sure they’d love that—”

“toga, shut the fuck up and get your ass over here.”

toga cut off her giggling and squealing, letting out a breathy sigh. “okie dookie. i’m on my way. gimme like ten minutes.” she hung up, leaving dabi to himself. he poured himself some whiskey from the many bottles of alcohol that lined the shelves, and waited.

he spent the next few minutes checking the news to make sure there was no word about endeavor’s money going missing. after a few minutes, toga finally arrived. she skipped over to him, her signature smile on her face.

"so!" toga sang, clasping her hands in front of her. "what's this about a house, hmm?" 

dabi rolled his eyes, giving her the most unamused look he could muster. he'd have to pay her back for the mocking later. "it's exactly what i said. i need you to buy a house for me and my love."

toga gasped excitedly, hopping on her feet as if she could explode. "oh my god , you're buying a home for the love of your life? dabi, you're getting so soft!" she cooed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "you're gonna settle down! what's next, a minivan and two point five kids?"

dabi gritted his teeth, his patience wearing thin. "just shut up and listen, dammit. i just need you to do the simple task of buying a house for me. i'm the one paying for it to begin with, it's just that i can't go do it myself."

toga pouted at his harsh tone, but reluctantly agreed. "fine, fine. but you're so lucky to have little old me as your personal shopper! what do you want? a cute little suburban home? a cozy cottage in the woods? ooh, maybe a castle or something!"

“we already found a house. just– just go pay for it. go steal someones blood and do whatever it is you do.”

toga snatched the information from his hand, giggling as she glanced over the description. “ooh, so domestic,” she teased, “and in a good area, too! you’re getting really serious about these house-buying shenanigans. does you secret partner know just how much of a romantic you’re becoming?”

“toga himiko if you do not get out of this place right now and buy that house i will fucking turn you into ashes.”

toga’s smile widened, “aww, is someone mad?” she grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. she had been enjoying riling up dabi a little too much in the last few minutes. he was just so cute when he was annoyed with her.

but she decided to have mercy on him. for now, at least. she saluted him mockingly. “well then, i’m off to go fulfil my duties as your personal shopper! i’ll have you living in your dream cottage by the end of the night!”

as soon as toga left, you walked in, glowing as always. dabi doesnt think he’ll ever get used to how good you look.

dabi's irritation melted away instantly as he saw you enter. it was as if your presence was an immediate cure for all his stress. when you were around, nothing else seemed to matter.

he gave you a crooked grin as he stood to greet you, his eyes softening. "there you are, doll," he purred, pulling you into his arms.

you could feel the tension leaving your body the moment he pressed you against his chest, his warmth instantly soothing you. you wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing him in. "hey, you," you greeted softly, burying your face against his shoulder. “i brought your cupcake.”

dabi's heart fluttered at the pet name, and a smile spread across his face. he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing feather-light kisses along your skin. "you're perfect, baby," he purred, his voice low and gentle.

as he pulled back, his eyes landed on the little pink treat in your hands, and he grinned. "oh, you really are perfect," he laughed, taking it from you. immediately, he took a big bite.

he hummed in contentment as he chewed, the sweetness melting in his mouth. he hadn't planned on getting all domestic with you, but now he couldn't imagine anything more perfect. to have a home of his own with you, to come back to you every day and see your smiling face, it was a dream he never thought he'd get to have.

he described the house to you excitedly, his eyes lighting up with passion as he described the features. he told you about the cozy kitchen where he could prepare meals for you, the comfy living room where the two of you could curl up together on the couch, and the big bedroom that was just begging to be spent in.

he talked and talked, envisioning the domestic life the two of you were about to start.

"and now it's ours," he said proudly, a smile spreading across his face. "we have our own home, doll. our place. think about it! we'll get to wake up together every day, we'll have our own space to hang up our favorite pictures, we'll have a real kitchen where we can cook together."

he looked at you with a fond smile, his eyes tender. "it's like a dream, isn't it, doll? our own little slice of paradise, just for the two of us."

“you– you bought it already?”

dabi chuckled, giving you a firm squeeze. "not yet," he admitted, "i need toga to do that for me. but once she does, we'll be living there in no time. we're really doing this."

he spun you around to face him, pulling you as close as possible. "this is really happening, doll," he whispered, his voice filled with excitement and hope. "we're gonna have that normal life together that we always talked about."

you wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. god, you couldn't believe it. this was all so surreal. you never thought you would be able to have a normal life with him, and yet here you were. 

your heart fluttered at his words, and a smile broke out across your face. "yes, we are," you whispered back, pulling him down for a kiss. the future suddenly seemed so much brighter, and the two of you finally had something to look forward to.

#⊹ ࣪ ˖ greywrites #⊹ ࣪ ˖ abiditory #bnha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #mha #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #dabihawks #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi todoroki #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[mankillercalledbunny]

Hey gang can I get some Fantasy For Grown-ups recommendations (especially if they're available in audiobook format but NOT audible exclusives bc I use Libby)? I've been listening to a lot of T Kingfisher's fantasy lately all of which centers around grown ass adults but keeps a lot of the things I loved about fantasy growing up: fun and creative worldbuilding, competent protagonists, humour and clever dialogue, and intriguing narrative. I also like Pratchett, especially the Watch set and the Witches. I like stories that feel like they could conceivably have been a Dungeons and Dragons campain, or are subversions of a traditional fairytale. I don't mind romance subplots (as long as they're established well and don't feel tacked on because the author felt obligated) but I'm not one for Romance Novels specifically, which is why I don't use the term Adult Fantasy because for some reason people take that to mean porn with some dragons thrown in. I'm definitely up for some Sci-Fi in my fantasy, too!

Books I loved:

T Kingfisher

Nettle & Bone

Swordheart

Bryony and Roses

Thornhedge

Paladin's Grace (currently reading)

Other authors/works

The Watch Cycle (Terry Pratchett) and other Discworld

The Queen's Thief series by Megan Whalen Turner

Lamb by Christopher Moore

The Wolf and the Woodsman by Ava Reid

16 Ways To Defend A Walled City by K J Parker (and sequels)

The Abhorsen series by Garth Nix

Books I liked as a kid that are in the same vein

Redwall by Brian Jacques

Lockwood & co by Jonathan Stroud

Everything by Rick Riordon

The Fablehaven series by Brandon Mull

Please don't recommend anything by Sarah J Maas, Brandon Sanderson, or Leigh Bardugo, I've already got the big names on the list.

#am i insufficiently kinglike? #booklr #book recommendations #book reccs

[thedeviltohisangel]

“ You’re mine” for Cass and Bucky when things are getting a little rougher than normal (consensual of course) w/some pent up jealousy vibes?

DROP TO MY KNEES BLURB PROMPT ERA

you guys are literally so obsessed with this prompt i love it.

john really doesn't like cass' co-workers...basically a spanking fic

Cass was ethereally beautiful as he watched her talking to someone from the other side of the room. Everyone was seeking her out for conversation. To talk to her about the work she was currently doing, which John wasn't quite sure of, but also plenty that were lauding her case work from the war.

He could almost sense that it was beginning to be a bit much of her. She didn't know how to fully talk about her experiences over there yet. Didn't know how to take the compliments that they were lining up to offer her. Did her best to offer advice to the younger officers and paid all her extra attention to the women that approached her.

"Might go rescue the stunning doll," John said to Mary as he downed the rest of his drink. "Looks like one more conversation about her job is going to break her."

"She deserves all the praise. Earned it many times over," Mary replied confidently.

"Preaching to the choir." His wife's eyes flicked over to him for just a moment but the meaning was clear. "Mary, you make sure to call me as soon as you get home tonight and to tell that husband of yours to put his callouses to good use."

"John!" Mary was horrified at the implication but accepted his kiss on her cheek and his settling of her tab. In spite of her temporary surprise, she managed to reach forward and tighten his tie and straighten it out. He couldn't go swooping in to save their girl looking like a fool. Especially not after the last time he'd met all their colleagues and nearly set the bar ablaze.

"Night, Mary." John kissed the back of her hand in a dramatic bow, receiving her farewell in kind, before making his way over to his wife. "Excuse me," he said politely as he worked to shoulder his way through the crowd to reach Cass. And when he finally did, they both felt like they could breathe again.

"Hi," she whispered gratefully as her arms slipped under his suit jacket to wrap around his waist.

"Ready to go home, my love?" He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and held her cheek in his palm.

"Cassandra! Cassandra!" Her arms dropped from around him at the sound of her boss' voice.

"Sir?"

"Come with me, there's someone you have to meet." She had no chance to apologize to John before she was being dragged towards another stuffy suit.

"I want to be just like her when I grow up." To his left were a group of young adults, they looked fresh out of college. He smiled at the young female's words and knew they would mean everything to his wife when he told her later.

"You hear about that debrief of the Soviet spy she did last week? A legend." His brows furrowed. He hadn't heard about that.

"I heard she had him eating out of the palm of her hand in minutes. The Director even brought her a bottle of champagne to celebrate." Something icky was settling in his chest. Why was it that these strangers got to know so much more about his wife than he did? Why was such a large part of her life closed off to him?

-

"You were awfully quiet on the way home," Cass remarked as she followed John into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the fridge.

"Just was in shock the illustrious Cassandra Egan was in my car." She rolled her eyes as he took a solid gulp from the bottle and set it down on the island with a little force behind it. She stared at him from the other side.

"I hate the attention more than anyone don't hold it against me." John's face was pensive as he finished the other half of his drink and shrugged off his coat followed by his tie.

"The whole night I want to tell all of them to stop gawking over what is mine." The word sent a shiver down her spine. This was a game she most certainly knew how to play.

"You didn't like the line of men lining up to get a better look?" He growled and her knees buckled as he stalked over to stand in front of her.

"Forearms on the counter. Legs spread." Cass tried to contain her giddy excitement as she knew she was finally getting her way and did as he asked. "You're mine, Cassandra." She thinks she might combust.

"Yours." The cool night air hit her ass as he lifted the hem of her dress to her waist.

"Mine." Light at first. Her hips wiggled back to ask him to go harder. "Mine." Further back still. Until it stung with pleasure and she was dripping arousal down her leg.

Until a red handprint was tattooed to her cheeks.

#john egan #masters of the air #john egan fanfiction #masters of the air fanfiction #john egan x oc #answered #cass and bucky

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

It's pretty messed up how Griffe Noire and Toxinelle' were slowly dying from the result of misusing their miraculous and yet... we didn't seen any of the mark on Gabriel, it's as if the show said the duo has done more terrible thing than Gabriel and/or probably longer and the only reason Gabriel slowly dying is solely because of the cataclysm, not the consequences of misusing of the miraculous. Or! As some people said, intention matter and Gabriel's intention to revive Emily is considered not selfish that's why it's not considered "misusing".

I think it's just because they're teenagers and apparently teenagers doing wrong things is more worthy of punishment than adults doing wrong things, which does fit with the show's overall messaging, but is not a choice I'd ever make. I'm not against irredeemable teen characters, but they work best in shows without a major adult presence and/or shows where there's a really clear logic behind why the given character cannot be redeemed. In real life, you can't save everyone and that's honestly an important message to give kids, but it needs to be extremely well written and works best when done in contrast.

As I've mentioned before, I thought Chloè should have been used to teach Adrien a lesson about second chances and when to give them so that he's more mentally ready to face his father. In my ideal version, Chloè gets "redeemed" while Gabriel does not, but you could do the opposite, too. You'd just have to actually let Adrien try to help Chloè and fail or even just realize that his blind faith without accompanying action was never going to result in a nicer Chloè. (Note that I think this would only work if you tread carefully and present Chloè as a tragic figure OR if you remove her parental issues and make her way less nuanced)

Circling back to the Paris special: the slow poisoning thing they did with Griffe and Toxinelle was a bad move as it raises a lot of questions (like why didn't that happen to Felix or Chloe?) If the writers wanted them to have infinite uses, then they should have just been "adult" since that's apparently a thing you can be at their age...

Then again, I'm not a fan of the one use to infinite uses thing the show does. I think it should have been a gradual increase in the number of uses they have with adults just having a higher cap. Infinite uses really cuts down the stakes. I have no idea how they're going to make that work in the next season.

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Covenant- Chapter 12

Summary: With the five year anniversary of the attack on New York approaching, Odin and Fury come to the agreement that an arranged marriage between Asgard and Earth would show good faith toward all future interactions. When Odin refuses Jane’s candidacy, Agent Coulson is tasked with finding a suitable wife for the prince of Asgard.

Pairing: Loki x OFC Claire Fisher

Word count: 9.4k (prepare drinks and snackies as always)

Chapter warnings: misunderstandings, mutual pining, Claire and Loki both being stubborn idiots in love, angst, hurt w/o comfort

Taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @gigglingtiggerv2 @icytrickster17 @mysteriouslyfriedjellyfish @lokislilkitten @justjoanne242 @amlocked @ddmariegirl @mags-04-blog @sharris8 @meepycheep @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @the-fantasy-loving-angel @jaidenhawke @smolvenger @ladymischief11

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist! Thanks for coming along on this journey with me!

Read it on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51197938/chapters/129363727

The sitting room was silent apart from the faint sound of brush strokes on canvas.

          Two weeks had passed since they’d returned from their honeymoon, two weeks since they’d spoken. This was the first time they’d even been in the same room. News of her ousting had spread through the court, and Claire had spent her time hiding in her chambers because she was too embarrassed to show her face. It was like middle school all over again. How was this her life?

          A wave of emotions rose in her, making her tense in her seat. She clenched her fist in her lap, tamping it down as best she could. The painter had already chastised her twice to ‘soften’ her face, whatever the fuck that meant.

          How was she supposed to look meek and mild-mannered when she wanted to stab the owner of the hand on her shoulder? It wouldn’t be hard, just a flick of her wrist to pull her knife and just over a foot’s reach to stab his hand- accounting for the inches he’d pull back, it should only take 2.3 seconds.

          Maybe stabbing her husband through the hand wasn’t the smartest idea, but what was a girl to do when he’d treated her like he did? She was embarrassed, hurt, furious…

          Somehow, some way, she’d done something to piss Loki off. Instead of settling into post-honeymoon bliss as expected, he’d kicked her out on her ass. Despite turning over every possibility in her mind, Claire couldn’t figure out why. The workaholic in her demanded she update her file with Loki's latest BS, but of course the damn thing was missing.

         Of course, they’d had to explain everything to Odin and Frigga (separately, of course), which was just...mortifying. Claire would have preferred to type up an incident report, instead of dealing with the weighty, disapproving gazes of her in-laws. It’s not like she wanted Loki to lose his shit. She was as much in the dark as they were! Half the things he’d said didn’t make any sense.

          If he was so immature he couldn’t talk to her like an adult, that shouldn’t bother her. After all, their marriage had started as a political alliance, not some grand love affair, so was it really expected for them to have some whirlwind romance? They’d burned bright and fast and now the flame was reduced to smoking embers because he decided to be an enigmatic twat.

          Men were stupid. Feelings were stupid and she shouldn’t be surprised. Yet she was, and that infuriated her. She’d thought he was different. She’d let her walls down, left her heart unguarded and waved it off happily as Loki stole it right from under her nose.

          Then he gets drunk, throws half-cocked accusations in her face and kicks her out?

          So yes, he deserved to be stabbed for humiliating her. Claire hated that he could see her but she couldn’t see him. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

          “Relax,” Loki had the nerve to tell her, his hand on her shoulder annoying and heavy. “I can feel you tensing up.”

          “Oh, he speaks,” Claire sneered, eyes burning into the artist’s canvas in front of them. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

          “You wouldn’t want to ruin our wedding portrait, would you?”

          “Like you care,” Claire snarled, pulling out from under his grasp as she turned her angry stare at him at last. “Fuck this. And fuck you.”

          “Fuck me?” Loki laughed smugly. “I had no idea you were still amenable-”

          “Don’t be cute, you know what I mean,” Claire grabbed handfuls of the annoying puffy skirt she’d been forced into, readying to dart off into the proverbial night. “You show up here and your first words to me after two weeks of nothing are ‘relax’?” she elongated the word with a sneer. “Get bent. I’m Audi.”

         “Get back here!” Loki shouted at her retreating form.

         “You’re not the boss of me!” Claire sang over her shoulder, the tension bleeding out of her body as she exited the room and left him and the dumb portrait behind.

~~~~

         “Dear girl,” Frigga sighed over tea later that afternoon. Claire had learned that when Frigga started a sentence with ‘dear girl’, she’d done something royally stupid. “One is meant to sit for the duration of their wedding portrait.” Claire groaned internally. Of course she knew. Picking at the obnoxious flowery design on her teacup with her thumbnail, Claire sighed and lifted the flawless porcelain to her mouth.

         “Everything was fine until Loki opened his fat mouth,” she grumbled behind her tea cup. It hadn’t been, but Frigga didn’t need to know about Claire’s desire to stab her son. The first pow-wow had been bad enough. “He was a jerk.”

         “Be that as it may…” Frigga paused, her wise eyes looking aside as she reconsidered her next words. “It is imperative that outward appearances are kept. Despite your...living arrangement, it is best if you and Loki appear united.”

         “You want us to pretend.”

         “Seeing as your marriage is the primary vehicle for the alliance between this realm and Midgard, it would be unwise for your relationship to seem tumultuous. It might give others the idea that by extension, the alliance itself is unsteady.”

         “Hey, don’t look at me,” Claire balked. “I’m not the one who threw a tantrum. I was blindsided-”

         “I realize this, but-”

         “Do you?” Claire asked frankly, slamming her teacup into its matching saucer. “Because I’m not sure why it’s my job to suck up to the asshole who pulled a Brad Pitt.” Frigga pulled a face, clearly uncertain of what she meant. Instead of explaining the reference, Claire stopped short.

         He had, hadn’t he? He’d spent their honeymoon being cute and adorable and domestic with Claire, then decided he didn’t want her, and dumped her back at home to chase Angelina Jolie.

         Yrsa’s name joined Loki’s on the ‘to-be-stabbed’ list.

         Frigga, realizing that Claire was clearly going through something, put a lemon cake on her daughter-in-law’s plate.

         “Shall we discuss the latest palace gossip?” she asked as she straightened the napkin on her lap. Grateful for the change in topic, Claire shoved thoughts of Loki and Yrsa aside.

         “Yes, spill the tea!” Claire rubbed her hands together gleefully as she scooted to the edge of her seat. She would absolutely love to hear about someone else’s problems.

         “Pardon?” Frigga looked so confused Claire had to laugh.

         “It means to tell me everything.”

         “Ah,” Frigga chuckled. “I will of course share, but keep in mind darling that tea stains, so one ought to be careful where they spill it.”

~~~~

The next day

         “Finally gracing us with your presence again, Your Majesty?” Yrsa’s voice popped Claire’s anti-social bubble. The sound of her voice grated against Claire’s very soul, like ten thousand nails on a chalkboard or a children’s choir. Claire had hoped her re-entry would slip by uneventfully in the bustle of the afternoon tea, but thank Odin Yrsa was there to point her out. She’d just wanted a break from the hundreds of thank you notes she was slogging through. All hopes for a quick snack and a hasty exit were dashed as she turned to face her frenemy.

         “Yes, I thought I’d try for some decent company today,” she replied airily, as though she didn’t want to stab Yrsa in her beady eyes. “Have you seen any?” Their bickering had gained the attention of one of the other young ladies, whose name escaped Claire’s memory.

         “Perhaps your husband can keep you entertained,” Yrsa suggested, plastering on a false smile. “That is, if he isn’t bored to death of you already.”

         “I can’t speak to his boredom, but I do know he prefers my company to yours. That is saying something, don’t you think?” Claire mimicked Yrsa’s smile before plucking a delectable looking pastry from the annoying woman’s plate. She considered the pastry, her warm fingers seeping into the colorful sticky glaze.

         “I can fetch you a plate if you desire, Your Highness.” the other young lady offered, as Claire pinched off a morsel. It was quite delicious- apple and cinnamon and sugar warring for dominance on her tongue.

         “That’s very kind, but I’ve lost my appetite. Here, Yrsa, why don’t you finish this instead, since you’re so hungry for my sloppy seconds.”

         The joke was most likely lost on the sheltered ladies of Asgard, but it pleased Claire to make it, so she considered it a win. She pilfered a pastry from the ornate table display and trudged back to her room to finish writing the thank you notes.

~~~~

         Just over an hour (and a severe hand cramp) later, Claire ventured out again to deliver the box of completed thank you notes to Frigga’s salon.

         “Claire!” Frigga actually sounded happy to see her, which was a welcome change. “How do you fare today?”

         “I’m fine, just recovering from a headache. Here are all the thank you notes,” Claire tilted the box to show the stuffed envelopes. “Where would you like them?”

         “Anywhere is fine dear, come, have a seat,” Frigga patted the open space beside her. “Would you like some tea?”

         Claire was about to answer when the double doors were opened to reveal Loki.

         “And what do you know, my headache is back,” Claire shot to her feet as Loki stepped inside. “I’d love to stay, but I don’t want to.”

         “You don’t have to leave on my account.”

         “Oh no, I’m not doing it to be nice, I’m doing it because I don’t want to be in the same room as you,” Claire said sweetly. “Sorry if that’s confusing, but I don’t have the time or the crayons to spell it out for you.”

         “Can you be more of a child?”

         “Can you be a bigger twat?”

         “I beg your pardon?!”

         “I’m not exactly in a forgiving mood today. Do you think you could muster up enough of your precious time to sign your name on these?” she shoved the box into his chest, delighting in the slight ‘oof!’ it caused. Loki’s eyes scanned the stuffed envelopes with distrust.

         “What are these?”

         “They’re thank you notes to our wedding guests,” Claire said. “Remember, that thing we did just a little while ago? With the parade and the hundreds of people-”

         “Yes, thank you, I recall.” Loki hissed, pulling the box from her hands forcefully.

         “Great! I did literally everything else, so all you have to do is scribble your name. Okay? I’m out.”

         “You could stay for tea!” Frigga called after her.

         “No thanks!” Loki set the box aside, taking a heavy seat across from his mother.

         “I can feel your judgment from here,” he sighed. “Say it.”

         “No judgment,” Frigga replied breezily as she poured him a cup of tea. “Though I did feel a sudden chill in the air.” Loki sagged against the seat.

         “Mother please-”

         “I am simply confused as to what happened between you,” Frigga chided. “You were so enamored with each other, from all accounts your honeymoon was-”

         “Mother-”

         “Eventful,” Frigga sipped at her tea primly. “Yet now you can barely stand to be in a room together! What has happened?”

         “Nothing.” Loki hissed.

         “You are not the only one who can sense lies, dear boy. And do mind your tone, you may be grown but I am still your mother,” Frigga said sternly, setting her cup down with a heavy clink. “The poor girl is isolated. She barely leaves her chambers, and she does not mingle with the other ladies of court. People are talking.”

         “That is what they do-”

         “Something happened. I have minded my business and given you time to address it, but clearly you cannot or will not. Whatever the case may be, it cannot continue. The alliance is far too important. Am I understood?”

         Loki sighed heavily, resignation already weighing on his shoulders.

         “Yes, Mother.”

~~~~

          Not to be outdone, Frigga forced them to act like a normal, loving couple by planning outings for them to see and be seen. Their social calendars ripened like spring fruit trees overnight, full to bursting with events.

          Under the guise of introducing Claire to the more banal aspects of their way of life, Loki and Claire toured the city together, exploring production warehouses and workshops of various industries, granaries, farms and even slaughterhouses. They attended plays, cut ribbons for new buildings, visited academic workshops; any and every event Frigga could find for them to attend.

          Though both of them were guarded and polite, it was nice to spend time together again. Not that either of them would admit it. Claire still refused to eat meals in the great hall or socialize with anyone apart from Ragna, Sif and Frigga.

          They’d been at it for weeks, and the constant pretending was taking a toll on both of them.

          Claire’s only respite was during the mornings while Loki was in meetings, and though she longed to work out her anger on the training field, she was conveniently accosted by the dress maker, or Frigga, or someone else.

          Claire was half-tempted to light the bat signal and get the fuck out of dodge, but she was convinced any plea for help she sent out would be intercepted before it left the palace.

          Their destination for the day was the boat docks, where the harbor master had docked some of his finest boats for Claire to view.

          They passed through the busy marketplace, Claire’s attention laser focused on the path ahead. Instead of stopping to gander at the wares as she had during previous visits, Claire seemed dedicated to remaining out of his reach, and therefore out of range to speak to him.

          “We are meant to appear-”

          “I heard your mom. Doesn’t mean I want to walk next to you.”

          “Be that as it may-” Claire wheeled around, glare already in place.

          “Are you displeased with my performance, Your Highness?” she asked heatedly. “Are my acting skills not up to your standard?”

          “I said nothing of the sort.”

          “Great! Then let me continue my angry walk in peace. I promise to be on my best behavior when we get there.” Before he could say another word, she’d whirled around and stomped off, leaving him just as angry as he was a moment ago.

          True to her word, Claire was all charm and smiles when they met the harbor master. She was polite and asked engaging questions as they toured an older fishing vessel and newer models with updated engines.

          The last vessel was one meant for battle. Designed for warfare on both water and in the air, it was smaller and more sleek in body.

          “This particular vessel has just been docked for repairs,” the harbor master was explaining as Loki joined them on deck. The engine lay scattered in pieces, the bulkhead exposed to the salty air. “The pilot reported he believes there is a connection issue of some kind between the battery and the engine. It will start, but the engine stalls when we try to pilot it.”

          “So it turns on but dies when you put it in gear?” Claire asked.

          “Exactly, Your Highness. Do you have experience with sailing?”

          “No, not at all,” Claire shook her head. “But I do know a few things about jet engine repair. Do you mind if I take a closer look?” Claire asked, stepping closer to Loki to reach for a socket wrench.

          “I would be honored, Your Highness.”

          Loki half expected her to swing at him with the wrench, but she surprised him by climbing below the manifest to get a closer view of the engine. It was an interesting image, her lithe form folded in half, her full skirts billowing out from beneath the grimy manifest.

          “Is there a light?”

          “Of course,” the harbor master offered a lantern, holding it aloft to allow her to see better. “Did you work on engines often on Midgard?” he asked politely.

          “Not extremely often, but I was required to learn how to complete small repairs,” Claire replied. “This looks like it belongs in a plane.”

          “This vessel works in the water as well as the air, Your Highness,” the harbor master said with pride. “She is a war vessel.”

          “Wait, it sails and flies?”

         “Yes, of course.”

         “That’s so cool. I’d love to see it in action,” Claire smiled, the first genuine smile Loki had seen on her face since their honeymoon. The sight warmed him, making him long for simpler days. “I have an idea what the issue could be.”

         “How?” Loki asked before he could stop himself.

         “An engine is an engine,” Claire replied. “Cutting out when you shift it into gear makes me think there’s a corroded cable. It’s only when switching into gear, right?”

         “Yes, Your Highness.”

         “How could that possibly tell you it’s a cable?” Loki asked skeptically.

         “If it’s like the engines I’ve seen, there’s a switch lever that should only activate when you take the engine out of gear, and it should only take maybe a fraction of a second. But if the engine cuts out going into gear, there’s something stopping that lever from doing what it’s supposed to. The engine is connected to the transom via cables, so I bet if we open it up to the transom we’ll see the problem.” The harbor master opened a hidden panel in the deck, exposing a tangle of wires.

         Amid the seemingly endless tangle of wires, one stood out.

         “Called it!” Claire cried. “Corroded,” she said to Loki, pointing at the eroded bulkheads holding the wire in place. “Super corroded. Just needs replaced and you’ll be flying-er...sailing...again in no time.”

         “Well done, Your Highness!” the harbor master praised. “Perhaps you’d consider joining the fleet?”

         “Sure, why not?” Claire laughed as the harbor master helped her to her feet. “I’m sure you could have fixed the problem without me.”

         “All the same, I am truly grateful for the help! We’re very fortunate to have you here in Asgard.”

         “I’m glad someone feels that way,” Claire shook the mans hand. “Thank you again for the excellent tour, and the chance to get my hands dirty.”

         “It was my honor! Feel free to come back at any time.” the harbor master saw them to the entrance to the marina, offering them both a warm farewell.

         “I feel a little bad about getting my dress dirty, but this was fun,” Claire said, her face falling as she met Loki’s gaze. “Sort of. See you around.”

         “Let me escort you back at least,” Loki offered his arm, his mood souring even further when she didn’t accept the gesture. “For appearances sake.”

         “Fine.”

         They walked in silence for the entire way back to the palace. Each time he spied her drawn expression, all of Loki’s attempts to form any praise weighed on his tongue like lead.

The next day

          Loki’s morning was consumed by meetings, but the afternoon found him and Claire in a menagerie, surrounded by exotic creatures from various realms. Claire’s sour attitude melted away into pure fascination as she gawked at hulking howler monkey-like animals with fur such a dark ruby red it looked like congealed blood.

          Birds like peacocks with terrifying, razor-sharp beaks drew her attention from the plush, fuzzy sheep with wool that cast sparks when they bleated.

          “That’s a capybara!” Claire squealed with childlike delight, giggling when the familiar looking creature looked at her. She knelt by the enclosure eagerly. “How in the hell is there a capybara here?”

          “The first female of this creature was brought to Asgard by Prince Thor in 1162 AD,” a nearby attendant stated. “The first male arrived shortly after- they are pack animals, you see. The creature you see today is a product of their offspring.”

          “Wicked.” Claire cooed, wiggling her fingers at the capybara as she stood upright. She wandered from the group, ending up inside a cool, shaded building at a display of extravagantly colored fish in small, glass bowls. Fiery reds, iridescent greens and blues and purples...each more beautiful than the last. Claire was awestruck by the beauty of the small fish, content to simply stand and stare as the light played off the colorful scales with each flick of a fish fin.

          As Claire watched, a small child raced over to the display, shrieking with glee as it tapped on several of the bowls in quick succession, clearly disturbing the fish but not caring a bit.

          “Don’t do that,” she scolded the child. “You’re scaring them.”

          “I want to see the colors!” the child whined, stomping his foot impatiently.

          “You will, just be-” the child hit the glass bowl in front of him harder, knocking it into another and setting off a cascade of glass hitting glass, bowl hitting bowl. A kaleidoscope of fish fell to the floor, their exquisite fins useless in the piles of pulverized glass and puddles of water. “Patient,” Claire said in horror. “Shit!”

          “Fear not, Your Majesty,” the closest attendant was at her elbow in an instant, dismissing her concern. “We have other fish.” The attendant snapped her fingers twice, gesturing for someone to come clean the mess.

          “But-” Claire watched the beautiful fish writhe in the air, their short lives coming to a swift and sad end as the child screamed and cried and stomped his feet. The injustice of it burned her- the fish, in their miserable little bowls, condemned to die for a spoiled child’s entertainment. And when the people left, and there was no one around to see them, the fish became nothing but a distant memory to be revisited when it was convenient.

          She was just like the fish. Trapped in her own little bubble, just waiting to be trotted out for the entertainment of others. Even the harbor master, who’d been so grateful for her help just the day before, likely would not spare a thought to what her life was like when she was not around.

          “Claire?” Loki’s touch at her elbow made her flinch, and she turned to hide the horrified look on her face.

          “I need to leave.” she croaked, shoving past him to flee the building. Her surroundings blurred as she fought back tears, desperate to make her escape. Outside, Claire was assaulted by the loud noises of the people around her and turned down a narrow path alongside the building. Her frantic steps brought her to a hidden area by the back entrance, likely a place for workers to hide from the demands of their job. She sank onto a bench near the closed door, grateful for a place to cry without being seen.

          Claire buried her face in her trembling hands and let her tears fall. Hot tears brought little relief to the burning in her face or the ache behind her ribs.

          Movement to her right made her stiffen. It could only be one person.

          “God, why are you here?!” she cried angrily. Loki looked infuriatingly calm as he sat on the bench beside her.

          “You are upset.”

          “Yeah no shit, Sherlock.” Claire sniffled.

          “Why?”

          “Why do you care?”

          “Why are you upset?” Loki repeated, ignoring her question.

          “Because apparently, I have more in common with zoo animals than I’m comfortable realizing,” Claire spat. “All the people we met on these outings were only nice to me because I’m Asgard’s first princess in an age. I’m a point of fascination! I’m an abstract concept! I don’t matter to these people! They only appreciate me when they can see me, or-or tap on the glass of my enclosure to make me do tricks!”

          “It is a hard lesson to learn.”

          “How do you deal with this?”

          “Practice,” Loki replied gently. “Come, we should go.”

          “I’m not going back in there.” Claire pulled away from his reach.

          “We’re not,” Loki replied. “We’re going to get you something to eat.”

          “Can you stop?” Claire pleaded. “For one second, just stop acting like you give a shit about me! Please.”

         “As you wish.” Loki said quietly. He waited as Claire pulled herself together enough to leave the secluded bench.

         Claire felt hollow inside. She walked on autopilot, letting Loki lead her to a restaurant. Someone else ordered her meal, someone else tasted the fried sausage and potatoes on her plate. The meal passed in silence.

         “I can’t do this anymore,” she announced as they were about to leave the table. “I’m done pretending.”

         “Fine,” Loki thankfully agreed. They weren’t accomplishing anything with the outings anyway, except to make each other more miserable. “My mother was right about you appearing withdrawn. You must at least make an effort.”

         “Fine.” She’d find something to occupy the rest of her very long life.

~~~~

          The crowds parted easily as Loki made his way to the fighting arenas. Tucked away in a seedy part of the town, the open-air fighting arenas were a popular form of entertainment for the lower class as well as the nobles. Brawlers and gamblers ran amok there, running a dark underground where down-of-their-luck folks could either enrich their lives or ruin them. It was no place for a princess.

Unfortunately, it was precisely where the princess of Asgard was.

Loki had heard the rumors of his wife spending her days drinking, cheering on the brawlers, and betting money from his coffers. He was on his way there now to catch her in the act. He could already hear the roar of the crowds cheering for the day’s fighters. Loki pushed his way through the throngs of people, forcing his way toward the wooden stands. The arenas were simple grass fields with wooden seating built up around them for the nobles to use. The lower class viewers crowded into the spaces they could- in between the seating, in front of it; some enterprising people climbed to the top of the seating and sat upon it. Vendors trawled through the crowds, flogging their respective wares.

It was loud, crowded, and hot, as the fields lay in direct sun. Loki finally reached the stands, scanning the crowd for his wife. He spotted Volstagg and Thor in the seats, sitting side by side and red-faced from the heat and the beer they’d already consumed in the early morning.

Another bout began and the crowd erupted into loud cheers. Loki finally spotted Claire, a few rows in front of Thor and Volstagg at the front of their stand. The Midgardian woman held a tankard in her hand and was cheering on the fighters as they circled each other in the ring.

He made his way over to her, rage building as he walked through the crowd. People made way for him as best they could, but it was so crowded he was unable to make a clear path. At last he reached her, cheering obnoxiously for the brawlers inside the arena.

“What in Hel's name are you doing here?”

“I was having fun.” Claire said bitterly.

“You’re drunk.” Loki’s fingers wrapped around her bicep as he pulled her toward him.

“And you’re annoying,” Claire hissed, ripping her arm from his grasp. “Is there a reason for your visit?” Loki said nothing, merely clenching his jaw in anger. “Fine,” Claire seethed. “You have your business, and I have mine. It’s bad enough I have to deal with Yrsa and her smug fucking face or the gossip that you’re already bored of me and only want me around long enough to knock me up. You promised me it wouldn’t be like this,” Bitter tears stung her eyes and she looked away angrily. “Yet here we are. Ever since we got back from our honeymoon, you’ve pulled a one-eighty. You couldn’t keep your hands off me and now you barely even look at me. But now all of a sudden you care what I'm up to?” she scoffed. “This is what I’m up to. When I’m not trussed up to be gawked at, I while my days away drinking and gambling. Hold on, I can’t pass this opportunity up-” she turned back to the fight, fists beating on the ramparts as she cheered. “KICK HIM IN THE BALLS!” She shouted, cheering when her chosen favorite knocked his opponent to the ground.

“Charming.”

“Eat me,” Claire hissed. “You told me to make an effort so here I am. This is my best effort.”

“If this is your best effort...” Loki said with a forced smile as the members of the crowd closest to them began to stare. “This is hardly an appropriate venue.”

“This is the fight you wanna have? Okay fine- Thor's here. Oh look, so is Volstagg. Why is it okay for them but not for me?”

“I am not having this conversation with you.”

“Okay great! Now go away and stop bothering me.” Claire turned away from him. Loki couldn't decide if he was appalled or amused by her outlandish behavior. His new wife was vivacious and animated, that much was clear as she shouted encouragements and pounded on the ramparts with her fists. Yet it was obvious a deep sadness resided in her as well. The tears that sparkled on her eyelashes were not the tears of someone who’d sought to use him. She was genuinely distraught that he’d forsaken her. Loki watched as she cheered the victor, wine sloshing from her goblet as she celebrated, and decided he had perhaps reacted too harshly. But he was not quick to forgive- whatever the reason, she had chosen to keep the folder secret from him. Leaving her to her drunken distraction, Loki slipped into the crowd and disappeared.

~~~~

Claire sighed, taking another sip of wine as she stared up at the stars. The Asgardians were having yet another feast but she was in no mood to party. She’d eaten her fill and excused herself to the courtyard, resigning herself to wandering outside until enough time had passed she could make an exit unnoticed.

Potted palm trees had been brought in for decoration, lining the open air hallways between the columns and lending a sense of privacy to the courtyard within. Whoever was inside the courtyard was clearly drunk, their chatter and laughter far too loud to suggest sobriety.

          “Brother, you must control your wife,” she heard Thor say playfully. “The nobles are starting to complain she is stealing all their money at the fighting pits.” He guffawed. Inside the courtyard, Loki rolled his eyes.

          “Controlling Claire would be as easy as putting a leading rein on a bilgeshnipe,” Claire heard him reply. “I have no desire to do either. Besides, she isn’t harming anyone-”

          “No but she is odd, and people think she does not respect our ways.” Volstagg shrugged.

          “Definitely odd.” Hogun agreed.

          “Personally I think she’s quite lovely,” Volstagg added. “Very bold, that one.”

          “Being unorthodox is not a crime,” Loki replied shortly. “I like her that way.” Thor gasped loudly.

          “Did Loki just admit to liking his wife?!” He asked theatrically. “Loki! I'm so proud of you!”

          “Shut up, you great oaf,” Loki pushed his brothers hands away. “She'll hear you and I shall never live it down.”

          “Too late,” Claire finally announced her presence and joined the group on the terrace. “Hi honey.” She cast a wink in Loki's direction.

          “Hello.” Loki had the good sense to look flustered by her arrival.

          “So who's complaining about me?” she asked as she sat beside Loki on one of the stone benches in their circle.

          “No one of import,” Loki replied. “Do not worry on it.” Thor and his friends were drinking and carrying on, and paid her little mind while she and Loki sat in stony silence.

“How does married life suit you, sister? Are you and Loki getting along?” Thor suddenly cackled, thinking his joke clever. Everyone in the palace knew they were not. They’d not spoken in days, not since their argument amid the crowd at the fighting pits.

“That would require him to spend more than five seconds with me.” Claire said sourly, sipping her wine as she glared at Loki.

“Lasting longer than usual, brother?” Thor teased, slapping Loki on the shoulder as he laughed uproariously. Claire rolled her eyes as Loki sighed angrily.

“Our marriage bed is none of your concern, Thor,” the dark prince said heatedly. “Must you be so crass?”

“Tis only a jest-”

“A disgusting one. Apologize at once.” Loki demanded. Thor held up his hands in apology, beer spilling from his tankard onto the stones underfoot.

“Apologies, sister, I was out of line.” Claire sighed, her happy mood soured.

“It’s whatever, man,” she replied, letting her glass thunk on the bench loudly before getting to her feet. “I’m out.”

“Whatever you’ve done brother, you should fix it.” Thor tried to be quiet, but he was far too drunk to be inconspicuous.

“There’s nothing to fix, Thor,” Claire corrected him. “Loki wants nothing to do with me, and the feeling is mutual. Unless something has changed in the last 24 hours?” her blue eyes pierced Loki as she looked directly at him. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Good night.” she got up to leave, and Loki’s stomach sank.

“Claire-” Loki caught her by the wrist.

“I said good night!” She snapped at him, pulling away from him roughly. Dejected, Loki let her stomp away from the courtyard.

~~~~

Loki spent the next day searching for her, but she eluded him. Either everyone in the castle deigned to keep her concealed from him or she was more clever than he gave her credit for. She failed to make an appearance at all three of the daily meals, yet her chambers were empty each time he sought her out there. He returned to his study, furiously cutting through the mountain of work on his desk. He emerged hours later, near midnight, for a snack and made his way to the kitchens.

“What is this?” Loki asked loudly as he discovered Hogun, Volstagg and Fandral in a far corner of the great hall. Claire was hopping from chair to chair, table to table, giggling madly as she went. Fandral was passed out (or dead- which seemed better in Loki’s mind), his head upon the table and his arm hanging loose, his tankard barely touching the floor as it hung from his loose grip. Hogun and Volstagg looked on, both laughing bawdily as Claire floundered for balance.

“Another!” Claire yelled as she finished her drink, throwing her tankard to the floor in true Asgardian style.

“No-DO NOT give her another!” Loki yelled at the nearest servant before turning his ire on the drunken warriors. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t do to herself,” Volstagg assured the prince. “She asked to try it.”

“Try what?” Loki hissed as Claire noticed him. She waved cheerfully from her table before hopping to another, landing precariously near the edge and laughing as she regained her balance.

“Asgardian mead…” Volstagg admitted nervously, wilting under Loki’s murderous gaze.

“WHAT?!” he thundered. “Are you mad?! She’s mortal!”

“Loki!” Claire chirped, making her way toward him with a beaming smile on her face. “Hi!” she giggled loudly as she tried to keep her balance amidst the various sized dishes she was stepping around.

“Hello,” Loki replied gently, lunging forward to catch her when she tripped and fell. Somehow Claire managed to land on her back between stacks of dishes with her head hanging over the edge of the table. “Are you alright?” he asked over Claire’s laughter.

“How are you alive right now?!” she giggled exuberantly, summarily disregarding both his question and concern, as well as the fact that she was now upside down.

“What?” Loki looked to Hogun and Volstagg for help, who both shrugged.

“The floor is lava, apparently.” Hogun supplied stoically.

“She wanted to play a game, and when we asked her what she wanted to play she just jumped up there and started yelling about it.” Volstagg laughed.

“She’s drunk! Complete and utter idiots, the both of you! Giving a mortal Asgardian mead,” Loki scoffed. “Let’s get you to bed.” He said to Claire, setting her upright so she could stand.

“No I can’t, I’ll melt!” she objected, shaking her head as she bent her knees to keep her legs from touching the floor.

“I’ll carry you then, come on.” Loki urged, scooping her into his arms bridal style.

“But it’s not safe for you either. Lava is really hot and melts everything, especially Frost Giants! I don’t want you to melt.” Claire warned him, her eyes earnest and unfocused in her inebriated state.

“I’ll be careful,” Loki assuaged her. “How much did you give her?!” he growled at Volstagg.

“Not much, just…um…” Volstagg stuttered.

“Three pints.” Hogun replied sheepishly.

“Oh, no wonder she’s raving like a lunatic!” Loki cried, hefting Claire higher in his arms.

“Loki. Loki!” the small woman tugged on his shirt, trying to get his attention.

“What?” Loki asked, trying to keep his patience with her.

“You’re standing in lava.”

“Oh for-!” Loki gave a long-suffering sigh, stepping onto a different color of stone to appease her. “Better?”

“Yes!” Claire smiled happily. “That color is safe.”

“Fine, I shall stay on that color,” Loki promised. “Anything else I should know?” he asked as Claire snuggled into his shoulder.

“Hhmhh.” She mumbled, her eyes falling closed as Loki carried her from the hall.

~~~~

“Claire. Claire wake up, just for a minute.” Loki urged his sleeping wife after he’d placed her on their bed.

“Don’t wanna.” She replied obstinately, her eyes squinted angrily.

“You need to get changed. You can’t sleep in that,” Loki rummaged through his armoire for something suitable for her to sleep in, only to find that she’d fallen back asleep when he turned around. “This is ridiculous,” he groaned. What could possibly have possessed her to drink so much? And Asgardian mead, no less. She’d be lucky to be functioning again by next week. But his wife-turned-toddler was incapable of caring for herself at the present, thus leaving him to do the work. Sighing, he decided just to take her clothes off himself and let the little fool sleep.

He gingerly peeled her dress and slip from her form, carefully setting them aside to be laundered. He was able to partially turn down the sheets for her, so that her legs rested on top of the quilt while the rest of her lay on the mattress. He’d just begun to wrangle her lower half into a pair of pajama bottoms when she started to wriggle and make nonsensical words. “Figures you wake up now,” He sighed. “Get under the blankets if you’re cold.” He suggested as she tossed and turned.

“Not cold, hoooot,” she replied, pushing away the proffered clothing and curling up into a ball. “Loki?” she raised her head to look at him as he started pulling off his own clothing; any thought of dressing her for bed abandoned.

“Hmm?”

“Do you have any chocolaaaate?” Claire asked with a laugh. Loki rolled his eyes and turned away from her to fetch his own night clothes. “I wanna play the chocolate game.” Claire giggled flirtatiously.

“The chocolate game?” Loki wanted nothing more than to lose himself in delectable debauchery, but Claire was in no state for such fun and he still didn’t trust her. “Claire, we’re not playing the chocolate game right now.”

“Why not?” Claire pouted. “Don’t you want to play the chocolate game with me?”

“Claire, you’re drunk. We’re not playing the chocolate game. Maybe once you’ve had some sleep.”

“You’re no fun. Come on, just once!”

“I’m quite fun, thank you very much,” Loki replied. Claire scoffed, and Loki rolled his eyes. “Fine, one round of the chocolate game. But if you get sick I won’t feel sorry for you.”

“Yes you will.” Claire giggled as he summoned a brick of chocolate he’d stored in his pocket dimension. She was still flushed, and feeling oppressed by the heat. She sat up (and instantly regretted it) and clumsily pulled her bra over her head and tossed it at her husband. He gave a soft grunt of surprise as it struck the back of his head, and Claire giggled madly, flopping back down onto her pillow.

“Claire…” Loki sighed as he walked to his side of the bed, trying not to stare at her as she lay there with only her panties on. Her full breasts were staring him right in the face and Norns, were they lovely. “Come on, let’s get you tucked in.” his chivalrous side took over before he let himself get distracted and he was somehow able to reach over her and pull the blankets fully up to her chin without so much as peeking at her pert, pierced nipples. He laid down himself, the cool sheets soothing him instantly. Loki was reminded that drunk or not, Claire was surprisingly fast (and strong) for a mortal. He had barely settled in when she pounced on him, tangling her fingers in his hair and claiming his mouth with hers. His body responded before his brain did- his arms wound themselves around her; his long fingers tracing down her spine to the scrap of material she wore around her hips. She was so small compared to him, so unlike the other women he’d known. Here, in his bed and in his grasp, she seemed almost…delicate. His hand slid down her body easily; her skin was so soft. Gods, the feel of her! Claire nibbled his lower lip, drawing a growl from him and she moaned into his mouth.

“Loki…”

“Gods, I wish I could have you.” Loki sighed as Claire hitched her leg over his hip, his hands flexing unconsciously with want when she ground herself against him. He gave a choked noise of surprise at the pleasure of it; his brain scrambling to reconcile this wanton woman with the unruly one who shouted and threw things at him.

“Why can’t you?” said woman asked breathlessly, nipping at his jaw as he began to extract himself from her grip. Her hips ground against him, pulling a groan from his lips. She was making Loki forget himself and it frightened him. “I want you.”

“For one, you’re drunk,” he reached for her hands, meaning to pull them from his hair. “Claire, stop,” he said calmly when she whined in protest. “Go to sleep.” His unease leapt to the forefront of his mind, taking command of his actions as he cast a sleeping spell; desperate for a chance to calm himself.

“I like playing the chocolate game with you.” Claire muttered dreamily as she rolled away, leaving Loki frustrated and wide awake. He wasn’t sure what troubled him more: the fact that his wife was a lustful drunk or his response to her attentions. He was supposed to be avoiding exactly this type of situation, not playing into them. With a huff, Loki turned away from his wife and stared dejectedly at the wall until sleep claimed him. On the bedside table, the bar of chocolate lay forgotten.

~~~~

Claire woke up in the middle of the night, groaning as her head swam. It was stifling in the room and the heavy blanket wasn’t helping. She kicked off the blanket and sighed. It was still too hot. She looked to the side, barely able to discern Loki’s sleeping form from the darkness. She rolled onto her side and took deep breaths as her stomach lurched. Loki lay unmoving still, unperturbed by her movements. His back was to her, his ebony hair splayed out on the pillow. She reached out to touch his bare skin, finding it cool to the touch. A soft sigh of relief escaped her; he could cool her down! She inched closer to him, trying to avoid waking him. Within a few movements she was close enough to press her chest against his back. She draped an arm over him and pulled his coolness closer.

“Can I help you?” his velvety voice startled her.

“I’m really hot Loki. Touch me please.” Claire pleaded, pressing herself against him more firmly. Loki’s eyes shot open in surprise. Not again. He groaned internally. She’s going to drive me mad.

“You’re already touching me. Why is my involvement required?”

“Because you can use magic and make it colder…” Claire mumbled, pressing her scorching cheek to his shoulder blade. She groaned as his cool marble skin took the edge off. She nuzzled into him farther, flattening her palm against his chest and sighing contentedly as she closed her eyes.

“Did it occur to you that I am sleeping and therefore unwilling to cast a spell for your pleasure?”

“If you were sleeping you wouldn’t be talking to me.” Claire mumbled into his back.

“People talk in their sleep.” Loki argued, straining his neck to try to see her.

“Not coherently,” One of her slim fingers poked him gingerly in the chest, pointing out his flawed argument. “Pleeeease Loki, I’m burning up.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have thrown you into that lava.” Loki grouched.

“Not funny,” Claire grunted. “Make with the coldness hubby.” She commanded sleepily.

“I am not your manservant, woman. You’ll have to find comfort elsewhere.” He pulled away from her, settling onto his stomach.

“But you’re cold and I’m not,” Claire hummed petulantly, following his body with her own. She offered a sleepy grin when he turned and glared at her before she could lay herself over him. “Please Loki?”

“No,” Loki said sharply. “Go to sleep.”

“What if…I gave you the rest of the chocolate?” Claire had no idea what to use as a bargaining chip with him, but she had to try. She was positive she’d burst into flame if he didn’t help her.

“I thankfully do not suffer the same dependency on chocolate that you do,” Loki shot her down. “You have nothing that I want.” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Well you do, so…what’s your price?” Claire asked groggily. Loki chuckled.

“You really are desperate aren’t you?” he asked.

“Sure am. I’m sweating like a whore in church over here.” Loki let out a sharp laugh at Claire’s response.

“I’m not familiar with that phrase, but I assume you’re trying to convince me to help you.” He said.

“Bingo. Is it working?” Claire peeped an eye open at his impassive face. Loki sighed wearily, pushing his hair back from his face before settling onto his back.

“Until you fall asleep; no longer.” He held an arm out in invitation, growling as Claire clumsily situated her drunken self beside him.

“You love me and you know it,” Claire sassed him as she settled against him with a yawn. “You just won’t admit it.” Her hair tickled his neck as she fidgeted, her breath breezing over his nipple as her head came to rest on his chest. Her arm folded lackadaisically atop his torso and her leg hooked over his. Loki said nothing, her words settling deep into his brain. He didn’t love her…did he? She was clingy and annoying, always wanting to be around him. A nuisance, to be sure, but was it really a bad thing that she truly wanted to spend time in his presence? He was trying so hard to keep distance between them, but he couldn’t deny he still felt the same intense pull toward her. He would do this one thing for her, just so she would go back to sleep and leave him alone. He carefully redacted his glamour, allowing his natural coldness to seep through his Asgardian visage just enough to cool her off but not enough to cause her harm. Odin would probably make certain he’d never see daylight again if any harm should come to his precious new daughter. Claire sighed contentedly and squeezed him against herself, her hand drifting lazily up and down his chest.

“Happy?” he asked pointedly as he wrapped his cold arm around her bare back. Claire hummed happily in response, kneading his skin gently like a cat. The repeated motion of her hand on his chest relaxed Loki, making his eyelids droop sleepily. He kept jerking awake, stubbornly trying to fight against his fatigue and her soothing movements.

~~~~

Loki was startled awake when the sun’s hellishly bright rays hit his face. He blearily opened his eyes to see Astrid, pulling open the curtains of his bedroom windows.

“Norns Astrid, what are you doing?” he grunted in sleepy frustration. “What time is it?”

“Opening the curtains, Your Highness. It’s approaching midday and Prince Thor sent me to fetch you,” Astrid replied dryly, taking in Loki and Claire’s sleeping arrangement with a bemused look. “Should I inform him you are otherwise occupied?”

“Not funny, Astrid,” Loki snapped, trying to escape from beneath Claire without waking her. In her drunken state, she’d latched onto him like an octopus. “Tell Thor I will join him shortly, but I require a bath first.”

“Yes Your Highness.” Astrid gave a curtsy and disappeared from the room to start his bath. Loki sighed, knowing the gossip that would surely come from this.

Slowly, he managed to wiggle out from under Claire, replacing his body with his pillow as he went. He hoped that would mollify her, and that she would sleep until he was gone. When she woke, it would be to a massive hangover and Loki was in no mood to deal with it. Then again, he knew she would not be easy to deal with if she was nursing said hangover.

Astrid called him to the bath just as he whispered the spell to take away Claire’s hangover and he quickly pulled away from his wife to get cleaned up.

His plan to flee before she woke up was foiled when Claire opened the bathroom door, disheveled and furious and breathtakingly beautiful in his clothes.

“Why did you bring me here?” she asked as she leaned against the doorway.

“You were drunk.” Loki supplied pathetically.

“I would have been fine in my own room. Severely hungover, but fine. So again, why am I here and not hungover in the slightest?”

“You were acting like a lunatic and I thought it best to keep an eye on you.” Loki shrugged.

“Uh huh,” Claire huffed. “You always make out with people you’re babysitting?”

“You took me by surprise.” Loki argued. Claire laughed harshly.

“And here I thought you were a god. Far superior and smarter than little ol’ me,” she scoffed. “You’re so full of shit.”

“You ask too much of me.” Loki scowled.

“I ask too much?! I wasn’t asking you to profess your undying love; all I wanted was some kind of confirmation that you don’t hate me, and that was too much for you?”

“You ask for far more than that and we both know it,” Loki said curtly. “Just as we both know I am incapable of giving you what you want.”

“That’s a lie-”

“If you don’t like what I have to say, then don’t be around to hear it!” Loki thundered. “Stop asking for what I cannot give.” Claire huffed angrily, straightening to her full height.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” She challenged, daring him to lie to her face again. She didn’t recognize this Loki. This was not the Loki she’d fallen for.

“Get out!” Loki slapped the surface of the water with his palms, punctuating his angry shout with a spray of water. Resolved green met burning blue as the room fell silent. Astrid observed the scene from her place in the middle, from the trembling of the prince's hands to the unshed tears in the princesses eyes.

“Fine,” Claire spat. “I’ll have Ragna collect my things.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!” Claire slammed the bathroom door shut, drowning out Loki’s echoing shout. Loki sank down into the water, rage simmering as he created a wave that flooded the bathroom. He sat below the water, replaying the conversation over and over in his mind. Why could they never get things right? He stayed underwater for so long his lungs began to burn, and Astrid begged him to come up. He resurfaced as clumsily as a newborn calf, startling when Astrid put a hand on his shoulder.

“Forgive me, Prince Loki. Are you alright?”

“No.” Loki said as he spat the water out of his mouth like an uncouth child. He wiped the water rushing down his face out of his eyes angrily.

“Would you like me to leave?”

“What would be the point, Astrid? You would simply have to come back,” Loki said resignedly, slumping down into the water again. He threw up his hands in defeat, making more water splash outside the tub. “My work will not wait. Do what you must.”

~~~~

Claire made her way down the halls, a gloomy cloud trailing behind her. Loki made her so angry she could spit fire. Maybe one day she’d burn him to death and make s’mores. She couldn’t make sense of him- first they fucked like rabbits on their honeymoon, then he kicked her out the second they got back, so she avoided him (like she thought he wanted), but then he took her back to his room and put her to bed! What followed next was a little fuzzy, but she had faint impressions of needy kisses, desperate touches and soft cuddles. She remembered waking up with a raging beast of a hangover, and falling asleep in his arms. Claire had a sneaking suspicion that Loki had done some kind of voodoo to get rid of her hangover. Apart from her bruised feelings, she felt right as rain. Claire rubbed at her lips as she lingered on the memory of Loki’s fervent kisses, Loki’s voice floating back to her:

“Gods, I wish I could have you.”

That fucking liar. He totally wanted a piece of Claire pie! Why else would he take such good care of her and kiss her so sweetly? Claire’s toes curled as she remembered those kisses. Those were definitely not the kind of kisses you gave someone you didn’t care about. So why would he lie?

She was too hurt and angry to care at the moment. It felt like everyone she passed knew she was unwanted and unwelcome in her husband’s rooms. Hell, if the servants had overheard, they probably did know.

She kept it together long enough to make it to her apartment. Ragna was tidying up as she was let in, looking up from her work to greet Claire. Her cheery face fell when she saw the tears gathering in Claire’s eyes.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” she asked.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Claire managed, her chin quivering as tears finally began to fall. Ragna dropped her work and embraced her, letting the princess fall apart. “Why is he such a di-i-i-i-ck?” Claire sobbed, embarrassment and heartache oozing from every pore of her body.

“Who?”

“‘Who’,” Claire parroted, angrily wiping tears and snot from her face with her sleeve. “The snow miser, the-not-so-jolly-blue-giant, Jackass Frost.” she added bitterly. Ragna looked conflicted about whether she should answer.

“The prince?” she guessed quietly. Eyes closed against more tears, Claire shot unenthusiastic finger guns in Ragna’s direction.

“Bingo,” she confirmed, cringing when she hiccupped. “I hate crying.”

“Can I do anything for you?” Ragna asked, thankfully following Claire’s you-only-get-one-’Your-Highness-per-private-conversation rule.

“I um...I stole Loki’s clothes...I left my dress in his room so if you could grab the rest of my things at some point, that would be great,” Claire said. “Do you have any tissues?” Ragna produced a hanky from her dress, sitting in companionable silence as Claire cried and hiccupped and snotted all over the square of fabric.

“Can I do anything else?” Ragna asked. “Maybe bring you some water?”

“I don’t suppose there’s ice cream in the kitchens?” Claire asked hopefully. Ragna shook her head apologetically, and Claire sighed. “Oh well. I’ll just…go to bed I guess.”

“I’ll bring you a tray of desserts,” Ragna said, getting to her feet. “And water.”

“You’re amazing!” Claire called after Ragna’s retreating figure, schlepping her way to the bedroom to collapse on the empty bed. Being married was awesome.

Claire woke some time later, still sprawled over the top of the bedding. Her back screamed in protest as she got up, spotting the silver tray and cloche Ragna had left on the corner table. Surrounded by fluffy pillows, soft blankets, and crushing loneliness, Claire ate until she felt sick.

#meowmeow writes #covenant #loki fic #loki x ofc

[willowcrowned]

sometimes I like to think about an AU where Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan are the same age because obviously 90% of Obi-Wan’s personality—especially the fussy, irritating, This Is The Way Things Are Done bits—developed in direct reaction to having Qui-Gon as a master, but it would be SO funny if the exact same thing happened and Obi-Wan was able to exert the exact same amount of control over Qui-Gon (which is to say none) because instead of getting tired, put-upon, ‘I refuse to actually lecture this man because that would be a complete upset of the master-padawan structure and I would rather die than get into that dicey situation’ Obi-Wan Kenobi, you get Obi-Wan ‘Anakin Qui-Gon for the love of please’ Kenobi, who is able to threaten a drinking problem and mean it

#like pet of the fun crunchy multiple-readings bits of obi wan and qui gon’s relationship is the apprenticeship problem #because qui gon messed obi wan up big time #admittedly mostly in really funny ways but also in a lot of not funny ones #which is the way things work with adults! #qui gon is very imperfect and trying his best! #he fucks up to an incredible—and incredibly human—extent #but when you take that element away suddenly you get PURE comedy #have you ever seen a sixteen year old try to micromanage another sixteen year old? because that’s exactly what obi wan does #he fails #thoroughly #star wars #star wars au #willow’s aus

[captain-lovelace]

#my poetry #Horuspoetry #This one’s never gonna get professionally published so here it is #I usually hate writing lowercase poetry but I thought the unfinished look it gives #poems worked with the subject matter #I also wanted to work in a space detailing the experience of growing up neurodivergent #where you are functionally gendered as a failure #A lot of the details (the burying or the hands-to-eyes) are based on my own life. As is like. The general feeling. Which was basically my #standard from ages 3-9. the description of things outside is based on the memories I have of my old backyard when I was really little #And of the park I used to go to #I have a lot of memories of thinking of myself as basically already dead but also not really *understanding* the difference between being #dead and alive? #Idk. I think the perspective I am writing from is that of the child #but also in some ways I’ve noticed the way I behave towards my memories of my past self resembles the ableist way adults treated me when I #was a kid #As if somehow #There was something just… wrong with me and me only and so I deserved it #So this was also an attempt to show compassion to that child and break from that belief. To say ‘this was fucked up’ #And that I don’t believe that there was something wrong with me after all and even if there HAD been I wouldn’t have deserved that treatmen #No one does