#vesallkyn

First of fucking all...

how dare

Second :

Third :

i love you lots and always and FUCKING HELL THIS IS PERFECT AND I LOVE IT AND JUST -continues screaming about this for the next 47 years-

Thank you so much @vesallkyn for this beautifully painfully perfect christmas present. It’s the best thing because angst and sad is my fave but u know that which is why you created this probably lol

i love you with all my mental oak mages. 

-hugs and tea and cookies-

|| MEME - NONNY - ACCEPTING ||

vesallkyn

“Who? Loki? He’s a god. Bits of him get hacked off all the time!”

“But…” The mutant laces her fingers together on her lap, brows furrowed. “I mean–well. Listen, it’s not that I don’t like having him around. I love…” She clears her throat, “spending time with him. And sure, our sex life continued on without too many issues. What woman can complain about a head in the bed? But between the two of us, I needed some space by the time he managed to regenerate from head to toe. Not a lot. Just enough that he didn’t ask me to carry him with me to the bathroom every time I went.”

Your muse is an animal of your choice, which animal would they be and write a self para about what they’d do as that an animal for a day. 

Verse:  Crash This Train Word Count: 20 Rating: SFW

Animal chosen: house cat

SEND ME A SYMBOL FOR… Status: Not Acceptin’

▲  five time my muse thought about kissing yours, and the one time they did. 

I could be so good at loving you, but only if you told me too.

1-

He’s still not sure what the point is of a bunny hiding eggs. But he definitely understands the concept of the hoard of candy that goes to the kid who finds the most. And he’d made a good start hadn’t he? Beelining it all over the field finding all the eggs the other little kids missed. He’s good at this. Just seems to know where they are even when there’s no way he could see them. But then….

The candy becomes unimportant. Because Verity isn’t playing. Sitting by her mother glaring tears at her empty basket. And the fun he’d been having seconds before fades into the background of the other screeching kids around him. Feet carrying him away, ( a few eggs lost in his hurry), to flop down next to the center of his little universe.

One little hand reaching for the prettiest of eggs in his basket. Placing very carefully into hers. 

                “T’is un ‘as shoclate n’it ‘ady bugs.”

It’s not a kiss but kissing’s gross. Chocolate is much much better. And maybe he likes that feeling. Swimming around in his stomach, that pitches and turns it; when she smiles. Because even at five years old, she’s got him wrapped around her finger.

2-

She’s pretty. Like in the way flowers are pretty. Or a Christmas Tree is pretty. Or the way his mom is pretty to his father. Verity is just pretty. And some how she’s more so right then. Eating her ice cream that makes him want to gag but instead he takes a bite of his snow cone. Laughing because apparently her bite was too big and brain freeze is a thing.

                Thomas Letters asked me to the dance…again.

A twitch of a sneer into his treat. And where the sudden inclination to kiss her–on the cheek–hits him out of nowhere; but he swallows it down. A hand reaching out to take hers, instead. A squeeze, then two. Their on personal language. Their own moris code. And in not so many words?

Thomas Letters better back off. Or Bastian’s gonna show him what happens when you make his girl uncomfortable.

3-

Toes have been curling in his boots all afternoon. Fidgeting with his phone, between the moments she pops out of the dressing room. Trying to ignore her mother’s commentary. The woman’s a little much in his opinion, but Verity had asked him to come; so here he is. Playing the supportive friend (aka the other member of your mom’s crazy club). Secret text messages passing between them. Cracking jokes and making fun of the store’s decor. But then…

Oh no….oh no that one….

He never really thought about it until right then. How a piece of clothing could ever amplify how beautiful she already is to him. But…there it is. And he probably looks like an idiot. Sitting there, slack faced and eyes wide. A little auburn leaking into the corners. Because holy shit he’s never wanted to kiss her so much in his life as right then but—

                 It’s too pale. It washes your skin out. Try the next one.

And there’s a muted clearing of his throat. Focusing on his phone again; before her mother realizes he’s staring. And quick message sent to her phone.

[ Text to: Lady Bug ] Don’t listen 2 her it’s perfect. Get my mom 2 bring us bk 2morrow and get it. 

4-

Hurrying out of English Lit. His feet can’t carry him fast enough. He’s got precisely two minutes, thirty-eight seconds to get to his locker. Retrieve his chem book, and haul ass to get to Verity’s locker. So they have two minutes thirty-six seconds to walk to their shared class together. He’s got it timed perfectly. Sliding up behind her open locker door. Which closes a half second later. Verity’s bright smile lightening up the hallway. And there goes his brain shutting off. Everything stopping because she can turn him stupid with just a look. Make him want to kiss her in front of everyone, without a single fuck given about consquences. Though right when he decides to do just that….

               Mister Barton! No running in the hallways!

And he’s jerked back to reality, when Verity’s smile fades in the wake of the admonishment. And Bastian’s forced to turn away from her. A less than genuine apologetic look on his face, for the sake of the hall monitor. 

                “Sorry, Misses Lowery….”

Somewhere behind him, fingers pinching the material of his jeans. Catching a bit of skin. And he’s trying his best to compensate being certifiably goosed in front of elder woman. Who finally with a not so pleased look, heads off to nail the next unsuspecting student. Bastian turning about and squinting at the center of his universe. But by the time he’s worked out a come back Verity’s grabbed his hand. Pulling him along in a quick paced walk.

                 Come on, Bazzy. We’re gonna be late.

5-

Homecoming. He hadn’t wanted to go but he’s on the football team. He had to go. So he went. Verity on his arm. Which made all the difference in the world. Even got him to dance once or twice, because he just can’t tell her no.  But mostly they just people watch don’t they? Tucked in a corner table of the gym. Laughing between themselves, and picking at the food on the plate between them.

And it’s not the first time he thinks about kissing her. Not the first time the moment’s been right and he’s just been a few beats to late. And this time isn’t any different. Turning to pick up the glass of punch instead of her hand. Kissing the edge of the styrofoam instead of her lips. Because the moment might be right, but it’s not perfect. And then he’s joking on punch a second later because she’s decided Kelly Mason’s dress looks like a peacock.

6-

They parked his truck in his drive way. His house is first on the street from the turn off. It just made sense. Plus it gives them a few more minutes together, while he walks her home. One hand safely in his pocket, the other holding her shoes; because heels are a bitch.

I still can’t believe Lisa won homecoming queen. I was sure Monica had it.

“Lisa prolly bought votes.”

Bazzy! There’s a swat to his arm, even if a second later she’s agreeing with him with a giggle.

There foot steps slow the closer they get to her drive way. Eventually coming to a stop just out of sight of her front door. He hands her, her shoes back. She takes them with a small thanks. But then she’s stepping into his space. Reaching up, fiddling with his hair and stepping back again. Fingers brushing away the confetti stuck between them.

Sorry you ha—

But she doesn’t get to finish. And it’s awkward. Fumbled. Teeth connecting a little. But it’s perfect all the same. Cuz arms wrap around her. And her’s some how end up around his neck. And maybe he gets her to her front door a few seconds late, but close enough on time her mother doesn’t fuss. And maybe he feels a little lighter than air on his way back home. Pretty sure the world could go up in flames right then and he wouldn’t notice. 

Minding.His.Own.God.Damn.Business.

That’s what he’d been doing. Fiddling with a part for one of the jets, that somehow, the last pilot to fly her had managed to fry. Said pilot remaining nameless, at least until he gets to where he’s going. To spend ten minutes fuming how every single time without fail said pilot manages to do this. It’s not hard, to keep it in tact. It really isn’t. If said pilot would stop trying to manhandle the bird like a fucking drunk prom date. Something that Bastian is quite literally grumbling to himself about as he takes a blind turn. 

Sometimes Bastian makes it far too easy to mess with him. Sometimes he simply asks for it. And how could Loki possibly not take the opportunity the fool is giving him? Focused far too much on the part in his hands and not paying mind to where he’s going. It’s like Baz is begging for it. And who is Loki to deny him? 

And just like that a gate way is opened. A window across millions of miles of space. And the numbskull walks right through it, without a clue what’s happened; until he’s tripping and falling. The door way blinking out of existence behind him. The god of mischief cackling in the empty space of the hallway before making himself just as scarce. 

He should have been paying far better attention to his feet than he was. The sound of his foot falls changing from muted thuds on a solid steel floor, to the echoing clank of grating, should have been a clue. Above and beyond the fact, there’s a sudden change in pressure. A sudden difference to the air that surrounds him. And maybe those things do catch his attention, but only a fraction of a second before he’s tripping. Stumbling over something heavy and going down face first. The connection much louder than flesh and bone striking metal should be, something more akin to metal striking metal. The piece of the steering rod in his hands skittering and bouncing away across the floor. Leaving Bastian half growling, half groaning in both pain and aggravation. Because while his muscle and bone were unscathed, that doesn’t mean his skin isn’t. And he’s going to have bruises from how hard he landed.

Baz: I like 'er, we're keepin'er.