He sleeps beside you, spare hand curled around the chain, six feet of arrogant beauty and ruthless intelligence softened and hidden.
Commanding that a thing be done is a damn sight different from witnessing it in person. Sometimes one needs to be reminded of this.
There are some things Thor doesn't understand, much as he'd like to. There are some things Banner would prefer not understanding, and this is one of them.
Carefully taking a pillow and placing it in his lap, Ted mumbles, “Think I outta be getting home, sleep this off.”
“Can’t do that either,” Higgins says, grimacing sympathetically. “You’ll have to, ah, burn it out.”
(In which Ted gets dosed with sex pollen, and Trent and Rebecca work together to help him through it.)
The fever breaks that morning, spurring Tang Fan from the bridge between death and dreaming.
This place up in the loft is where Clark goes to be alone, and when Clark had shown him this place, he’d expected him to laugh. Lex had asked him if he often wanted to go where no one else could find him, and also if this was where he went to drink beer.
(The small-town teenage dirtbag AU nobody wanted, prompted by cygnes/manzanas-amargas and the prompt 'thing…
This place up in the loft is where Clark goes to be alone, and when Clark had shown him this place, he’d expected him to laugh. Lex had asked him if he often wanted to go where no one else could find him, and also if this was where he went to drink beer.
(The small-town teenage dirtbag AU nobody wanted, prompted by cygnes/manzanas-amargas and the prompt 'things you said that i wish you hadn’t.'.)
Finn, a war hero and a Senator for the stormtroopers settled on Kef Bir, experiences an assassination attempt. The Senate, furious at Finn for insisting on stormtroopers' right to self-determination, assigns him a convict who's had his ability to access the Force stolen from him: Kylo Ren.
Then shit really starts getting weird.
None of this makes any sense, really. Jim's barely laid a hand on her, if he doesn't count the occasional hand-up over difficult terrain, or accidental (mostly accidental) groping when an explosion throws his bridge crew around, and Jim doesn't count that, because if he counted that he'd be at third base with Keenser by now.
Cycles of love and loss and understanding.
Better safe than close. A phrase Alleria repeated to herself so many times over their lost years that it has become some strange combination of vow and hymn.