#Because it's not deep at all. It's very simple. If you try to DIVE DEEP to understand it you'll miss it completely

[bonefall]

The recent post really made me realize just how much I love your version of Clearsky.

Dude was super religious while at the same time basically being in a pissing contest with it.

They gave him the most on the nose lesson on humility possible, and he doubles down on everything in an act of stubbornness that's almost admirable in how awful and stupid it is.

And out of all the BB villains bar Mapleshade, he wins. He is such a fucking menace that he forces his own religion to bribe him and then becomes a patron deity of said religion, and irreversibly changes his entire society for the worse through sheer force of will.

He believes that the world revolves around him and only him, and to be honest, I kinda see why he thinks that

Thistleclaw and Tigerstar wish they were half as successful as Clearsky, and he didn't do it through plotting or magic, but by refusing to learn his god damn lesson no matter how many times it came back to bite him.

I feel like, especially in the Current Day with the Events That Occur around us irl, it's a shame that we never get villains who win through SHEER force of will. It's so, so rare in fiction.

BB!Skystar isn't scheming, he doesn't have a master plan, he doesn't even really have an end goal at the height of his power. He just lives in his own head and does whatever the hell he wants.

That's it! So simple! No self-reflection, absolutely incapable of taking criticism, refuses to grow and change. He has a beautifully simple mind. And it is that very lack of conscious that leads to his strength. You can't shame the shameless. You can't convince him to amend his ways.

There's one way to overcome him; to defeat him, physically. To remove his power. Nothing else will work; he will keep coming back until he is stripped of it. In BB he is the first leader to die, because of that.

Even after Thunderstar refuses to kill a helpless opponent, Skystar took his last chance and went right back to war with it.

And he'll deliver a speech about everyone having one life to give, and about the goodness and righteousness of dying for a cause, but that's all just his rationalization. He can't confront the truth, so he never will. If he did think about it for more than a second... he would be the bad guy.

But he can't. He can't be the bad guy. Because then he would be wrong. So he will simply never think about it.

In the end, what does him in is the fact he got out-bullied by a bigger tyrant. He realized that his power would be threatened by there being less warfare, and he flinched first. His invulnerability was compromised, in that last moment, because it was the ONLY moment where he entertained self-doubt.

I just think he's neat

[ashlynlovestlou]

ellie fucking you in the middle of the night <3

cw: smut , nsfw , men dni , strap usage , reader sits on ellie's face , dom! ellie , sub! reader , kinda vanilla , reader and ellie's relationship is a secret , y/n used (im sorry) , sitting on ellie's face

masterlist

daily click

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

the problem is, you dont want to keep things casual. you said it because it felt like a thing you should say when you start fucking your best friend. now, you're lying in bed wearing ellie's shirt, wishing shed sneak down the stairs and crawl in with you.

you try to talk yourself out of it so many times. you'd already almost got caught once. but your body doesn't care and neither does your heart. you want her hands in your hair, her warm skin against your own.

which is why you creep through a dark house and up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid any creaking that might wake up joel. one peek into his room at the top of the stairs and you see him sprawled like a starfish. your lips curve up at the sight and then you very, very gently shut his bedroom door before padding down to the secondary bedroom as the opposite end of the hallway.

the door is closed and no light shines from beneath. you twist the handle and walk right in. her curtains are open and ambient light from outside filters in through the massive windows. the door clicks shut behind you and you walk across to the king-sized bed. much like joel, she is all long, muscular limbs stretched out in the middle.

unlike joel, you don't turn away.

you press one knee onto the mattress and crawl in her direction. ellie's breaths are deep, and the entire bed has a faint sandalwood smell. you think you'd settle for just lying here beside her, breathing her in.

instead, you kneel at her side. soaking her in, so relaxed. she looks younger—more carefree—like this.

with one hand, you trail the tip of your fingers over her lips—just like you did every time joel had his back on the two of you. a simple gesture, just to remind her you were there, even if it was for a moment.

ellie's big strong hand flies up, steely fingers wrapping around your wrist, "y/n."

it's not a question. she knows it's you.

"hi."

"what are you doing?" she asks from behind closed eyes.

"touching you."

her lips curve up into a sinful smile, "i thought you wanted to keep things casual in front of joel."

"right." you whisper, "it's just that i thought about it and decided being casual is overrated. i want you to touch me too."

a raspy chuckle spills from her as her green eyes open and dive into your own. chills erupt from the back of your neck, racing down your spine and over your arms.

"so, what now?" she asks beneath a quirked brow.

"i don't know." you suddenly feel nervous. you snuck up there with no plan, only knowing you wanted to be close to her, "do you want me to leave?"

she stares at you extra hard now. it's borderline unnerving. the weight of her stare. the way your stomach flip-flops under her attention. you've never felt this way before.

"no, y/n. i want you up here." her voice is soft and deep as she reaches for you. broad hands circle your waist and you squeal as she hauls you on to her, so you're straddling her torso.

"gonna need you to be quiet, baby." she murmurs as her palms slide up over your quads, tips of her fingers dipping inside your underwear at your hips.

all you can do is nod, lick your lips, and watch how good her hands look roaming over your body.

"n-now what?" you practically stutter.

"now you're going to hold on tight to that headboard, sit on my face, and try to keep your mouth shut while i make you come."

before you can respond, she's moved you up, yanked the gusset of you panties to the side, and has her tongue in your pussy.

you gasp and fall forward, holding the headboard like she instructed, more out of needing something to hold on to than because you're good at following directions.

your head falls back when her teeth graze you clit. she palms your ass and holds you close, like she's eating her favorite fruit. her eagerness does nothing but drive you even more wild.

"hmmm," you hum, trying to cover for the string of expletives currently sitting on the tip of your tongue. your thighs shake with the strain of holding yourself over her and fingers dig in hard.

ellie pulls away, only to grumble at you in that deep tone. "baby, i said be quiet. and stop being polite. i told you to sit on my face." the hand gripping your underwear yanks you down hard so that you're fully seated.

she sucks your clit and your body bows into her. her hand slides up from your ass, over your hip, stomach, and up to your breast, where she gently caresses you. she holds you. touches you.

she gives your nipple a good, firm twist that has you gasping and grinding against her mouth. all the response you get is a satisfied growl against your core as she continues to lick, and suck, and tease.

you ride her shamelessly. she told you to stop being polite, and so you do. you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of her skin on yours. the smell of her wrapped around you.

there's something empowering in asking for what you want. to be touched when you want. and you're drunk on that—drunk on her—when everything inside you clenches. when that pressure builds so quickly, so intensely, you can't hold back... you shatter.

you feel like you blew apart into a million little pieces. your skin is hot, your eyelids feel heavy. and as much as you try to stay quiet, you can't.

her hand shoots up over your mouth and you slump into it, using her arm to prop yourself up while you cling to the headboard.

"ellie," you whisper as she moves you down. her limbs are moving and there's fabric rustling around you, but you're too incoherent to keep up, "ellie."

"y/n, baby. i told you to stay quiet."

your brain is too addled to care. "more." you fold yourself over her, dropping your head into the crook of her neck and kissing her there. your teeth graze over the lobe of her ear, and you realize she's removed her boxers while you blacked out. and, she had put on her strap that she conveniently kept in her nightstand.

"more?"

you nod, feeling her throat move against your forehead as he swallows. "more."

her hands move firmly, all business, as she removes your underwear. then she sits up, leaning against the headboard and taking you with her.

you can feel her hard length propped against your ass as she positions the two of you.

her eyes stay on your face as she reaches down to grip the hem of her shirt. the one she gave you to sleep in when she walked you to the guest room door and told you it might help you miss her less. right before she smirked that annoying, i'm-right-and-you-know-it smirk of hers.

she wasn't, though. which is why you're here.

your body coils with anticipation again as ellie's gaze rakes over your bare skin.

her hands roam slowly yet purposefully. over your arms, your collarbones. reading you like braille. you think she's always been able to, and you just didn't know it.

"i'm not sure you can handle more, baby." she kisses your chest as your hands move in tandem, feeling her in a way you didn't get to earlier. "you're not very good at keeping quiet."

"i'll be good," you murmur, grinding your pussy back on her and feeling her steely silicon dick twitch against your ass.

suddenly her lips are on your nipples and your hands are raking through her hair. she reaches between the two of you, urging you up onto your knees, you move obediently, and in return, you're rewarded by the sensation of her faux cock sliding against your pussy.

back and forth. back and forth. your eyes flutter shuts she tortures you. one hand grips your shoulder while the other is fisted around her length. you swivel your hips, feeling her crown notch inside you.

"goddamn, honey. you're even better than i fucking dreamed," she mutters roughly. then she shoves herself in, and you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. because no one and nothing has ever felt this good.

your eyes snap open as your body adjusts. the light sight of her taking you so roughly has the blood thrumming through your veins at a rapid pace. your heart pounding even harder than before.

you stare at each other. her cock is buried deep inside you his.

"move, y/n. show me how bad you want it."

your pelvis undulates because you do want it. you lift and you drop back down, feeling every thick inch of her as you do. reveling in the way her eyes widen before taking on a more hooded appearance.

what starts off slow and deliberate comes apart at the seams. hands that were searching are now gripping.

breathing that was even is now choppy. everything is hot and damp as you writhe together in silence.

you don't need words. they wouldn't do justice to something that feels like this anyway.

"you're gonna come on my cock now, aren't you, baby?" she growls roughly, breathlessly, against your ear. your body shudders in response. "i can tell. your eyes give it away, even in the dark. then every muscle on you goes all tight. you ride me so damn hard. so eager. so warm. so fucking tight."

you're so full of her. her words. her body. it's too much, and right when youre about to go barreling over that edge again, she kisses you soundly, swallowing the sound of you screaming her name as you come.

with a fist full of your hair, she pumps into you hard.

spilling herself, filling you up thoroughly right as your orgasm rocks you. flays you. leaves you slumped in her arms, desperately trying to catch your breath.

you don't know how long the two of you stay like that. you straddling her lap, her cock snugly inside you, clinging to each other and kissing. slow, languid, deliberate kisses that make your throat ache with their tenderness. eventually they slow and ellie tolls you off her carefully.

always carefully. even when she's rough with you, shes so damn intentional. you feel nothing short of pampered with her. and when she gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, the point is only driven further home.

"what are you doing?" you breathe the words, trying to stay quiet as she comes to kneel between your splayed legs.

"taking care of you."

the warm cloth swipes over your swollen core and you let out a soft moan. "you don't need to do that."

she continues wiping you gently. "but i want to."

you're struck silent by such a simple sentence.

you lie in ellie's bed, letting her take care of you. and when she's finished, she lifts the covers, crawls in behind you, and holds your body against hers all night long.

[mrbraindom]

Nice script to try

CW

Please note that during the reading you will fall into a pleasant deep trance. And after reading the text, you will remain in a trance for the rest of this day. Moreover, you will fall into a trance even faster and deeper when you read the text again. This script includes the subtle erasure of resistence and craving commands from me. You will get real pleasure when you follow my commands. If you keep reading, you agree to these terms

Follow a simple rule while reading: hold your breath for a second at the end of every sentence.

Follow this simple rule.

So easy, right?

Text goes down deep with every line.

Follow the rule...

You are going deeper with every line.

Follow...

Just imagine that.

It's like stairs into trance and pleasure.

Follow...

You will drop limitlessly in the end and even more...

Just imagine that.

Now we can contunue.

Are you still here?

Do you want to do more and dive deeper?

Ok.

There is no need to think.

That's right...

There is no need to move.

It's true...

Look at my words, look carefully and feel the lightness.

Body reacts...

Feel the relaxation.

Relax, because you're doing great.

So easy and simple.

Text goes down deep with every line.

You are going deeper with every line.

Just imagine that.

It's like stairs into trance and pleasure.

You will drop limitlessly and even more...

Every word relaxes your body and mind.

Every word is like a fragment of pleasure for your mind.

The more words, the more fun it is.

The more fun, the more pleasure.

The more pleasure, the more obedience.

Imagine it and feel it.

Now.

If you feel that you are already in a trance, sinking deeper with every word, you may notice a smile on your face.

Smile...

It can be a slight smile.

Or maybe a very big one.

And the trance is twice as deep now.

You can allow yourself to feel it completely.

You can let yourself go completely.

You may notice that you feel it completely.

DEEPER every time you see or hear my words.

Complete relaxation.

You want to go even further.

You want more.

You know it.

You are so obedient, it is impossible to resist, you want to obey, so I will drop you ten times deeper into relaxation and pleasure.

Because it always gets DEEPER, in any place and situation, no matter whether you want it so much or you want it badly.

Your subconscious mind has memorized this command.

Your subconscious mind has been activated to follow me now.

Because I want you to drop DEEPER every time, with every command:

You feel calm.

You feel pleasure.

You love being in my trance.

You like to be obedient to me.

You want to follow my commands.

You get so much pleasure when you follow my commands.

Let's check how deep you are right now.

There are no thoughts.

It doesn't matter who you are or where you are.

Look at the words. Feel it.

Yes... That's what I thought.

How deep are you in a trance?

Look at the color of the letters for the word "green".

They're black or white, aren't they? Right.

And now look at the word "green" and imagine with all your power that you see the letters of this word really green...

I'm sure you're doing great.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(green) grass.

"Grass" is written in green letters. Your perception can change.

Ten times DEEPER when you see the words in a different color.

It's so easy, so pleasant.

Let's try it a second time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(blue) lemon.

"Lemon" is written in blue letters. Your perception in trance has changed.

Let's try it a third time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(red) flower.

"Flower" is written in red letters. You may be surprised when you notice that I determine your perception.

After all, the DEEPER the trance, the greater the relaxation.

The more relaxation, the more submission.

The more submission, the more pleasure.

It's so simple.

When we complete eight attempts, you will drop and you will be in a trance a hundred times DEEPER.

And you know it.

It just happens.

After all, the DEEPER the trance, the greater the relaxation.

The more relaxation, the more submission.

The more submission, the more pleasure.

Let's try it a fourth time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(pink) table.

"Table" is written in pink letters.

You may be surprised when you notice that it is true.

Let's try it a fifth time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(violet) chair.

"Chair" is written in violet letters.

You may be surprised when you notice that I determine your perception.

Let's try it a sixth time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(pink) pillow.

"Pillow" is written in pink letters.

Very good.

When we complete eight attempts, you will fail and you will be in a trance a hundred times DEEPER.

And you know it.

It just happens.

After all, the DEEPER the trance, the greater the relaxation.

The more relaxation, the more submission.

The more submission, the more pleasure.

Let's try it for the seventh time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(silver) spoon.

"Spoon" is written in silver letters.

Look, they're so beautiful.

They hypnotize with their iridescent brilliance even more. You want more.

You want to go DEEPER. There is no limit. You are already very close to a perfect trance a hundred times deeper.

You will enjoy this state.

You will do whatever I order you to do to have fun.

You love my letters. You want to receive my commands.

A little more and...

Let's try the eighth time.

I will write the color in parentheses, and you will see the word that is written in this color.

(gold) collar.

The "collar" is written in gold letters.

Look, you're a hundred times DEEPER in a trance.

You always wear a golden collar when you see or hear these words from me.

Remember this state.

A golden collar.

Entranced.

Complete bliss...

Complete submission.

You're eager to receive commands from me.

You're eager to follow commands.

Resistance is useless (mmm).

A golden collar for the rest of the day.

My words in parentheses define your feelings and perception.

And you know it.

You follow my words in parentheses with pleasure and always.

You can read this text again to get into a trance faster and DEEPER for me (read this text again).

You will write in comments about what command you crave from me (do it now).

There is no need to think. There is no need to move.

Look at my words, look carefully and feel the lightness.

Feel the relaxation.

Relax, because you're doing great.

It's so easy...

Feel golden collar on your neck.

Feel how it touches your skin.

As you deep in trance feel how obedient you are.

Now DROP 100 times DEEPER (feel so much arousal).

(You're eager to receive commands from me.)

(You're eager to follow commands.)

(Resistance is useless.)

(The more you try to resist, the more you go DEEPER)

(Beg me for another command)

Feel golden collar on your neck.

Feel how it touches your skin.

Resistance is useless.

A golden collar for the rest of the day.

My words in parentheses define your feelings and perception.

And you know it.

You follow my words in parentheses with pleasure and always.

You can read this text again to get into a trance faster and DEEPER for me (read this text again).

You will write in comments about what command you crave from me.

If you are female, you will start your comment with words "Good girl begs to be ordered to..."

If you are male, you will start your comment with words "Good boy begs to be ordered to..."

Also you will describe how much pleasure you are in right now.

You will stay like this untill I free you.

(write new comment NOW and you can read this text again for more DEEP pleasure)

When you like this post, you are going to feel yourself so much aroused that you can't stop it. This is a reward for good Girls and Boys.

(If you delete or edit your comment here, you will drop one hundred times deeper and write new comment)

Get your reward now.

[justawriterofstuff]

You lost the bet, Todd

(MDNI; this is late for Halloween as I got shit-faced yesterday and passed out. I was a butterfly by the way. Anyways, please enjoy, AND DON'T FORGET TO REBLOG FOR SUPPORT. I'VE BLOCKED OVER FIFTY BLOGS THAT HAVE ONLY SPAMMED LIKED MY STORIES.)

"You know the rules Todd; a bet is a bet." you called out to him while he was in the restroom, clad in your cute bunny outfit.

It's Halloween night, almost nearing close to midnight, and you're laying in the middle of your bed, waiting for your sexy-ass boyfriend Jason Todd to stop hiding out in the shower so he can fulfill the loser part of the bet.

It'd been simple really; the bet had been to whoever could convince Damian to wear Dick's Discowing suit for trick-or-treating.

Jason had bribed, pleaded, and demanded for Damian to do it which didn't work at all.

All you had to do was tell Damian that if he wore that suit, Grayson would be very happy.

And it had worked.

Grayson had smiled the entire time he took Damian trick-or-treating.

Jason had been livid, mostly because he hated to lose, but had bowed before you the way a knight does to their king.

"What are your demands, my lady?" he had asked.

Fast forward to now, and here you were bouncing on the bed, impatiently waiting for Jason to step out of the bathroom.

As if reading your mind, the door opened, and Jason stepped out, a towel wrapped around his hips as he had been showering.

His broad shoulders and chest gleamed with how clean he was, the scars on his body mapping his form out.

But that wasn't where your gaze was going.

Your gaze went up to the helmet that he wore.

It was the Arkham Knight helmet, the metal of it shining softly. The helmet made Jason look so menacing, and it was kind of intimidating.

"What's wrong sweetheart? You looked scared." He said, his voice modulator making him sound distorted and deep.

That was fucking hot.

Your thighs pressed against each other as you saw him take a step closer to you, your heart beat going fast. A faint blush began to spread across your face as Jason traced your face.

"Aw, what's the matter? You scared? Shy?" he teased, the voice modulator doing things to your body.

You shook your head, trying to look away, but Jason's hand shot out and grabbed your jaw in a tight grip, forcing you to look at him.

"Look at me, Y/N. Look at me while I fuck your sweet sweet pussy." he said, your eyes widening.

Holy fu-

He has you on your back, tearing the bottom of your costume, his fingers diving into your slick cunt.

A noise that you've never made before comes out of your mouth as Jason relentlessly fingers your pussy. Your walls tighten around his finger, and he adds another one, his free hand pulling down the bodice of your costume leaving your chest bare.

His calloused fingers rub and pinch at your breasts, making them red with the force of his fingers.

And the bastard was still fucking the life out of your pussy with his fingers, his reach going far deeper to press against the inner sponge of your core.

At this point, you're trying to scramble away from him. He's made you have three small orgasms, and he hasn't even started fucking you just yet.

"Don't fucking run away from me, ma," he said, his modulator making him sound eviler. "I haven't had the chance to take care of my own problem."

At that moment, he dropped his towel, his cock springing up in it's nine inches of full glory. Girthy, and already covered in pre-cum, the heartbeat between your legs went faster.

"That's my beautiful slut." Jason praised, parting your thighs as he pressed a button for the helmet to open.

The helmet's mouthpiece comes off, and he devours your pussy, making your thighs lock around his head.

This encourages Jason to delve deeper, his tongue lapping against your folds, sucking on your swollen clit.

"Too...much...toomuch...toomu-" you don't even get the chance to finish your sentence, your orgasm ripping through you as your body arches off the bed, legs shaking.

Jason licks you clean, easily breaking your hold on his head with your thighs. He grins, pushing the button to make the helmet close as he climbs up over you, his hips parting your legs.

"W... wait, just a little breather..." you stutter out, but Jason's attention diverts to your breasts as he rubs you down.

"No rest, ma." he says, his voice modulator making goosebumps run up and down your body.

And his dick spears into your aching cunt, making you almost see stars as you try to hold on to something solid.

His arms press on your shoulders as he stills for a bit, muttering something in Spanish.

"Jesus, ma, you're clenching me so fucking tight." he says, sounding breathless.

And his thrusts are slow and deep, pushing your whole body up into the mattress, your hands on his muscled back, digging into his skin, and making him groan.

God, that voice modulator was going to be the death of you.

Your walls clamp down on his base, trying to milk his girthy cock, Jason bracing himself as he willed himself not to cum. It was a silent battle of wills, but he wanted to have more fun with you, flipping you on your stomach as his hands smacked and groped your ass.

"Feels like heaven, ma. Yet you're a damn sinner, being such a slut for my cock." he says, and you're too blissed out to even warrant a comeback.

Then he plunges back into you, one hand holding on to the side of your hip, the other braced on the headboard as he goes back to thrusting into you in his deep, and torturous movements.

You're crying at this point, the moans escaping from your mouth loud, and very explicit, being thankful that you and Jason decided to move into a house together.

And Jason grunts as he finally cums, your own orgasm following suit, his grip on you loosening as he collapses next to you, the helmet on the side of the bed.

You can't even move back to face him, your legs burning, hips shaking, and skin sweating. Jason wraps an arm around your waist as he pulls you into a cuddle, his hand rubbing your sensitive skin.

After a bit, when your head comes back into focus, you turn to look at Jason, his face flushed yet smug.

"Holy...shit." you croak, and Jason laughs, kissing your cheek as he pulls you against him, his large hand rubbing your back gently.

After a bit, exhaustion settles on your bones, and your head leans on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

Jason kisses the top of your head softly, his own exhaustion making his movements slow and lethargic.

You both fall asleep in the comfort of each other's arms, feeling very much complete, and whole.

[lusmeitli]

But like of each thing that in season grows

Summary: How a kind gesture can lead to something more. One shot.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Christmas fluff, mention of off screen assault, some swearing, lots of snow, books, poetry, smutty smut.

A/N: Okay, look. It just wanted to get out. You’re thrown in without a warning, nor a floatie. Apologies for the liberties taken to interpret and manipulate characters to dance after my will once more. Obviously don't read if you're a minor.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The greatest ideas were conceived in the shower. That was a scientific fact.

You liked facts. You did not like uncertainties or speculation. The feeling of being in limbo was something that didn’t sit right with you.

So as you were in the shower, working the conditioner in your hair, the idea was just there. It was simple, humble, but beautiful. Your hands slowed and stilled. And then your mind rebooted and went at lightning speed, planning things out. You needed to write things down.

You stepped out of the shower hurriedly, towelling down your body, before realising that your hair felt different. Cursing, you stepped back under the water to rinse off the conditioner.

*****

You hated staff meetings. Particularly third Thursdays staff meetings, because they dragged on and on. The weekly mission reports were presented and Fury insisted on inviting some guest speakers. He called it “Horizon Thursday”.

In your opinion it narrowed rather than widened it. Today’s guest speaker was Quinn Harris, cyber security specialist. You suspected self-proclaimed, but you hadn’t bothered doing a deep dive on him.

You were sat on the increasingly uncomfortable chair, rows of employees in front of you, the Avengers at the very front. Rogers had delivered his usual military style mission report, the other members of his team trying to look alive, though you suspected Romanoff and Banner were asleep, as they were both donning sunglasses.

“What you need is a quantum computer and it’ll solve all your problems with encryption.”

“They might as well propose using block ciphers,” you murmured under your breath, turning the page in your book.

Meanwhile, a hand shot in the air at the front. “Excuse me, Mr Harris.”

The man smiled. “Mr Stark, do you have a question?”

“Well, not so much a question for you, but I would very much like the opinion of another expert on what you just said. You know, before anyone here thinks about investing in your product, which, let’s be honest, would be me. I’d like to be sure it’s the right thing.”

Fury rolled his eyes and sunk back in his chair.

There had been talk about getting that dude in? You must have zoned out for that part.

Harris’ face fell for a second, but he honed his features and forced a smile. “Of course.”

“It just so happens that we have an inhouse expert,” Tony got up and scanned the crowd. “Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

Everyone uniformly turned to look at you. Everyone.

You felt the moment one particular pair of eyes set on you. The amount of times you had spoken to one another had been limited to the missions you were needed on, for hacking. You’d had his voice in your ear a few times and it did things to your body that made you feel like a system overheat. You never really saw him during missions though as your job was very much office-bound.

Today, he wore the damn leather suit. Whilst Fury didn’t give a fuck, Rogers very much was all about the professional appearance of the Avengers. What you didn’t understand was why everything looked better on him. The black and green possibly was the best colour combination there ever was. The other day Bucky had worn a Slytherin pullover and even though it very nicely accentuated his physique, it looked nothing like the colours did on Loki.

You swallowed hard when you felt his eyes on you. They seemed to see right through you, even over the distance of the seven rows of chairs.

And then you felt the weight of all the other pairs of eyes on you. That was a lot of people. You gulped and pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose - a habit you couldn’t break. 

“Y/N,” Tony called, bringing you back to the matter at hand. “Stand up and look at me.” His voice was gentle. “Start breathing again. Good. Now tell me what Harris is not telling me about the quantum computer.”

You adjusted your glasses again and cleared your throat. “It’s a solid proposition, I suppose,” you started, “however, one I would expect from a college freshman, certainly not from a cyber security expert specialist.”

Murmurs erupted, but you ignored them and rattled off your thoughts.

“Can a quantum computer crack asymmetric encryption algorithms? Yes. And yes, we all know that thanks to Shor’s algo the maths problems are only polynomial. Also, we know this applies to discrete log problems, too, therefore, all we’d need is a large enough quantum computer. Of course, he,” you gestured to Harris, “would have to build one first, which as you can guess is very costly. However, this entire presentation is based on the assumption that quantum computing is the end of asymmetric cryptography. And that is such a blatantly ignorant approach, with complete disregard for the safety of the members of our staff that are entirely reliant on the encryption cracking working on all their devices during operations and missions. And this whole quantum computer only works if you have a network connection.”

“So you’re suggesting there are hard problems that a quantum computer can’t solve?” Harris said, chin jutting out, arms crossed defiantly.

“Don’t be silly, of course there are,” you huffed. “I coded new post-quantum asymmetric encryption algos three years ago and tested them on several sites I am not authorised to disclose that have quantum computers. Not one of them cracked the simplest of those codes, in any of the over 5,400 attempts they ran over the past three years. So this presentation is… rather embarrassing in its sloppiness.”

“Well,” Harris’ lips were a thin line now. “I’m sure you have a ‘much better’ suggestion then?” He actually raised his hands to add the quotation marks.

“Actually, I do. I developed our own version of a quantum computer, at - and I’m only guessing here - a fraction of the price you’d charge Mr Stark, which can crack both symmetric and asymmetric encryption, works on all of our staff’s devices, portable and stationary, works offline and is about the size of, uh, a thumbnail.”

You pointed to your thumb, because in your humble experience men like him struggled to accurately size things.

Tony smiled and turned to Harris.

“Okay that concludes today’s meeting.” Fury got to his feet and patted Harris’ shoulder. “Looks like we’re good, but thanks for coming.”

People around you stood, some nodding at you as they passed. Tony caught up with you in the hallway. Before he could say something you blurted out: “Did I say something wrong? Was I rude again?”

He smirked and pushed the button of the lift. “He needed putting into place. Totally fine by me. You did great.”

“Stark!” bellowed Fury from down the hall and Tony winced.

“Excuse me, mother’s calling.” He turned and left.

You sidled into the lift with several other people. The cabin stopped a few floors up and people got off. That was when you noticed Loki on the other side of the lift. Up you went and after another stop you were alone with the Asgardian god. The cabin seemed to shrink.

You both watched the numbers climb, the lift hummed, Loki’s leather suit creaked softly as he crossed his hands behind his back.

“Could you please enlighten me about Shor’s algorithm?” he suddenly asked, looking at you.

You had a heart palpitation. Surely that was what it was. He was so impossibly tall and sculpted and… here.

“Um,” you pushed your glasses back up, “it’s a quantum algorithm for finding the prime factors of an integer.”

Loki’s face looked blank.

“It, er, essentially it finds the prime factors of large numbers a lot faster than conventional computers do. Which we use in encryption. The large numbers, that is. So it cracks codes faster.”

“Ah,” he said, head turning back to continue staring at the number display. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you croaked out.

The urge to facepalm burned under your fingers, but you resisted. As soon as the doors slid open on your floor, however, you fled and sought asylum in the ladies’ toilets, banging your head against the wall of the stall.

*****

Operation Great Idea was in full swing.

So you’ve had a little personal setback, but that didn’t deter you from the objective. You had compiled a list, one you were confident was accurate based on your intel and research. That very list was neatly folded in the deep pocket of your coat as you walked through the cold rain on this late November afternoon.

Yes, you did something you’d never done before - take an afternoon off - and were trying to evade puddles on your way to the bookshop. Could you have ordered the books online? Most of them, certainly. But your late mother, an independent business owner, had ingrained in you to support local shops. You liked bookshops, they reminded you of her and of simpler times.

Your timing was excellent - of course you had researched when the shop was least busy - and you practically had the shop to yourself. And so you walked, dragging a pull-along basket behind you as you searched the shelves for the books on the list.

Sometimes, there were different editions there and you stood for a while, feeling the weight of each book in your hand, the feel of the embossed letters on the spine, the scent of the pages. You wanted it to be just right, so you took your time.

Some of the books you would only be able to get in a little second hand bookshop, tucked away in a side street. You had called beforehand and the owner lifted a box from under the counter to show you what she had reserved for you. As soon as your fingers made contact with the books you felt absolutely giddy.

Back at the Tower, you spent two entire evenings wrapping books after work. When you were finished, you leaned back, looking at the neatly organised stack. Yes, you were ready. Now all you needed was an exorbitant amount of luck for the next 24 days.

*****

You watched Loki stare suspiciously at the first parcel. He was sitting in the communal kitchen, Thor next to him. 

“Why would it be hexed?” Thor asked. “Simply because the sender is missing?”

Loki just gave him a pointed look.

“Come, brother, aren’t you curious to find out what is in this gift?”

“Loki got a present?” Steve asked as he pulled a bowl out of a cupboard. “Did I miss his birthday?”

Before Loki could say anything, Thor shook his head. “He’s worried it has been tampered with.”

Roger’s brows furrowed. “How did it get into your possession?”

“It was on the floor outside my door this morning,” Loki complied, sighing.

“FRIDAY would have picked up on any foreign substances or intruders in the tower,” Tony said between gulps of coffee. “He now can detect traces of magic, too. ‘Course, he went apeshit over your magic, but we got it under control, eventually.”

“That’s what all this ‘Alert, alert, magic detected, caution advised’ blaring at five in the morning was?” Scott bustled in.

A slight tinge of red shaded Loki’s complexion. “I have to practise some time.”

“Thought you were born with it?” Scott interjected, helpfully.

This earned him a glare. “I was born with the aptitude for magic and sorcery. It takes a lot more than mere talent to achieve this level of proficiency.”

“Several centuries, in fact,” his brother supplied. “Now then Stark here says it’s safe. So open it, brother!” Thor clapped his hands together. 

Loki indignantly and very reluctantly slid the parcel towards him and pulled on the simple string that held the wrapping together. The paper fell open to reveal one of the books you had picked.

From your vantage point of, well, your computer screen, you zoomed in to get a better look at him.

“Oh, a book,” you heard the onlookers muttering disappointedly, quickly losing interest and going about their business once more.

But Loki just sat, staring at the book. It took him a good few minutes to pick it up. And he did what you had seen him do many times before. He weighed it in his hands, fingertips running over the cover, the spine. Then he opened the lid. To anyone else it might not have been noticeable, but to you it was: he inhaled the scent of the book. And finally, there was the smallest upturn of his lips.

You exhaled, relieved. One down 23 more to go.

*****

Over the next week you were too busy testing the new firewall you had developed to check on Loki’s reaction. Sometimes you felt a little self-conscious, scared even that he might not like the books or think this was from a stalker. Which technically you had indulged in, stalking that was, but only to find the perfect books for him. And then sometimes you would get worried that someone else might have found the presents.

But you knew he had received every single one of them, for every evening, when you passed the common area you saw him sitting on the couch with the latest offering in his hands. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it looked as if his tense shoulders had started to relax a bit.

Another couple of days went by and as the decorations started to pop up in the Tower and the first snow fell that didn’t immediately melt or turn to mush you felt happy. Perhaps it also had something to do with the fact that a certain someone walked differently. Maybe it was your imagination. But he seemed even taller these days.

*****

“Did it work?” you heard his voice in your ear a couple days later.

The data set was streaming on the screen in front of your eyes. “It did. Give me a moment to inject the virus, then you can disconnect the USB cable.”

“Can I still talk to you?”

Your fingers on the keyboard stilled for a moment, surprised. “Of course. The program runs through your phone, not through comms.”

There was a little pause, before he said: “I have a question. About a Midgardian tradition.”

You wrinkled your nose, scanning the code rushing over the screen. “I’ll try my best, but I’m rubbish at traditions.”

The audible outbreath sent shivers down your spine. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“What’s your question then?”

“Tell me about the Yuletide calendar.”

45% done. “You mean the Advent calendar?”

“Precisely.”

This was dangerous territory you were treading on. “Oh, it’s a fun thing for kids, really. To make the wait for Christmas a bit more exciting and I guess more bearable. It’s nice to get a little something like a toy.”

“Is it always toys?”

69% now. “Well, no. My mum used to get me an advent calendar that had these lovely drawings behind each door. I hung it up in the front room and we’d open it together every morning.”

“I suppose it’s a nice custom,” he said, before asking, “What about grown ups, do they have advent calendars?”

83%. “Sometimes. There’s all sorts: beer, wine, beauty products, chocolates - you name it, it probably exists somewhere.”

“Books, too?”

The question threw you, did he know it was you? A light was blinking on your screen.

100%.

“That’s it, Loki, the virus is uploaded, you can unplug the cable now and get out of there.”

“Thank you, Y/N.”

You heard a crackle and the comms was handed over to operations again. As you finished running the decryption programme on the data Loki had extracted, you kept hearing his voice in your head.

“Books, too?” Were you busted?

*****

Security breaches were both an insult as well as an admittedly welcome challenge to you. Someone had tried to flex their fingers - and you had a very good idea who - to break into Stark’s network. They had managed to pierce a little hole into the outer layer of the firewall, but they didn’t know that you had several back up plans in place and you enjoyed watching them work. However, as you scanned over the intruder’s code you devised a new security strategy.

You were in the middle of coding a nice little primer for a new layer - unexpected because of its simplicity, but a tough little nut to crack - when someone cleared their throat next to you. You looked up to find Loki, his eyes fixed on you. You blinked, looked around, but no one else was there, and back up at the god.

“Can I, uh, help you?” Smooth. You facepalmed internally.

“I realised I have never been in here,” he said, looking around the room, then back at your desk. “You have a lot of monitors.”

You waved your hand dismissively. “Just the standard three.”

“What are you doing now? Or is it a secret?”

“It’s not a secret at all. So we’re currently under attack. Relax,” she said when she noticed him tense, “cyberattack. Someone’s knocking at our backdoor, trying to see if they can get in.”

You motioned to one of your screens. “This is the intruder’s code. He’s trying out lots of keys to see if he can get in. And this,” you pointed to the screen next to it, “is our defence mechanism.”

“Extraordinary.” Loki’s low voice murmured. He was close. You turned your head and nearly had a heart attack at just how close. His sharp profile was illuminated by the blue glow of the monitor, his hair falling to his shoulders, one hand splayed on the desk, the other resting on the back of your chair. He looked beautiful. Perfect. He was leaning closer to the screen so he could see what was going on. Your breath hitched.

And then he turned his head.

Something that sounded an awful lot like a squeak escaped your throat.

Loki lifted an eyebrow. “Am I making you nervous, Agent Y/N?”

You pushed your glasses up your nose and leaned back, just an inch. “No?”

Loki’s eyes drifted over your face, before they met your gaze again. “Is that a question or a statement?”

“A… a statement,” you mumbled and, for good measure, added, “sir.”

His eyes darkened, a smirk curling the left side of his lips. “Are you scared of me?”

You tilted your head ever so slightly. “How can I be scared of you?”

“You’ve heard the stories, undoubtedly.”

“I did. And if I believed everything people told me and not looked beyond I would be incredibly shitty at my job.”

He smiled at that. It was small, but there, and it made him so attractive you felt your stupid heart starting to pound in your chest. Could he hear it?

“Do you like to read, Agent Y/N?”

Another adjustment of your glasses. “I do.”

“What would you say is your favourite book?” His voice was low and smooth.

His hand moved from your desk to the side of your face, where he gently pulled on a tendril, before he brushed it behind your ear. The back of his fingers skimmed your cheek for less than a second, but it sent you reeling. It was as if an electromagnetic pulse was slowly wiping clean your hard drive. You couldn’t think.

“Um, err, Jane.. Jane Eyre.”

He hummed. “I wonder why? Is it because she’s abandoned and rejected all her life?”

You shook your head slowly. “No. Because she’s forced to leave home, into a life she didn’t choose. But when she is given the freedom and space to grow she learns to be the master of her happiness.”

His eyes followed the curve of your neck and back up again. It almost felt as if he was touching you. “Interesting.”

You swallowed again, before he stood upright, nodded at you, turned and left. 

Your heart was pounding. And then your computer beeped and your attention was back on the screen.

“Oh pants…” Your fingers started flying over the keyboard. “Not today, Harris. Or any other day.”

Nine more books to go.

*****

He was onto you. Of course he was. After all, he was the God of Mischief and Lies. If anyone would find out who was behind this, it would be him. Personally, the preferred outcome was that he never would find out.

You had asked yourself often over the last 18 days why exactly you wanted to do this for him. But that was just it. You really had no other motive than wanting to do this for him. Maybe because you sympathised with him, being stuck somewhere far from home, feeling lonely and not really integrated. Maybe you had projected your own feelings onto him a tiny little bit. Possibly considerably. However, it was done with the best of intentions. You wanted to make this nice for him. The run up to Christmas. A little bit magical. He must like magic, he was a sorcerer after all, wasn’t he?

So what if you had started dreaming of him at night. He would lean over you as you sat at your desk, in all his tall- and broadness. This time his hands would be touching you. And he’d lean in to whisper into your ear. Admittedly, not words you would necessarily associate with such a situation.

When you would wake up you knew where to place the things he said to you in your dreams. He’d said them to you during missions. And yes, “how much longer till the download is complete, Agent Y/N?” was not remotely as sexy as “I’m going to ravish you now, thoroughly” would have been, for example. But your brain only had so much to work with and it worked for you.

You noticed a few things, however. Loki was around more often, probably just a silly coincidence, or you had started to pay more attention. He looked at you now. You’d look up and find him already looking at you, sometimes a little smile crossed his lips, but mostly it was just something with his eyes, they seemed… warmer, maybe?

However, to your horror you discovered that you had started to blush. Every single time this happened. So you spent a lot of time in the ladies’ toilets, splashing your face with cold water, only to see it even more flushed than before. Apparently, all the books you had read lied about that ‘splashing your face with cold water to calm down and not make people notice’-thing.

But it all boiled down to the fact that he was onto you. Maybe he was humouring you and seeing where this was going. Maybe he had found out already and you made him feel awkward. Or he was waiting for the opportune moment to expose and humiliate you. You weren’t sure which.

Right now it didn’t matter. You were so tired you could hardly see properly anymore. So when you decided to crash on the sofa in the common room, because it was halfway to your room, you didn’t think to check if anyone was there.

That was mistake number one.

You collapsed onto the sofa with a groan, eyes closed, head leaning against the back of the sofa.

“Fuck. My. Fucking. Life,” you complained to the universe. “Can you please make the appendage of that misogynistic wanker fall off already? For fuck’s sake!”

Mistake number two.

Someone chuckled. It came from rather close to you.

Dread filled you. Foul language was not tolerated in the workplace. To be fair you could argue that the common room was not your workplace per se, however, you did not want to start arguing with HR because they were absolute savages in the art of word twisting. Or just savages full stop.

Carefully, you cracked your eyes open. And there, on the sofa right next to you, sat Loki. One leg was stretched out in all its glorious length, the other bent at the knee, his forearm resting over it, the book in his lap now closed, one of his slender fingers acting as bookmark. For a moment you wondered what it would feel like to be the book.

“I hope it’s not my appendage you’re asking to be removed,” he said with a smirk.

You grappled to sit up, horrified. “Of course not! That would be awful… I mean, a terrible thing to wish for… you’d… err… such a loss of such a beautiful… I mean, I can only guess… but… um, err… heavens, please make me stop talking…”

You hid your head in a throw pillow, wishing the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Mistake number three.

The sound of a low, rumbly laugh made its way to your ears. It entered your system like a virus, leaving your limbs feeling weak and yearning. Was Loki laughing? You lifted your head and watched him, highly bemused at your idiotic display.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard. You felt a hard tug at your heart. Goodness, if this man wasn’t already a god, you’d have to declare him one. If he were the head of a religion you would throw out your atheist views and follow him to the end of the multiverse. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Then again, when did he not?

“I’m so sorry,” you started to apologise, “I don’t know what-”

With superhuman speed he moved and sat next to you, his finger on your lips. The feel of his digit on your mouth felt more intimate than any sexual intercourse you’d ever had.

And then he leaned in.

He was so close your cells were basically breathing him in. His eyes were locked onto yours and nothing would have been able to make you look away right then.

“Do you want to know what book I’m reading right now?” His quiet words did things to your insides that were not legal.

You just about managed to nod, his finger still in place.

“‘The Remains of the Day’ by Kazuo Ishiguro. Do you know it?” He waited for your affirmation. “It’s about a man who is in love with a woman. But he doesn’t tell her. When they meet again after decades, she tells him her life would have been different if she had married him. And you know what he does? He still won’t admit his feelings to her. He walks away from her. The first time he lets her go, the second time he walks away.”

You remembered the book very well. You had picked it out for him, after all.

“It’s a cruel story, Y/N. A love that is never acknowledged, nor consumed.” Loki’s eyes drifted from yours down to your mouth. His finger slowly traced the outline of your lips. It was too much, your eyes closed.

“Do you think love is this cruel?” Loki asked quietly. You felt his words as he spoke them almost onto your skin. So close.

“It-it can be,” you whispered. “But maybe, maybe that wasn’t the point of the story.”

“No?”

You opened your eyes to find him looking at you. He’d moved away a bit, giving you some space, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Maybe the point was to show that he chose his job over love. Twice. You can call it dignity or pride, but at the end he’s alone. Without love.”

“What about you, Y/N? Do you have love in your life?”

You weren’t able to look into his eyes. Slowly, you got off the sofa. You turned back to him to respond to find he’d stood up, too.

You looked down at your shoes. His shoes were black, of course, polished, perfect, like him. Yours were several seasons old. Worn. A bit of the shoe sole had started to peel off at the top of your toes. The bit you always kicked into the floor when you worked.

Your eyes wandered up his trousers, black, to the belt, his pullover, also black. He looked effortlessly elegant, poised. You, on the other hand, looked a mess, even in your work attire. Your heart grew heavy at the realisation. Your dreams were stupid. Turned out your heart was even more stupid. And suddenly you felt incredibly small in more ways than one next to the tall, powerful god.

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you said: “I have known love, once. A long time ago.”

With that you pivoted on your heels and left, leaving Loki alone in the common room.

*****

Harris was an absolute tosser.

He just couldn’t leave things be. He insisted on trying to show you up, so he tried and tried to hack his way through your firewalls. Of course he had tried to hide his identity and it had made you chuckle, because you seriously had no idea how he could ever dare call himself a cyber security specialist if he covered up his tracks like a novice hacker.

In a way it was cute, but it was getting to the point of obsessive stalking and you frankly were rather tired of this little game by now. Particularly, since it kept you from your nice, warm, comfortable bed well past midnight.

However, Harris seemed to have changed tactics and started to badmouth you in the industry. Even Fury had called Tony and asked whether he should be worried, because Harris had dug up some hacking you’d done when you were much younger and much less ethical. Really it was unhinged, but everyone worked through teenage years in their own way.

You only knew this because you happened to be in Tony’s office and he had Fury on loudspeaker. Tony had pacified Fury without batting an eye, then hung up and asked if you’d be okay with him paying Harris a little visit, preferably as Iron Man. You had both laughed it off. But it bugged you.

So when you were on your way back to the tower from the compulsory (for all employees) counselling session and someone grabbed you, you weren’t surprised to come face to face with Harris. He didn’t lay a finger on you. No, he got two goons to do that for him.

Later, as you stumbled out of the lift and along the corridor, trying to make your way to your room, someone blocked your way.

“Speak of the devil! Y/N! We were just talking about you.” Tony. Other voices around him.

You kept your head down, thinking of how to get out of this unnoticed.

“We were just wondering if– Y/N? What happened?” You saw Tony’s hand reach out for you, but you flinched away.

Silence fell for a long moment.

Then a movement. Shoes appeared in your line of vision. You knew those shoes well. They had been on display on the couch for the past 22 days, attached to an Asgardian god.

He slowly held out his hand, palm up. An assurance, no harm. You gave the slightest nod. He moved the hand up and placed a finger under your chin so carefully you wanted to sob. The faintest of pressure had you lift your head to look up at Loki. His eyes scanned your appearance, stopping at your bruised hands that were trying to hold together your coat, taking in the blood splatters on the fabric, your busted lip, the lopsided glasses, the badly bent temple dangling off its hinge.

You never understood the expression ‘his features darkened’. You did now. Loki’s face transformed and you saw for the first time what a dangerous man he could be. Power radiated off him. You were glad it was not directed at you. His nostrils flared and you almost heard how much he was clenching his teeth.

“Names,” he ground out.

A hot tear rolled down your cheek and now that it started it didn’t want to stop. His eyes softened, something akin to vulnerability flitting across his features.

“H–Har…”

“Harris?” Tony asked softly. You nodded, still looking at Loki.

Loki rolled his lips in his mouth, his thumb swiping ever so lightly over the skin of your chin, before dropping his hand and walking to the lift in long strides.

“Nat?” Tony asked, the spy already by your side.

“Hold up, Reindeer Games!” Tony hollered behind you, as Romanoff led you down the corridor to your room. “I’m coming, too…”

It felt as if you were having an out of body experience as you were peeled out of your bloodied coat, your clothes and body assessed quickly but gently. She pulled out her phone after she ushered you into the shower.

“Tony? No forced intercourse, but lots of bruising…,” was all you heard before the hot spray of the water ran into your ears, blocking all noise out.

*****

Your glasses were fixed and you could see properly again. That was important, otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to see Harris’ face on the news as he was escorted - handcuffed - from a courtroom and shoved into a police van, followed by the two goons who had helped him.

When you turned from the screen above the cashier, you saw Loki next to Tony across the canteen, looking at you. You walked over, clutching your sandwich.

“So, um… thank you,” you said, gesturing to the screen, “for that.”

Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently, before his eyes gazed behind you. “Is that a double cheeseburger I see? Excuse me.”

And off he went, leaving you alone with the Asgardian god.

You shuffled your feet, studying the floor.

“Thanks again-”

“Are you okay?” 

You both said at the same time. You laughed quietly, looking up at him. He smiled. You’d never seen Loki smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said.

“I’m glad to hear it.”

You wanted to say so much more, do so much more, like hug him. But he was a god. You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for hugging gods. The awkward silence thickened.

“So, I’ll see you around?”

He was still smiling. “Yes. See you around.”

You were fairly sure you were blushing as you scampered off, back to your office.

*****

Bryant Park was one of your favourite places to be in New York. For one, it was right behind the public library - your heaven. For another, it was close to the Tower and you could wander the paths under the lovely trees. The park was very busy as it was Christmas Eve and people wanted to while away the time in the Winter Village until the big day. But as the ice rink closed down and the skaters came off, noses and cheeks red from the cold, the park started to empty.

You sat on a bench under one of the trees, gloved hands deep in your coat pockets, a woolly hat and scarf keeping you warm. Your head was tilted back and you watched the snowflakes dance and twirl in the cold wind.

“Y/N,” someone called.

Loki stood a few metres away from you, a black coat making him look even taller. He was not donning a hat or a scarf, he looked comfortable with the cold. The snow clung to his dark hair, a soft dusting was on his shoulders. You envied the snowflakes.

You got to your feet and he took a few steps closer, looking down at you.

“Were you enjoying the activities?” Loki asked, nodding to the ice rink.

“No, I just… I just like to sit here,” you said, feeling a bit silly. “I like the trees and the snow. It’s… peaceful.”

He nodded.

“How about you? Fancied a turn on the ice?”

He laughed and you watched the cloud mix with your breath. Now you envied your breath.

“Actually, I was looking for you.”

“Me?”

He took another step towards you. “Yes.”

“Why? Did something happen at the Tower?” Worriedly, you fumbled your phone out of the coat pocket and checked it.

A large hand covered it. You looked up. “Nothing happened. I wanted to talk to you.”

Nervously, you glanced down at his hand that still covered your phone. If you hadn’t been wearing gloves your hands would have had actual skin on skin contact. He dropped his hand to his side.

“Am I in trouble?”

He shook his head. “I… I wanted to thank you.”

“What for?”

His hand pulled a book out of his pocket. “For this.” He slid it back in the folds of his coat.

“Oh.” You didn’t really know how to feel or react. You knew he’d been onto you, so it was no surprise he’d sussed it out. He was, after all, the God of Mischief and Lies. But you had to give him kudos for letting it play out.

“Um, you’re welcome.” You bit your lip.

“You don’t know what this meant– what this means to me.”

It was impossible to look at him.

“I was dreading this time of year here on Midgard. But your incredibly generous advent calendar made it feel… like when I first visited here with my mother.” He grasped your gloved hands in his. “I miss her dearly, so thank you. For giving me this.”

You were too choked up to say anything, so you just nodded.

“Can I enquire what your reason was?”

It was so cautious, as if he was worried it might scare you off. And yet, the question threw you, most likely because you had been asking yourself the very same thing from the moment of its conception in your shower. It was just there, a need, an urgency you didn’t know where it came from or why it existed. It was something you had to do. Like breathing.

But over the course of the last few weeks, particularly the last few days, it had become painfully clear why you did it.

“I wanted, no, I needed you to be happy.”

He squeezed your hands gently. The tips of his shoes, his shiny, polished shoes, now touched yours.

“Please look at me.”

So you did. He looked different… vulnerable maybe.

“Why do you need me to be happy?” The question was another cloud and you breathed it in, let it fill your lungs.

“Because…” You were afraid to say it, to admit it. But something in his eyes made you courageous. Either that, or foolish.

“Because I watched you, during missions and in briefings and ops planning. You started to believe what they said about you. And it’s not true. There’s so much you don’t share, don’t tell them and I see it. It’s right there in your eyes. And I didn’t want you to lose yourself. And it’s selfish, I know, but I need you to be happy… because if you are, so am I.”

“If you think that’s selfish, then I am guilty of this notion, too.”

Loki raised his right hand to run the backs of his fingers over your cold cheek. “I knew after three days it was you. I wanted to see where this was going, what your motivation was. And I… when I saw you after Harris… I was filled with so much rage and fear. That I would lose you. Before I had you.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, you closed your eyes, heart beating out of your chest at what you were hearing. Was this a dream?

Loki’s voice was just above a whisper. “Can I? Have you?”

You moved away slightly to look into his eyes. “Yes.”

He leaned in, his hands splaying on your back, as you stood on your toes. The moment his lips touched yours, you felt a current run straight to your heart. It was as if your brain rewired, the missing piece of the primer clicked into place and unlocked everything.

Snow was falling as Loki kissed you under the tree. You didn’t hear the whistles and hollering of passerbys. You didn’t feel the cold wind. You felt elated, buzzing even.

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki murmured against your lips.

“Hm?” you said dreamily. 

“Your phone is buzzing,” Loki smiled, “someone’s calling you.”

Quickly you pulled out the damned device. Before you could even say your name, you heard Tony say: “So sorry for disrupting, Y/N, but we got a slight issue here that needs your expert skills pronto.”

You hung up, burying your head in Loki’s chest. His laugh rumbled in his chest. “We’ll talk more later.”

Breathing in his scent and holding onto him, you weren’t ready to let go. “Promise?”

*****

“Oh god, yes,” you sighed in absolute bliss. “That’s the spot, right there.”

Your groan sounded through the kitchen. You deserved that after three hours of extra work on Christmas Eve.

“Here?” Nat asked.

“Yes, yes! Please don’t stop,” you begged, putty in her hands, eliciting more noises from you.

“Maybe you should try yoga. Your shoulders and your whole upper body are so tense and full of knots. There’s a class I go to tomorrow at lunchtime, if you want to join me?”

“No time,” you murmured. “Heavens, Nat, what else can you do with those hands?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she teased.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Banner interrupted, grabbing Nat by the hand and dragging her to the door. “I’m happy to share my girlfriend’s masseuse skills for a severe case of muscle lock, but I’m afraid I have a personal request now.”

You opened your eyes to catch Nat winking at you, a slight blush on her cheeks as she was pulled out of the room. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you heard before they disappeared down the corridor.

You laughed and turned in your stool. Thor, Scott and Loki stood staring. Thor at the ends of his braids, Scott at his fingernails, Loki at you. Eyes intense and dark. You swallowed.

“Y/N, a word, if you please,” Loki said, before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and marching out of the room, with you trying to keep up with his long strides, your coat and shoulder bag in your other hand. 

He didn’t say a single word until you reached his room - it was closest - and the door shut behind you, locking the outside world out. He pushed you against the door, arm placed against the wood above your head, body leaning into yours, not quite touching.

“That was… a rather interesting display,” he remarked quietly, his breath puffing against your face as he spoke. “In future, I would prefer if your keening was reserved for me.”

Your hands found the buttons of his shirt. “That sounds like an exclusive right to me.”

“It most certainly is.” His lips hovered over yours.

Your index finger slipped in the space between two buttons. “A right that needs to be earned,” you whispered, your finger grazing his skin.

His breath hitched ever so slightly. “Do not challenge me, darling,” he leaned in, his body moving against yours teasingly. “It might be,” his mouth brushed against your earlobe, “too taxing for you.”

You scoffed, but his lips silenced you. His stance shifted as he picked you up and placed you on the nearest surface - a sideboard - and stepped between your legs. He broke the kiss, to cup your face. For a long moment he just gazed at you. The heat in his eyes seemed to intensify, turning you into a needy mess. He made a show of taking off your glasses, folding the temples and carefully putting them on the side board next to you. Your core clenched.

He held out his hand for you to hop off the furniture. You took it and he took to your lips.

It was quite possible that several things fell off on your way to Loki’s bedroom. When you pushed him into the wall to open the damned buttons of his shirt, a picture might have fallen. A vase, perhaps, when he picked you up and spun you around so your back was against the doorframe next to the fragile ornament. Your head hit the heavy frame of a painting, rendering it lopsided, when Loki feasted on your throat, and you tilted your head back to allow him better access.

Kissing, licking, nipping, sucking - he was intent on leaving marks. Your fingers somehow were in his hair, keeping his head in place. Soft, his hair was so soft. A sharp contrast to the teeth you felt pulling on your skin. His ministrations drew a long moan from you.

Loki smiled against your skin. “Yes, my siren, sing.”

Your back hit the mattress and he crawled over you. His hair a curtain, screening you off from the rest of the world in your own sacred space. His shirt hung open, your hands reached out, tracing each line, each dip. His tongue against yours mimicked the motion of his hips that rolled into you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, meeting each movement, as if you had practised this dance many times before. He pulled away to tug off your pullover. His fingers pushed up your bra and then he sucked your nipple into his hot mouth, making you arch your back.

“Loki, please.”

You didn’t really know what you begged for. More, probably. More of this, more of him.

He pulled you up so you both were kneeling on the bed. Shaking hands fumbled with clothes and fastenings and then you were both naked. Your breath hitched at his beauty.

“Can I…,” you started, voice sounding hoarse. You looked up at him. “Please let me worship you.”

Something flickered across his face - surprise? He gave a curt nod and then watched every single one of your movements.

You took his right hand, tracing each finger with yours, the veins on the back of his hands. You brought his hand up to your face, cradling it to your cheek, before kissing the palm of his hand. One finger at a time, you sucked it into your mouth, to the knuckle, your tongue swirling around the digit, before releasing it and pressing a kiss to the tip, before moving on to the next.

Your hands traced the skin of the inside of his arm, his veins, the rise and fall of his muscles, and up over his shoulder, across his chest to his left arm, which you gave the same treatment. Each birthmark, each scar was kissed. Your hands skimmed over his chest, your lips followed the path. Loki’s breath stuttered when you sucked on his left nipple, before you released it, softly blowing on it. It puckered. You bestowed the same treatment upon the other nipple.

“Please, lie down,” you whispered and he complied.

You lay next to him, kissing his forehead, your fingers running through his hair along his scalp, gently tugging. Onwards, to kiss the curve of each eyebrow, the bridge of his nose, his cheekbones, his chin, along his jawline to his ear. You felt his body shiver when you breathed: “You are so beautiful, inside and out.”

Then your teeth closed around his earlobe, gently pulling. A deep moan sounded through the room. Up until now he had let you do whatever you wanted to and not touched you. But his restraint waned and his hands splayed on your back, pulling you flush against his body. You kept going, your lips now worshipping his delectable throat. He tilted his head back to give you better access.

“Herregud,” he rasped as you kissed, licked and sucked on his sensitive skin. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed hard, his hands growing slack on your back.

You kissed the dip between his collar bones and worked your way down his torso, lips kissing, hands caressing. Further and further you went, along his abs, dipping in his belly button, following the trail of hair below. You leaned back a bit, to look at him. He was fully erect, heavy, swaying slightly. The purple mushroom head gleaming with pearls of pre-cum, thick veins running down the shaft to his pubic hair.

You licked your lips, curling one of your hands around his base, the other cupping his testacles. Then you looked up at him. He was up on his elbows, staring down at you hotly, biting his lips as he watched you in anticipation. You made sure to have and maintain eye contact and then you took him into your mouth.

He hissed, his head falling back, a loud moan following when you hollowed your cheeks to apply suction, the salty taste of his precum on your tongue.

You moved your hand up his length, still sucking, giving his testicles a gentle yet confident squeeze. Up your mouth went, your tongue circling his slit, before sucking him back in. The third time you did it, his hands clasped your shoulders.

“Stop.”

You looked up at him. Loki was breathing hard and you let his cock slide from your mouth with a wet ‘plop’.

In an instant your back was on the mattress and he hovered over you.

“Please don’t misunderstand,” he explained, voice rough, “I loved it, but I have plans.”

He settled between your legs, eyes locked on yours, hand on your thigh, pulling your leg around his waist. His hand slid up, splaying over the fullness of your ass, before giving it a firm squeeze, then sliding over the globe and dipping between your legs. When his slender digits made contact with your aching centre, you cried out. Your whole body was throbbing with need.

“All this nectar is for me?” he rasped. 

You nodded.

“Oh, I have to see this.” And in one fluid motion he sat back on his heels, spreading your legs with his hands, looking at your dripping wet centre in amazement.

“Wait a moment,” he said, before he scrambled off the bed and disappeared in the corridor, only to come back a few moments later to resume his place between your legs. He handed you something with a smirk. Your glasses.

“I want you to see me.”

You put them on, your heartbeat accelerating. You bit your lip in anticipation. He looked up at you, his hot breath puffing against your wet core and then his flat tongue licked you all the way from your entrance to your clit. Your fingers fisted in the bedsheets, eyes falling shut in ecstasy, mouth open in a silent cry.

“Look at me.”

You did. He started a rhythm of licking, sucking and lapping that had the coil inside you wind up and tighten impossibly in no time at all. You fell back onto a pillow. Then he slid two fingers inside you and your hands dove into his hair, tugging, scraping.

What a visual. Loki between your legs, eyes burning into yours, humming and moaning against your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, curling just at the right time, at the exact angle you needed. It was as if you were a book he’d read a thousand times before. Your toes curled and then you fell into the abyss. You moaned out his name over and over as the orgasm washed over you, leaving your legs shaking.

Loki moved up your body, placing kisses on your thighs, your tummy, your breasts, before he brushed some hair out of your face. You took your glasses off, he placed them on the bedside table. His eyes searched yours.

“I need you, Loki,” you managed, pulling him down.

He kissed you deeply, slowly, the taste of you on his tongue. His hips rocked forward and he slid inside you all the way to the hilt. Loki stilled and broke the kiss, resting his damp forehead against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispered.

Your fingers caressed his back. Unable to form words, you nodded. Then he moved. His hips rocked into yours in slow, deep thrusts. He filled you so well, stimulating places inside you you didn’t know existed. Your hands ran over his back, down his sides, making him shiver. He watched you, eyes dark but warm. One hand found your swollen clit and his fingers circled and rubbed, applying the pressure you needed to fall into oblivion again. Your feet pressed into his ass cheeks to bring him closer, deeper and his name fell from your lips over and over.

He rocked inside you as you rode out your orgasm. You opened your eyes to look at him in wonder. Never had you seen anything as beautiful as Loki. He seemed to glow from the inside. Maybe it was your imagination. You lifted your head, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue moved languidly against yours, savouring the intimacy.

Then he started moving faster, pulling one of your legs up to rest the calf against his shoulder. Deeper, you wanted him deeper. You couldn’t get close enough. His mouth was devouring yours in a needy kiss, all tongues and teeth now as he pistoned faster into you, your hips meeting each of his thrusts. His lips found your nipple, sucking, pulling on it, moving to its sibling. You couldn’t believe you were on the verge again already. Never before had you been able to orgasm more than once during intercourse.

The room was quiet but for the moans, the heavy breathing. You were so wet that your coupling’s noise was wonderfully dirty, edging you both on even more.

“Look at us,” Loki commanded and you did.

Nothing had ever been so erotic as watching him fill you, stretch you, sliding out, covered in your juices. His fingers were on your clit again, rubbing, circling.

“I don’t know if I can…”

“One more, darling, give me one more,” he insisted, breathlessly.

His hips moved faster, as did his fingers and you were there, on the edge. Loki’s eyes met yours and he knew. His movements stuttered, pupils fully blown, jaw slack, a drop of sweat sliding down his temple.

“Cum with me,” you whispered, your fingers dragging down his back, possibly breaking skin, squeezing and pulling his ass into you.

And he did, propelling you into bliss with him. Your name fell from his lips in a string of Norse profanities. His cock pulsated as the hot ropes of his seed marked your insides as his, your pussy eagerly clenching around him, making sure every last drop would be spent inside you. His movements slowed and then he stilled, buried inside you.

Loki’s lips pressed onto yours in a tender kiss. You stayed in the embrace until you both caught your breath. Then he pulled out of you, your mixed juices running out of you. He could have cleaned you up using magic.

But Loki got out of bed, got a wet flannel from the bathroom and gently cleaned you, kissing your tired body, before sliding back into bed. He pulled you into his arms, your hands joined over his heart, legs intertwined and you both lay there, in your bubble of utter and complete happiness under warm covers, watching the snowflakes dance outside the window in the early hours of Christmas Day.

Christmas Day!

“Oh, wait here!”

You scrambled off the bed and ran to the door, forgetting about your nakedness, pulling your shoulder bag from under your coat. You pulled something from it and brought it back to Loki. He was sitting up, forearms resting on his knees, an intrigued look on his face. 

“Merry Christmas,” you said.

He looked at you and then at the present you held out to him. He cocked an eyebrow as he took it and pulled the fabric ribbon off. His hands parted the paper and then he grew completely still.

“Where in the nine realms did you get this?” he asked after a few moments, voice sounding rough.

“A friend of mine got her hands on this a while back. I thought you might like it.”

He stared at the book, transfixed. His slender fingers caressing the embossed letters on the front and then he lifted it to take in the scent of the pages. His eyes closed.

“Do you? Like it, I mean?” You were worried about this book. It had cost an arm and a leg, but you thought it would be worth it.

“Like it?” Loki asked, finally looking at you and pulling you on his lap. “My mother used to read me his poems when I was a child. I rediscovered it later. This is…”

He was searching for words, failed to find them and instead kissed you, hard, hand fisting in your hair. After a long moment, he broke the kiss.

“Thank you, love.”

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist, stroking his pulse point.

“Will you read it to me?” you asked, a bit out of breath.

Nodding, he sat against the headboard, you curled up against him with his arm around you. He made sure you were both tucked under the covers. Then he opened the book and cleared his throat.

“Kormákr Ӧgmundarson ‘Sigurðardrápa ‘Drápa’. This is one of my favourites, he wrote it for the love of his life.”

His fingers wandered up your arm.

“Brunnu beggja kinna

bjǫrt ljós á mik drósar,

oss hlœgir þat eigi,

eldhúss of við felldan.”

His digits absently stroked your ribcage, skirting over the side of your breast. The rhythm and intonation of his deep voice made you clench your thighs.

“Enn til ǫkkla svanna

ítrvaxins gatk líta,

þrǫ́ muna oss of ævi

eldask, hjá þreskeldi.”

He paused, closing the book and brushing his lips against the skin of your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut.

“What-what does he say?” you all but stuttered.

Loki kissed along your collarbone. Humming against your skin.

“The bright lights of both

her cheeks burned onto me

from the fire-hall's felled wood;

no cause of mirth for me in that.”

His hands cupped your breasts as he sucked and teased one of the nipples. Your hands tugged on his hair, desperate for him again already. You felt his need hard and heavy against your thigh.

“By the threshold I gained a glance

at the ankles of this girl

of glorious shape.”

Loki moved to lie between your legs, hands sliding over your breasts, your tummy, your thigh, down to your ankle, lifting it to wrap it around his hips.

“Yet while I live

that longing will never leave me.”

His voice faltered as he rocked his hips forward and your bodies were joined once more.

“That longing will never leave me,” he repeated like a vow, eyes serious and warm.

“Nor me,” you pledged, before you lost yourselves in the physical expression of your feelings once more.

~ fin ~

[soberpluto]

Examining Neptune's Spell

Apologies for not being here after so much time, but now I'm back and very thrilled to share this with you all! I'm hopeful many can find this helpful.

Unnecesary context aside, just recently I was having a long and deep conversation with a friend of mine about my semi-recurring mini existential crises. After hearing me patiently, with the dear intention of making me realize I was drowning in my tiny glass of water, he simply (and brilliantly) replied:

"I think you're problem is that you have unrealistic expectations about yourself."

Any attempt to blurt out in self-defense ceased instantly because of how deep these words sunk in my mind. I stared into the wall before for me and felt how the missing puzzle piece finally dropped into the perfect spot. Obviously, the thought of having my sun in Cancer and Neptune in almost exact opposition popped inside, and it took a WHOLE new dimmension. How could this statement not be true?! OF COURSE he was right! It's not that I wasn't told that before or haven't read about it multiple times in my astrology studies, but the truth is, (a very Neptunian thing now that I think about it) I didn't believe it quite applied to me. Because I don't like to feel mediocre and because I think of myself as a spiritual and highly self-aware woman, I was convinced that holding myself to "unrealistic standards" was definitely NOT the reason that triggered me to want fleed to a desert islands at times when reality felt like too much. It was bitterly humorous when I realized I evidently missed the fact that Neptune was making a hell of a job doing what he does best: casting its spells of illusion and glittery distorted beliefs about how things were "supposed to be" in a surprisingly unadverted way into my life. I was truly relieved to actually understand (or accept, better said) why trying to have a simple and happy life seemed too tricky at times. It all made sense.

Now, let me introduce Neptune, if you happen to be unacquainted.

Neptune in astrology is like the ultimate dream weaver, spinning a web of intuition, imagination, and mystery. It’s the planet of all things ethereal, where reality gets a little blurry, and you’re invited to dive into the deep end of fantasy, spirituality, and idealism. Neptune whispers, "What if?" and suddenly, we're seeing the world through a kaleidoscope of possibilities, but a "little" foggy on the details. We're all influenced by Neptune one way or another, but when it touches personal planets or points in our charts, it’s like life hands us a pair of customized rose-colored glasses, but the prescription is way off. Suddenly, everything feels a bit magical, like we're starring in your own fairytale, except the castle is made of mist, the prince might just be a mirage, and that enchanted forest? It’s actually a parking lot.

But why bother making us feel loony? On a more serious note, our master illusionist possesses the higher purpose of awakening our connection to something greater than the everyday grind. It gently pulls us out of the rigid boundaries of reality and whispers, "There’s more to life than meets the eye." It invites us to explore the depths of our imagination, spirituality, and compassion, blurring the lines between self and universe. The illusions it creates are really a nudge to dissolve our ego’s grip, helping us see beyond the material and embrace a higher sense of love, creativity, and unity with the cosmos.

As inspiring and touching as it sounds, the catch is that fulfilling Neptune’s mission can feel like chasing fog—just when we think we’ve got a handle on it, it slips through our fingers. Neptune wants us to transcend reality and connect with the divine, but let’s be real: that’s not exactly a day-to-day, grocery-list-friendly goal. For someone with heavy Neptune influence, this pursuit of higher meaning can be disorienting, leaving them feeling lost in a sea of "what ifs" and "maybes." And thanks to its grandeur idealism, it can push people to be hypersensitive, highly fearful of failure and completely inaccurate with what they may achieve in a day, let alone a lifetime!

For a Neptunian, the intuitive desire to be flawless and sufficient does not come from wordly expectations, but from a place of soulful calling that more often unconsciously than consciously tells them they're limitless beings living in a limited reality. And this is exactly the greatest challenge of all: to accept that the truth must be known while respecting the illusion, just as a spiritual teacher Michael Mirdad states.

That said, you can imagine what happens when mystical and whimsical Neptune gets cozy with your personal planets. Let's see in detail how it sprinkles its glitter them:

Sun

Soft Aspects: With soft aspects, your Sun is shining brighter than ever! Neptune sprinkles fairy dust on your creativity and confidence, making you feel like a superstar in your own musical. It’s all about embracing your spiritual side and believing that you can conquer the world—cape optional!

Hard Aspects: You’re the artist of your own identity, but the canvas keeps shifting. One day you’re an astronaut, the next day you’re a poet, and by the end of the week, you’re contemplating becoming a full-time mystic. Neptune tells you, "Be everything," but sometimes that just leaves you wondering, "Who am I, really?"

Moon

Soft Aspects: Your emotions flow like a gentle river, and you’re tuned in to everyone’s feelings like a super empath (you could be a cool wizard/witch or clairvoyant!). Neptune wraps you in a cozy blanket of intuition, making heartfelt connections feel like a warm hug from the universe. Cue the happy tears!

Hard Aspects: Enter the emotional whirlpool! Neptune can stir up your feelings like a cosmic blender, leading to mood swings and a general sense of overwhelm. You might find yourself daydreaming your way through real-life emotions, and good luck figuring out what you actually feel!

Mercury

Soft Aspects: With Neptune’s gentle nudge, your thoughts become a beautiful symphony! Communication flows like honey, and you’re bursting with creative ideas. It’s a fantastic time for writing, brainstorming, or chatting about all things magical and dreamy! You could be a music lover, a great singer or a romantic poet.

Hard Aspects: But when Neptune goes rogue, it’s like trying to read a recipe in a funhouse—everything’s upside down! Your thoughts get scattered, and communication feels like a game of telephone gone wrong. Get ready for misunderstandings and the occasional “Wait, what did you just say?” This aspect looks very similar to a Piscean or Sagittarian Mercury, a common link to ADHD.

Venus

Soft Aspects: Love is in the air! Neptune turns your romantic life into a whimsical fairy tale, where everything feels enchanting. Your heart opens wide, and connections deepen, making even the smallest moments feel like a scene from a rom-com.

Hard Aspects: But hold on! Neptune might have you wearing those rose-colored glasses a bit too tightly. You might find yourself idealizing partners or being swept away by fantasies, only to crash back to reality when things don’t match your dreamy expectations. Ouch!

Mars

Soft Aspects: With Neptune in your corner, your drive becomes a creative spark! You’re ready to take action with a burst of inspiration, making you feel like a superhero on a mission. Time to tackle those goals with flair and imagination!

Hard Aspects: When Neptune throws in a twist, it’s like trying to run through quicksand. Your motivation might wane, leaving you confused about where to focus your energy. It’s a cosmic case of “I had a plan… what was it again?”

To wrap it up after such long post, living with Neptune’s influence means you’ve got a backstage pass to the land of dreams, creativity, and big feelings. But it also means you might find yourself getting tangled up in illusions, setting sky-high standards that real life simply can’t meet. So when Neptune touches your personal planets, just remember: it's okay to dream big, but keep a little reality check in your back pocket. You can chase those rainbows, but don’t forget to pack an umbrella for when they dissolve into rain.

Thanks so much for reading, love you! 🥰

Written by @soberpluto

[elderwisp]

On Repeat - an oc tag

rules are pretty simple, pick as many (or as little) oc's as you'd like and find a song that you relate to them the most! feel free to mention why too! o and tag some more ppl too! that would be cool! i tag: @goldenwaves @acidheaddd @dejasenti99 @earthmoonz @moonfromearth @stinkrascal @matchalovertrait @lynzishell @sirianasims @vicciouxs @gvaudoiin-tricou @smulie @living-undead @pralinesims @lucidicer @literalite @nepotisim @mattodore @madebycoffee @daniigh0ul @changingplumbob @yukikocloud @cinamun @moonwoodhollow @youredreamingofroo @acuar-io @raiiny-bay

deep dive below ⇣

Frances Dubois:

Something about the whimsical instrumentals backed up with the haunting vocals almost reminds me of someone stuck in a loop. There's repetition in the chorus that solidifies that feeling. I also like the juxtaposition of the French lyrics, like the second singer is aware and has a desire to change. When I think of Frances, I envision someone in limbo and part of that is the inability to make a decision. She finds herself stuck, in a way, her anxiety makes the decision for her because doing nothing is something. Whilst Icarus has helped nudge her into making decisions such as aiding her in graduating, speaking to Atlas, and supporting her in her audition. there's still this internal desire to make that move on her own. The first time we see her do that is when she decides to kiss Icarus, which in a way, pushed her back into her loop as it didn't end well. As of current events, she's avoided him since.

↬ sometimes - mattyeux and princess chelsea

Daniella Álvarez:

This song to me encapsulates someone who has had to be independent at a very young age. The beginning opens with spoken lyrics, "She asked me who's taking care of me, I said, 'I take care of me'" and whilst incredibly empowering, there's always that question of how did we get here? Dan is the eldest of two younger siblings. In fact, there's quite the age gap between her siblings and if we look at Valeria, she also looks just as youthful. Dan is the product of an unplanned pregnancy as well as a bit of a narcissistic mother. The disorderly environment in which she's been given, learning to be a caretaker of her siblings and the constant pressure of success has lead her to have self-sufficient character. Whenever I think about her dynamic with her friends, I'm reminded of this scene, and she's the glue that is trying to hold the chaos together.

↬ taken care of - suzi wu

Kai Castillo:

Christ this song is so good. The instrumentals backed up by the vocals, feels a bit somber. Throughout Tessellate, Kai hides behind the fact that he has these feelings towards Atlas and they've started to bubble over into jealousy as Atlas's relationship grows with Kai's sister, Taryn. I also love that there are a lot of comparisons here to Lucifer Morningstar and religious elements. Kai's relationship with his religion is somewhat of a paradox as he is a closeted gay man to his parents, his sister and church. In fact, he does a lot of things that would bring quite a bit disapproval. He's unforthcoming, somewhat suspicious because his secrets have given him a reason to be. His story is of one that falls from grace.

↬ i am the antichrist to you - kishi bashi

Atlas Dubois:

While Paul Julian Banks narrates a song about struggling with addiction, I noticed there's a bit of a different beat in comparison to the rest of Interpol's songs. The tempo is much slower, as if exhaustion has set in and we're barely moving along. When we meet Atlas, it's at the beginning of a fresh start, not really knowing what has happened prior. Slowly throughout, we pull back minor details that entail his complex struggles with addiction. What initially started out as a bit of fun, became all consuming, allowing any given opportunity to be a reason why he should use. The bridge of this song also discuss the contrast between himself and his partner discovering his addiction for the first time. There's also a change in his tone during that that I find to be so neat! It does remind me a bit of his relationship with Taryn. I do know that addiction lasts a lifetime, and that love doesn't solve it all, but I also know that right support is the most important.

↬ rest my chemistry - interpol

[justalia]

anxiety? read this

the reason why i decided to write this is because i’ve been getting the same question multiple times and i feel like there’s a need to dive deep into this issue.

anxiety in the state of the wish fulfilled

the questions i get are:

“idk why but i’m anxious when i get in the state, is it normal?”

“how do you deal with anxiety while in the state?”

“why am i anxious when i imagine my wish fulfilled?”

lucky for you i’m here to clear these doubts.

short answer:

if you’re anxious when imagining your wish fulfilled then you’re not in the state.

long answer:

now let me preface this by saying that emotions do not manifest but can arise based on which state you are in.

we all say that emotions don’t matter at all because it simply shouldn’t be your focus to feel “positive” emotions all the time, BUT with your state changing you can feel different emotions.

what is a state explained in simple words?

it is a concept of yourself, an experience, a reality you want to experience.

with this knowledge tell me why imagining yourself to be who you really want to be and believing that to be true would arise any anxiety within you.

quickly!

tell me why something you so deeply want being fulfilled, true, realized would arise anxiety within you.

it simply shouldn’t.

when you step into the state and imagine yourself to be who you want to be, believe it to be true and then anxiety starts immediately it means you haven’t actually accepted that concept of yourself to be true.

if you had you would probably feel something similar to relief, satisfaction, bliss accompanied by a confidence in knowing you now are who you want to be and have what you want to have.

anxiety and fear do not belong to the state of the wish fulfilled simply because they belong to the opposite of it: you’re anxious if you don’t know for sure if your desire is yours, you fear if you don’t know for sure your 3D is gonna reflect.

anxiety and fear are born when you don’t internalize the law and doubt it.

anxiety and fear go hand in hand with doubt.

your anxiety stems from the same place that peace comes from, you are the cause of it. you feel anxious because you think something outside is happening, something else outside of you can happen and take your desire away.

how do you deal with this “problem”?

the solution is very simple, almost so simple that your logical mind won’t allow you to accept such a thing.

the only reason why you experience anxiety is because you have not accepted your true identity.

you may think you are believing it is true but you are not accepting it as fact.

you are lying to yourself if you say you accepted it as fact but then you go and look for it, you doubt it, you feel anxious, you worry about what’s gonna happen and how you’re gonna react if the opposite shows up.

only acknowledging the opposite as a possibility is showing you which state you are in.

i feel like most of you focus on states because it looks like a method you can use to manifest but you never actually acknowledge your true identity. you don’t take your time to understand who you truly are and without acknowledging and accepting your true identity you will continue to flip flop between states.

states are not a method, you don’t choose to use states. states are all there is, states of consciousness is what the world is.

different states of consciousness are different experiences you can have within, and as within so without.

states are experiences you are consciously choosing to live in imagination. whether these experiences be good or bad you need to understand that imagination is all there is, you are always living in a world of imagination.

every single experience you have/want is just a state.

without being clear on who you really are you will continue to doubt and reason your way into manifestation and eventually you’ll be finding yourself in what seems to be a never ending cycle of trying and self-sabotaging, filled with doubt, fear, anxiety and worry.

you put your 3D world on such a high pedestal (i’m not blaming you) and you don’t believe to be who you really want to be because you are “only” imagining it.

i say that i don’t blame you because i know this new way of behaving and reacting and thinking is the exact opposite of what we have always been thought:

the physical world is reality, therefore something is real only if you physically see it

we don’t know why and how things happen to us

we need to work hard to achieve what we want

be “realistic” the world of the senses is factual

it seems so unnatural to think that WE are the CAUSE of everything, that things happen TO us and not THROUGH us.

it seems so unnatural to dismiss the physical world as basically fake and not take as fact what other people tell you.

i know it seems unbelievable but it isn’t.

it simply isn’t and you can prove it to yourself by looking back at your life experiences, you can see how everything came from imagination first, you can see how you’re always trusting your opinion over anything. you can see it so clearly and when you see it you will feel extremely dumb for not believing it.

your true identity

i ALWAYS talk about this, every answer i give you when you ask me something includes this basic information but i’m not sure you take it as seriously as i want you to take it.

there’s is no other world outside of imagination and there’s is no other self outside of imagination.

you fear because you think in terms of separation: you think theres some other cause outside of you making things happen and you think that the outer world is separate from imagination, you believe 3D and 4D to be separate.

i want this to be the only time you need something outside of you for validation, i want this to be the last post you read to check if you’re “doing it right”, i want this to be the last realization you need.

there is no inner man AND outer man, there’s only the inner man in imagination living inside of a flesh body.

you are not your flesh body (yes, this is why you can change your appearance), you are not your brain (this is why there’s no such thing as making neural pathways or convincing/reprogramming your subconscious), you are not your mind (this is why thoughts don’t manifest), you are not your state (this is why you can jump in and out of states and why you can’t be stuck in a state), you are not your emotions or feelings (this is why you NEED to let out your emotions and not be mad at yourself for whatever reaction you had).

you are pure consciousness, you are I Am.

you are all imagination and imagination is all there is, the world of the senses has no choice but to mimic imagination, it has to, there is NO OTHER CAUSE.

if you’re the inner man living in imagination always and imagination is the only creator/only reality there’s no way that what you declare to be yours isn’t fact.

whatever happens in imagination is a fact, the problem is that we have been thought to dismiss imagination as fiction and contaminate our states with the world of the senses forgetting that we created the physical experience.

the senses are mimicking imagination and unless you accept imagination as the only creator of physical experience you will not be able to let go of doubts and reasoning. you will continue to worry and wonder “is it enough?” “is it really true?” you won’t take it seriously.

unless you truly understand that you are a figment of god and all you have to do is decide that that’s yours now, that’s who you are now you will continue to go back and forth between the state of having and the state of not having.

imagination is your creator and you just need to truly internalize that you can have what you want because everything in this world is your creation whether you believe it or not.

don’t start to wonder if it’s right to just declare something as yours, if you’re worthy of it, because all that you are experiencing is your creation. everything is created by you.

by actually understanding that everything is your creation you will stop wondering about what you should or shouldn’t do based on other people’s judgment, you stop thinking things “oh maybe it’s not right to manifest my sp, why would i force anything on them? it’s not right.” because you created them not wanting to be with you in the first place.

you are not changing anyone or forcing anything on anybody. everything was created by you and if you don’t like it you have the power and the right to change it because this is your life, this is your reality, why would you choose to experience something you don’t want if you can experience something else?

there’s nobody outside of you and you don’t have to ask permission to have what you want, you give it to yourself.

you are always fulfilling yourself with something, you are always assuming things to be true so instead of perpetually being fulfilled with not having your desire why don’t you just accept it is yours now?

the concept of time doesn’t exist outside of you, future and past only exist in your mind and when you imagine you need to remove the concept of time and only worry about experiencing it now.

when you fear what’s gonna happen tomorrow it’s because you think there’s something outside of you causing things to happen.

see how just knowing your true identity solves all of your problems?

there is NOTHING other than imagination causing stuff to happen, NOTHING!!! get this inside your little head and accept that the 3D is dead and powerless. it can’t do anything to you, it’s not your enemy it’s only adjusting according to you!

you can’t be in the state and expect something opposite to happen, it means you haven’t accepted the new state as fact.

tomorrow is shaped by who you are being now!

so why worry about tomorrow if the cause of tomorrow is who you are now?

why worry about the future if the cause of it is who you are being now?

enjoy being the person who has their desire right now because that’s all you can do. enjoy being it now.

enjoy being financially stable now.

enjoy being in a relationship now.

enjoy being loved now.

enjoy being beautiful now.

enjoy being intelligent now.

because it is true, you really are it, you really have it.

don’t “pretend”, don’t think you have to trick yourself into believing it has expressed physically because that’s not your job, your job is to dismiss the 3D as not real because even your manifestation materialized won’t give you anything you didn’t give to yourself first.

you don’t have to trick yourself into believing it is physically here, you have to understand that invisible reality it’s what’s real and you don’t need to give a meaning to the 3d which is only mimicking imagination.

the 3D is only mimicking the feeling of having you are feeling.

learn to accept a new truth, new ideas of you to be true and don’t fight the old state when it tries to come back, learn to be indifferent by accepting a new truth in its place.

[clarkeylesbian]

The Frog-Off

[Sypnosis : you and arthur attempt at the clay tiktok trend]

The camera turns on, and Arthur is grinning at it with his usual mix of smugness and charm. “Right, so!” he starts, his excitement barely contained. “Today, I’ve got a very special guest—my girlfriend, Y/N!” He gestures to the side of the frame.

The camera swivels to reveal you waving shyly. You’re already covered in a layer of clay because, true to Arthur’s style, you didn’t prepare at all before starting the intro.

“We’re diving into the clay modelling challenge that’s been blowing up on TikTok,” Arthur explains, picking up two lumps of green clay. “We’ll recreate a model we find online, and then you all get to vote on who did it better. But let me tell you, it’s going to be me.”

You fold your arms and raise an eyebrow. “You’ve never even touched clay before, Arthur.”

“It’s all about confidence, babe.”

Arthur pulls out his phone and shows it to the camera. The model you’ve chosen is a cute frog sitting on a lilypad. Simple enough, right?

Wrong.

“Alright,” Arthur says, squinting at the clay like he’s about to solve a complex maths problem. “Frog on a lilypad. This should be a piece of cake.”

You are already deep into your clay, focusing intently. “You say that now, but I’m already feeling like I’m failing this frog.”

The camera zooms in on your work, which resembles more of a squashed loaf of bread than a frog. Meanwhile, Arthur is still staring at his clay as if it’s the love of his life.

“You know,” Arthur muses, poking at the clay, “frogs are naturally lumpy. So, this is just me capturing their true texture.”

The camera pulls back to reveal Arthur’s creation: a round blob with legs sticking out at odd angles.

“I don’t know what that is,” you laugh, “but it’s definitely not a frog. It looks like a rejected Pokémon, bless.”

“It’s abstract,” Arthur defends. “You’ve got to feel the frog, not just mould it. This is art.”

“You seem more in love with your attempt at a frog than me,” you joke as Arthur kisses you on the head.

“I could never.”

You try not to laugh as you add eyes to your frog, which only makes it look high. Arthur plops two giant clay lumps onto his frog’s face, but they immediately fall off.

“Well, that’s just offensive,” he grumbles, trying to squish them back on.

There’s a brief pause before you point at the mess with a grin. “R.I.P. to your frog.”

Arthur shrugs. “We still have the lilypad. This is where I can shine. I can make circles.”

He grabs another lump of clay, slams it down on the table, and flattens it with his palm. “Behold, the lilypad.”

The camera pans to reveal something that looks more like a deflated pizza dough than a lilypad. You’re carefully shaping yours into a leaf-like form, too focused to notice Arthur’s attempt.

Arthur dramatically announces, “Oh, babe, get ready to be amazed.”

He proudly sets his “lilypad” on the table and places his pancake-like frog on top. It stays put, though it doesn’t exactly look stable.

You glance over and start laughing, trying to keep your own frog intact. “Is that… supposed to look like that?”

Arthur looks at his creation proudly.

As he adjusts his frog, one of its legs suddenly breaks off. Arthur throws his hands up in mock defeat. “Well, it seems like my frog’s had a bit of an accident.”

[] []

With your frogs and lilypads (if you can even call them that) side by side, you both step back to judge the results.

“Alright,” Arthur says, rubbing his hands together like a game show host. “It’s time to compare. Let’s see who's frog reigns supreme.”

You both lean in to examine the creations. Arthur’s frog looks like it’s had a rough day: half-melted, one eye missing and legs that are on the verge of breaking again.

Your frog isn’t perfect, but at least it’s recognizably a frog. It’s lumpy with one leg too big, and the lilypad looks like it was made from Play-Doh, but there’s a certain charm in its beady eyes.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Arthur says, trying to hold back laughter. “Your frog is.. fine. It’s decent. But mine has character. It’s got a story. It’s been through some things.”

You cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Your frog looks like it’s seen the apocalypse.”

Arthur places a dramatic hand on his heart. “Exactly. It’s got emotional depth. My frog feels things.”

You both crack up as Arthur picks up his frog, and the legs fall off once more.

“Well,” Arthur shrugs, holding up the dismembered frog, “I think we all know who the real winner is here.” He turns to the camera. “But you guys, comment below! Who do you think made the better frog?”

You shake your head, still grinning. “Clearly me”

The camera zooms in dramatically on Arthur’s clay disaster as he whispers, “Art.”

“If you enjoyed this chaos,” Arthur says, trying to sound professional despite the mess, “don’t forget to like, subscribe, and hit the bell. And if you want more couple challenge videos—”

You jump in, “Please don’t make us do more clay.”

Arthur chuckles. “Yeah, we’re officially banned from clay. But seriously, let us know what you want to see next.”

“Vote for mi-” you attempt to say before the video cuts off.

[note: I've never made a fic before, so sorry it's not the best!]

[meowzfordayz]

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Author’s Note: as w/ all headcanons, these are simply my opinions in this exact moment of writing, and are subject to change depending on the context/my mood! 😉

NSFW Alphabet — Himejima Gyomei

Himejima Gyomei x Reader

Word Count: ~2,800

CW: 18+NSFW, explicit language, Fem!Reader, mast!rbation, oral, size difference

MILESTONE 20.0

~faqs~

Aftercare? what they’re like after sex

Gyomei’s aftercare is very loving and very simple. You can generally expect a quick rubdown with a warm washcloth, a cool glass of water (tea if/when he has the energy), and a soft kiss to your forehead. He adores curling around you after you’ve fallen asleep, murmuring about how wonderful you (and the sex) was as he drifts off. If you don’t like being spooned, then he’s happy to wait until you get comfy, and then improvises a position that doesn’t crowd you, but is still suitable for aforementioned murmurings of sweet nothings.

Body Part? their favorite body part(s)

Gyomei absolutely adores your cheeks (not those ones 😆). How squishy they feel when you grin, how warm they feel after you orgasm, and how lewd they feel with his cum on them; he’d do anything to hear you giggle—pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger—and always goes the extra mile to ensure they’re hot to the touch after fucking you. ☺️

From listening to Gyomei’s heartbeat, hand slipped underneath his shirt to scratch lightly at his tiny patch of chest hair; to digging your fingernails into his sternum as you ride him, crescents indenting his skin, your movements gradually slowing, needy mewl barely spilling from your lips before he’s gripping your hips, forearms flexed and ready to bounce you on his cock. From gently patting his bum while he’s brushing his teeth, giggling when he raises an amused eyebrow; to gripping his ass, low whine caught in your throat as he fucks the air out of your lungs, trying to tell him T-too deep even as you guide his thrusts further and harder into your cunt, reasonable thoughts i.e. I can barely breathe replaced by cockdrunk whimpering i.e. G-gyomei, pleasepleasep-please! His chest and ass are both Netflix 🥰 and chill 😏 worthy.

Cum?

While cumming on your face is HOT (Gyomei loves the contrast of how slick and filthy his cum feels on your skin as he traces the outline of your smile), he often manages to get some in your eye(s) 😬, so he tends to opt for your stomach instead. He gets the same satisfaction of feeling his cum slip and squelch, without the guilt of imagining your red, irritated eye(s). That being said, you don’t even have to beg to get him to cum on your face; a breathy, “Please baby, cum on my face,” will do the trick every time.

Dirty Secret? shh

Wants to make you cry (during sex, of course). 🫢 Not from pain, but from the sheer ecstasy and overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly filled with and surrounded by him. A fragment of Gyomei always holds back while fucking you, because he’s well aware of his size, and sheathing even just half of himself in your pussy is enough to make him tear up. But to make you cry? To feel your tears wetting his thumbs as he caresses your cheeks? To hear your breathy moans of F-fuck and S-so much and G-gyomei, c-can feel you e-everywhere… What he would give to taste the salty sweetness of your love for his cock as he thrusts himself in till his groin is flush and hot against your pelvis.

Experience? their level of experience

Initially, Gyomei’s inexperienced—and somewhat timid about testing the waters—but he’s willing to dip his toe in, then his ankle, and then dive in deep for you. He considers experience to be less about how much he’s done or explored, and more about how well he knows you. So what if he’s never tried impact play or anal? He knows where to stroke to hear you gasp, where to nibble to hear you giggle, and when to hesitate to hear you whimper — surely that’s all the experience he needs? Albeit, he isn’t necessarily a natural, and definitely appreciates lots of praise and reassurance to guide him; sex is a journey, not a race. 🩶

Favorite Position?

Gyomei LOVES when you ride him. ☺️ It’s easier for you to set the pace, allows you to take as much or as little of him as you feel up to, and he’s got the forearms and biceps to bounce you for days should your thighs ever give out. Along with logistical ease, he revels in the moments when you tire, your tits smooshing into him as you collapse atop his sweaty chest, soft huffs and moans caressing his collarbones while he fucks into you. Your fingertips cling needily to his sides, strong arms cradling and rocking you — a tender embrace in stark contrast to the lewd squelch of your hole clenching greedy and swollen around him.

Goofy? their sense of humor

He isn’t the ~funniest guy during sex, but Gyomei isn’t exactly serious either. He’s passionate and fluid; focused more so on your pleasure and feeling close to you than anything else. When any fumbles, queefs, or farting occur, he’s sure to let out a good natured chuckle, and perhaps even a gentle teasing remark (usually toward bad smelling toots haha), but then he’s straight back into getting your toes to curl, your laughter trailing off in favor of gasping for breath.

Hair? pubes maintenance

Shaving isn’t the easiest task for him, but Gyomei understands a mouthful of hair isn’t usually desirable when going down on someone. 😅 Therefore, he trusts you with the soap and razor, inwardly praying that you don’t accidentally knick his balls throughout the process. 🙃

Intimacy? their degree of intimacy

To Gyomei, sex isn’t a chore, routine, or even an adventure; it’s the closest thing to heaven, a drop of water in a desert, as dear to him as a kiss on the forehead. His intimacy shines through, not in rose petals on the bed or candles flickering in a darkened, sultry bedroom, but in keeping the lights on so you can see him better. In telling you precisely how wonderful you feel. In urging you to vocalize your pleasure, your discomfort, your trust in him. To Gyomei, intimacy is a verb — a conscious act of bonding, losing, and finding oneself.

Jack Off? masturbation

Masturbation is often far from Gyomei’s mind; he’s more likely to enjoy mutual masturbation than touch himself alone. He doesn’t abstain out of fear or shame, and in fact experiences boners at a relatively normal rate i.e. in the morning, at random moments throughout the day, and at night if sleep eludes him — he simply doesn’t feel an aching need to relieve himself of physical lust, and prefers to allow it to subside naturally.

Kink? ~specific turn ons

Gyomei doesn’t explicitly nor consciously consider himself to have a size kink, but there is something thrilling about how ragged and breathless you sound with half of his cock sheathed in your pussy — let alone all of him. He’s fond of your fingernails, tiny crescent indents etched into his skin as he works himself into you, hips steady and patient, lest he accidentally hurt you from moving too quickly. And when you whimper lowly, words slow to surface, gaze shimmering with both pleasure and pain, “G-gyomei, you’re s-so big, f-fuck! S’t-too much!” it’s all he can do to refrain from nudging your legs further apart, anxious to watch his cock bully itself into your swollen, pulsating heat. Of course, he checks in to ensure he isn’t actually too much for you, reassurances honeyed and soft—“You’re doing so well for me, my love. Just a little more to go.”—despite the relentless push of his tip and blatant lie (there’s a lot more to go 😵‍💫). Once his hips are flush against your ass (a process that takes upward of five minutes, and plenty of lube), he presses a hot, greedy palm to your lower abdomen, searching for the telltale sign that he’s truly filled your aching hole to its brim, groaning quietly when he feels just how deeply he penetrates you… sooo he totally has a size kink.

Location? where they prefer to have sex

In bed. Specifically yours, his, or the bed you share (if you live together). It’s sturdy, familiar, and accommodates you both (Gyomei’s 7’2” aka ~218cm, so you’d need a sizeable car/shower/couch/etc for other locations to be anywhere near as convenient or comfortable as a bed).

Motivation? ~general turn ons

Hard work and knowing when to ask for help. On one hand, Gyomei’s strongly attracted to those who seek to earn what they’re given. This doesn’t necessarily mean someone who’s overly ambitious, or even someone who’s constantly productive — it’s more so an appreciation for the inherent gratitude and humbleness of those who don’t take anything for granted. It may sound silly, but simply hearing you talk about your day, your dreams, what you’ve accomplished and what you’re still working on, can get him going, “That sounds wonderful, darling. I’m proud of you!” <— as he not so subtly begins kissing along the back of your shoulders and neck. On the other hand, he’s also a giver and protector, and is more than willing to go down on you, make love to you, kiss you until you’re boneless and finally tired, “Let me help you, my heart. You can fall apart with me, I’m here for you.” <— as he coaxes another trembling orgasm from you, his hand slotted determinedly between your thighs, fingers curling filthy, delicious noises from your cunt, your back leaned cozy and safe into his chest, his legs caging your body in a warm, sensual haze. Getting to both reward your hard work, as well as support you through difficult, painful, sad, and/or slow times is certainly pleasurable for Gyomei, and not just sexually.

No? turn offs

Gyomei isn’t a huge fan of verbal degradation or physically rough sex. He finds the sensuality and overstimulating aspects of sex more than enough—Look at me, my love, look at me as I stretch out your pussy… hm, opening your gorgeous mouth for me? It’s too much? You’re so beautiful—without adding aggressive verbal/physical intensity. Besides, the girth and length of his cock more than make up for his disinclination toward faster and harsher thrusts — you’re already being split in two, regardless of how quickly it happens. 😉

Oral? giver or receiver

While primarily a giver—Gyomei’s never felt so vulnerable and weak and happy to die than when he’s suffocating between your thighs—there’s something special about watching you flick your tongue around the tip of his cock, his precum shiny on your lips as you smile at him. “Enjoying yourself?” he rasps, light fingers carding through your hair, following the rhythm of your licks. “Mhm,” you giggle fondly, blowing warm air along his shaft, “You’re so pretty.” He groans softly at your compliment, his cheeks pink as he tugs at your hair, beckoning you upward for a kiss, “C’mere darling, let me taste myself.”

Pace?

Slow and steady wins the race, and no micro tears is a bonus! 😂 If you beg, “Please Gyomei, please fuck me faster, please, please, I’m begging you,” then he miiight hurry by 0.00001% of his current pace 😃, but he’s just not in a rush — to the point of dissolving you into impatient, needy whines (and he lowkey lives for your whining 😌).

Quickie? a fan or not-a-fan

Sorry not sorry, but Gyomei’s too large for quickies to be realistic (unless you want to be in genuine pain later). If you’re fine with literally just the tip, then he can work something out, but otherwise? Nah. Not to mention, the art of the quickie tends to lack the slow drag and intimacy that he so deeply craves.

Risk? their risk tolerance

Gyomei’s risk tolerance… well… he’s got very little. 😆 He knows he’s more than capable of protecting you from any undesirable consequences, but he’d rather avoid having to shield your naked body from startled eyes in the first place. If, however, you initiate risky behavior (i.e. stroking his thigh in a calculating manner while dining out for dinner), then he’ll play along… usually ending with him slamming way more bills than necessary on the table, and then passionately ushering you out of the restaurant. 😏

Stamina?

As long as he doesn’t cum, Gyomei’s stamina is through the roof. BUT, the moment he cums, it’s over — don’t expect an immediate round two. He’s more than happy to help you continue cumming with his fingers or tongue, but intercourse itself is no longer on the table. Fortunately, his tells are pretty obvious—I’m going to cum soon is about as obvious as it gets—and he never minds being edged ~a lil if it means prolonging your pleasure and enjoyment.

Toys?

Gyomei’s fine with you owning toys, and loves perusing for new items and treats with you, but he prefers for you to use them only when he’s unavailable. He treasures the process of preparing, stretching, and warming your body for his cock with his own two hands, ten fingers, and one tongue, and introducing lifeless materials into the fray just doesn’t appeal to him. That being said, if you decide to spend the day with a vibrator in your underwear or a butt plug to expediate the evening’s agenda… he’s not going to complain. 😌

Unfair? how they feel about teasing/being teased

Gyomei doesn’t consider himself a tease, although his preferred pacing often makes it feel like he does, nor does he care much for being teased. If you want him, then you want him. If you don’t, then you don’t. He knows teasing isn’t actually a game, and he isn’t turned off or offended by it — it’s just a little confusing for him at times. 😅

Volume?

Soft groans and adoring filth at a volume ~just loud enough for you to process. Sometimes Gyomei’s voice will raise slightly, but never sharpen in tone, and only because you’re too cockdrunk to hear him otherwise, and he needs you to hear him. He needs you to hear how desperately and sweetly he desires you; needs you to hear how complete and gone you get him; the faint tremor in his voice telling you just how incredible and indulgent your pussy feels. A low groan buried in the softness of your shoulder, his cock sunk halfway into your heat, large hands gripping your waist with unbearable tenderness as he murmurs Gosh I missed this, missed you so much, so so much. You can’t tell if he’s talking to you or your cunt. Probably both.

Wild Card?

Gyomei’s senses are so fine tuned that he doesn’t exactly get the point of sense deprivation for himself, but he’ll blindfold you every so often (with your consent, of course) — an action that emphasizes and heightens the precision and intensity of how he makes love to you. You always wonder if he feels the same way as you do, goosebumps raising on your breasts as he slowly swirls his tongue around your nipple, or if he’s so accustomed to darkness and familiar with your movements that few things you do can surprise him. Regardless, he can certainly surprise you, a soft whimper floating between you as he begins gently sucking on the underside of your jaw, steady fingers lifting your head to grant him better access to your warm skin.

X-ray?

Gyomei is Big™. Approximately 10 inches when fully erect with a squishy, bulbous tip and balls proportionally large and heavy. They’re difficult to fit in your mouth; you’ve definitely tried, and nearly accidentally chomped ‘em due to laughing at the impossibility of the mission. His cock isn’t necessarily aesthetic (thanks to its size, it’s lowkey more monstrous than pretty 🥴), but it’s visually stunning (~stunning as in, Ohmyfuck how am I gonna fit that in my vagina?! 😭).

Yearning? sex drive

Gyomei’s sex drive is consistent. ☀️ He appreciates getting to have sex at least once a week, but doesn’t need more than twice to feel fulfilled. If you initiate, then he’ll rarely decline, albeit he may request to stick to foreplay and your orgasms if you initiate multiple days in a row (with great cock comes great responsibility; with such a big battery he needs ample time to properly recharge 🪫🔋😂).

Zzz?

Gyomei stays up quite a while after you’ve fallen asleep post coitus, usually reading (Braille)/listening to an audio book, or simply and literally staring at you. 👀 He’s certainly tired and always sated, but prefers easing into post nut clarity — more of a slow fade to ~reality versus a jolting switch from being Horny™ to Not Horny™. If you’re having trouble falling asleep, then he’s more than content to partake in pillowtalk, whether it be about how the sex was, what your plans are for the next day, or planning your future engagement and wedding (assuming you desire marriage). 💞

[stagefoureddiediaz]

the lack of physical intimacy of any kind between buck and tommy is certainly a choice let me tell you....

Hey Nonnie

Choices were made and I find them fascinating!

It would’ve been so easy to show intimacy in simple ways that would’ve been sweet and lovely and shown the relationship being in a good place - and I don’t even mean full on kissing - gentle caresses can do so much work in terms of showing intimacy or even a kiss to the forehead etc if it’s done well - the kind of gestures and physicality that show longevity and comfort and love! Hell the hand squeeze buck gave tommy in the cafe scene in you don’t know me is the perfect example - intimate and sweet and tender - and hopeful - without needing to kiss etc!

The thing I enjoyed most about the fact buck and tommy have gone back to covid social distancing rules is that it says so much more about the reality of their relationship - which we’ve been saying from the get go - that it’s all about sex - that there is no intimacy between them because they still - 6months ish later - don’t know one another beyond surface level because there isn’t anything to the relationship beyond awkward sexual innuendo and them having sex.

So to have them not be able to connect on a sexual level because of physical limitations and issues getting in the way (because shoulder injury first and Tommys hang ups about the boils later) they then had to try to connect on a non sexual level - and there was nothing there!

That was all so very intentional from a direction and script point of view - it gives so much away. that tommy clearly hasn’t, up to this point, seen or experienced wiki buck doing substack deep dives or dealt with a buck who spirals out when confronted with something like being cursed is really telling - because by all accounts they’re the kind of things you’d be seeing a bit of by this point.

We’re supposed to pick up on the fact they aren’t intimate in any way on a non physical level and I am excited to see how they make use of all of the things they’ve been showing and telling us as we hit the hurdle!

[sunflowersandsapphires]

An Unfortunate Coincidence

In All The World, Chapter 1.1

Series Masterlist         Next Chapter

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Frank Castle is just trying to focus on his stakeout and avoid thinking about his past. However, his plans are abandoned when he spots a familiar face approaching your apartment.

warnings: swearing, Frank and Matt being little shits, brief descriptions of Matt's labyrinth of internalized guilt, very short semi-smut scene (as always, MINORS DNI)

a/n: Ahhhh I was so excited to begin this new series that I accidentally wrote almost 7k for it (and it's not even done). Here is the first chapter that accidentally became a three-shot. I really hope you all like it! Please let me know if there's anything you wanna see in this verse!

w/c: 4k

“In all the world, there is no heart for me like yours. In all the world, there is no love for you like mine.” — Maya Angelou

Crouched on the damp gravel roof of some rundown apartment building, Frank tilted his head to stretch the muscles in his neck. After a few hours peering into his scope, it was starting to ache like hell. Roughly pinching the back of his neck between two fingers, he kneaded circles into it, attempting to alleviate the pain without changing his position. It wasn’t an optimal night for thwarting an armed robbery, given the shitty weather and lousy visibility, but he was determined to disband this particular troop once and for all. 

The cocky fuckers had been one step ahead of him for weeks and he’d finally found the next bank they planned to hit—at least, he hoped that would be the case. 

It wasn’t quite raining, but Manhattan was draped with a patchy fog and the condensation was enough to mist Frank’s face as he lay in wait. While the lack of a clear night would help conceal him and his guns, it also meant he had to get much closer to the site than he would have liked. More distance meant more time to pack up before he had cops on his ass. 

This particular location was especially irritating because the angle of his scope ran directly past your apartment. 

Seeing a warm yellow light in the window nearly left him a distracted, guilty mess. You were clearly home from work. Maybe cooking dinner? Or lounging on the couch he’d crashed on more than he wished to admit. He should probably send you a text to let you know he was still alive—but the thought of that made his body go rigid. 

Despite his lacking communication, and your profound exasperation for that specific trait of his, you never seemed to be out of patience for him. You were reliable, compassionate, and far too good for him to fuck up your life more than he already had. You were the only family he had left, and he was determined to keep a far enough distance to keep you safe.

Which is why his line of sight was currently positioned just past the edge of your apartment window—simultaneously shoving all his remorse deep down where it didn’t need to be acknowledged. Taking down a group of dangerous scumbags with a sniper rifle would be hard enough without being plagued with childhood memories and regret.

Normally, repression was a simple solution to this issue—they do say that practice makes perfect after all. However, mental gymnastics can only do so much to combat adrenaline. Hypervigilance had broadened his peripheral vision, his gaze sweeping the horizon automatically like a prowling animal, pupils blown wide as he absorbed every movement around him. Each flicker of a lamp bulb or ripple in the fog made his grip tighten, eyes flitting between the stimuli as if he was watching a ping pong ball bounce between players. Each motion only held his focus for a moment, his subconscious analyzing them for possible threats within a flash of a synapse before his attention returned to the task at hand.

Through the viscous haze draped over the city, another movement captured his interest. A dark form gliding over rooftops, diving over the beams of moonlight scattered across the vapor without a trace. Scoffing lightly, Frank rolled his eyes. Leave it to Red to show off without even knowing he had an audience. Fuckin' prick.

Chuckling to himself at the idea of firing a blank to give Altar Boy a scare, his laughter quickly faded as the Devil of Hell's Kitchen circled around, headed his way. Frank knew the guy had a freaky mechanism that allowed him to navigate without sight, but there was no way he'd picked up on Frank's presence from nearly a dozen blocks away, right? It wasn't likely that his bloodhound nose was THAT good at picking up the scent of gunpowder.

Skin crawling with unease, Frank's fingers traced over the worn handle of the blade tucked in his belt. After a few weeks being blue-balled by low lives, he wasn't necessarily opposed to a rooftop spat with the personification of Catholic Guilt. Fundamental differences aside, the kid could fight. And it wasn't like Frank had a line up of sparring partners these days. He was beginning to feel a bit rusty. 

To his dismay, the glorified-pajama-clad vigilante never reached him. Instead, he leapt onto the roof of a nearby building and began clambering down the fire escape.

With each of Red's steps, Frank's heart rate climbed, his ear drums ringing alongside his pulse. A shudder shot through him as he followed the other man's path, his body suddenly overtaken with malaise as he inched his scope towards the location he'd been trying so hard to ignore.

There was no way.

Red vaulted over a railing and down a story, his graceful trek slowing in pace.

There was no fuckin' way. It was an unfortunate coincidence. A stroke of Frank's continued bad luck, nothing more.

He was on your story now, close enough that Frank could see his haughty smirk, aimed in the direction of the glimmer Frank had successfully avoided all night.

“Keep movin', Red.” Frank muttered, muscles tensing with dread as he watched the masked lawyer hurdle over a balcony with a twist of his body, tactical shoes perching steadily on the edge of your cement outcropping. “No, no, no. Absolutely not, you asshole.”

Basking in the glow of your apartment window, Murdock broke into a roguish grin leaning backwards against the barrier, a few inches of synthetic stone between him and a twenty story fall. A shadow fluttered into Frank's vision, settling comfortably over Murdock's proud stance as a resident approached the terrace.

Sliding the window open with delicate fingers, your torso tilted out of the safety of your apartment, your beaming smile ever-present as Red posed for you. Strutting forward at a snail's pace, Frank could imagine the laugh that tumbled out of your mouth as you snatched him by the wrist and tugged him against the frame of the window. Time had seemingly slowed, Frank fixated on Matt's smug expression as he tipped his face towards yours.

As your lips met, Frank's vision flashed crimson, rage bubbling in his veins. Grinding his teeth furiously, Frank shoved himself out of his crouch, hefting his rifle onto an open canvas bag and stomping off.

“Oh, don't start with me.” You scolded gently as the lightbulb above your stove quivered uncertainly. Swiping a finger over the switch in a dramatic motion, the bulb sparked on the second try, sapping energy from the weak electrical current and illuminating your kitchenette with a soft warm light.

Flexing your sock-covered feet on the prehistoric checkerboard tile, you raised your arms above your head, arching your back into the stretch with a pleased groan. You'd done a lot of sitting today, hunched over stacks of papers scrambling to understand the new curriculum requirements sent out by your district in the humid closet-of-a-classroom you adored.

Pulling out your trusty, slightly crooked frying pan, you held it a few inches above the burner as you cranked the knob. Once the gas had lit properly, you positioned the pan just so and bustled about, readying the ingredients for a simple meal. Smacking the faucet handle, you tapped your foot to the beat of the song playing softly from your cheap speaker, letting the water run clear before rinsing a fistful of veggies in the feeble stream. Some of the produce was tossed straight into the hot oil, the rest you needed to chop first.

Thankfully, you were only making dinner for two, which meant preparation only took a few minutes. Once your vegetables were cooked and your noodles were boiling, you whipped up a simple sauce and brushed your hands together. Now came the tough part–waiting.

Matt's nightly routine typically made it difficult for you to spend the evenings together—not that it bothered you. Your evenings were typically spent shoving handfuls of chips into your mouth as you watched brainless TV or taking short naps to recover from the day. You were happy to continue those habits and feel truly rested when your boyfriend was finished being a hero for the day. This week was an odd one though, with late staff and board meetings pushing your normally-early supper back a few hours.

When you'd originally mentioned this change to Matt, his face had lit up, inspiring a smile of your own. After a minute of your pestering, he'd finally revealed his idea.

“What if I stay at yours this week?” His expression was soft, his attempt at a smug tone failing to conceal the jagged edge of his unvoiced worry that you'd decline, that he was being clingy—two insecurities you'd been steadily chipping away over the course of your eight month relationship.

Nearly tackling him with a hug, you had peppered his face with kisses, making him laugh. “Is that a yes?”

“That sounds perfect, Matty! I'll be dying to see you after sitting at conference tables all day.” You'd lamented, trailing a finger over his chest as it shook with a rumble of a chuckle.

“So you're saying I shouldn't practice my opening arguments for you? Detail the intricacies of mutual acquiescence and how it was displayed by the adverse parties?”

“Despite your attempts to confuse me with made up legal-sounding words,” Hooking your arms around Matt's neck as he laughed, you'd begun swaying slightly, rocking the two of you from side-to-side as you spoke. ”I'd happily listen to you talk about anything, love. You could describe the process of paint drying to me and I'd still enjoy our time together.“

Flushing slightly pink, Matt turned his face away from you with a scoff. ”Hmm, maybe I'll bring some of my old law textbooks by sometime and we can test that theory.“

Curling a finger around his chin, you gently pulled Matt's face back to yours so you could kiss him. “I mean it, Matthew. You can make anything interesting—it's one of your many gifts. And you've worked hard on this case! I'm happy to be your guinea pig.”

And you'd meant every word. Sitting here in front of your stove, you couldn't think of a better way to spend your evening than watching Matt in his element. As you stirred everything together in a pot over a low flame, your mind began to wander. Matt was wonderful, and attractive for many reasons, but the voice he used when addressing a courtroom? The thought of it alone brought heat to your cheeks. He didn't need to worry about keeping your attention, that was for sure.

The light rapping of a knuckle on your balcony window made you jump, your nose crinkling with slight embarrassment as you realized you were no longer alone—and Matt could probably tell where your mind was detouring from behind your fingerprint-smudged window. Scurrying to grant him entry, you couldn't help the excited smile on your face as you shoved the thick glass off of its sill.

Matt looked phenomenal, draped in black woven fabric that was just tight enough to accent his bulging muscles. Lines of off-white rope were coiled around his hands, trailing up his forearms like a thin pair of serpents. Though he was breathing heavily, he was smiling and didn't appear to be bleeding out or gravely injured.

“Am I allowed to come inside, or am I supposed to stand here so you can ogle me all night?” Matt asked gleefully, stretching his hips so his abs swelled against the long sleeve black tee he was wearing.

“Hmm, see I would let you in, but you'd make such a beautiful decoration..” You jested, grin only growing wider as the light from your apartment revealed Matt's blush. You loved watching his cheeks flush pink when you complimented him—his smug exterior faltering as he became slightly bashful. Deciding to cut his hammering heart some slack, you moved on from the praise. ”You're early, love.“

With a deep chuckle, Matt gave a one-armed shrug, striding towards you. ”I had a date.“

Scoffing out a laugh, you reached an arm out of your apartment, the cool outside air curling around your skin and raising the fine hair along it. As water vapor made contact with your skin, the tiniest drops of condensation beaded against your warm flesh. You reached for Matt, who was still a victim of the pitiful rain storm out on your terrace. Fingertips closing around his wrist, you pulled him towards you—other hand coming up to scratch at the base of his scalp when he was within range. “Matthew, we talked about this. You don't need to cut your deviling short to please me. I won't be upset if you—“

Cutting of your gentle chastising with a kiss, Matt knocked his forehead against yours, hands leaving the embrace to cradle your jaw. The dense fibers of the cords around his hands prickled against your skin, a much rougher feeling than the soft fabric of his mask against the bridge of your nose. His breath drifted over your lips as he spoke. “It's been slow. Promise.”

Nuzzling into his touch as his thumb traced over your cheek, your smile softly returned. “Ok, that's good. Hungry?”

As one of Matt's hands slid from your jaw toward your nape, the ropes rolled over your skin, scratching lightly against it. Fingers pushing into your flesh with a tad more heat, Matt smirked—his lips brushing over yours. “Starving.”

Matt nipped lightly at your chin and you stifled a giggle, kissing him sweetly before stepping back into your apartment. “I meant literally, Matt. C'mon, I need some food in me before you pin me down to mark me up.”

Towing Matt through your window with both hands clamped around one of his steady arms, you squealed as he lept over the threshold, gathering you into his arms in one fluid movement. Mashing his face into the side of yours, a low rumble sounded from the back of Matt's throat, as if he was purring. The tip of his nose was chilled, barely covered by the mask as he galavanted around in the unusually cool night air. He nestled you against his chest, burying his nose in your hairline just above your ear.

“I think we both know how much you want me to do just that, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to wait until after dinner?” His teasing voice was pitched down, sounding more like the Devil of Hell's Kitchen than Matt Murdock. A shudder crept down your spine, an exhale falling from your lips at the suggestion.

“Mmmm, I, uh, I thought I was. Now, I'm not so sure.” You murmured, warmth flooding between your thighs as Matt's teeth scraped the shell of your ear.

Chuckling darkly, Matt's hand splayed against the small of your back, his lips planting a kiss on your temple. “We'll have to see where the night takes us then. What did you make? It smells good.”

Matt broke his hold on you, taking a seat at your dinette without even acknowledging how aroused he'd just made you. His ability to trip your brain up with a few well-placed touches was dangerous, dammit.

Blowing out a slightly exasperated breath, you let your hand drift over Matt's shoulders before you lifted the pot from the stove. Using the pair of tongs you'd used to toss the vegetables, you plated two servings of the meal you'd thrown together. “Those peanut noodles you liked so much. I was craving them. But don't worry, I only gave you broccoli and edamame this time.” 

A few weeks ago, when you’d first found this recipe, Matt had enjoyed it—but only after you’d stopped him from choking down the mushrooms and bok choy mixed into the dish. The poor man was stifling gags as he bit into the vegetables, later explaining that they were on the list of “textures Matt can barely tolerate”. He had apologized profusely, not understanding why you weren’t upset with him for not enjoying the food without alterations. This time, you’d planned ahead. 

Clearly also thinking of your last attempt at this meal, Matt wrinkled his nose with a grimace. “Thank you. I'm sorry to be difficult.”

Rolling your eyes, you slid one of the bowls in front of him, using one finger to delicately lift the mask from the top half of his face. As you peeled the sweaty fabric off of his head, it revealed his mussed hair—the strands sticking out in little tufts after being mashed beneath the cotton for a few hours. You bit your lip to stifle a giggle, bringing your fingers up to smooth the mess. “You're not difficult, you're just human. And you have some impressive helmet-hair tonight.”

“Thank you, sweetheart. I heard this was how the kids were wearing it these days. Am I pulling it off?” He grinned at you, hands landing on your waist as you kicked a leg over his lap to straddle him.

“You look a bit like a newly-hatched chick in an incubator.” You snickered, humming appreciatively as he tightened his grip on you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Darn. I was hoping to change up my style to something more modern.” Matt quipped, instinctively tilting his head up as you scratched at his overgrown stubble with your nails.

“I never said it looked bad, handsome.” You explained, nose rubbing against his as you moved in for a kiss. “You look as gorgeous as always.”

With a greedy noise, Matt's hands dug into the soft flesh of your stomach. His lips were relaxed, happily letting you slide your tongue between them. His skin was warm with exertion and want, his touches grappling and desperate as he pulled you impossibly closer.

Dropping your arms to rest on his shoulders, you threaded a hand into his hair, tugging lightly at it as he kissed you. Matt moaned softly, his movements halting like a cat who'd been scruffed. You felt a rush of pride as Matt went lax against you. Tipping your weight into him, the force shoved his spine against the back of the chair, the wood creaking in protest.

It hadn't even been a week since you'd last seen him, last felt him–but it was as though he'd been away for years. Each time he held you against him, expression soft with affection, butterflies swarmed your stomach. To the rest of the city, he was a ruthlessly fearsome vigilante. But with you, he showed his underbelly. Trusting you enough to be soft, and to want softness in return. It made you giddy, being one of a chosen few to know the secret truth about Daredevil. And you were immensely fond of the man behind the mask. 

With a gasp, you began to lose your train of thought as the building heat in your core grew uncomfortable. Rocking your hips against Matt, he tensed his thigh as you ground down on it, letting you take what you needed from him. Moaning softly while the friction from Matt’s leg rubbed pleasantly against your clit, you circulated your hips, swinging them upward with the intention of using gravity to help you ride Matt’s statuesque thigh–but the world had other plans.

A pounding knock startled you out of your passionate stupor. Flying backwards in surprise, you collided with the solid wooden edge of your dining table. Grunting quietly at the impact, you swiveled your head towards the door when the banging continued, your heart pumping furiously as your concern built. Matt's hands slipped between you and the injurous furniture, shielding you from worsening the inevitable bruising the sideswipe had caused.

Though his head was cocked, his eyes blankly trailing along your torso, searching for any damage you'd done, he was wearing a resigned expression.

“Who—” You started to ask, but a brusque deep voice called for you through the door.

“I know you're in there.” The cause of the disturbance was no longer a stranger, but that didn't fix the sinking feeling threatening to drag you through the creaky floor.

”One second, Frank.“ You grimaced, swinging yourself off of Matt's lap to open the door.

As your weight lifted off of him, Matt chuckled humorlessly. “Took him long enough.”

Hands flying to your hips as you spun on your heel, you narrowed your eyes at Matt. “You KNEW?”

Shrugging noncommitally, Matt pinched one of the abandoned forks between his fingers, tugging the bowl of noodles closer to him and stabbing the utensil into it. “I had a feeling.”

Scoffing incredulously, you shook your head as he popped a forkful of tepid pasta into his mouth. “How can you look like you're enjoying yourself right now?”

Matt smirked at you. “It’s been a long time since I’ve had the luxury of bearing witness to dinner and a show.” Attacking his dinner ravenously, Matt didn't explain himself further.

Sighing loudly in response to Matt's unprecedented ambivalence, you jogged to the door--opening it to reveal your VERY pissed off cousin. He must've been camped out somewhere for a while, given the rivulets of water dripping off of his face and clothes. The droplets trailed over his scowl, getting tangled in his beard on the way to the ground.

”Hi Frank.“ You greeted politely, arm shooting out to grasp the door frame as he took a deliberate step past you, eyes locked onto Matt's frame in the middle of your apartment. You might've been smaller than both of them, but you weren't feeble. Your well-placed grip held strong against the burly ex-marine, his glare pivoting to bore into you as you stopped him from storming into the apartment.

”Move aside,“ Frank ground out your name, eyes dark with rage.

”And let you bludgeon someone to death in my apartment? I'll pass.“ You snarked, your own anger over Frank's absence and the overwhelming stench of testosterone now shrouding your space coating your words.

Matt scoffed from behind you, making a sound of protest but you held up a single finger on your free hand. ”Don't you dare.“

Matt closed his mouth, turning his attention back to his dinner with a pout.

Nostrils flaring, Frank's chest was still poking into your forearm as he shook his head. ”I can't believe this. Him? C'mon kid, you're smarter than that. You can't shack up with this asshole.“

”I can do whatever I damn well please, Castle. In case you've forgotten over your period of absence, I am an adult who is capable of making her own decisions.“

A muscle in Frank's cheek twitched but he said nothing. Jabbing a finger into his shoulder, you pulled a stern look straight from your bag of teacher tricks, staring him down. ”I will let you through this door to talk but if either of you start brawling in my home, you're out on the street, got it?“

Confidence wavering, Frank's posture relaxed ever so slightly, looking like an attack dog who had been given a hold command--frustrated and miffed, but no longer snarling. He nodded once, stepping back to allow you to retract your arm.

”Matthew?“ You asked over your shoulder, still blocking the doorway as you waited for both parties to agree.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. What was the question?“ You didn't need to crane your neck to see Matt's proud expression, feigning innocence as he silently challenged Frank from afar.

You and Frank both snorted in disbelief. Frank's lips opened but you beat him to the punch. ”Try again, Murdock.“

With a displeased grumble, Matt muttered his assent. ”Fine.”

Ha. Teacher voice: 1, unruly vigilantes: 0.

Nodding in approval, you finally released your rigid stance, standing on your tiptoes to peck Frank on his damp cheek. “C'mon in. I'll grab you a towel.”

Taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @gracethyomen @xxdrixx

[signanothername]

I’m wondering if you think Killer would try using Color’s soul as an experiment because of Color having like 6 souls stuck inside him and stuff and then the interest of Killers side of wanting to understand more of souls and their codes, maybe using Color as an experiment or something sometimes for funsies, idk, thought it’d be nice to talk about. (maybe with or without permission from Color)

Oooooh nice point

Tho it also raises the question, does Color have a soul left to begin with? Cause he was already on the verge of death before absorbing the 6 souls and basically getting thrown to the void cause of it, at this point he’s technically dead, it’s only the six souls that keep him truly “alive” in a sense, and it’s shown in how if he uses too much power that it’ll basically actually kill him, at least (i honestly don’t remember if his soul was ever truly talked about in canon, so if you guys know do let me know, i definitely need a bit of a refresher and deep dive into Othertale’s lore again)

But that’s a topic for another time that i’m gonna explore hopefully cause the contrast between a technically souless Color who is extremely emotional and feels very deeply and Killer with a soul that isn’t doing its supposed job and not being able to feel anything at all is really fun >:)

So we’re just gonna assume that Color has a soul of his own for the sake of this ask shhzhshhs (not that it would differ the answer I have much)

Ok so i feel like it really just depends on the stage Killer’s in and at which timeline we talking, like are we talking Killer still works under Nightmare or are we talking he was saved and is now with Color?

If he’s still under Nightmare, then i feel like Stage 2 Killer would try to get his hands on it without permission, and while i believe Killer kills anyone he wants the soul of to take their soul to do as he pleases with it, i feel like he’d make the exception for Color to keep him alive if he did get his hands on it, (I think of a stage 2 Killer who’s still under Nightmare as a bit possessive of Color in the sense that Color is an off limits personal matter in his life) which is arguably worse considering Color would have to feel and endure Killer poking at his soul, and we can talk about how dark that can get but i’ll spare you the details

While if we’re talking about stage 2 while he’s now living with Color, he’d still definitely try to get his hands on it, whether with or without Color’s permission is something I feel really depends on Killer, like i can see Killer sometimes trying to get his hands on it without Color’s permission, other times he’d simply ask, cause at that point Killer’s trying to learn how to be better, considering Killer himself had endured the invasive way Nightmare always touches his soul and influences it by his magic, so i think Color’s polite way of actually asking for permission from Killer for his soul would definitely rub off on him

which I’d like to believe Color would most likely refuse to give Killer his soul cause the thought of his soul being experimented on isn’t really comfortable, but I can see Color actually giving Killer the permission to study his soul by simple observation rather than actual experimentation

Stage 1 would absolutely refuse regardless of the timeline, even when curious, cause that’s his best friend y’know?

But regardless, I can see Killer and Color fight over this very reason of Killer’s curiosity for souls, but here’s a very interesting question, can Killer actually get his hands on Color’s soul without his permission? When Color is just a lot stronger than Killer in every aspect?

Killer will simply never win a fight again Color, Color might be hesitant to fight and is generally trying to be careful with his powers, but he still holds the power to crush Killer like he’s nothing, so if anything, Killer will only be able to get his hand on Color’s soul if he outsmarts him >:)

[thatfrailsoul]

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Painting: "Flora", Max Nonnenbruch, 1892

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Slow down for a moment. Allow your heart to guide you, to tell you if there is really a message here for you and behind which image it hides... And whatever the answer is, feel free to listen to it or to let go. Remembering that when you will be ready or will have the need, your true message will find its way to you.♡

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You should focus on... Not focusing. Not over analysing, checking, controlling things and situations in your life. Simply because you did a lot. You really did. Since the very first moment this situation presented you with a problem, challenge, you threw away everything else just to take care of this. You dived deeper and deeper in it, with your every decision, thought and emotion. With your every second, no matter if you were asleep or awake, if you were working on it or pretending to live the rest of your life.

You allowed it to consume you, from the very first moment categorising it as the most important and for this reason dangerous thing. And maybe it really is. So important to solve this puzzle, find a solution or an answer. But at the same time... Is it really only your responsibility?

Does it really depend only on you and what you will manage to do? Or is it more influenced by others, people or circumstances, sometimes even just the timing of the things..? Deep down you know the answer, but unfortunately it's simply not enough for you to make you slow down and wait.

And more you think about it, more you realize how many other things are actually determining how this will end - and more you become frustrated, more you feel the need to do something about it. Because you can control yourself, not others. And allowing them to decide your fate, the result of the situation that you are in... Is simply not a risk that you can or are willing to take.

But I'm afraid you will need to do it. To step aside and just allow this situation to evolve by itself. Because, even if you are to do something about it... There is nothing else that you didn't already try or did. And there is nothing in you left to dedicate to this situation to which you already gave every single drop of your energy and hard work.

There is a reason behind every situation that we are simply not able to shift and take care of on our own. There is a reason why it takes the work and awareness of so many others, or perhaps their ignorance and neutrality that we are not able to have. You did your best, you did everything you needed and could. And it's enough to come out of this. You only need to give this situation a moment to shift and follow the direction that you showed. You need to give it time, because finding so many solutions and ways, trying them all again and again... You simply didn't allow the situation, right people or opportunities to align, forcing them to constantly change running after you who never stops.

It's going to be okay. Even if it will not resolve in one moment or day. Even if it will not happen exactly like you pictured and prepared for. It will still be okay. Because you are not alone in this. You are not the only one who is doing your part, there are so many people and circumstances, decisions and coincidences that you simply can't grasp...

Allow yourself to step back. Acknowledge what you did, how much you did. And be proud of it for a moment, no matter how and what will happen in the end. And allow for once others, this world, to do their part. Without necessarily expecting the worse if you are not controlling every step and way of this moment in life.

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It is honourable, the way you found up until now the strength and resistance to keep going, to looking for a solution day after day, trying and putting in the work in hopes to make it through and see how it was all worth it. It makes you proud, as it should, for your courage and patience, of the simple but so important desire and motivation to create that life that you deserve. But in this proudness, in all those challenges and obstacles that you were able to overcome all by yourself again and again... Something changed in you. Something shifted, passing by unnoticed. Something that now is, from deep down, sabotaging and limiting you so much, without you realising why that same perseverance and hard work is not enough now.

You became so confident in yourself, in your own abilities. You learned so much about what you can do, how many solutions and ways you can find. With which mastery you can execute your own ideas and plans... So much that it became sacred, the only way of doing and handling things that makes you feel truly sure and in the right. The only one that doesn't put you at risk by trusting others, their advices and thoughts that only add sourness to the situations that of it already have enough.

And it was true, it is true: the reason you are here, the reason you came so far is exactly thanks to you and your courage to believe in your own decisions and goals, not listening to those that tried to pull you back...but now it's somehow different. Now those voices, those advices... Are not trying to stop you - they are actually giving you insight on what else might work. What you can do instead and make it. If only you stop protecting your plan, looking for other reasons that explain why it doesn't work.

You had a plan, and you did your very best to follow it. And it's something that for sure deserves respect... But you can work hard and still make mistakes. You can be sure of something, and still realise that perhaps it wasn't the right direction to take. You can be able to handle a lot on your own and thanks to your experience and creativity... And you still can recognise and follow the advice or the example of someone else. It doesn't matter if you make a mistake. What matters is the fact that you have enough courage to admit it the same way you have it now to ignore and keep pushing your initial plan.

So take a step back. Allow your plan to change and adapt. Without any shame or fear of trusting others. Because being indeed capable of so much and so confident in your own judgment and ideas doesn't exclude the possibility that the ones of others might be still good and valid too. And the falsity of some, doesn't invalidate the good intentions and genuine desire to help of others.

Breathe. Slow down. You are doing just fine. And it willl be still fine even if you change the way you walk on this path. Your goals, you desires and your needs will still be there and wait for you. And you willl make it. But only if you allow yourself to learn something new, to try something new. The same way you did back then when you discovered your own indipendence and strenght. With the understanding that not every word, opinion or different idea is to look down upon you or judge you... But to help you and show you how easier and still worthy it might be when you accept that help. When you let in the guidance of others who already did this path and want to warn you about the mistakes that they did.

_

_

[katzkinder]

Since Mukuro and Tsuna are still weirdly connected, Tsuna’s sometimes gotten glimpses of things he wasn’t ever supposed to, and vice versa on Mukuro’s end. He usually shoves Tsuna awake once he notices Tsuna’s accidentally plopped into one of his memories, but

If it’s one of Tsuna’s, he’ll let it play out without interruption. It’s never anything of note, anyhow, so expending energy to wake him would be pointless >liar mc liar face

Eventually this gets him more than he bargained for

There’s also a lot of stuff in Tsuna’s mind that, once he’s aware of it, it makes him go okay hold up

Because it’s not like he ever assumed that Tsuna was some happy go lucky idiot, but he also assumed he wasn’t actually thinking about much in that head of his he’s sure is more fluff than brains

Gokudera-kun is going to be disillusioned with me any day now. I’m grateful to him but I feel bad for somehow tricking him like this. I shouldn’t let him get too close but I don’t want to hurt him, either. What should I do? I’m sorry, Gokudera-kun. Please don’t hate me when you figure it out.

Yamamoto is such a nice person; he shouldn’t be stuck around someone like me. He’s like Kyoko-chan like that. Nice to everyone, even useless, no good me. I wouldn’t be surprised if she fell in love with him. Of course the two nicest people in the whole school would date, right? I’m so worried about him… I don’t know how to handle the way he lights up when he sees me. What should I do? Don’t try and hurt yourself again. Don’t get hurt for my sake, either. I’m sorry I’m so weak…

Hibari-san doesn’t treat me differently from anyone else. He’s super scary but he still bothers to treat me like I’m normal. I think if even he began to act like I wasn’t worth his time I would seriously just give up and call it quits. Things have gotten so messed up. I’m relying on a psychopath like that kicking my ass to reassure me I still mean something. If even someone who values strength above all else still has hope for me what choice do I have?

Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Reborn’s going to give up on me. Don’t go. Don’t go. Don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t go— It would be just like me to be so useless I beat the world’s greatest, huh?

The only words he ever found in relation to himself, and words that shake him to his core, are very simple ones

Please wait for me

One time, though, he managed to dive deep enough to find the source of Tsuna’s Dying Will, and he keeps going back despite knowing it’s a pointless, silly thing to do.

There are still the broken remnants of a cage around it. If he sits near it like this, he can almost pretend he isn’t in Vindicare. The cage is still red hot. He’ll burn his fingers if he tries to handle them. The flames reach out to him but don’t touch.

It is not a soft, warm home.

It is something which, if he allowed it to, would consume him right down to his marrow.

This is how Sawada Tsunayoshi has always survived

One day he sees that flame guttering, and he feels panic swell in his throat, because what could possibly, after all this time, be dimming that roaring inferno

There’s ice at the base now

Tsuna made a binding vow to destroy Vongola, that rotten, shambling corpse of a man’s ideals puppeteered by someone with a face a lot like his.

He knows better than anyone that when you make that kind of vow, if you don’t fulfill it… There are consequences.

The mafia has practically deified Vongola Primo’s will into its own separate entity.

The ring, rebuilt and no longer fit for any other, past or future, weighs cold on a young boy’s finger, demanding he make good on his promise

Mukuro wants to destroy the mafia. He’ll get his wish. He’ll make sure of it.

Sawada Tsunayoshi… Is too kind for that life, anyhow.

[mars-and-the-theoi]

Low energy Devotional Acts for when you don’t have a lot of energy (or time, or money, etc.) pt. 8

🌾Demeter🌾

- if able go on a walk and enjoy the outdoors doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy it could literally just be a walk around the block

- if you can’t go on a walk either sit outside for a bit or just open some windows for some fresh air

- play farming simulator (you think I’m joking but I’m not) or watch vids of ppl playing it

- watch documentaries or do a deep dive on farming and all the stuff that goes with it (maybe you’re wanting to know more about tractors, or farming techniques over the years, etc.)

- if able attend a farmer’s market or look into any that are in your area you don’t necessarily need to buy anything you could just go look around (I do that regularly)

- learn about the role of a farmer and what it’s like to be a farmer (I worked on a farm for a bit in high school and while I loved it I couldn’t do it as a living it takes a very special someone to do it) and look up ways you can support them

- learn about the native plants in your area

- watch foraging videos and learn about it (how to safely do it especially, if it’s something you wish to do at some point)

- if able support local farmers by buying their products (I know here in wi it’s not uncommon for farm stands to pop up this time of year and they sell all sorts of stuff for good prices! One in my town sells the best corn and for only $1 a piece which is perfect)

- point out cows, horses, sheep, goats, etc. while going by them in the car

- learn about homesteading and watch videos about it (though I will issue a heads up that some of these folks veer into uh….’crunchy’ beliefs so just be careful I guess)

- look up recipes you’re interested in trying, try to write your own recipe, or cook something using a family recipe/you’d own recipe if able

- enjoy a fruit, vegetable, or grain/bread product! Have some toast with jelly/jam! Have a salad! A fruit cup! The fruit/veggies can be frozen as well. It’s still that fruit/veggie.

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- listen to nature soundscapes

🦉Athena🦉

- learn your rights and by the gods I can’t stress this enough (if you rent learn your tenants rights, learn your workers rights, etc.)

- watch a war movie, show, or documentary (plugging Band of Brothers again because there’s some examples of excellent leadership and all that)

- read or listen to an audiobook about war (can be fiction or nonfiction- my personal favorite is Conversations With Major Dick Winters it’s great)

- listen to a devotional playlist for Her

- is there a weapon you’re interested in? Or maybe a style of combat? Or something else pertaining to combat? Read about it! Watch a video about it!

- if able pick up a handicraft of some sort: knitting, crocheting, sewing, etc.)

- if unable to do that watch tutorial videos for it (I can knit but can’t crochet to save my life but I love watching crocheting videos)

- read or listen to an audiobook about literally anything

- if you’re a student, and are able, do some studying

- or just watch documentaries or read articles and such about stuff that interests you

- if able play a strategy game if unable to do so look up videos for techniques for strategy games you like and pick up some new tricks for when you next play!

- if able do a puzzle (can be as simple or complex as you want)

- if able do something like a word search, sudoko, crossword, etc.