#theirvoices

Melt Into Me i want to forget. just help me forget. - Mack to Jason

“…Dunno if that’s the healthiest way to cope…”

Not that he was judging. Lord knew Bruce Wayne and every one of his little birds were the kings and queens of poor coping methods. Jason at least made the effort to see a therapist once in a while—far more than could be said for the others. But now wasn’t the time to lecture Mack on shit like that (not that he would anyways). Not when they were straddling him on the couch, pressing soft kisses to his lips, one hand trailing down his chest.

Still. He took that hand in one of his, holding it in place. Cupped her cheek with his other hand and pulled back just enough that he could look her in the eyes. Checking in before allowing this to go any further. “You sure?” His voice was soft, but not patronizing. “I’m not saying no, I just wanna make sure you’re not gonna regret this later.”

Because he could feel all those nasty, negative emotions of theirs. The guilt and the shame and the pain. He could also feel the desire. If this was what they wanted, if it was what they needed, he would give it to them.

But he wanted them to be sure, first.

[spotify wrapped has arrived. send me a number from 1-100 for a starter based on that song, or a lyric from it, or send a 🎁 for me to shuffle.]

55 - Talk Too Much - COIN.

 As much as Thor had devoured every scrap of Midgardian culture (and by extension pop culture) available to him no sooner had he settled on the planet, the cliché of their situation had yet to fully register.

The battle was victorious and the mission successful, though not without considerable cost to both Tony’s latest suit and Thor’s levels of energy. Having been dispatched as a two-man team, it was a case now of waiting for the inevitable pick-up should it appear before the Asgardian felt ready to take flight again, or indeed to make use of Mjolnir.

As it was, that was to be some time at least – Thor, uncharacteristically, wasn’t even making moves to clear away the persistent rain which sheeted down through ruined buildings. For now he had decided it the wiser option (at least in the short-term) to gather his strength. The weather would help with any fire hazards, at least. To compensate for this, he had offered, then insisted, Stark shelter beside him and by his side, to make use of his heavy cape against the elements. If he wasn’t going to wear it, the thunderer would be damned certain he would still be dry.

All he had to do now was stop himself from thinking too much on just how close the mechanic was standing as a result of his own stubbornness; the solidity of his small frame beside his. After all, closeness was hardly anything new – as battle partners one had to become comfortable being in proximity – but something about this simple intimacy struck Thor in a way he had not quite expected it to.

It was, of course, blamed on the exhaustion but did little to soothe the creeping thoughts, the words sitting in the back of his mouth longing to explode outwards with an admission some time in the making. He needed to keep himself occupied before he made a fool of himself. He was better than muddled comments in the middle of a storm, after all – gods above, he was Thor.

Jerrie could sense that something didn’t quite sit well with her brother around the holidays and it broke her heart, but she understood it perfectly. Christmas couldn’t just be Christmas with the famed Rathaways. There always had to be so many strange and invasive people to have to always shake hands and force eye contact with, insincere smiles, the endless chatter in a language she couldn’t understand and how overwhelming it all was. 

She wished more than anything she could whisk herself and her brother away from it all and they could spend their holidays somewhere quiet, somewhere warmer and more inviting, somewhere they didn’t have to feel the crushing pressure of having to hide themselves and pretend to be who they were not. Try as she might to brighten the atmosphere and find a glimmer of hope in the over-decorated halls and ballroom (which were admittedly beautiful), the lights were too glaring to bring anything close to it.

Mama and Daddy weren’t far away, never seeming to be satisfied with anything they did, but Hartley especially. It made her heart sink and she held on to his hand as he squeezed it – gentle, but firm to let him know he wasn’t alone nor was he unappreciated. She noticed the caterer and would have laughed and lovingly teased Hartley about his admirer if things were different, if they’d been born to a family that wasn’t hell-bent on maintaining the status quo no matter the cost, but they weren’t and so all she could offer was a sad smile.

It wasn’t fair.

Life generally wasn’t and this was something she already knew at nine-and-a-half, but Christmas of all the times in the world didn’t have to be this way.

@theirvoices​ liked my starter call and got Bobby

It was an experiment of sorts. Their limited time together had already shown Ivy that Barsad was far from a touchy person. He kept his distance, the walls around him practically solid in their strength. Ivy, however, thrived on touch. Or controlled with it, at the very least. He wondered how far the other man would let him go. Giving Ivy even an inch was a grave mistake, as many had fatally found out.

O U T   O F   C R E P E S 

[hyperventilates]

   “The harm? The harm is that they’re absolutely petrified! Honestly, Crowley, they’re trying their best. Look how lush and green it is in here-”

 Aziraphale was distracted from the gentle attention he was giving to a rather impressive peace lily, letting the shiny leaf he’d been examining slip away between his fingers. It was quite the urban garden, but the angel couldn’t help being aware of the undercurrent of fear present among the chlorophyll.

 He plonked himself down in the offered seat, sinking back into the plush cushions with a contented little sigh.