Monthly Archives: September 2013

Hey, Lover

whydotheykeeptakingmine:

iamthefirechild:

whydotheykeeptakingmine:

(Wouldn’t happen like a sexual thing, Ross is strictly dickly, but I do have something.)

Isiah had noticed the woman hitting on a bunch of people the night before at the bar, drunk and not at all safe to drive and he doubted she would want to wake up next to some of the people she was hitting on, so when she made her way to him he pretended to accept it and took her back to his hotel room but got her to sleep, covering her with the blanket when she finally did and getting himself as comfortable as he could on the couch, reluctantly taking a pain killer to do so so his leg wouldn’t wake him up, but he was still up before she was.

“Hey, how’d you sleep?” he asked, keeping his voice low when she awoke.”

“I can make that stop,” Summer said quietly, watching his struggle. “Whatever it is that causes the pain will still be there, but I can make the pain stop.” She turned away, fishing on the nightstand for her hair clips, and wound the knee-length mane up into a tidy bun, hiding all the tangles in the twists of hair and pinning it firmly.

“Would you like a brush to brush your hair with?” he asked, shaking off her offer to help with his legs, not quite sure he trusted her that much yet. Carefully he gathered clean clothes and went to the bathroom to change, coming out in a pair of simple jeans, a long sleeved undershirt, a jumper and simple sneakers.

“Nah, this’ll do me for a while.” She watched him move around the room, tall and lanky even with the limp. It was more than clear why she’d tried to hit on him last night, with that mop of curly ginger hair and the engaging smile. He really seemed to be a sweetheart; it was just too damn bad he was gay.

Summer shook it off, putting a hand on the doorknob. “All set?”

Connections

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

greensilvr:

iamthefirechild:

“Running away, I thought.” Summer brushed her hand against Loki’s arm. “I’m sorry. Is this not a good plan? You don’t want to be locked up, and I can’t blame you, and honestly I don’t know any better way to get you anywhere else. I only know a little bit of Asgard, and Earth. Midgard. I can’t get you off this world, Loki! I can’t — I’m just an empath, I’m not really going to be a lot of good to you, but I won’t leave you if you don’t want me to.”

She ran down after a minute, trying to figure out what else to say. “You said you’d try. I’m just trying to help.”

He caught her hand and pulled her into his arms. “You are the only thing that helps, and I forbid you to leave me,” he murmured, leaning down so their foreheads touched. He felt wildly possessive, desperate to dig out any inkling that she may feel useless to him and go. “I will run away until we find somewhere to take root, and there we will be exalted and adored, and you will not leave me.”

Loki’s sudden clasp startled Summer, but she nestled into his grip nonetheless. “I’m not going anywhere, then,” she murmured into his chest. “I won’t leave you alone. Don’t you leave me alone, okay?” The strength of his feelings was a little frightening, considering how little time they’d actually had together.

They’d only ever teased each other. How could he possibly — well, probably she was misinterpreting his feelings. Summer tipped her face up to Loki’s, hugging tight.

He knew this was dangerous. Perhaps the most dangerous thing he had ever gotten swept up in, if not the most consuming. He had run before, plenty of times. But always alone. And now her soft embraces rushed through his blood like a hard drug, and he clawed wildly for more, higher, closer. He promised himself this woman would not become weakness. She would continue to set him aflame and strengthen his resolve. They would be unstoppable; never weak.

And yet, unmistakably, his legs trembled as he let his lips fall the rest of the way to hers, eyes pressing closed as he slid his arms tighter around her back.

It was impossible to say if the kiss was unexpected or not. She fell into it, clinging to him more tightly. There was heartbreak ahead, she /knew/ there was heartbreak ahead; this was Loki, god of liars, god of mischief. His entire aspect could change in the blink of an eye. But he wanted, he wanted like fire and the burning of stars, and she wanted too, and anything he asked of her right now she would say yes.

She sought, blindly, to get her hands under his shirt, needing to touch that cool pale skin. It didn’t matter that they were running away, lost in a forest and far from safety; it didn’t matter that not that long ago he’d been the enemy and then an unlikely ally and then gone.

I can’t even begin tell you how much I love mythbusters
Viewer: “I guess the myth is busted let’s go on to the next one-”
Mythbusters: “NO”
Viewer: “but the myth was false it didn’t work-”
Mythbusters: “WELL WE’LL MAKE IT WORK”
Viewer: “But-”
Mythbusters: “NO WE HAVE TO MAKE IT WORK”
Viewer: “Why-”
Mythbusters: “SCIENCE”
Mythbusters: “NOW LET’S GO BLOW IT UP”
Viewer: “But this myth has nothing to do with-”
Mythbusters: “SHHHHH NO QUESTIONS ONLY EXPLOSIONS”

Open

d-man-howl:

iamthefirechild:

d-man-howl:

It had been a long case. Some psychotic human went on a killing spree and was surprisingly talented when it came to covering his tracks. Eventually, thank gods, he’d left a shirt behind, tucked under the bed, and the shifter’s sense of smell had caught the trail. But it had been stressful, and tiresome, and all Dyson wanted was to have a few drinks and relax at the Dal. 

After leaving his badge and gun at his loft, the wolf headed to the fae bar. He left his car behind and walked instead. Sometimes, it was exactly what he needed – to take the time and enjoy some fresh air. Clear his head. His mind wandered, thinking about who he would bump into at the Dal. He wouldn’t mind every one in their ragtag gang to be there, he quite enjoyed their company. But at the same time, he silently prayed there would only be a few to share companionship with tonight. Maybe even someone new. 

Dyson shook his head as the familiar building came into view. Pushing through the door, then through the regular crowd, he took a seat at the bar. With a smile at his old friend, he ordered a shot of whiskey and a beer before giving a glance around.

Summer was lost. Like, really, really lost. Her phone was dead, her car was low on gas, and it was, frankly, too damn late to be trying to figure out where the hell she was. Her stomach growled again for the fifth time in five minutes, and she gave up trying to find a fast food place too, picking the nearest parking lot that looked like food and pulling in.

It turned out to be a bar, not a restaurant, but the atmosphere and clientele intrigued her, and there was something other than usual about the way the folk there felt to her. So she slid through the crowd, avoiding eyes, and snagged a seat at the bar next to a tall, lanky, blond fellow, putting her forehead against the cool wood.

“God, what a fucking awful day,” she said to nobody in particular, and tried to catch the bartender’s eye.

Dyson gave a puff he classified as laughter and looked over at the woman beside him. “You too, huh?” Raising a hand at Trick he gave a nod to mean he’d pay for her drink. Giving another glance around the tavern, he saw hungry lustful looks being aimed at the newcomer and let his eyes flash golden, guessing from the looks of her that this woman wouldn’t want to be accosted. The other fae instantly turned away at seeing his wolf flare. 

Focusing back on his new drinking partner, he gave a lazy half smile and raised his glass of whiskey. “To a better night.” Throwing back the drink, he pushed the empty glass forward before leaning against the bar. “Dyson.”

Being responded to wasn’t entirely unexpected; a remark like that, in a place like this, practically begged a response. The voice that responded, though — it was a nice voice, warm and commiserating without being sympathetic, and the face was just as good, friendly and encouraging and with no hint of intrusiveness. Summer offered her own wry, lopsided smile in return.

“I’m Summer.” To the little bartender (it shouldn’t have been so much of a struggle to keep from showing surprise at the man’s size, but it was, and that was embarrassing all by itself) she said, “Amaretto, please. And can I get a glass of cider? That’d be lovely.”

The amaretto appeared in front of her remarkably quickly, and she lifted her toast to Dyson in return. “To a better night, indeed. It can’t get much worse.” She blew out a sigh and drank off half the glass. “I don’t suppose you’re a native who can tell me where a safe place to stay in this town is?”