Sorry I haven't been all that active on here. Stuff isn't going great. But I am doing things and finishing requests and stuff (albeit slowly).
I don't really feel comfortable explicitly saying what's happening, but sorry about all of this.
Go Figure- Superwoodtalia x Male!ReaderSometimes you hated your job. Like, really, really hated it.Go Figure- Superwoodtalia x Male!Reader by Naked-toes
It wasn’t because of the hours, although they were stupidly long, or your co-workers, even though they were annoying at best, or even just the plain fact that you had to deal with aliens and weird technology and god knew what else on a daily basis. It was more the fact that, more often than not, you were expected to magically be able to figure out what to do. And, in most of those cases, you had no bloody idea. Like now, for instance.
You sighed, then looked at the blond man next to you, who met your (e/c) gaze with a similarly frustrated gaze of his own green ones. Neither of you had to say a word for the sentiment to be crystal clear. The rest of the team were absolute fucking arseholes. And for a couple of them, that wasn’t even in a metaphorical sense.
While the act of solidarity did help to ease your frustration, there was no way in hell either of you were going to get away without finishing your task.
'Til Life do us Part- Male!Reader x Lithuania'Til Life do us Part- Male!Reader x Lithuania by Naked-toes
You had been dead for three weeks, two days, one hour and sixteen minutes. At least that was what you estimated, given the dates on the calendars, the times on the clocks. It was just an estimate of course; you were using the last time you remembered as an indicator of when you died. Because you had died and you knew it. Just as you knew there was only one person who would have brought you back. Toris. Sweet, sweet Toris, who thought he’d been doing the right thing, who thought that he could bring you back from the dead unharmed.
God he was so naïve.
Not that you could have blamed him. He was new to this thing, new to the idea of humans not being the only sentient beings, of all those old stories that mothers used to tell their children to scare them into sleep being true. You’d admit that was partially your fault. You’d forced him to acknowledge this, told him just enough that you thought he’d be safe. Except that dying hadn’t been something yo