#(for the record the tag my old brainrots are on is ‘

[cynicalmusings]

guys… what if i expressed an interest in returning to that spirited away!cyno au…

[finchly-tintinnabulation]

- Bridge Over Troubled Water -

Roboute Guilliman x M!OC (Finch)

Tags: Emetophobia, canon typical treatment of xenos, Nurgle mention, that flavor of large scale existential dread that only the Imperium provides BONUS DISCLAIMER: Finch has medical conditions that I don't (narcolepsy/cataplexy, seizures, mobility issues) but am writing to the best of my ability

This started out as pure Guilliman thirst but as soon as I started thinking about Finch (beloved oldest OC whom this blog is named after) it spiraled into being a very plot heavy slowburn. Apologies in advance for the extensive preamble to OLD MAN YAOI and big thanks to @cardinalcanis and Ovid for giving me the strength to write OC x canon, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond for even more Guilliman brainrot, and @daily-shenanigans784 for the beta read.

The Chorus: @thisuserislilsilly

- - -

If there was one thing to be grateful for it was that the marine had given up on attempting to frog march him, whether it had been his lapsing consciousness or the limp in the absence of his cane, by the time he was aware of the thrumming of engines he was slung over a ceramite plated shoulder like a sack of grain. With the throbbing of his head and the wad of gritty fabric jammed in his mouth making his jaw ache, all he could focus on was breathing steadily through his nose. 

It wouldn’t do to dwell on what was in store for him, any other outbursts would only worsen his situation. So he listened and breathed and tried to remain conscious, noted the buzzing and thrumming and creaking of metal, the heavy clanking footsteps and the jostling of the marine carrying him. There was little use trying to keep track of the turns and lifts and steps, whatever vessel he had been taken upon was a maze his addled mind didn’t have the capacity to navigate behind the blindfold until they eventually came to a stop. 

“Yes! That’s the witch, my lord.” The pariah twitched, roused by a voice he couldn’t quite place. A reedy sounding male human, faintly wheezing from agitation. “As you can see, this is the xenos who has been impeding our Tithe, it has cursed our world for generations since its arrival.”

“You must understand, even without… there was simply no way to maintain the production expected of our workers, with the conditions as they… as they are.” The cautious murmur of a more feminine voice clicked the pieces into place. She had once orbited his presence like many a curious child, but she had grown to know better. The planetary governor and his daughter, likely called to an audience with their Imperial masters. 

Even the humans feared their avenging angels, and it was with bitter resignation that the Aeldari realized why he was brought here, why a small crowd of festival-goers had descended upon him alongside the marine now toting him. They needed their scapegoat. 

“Sergeant, report your findings.” A modulated voice sounded from somewhere near the humans, and on his other side a pair of ceramite boots stepped forwards to reply. 

“We have confirmed this xenos to be the source of the confiscated artifact, the same Eldar material were found throughout the items we searched.” Ah. How lovely, he’d already been ransacked. “According to our records, these denote an Eldar psyker who creates such materials with its voice.” His blood ran cold as he heard the empty clank of something being set on a metal surface. Undoubtedly it was his armor. 

“That bewitching voice has been whispering to our children. The daemons it has brought have been sung from the Warp itself.” The governor interjected shrilly, seemingly too eager for proper formalities when an escape was in sight. Suddenly jostled again, the pariah remained limp in the marine’s grasp before his feet touched solid ground, realizing he was being stood to face what was now his jury. 

“The Eldar appeared to be familiar with a few…“ His captor began, though oddly trailed off his explanation. In fact, a hush fell all around him, accompanied by a rustle of silent commotion.

“Please, do continue.” A new voice. Deep like a marine, whose large vocal chords resonated differently than a baseline human’s, but unmodulated and melodic, somewhere behind him and accompanied by more ceramite footfalls and a strange sort of presence. Not a psyker, but a being of immense impact on the Warp, one felt despite his self-imposed restrictions.

“…Yes, my Lord. This Eldar appeared to be familiar with a handful of adolescents, we tailed the target before apprehension and one such child was that which we had confiscated an artifact from.” 

So he had been trying to warn me. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest at his prized apprentice’s inadvisable loyalty, and if he had the chance he would have scolded him. Dedication to a comfortable distance between himself and his much more short-lived pupils had once again proven little use; Rami’s headstrong intelligence and talent had instilled a sense of pride in him.

“Would this be the artifact in question?” The sonorous voice asked, and the pariah strained his ears for the clink of Wraithbone against armored gauntlets. “If so, I would like to be permitted to participate in this… interrogation. Unbind him so he may speak as well.”

“With all due respect my Lord, the xenos has been gagged to nullify the previously mentioned abilities.” The touch of cold ceramite briefly tightened on his arms as if in warning. 

“If it is a concern for safety, then have faith in me.” Something heavy settled upon his shoulder and after a moment the vise of gauntlets around his arms retreated, sluggishly realizing he was changing hands just as he began to wobble and quickly trying to steady his weight back into his good leg. There was another touch at the back of his neck as the fabric binding his eyes and mouth was untied, the gag tugged out from between his teeth. 

Swallowing thickly as he let the strain in his jaw fade, the Aeldari waited a moment before opening his eyes, and almost immediately regretted doing so. The relatively dim light sent a jolt of pain through his pounding head, swimming blobs of color tilting sideways as his vision spun. 

He sucked in a rattling breath, gagged, and proceeded to vomit all over the blue wall in front of him. 

The silence following was almost more suffocating than the restraints, and as his sight cleared he glanced around to try and orient himself through his nausea and downright murderous headache. As he had guessed, he appeared to be on the bridge of a space vessel, the dark metal interior bathed in the green light of command displays framed by a vista of stars and the view of Valian, frost dusting the rocky red sediment of the ice planet. 

The governor and his daughter appeared to be frozen beside the console, with the Aeldari’s belongings laid out on a tarp at their feet with the exception of his helmet and his student’s Wraithbone dagger set upon a control panel, sporting matching faces of blanched horror. The blue clad space marines scattered about were unreadable behind their helmets, but they were likewise unmoving. 

Turning his head, the pariah cleared his throat and attempted to wipe the dribble of bile on his chin on his shoulder, before turning his attention to the only other face he could see. The Aeldari towered almost a head above the human colonists, so tilting his head up slightly to stare into the shiny red lenses of a space marine’s helmet was new to him. The wall of a man now holding him upright put that neck ache to shame, seemingly double his own size and clad in towering ceramite regalia whose gold embossed greaves were now dripping with the contents of his stomach. However, the man’s visage was what took his breath away, pushing everything else from the pariah’s thoughts. 

The restless silence made sense now, as the sheer presence of his inscrutable blue gaze held the gravity of a white hot star, pinning the prisoner with its weight. His hair was gold like the glistening trim of his power armor, framing a face that seemed carved from stone in its statuesque idealism. And yet the image of a demigod was chipped as the Aeldari noted the lines of his face, a well worn furrow in his brow and a sunkenness around his eyes; he knew well the look of a tired man. 

“…Apologies, I think I’ve been concussed.” The pariah warbled hoarsely, clearing his throat and grimacing at the mess he’d made. Suddenly the stony visage before him cracked into a look of… amusement?

“No harm done. It can be cleaned.” No sooner had he finished speaking than a hunched and waxy skinned human appeared accompanied by the squeal of machinery, and the Aeldari flinched at the grotesque sight. He’d heard tell of servitors, but he was thoroughly caught off guard, even as it knelt unperturbed to scoop chunks of sick into a biohazard container. The pariah’s lip curled and he rebalanced himself to be out of the servitor’s way, pushing aside his disgust in favor of the matter at hand. 

“You. Baron of House Delta.” Tilting his head, he gave a sidelong look to the trembling human leader of the colony below. “When I told your predecessor I would take responsibility for the reduction of productivity in the absence of your Imperium, my word was bond. I imagine this exchange would have been far more helpful had you considered that rather than leveling such accusations. While I never expected gratitude, I find this an utterly incomprehensible thing to stoop to, you absurd little man.” 

The Aeldari derisively bared his teeth at the man, watching his reddened face morph from fear to outrage. He briefly considered spitting at the governor’s feet in contempt, but dirtying the floor further seemed counterintuitive to an attempt at diplomacy. “Since you have taken the liberty of going through my things, did you think to pick up my cane? I doubt the angels would enjoy holding me up for however long this takes.”

The governor sputtered but couldn’t produce anything coherent in response, which the pariah attributed to his gaze continuously flicking above his head to the extremely large marine holding him. 

“Are you injured?” The demigod intoned, effectively snatching the Aeldari’s attention as well, grasping his other shoulder to look him up and down. Despite himself, his face felt oddly warm at being studied so intensely. 

“Just a bolter to the side of the head.” That heavy blue gaze wandered pointedly down to his leg, however the expression on the marine’s face showed only interest, and he said nothing of it. His earnestness was almost disturbing.

“It appears my men aren’t in possession of your cane, nor would the present company be comfortable with your hands freed.” The marine raised his eyebrows, glancing around the bridge. 

“Oh, naturally.” He replied drily, to which the enormous shining wall of a man laughed. Laughed?

“I’m sure seating can be arranged. In the meantime, I would like for you to introduce yourself.” That strange warmth spread through his chest, disarming whatever retorts he had been trying to muster seemingly surrounded by hostiles. What reason had this enormous glistening marine to offer him a forum to speak?

“...As in, what am I called?” Was this still an interrogation? What information did he hope to glean?

“That would certainly be a good start. Give me your name.” The behemoth replied with a bemused smile. Still, the Aeldari paused. There were many things he had been called. Xenos. Witch. Teacher. Asuryani. Bonesinger. The name of his birth that he had long since abandoned. Perhaps those were more appropriate, to denote his place in the whirl of lives around him. But there was another answer that felt right. “Finch. It was… a name gifted to me by late autocrat Tamsyn Delta. If I’m not mistaken, it’s what you called a creature of Old Terra.” Despite his reservations, Finch couldn’t keep the softness from his voice.

“Clever choice, the name of a songbird.” The marine said, his expression warming with mirth, forcing the pariah to avert his eyes. What matter of human was this to know the path of a Bonesinger? 

Of all the time spent organizing and shelving emotions, doing his best to keep them labeled and controlled, Finch found his thoughts swirling as he tried to grasp the names for them. Affection and grief for his friend, trepidation, perhaps an uneasy sense of relief. And the unbearable warm thing he had suddenly been shouldered with, something between discomfort and… want. He wanted to keep talking to this man, whose words were given so easily, and yet there was something Finch felt he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Those tired eyes he knew so well.

“...Thank you, they were.” He sucked a breath through his teeth, again looking up to meet that azure stare. “However, if you don’t mind, continuing in this manner will only waste your time. I was under the impression I was here to be interrogated. Who are you to be playing at pleasantries with the likes of me?”

“How dare you!” The governor squawked, shaken from his silence as his face flushed so red it was nearly purple.

“...Pardon?” Finch asked flatly as he turned to squint at the agitated official, quickly becoming alarmed when a few of the space marines around him began to shift from their positions standing at attention; they had remained orderly as he had conversed with their commanding officer, but perhaps their patience had similarly worn thin. Looking back to the marine before him, the warmth had vanished, leaving only a stony visage. Though he fought to suppress it, a dim but dizzying panic began to rise within him.

“Lord Primarch Roboute Guilliman, Imperial Regent, Avenging Son and Master of Ultramar.” A marine’s voice spoke up, prideful and reverent. 

“Enough. Continue talks with the delegation, I will perform this interrogation myself.” 

The Primarch’s word was final, unceremoniously scooping up the Aeldari in his grip and striding in the direction of his office. Stunned, Finch could only sit in the arms of the man he had spent the last few centuries telling mythologized stories of, helplessly toted away from the bridge like a misbehaving pet. Silence laid heavily upon the ship’s corridors other than the sound of Guilliman’s stride and the constant ambient machinery, allowing Finch to ponder the horrendous mess he had gotten himself into. 

Eventually they came to a stop in a room bedecked in golden trim similar to the Primarch’s armor, walls lined with shelves of data slates and books and a gargantuan desk at the far end. That was where Finch was deposited, seated awkwardly on its surface like a child perched on the kitchen counter as Guilliman stepped back to stand where he could scrutinize the Aeldari before him. 

“Be truthful with me and answer what I ask. I’m sure you’re well aware that it is not only your head on the line. You said you had promised to take responsibility for this world, do you stand by that statement?” He crossed his arms with a clank.

“Yes.” Anxiety settled like a leaden core in Finch’s chest, not quite expecting how quickly he replied. But it was the truth. “I told them their options; turn to subsistence or die. I taught them where to start.”

“Farming rather than goods manufacturing?” Finch nodded in response. “Yet you aren’t their savior.” There was that intrigue in his tone again. He felt as though he was being toyed with.

“No. I anticipated the return of the Imperium.”

“What of the children, then.”

The Aeldari took a steadying breath. Now this felt more like an interrogation. “The soul of an Asuryani is a beacon to the Ruinous Powers, even while properly shielded, and that attention could have been turned upon untrained humans touched by the Warp. That became my responsibility, as those who could not learn would have to be…culled. Again, I taught them where to start.” 

Unbidden, those first few years on Valian returned to him. The frozen ground couldn’t cover the smell of disease permeating the air, stagnant and festering. Famine, terror, the bitter taste of desperation assaulting his senses. He hadn’t known of humans and their disease processes, what he would come to know as scurvy and prion disease indistinguishable from the madness wrought from the fervent and hopeless worship of the Plague Lord.

“Guilt for the fate of what others of your kind consider to be lesser beings?” Guilliman stepped closer, sharp azure peering into dark viridian, making his prisoner balk but no longer look away. 

“A daemon world would surely do me in as well.” Finch replied defensively. “What my kin would think has crossed my mind, but it holds little sway now. I have… spent far more time with your people, anyway.” Ignoring his headache was futile as he felt his sinuses sting, recognizing the emotion but trying to push past it. I want to live. I want them to live.

“Listen very closely.” Guilliman’s voice was so low it rumbled, thrumming through Finch’s lungs in accompaniment with the arrestingly serious look on his face. “It will not matter to the Inquisition what your intentions may have been, all they will see is your presence as evidence of a taint in the populace. The Administratum will not consider the explanations if the Tithe is not paid.” 

Finch stopped breathing. He knew what Guilliman meant, it is not only your head on the line. Staring into space past the Primarch’s ear, the acrid prickling of tears burned, struggling to shore up his emotions as he felt a telltale weakness creep over him. It really had been doomed from the start, no matter how much he tried to maintain an arms length, how much he tried to disappear from the population’s consciousness. His presence was a dark stain, first to his Craftworld, and now to another world he could almost call home. With every passing moment his survival felt like a mistake. 

“Finch.” He was dragged back to the present, the frowning face of Macragge now inches from him, voice barely more than a murmur in volume but still carrying through his core.

“Help me.” The words punched their way out of Finch’s gravelly throat, a surprise to even himself. The dams he had built were not meant to withstand this turmoil, as the fate of millions pressed down upon him.

There was no way to wall off his mind completely, though long had he tried. With enough practice he felt only the faint brush of presence around him and the rumbling of conflict like distant thunder across the galaxy. He could not waver. I will endure, I must endure, I will endure. 

Practice couldn’t prevent the grief rushing through him. Feeling his heartbeat slamming in his throat, muscles slackening under the sudden emotional strain.

“Slow down.” Ceramite gauntlets once again found the Aeldari’s cloaked shoulders, firmly attempting to ground him as Finch’s thoughts threatened to burst from their confines and drag him under. “It is far too early for you to lose hope. I will help, with your full cooperation. I will not allow a settlement to be lost. There is time, and I have patience.”

Guilliman’s earnestness was dizzying, like a rock in a hurricane, making Finch wish his hands were unbound if only to grasp onto him. Wearily he closed his eyes, unable to hold up the weight of his eyelids, trying to justify the Primarch’s willingness to accept a task that would be so infinitesimal within the scale of his empire. A colony world, with lives that others would consider of no consequence. There was so much in the way of deserving to feel relief, and yet Finch felt his shoulders sag, his head hanging limply on his neck.

“I’m beginning to like you far more than your myth, Roboute...” The Aeldari slurred out with a breathless chuckle. 

“…Oh?”

“Such irony…”

Finch couldn’t finish his thought. The wave of fear and pain that had crashed against his mental walls ebbed, pulled into blackness.

[charlottesbookclub]

it's been a long, long time (alistair x reader) 💜💜

Summary: listening to oldies and slow dancing with alistair. that's it that's the plot 💕

Warnings/Tags: gn!reader; exists in the same timeline/universe as "like real people do" but you absolutely do not have to read that one for this one to make sense; alistair being super awkward but also super in love; basically just pure tooth-rotting fluff, but as always, let me know if I've missed anything!

Words: 1,860

Author’s Note: we interrupt your scheduled "king of all birds" programming to bring you nearly two thousand words of completely self-indulgent fluff 🥰. soft alistair lovers please come get y'all juice!! 💜💜 I blame @freakazoidr17cr-5 for infecting me with slow-dancing-with-alistair brainrot and also my sibling's 1940s playlist for allowing me to indulge in scenarios generated by the aforementioned brainrot 💖💖

also, if you don't know the song "it's been a long, long time," I highly recommend listening to it, both because it truly is one of my favorite songs, but also because I think hearing it sets up the vibes/tone of the story. this is my favorite version! 🥰🥰

            Alistair watched you intently as you set up the record player and gently pulled the album from its cardboard sleeve. You adjusted its position on the turntable under his watchful gaze. His fascination with human things and his habit of observing as you completed almost any task were nearly second nature to you now. You were about to start the music when his question interrupted.

            “I’m confused,” his brow was furrowed and his hands fluttered near the record player, almost as though he was trying to gauge its function without touching it. 

            “Mm-hmm,” you softly encouraged him to voice his thought aloud.

            “If the music comes from there,” he pointed across the room to where your phone sat on a sidetable near the couch. “Why do you need… this?” His hand traveled back to vaguely indicate the set-up you had constructed with the record player. You smiled at the question.

            “Just for fun!” you responded lightly, shrugging. Alistair rolled his eyes in mock-exasperation, but you could see the affection behind the gesture. “Some people think the sound is better,” you offered as a further explanation, “but I just think it’s fun to do sometimes.” You turned the machine on and placed the needle on the record, looking up to watch his reaction as the music began to play from the speakers.

            He started just slightly upon hearing the first notes, but then leaned in to watch the album spin under the needle. You stood there for a moment, looking on as he observed the turntable, staying just far enough away that he hovered but never quite touched it. With a small smile, you retreated to the couch and picked up the novel you were reading. 

            “What music is this?” he asked after a few moments, his eyes finding you from where he still stood next to the record player.

            “It’s a collection of music from the 1940s,” you responded, a smile growing on your face when you realized he’d likely be quite amused by the colloquial nickname for the genre, “but people usually just call this kind of music ‘oldies.’” 

            Your words had the desired effect; Alistair scoffed in amusement. He finally gave up his station near the turntable, appearing by your side on the couch in an instant, his own book in hand.

            “’Oldies,’” he repeated under his breath, shaking his head slightly in bemused disbelief. “Not even a century old and they call them ‘oldies.’” He chuckled to himself as he settled back into the cushions. You joined in his laughter for a moment before you both became absorbed in your respective reading, the crooning melodies of the music hanging warmly in the room.

            After a while, you gently leaned your head against his shoulder, intentionally slowing your motion so he had time to anticipate and adjust to the gesture. You could sense him faltering for a moment, unsure of how to reciprocate. Then he tentatively slid an arm behind your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side. The movement was halting and almost awkward, but so endearingly sincere that you couldn’t help but smile softly to yourself as you snuggled further into him. He seemed to relax into the position then, allowing himself to curl into you slightly. 

            Time seemed to melt in that moment, and you weren’t sure how long the two of you sat like that before a change in the song caused his head to snap up. The swelling intro of “It’s Been A Long, Long Time” swirled from the speakers, catching his attention like none of the other songs had.

            “This one’s my favorite,” you said softly as he tilted his head, listening intently to the music. He gently disentangled himself from you and lifted himself from the sofa before bolting back to the record player in a blur. He watched the spinning of the album fixedly as he had before, but this time he chanced touching the machine, placed a tentative hand on the speaker, almost as though he was absorbing the very vibrations of the music.

            “What’s this one called?” he asked in a whisper just barely loud enough for you to hear, eyes still on the record, enraptured by what he was hearing.

            “’It’s Been A Long, Long Time,’” you responded, setting your book aside. Now it was your turn to observe him with adoring fascination, elated that he seemed to be enjoying a song you loved so much. Eventually the final chords began to fade, and Alistair looked up at you with something akin to mild panic in his eyes.

            “How do you make it go again?”

            You hopped up from the couch happily and returned to your position by the record player. You could feel his gaze on you as you lifted the needle, his eyes cataloging each movement with rapt attention as you placed it back on the black plastic grooves. The intro music swelled again, filling the room. 

            This time you closed your eyes, humming along softly and mouthing the lyrics, letting the song guide your movements as you began to sway back and forth. Alistair’s eyes were all for you this time, watching in wonder as you let yourself fall into the soft embrace of the music. As the song faded out for the second time, you opened your eyes slowly to find Alistair’s long fingers resting tentatively on the needle. With the utmost caution, he lifted it from the record – you were certain that had it not been for the supernatural steadiness that graced his every move, his hand would have been trembling. He copied your earlier movements exactly, dropping the needle at the correct place for the song to swell to life again. He stopped then, though, as if he wasn’t quite certain what to do next.

            “Do you want to dance?” you asked, holding out your hand to him, palm up – an invitation. He looked at your open hand for a moment, slowly blinking once before resting his cold palm in your warm one.

            “I—I don’t know what to do next,” he muttered nervously, moving to take a step back and pull his hand from your grasp. You held fast though, gently urging him back toward you, a request he could hardly deny you for long.

            “Give me your other hand, please,” you entreated softly, and he obliged. Slowly, making sure he could anticipate your movements, you wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling the two of you even closer. If he still had a heartbeat, it would have been racing beyond all control. You brought your hand up to circle his shoulder, bringing your faces so close that your noses almost brushed.

            “Is this okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

            He nodded wordlessly and swallowed. If he were human, you would have been sure he had stopped breathing. You reached your fingers up to brush back a few errant strands of hair that had fallen into his face. The look in his eyes was equal parts terror and desperation that you understood instantly: he wanted to share this moment with you, but he had no idea what to do.

            Hoping to ease some of his anxiety, you tucked your head against his chest, removing the pressure of such close eye contact. This seemed to work, as it had many times in the past, since he let out a shuddering yet completely unnecessary breath. His body relaxed a bit against you then, and he minutely readjusted the position of his hand on your back before gently squeezing your hand that he still held.

            “What do we do now?” the words were barely a breath against your ear.

            “Just listen to the music,” you whispered back as you leaned into him, slowly encouraging him to sway gently with you. 

Never thought that you would be standing here so close to me

He reacted to your motion instinctively, pulling you into a slow spin across the floor.

There’s so much I feel that I should say, but words can wait until some other day 

Listening to the singer croon the words, you suddenly became hyperaware of Alistair’s hand pressed against you, the other wrapped up with your own. Each place where your skin met his told of hundreds of years of solitude, a protective wall that had been built stone by stone for centuries that was only now beginning to crumble. Every touch spoke a thousand words: I trust you.

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again

You could have been wrong, the gesture was so small and you couldn’t see the motion from where your were still tucked against his chest, but you were fairly certain you felt him press three tiny kisses to the top of your head.

Then his breath was at your ear again, reciting the words to the next lyrics as though he had known them forever. And perhaps, in a way, he had:

It’s been a long, long time – haven’t felt like this my dear since can’t remember when – it’s been a long, long time

            Tears formed in your eyes and you swallowed hard, folding yourself even closer to him. You could only guess how much courage it must have taken for him to allow himself to be so vulnerable. You intertwined your fingers with his and squeezed his hand gently, letting him know that you heard everything he had allowed himself to say, that you understood. He returned the gesture: a thank you, a mutual understanding, and a promise.

You’ll never know how many dreams I dream about you, or just how empty they all seem without you

            His movements seemed slightly more confident then, and he swirled you both slowly toward the center of the room, following the rise and fall of the melody with his steps. You chanced a look up at him and found him gazing back at you, a small but genuinely contented smile on his face. You beamed at him, then leaned ever so slightly upwards, hoping he would anticipate your next movement.

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice, then kiss me once again

            In time with the lyrics, you pressed three almost-impossibly soft kisses to his cheek. His skin was as cold as always, and you could feel the scratch of his beard beneath your lips. But there was something so warm about him, like some internal glow that you could sense even if you couldn’t see it. His steps faltered then, and another unneeded breath stuttered from his mouth. You opened your mouth to apologize, fearing you had acted too quickly, but almost as though he could predict your words, he shook his head minutely to assure you that all was well.

            He pulled you back into him and you melted into his embrace as he once again began to spin the two of you in slow circles. This time, when he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, you felt it, just like you heard the words that were so tenderly cradled in the small gesture: I love you.

It’s been a long, long time…

[withclawandvine]

what we pretend to be chapter 3

Summary: Azriel was a veteran spy, well suited to the sneaking and solitude that comes with a life in the shadows. He was good at it. He wasn’t good at undercover missions, so he couldn’t hide his shock when new recruit and undercover specialist Elain Archeron was already seated at the conference table, looking beautiful as ever. And then it was dropped on them like a bomb: Azriel and Elain would be sent to the suburbs, posing as a married couple to gather intel on a suspicious man who, according to reports, was in communication with notorious arms dealer, Koschei Sokolov.

Author’s note: oh boy this has been a long time coming. i could blame it on my new job or a number of other Life Things but the truth is i’ve been suffering from bnha brainrot (which if you’ve spent any time on my blog, should not come as a surprise haha) but i really wanted to get this done so i could start working on stuff for elriel month this year! so please enjoy, and let the pining begin babeyy !!

Tags: SFW, undercover au, fake married

Word count: 2.1k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42105033

As soon as the deadbolt clicked into place, Azriel let himself sag against the door. “Fuck,” he sighed. “I thought they’d never leave.”

From the moment Brian and Lynn Forth had entered the house, a headache lurked at Azriel’s temples. Now, in merciful quiet and with nothing else to distract him, the pain pounced. Not for the first time, Azriel wondered if you could be annoyed into physical pain.

From her place on the couch, Elain looked at him with amusement dimpling her cheek. “They were only here for twenty minutes.”

Although he doubted Elain would lie about something so trivial, Azriel checked his watch. Sure enough, it was barely 8:00. That single conversation had felt like a small eternity, or like he’d died and gotten stuck in purgatory, atoning for his past sins on an overpriced couch, while his neighbors smiled through every sentence. It might not have felt so punishing had they learned anything significant, but as it was, the Forths were as vapid as they were irritating.

Lynn had prattled on about the widely-adored previous owners of the house and their eventual retirement to the coast. How eagerly everyone had anticipated and speculated about who would move in next, the disappointment when the previous buyers had backed out at the last minute. And finally, the surprised excitement when word got around that a young couple would be moving in. And young you are—about our son’s age, if I had to guess. There was a pause, Lynn clearly waiting for them to confirm or deny her suspicions, but Elain had merely grinned at Azriel while patting his knee, “Aww, she thinks you’re young.”

Azriel didn’t have to fabricate the fondness in the roll of his eyes.

“Thirty’s not that far off for you, you know,” he’d said, mostly sure it was true. He didn’t actually know how old Elain was. For all he knew, she was already thirty, but he knew that this was the time to be vague. It was better to deflect with a jest of his own than assign an exact age to her.  

“And she did mention the wife,” Elain added when Azriel rejoined her on the couch, this time sitting down across from her—the cushion still uncomfortably warm from Brian—instead of next to her. That was Alex’s spot.

Azriel would hardly consider information they already had on record much of a consolation, but Lynn's comment about the woman’s age was interesting. There wasn’t anything about that in the files. “If she really is about your age, it might be easier for you to form a connection.”

“Galkin will surely get in the way, though.”  

The poor girl seems lonely—hardly ever leaves the house, with or without Ivan. Lynn had said, shaking her head with a troubled frown. Elain and Azriel exchanged a glance, unsurprised by this revelation, but unsure how to probe further. Brian, perhaps observing the small exchange and misreading it as discomfort, had cut in with an apologetic grimace, Lynn, dearest, they’ve only been here a few hours. Let’s not drag them into neighborhood gossip just yet.  

Azriel drug his hands over his face tiredly before his fingers finally settled at his temples, pressing into the tender flesh.

“You okay?” Elain asked, taking care to keep her voice low.

“Just a headache,” he said, but it made Elain frown, as if he’d told her something deeply troubling.

And then she gave a bit of a jolt, “We haven’t eaten yet today!”

Lack of nourishment was one of several potential culprits; he still wasn’t going to rule out the neighbors.

Elain reached for the welcome basket Lynn just threw together! for them on their coffee table and pulled at the artfully curled ribbon holding the crisp cellophane wrapping in place. Azriel watched her set aside the bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon, a scented candle, and a bag of locally roasted coffee before finding the list of her and Brian’s favorite delivery places and skimming it over.

“Indian or Thai?”

At the mere thought of fresh naan, Azriel’s stomach growled, “Indian sounds great.”

The dining table was still overrun with boxes, so they spread dinner out on the sofa table, promising they’d get to it tomorrow. It was unnervingly real—looking Elain’s messy hair and feeling the ache in his back and arms while they sat cross-legged on the couch, inhaling takeout too fast to talk. Here, inside the liminal space of a half-decorated room and low lamplight, Azriel really could just be somebody’s husband, procrastinating on unpacking.

But then he remembered that the boxes weren’t brimming with tchotchkes, and that getting the equipment inside ready, online, then securely stored could take all day. Whatever couldn’t be mistaken for a personal tablet or basic office equipage would have to be hidden away in filing cabinets or the closet. And that was just the beginning of tasks they had to accomplish to make sure the house was as unremarkable as possible.

Elain dunked a piece of roti in her aloo matar, “We need to meet the rest of our neighbors. Figure out who’s involved.”

“Or if they know anything,” Azriel added. “Even if they’re not working with Galkin.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “At the very least, Lynn seems invested in the neighborhood. I wouldn’t be surprised if she knew something.”

Luckily she was also endlessly chatty; getting her to divulge something wouldn’t be a challenge. Anything was better than what they had now. In the grand scheme of things, Ivan Galkin’s connection to Sokolov wasn’t a very significant lead, and one they probably only had because of the risk that came with doing business with someone new. They didn’t know the nature of the collaboration or what either man wanted from the other. They didn’t know what Galkin had to offer that made Sokolov decide it was worth the risk.

With the headache ebbing and his hunger sated, Azriel was painfully aware of his exhaustion. The kind that made his eyelids feel sticky with each blink, the normally thoughtless action becoming deeply unpleasant. It would be easy to blame it on the long day of driving and hauling and arranging, but in all honesty, Azriel had spent the previous night restlessly pacing around his apartment. Half preparing and half wrangling with his anxiety about the mission—about having Elain as his partner. Azriel could count on one hand the missions for which he’d had a partner. It wasn’t just his line of work that made him wary of trusting another person. He’d been a solitary creature his whole life. Hadn’t shared a space since his time in Special Ops, before Rhysand had plucked him out of the military ranks a decade ago.

Despite the anxiety urging him to do so, there was no reason for Azriel to push his body any further tonight. Their equipment wasn’t going anywhere, and even if it was set up, they hadn’t even determined an initial target.

He started tossing decorative pillows from the couch to the floor, but stopped when he felt Elain watching him. He turned to face her where she lingered on the stairs, brows wrinkled curiously.

“Don’t want to scratch a cornea on the beaded ones,” he explained. The one in his hands now looked promising—larger than the average throw pillow, covered in a soft suede.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” she said plainly. Azriel blinked at her, wondering if maybe she was messing with him like she had in the car, calling him baby and asking if he was into roleplay.

“We have a lot to worry about already,” she continued. Perfectly serious. “We can’t waste any of our energy on making sure the couch never looks like a bed, just in case people drop by and see it.”

Azriel could argue that people fought or fell asleep watching Sports Center all the time. But Elain was the expert and his spine knew he wasn’t twenty-two anymore, so he helped her fix the pillows and followed her upstairs.

The owner’s suite, situated at the end of the hallway, was decorated in the same earthy palette as the living room. Mostly neutral with rich woods, offset with more vibrant rugs and pillows of terracotta and evergreen. This was the room closest to being completely unpacked, except for the mound of boxes in the walk-in. The amount of clothes was concerning, more than Azriel had in his own closet. How long did the brass think this was going to take? There were half a dozen boxes just for him—suits and ties, jeans, athleticwear, a coat for every season, and finally, pajamas. He pulled the matching set out of the box, eying the baby blue and white striped fabric with disdain. After another moment of deliberation, he changed into only the pants.

Azriel finished getting ready for bed long before Elain, giving him time to situate himself on the side of the bed closest to the window, as close to the edge as he could manage without looking insane. He sat against the headboard, ankles crossed, staring at the communications device in his lap. So far, he’d only typed one sentence of his report, making a note about their visitors, and the small insight into the dynamic between Galkin and his wife.

What more was there to say? The neighbors smile too much and we can’t decide if we should get a French press or regular coffee maker tomorrow.

The thought of Amren reading an update like that almost had Azriel smiling to himself. He tried to recall any other details about the Forth’s visit, but the most pervasive memory was that of Elain’s hand on his knee, her thumb idly smoothing over the material of his pants, the touch warm and grounding. Azriel couldn’t quite remember the last time somebody had reached for him so casually and he had actually let them—much less been even marginally comforted by the gesture.

It shouldn’t matter. Not flinching away from her affections had served the mission. There was no use in thinking about why it was different, or what it might be like next time. Azriel had encountered plenty of beautiful women, even sought them out on occasion, at galas and buildings he didn’t belong in. Dousing suspicion with indulgent smiles and pouring honeyed words in their ears so they might fill his with secrets. It was a tactic he only used in moments of desperation, when subtlety was just as paramount as information itself, and there was no way of accessing someone’s computer or filing cabinets undetected. He needed to find that level of clarity now—let his body go through the motions and his mind focus on the mission.

He was sending his report when Elain stepped out of the bathroom.

Like him, she was dressed in pale blue. He wasn’t sure if the matching was intentional, because the color was where the similarities ended. Instead of pinstripes, Elain wore a silky nightgown trimmed with delicate white lace. Her thick hair had been loosely swirled into a bun on the top of her head, drawing even more attention to her exposed shoulders and the graceful lines of her collarbones. If Azriel had been able to draw air into his lungs, he might have laughed out loud.

One of her hands came up to fiddle with a thin strap, but it was as if she’d snapped her fingers in front of his face. The small, anxious movement dragging Azriel back to himself. Fuck, how long had he been looking?

He watched the ceiling fan spin while Elain darted across the room and into bed, only turning his head when he heard the rustle of the covers as she pulled them over her legs. The warmth in her cheeks had spread, splotching her throat and chest, in stark contrast with the cool blue fabric it disappeared into. Azriel’s eyes found the fan again, every muscle in his body as taut as the silence between them. Until Elain finally said, “Do you think we have time to stop at Target tomorrow?”

Azriel wondered if despite the mountain of clothing stacked in the closet, this was all Elain could find for pajamas. Summer still clung to the air, damp and stifling, but it wouldn’t be long before the wind chased away the humidity and started to bite. Surely whoever was responsible for selecting Elain’s wardrobe should have thought of that. Or at least of him, right now.  

“Sure,” he agreed, praying with everything he had that Elain would dismiss the strain in his voice as exhaustion. “Whatever you need.”

[chairteeth]

I have realized that I should probably make some kind of pinned post, since my neurodivergent ass has decided to take all of my coding skills for custom themes and not use them.

Well, I'm Nishi (she/her). Better known on Discord and Ao3 as Nahikoate (just Nahi is good!). I've been on tumblr before, I'm just very bad at not losing accounts. This blog is probably gonna be a bunch of reblogs, some fandom content, and some original stuff here and there. My main fandom is Puella Magi Madoka Magica or more specifically Magia Record, I suppose? That's the most persistent brainrot at least. This blog is honestly mostly reblogs and a hub for my TouNemu proselytization. Minimal tagging because I have the memory of a goldfish, occasional nsfw text reblogs (I guess?).

I write a lot. Asks are welcome! So long as you're respectful, I'm friendly, if you're rude, you'll get blocked. And here's what a majority of people are probably here for:

Magia Record Analyses! (Ao3 version recommended)

"The Many Masks of Touka Satomi"

"Nemu Hiiragi: The Shadow"

"Touka, Nemu, and the White Walls"

"Touka, Nemu, and Self-Perception"

"Nemu and her disability"

"TouNemu and astronomy"

"Memoriae Analysis: Touka and Nemu's personal and flower field memoriae"

"The Greek love styles applied to Touka and Nemu"

"Nemu's Buddhist Self-Flagellation"

"Alina Gray Makes A Lot Of Sense"

"TouNemu and Royalty"

"The Uwasa's Hidden Pattern" (aka Controversy Central, I guess)

Some smaller ones and guest essays will be put here:

"Touka shows affection like cats do"

"Nemu is a sadist" (the Ao3 version is much better put together)

"Touka has boy autism and Nemu has girl autism"

"Touka and Nemu are possessive"

Content made by me or my project partner for the Magia Record Minibang (2024) is tagged on this blog as #minibang24 and content made for the subsequent one is #minibangEoS

My username on discord is also "nahikoate" and my DMs are open, but I will require that you state your purpose in your first DM if I don't personally know you. I'm always delighted to talk about these two more and hear people's thoughts about all of this or about my fics, so no need to be shy.

As for fic plans for the relatively near future, since some people are interested. "Wildly AU" means I got carried away with made up lore for a new setting of some sort, like the fairies in ACOSAM or the masks in Roadkill:

ACOSAM - current project, in progress, wildly AU

(Untitled) TouNemu Relationship Study - likely to be the next project, a longfic taking place throughout the entirety of the canon timeline

(Untitled) Golf - oneshot, in progress, canon timeline

(Untitled) Mother/Father's Day - twoshot, hoping to get it done by next year, canon timeline

(Untitled) Questions To Fall In Love - oneshot, in progress, canon timeline

(Untitled) Roadkill - longfic, folklore inspired, might be a series with some oneshots and one big fic, less wildly AU but still

(Untitled) Tempest - longfic, high trauma content, mythology inspired, wildly AU

(Untitled) ATLA AU - longfic, exactly what it says on the tin, Avatar Ui if you're wondering

(Untitled) Theater - longfic, somewhat of a murder mystery thing, AU

(Untitled? Idk this one's codename is nice) Sakura Ties - longfic, single parent/teacher AU where Sakurako is Nemu's 11 year old adopted daughter and tries to get her mom and favorite teacher together

No promises for anything else. You're encouraged to send asks about these projects if you're curious.

[pealeii]

J HOW DID YOU FIND ALL OF MY OLD LES MIS POSTS

i looked thru all the posts you tagged “les mis” 😭🤧

i actually really enjoyed reading thru your thoughts on the Broadway cast recording

I was supposed to be doing homework but got caught up in looking at les mis posts whilst listening to the soundtrack 😭😭 the brainrot is brainrotting

[carpisuns]

I just wanna say I have an old post of yours saved in my drafts, about being a beginner artist…. I look at it sometimes to give me perspective and reassurance. Thank you. It has inspired me to continue my hobby/passion even if I don’t get many notes rn. I improve and I see it! Thats all that matters. Thank you. I hope I can be that for someone someday.

oh wow 😭 this just warmed my heart—thank you for sharing with me. i don't know what post you're talking about specifically, but i'm so glad that something i said could give you a little extra boost sometimes<3

it's both cool and sort of embarrassing that this blog is a record of my entire art journey. i didn't start learning how to draw until i got into ML and joined tumblr again about 3.5 years ago, so it has my very earliest art as well as my most recent. the other day my sister and i went through my art tag and i was literally crying with laughter at some of those pieces alskjdf (particularly this one). they're sooo bad but they were my best work at the time! as much as i cringe to look at them now, it's nice to remember how far I've come. There are still so many things I struggle with and things i disappoint myself about, but that's normal because I am still growing. no one stops growing. the artists you look up to the most, whose work seems absolutely flawless to you, are still growing.

and YOU are growing too! whether you feel like you are or not. sometimes it takes looking back to realize it. i'm really glad you can see your improvement! honestly, that's a skill too! having a healthy mindset about your own development can take a lot of internal work so I'm really proud of you for that.

(i got very rambly so cut for the rest lol)

and honestly sometimes the improvement isn't even about what the art looks like—it can just be about how you feel about making it. I think one of my biggest improvements in the last year was getting comfortable with drawing and sharing things that are Bad and Ugly! for example:

the first one i drew 3 years ago, just a few months into learning how to draw. the second one i drew about a month ago. they both have obvious flaws and you could even argue that the old one is better drawn than the newer one. so it's like omg did i not improve at all after over 3 years?? did i actually get worse? lol. no! because a lot of the improvement is internal.

you'll notice that the first one was done in pencil and the second one is pen. it took me years to feel confident enough to sketch in pen because you can't erase! you have to commit to the lines! you can actually see tons of erase marks in the first one, but i didnt even use my white-erase tape at all on the second one. also, the first one is a screen redraw. i was just looking at the image and trying to replicate what i saw the best i can. the second one is new scenes/poses that came from my brain—not that they are very complicated/impressive lol, but there's a difference there. and what you can't see at all is just my attitude about drawing them! i can't particularly remember doing the first one but i guarantee i spent forever on it and was nervous about posting it. second one probably took me 7 mins and i knew it was ugly but i was zero percent embarrassed about that lol. that's progress baby!! cant even tell you how much of a difference it has made to me to let myself draw ugly things. i draw ugly things all the time. some of them get posted online. some of them get shared with one or two friends. some of them get shared with no one. and i've finally learned how to either embrace them as what they are or just shrug it off and go, "you know, this is not it! moving on." blank pages are so intimidating because you have a million opportunities to mess things up, but you also have a million opportunities to explore and learn and experiment and have fun and also to surprise yourself with what you're capable of.

i started out with nothing but a pencil and some powerful blorbo brainrot, and that was enough! that has been enough to power me through years of all the struggles and triumphs that artists go through. it was enough to help me push through every art block and keep drawing to the point that my instincts have improved and things that used to be almost impossible for me are just regular hard lol. i've actually illustrated for a print magazine a few times now, and a few weeks ago i finished my first animatic—which i always wanted to do but didn't have the skill or confidence for.

sorry this is so long, i'm just very passionate about this subject lol!! i just want every growing artist to know that if you keep trying and having fun, improvement is not only possible but inevitable. like, you don't even have to do formal studies if you don't want to. keep looking at art that you like and figuring out what is appealing to you. keep drawing what you feel like drawing. if you're no longer inspired by a piece or it's a little too tough for you right now, it's ok to drop it. you can come back later or never. you have infinite opportunities to make new and better art. and don't forget to give yourself credit for the progress you've already made. it's so hard not to compare yourself to others, and literally everyone—even the best and brightest—feels bad about their work sometimes. but try to compare yourself to your past self and pat yourself on the back for your improvement! it's okay to grow slowly, or in a way that's not so visible on the outside. just remember that you are growing, and you will only get better and better.

also, side note about notes/likes: i know it sucks to feel like your work is not getting attention when you poured a lot into it :( this might sound rich coming from me because i feel that people have been incredibly generous toward my work from the very beginning. but just know that popularity is not really about who "deserves" what, and it's not an accurate reflection of skill either. so if you feel unseen, that doesn't mean your stuff sucks. and you never know what your work might have meant to the people who saw it, even if there aren't that many. art doesn't have to be popular to be meaningful, and it doesn't have to be perfect either.

the world is a little richer and more beautiful because of the ways you are growing and the things you are sharing. so thank you, and please don't stop.

[gaylittlewizardcat]

ik you did this earlier in the month but 💝🐀🐕

My pinned post says you can ask me anything from the jellicle asks tag no matter how old and I mean that >:3 thank you!

💝 Jemima or Victoria?

I love them both a lot and I think they’re both super interesting characters, but I’ll have to go with Victoria cause I just brainrot about her more <3

🐀 “The old Gumbie Cat” or “Skimbleshanks the Railway Cat”?

This one is mean and evil I love them both so much how could I possible choose. They’re both these “the Jellicles are a big ol’ family who love and celebrate each other” numbers. Gonna go with Old Gumbie Cat, specifically the OLC recording with all the verses, but they’re both GREAT

🐕 Pekes or Pollicles?

Pollicles, cause they’re Pollicle dogs like Jellicles are Jellicle cats, y’know? Dogs that are Pollicle.

[maoist-mizer]

Thanks for tagging me @swordfaery :3

Rules: shuffle your ‘on repeat’ playlist and post the first 10 tracks, then list 10 songs you really like, each by a different artist. then tag 10 people to do the same thing.

I know I don’t have to but don’t mind me I’m also going to be talking a bit about these songs

Ftp by MASTER BOOT RECORD -> I found this song by looking for music for my Faith: The Unholy Trilogy playlist, I don’t think I’ve come across synthesised heavy metal before so this was quite interesting. Their side project Keygen Church is also pretty good, if anything I’d recommend that over MASTER BOOT RECORD given their use of organ and sick ‘classical Baroque influence’.

White Noiz by Akira Yamaoka -> I recently was watching Gab Smolders’ playthrough of Silent Hill, so I decided to check out the franchise’s various soundtracks. It’s not my favourite song but I like the atmosphere.

Roygbiv by Boards of Canada -> I’ve been checking out IDM so obviously BoC were a staple to get into. I haven’t really connected with much of their music but this is one of the ones that I really like. I find it fascinating that the album is entirely instrumental save for some audio clips of old Sesame Street episodes sporadically scattered throughout. I’m not sure if there’s a reason why this song was titled Roygbiv, but I do think either way it fits with the aesthetic and atmosphere (as for those who don’t know Roygbiv is an acronym listing the colours of the rainbow: Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue, Indigo, Violet).

Somebody Told Me by The Killers -> I just wanted to listen to all of Hot Fuss, but I do find it funny that I knew this song first from Måneskin’s cover of it.

Sonne by Rammstein -> Ah yes one of the songs I’ll put on while pacing for hours thinking about my blorbos and OCs. Certified vampire song.

Ladykillers by Lush -> towards the end of last year I was watching Gregg Araki’s filmography and checking out shoegaze bands which is how I got around to Lush. I wish i could look half as cool as Miki Berenyi does with bright red hair.

Little Girls by Oingo Boingo -> the JoJo brainrot is real so I decided to check out Oingo Boingo since they were referenced in the show, to be honest there’s no way I can describe their music other than it just being tasty. It’s great, I want to eat it. And it always feels very awkward having to explain how this (so far) is my favourite song by them and no it is not weird I prommy.

Halls of Illusions by Insane Clown Posse -> Nothing much to say, certified juggalo moment.

Theme of Laura by Akira Yamaoka -> once again Silent Hill brought me here, tho this is my favourite track so far from the soundtracks.

Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge -> I’m always on the look out for more goth music in whatever form it comes in, I’ll have to check the rest of their stuff out for more goth rock. That being said this probably just ended up on my ‘on repeat’ playlist due to it being on an OC’s playlists lol.

Now for the next 10 songs that I really like:

Tagging: @loverlesbian @sarenite @tigraine-mantear @femtopulsed @croissantcitysucks @deadrunin @mercymorncristabel @astridcookie @smarterthantheaverageloser @arofication (also no pressure if you don’t want to do this)

[sunnyrifle]

[Majima!y0 x Morita] part II

this is just brainrot (Majima!y0 and Majima!kiwami+ and Morita = threesome) they make rounds in my brain so,,, enjoy (?)

tags!!: Mature ▪️ crossover ▪️ threesome

⚠️⚠️unedited, also NO ONE in this conversation is a native english speaker (some parts were translated or held in other languages as well)⚠️⚠️

Akira: they want me to put old as hell and young Majima, in a depression ponytail 24 years old, in one room and record them copulate

and when they're hot and dirty I can push Morita in there on top of it

younger Majima topping his old man self, first more so despising him as an unsophisticated and probably a crook who turned the way he did bc he's a murderer deep into the game already, but then like more so seeing under the surface and trying to understand how he himself can turn out like that... since it's him but older right... and they kinda have sweet time, probably have a small kiss initiated by the younger bc he just "felt so" - turned passionate and more obscene by the older one, probably just turned into competition with old guy chuckling and the younger just smirking once-- 

Rene: You have younger Majima passing his fingers through each of the scars he still doesn’t have. Character exploration + porn my beloved, you kinda described this. It’s like pwp but with feelings on the mix

Akira: enter Morita, probably led there by a leash khahah we already know by who … but let's say it's two guys who are chilling in afterglow and they receive a newbie, whole naked cute guy in a collar and chain, hair tied neatly and no skin touched by tattoos? i bet they'd touch him all around for that hahah why not remember a one night stand guy who's as white and fair as a virgin for them (bet both Majimas only get fucked by other yakuza lol, now they get to touch someone who's a lady fair skin? cute)

one tugging Mori by the chain, the other holding his neck and under the chin and mouthing over his nape and shoulder blades, yet it's the older one who gets to his ass to check it all slicked up and ready, younger Majima already humping over his backside in the meantime, eager to go hehehe 

Morita who's like lowering his face and squirmy, all too shy that there's his dick lying over a much older guy's stomach covered in scars, his hand reaches to the chest covered in tattoo but it winces half way through. Majima (older one) grabs his wrist and just pushes it over his boob, like, "here's have a grab" and Morita is like whimper but eyes flying open and of course he can't rly say no, he wanted that after all... so of course he'd touch it, while Majima is all sly tilt of the head and watching him licking his lips, fingers digging into his ass, yet the guy is groping his tits and blushing over it... probably younger Majima just getting irritated these two flirt and don't give him a second thought, so he takes Morita's hips and tugs him closer to his own side, fingers retracting with an awful wet sound, but then older Majima goes like "oi, what's the rush now? Maji-chan, let the virgin have his fill first, he looks shy to start", Majima grunts but decides yeah whatever... so there's two guys watching an old grey haired man spreading his legs for anyone to claim hahah, Majima just nudging Morita like, go ahead with a tilt of his nose. He's shy as hell like what, he can just? go? but eventually his chain is tugged, he gets pushed from behind too, dick pressed into old man hole, Morita whimpering yet rutting without much control, eventually he just obeys and grabs Majima's ink covered buttocks and gets his dick wet, not without a notice old man's ass was already full with seed even before him heheh younger Majima though not sparring much attention to whatever they do instead presses into Morita and gets his own hips to move, gets whiny guy to moan oh so fast, his shoulders trembling and he's huffing heavily 

"I can feel you throbbing in me like crazy, so cuuute~" and rubbing his nape in praise heheh

it'd be adorable of course if Morita gets fucked like crazy, swings of hips not forgiving and the only frictions the older Majima gets are like the aftermath of what the younger does, not Morita actually moving by himself;; eventually of course Morita does get back his footing, he's all rushed and gets louder, one Majima who's not vocal grunts and covers his backside in teeth thinking "he's tight-" and older fully using his voice instead praising him like "your cock's delicious, so big and filling me nicely!" and Morita's a mumbling mess of "noo, don't say that-" while he doesn't have much liberty to stop, gets pounded from behind anyway-- would be cute if he doesn't last, but then he gets shoved over older Majima to lay over him, dick still inside him, he's all waisted and pretty loud yet younger Majima is still going, the wet sounds and grunts, Morita who's pressed into chest tattoo and drooling over the ink and trying to grab other's shoulders, eventually Majima rubs his head, hushes him, guides his arms so he'd fully embrace his neck, eventually both Morita and Majima are loud, he finishes in yet another guy's ass with a trembling smirk-- and then Morita feels how his ponytail is getting pushed to the side, his nape traced with lips, he's hugging another guy, he's pressed between two hot strong covered in ink from shoulders to ass bodies-- "oh, did you just throb? little boy's excited for second round?" and Morita just whimpers and hides his face into one of Majima's shoulders not watching to see any of them, which is an answer in itself

and the older Majima's addressing his younger self like "wanna try squeezing it in him together? he looks like a big boy, wonder if he'd handle that" and Morita's eyes fly open like ?! but all he does is squeezing Majima who he lays over on tight, like "no? can we not do that to my butt?" not like he's left a choice it seems, just the younger Majima just goes and says "yeah, why not" brushing behind his own hair getting out of the ponytail haha

Rene: Nothing a lot of preparation can’t fix, besides he would only need to lay there and take it all

Akira: khaha first Morita is hella shy that he's getting spread even further with cum dripping out of him for eyes of two solid men (they're both kinda older than him, just in different aspects heheh) and then he's getting squeezed in between and wrings himself out, all squirmy and needy for any support he can receive when he gets doubled down hehehe

Rene: Love this, Morita just finishing too soon while the other two are still hard hehe, younger Majima continuing getting Morita overstimulated and a mess that keeps drooling over older Majima, if he can’t keep up then he would need to use his hands and give such a messy handjob but older Majima just guides him on what to do

Younger Majima fucking his older self through Morita like he is a condom between the two 🥰

Akira: objectification at it's finest, he already filled older one in any case, now he can do it secondhand, not blaming anyone but Morita for even being in between them hehehe

Rene: Morita gets compliments for even just taking them fully, kisses on his neck and shoulder trying to distract him, more compliments as they start to move

Akira: if Morita gets praised along the way he's probably at the point of no return. first gets overstimulated, then a shaky smile appears and then he reaches heavens getting all too much at all times huhu;;

but also if anyone tells him to be a good boy and take it, yet not finish- oh he would be so glad to try so so diligently yet who knows, maybe he'll still fail and whimper about it hhehe

Rene: If he tries then he would probably tighten his hole making the other two comment on it, dirty talk + compliments

Akira: also Morita giving two guys a blowjob, as he has to switch between one dick getting his hand then the other getting his mouth, is also delicious, tho eventually he just have to sit back down and just hold two butts to each other with tattoos pressed to each other and make a pretty view as he's there fully naked, open mouth with vapour from it and saliva rolling down his chin, and he gets his pretty face dirty, being red to his ears, lowering it with a quivering lip and narrowed in shame eyes all while getting pets over his hair, under his chin, invisible tail wagging hehe

super cute, i think Morita would crumble very easily tbh, his kink for old men who are already all white haired aside hahaha maybe that's why Majima, who's actually very vocal when older, is a good match for him just as well

despite tough appearances I bet the younger one would be gentler to him tho

Rene: He acts like he wouldn’t but he would; I want the two to fuck Morita’s mouth to little to no mercy though

But also, having to give a blowjob while riding another dick and Morita can’t stop either because he has to give a good service. He runs a lot so his legs won’t get tired so easily then question is how long would his chin endure being wide open

Akira: hehe if younger Majima is the one on the bed he can make all kinds of satisfied faces while Morita is so forceful with his riding, all he has to do is sit down and hold his hands behind his back, while Morita's the one to do all the work... and then when Morita is finished, he can't really close his mouth even, he's a pretty dirty and his mouth is slack, yet in gratitude it'd be the younger one who kisses Morita's temple and massages his jawline - which in turn receives older Majima commenting "aw two dobermans licking each other, adorable yet fucked up animals you are" hahah

I think they'd try to make it fit double even in his mouth, Morita who can barely fit two heads pressed to each other very closely, and Majima who'd complain "less teeth, sunshine" while sunshine mentioned is getting close to no air for even trying to attempt it khahaha

Rene: That “sunshine” would make him try harder

I wonder how long would Morita be able to do his tasks without any help, him getting close to his own climax but not wanting to be the one to finish first (again) so he kinda stops for the moment to pull himself together just for younger Majima to take him by the hips and make him move again and Morita can’t complain because there’s a dick in his mouth 

But also, if he finish but the other haven’t he would need to continue, his legs trembling, eyes half closed, saliva and precum coming out of his mouth, trying his best to catch his breath

Akira: man overstimulated Morita tugged by his chain? damn exciting no matter the many much noises he produces hahaha

he should probably close his legs somehow to make it tighter, yet all he can do is whimper and humm, his throat is vibrating yet he's close to passing out, which makes the blowjob not very satisfying in turn haha

Rene: Overstimulation makes him cry but he doesn’t wanna stop because it feels so good and he isn’t an idiot to let go of two older men treating him so nicely

Akira: hehe gets fucked into oblivion and gets no break in between no matter if he's already exhausted and overstimulated - "aw they treat me so nicely" haha

Rene: Trying to close his legs but they are separated by Majima’s body so there’s not much he can do but he tries

Akira: i mean he gets praise and some kisses, and they sometimes pat his head or get hair out of his face (not the dirt it collects tho haha) so Morita is probably thinking this is the best thing he can receive, ever

also I think younger Majima would probably consider Morita even more young than himself in terms of experiences and cruelty done to him, even if Morita's seasoned he's still not like- tortured like he was, and he's in one piece, just scars over his thighs and forearms of old cuts, so- he probably looks out for him bc he thinks he should treat the guy well enough as it he's caring for his much younger self when he was still not much into yakuza and had both of his eyes just as well

Rene: “Treat him well enough” shoves two dicks in Morita’s ass

Akira: Morita is glad this is just a mindless fuck tho, bet his heart flips when it's with Ginji and he ends up crying in the middle of it more so than not- let it be tears of overstimulation only instead haha

Rene: Imagine them thinking Morita would be more… active? Extrovert in bed? But nope, he likes to get compliments and smiles when he gets told he is good at taking it

If Morita cries during sex he definitely uses the overstimulation as an excuse and I wonder how much Ginji believes that because he isn’t stupid… well a little

Akira: ofc, haha it'd be so cute if Ginji remembers Mori as a guy who cries during sex ...and then cries after sex too LOL

bet that's where half of allegations of Ginji that Morita's his woman comes from, he's like "aw but he's so teary eyed with me in the bed all the time"

Rene: Now I want Majimas to tease him and give him nothing just to see what he does

Akira: haha I mean they did bad initially, if you instead make Morita teased to death not giving him anything, ofc he'd lash out and get more aggressive, yet he's instead shy it's two older guys who are so cool with their tattoos and eyepatches, ofc he'd bottom and be that lamp between two wolves instead

Akira: give back the leash to owner's hand and tell them Morita's on the diet until the next time, they'd pay plenty... so a no-no even for self touching and Morita's on edge upon just walking into the room fully dressed, not to mention if he doesn't receive much and instead has to keep his clothes on for longer than necessary, long-play it is

Rene: Hopefully he doesn’t dirty his pants

Akira: he's like "why do i have to pour you whiskey, didn't you pay for- yknow-" and both of them keep touching him like he's a pet yet never order to take care of them more than small entertainment and basically escort, so Morita's sitting there hands between his legs and hutching forward, red bc he's hard for longer than not, yet no one orders him to do anything, just be a good sight haha

Rene: Morita is now just a host that has to entertain them

Akira: i mean eventually you can touch him, like, just rub him through his pants, grope his ass, but never much more, so Morita's the one who's whiny like "please can we proceed further, please I was so ready for it" until he's still ignored like an annoying fly and literally a single touch is electrifying for him- eventually snaps at some pointy comment like "you're just a bitch in heat at this point, look at you just sitting there almost rutting into the sofa" and Morita is like 💢 I'll show you bitch in heat, shoving older Majima to the sofa and unbuckling his own pants (younger Majima behind them is like 😯 wow)

Rene: Also imagine after him pouring wine for the two Majimas he just sit on the ground like this 🧎 so he can’t hide his erection at all and older Majima just goes “oh? What’s this?” And touches him but only with his shoe and through the pants but Morita is so needy his hips move before he can think making the other two chuckle

Akira: khehe he should receive the worst behaviour from them both, like, the older Majima is just always a menace, but the younger needs to finally relax and feel at power for once, if Morita's a gift from his older self to top and be mocking about, then he'd surely appreciate that he can relax like this, not serving but getting served now

also if someone thinks of getting Morita to forcefully drink from the glass held to his lips (don't spill it over your nicely ironed shirt!) while the other claps and coos, then Morita's even more ruthless cuz ofc he's even drunk on top of it

Rene: Younger Majima seeing how much Morita can take by degrading him

Akira: literally taking it as to challenge Morita's limits, I know 😋

Rene: Younger Majima should do it, “come on, we can’t be the only ones drinking, I’ll give you some but if you drop even one single drop then…” and he doesn’t finish the sentence but Morita is nervous, the alcohol they’re drinking is forced down his throat faster than he can swallow so of course some falls from his mouth, leaving a trace down his neck and shirt

But also, some drops on the floor and on Majima’s shoes so of course Morita has to clean the mess he created 🥰

Akira: also younger Majima who knows Morita's actually rly into being degraded in such ways, has a nice place to vent his customer service frustration and if Morita is not excellent enough, he always remarks just how bad it is "you wouldn't get a single tip from me if I was an actual client", "can't believe that someone would ever order you as an escort, you just suck" and "worst girl to chat with, but at least your cleavage is bouncy enough"

Rene: Humiliated and drunk he would jump on younger Majima maybe with the idea of punching him but he is still horny and their bodies are touching, his brain doesn’t work properly and he just starts undressing Majima, just doing whatever he wants as a payback

Akira: younger Majima who's all excited smiles and older who's watching it cracking up yet urging "go go, Mori-chan, show this bastard your actual customer service skills!" (prob eventually with a teasing slap to his ass lol)

Morita would be rabid, he'd glare at older’s side like he's a feral dog, all vengeful khaha

Rene: Hell yes, and if younger Majima tries to resist then his older self is there to help Morita

Older Majima moving to grab his older self’s arm and force them behind young Majima back telling Morita to do as he pleases

Akira: aw it'd be cute if older Majima is the one who's tugging Morita off just to wait a little, to not hurt the younger one at least, ends up with young Majima getting prepared right in front of Morita's eyes (who's probably tied up to the chair else he's fighting and just getting what he wants without much thought spared haha)

Rene: Older Majima would act like a mediator and an instructor

Call him Cesar Millan the way he knows how to teach Morita to be a good dog

Akira: also two black ponytails swinging as Morita's just gnawing into Majima's ass is super cute hahaha I bet he'd enjoy and eventually join just because he can't bear just watching them being puppies (for his age difference Majima 24 and Morita 22 is totally the puppies there) get them into collars, both, interconnect them by one leash khaha

also would be cute if it's old Majima who gets dicked down by them two this time, obv after Morita has vented his initial frustration on the younger one first haha

Rene: Also handcuff them together

“Puppies need a reward so here it is,” he says once Morita has calmed down. This is how he makes them bond

Akira: damn-- we had two dicks one mouth, now imagine two mouths and yet only an older guy's dick

Rene: The two of them fighting over who gets to have it on their mouth

Both trying to do the blowjob, licking it and their tongue touch and they start to kiss with the dick in between

Akira: since their hands are useless and they can't reach each other any other way it's either them biting each other or passionately making out by their tongues fighting it off instead haha

Rene: Older Majima would have a hard time not to finish in record time with that view

Akira: i knooow, he'd also be a smug huge asshole about it haha just sitting there with huge grin, and if they stop or get less heated he can just make them angry with another comment or two

"i like Maji-chan mouth more" - Morita gets teary eyed and averts his gaze sharply to the side

"i like Mori-chan mouth more" - Majima huffs in annoyance and bites older's inner thigh leaving a hickey

Rene: Morita: oh really? No blowjob then >: (

He gets told that just to be complimented the very next second

Akira: ikr!! "aw but wouldn't you try again to prove me wrong?" Morita shakes his head "but you were so close to beating him at it" Morita lifts his shoulders but still doesn't look back "and your mouth is much warmer btw, you're rly hot as a guy" Morita tries to conceal his tail wagging lazily yet side-eyes Majima again

Rene: The more praises he gets the more you see it gets harder for him to not smile

Meanwhile younger Majima: ? Do I keep sucking or...?

Akira: ikr-- also wouldn't it be sweet if Morita gets a turn, he's all smiles and super sweet and caring taking dick over his tongue again, younger Majima is just nudging his cheek with his in silent support, yet it's Morita who closes his eyes with eyebrows lifted as if he's super happy and corners of the lips actually lifted up too haha

Rene: Yes!! Younger Majima is just letting having it as an apology for all the teasing he gave him before (also because Morita sucking dick is hot!)

Akira: haha them both quite mesmerized looking at good boy taking it, yet even if Majima would finish he'd still love to see both of their faces dirty, it's just that it's Morita who's mouth open wide and Majima who's lazy tongue tip out only khaha

Rene: They need to kiss before swallowing whatever got into their mouths too

Akira: Majima probably gets super annoyed if anything dirties his eye patch like that, in a haze of running hot he forgets Morita never seen him taking it off, so as he cleans it, he notices Morita very much staring at his scarred eye, and goes "ah- that silly old thing? it's- um, doesn't matter, it doesn't hurt now" and tries to turn his face the other way so Morita wouldn't watch it so attentively, yet instead, feels Morita cupping his cheek under it, not letting him go

he's surprised yet doesn't move against it, watches Morita lean closer and go "nonetheless... I'm sorry this happened to you" and before he can even say anything Morita lays the smallest tender kiss right over the eyelid and Majima's heart melts and he's all quiet stunned not moving too, older one aww-ing and patting Morita's hair at that-- and Mori notices he must've done this very unprompted, setting Majima on edge in embarrassment, so he leans in again but "also the freckle is cute, you hide it under the eyepatch so I would've never known" and rubs tip of his nose over it and Majima is like "no no, cmon-- loverboy, you're so annoying-- haha, stop-- your face is dirty, Morita--"

next time around if he gets it dirty Morita's not shy to just roll his tongue over it, displacing it somehow khaha

Rene: Then kiss the freckle because who knows when would he get the chance again

Akira: Morita who's aggressive cuz he was taken advantage of and teased to hell - turned super tender as soon as his needs (with degradation kink lol) are met

Rene: It would be a confusing change the first time for sure but they would be like “whatever, he’s hot”

Akira: it only solidifies his dog image, feed it and it would wag its tail and be loyal to a fault

[fantomette22]

Alright! Like promised I have a couple of things to say and better here than in 100 tags XD

-Oh no worry I can totally understand you're not that interest in her character! For the reasons you explained but also we can't all be fans and have huge autistic brainrot about almost ALL the characters (except a bit me but especially @katyspersonal who will absolutely love and even found great interest in all the more obscure ones! 😂). We all have our lil favs ones who make us go a bit feral. And yeah tiring stuff online can be a huge turn off... (still she became one of my fav and literally fav boss before I really went to see things online too)

-But also I mean... I absolutely love her, like you can imagine, but lore wise she's clearly not one of the most important characters (even our dear Ludwig is way more important with descriptions etc) What I mean is that a lot of things are up to interpretations about her. Yes, she had links & knew very important persons and was there at important moments/lore events but we can't know the degree of her implications in everything. If she wouldn't have been around, I fear not a lot of things would have been different in the main general lore, or other people would have assume a similar role to her. We know she was important at the research hall but to what degree is not clear. Maybe she wrote very important research or had important ideas (like idk the orphanage) but it's literally headcanons and stories ideas. We can never confirm such things (maybe it was lost to time/erase but we'll never know.). I'm sorry but if we don't count the nightmare, literally the most important thing that came from Maria is somehow literally the Doll 💀 (but I will came back to it later) (also adding characters that weren't suppose to exist for the dlc can be tricky. Yeah Maria/Doll weren't suppose to be the same at first)

So yes I can quite understand why some people are just very neutral to her for a couple of reasons. (side eyed Laurence. I will die on the hill he's like one of the most important lore character)

-Aw and thank you too! ^^I have many ideas for her! I always was intrigued and eager to know what her story/backstory was, it feel so interesting! So I did It myself XD ( I literally have an entire very developed thing in my head! but also like 5+ other different origin stories 💀 that clearly can't work together fdfkn that's why I love reading people's interprets on her backstory. ).

-Also yeah Gehrman is my comfort characters too🤝 (don't ask us why the poor depressed, pathetic and very old man is one for us it's just like that).

I will always defend him I think . Like, could never hate him about the doll especially because :

In my opinion, the doll is kind of an hommage to her memory,(I know guys don't hit me yet! let me explain) What I mean is that it's more likely something to remembered she use to exist, to attest her presence? a token? (I don't remember the right words) But at least smt to leave a trace or her passage on earth. Something that would outlive him and prove that she was someone (and important for someone at least), that she used to live in this world.

Yes, people would have no idea who she was but if the doll didn't existed no one would ever know Maria used to existed/ that it was a person. The ones who knew her are all gone (or in dreams /nightmare but you see what I mean). It's more people in the waking world that would have no idea. (sorry I don't count Annalise too bc she can't really rent about her life to people XD and for all we know we only saw her in the game event. When we're link to the dream) And other records of Maria were probably lost or erased a long time ago.

I mean it's like us/ the player. We meet the doll and wonder who's she's based on 🤔 and then dlc happened but without that we'll have no clue.

Also like when men made idols / statues of their gods to show their love (there's literally statues of Moon presence and amygdala around lol well I like the idea the doll could be similar in that way).

*basically wanted to immortalize her

That's how I saw it mainly. But I like very different interpretations of their relationships as well. But the really "weird one" don't vibe with me.

And I won't get started on the doll clothes or you'll loose me for the next hour and I'm lazy to writet another entire essay on that XD but I already wrote about it. I could again... maybe. and I will try not to start on this mistranslation either. Also if the doll was dress like Maria. Wouldn't that be even more weird? 💀

Like there's so many interpretations about it too (and yeah bro have huge problems for sure! but we lack many context, explanations and details on how it exactly went done.) So like of course some are uncomfortable and you can't really justified it I agree but there's literally so many better and more comfortable ones just right there! And I mean it's bloodborne. A fromsoftware game, with dark fantasy and horror behind human comprehension. So we need to put things into perpectives like you said. I think this particular lore bit is just tragic overall ;-;

Anyway I love them. Thanks!

-Also I need to redo them because I got other ideas (and names wow!) but here's some half timeline/ half family tree draft for cainhurst, pthumerians & my fic timeline wow) I suck at editing you and others I know make prettier figures for that XD

Maria & Gehrman for the bingo! :D

(Also I just saw your banner it's so cool and fun XD! And I just saw the freaking timeline post ghjklm going insane it's so cool! I mean I have one too somewhere & I made silly family trees hcs but yours look so nice edited like this! and it really create something cohesive! very well done! 👏)

yeah Powerup who made the banner is insane like that :'} and THANK YOU that's two days on canva babyyyyy (what am i doing with my life)

if you're ok with it i'd love to see your own timeline/family trees though !! hand it over /no pressure 🫶

now for the trouble duo, oh boy

Mary

maria maria maria... mixed feelings. don't get me wrong - i have no criticism on her character, she and her role in the story are extremely interesting and nuanced, and of course she's cool and pretty, but i have this automatic turn-off with most characters who are widely popular like she is. and then i came in the fandom and saw the poor girl surrounded by discourse and it made me So Tired without even getting into it 😂 i can't fully check off "everyone else is wrong about them" because i have few thoughts of my own about her and mostly just stick with the homies' takes.

AND GUESS WHAT said homies' takes are making me want to try to get over that initial turn-off !! i'm still thinking about your post about her love for lumenflowers ! it's !! so !!! cute !!!! and it prompted me to see beyond her boss fight's ice-cool persona - it's only a glimpse of her !! there is more !!! so, it's hopefully underway.

Gehrmy

ALMOOOOST DFGHJKLM i've mentionned him becoming a comfort which i blame on my muses (hunter and laurence) ! so yeah, again, Thoughts are underway

... i don't need to expand much on the rest, i fear you know it better than i do 8''') i'd have liked him just fine as the amazing, tragic, not-quite-mentor final boss he is, but seeing all the vitriol automatically made me like him more, especially since a lot of it is of extremely poor faith X) let him rest...

[no-te-lo-voy-a-dar]

Reprise

Chapter 1 - Not Yet

Fic’s Summary: You are an Asgardian who’s on Earth after a series of events, who ends up taking a spiderling teen vigilante under their wings who’s intrigued to figure out if the other vigilante mentor the kid has is really who the stories tell, wanting to see if it’s true no one can sneak on him or surprise him. But you are the best friend of certain trickster, and some tendencies have rubbed on you…this shall be an entertaining challenge.

Author’s Note: this chapter shouldn’t even exist yet, i have important irl stuff to do, but this moment of brainrot some days ago lasted me enough to still write this. It’s been a while since i’ve written anything for a Reader insert but @raelwrites​ and her works have been very inspiring and serotonin enducing, so, here we are. i have an unfinished spn fic (which, i was writing as i watched the season it takes place in…im still stuck), a witcher one in ao3 and so many on drafts but hey, we are for the vibes. 

no beta reader, this is all on me

Main relationships: Loki/GN Reader (Platonic), Peter/GN Reader (Platonic), [Future] Matt/GN Reader (?)

Warnings: none for this chapter i guess, but well, eventually there might be some usual canon violence and insinuations at not very nice events, but i’ll mention/tag those when needed.

Next Chapter >>

(gifs not mine)

Chapter’s Author’s Note: this is mainly like, introduction of R’s situation, as well as some dynamics that we’ll see later on (let’s pray whatever fixation i have right now allows me to juggle all my fics). Matt is not on this chapter yet but there’s plenty of Loki and Peter, me thinks

tagging: @catmanbowser​​ (look at this absolute madness)

Word Count: 5,068

Midgard was…boring at best, so far.

Sure there were a bunch of foods and drinks you were trying for the first time, thrilling flavours and interesting uses of ingredients still surprising you, as well as sweet treats, and Internet seemed to have a bunch of recorded plays you could watch again and again from the comfort of your chambers, but you couldn’t just go out and ride a horse around if you wanted (apparently), and training had become harder to do when your strength was naturally higher than most of those living under the same roof (and the humans you have learned are stronger in the place you are staying in can’t train with you daily anyways). Not to mention you couldn’t hunt your food and you were missing the certain thrill of providing for your housemates as well as doing small things with the skins and pelts.

Sure you could train against Loki and Thor, or just one of them, but Thor wasn’t there all the time, and it’s been a long time since the training you have with Loki had become more of a coordinated dance. You were too in sync for it to be a true challenge.

And you missed the stars. Old Norns did you miss them.

For some reason you were yet to comprehend, the Midgardian night sky didn’t have visible stars where you currently were. Even when Thor assured you they were visible in other places of this planet, the current area you were bounded to was dark and plain at night, making you long for the Asgardian sky. Apparently human technology has cut their connection with the celestial bodies.

But! You were here, on “Earth” for a reason! A mission of sorts.

+

When the Dark Elves started attacking Asgard, you will forever be thankful to the Old Norns for the fact you were escorting Jane Foster, Thor’s human beloved, as requested from the prince himself, around the palace and wherever she wished to be. You were on guard duty, because Thor didn’t really trust anyone else to protect Jane and treat her with respect. You were not to leave her alone, and thanks to that, you managed to avoid Queen Frigga being killed while defending the human.

She was still injured that time, but after disposing of the enemy and making sure Jane was as okay as she could, you were quick to work on your Queen’s injuries with magic. Healing Seidr wasn’t your strength, as it never is for a single individual, but you got her enough time for the actual healers to arrive and aid her.

Thor had been incredibly grateful, hugging you and carrying you on his shoulder like you were children again.

Loki, on the other hand and somehow, learned that he had sent who could have been his Mother’s killer on her way from his cell, had a breakdown over that and it wasn’t until Frigga herself went to talk to her kid that he seemed to snap out of whatever terrors and doubts plagued his mind.

So, things were written and orders were given for Loki to be sent back to Midgard along with Thor to “pay for his crimes against the humans and offer compensation” or something like that (Odin’s way with words and orders was never your favourite, too many loopholes or unclear instructions) when the battle against Malekith and his people was over with. And you were asked by Frigga and Thor themselves to join the princes.

‘Sometimes my brother seems more like your brother than mine!’ is what Thor told you while patting your back after the hearing with the Throne. Which just means Thor wanted help with guiding his brother’s moral compass.

And you were okay with it really, always up for adventure and learning opportunities. And Loki seemed particularly more relaxed when you agreed. And how could they not! You were their best friend after all, and you were proud of it, no matter what happened. You had a lot of time after and during the preparations for Loki and Thor to catch you up on all what happened since the failed crowning ceremony to the first Dark Elves attack.

With that you felt like the three of you fell into place again. Chipped at the edges, new scratches that didn’t match and some faded colours, but you were in more coordination with each other than you’ve been in decades.

You had known Loki and Thor since you were kids, your family being part of the system and rotations of personal blacksmiths the Royal family had for themselves thanks to your usage of Seidr. Magic had always been present on your bloodline, from both sides of your parents, and while they never really trained it, they made sure to use it to make weaponry more durable and special, infusing it with different conditions, catching Odin’s father’s attention millennia ago and working for them since then.

Members of your family always were well trained in combat, because when a new design was asked for you had to try the weapons, checking balance, durability and how much it might or not vibrate after clashing against other weapons.

Thanks to this, Odin seemed interested in your already good fighting skills as a kid, and sent Lady Sif (when she was just Sif) to battle you, at the time covering saying that he wanted the both of you to test weapons for Thor and Loki, eventually inviting you to his sons’ and “friends” private training sessions.

And you say “friends” because all of you had been picked by Odin to be his older son’s closest teammates, planning for you all to have his back as adults and for him to have a reliable close court when he took over the throne. So, at the time you all weren’t really friends, some of the others more eager to get close to the blonde prince than others, true, but ultimately enjoying having people your age to train with.

But due your family’s inclination with magic, you ended up catching the younger prince’s attention by simply not mocking him for using it sometimes during training, instead asking him how he did certain tricks. They must have told Frigga because not even a season after you started asking Loki to teach you had passed and the Queen had personally asked your family for permission on teaching you beyond what your family’s knowledge was (magic shields, basic wound cleaning spells and some silence covers, using sound and wind manipulation so your movements weren’t trackable, nor the rattling of your armor or weapons on your back).

They were honored to have the Queen teaching you, of course, and you even taught them other spells and poultices to wear between hands and gloves to keep them cooler when handling the forges. But they didn’t seem to like you were closer to the younger prince, particularly more so when he started gaining his trickster reputation and word of you joining him in some of the pranks reached them.

But, you were left to be, and although it wasn’t your favourite activity while growing up, you often seemed to be a buffer of some kind between Thor’s main friends and his brother, along with the older prince himself. And you could always fight them if things got too heated, even offering to wear magical cuffs so you weren’t “cheating”.

You always won, which left you bragging and smug about it. But you were also aware that Sif would be a bigger challenge and probably beat you some times, but she wasn’t the one getting angry at Loki over nothing (yes, you let him get out of the trouble and mess of cutting Sif’s hair on his own).

+

So, you had a solid and nice relationship with the Asgardian princes and agreed to come to Midgard but, since you were also a new face among Thor’s human brothers and sisters in arms, you weren’t really trusted to go on missions with them until they had tested you enough.

But some progress seemed to have gone down the sewers after you mentioned your magic (manifested in deep yellows and gold sparks and colours, differently but complementary to Loki’s green) and started speaking of how Loki and his mother taught you a lot. That seemed to put some people on edge, particularly the archer whose name you could just remember, at the time, had something to do with Hawk.

Whatever, you were fine spending time with Loki, catching up, braiding their hair, practicing your illusions and trying to cook some Asgardian meals with Midgardian ingredients. You both will be okay, and the rest of Thor’s human team will see.

+++

The first to actually join you and Loki in training and talk to you like you weren’t plotting to blow the whole Tower down was the youngest one, the Spider themed kid.

“Peter Parker. Aren’t you Stark’s genius little mentee?” Loki interrupted the kid’s seemingly endless questions about the Bifrost’s magic.

Ah, Peter Parker. Right. Loki was always better with names than Thor or you, or the whole gang back then, only being equally good with memorizing names by Sif.

“Yes? Kind of? I don’t know, anyways, as I was asking, what’s powering the machine you use to make interplanetary jumps?”

Loki was too stunned in general to properly pay attention to the questions, and while you knew you both could answer them, you were too wired and full of energy to burn, the young warrior having stopped both Loki and you while in the kitchen, grabbing some water and snacks to take to the gym. So, an idea came to you.

“Say, young Parker, what if we make a deal?”

That managed to stop him in the middle of whatever rephrasing he was in, and caught the attention of Loki too. Peter arched an eyebrow and leaned back slightly. Good, some doubt could save your life.

“Could you elaborate on that?”

“Well, I’ve heard Thor say you have an impressive strength and reflexes for being so young, and after hearing Stark talk about you I used Internet to search about Spider-Man, your title while on the spider themed suit if I’m correct, and you can stop and lift those big metal boxes of transportation you have, so, what if you join Loki and me on training, no magic from our part, and after we answer all what you want about the Bifrost?”

Loki sent you a glare of them not understanding what you were even planning or thinking, but shrugged, letting you know they were okay with whatever it was. It was harmless, really.

“You promise to not use magic?” the kid leaned back in, but he still had his face scrunched.

“Not today, sure. At most, the only magic you might see me use would be to cool our water bottles or summon us some towels.” you twirled your hand to demonstrate, the kitchen counter yellow towel popping on your hand, and you twirled it again to put it back where it was, although crumpled now.

That seemed to catch the kid’s attention, his mouth opening slightly and his frown being replaced by wonder and curiosity. You winked at Loki with a smile, and they snorted while rolling their eyes, a small smile on their face.

Peter’s eyes went from the towel to your face, then to Loki’s (who arched an eyebrow at him) and back to you.

“Okay, sure. Let’s go to a training room.”

“Yes!” you did a small gesture of victory, to which the other two laughed slightly. You were excited to finally get to train with someone else who you didn’t know for centuries. And he must be a great fighter! What with being Stark’s menteé and visiting the Tower often.

Right?

+++

He wasn’t.

Sure, Peter Parker wasn’t completely helpless in a fight, there was some training there, but very basic. The start of it. And he could dance around your punches and kicks with a great level of grace, but the moment you and Loki coordinated your attacks, still no magic, the kid started struggling.

You were currently on a break, Loki leaning against the wall, you mindlessly spinning a stick around like you would your spear were you taunting someone, and Peter sprawled on the floor.

“What do you mean Stark didn’t train you?” you tried to not show your anger but this was a child in every sense of the word.

“And still doesn’t, remember.” Loki’s voice was detached, but you knew him better than to know that’s how he felt, he just knew that between the two of you he was the one being monitored by the voice in the Tower.

Peter groaned before answering.

“Guys, it’s okay, really. I started doing this almost two year ago on my own, before Mr. Stark even knew about me.”

“Okay, that’s a whole other thing to talk about, but I don’t think we are the best to judge when you started going out and fighting, much less with our perception of human age but you are already a small child anyways.” Loki was nodding along your words, and Peter dragged his hands over his face while sighing. “And okay, but what about after? Why do you come to the Tower so often then? Do any of the others train you?” Norns, you sounded like your own father and Queen Frigga.

“I mean, sometimes when they have time and I do too they spar with me and give me tips. Natasha is the one that helps me the most? But she’s, really busy, and I come here to work on tech projects with Mr. Stark, mostly.” Peter was sitting down now.

You tilt your head, trying to understand what Peter does with the short man.

“He means they work on armor and things like the phone you have and other Midgardian things they use to substitute magic or to get a basic version of some of our own technology.” Loki translated to you and Peter smiled while nodding.

You hummed, while still flipping the stick on your arms and back, launching it to a dummy on the back of the room before talking again.

“What if I offered to train you?”

“What?”

“I could help too.”

Peter’s and Loki’s voices clashed, and when Peter’s brain caught up with what the prince said, turned his head faster than you’ve seen him move before, only to get a small smile and a shrug from the God.

“I don’t have a lot to do while imprisoned here Parker, might as well do something productive and useful. Besides, if my friend here is going to teach you, you will want someone to make sure you learn the proper stances and not whatever they’ve come up with over the years.”

“Hey!”

Peter chuckled at that a little, and twirled his fingers with the string on his pants, pondering the answer to give you.

“I mean, I already have someone who’s willingly training me on a solid schedule, but I would like to complement his training with whatever you could teach me.”

“Is this person the reason you at least know how to stand and throw punches without breaking your fingers?” Loki asked, the amusement both visual on his smirking face and audible on his voice.

“Yes? But the backflips and dodging are mostly me.”

“Yeah I bet.” you whispered, originally thinking only you and Loki would hear it, but when Peter huffed and frowned at you, you were surprised by the realization this enhanced human also had better senses.

Hmmm, whenever you and Loki started training him with magic things will be interesting.

+++

You trained Peter two days a week, one during school days, when he didn’t have to go join Stark and the other during saturday evenings. Whoever was training Peter had fridays scheduled with him, but after some time you started to guess they meet more often than once a week.

Peter was a fast learner, but after a big improvement of his basics you and Loki stopped noticing big chunks of advancement, which was normal, but were highly surprised by Natasha, the Black Widow, joining you both for a lazy dinner one night.

Most of the Avengers were in the Tower that week, so Loki and you had been allowed to go out to the city, being told there were enough of them around to restrict Loki were he to go rogue, so you two were kind of tired that night after coming back. More so when Thor asked to spar right after you entered the common area.

So when Romanoff took a seat in front of Loki and you, you startled a little, being slightly dozing off while slowly eating at your cereal until then. Loki was more conscious, although he just pulled his plate with cookies closer to him while eyeing the spy.

“Relax, I’m not here to take your food or attack you, I just wanna chat.”

“Mmm, no, yeah, that just makes you sound more suspicious.” was Loki’s answer, which was honestly funny because it was nothing but an obvious remark, so you couldn’t help the throaty snort you tried to cover with your hand. Natasha arched an eyebrow at you, but it didn’t feel angry just…amused.

“Fair. Right to the point then: thank you for helping Peter. He’s greatly improved since last time we trained together and when I asked him about it he said you both had a hand in that. And another person he didn’t mention but I’m pretty sure of my guess over who that is, based on the fighting style. But your styles were more present, at least today.” Natasha made a pause on her small speech, probably expecting or allowing either Loki or you to make a comment, but you were too stunned to speak surprised (and slightly embarrassed) to say anything.

She smiled and continued.

“Peter was dragged in with us by Tony, but he's…not really done anything to help him other than toss him an improved suit. Which has done a lot in the sense of offering him protection, Peter himself has told me how much less he’s gotten slashed and stabbed now.” the spy fondly smiled at that, probably remembering the teen saying that in a highly excited voice, one Loki and you have heard before. “Bucky and I try to do our best into teaching him how to fight, because he truly lacked any form of formal training, but well, we are busy with Avengers stuff most of the time, so I’m grateful you both took time and patience to do so.”

With her speech finished, she stood up from the small center table, going to make herself some tea, and you turned slightly to look at Loki, hoping to see an answer on how to proceed, but you saw him with raised eyebrows, surprise written all over his face.

So, you were going to answer then. Great.

“You are most welcomed, Agent Romanoff. It has been a pleasure and fun to train young Peter, not to mention it has given us both more to do around here. He’s a sweetheart and I’m pretty sure he’s gotten everyone here wrapped around his sticky fingers, Loki included.” the last comment was meant to be a playful jab, you bumping shoulders with your friend, but when Loki started talking you realized he wanted to be truthful right then, at least regarding Peter.

“My friend here is right, he’s a delightful young man, and I’m proud of him. From what you are telling us, he’s truly been picking up, and knowing it’s helped keep him safe is all we could truly ask for.”

You could see him slightly blush, faith blue (which after the revelation of his heritage explained that; young you thought it was due his own magic) tainting his cheeks, but you decided against teasing him. This time.

Natasha nodded before taking a sip of her tea, and over thinking the talk was over but feeling comfortable with the silence, you went back to eating your cereal, shaking the box in her direction in a form of question and offering. She shook her head and you shrugged. Loki offered her a seat again, and she took it, and you all spent the next minutes in peace.

You were preparing the usual spicy hot cocoa Loki and you had after particularly odd and long days when Natasha stood up to leave, but before turning a corner and leaving your sight, she spoke once more.

“I will seek you both later to schedule a sparring match. The three of us only, and maybe Barnes if he’s up to it. Would you be okay with it?”

You shrugged and nodded, looking at Loki because really, he was the wild card here.

“Of course! I would appreciate the chance of fighting you under more fair rules, and I’ve heard Rogers and Barnes are both enhanced so it must be interesting.”

With that, the spy softly smiled and left.

Neither Loki nor you brought up all of what had happened into conversation. You both were there and just needed to think a little to understand it. And that you did, while curled up together watching a cooking competition show, Thor arriving and flipping on top of you both, laughing at your groans and playful shoves.

You fell asleep between the two dork royal siblings, content and excited for things to start getting brighter for Loki.

+++

Things indeed started getting a lot better at the Tower after Natasha and Bucky became sparring buddies with you both, Barnes even once going out of his way to ask Loki to spar with him, both using nothing but (training, blunt) knives. Loki was vibrating out of the seat when asked, trying to keep composure because it had been months since he was allowed near even fake knives, only allowing him to use the kitchen ones under supervision (the Tower Voice being said supervision most of the time).

After that the next ones to approach Loki were Rogers and Wilson, and in your case Barton and Banner. Mind you, you mixed some last names on occasions, and forgot their titles still, but you were working on that.

Training Peter was still a given, and Loki was allowed and invited out of the Tower more and more, sometimes Rogers even asking for Loki to glamour them up so they weren’t recognized and could enjoy in complete peace their walks or whatever. Eventually Loki was allowed out on his own with nothing but a tracker he was pissed about wearing but allowed it for his own sanity.

You were allowed out on your own weeks before Loki of course, and used this to walk with Peter a lot, who enjoyed rambling about his city, about places he thought you would enjoy, about things he wanted Loki to try and everything in between, even retelling how he got into thigh fights in some places of the city.

You were currently in an area Peter had called Soho, doing emphasis in how it wasn’t meant to be confused with England’s Soho.

Curious, you had asked if he could show you the place where he trained with Daredevil (whose vigilante name you’ve gotten simply because Natasha had asked Peter one day, just to then tell him that if he ever did something wrong to or with Peter, that he could trust them, to tell any of the members at the Tower. That day it was only Natasha and you training Peter, Loki being out in the city with Barnes and Thor, but you could see Peter tense a little at how the spy said ‘you know Stark cares about you’. You saved that reaction for later, but Peter had just asked how she knew it was Daredevil, and that it was okay, he was surprisingly more soft once he learned Peter’s - Spider-Man’s - age).

Peter seemed to have been thinking about it, but you reassured him it was more out of curiosity than protectiveness nor trying to see if “the place was up to expectation”. A partial lie, but Peter said that Daredevil was very, very protective of his identity, perhaps as much as himself, but how the older vigilante was more aggressive in his approach regarding the secret, while Peter was more of an anxious ball. It made sense to you, really, after all Peter was still a child, and already with a lot on his shoulders.

You nodded, already having made up your mind about dropping the topic, when Peter’s voice sounded again.

“I could take you to the neighborhood it’s in it tho. It’s in an area called Hell’s Kitchen, which is known as Daredevil’s territory, even when, if asked, he’s okay to accompany and help other vigilantes outside of his area, but he doesn’t have a transportation method as fast as myself or Mr. Wilson.”

“I’m not going to lie that the area’s name causes me more questions but if you are comfortable with giving me a tour of said place, and it won’t make Daredevil angry with you, then please, lead the way.”

Peter seemed to light up at how his offer was taken positively, and started to talk about how he had meet Daredevil by accident before meeting Stark, having wandered into his area chasing some guys from Brooklyn, and how the older vigilante didn’t like the idea of Spider-Man being an actual kid, how Peter stayed away from Hell’s Kitchen after that, but reaching out tentatively when the Sokovia Accords were being spoken about, because the few things he could find out about them weren’t good for his “after school activities”, and noticing how Daredevil seemed to deflate, a tired sigh leaving his mouth, and explained to him why they were simultaneously good and bad, the bad having a stronger weight if some things weren’t taken away or properly managed.

Peter continued, you making some questions every then and now to keep Peter on track of the main story. It was fascinating. No one had managed to get a lot of information about the other vigilante who trained Peter because almost no one even knew someone else was training him. And it was obvious how much the kid respected and looked up to the older vigilante, while still making comments and jabs at things he didn’t agree on, but from what you could tell, even when the stories were being told from the teenager’s perspective, it was clear he cared about Peter.

And it picked up your interest.

Every adult you’ve meet on Peter’s life had a slightly different approach when it came to protecting and supporting him, and while some were sure that physically he could protect himself pretty well, others taught him things from a more strategist point of view, or gave him life advice, or just the chance to ramble about his last project (cookies for his aunt, a science project, a tech improvement to his suit) so hearing the kid talk so excited about Daredevil and his friends (whose names he almost slipped several times before coming up with nicknames for them) made you smile fondly at him.

You and Loki were smart, as was Thor (even when he couldn’t figure out most of Loki’s lies and tricks on the first try), when it came to keeping up appearances and reading underlying truths from people’s behaviors, so the three of you were sure that something happened between Stark and Peter that made the later not really trust the metal cladded man as much as apparently others were sure he did. You were also pretty solid on your belief that Natasha knew something was up (if she didn’t already know exactly what), same with older Hawkeye and Barnes but kept appearances for Peter’s sake.

You weren’t going to push anyone to tell you, but you knew this is one of those things that would eventually come into light for you.

In the meantime, the protective nature you had developed over the centuries by being Loki’s best friend urged you to find Daredevil and make sure he was who Peter claimed him to be, that this man of unknown identity to you was a good role model or at least behaved accordingly when around Spider-Man.

So after getting some pastries from a place in The Hell’s Kitchen which Peter seemed to like a lot, eating them in a park and walking some more while talking about the urban art of the neighborhood (the place seemed to really like their vigilante, or at least respect him enough to create murals to honour him) and just about little adventures the kid had with the small horns suited man, you made up your mind.

You were going to start tracking down Daredevil the days you knew Peter wasn’t going to be with him and, if you deemed it necessary…talk with him, to make sure Peter thrived and wasn’t going to get back stabbed (Loki knew a lot about it, after all he learned to do so after being the victim. You also learned about it because eventually you gained some reputation by being the younger prince’s close friend).

That evening you told the Asgardian princes about your plan and while Thor frowned a little at your lack of faith on 'young Peter’s" judgment, he didn’t say anything about stopping you. Loki grinned, and told you how the idea and plan was delightful, supporting you on it and confessing he had been wanting to do the same for a while. Although not as…peaceful as your plan was.

You might have leaned into the taunting and teasing nature the trickster god had by growing up so close to him, but you weren’t as prone to violence and physical encounters as the two brothers. Then again, that’s in comparison to the two of them. According to Barnes, you were still a very energetic being, always up for a fight and a challenge.

So.

It seemed you would be spending some nights around Daredevil’s lair for the next weeks.

You weren’t sure what but something about the idea made you excited, almost vibrating with energy and looking forward to hunting down in Hell’s Kitchen what was obviously it’s territory’s predator.

Let the chase begin.

[catch-the-wind]

Coming Home

in honor of diluc coming home on my main genshin acc, have my v short brainrot ab him coming home to the dawn winery <3

an obligatory tag @chichikoi my fellow diluc simp

tags: gn!reader, diluc, genshin fluff

The chess set in the library looked lonely without Diluc inspecting the board. He left it mid-game as he usually did, but he often sat there and stared as he thought out his next move. Typically, he played against himself; Kaeya was one of his usual opponents when they were younger and sometimes came around now for a game or two if their schedules were both open. Tension was easing between them, but with Diluc out of Mondstadt right now, the board sat partially empty and the game interrupted.

Wood crackling in the fireplace only served to remind Y/N of Diluc. A warm hand in theirs as they walked or a small flicker of flame in his palm before he touched the wood in the fireplace to set it alight. The dance of light playing over his face as he smiled a crooked smile at his lover from his crouched position in front of the grate. Red hair almost molten in the firelight, scarlet eyes playful and dancing.

Even that old record player in the corner reminded them of Diluc. A night spent dancing around the library, with Diluc spinning them, swaying gently to the rhythm, fingers tapping out the beat lightly on their waist. He was such a good dancer. light on his feet, smooth and fluid. Graceful.

The quiet opening of the front door downstairs jarred them from their thoughts. Usually it wouldn’t be surprising but it was almost two o’clock in the morning. No servants would be up and about right now. The Darknight Hero wasn’t even in town and he usually came back around dawn.

Elzer's voice filtered up from the foyer and Y/N eased. Elzer wouldn’t allow a threat into the winery; it was safe. Sighing, they went back to the bookshelves, their fingers trailing over the spines of Diluc’s seemingly endless collection of books. Perusing the titles, they smiled when they noticed a notebook missing — Diluc’s book of maps, full of Abyss Order camp locations and intel. He was always working.

Arms sliding around Y/N’s waist startled them before they smelled the familiar lingering scent of grapevines, faint birch, and leather. Relaxing into Diluc’s hold, they turned their head to look up at him, a soft smile on his face before he pressed a tender kiss to his lover’s temple.

“What are you doing up, my love?” His words were muffled with his lips pressed to their skin.

“Mmm, missing you,” Y/N murmured with a smile. Turning in his arms, Y/N tilted their head back and puckered their lips. Diluc laughed, that beautiful shine in his eyes before he obliged his partner and he pressed a kiss to their mouth. Lips quirked up as both smiled into the kiss, pulling away with gentle pecks to each other’s cheeks. “I missed you too, sweetheart.”

His hands slid from around their waist to grab at their hands. Walking backward, he started for the door, ignoring his bag of clothes he’d set down on the nearby desk. “How about we retire for the night?”

“Am I promised the kisses I've been deprived of because of your trip?”

Diluc pretended to think. “Mmm, maybe,” he teased. Y/N gasped, eyes widening before he laughed, leaning forward to plant a quick kiss to the tip of their nose.

Already at the doorway, they were ready to turn down the hall when Diluc stopped abruptly. “Hold on!” Rushing back into the library, Y/N watched Diluc move a knight on the chessboard before he returned to their side. “Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, “Didn’t want to forget the move.”

Laughing, Y/N interlaced their fingers then leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, barely scruffy since his last shave. “Come on. Let’s go to bed, Ragnvindr.” He grinned as he was dragged down the hall, eager for a night on his own mattress, even better with his lover next to him. “And maybe we can shave that stubble tomorrow. It’s not doing you any favors.”

“Hey!”

[randombubblegum]

before you close your asks lol I just wanted to say for anyone else to see that you’ve been saying all along you love old panic and you’re not going to stop listening to it now that Brendon’s assholery etc is out there and defending that stance (agreed for the record) so I think these people should probably take a seat if they think you’re just hating or something. also I mistakenly read “brendon stans” as “brendon stains” in one of your answers and was like oh true

thank youuuuuu lol to be fair its mostly only completely brainrotted people on twitter accusing me of lying for ? i dont even know what i would gain from that lol i didnt even tag the original post and i dont want ~clout~ from saying panic sucks now. i dont want panic to suck now!!! ive loved panic for years and its an important band to me. its not my fault brendon urie has burned every bridge and lost his touch, and im not happy about it. i would love for panic to still be good but its not just and anyone unwilling to acknowledge that isnt facing reality!!!!? i still listen to old panic and i always will lol so whatever. i dont rly want to talk about it further id like to get back to our regularly scheduled waterparks yaoi bonanza pls

[tiny-tardis]

omg thank you so much for tagging!! i adore this kind of interactive 🥰

last song i listened to: Living in a Fantasy by BWO (well…. actually, I've been listening to it on repeat for three days now.. it's the only thing I can listen to now.. my head hurts like hell and i need to distract myself from it.. and I've also had an obsession with this musical group for 15 years.. i love their music more than anything in the world..)

favorite color: navy blue! also all shades blue-gray, light gray colour and black & white 🤍🩶🖤

last book i finished: unfortunately it was Gentleman Jole and the Red Queen from "Vorkosigan Saga" and i don't like it at all, but one of my friends was obsessed with it and i give it a try (imho it was most boring 15 books I've ever read..) and now i'm reading again my beloved novel Bleak House by Charles Dickens..

last show i watched: …. Lexx TV series…. i wanna k!ll myself.. i hate it /j

sweet/salty/savory: salty, i don't like sweet and savory..

relationship status: single (i don't know if it counts.. one of my friends had platonic crush on me..)

most recent google search: moscow fashion week 2004 photos.. not even ask me why.. (i search it for very personal reasons..)

current obsession: …… help i got Lexx brainrot……. /j honestly i like this weird silly tv show and my obsession with it.. it so bad in every possible way.. especially when first time i watch it i was like a 6 years old..

[this vibe >>>> everything else]

looking forward to: i wanna finish my university project and spent weekend with my grandma. (also i want to sleep for all eternity..) now i think to rewatch Lexx with my friend irl, he also like this show.. and he's getting a new vinyl records soon, so if we both can find a couple of free hours we'll listen to music together.. a very simple dream but it's nice if i can just to do nothing several days.. my life mostly pretty miserable and theres nothing interesting going on.

tagging: umm.. i dont really want to tag anyone butttt @tylerpendragon @geears @elias-bouchard-apologist @kolchaksgold @disperatoamadeo and anyone who wants to join go ahead!

10 people i’d like to get to know better

Tagged by @poetichibiscus ! 👋 Thankssss it's fun getting to know people on here

last song i listened to: other than the lo fi beats i'm listening to at work, I think it was either Gucci Gucci by Kreayshawn or Can't Sit With Us by Honey C. They're part of my "hype up on the way to work" playlist, lmao

favorite color: purple all the way!

last book i finished: ohhhh man i'm not sure. i have a terrible, terrible habit of starting books and not finishing them. i THINK the last book i actually finished was a re-read of Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch, and that was a while ago. Last book I started wassssssss either the Gottfried or Thomas of Britain version of the Tristan & Isolde romance (I kinda been bopping back and forth between them like an animal)...

last show i watched: slkfhalksd i think it was Yu-Gi-OH! VRAINS. i haven't had time to sit and watch a show in a while, either 😅

sweet/salty/savory: savoryyyyyyyyyyyyyy

relationship status: single and oh lord i have no idea how to mingle h el p

most recent google search: "can you buy me tampons text meme" <- important search

current obsession: the embarrassing obsession with disney's pocahontas is still ongoing. tbh, when you've gone out of your way to buy a laserdisc player because you needed to hear the commentary track found only on the 1996 special edition and nowhere else (bc you've scoured the internet for it and found NOTHING) there's probably no going back. incidentally, i think i'm gonna get into archiving media once i've made time to hunt down some more interesting laserdiscs to justify my impulse purchase with. (and if anyone wants a copy of that commentary track btw i made an mp3 of it all you gotta do is ask. just sayin'. just so you know.)

looking forward to: getting through this paralegal program so i can get a raise and maybe also upgrade apartments bc that would be Nice

Tagging: @subway-dove @anisaanisa @iveneverbeenmorestressedinmylife @elephantlovemedleys @t3acupz @mandoratheevilchaser @devilatelier @spacedewey @intrinsicallydisordered @ithinkimaperson and anyone else who wanna 👍

[redwinterroses]

I’m doing my very best not to format this as a literary analysis paper but that’s basically what this is so forgive me if I slip back into those old habits at all. And I'm going to tag @betweenlands and @fluffy-papaya in this because guys look what your fic made me brainrot. XD

(This is a long one, y'all. We're talking 2k words. Sorry.)

That said:

Hey, let’s talk about the bead curtain in Dog at the Door.

That dang bead curtain, and why I’m currently fixating on it, and how I think it has symbolism that may or may not be intentional.

(At this point, I’m assuming it’s intentional. Everything about this fic is intentional. Including the pain. Heh. “The only difference between a running gag and a recurring theme is how seriously you take it,” says Solar. Cool. I’m taking it seriously.)

The curtain first shows up in chapter one. It’s one of the first things we see in the van, and the first thing we know about it is that Doc finds it obnoxious. Ugly. Revolting. Renbob loves it, obviously, but Renbob has odd tastes. Doc, on the other hand, literally uses his hatred of the curtain to motivate him to get out of bed in the morning.

The Red King, when he shows up, also has similar dislike of the thing, but his reaction is a little more measured, a little less extreme. More distaste, less disgust. He finds it “distasteful” and compares it to wearing a labcoat without a shirt (lol). But he doesn’t loath it like Doc does, and when Doc suggests (in chapter 13) that they take it down and use it for friendship bracelets, he’s as displeased with that idea as Renbob is. He has an ambivalent opinion, overall.

And then Ren. Ren actually reacts the least to the curtain—but ends up with the most dramatic interaction with it, which we’ll come back to in a second. He simply says (chapter 24) that normally he’d find the beads hideous, but that the light of Doc’s eye reflecting off it into the shadows makes it oddly peaceful.

There’s exactly one other use of the word “curtain” in this fic, and it’s this line right here:

“I haven’t done anything but possess him and lead his soul back to the controls.” RK throws his hands up in the air. “He’s put himself behind the curtain because he thinks I’m out to get him. My only crime is the original contract I made with him, doctor.”

In this instance, RK is talking about their “imperfect metaphor” of Ren being behind the curtain that separates the “driver’s seat” from the rest of the van that is Ren’s mind/soul. He’s saying that Ren has deliberately put himself in a position of defeat and surrender because he (Ren) doesn’t think there are any other options.

M’kay. Right about now, any sane person is going, “Red. Why are you so fixated on this bead curtain. It’s a running joke at best.”

And... I mean, sure. Kinda. But also definitely not.

This is the part where I really step out on a potentially-shaky limb with all the confidence in the world, because here’s what I'm seeing: the dividing line between life and death is often portrayed in literature as a curtain.

(And it’s interesting to note that the curtain is a barrier, a separation, but it’s only a curtain, and this one is made of beads at that. It’s a flimsy and fluid barrier, easy to pass through. Back and forth. Surrender and control, life and death.)

In fact, even in this fic it’s used that way: RK may be referring to the metaphorical bead curtain in their van of an explanation for how his and Ren’s relationship works, but in the story at that point Ren is convinced that he’s dead. Or is supposed to be dead. And by putting himself “behind the curtain,” he’s surrendering to that. Almost insisting on it, because that’s the truth of how he sees the world right then and he can’t process any other possibilities. He’s basically saying “I’m supposed to be dead, and this side of the curtain is death, so that’s where I’ll stay.”

So if the curtain in the metaphor represents the two sides of that, it’s really interesting to look at the various characters’ reactions to the literal bead curtain and see how it reflects their attitudes toward death—and specifically Ren’s death.

Renbob is... chill. He has an entirely comfortable relationship with the bead curtain, with life and death, with his own emotions—even with dealing with the emotions of the others he’s chauffeuring across the universe. While he isn’t immune to the grief of losing (or thinking he’s lost) Ren, he deals with it in a relatively healthy way—at least as much as we see. I think there was a possibly-canon ask at some point that said he was journaling and meditating so... yeah. Renbob’s got this. And 50 other bead curtains in storage. He’s the only character in the fic who passes in and out of the curtain regularly and without it being a big deal.

To put it simply: Renbob is on good terms with whatever happens in life, up to and including the end of it. (Renbob is arguably the equal and opposite of Grimdog. Two sides of the same coin in more ways than one.)

Contrast that now with Doc. Doc is... not a fan of the bead curtain. It represents a loss of control to him, (“freakin’ hippies”) and a separation from what he loves. In the past, he and Ren were on opposite sides of that conflict, and the beads still somewhat represent that tension (though in a mostly nostalgic, and not actively-antagonistic way.) But the language Doc’s narration uses to describe the beads is strong. “Obnoxious.” “Accursed.” “Horrendously evil.”

Nearly as scary as his best friend trying to kill him.

It’s played for laughs, obviously, and it is funny. But if we project the symbolism of “the curtain represents death” onto Doc’s reactions, it gets a bit less amusing. And it really fits with Doc’s attitude toward Ren’s death in the whole fic. It’s the worst thing he’s ever faced—to the extent that until RK’s seemingly-permanent presence forces him to, Doc doesn’t even try to process it. He goes right to work on the prosthetics, growls at anyone who tries to make him do anything he doesn't want to do, accepts RK as “New Ren,” and pretends that he’s going on with life.

He refuses to look at how weird the whole situation is, because if he does that he has to deal with Ren being gone forever. He ignores the thing that’s right under his nose and pretends it’s not there until a moment of quiet or actually having to interact with it brings it back to his attention, and then his reaction is vitriolic.

Doc hates that curtain, and he hates the concept of death, the concept of losing control. Even in his nightmares, he holds tight to what little control he can take, even if it’s just taking the initiative to sit in the snow and let it kill him faster. Hold onto that thought, because I’ve got more to it, but we have to talk about RK and Ren first.

RK holds both distaste and acceptance of the curtain. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t want it destroyed either. The distaste, notably, is when he’s with Doc, and the acceptance comes from being around Renbob. The Red King, as a blood god, is not exactly unfamiliar with death. It’s literally in his job description, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it. A necessary evil, if you will.

It doesn’t hurt either that, at least up until Ren, RK has always been the one on the other side of the curtain, completely in control of the situation. He goes back and forth on his attitudes, but in the past he has been the one in control and the bringer of death. His reaction is negative, but not emphatic—the way someone who has plenty of indoor plans might react to a rainstorm.

Ren... now, Ren. Ren has, like I said, the least recorded reaction to the actual, physical bead curtain. But. But. While he normally would call it hideous, “there’s something oddly peaceful about watching light fractals spin off the walls, cutting off into the shadows.” The shadows, it’s worth noticing, are specifically implied to be RK/hiding RK in this moment. Doc’s light and RK’s shadows interacting with the curtain bring peace to Ren. He passes through it easily to find Renbob.

Ren has already accepted his death—he accepted it long before the fic even started—to an extent that he’s actively insisting on it for a large portion of the story. It’s only when he realizes that Doc is in potential danger that he starts fighting RK for control of the situation again. (“Stay away from Doc, you bastard. He wasn’t part of our bargain. Leave him alone.”)

He dislikes the bead curtain, but he doesn’t hate it, and when seen in the (literal) light of Doc’s protective, watching eye—even if he is asleep at the moment, bless—even the shadows of RK’s presence are suddenly beautiful and peaceful to him in a way that, without the “reflecting fractals” of the beads, wouldn’t be possible. Again: this is the chapter where Renbob’s influence is felt, and his peace with life and death directly affects Ren and his reactions. (“It’ll all sort itself out, eventually, and I’ll be here for you while it does.”)

And then...

And then Ren rips down the curtain altogether.

The separation is gone. For better or for worse, that divide between control and surrender, between RK and Ren, between life and death... it’s gone. It’s scattered across the floor of the van, glittering in Ren’s hair, and in the carpet. Ren has broken through that barrier, and now we just have to wait to see what the consequences of that are for him.

But... we can already see at least one consequence for Doc. Because now there is no more illusion of control and surrender for him to maintain. That division is no longer there, and we see Doc’s first real surrender in the whole story. Even in his nightmares, he was still in control: he knew it was a nightmare, and he fought against it until he “gave up”—in a way that still put him in control. He chooses to sit in the snow so it’ll kill dream-him faster.

He acts like he doesn’t care, but it’s still not that: he takes control in the only way he knows, aware that everything is only a dream and no matter what how it treats him, he’ll still wake up in the end. He looks at the nightmare and says basically “Do your worst, I dare you, but you won’t get what you want from me.”

But now—now he surrenders to Ren. He gives up. His core truth (“I’ll do anything to protect those I love,” which I talked about in this post) looks like it’s not going to be enough to save them. He can’t save Ren—from RK or from Ren himself—and that means he’s lost in the worst way possible. In this moment, it looks like Ren doesn’t even trust that Doc’s core truth—that he will do anything to save his friends—is true.

This is Doc’s lowest point: that Ren seems to think Doc’s loyalty and love have failed. And to Doc... that’s a fate worse than death.

So he gives up. He tells Ren to kill him, and he fully expects him to do so. Doc doesn’t want to die, but at this point he has completely let go of any control of his own fate. Even when facing down Ren with the Skizz blade, he held tightly to his control of the situation. He literally takes the sword in his own hand and removes it as a threat. But now—now the curtain is gone. The illusion of control is gone.

Ren is the one in control of the situation—for possibly the first time in the fic—and he chooses to remember that Doc is his friend, that he’s missed him. But Doc leaves it all to him. Even when Ren backs off, Doc stays in that surrendered state (“I can’t do anything right, unlike [Martyn.]”). He realizes that he's been in the passenger seat the whole time, and he’s now where Ren was before: no longer even trying to take back the driver’s seat.

The curtain is gone. Now we just have to wait and see who ends up on which side of it at the end.