#Idk about you but I love exploring what their damage looks like

[djobiny]

CW: MILD GORE, BLOOD, WOUNDS

Psycho Killer

Qu'est-ce que c'est?

[lookingforhappy]

Hi! I just wanted to say I really like your blog and the ideas you have for TUA. I have a question if you don't mind? If you've read the comics (I just got to read You Look Like Death and....my head hurt alot after) is there anything you wished they had kept from the comics for the show or vice versa? Personally I wish they had kept Luther and Five being twins in the show. I get why they chose not to do so but come on.

Five doesn't get his dog and then he also doesn't get his biological brother? I love the Pub scene from season 2 and it would have fit really well for them to learn it (just my opinion)

Thank you and I hope you have a lovely day! :)

Thank you, I'm glad you enjoy my ideas!! I love asks lmao so no problem at all!

I have read the mainline comics and a few spin offs (the Diego & Vanya band AU one comes to mind??) but I'm a show main sadly. I like the comics as an informant to the show, so generally I prefer how the show depicted things.

I do want to briefly (edit: it was not brief... i am so sorry) talk about the Five DNA thing because that's one of the things I love in the show.

in the comics Five is genetically altered by the commission

this only works in the comics for me because every character is an asshole, Five especially (he literally prefaces this moment by bragging that he's fucked a lot of women). So for Five to have this excuse? to show horror at the very idea? that's a redeeming quality.

but in the show, they make every character likeable to an extent (recall that in the comics Allison rumours Luther into loving her), so this wouldn't have the same impact because it just makes Five less of his own person - removes the agency from his actions.

Five in the show is someone forced into a corner, and his actions in accepting and carrying out his job as an assassin, as well as his willingness to kill innocents and his own brother throughout s1 show how his experiences have made him desperate and ruthless in his pursuit of love and happiness.

it's a psychological exploration/study.

which to me, is infinitely more interesting. Five doesn't kill the board because his DNA dictates he will, he kills them because he chooses to. He is not cruel because his DNA dictates it, he is cruel because his experiences have made him that way.

and I think overall, this approach is adapted very nicely to fit the tone of the show, as all the same beats are hit. Five has been made into the Commission's killing machine against his will, and he is resentful of it,

but that doesn't mean he can undo the damage done, his psyche is forever attuned to this line of thinking no matter how much he hates it he doesn't know how to break the cycle of violence inflicted on him,

but because Five hasn't been genetically altered, he is fully responsible for his actions and he has to live with that.

the DNA altering in the show would feel like a cop out to me. and also the interesting aspect from the DNA altering is that he is essentially made into a psychopath (most famous serial killers are - Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer, etc.), which means removing his empathy.

because despite his dislike of the non-consenual genetic surgery, comics!five doesn't have empathy.

and show!Five is interesting because he has so much empathy, yet he remains a killer. he is never given the opportunity to use that for good.

without that empathy we wouldn't get scenes like this where he admits guilt,

and in all honesty, isn't it more interesting that the best and most prolific killer in the show possesses a large amount of empathy?

idk sorry I got sidetracked - I've seen a lot of people who say they prefer the DNA plot of the comics and I just feel like it's very contradictory to what a lot of people love about Five.

anyway, the only element of the DNA plotline that i'd want to see adapted further is the non-consenual surgery itself

largely because I love Five!whump and despite comics!Five claiming it was painless it's fairly obvious to see that it wasn't (and I love when this is expanded on in fics so much - no time, no time, dear brother o' mine is an amazing read because it deals with this)

but I also think it would do a good job at reinstating the commission as the villians they are rather than the weird, nebulous thing it currently sits as (Five would never entrust Herb or Dot to the Commission it's so ooc and it's canon??? Dot and Herb were both 100% in support of the commission's ethos, even if Herb was a bit shit at his job. Dot literally was in charge of the apocalypse and saw Five arrive & at no point thought that this was fucked actually).

plus, we already know they waited until Five was hopeless, alcoholic potentially passively suicidal, weak both physically and mentally, desperate. all likely to better control him.

what's to say they didn't also pick up him just in time to prevent his death? 45 years in a polluted wasteland can't be good on the body - and I don't about the general population, but most of the people I know in their 50s aren't fully grey. the stress was probably killing him all on its own.

they could have seen his death and gone back a few years/months/days to recruit him. but then that would mean they still have to fix whatever illness was killing him, and how do you do that? surgery.

perhaps that's how they recuit all of their agents. maybe that's how they get away with it not disturbing the timeline, take someone who was going to die anyway, and then force them into a debt of gratitude for saving their lives. idk.

I also think AJ was criminally underused. He's supposed to be the big bad of the commission, his character was originally adapted into the Handler but then they decided they wanted his design in the show or something.

I think his role in the comics is much more interesting, as a person who selected Five from a line up of assassins already in the commission and gave Five personal training, and assigned him to the JFK case,

I think he could have been adapted a lot better than he was, and like the surgery, he could have steered the commission back towards the villains they were always supposed to be - instead of The Handler (as amazing as Kate Walsh is to watch on screen I love her) we could have had AJ manipulating Five throughout s2.

as for Five & Luther, I don't mind them not being twins, because honestly their genetics are so different (Aidan is 20 something and he's probably going to stay at 5'5" while Tom is like 6'5", plus hair colour, skin tone, bone structure etc.) and we already know that they weren't planning on making them twins from the pilot script (Five is born a singleton to a polish teenager I believe).

I do think it would have been fun to repurpose this plotpoint for another pair. of the Umbrella's I actually think Five and Viktor pair quite well as they both have similar heights, hair colour, they both have that square jaw too. but I also think that this could have been an interesting way to give depth to the sparrows - Jayme and Alphonso could have been the twins.

Pennycrumb was... a let down? I don't think he should have been a big part of Five's character, but I also don't think he should have had 0 affect on it either.

otherwise??? honestly Hotel Oblivion was wayyy more interesting in the comics than in the show. I would have preferred something more in line with the comics but I think they were afraid of the classic horror elements and the classic superhero elements.

like the faceless bus boy guards

the hotel rooms, seemingly ordinary, being prison cells

the prisoners having enough freedom to move around the hotel and have relationships with each other but not enough to feel safe hanging around the hotel

i just.. i wish more of this had been incorporated into the show.

also.. art deco buildings.. my beloveds

this could have been the hotel Oblivion..

like ik they planned to go to japan to film s3 and that got fucked over by covid but like.. art deco is such a good aesthetic for a horror setting compared to the japanese style hotel we got (i've heard it called hotel orientalism as well so, theres that too).

if I had been in charge I would have had s3 focus on the mothers, develop their stories & why the umbrellas were given up for adoption & then linked this all to the 43 being the 16 instead. have the reveal be not that theyre dead but missing, non existant. because the children were taken by hargreeves to power Oblivion. if we somehow keep the kugelblitz then we use that as a distraction as to where and why all the sparrows keep going missing, and eventually the umbrella's numbers start to dwindle. until Oblivion is discovered and we find that every hotel room corresponds to a member of the 43 - maybe even have the brellies/sparrows numbers correspond to their door numbers somehow, or floor level.

idk I'm not a good writer but thats a bit of how i feel about the comics being adapted into the show..

sorry idk if i even answered your question? thank you again for the lovely ask!

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#28: The Big Reveal (1.04)

gif cred: @nat111love

The second TOWL was announced in 2022 my first thought was - I’m so excited to see Rick and Michonne together again 🤩. And my immediate second thought was - we’re finally going to see Michonne tell Rick about RJ. 🥹

Rick learning that he and Michonne had a baby just like he wanted on their last day together was atop my list of most anticipated moments in TOWL. And I couldn’t have been more glad that Danai was in charge of the episode where the highly anticipated RJ reveal occurs. The big reveal happened in a way that completely shocked me but it was extremely well done 👏🏽...

What I so respect about Danai writing this episode is that she made it clear they aren’t doing mawkish surface-level trauma. TOWL proposed Rick had chosen to die while still being alive, which would do some serious damage to his psyche. And Michonne has also gone through the fire these last seven or so years. So this episode was unafraid to really go there and explore what raw, authentic, heartbreaking trauma looks like no matter how painful it is to watch. 

It wasn’t until TOWL episode 3 that I realized the odds are very high that the big RJ reveal is going to come in the midst of Richonne conflict. Beforehand, I had pictured 1000 scenarios of how Michonne would tell Rick about RJ and in my head it was always going to be revealed in a moment where they’re in a good space because I’m so used to them rarely having internal conflict between them.

I believe Danai said one thing that might surprise viewers with TOWL is the Richonne conflict. And I remember hearing that and being like 'bring on the conflict' cuz it’ll be interesting to explore and I had the utmost confidence that Richonne would come out on top of any conflict. My one thing going into it was just as long as neither of them hit below the belt.

(and tbh I wasn’t worried that Michonne was going to say anything below the belt…but that Sergeant Major Grimes on the other hand. He had me a little worried lol. Before this episode aired, I said the one thing that would be most below the belt to me is if Rick at all suggests Michonne made a bad choice for coming to look for him, which…

So after that steamy eye contact moment with the PRB, Michonne walks over to the bookshelf and I love the way she can take control with just her presence alone. Like her just walking around examining what books this place has had me feeling like 'Rick, you’re in danger friend' because Michonne has something cooking right now. Idk what, but I knew she was getting ready to let it all out with how calm and composed she was being. 😅

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Again, you’d never guess that just moments before she had yanked the two of them out of a helicopter. And this calmness in itself sorta adds to her crazy lol.

Michonne spots the Beverly Cleary children's book 'Ramona the Pest' and smiles as she says, “This was one of my favs growing up. This little girl listening to her own rhythm, free-spirited, just like Judith.”

I love how she’s thinking about her daughter and knows her daughter will like the same book as her cuz that’s her mini-me, both following their own rhythm. Also, I just love how the Grimes family are readers. 🥰📚

gif cred: @nerd4music

Rick looks at her, quietly listening, and I feel like the man is still sorta reeling from everything that's going on. But also it has to hit him hearing a bit more about his daughter and who she’s become right now.

Plus, this made me think about how one of the last things Rick did with Judith was read her a book. 🥲

I also love that Rick gets to see Michonne’s love for Judith in this moment. Like you can tell Michonne never goes a day without thinking about her kids and she wants to be able to talk about them.

There’s also something a little hilarious about this to me, because Rick literally just tried to end things between them not too long ago, and Michonne’s casual energy now is really like...

She knows he didn’t mean that breakup mess. 👌🏽

So Michonne continues, “I loved her so much I thought I was meant to be a writer for a while there. Judith’s gonna love this” Spoken like a mother. 🥰 And I love how Michonne’s face always lights up when reflecting on her kids.

Then we get more insight into Michonne's life from before which I’m always here for when she says, “I thought I was a computer scientist myself once too. Then art history. Then creative writing again. Then I dropped out.” First off, yes versatile queen. 👏🏽😋 Second; I love knowing she studied creative writing. She’s just like me for real. 😊

I also always wonder if perhaps the dropping out might've been impacted by/coincided with the passing of her mother, just cuz I remember she mentioned Joycelyn being there for her when she lost her mom and it seems like Joycelyn was mostly around during college. Idk. 🤷🏽‍♀️

But Michonne styduing art history also makes perfect sense considering TWD hinted at her penchant for art a few different times.

Then Michonne reveals she really was going somewhere with all that college majors talk when she turns to Rick and says, “You’ve become a bit of a creative writer these days.” And then she stares him down in a way that makes it clear Rick is all the way in the dog house.

gif cred: @figmentof

This is another reason I so badly wanted Rick to have kept all the letters he wrote her because he actually was writing her some pretty beautiful poetic stuff in those. But it makes sense that Michonne would be upset over one of the only notes she got to see in the getaway boat.

gif cred: @figmentof

I’m glad Michonne now gets to address exactly how she felt about that whole getaway ploy Rick tried to pull after she hadn't verbally addressed it in ep 3. It’s her turn to talk and I’m here for it. 👌🏽

She says, “That note in the getaway boat?…Poetry.” And the delivery of that line is just classic. I love it. Like so many moments in episode 4, this line and delivery was stuck in my head for awhile. 😋

gif cred: @figmentof

And the way Rick is looking at her after she says that.🤭 Issa husband. A husband who knows he's in hot water too lol.

Another reason I love this ep so much is because they are so completely married. Like this really is scenes from a marriage and I love this exploration of Richonne specifically as husband and wife, even in a fight.

I know Rick was truly being sincere with the note on the getaway boat but still, that was not a move he should have ever thought was going to sit right with Michonne ‘I Don’t Leave People Behind’ Grimes.

It’s interesting that Michonne hones in on the writing aspect of Rick's getaway ploy. I feel like it’s because she’s thinking - did he really think that if he wrote something nice enough I could just leave him here knowing good and well he's alive and needs my help? No amount of poetic words would convince her to just leave Rick trapped here. She knows he knows better than that.

gif cred: @figmentof

Then, it's definitely giving married when Michonne grabs a journal and pen and says, “Oh here. Why don’t you give another masterpiece for your children?”

Now y’all, my jaw dropped when I realized we’re doing this right now. 😦

Like I thought I was gonna see the RJ reveal coming but in a great turn of events Michonne just gets right into it, talking as if Rick already knew he has multiple living children.

gif cred: @figmentof

This is of course news to him and the second she says 'children,' Rick looks like that’s the only word now ringing through his brain.

gif cred: @figmentof

I feel like he’s quickly putting it together since he could already sense that Michonne had something big to tell him about their immediate family in ep 2. 

gif cred: @figmentof

Michonne goes onto say, “Because I’m not going to be the one to tell them that I found their father and he sent me away and chose not to come home to them.”

I’m glad she said that because that was my thought last episode too. Like what was she supposed to tell the kids after finding out their dad is alive but won’t be coming home to them ever? 

gif cred: @figmentof

Rick proves that there really is one word going through his mind right now as he asks, “Children?”

gif cred: @figmentof

And then Michonne uncrosses her arms, sucks her teeth, and walks past him seemingly realizing this isn’t the way she wanted to do this reveal. But at this point, she couldn’t really put it off any longer with the way Rick stayed trying to get her to leave before she even gets the chance to tell him.

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Rick turns to her and says, “You said 'children.'” And I know he’s very eager and anxious to know what that’s about because he hasn’t heard he has more than one living child in over 8 years. 

gif cred: @likeafantasy

Michonne sighs and then she turns to look at her children’s father. And as she prepares to tell Rick this big news, I love how 'Mother Nature' wanted to get involved with a thunderous drum roll before she says it. Both real-life Mother Nature and fictional Mother Nature are Richonners. They know when Richonne is about to have a milestone and they want to be a part of it, what can I say. 😋

So after the thunder drumroll, Michonne finally tells Rick about RJ by saying, “His name is Rick.” 🥲

I love that that’s the way she says it. 😭 It immediately tells Rick that this boy is theirs and he’s his namesake.

And then they cut to Rick who quickly looks down taking in this shocking news as Michonne says, “We call him RJ.”

Seeing a shot of Rick while hearing Michonne say 'RJ' just felt surreal. We finally arrived at this point of Rick learning about RJ after wanting to see this for 6 years. 🙌🏽🥹

gif cred: @nat111love

Rick silently reacts and then looks up at Michonne when she tells him, “I was pregnant when the bridge happened.” I loved hearing that.😭 She finally got to tell the one person she most wanted to tell that she was pregnant.

And the one who got her pregnant is definitely letting this big news sink in as he remains quiet and appears to both have a million thoughts racing through his head while also feeling like time is standing still from this huge news.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then Michonne makes me want to cry when she emotionally says, “He’s…he’s almost 8.” 🥺

In this moment I just see the mom who loves and misses her son so much and is pained to think about how she’s missed a year of his life and how Rick has missed all 7 years of his life.

I feel like the way she says this, it's clear that she feels for her and Rick that they’re not with RJ right now and she feels for her baby boy who she knows misses her too.

gif cred: @nat111love

And then she looks at Rick awaiting his initial response to this lifechanging news.

There have always been two parts of the anticipation regarding the RJ reveal - How would Michonne tell him & how would Rick react. And well now we saw how Michonne told him about their son so it was time to see how Rick would respond. 😬

First, Rick responds by taking this breath which, again, breathing very much tells the story in this episode and has its own little arc. His breath here feels like this is, as I suspected, overwhelming for him on all fronts.

Like you can just see how bittersweet and more prominently how overwhelming/stressful this is to Rick. He already feels like a failure for losing the face of his first son and it’s almost like learning of his second son means the risk of another family member to let down and lose.

And he also now knows he wasn't able to be there for Michonne while she had their baby and that he's not just missed out on years of raising his daughter but his son too. It's a lot. 😓

gif cred: @nat111love

On top of that, learning of RJ means there's instantly another person now added to who Rick longs to protect. So after looking down seemingly struggling to compute all this, Rick looks up and shocks me completely when he just reaches out his hand and says, “You need to give me the PRB.”

gif cred: @nat111love

Y’all...🙃. When I tell you I yelled "What?!" at the exact same time Michonne did. Truly...

gif cred: @nat111love

Of all the ways I pictured Rick first responding to the RJ news I never once had Rick having no verbal acknowledgment of his son on my bingo card. This was wild and admittedly had me wanting to fight despite being able to empathize with why Rick might be responding like this. 

Michonne says, “What? I just told you you have a son. I don’t know who you are anymore!”  And girl, me neither. Like I’m so sorry I hope I don’t sound ridiculous but I don’t know who this man is.

It made me sad that this was his response cuz you only get one time to learn you have a baby and his first verbal response is still about needing the PRB so he can call the CRM and try to get Michonne home without him. Again...

Rick says, “I’m trying to keep you and them alive. You need to give it to me.” And one; I do like how quickly RJ becomes a part of who he’s trying to protect. At the same time I was like - Rick, you didn’t even know your son was included in this ‘them’ until seconds ago, don’t you want to address that a lot more??? (And he does, but he can't let himself go there just yet).

Two; you know this is not our Rick when he’s telling Michonne ‘you need to give it to me’ like Rick is more of the ‘I’m giving it to them, are you gonna let me?’ type and rarely ever just tells Michonne what she needs to do. But again he’s so convinced that this PRB is part of the solution to protecting his family that he’s become one-track-minded. He wants what’s best for his family and he thinks this is how to do it but it’s blinding him to how very hurtful he’s being to his wife right now. 

Rick saying he needs the PRB is his way of showing he's more convinced than ever that sending Michonne home and him staying behind is the way it has to be. We know from his note in the getaway boat that he already felt Judith needed her mom even if she never gets to have her dad in her life, and now knowing they have a little boy out there - Rick seems to be immediately deciding that their son needs their mom even if he never has his dad in his life as well.

So Rick is determined to do anything to get Michonne back to their kids. Immediately believing the three of them need each other in their lives more than they need him, and that his role must be to protect them from afar.

He's not yet able to acknowledge the absolute joy of having a son with the love of his life or be curious about what his little boy might be like and look like. After already losing the image of one son, to begin to imagine the image of another son - knowing how quickly it can all be taken away, knowing that even the images of the ones you love most can fade, is too raw of a pain.

And I also think that the good parts of the news that he has a son, are parts Rick doesn't even feel he deserves to enjoy since he feels he died a 'failure' at getting home to his girls and now his son too. 🥺

So instead keeping his family alive is the only thing Rick can let himself think about. And he's terrified that he could be the reason his wife, son, and daughter's lives are in jeopardy, hence him having a response rooted so deeply in fear.

As the conflict continues, Michonne wants to address more of Rick's audacity from episode 3 when she frustratedly says, “What did you say? ‘Everything we have is broken’? After saying that we were going to get away.” One; I like how she says 'what did you say?' and then proceeds to give a direct quote of what he said. Richonne stays remembering each other's every word. 😋

And also two; I love that she addresses this because this is how much whiplash this man is causing her. Rick went from promising her multiple times that they’d get away together to saying everything they had is broken. Crazy work. 

Michonne points at him and passionately says, “I don’t know what game you’re playing, Rick” and I love that she says that too because while Rick is the one man Michonne will defer to when necessary, she’s also never one to play with and so she’s like look these Crazy-Offs and reindeer games need to stop immediately. Especially cuz Rick was fast approaching his final strike imo.

Rick says, “You have no idea who we’re dealing with. You need to give it to me!” After experiencing several thwarted escape attempts it’s clear Rick is pretty convinced that escaping is impossible.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Honestly, I’m very here for this whole yelling Richonne moment. 👌🏽We haven’t really seen them like this before but even in this heated moment, it’s clear this fight is between two people who passionately love each other. And the acting is A1. 👏🏽🔥

Also, this is another way we know Rick and Michonne's relationship is special and different, because Lori stayed wanting Rick to fight back with her but he wouldn't. But with Michonne, what they have is worth the fight and the fighting to him. 

I love when Michonne claps and says, “Raising our kids. Believing you were alive and you were…with them!”

One; just hearing her say ‘our kids’ is great. Mom and dad for real. 🥰And I love that she gets to express how she feels in all the fullness of her emotion. It’s such a welcomed thing to see. 🙌🏽 This also shows how comfortable she is with Rick to be this vulnerably expressive. I always love the little hand movements she does too. She’s just cool in everything she does to me. 😋

And Danai also has a great yelling voice too. It’s rare to hear Michonne yell but I was here for it, even tho I of course don’t relish seeing Michonne upset and hurting. 

That ‘with them!’ part always hits me. Because underneath the anger I hear the hurt. This hurt over the fact that for years she was raising their kids, holding onto her belief in Rick and meanwhile the CRM got to have him when she would have given anything for Rick to be with her and their family. Yet another reason she and I hate the CRM. 

And when Rick hears this, he then breaks my entire heart when he earnestly says, “You think I didn’t want to be with you? I tri- I tried everything!” 😭💔 Andy killed that delivery. 👏🏽 The high-pitched breathiness of it - the sincerity is palpable.

And I love that he says “be with you.” He tried everything he could in the hopes of being with Michonne. When he says 'I tried everything,' I genuinely felt the weight of everything he’s tried and the toll it’s taken on him.

In this fight, Rick and Michonne both get some insight into how the other has spent the last eight years. Michonne has spent it raising their kids and believing he was alive. Rick has spent it wanting to be with Michonne and trying everything to get home to her and their family.

And then Michonne’s teary-eyed response after Rick says he tried everything. 😢 This episode did such a good job of conveying Richonne’s love - including the pain they feel over being without each other's love for so long.

Like they both have spent almost eight years longing to be with each other, starved of the love only the other can give them, living with a soulmate-sized hole in their heart. And now here they are - in the same building but not yet on the same page. 😔

They just have to talk some things through to fully find their center with each other again. (Well talk things through and make love some things through. 😌)

Rick says, “We need to go back.” And then because this stellar episode has a bit of everything we get some comedy as the thermostat says, “Your preferred temperature will be reached in one minute” and then Rick takes out all his frustration on the system as he yells, “Where is that thing!?” like he’s ready to box a temperature controller lol.

gif cred: @figmentof

And the way Michonne looks at him like she’s thinking this country boy is doing the most. 😂 I like how Rick knows he can’t be that on ten with Michonne so he only raises his voice to this level with the thermostat.

The temp controller really was a clever device to use within the episode and the temperature really will rise as Richonne dives further into this fight. 

I was very curious how the rest of this episode would play out now that Rick officially knows what we've longed for him to know which is that he and Michonne have a son together. And Danai continues to craft a fascinating exploration of Richonne as this conflict continues. 🥺👌🏽

[fluffyfantasticducky]

Mistakes and regrets

☆ Pairing: Loki x Reader

☆ Synopsis: Loki is a prisoner that sees his way out through pretending to date you, but when he finds true love he doesn't know how to deal with the guilt of making a very similar damage to the one that had been done to him when he was used for what originally were selfish reasons.

☆ Word Count: 10.5k, I think that's my longest fic yet, and written in the shortest time lapse, not sure what that says about my mental stability rn.

☆ Notes: As I proofread I noticed this could be interpreted as generational trauma, sort of... given I made Loki sort of mirror what Odin did to him. But I wasn't trying to be deep, I just felt like shit during the week and used this to cope. The fic might be cringy as a result, I am honestly not sure.

☆ Warnings: Depression and guilt are the focus points of this storyline. Loki starts is kinda toxic his behavior here isn't meant to be romanticized or intended to be extrapolated to real life, I just wanted to explore a narrative surrounding poor decisions and the dealing of its consequences. The reader is kinda a Mary Sue of sweetness but I just wanted to hammer in Loki feeling bad and guilty. I don't know if this is a trigger but I touch the vault scene of Loki and Odin and Odin being forgiven is also handled, Idk if that's trigger warning worthy but I know most of the fandom hates him.

“You’re not making it any for me brother.” Thor spoke through the glass.

“I want my freedom, brother.” Loki sighed, sitting down on the uncomfortable bench. “Don’t think of me as ungrateful, but as much as I appreciate not being executed, I can’t exactly call this a life.”

“Director Fury insisted, I’ve tried explaining to him that New York was a complicated situation. But he wants to be sure you are not a threat to Earth– uh, Midgard.”

“You've surely adapted well to living here” Loki rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.”

“Cooperate with me, I brother” Thor begged. “I want to help you, but I need you to help me first.”

“I’m not sure what I am expected to do from here” Loki huffed annoyed.

Thor sighed and gave his little brother a sympathetic look. Loki was frustrated, and he couldn’t blame him. He would be too if he got brainwashed, had all his anger, sense of betrayal and resentment exploited to torture an innocent planet, and still be the one to pay for said crimes… Sure he wouldn’t be all jokes and laughs.

“I’ve been negotiating a way to test your stability and get your freedom” Thor smiled hoping to cheer up his brother. And he made Loki look up. “It’d be a bit uncomfortable at first. But I know you can prove yourself. You’d have to wear cuffs or a while, but you’d be free to walk around with me and the others on trips to the city.”

“Hooray…” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Please brother, I’m trying, I just need you to be patient.” Thor spoke sadly as he made his way out. “I hate this as much as you do.”

“Do you?” Loki said. “As far as I know, you’re not the one in a crystal cell.”

“Alright, almost as much as you do.” Thor joked softly and Loki did chuckle weakly.

He agreed that Thor had been furious. But it all happened so fast.

Thor had managed to land a fatal blow on Thanos’ chest and soon Steve, Natasha, and Bruce had arrived to back him up and retrieve the Infinity gauntlet. They opened a portal to bring back Tony, Doctor Strange, and the Spider Ling… And surprisingly a weird group of space travelers.

When Thor realized they could travel to anywhere in the universe they opened a portal to rescue the Asgardian ship. There were a lot of severe wounds but surprisingly Thanos had failed, he underestimated the strength of Asgard, and most people could be saved.

“Thor!” Valkyrie screamed and rushed to hug the king.

“Valkyrie! You are alright! Thank goodness!” Thor smiled in relief and hugged his friend.

“Thor you have to come quick!” Valkyrie urged him. “It’s Loki!”

Thor’s heart sank, his heart couldn’t stand burying the only family member he had left. Thor had lost his parents… he had seen his whole planet die. But not his baby brother. Not Loki. Not again.

“Please… not now… Let’s treat the wounded ones first…” Thor spoke with a knot on his throat. “I want to focus on saving lives first.”

“Thor, you don’t get it! He’s alive!” Valkyrie scolded him. “But he’s in a critical state! We need to take him to a safe place to treat him.”

A tear streamed down the new king’s face, and he felt as if he had finally put down a enormous boulder he had been holding onto. He didn’t lose Loki.

“Take me to him!” Thor urged them.

Valkyrie took Thor to a damaged room in the ship that had been used as an improvised infirmary. In the corner laid a figure Thor knew too well being treated by healers.

“Brother!” Thor said. “Oh Gods… You’re alive…”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily thunder brain… ugh…!” Loki joked weakly as he groaned in pain. The healers begged him not to move as they tried stabilizing his condition. His neck had been nearly obliterated.

It was a miracle Loki hadn’t died and that the healers had managed to find him on time.

“We couldn’t abandon him” one of the healers spoke politely to her king. “After all, it was because of you and prince Loki that Lady Valkyrie managed to evacuate the survivors. We apologize for not finding you, my king.”

“It’s no problem at all” Thor laughed in an uncharacteristically quiet manner. He was breathless. “Thank you for saving my brother’s life.”

The lady healer let out a sheepish giggle and bowed. Loki rolled his eyes, earning a lecture from the healers that were still treating him. King or not, Thor still had that charm that seemed to make most people swoon.

The reunion was interrupted by a group of soldiers that broke in with a logo on their uniforms that made Thor’s blood boil when they pointed their weapons at Loki. SHEILD.

They picked up the stretcher where Loki was laying in and took him away to lock him up.

Apparently, the news travel fast, but SHIELD travels faster, and hearing Loki was alive was enough to mobilize and capture the injured God and lock him in a crystal prison cell in a SHIELD base. If Loki had a coin for every time that happened… he’d have two.

He couldn’t say Thor didn’t do anything about it. He could hear the thunders and enraged screams from his brother, demanding for an explanation and Loki’s immediate liberation.

“I demand my brother is released immediately!” Thor yelled.

“You should consider yourself grateful we’re allowing your witches to go and heal that world-level threat! He would be better off dead!”

“Don’t you dare speak of my brother like that! Me and all of my people would’ve died if it wasn’t for him!”

Loki wasn’t sure if he was amused or if he felt bad.

It did stroke his ego being called “Asgard’s hero” in the middle of the yelling. It shouldn’t have surprised him that Nick Fury was just as loud as Thor when angry. He couldn’t complain much. It made it much easier to hear what was going on, which was good, he was too weakened to use his magic to spy on them.

The healers tending to his neck sure seemed awkward overhearing the fight. It must have been uncomfortable to be doing your job in a high security cell. So, he tried entertaining the healers as he could. Although all he got was a lecture when his magic drained his energy, and they needed him awake to monitor him.

Soon he got better, he but wasn’t allowed to be out of his cell. It was a bit nostalgic, in some dark and twisted way. It even made him want to fix his old horned helmet, even if Thor would call him a cow for wearing it.

And when things couldn’t get worse… he met you.

“It’s lunch time” a voice said in a weirdly friendly tone before you head popped by the entrance as you balanced a tray of food on your head in an attempt to amuse Loki. He wondered if there were buffoons in Midgard, but you always tried to draw a laugh from him… Tried.

“Tough crowd, eh?”

Loki couldn’t not be baffled by the way you talked to him. Although he couldn’t decide if that was because you surely knew his reputation as Midgard’s terrorist or because you always talked in a friendly and goofy tone in a maximum-security prison in a super-secret spy agency. You also seemed to be awfully young to be here, but you couldn’t be much older than the girl Barton took as his protégée.

“What’s on the menu today?” Loki asked in a more formal tone.

“Why the hurry?” you asked, “don’t tell me you got somewhere else to be.”

“You think you are a lot funnier than you really are” Loki rolled his eyes. “And it’s not very nice to make fun of someone’s disgrace.”

“I hear you think I’m at least a little bit funny” you smiled as you kept balancing the tray of food on your head.

“Please don’t drop my food, I’d like to have at least something to eat” he rolled his eyes.

You tripped on your feet, and he saw the tray falling down, you caught it last second with your shins, and gave him a little sheepish grin.

“Alright, alright, I’m impressed” Loki groaned. “Can I eat now please? Or is having you torment me part of some attempt to break me?”

“Why are you so moody?” you asked. “More than usual, I mean.”

“I’m starving, and you humans eat way too little” Loki finally admitted. “But that is still better than nothing… Please.”

You stopped playing around and you looked at him as you got the tray into his cell.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were eating so little.” You admitted.

“I barely have energy to cast small illusions, which would serve to entertain myself.” Loki complained as he sat to eat and you sat by the table and looked at him, you didn’t seem afraid, curious at most. You watched him eat and took his dirty plates by the end.

You weirded him out.

You always did something along the same lines; you came to bring him food, teased him a little and then left when you were gone. Although this time you had asked more questions about him. And you seemed more pensive while he ate.

And later that day he got a surprise. Usually, he just saw you to deal with you while he ate. But today you returned with a brown paper bag on your hands and a backpack, you never carried personal objects with you.

“What now?” he groaned.

You said nothing but opened the door to pass him food and slid the bag inside. Loki opened his end and grabbed the bag, it was warm, and it had a strong smell inside, he reached and pulled out a weird soft cushion with a white cover.

“Bur…ger? What this?” he asked as he read the yellow letters.

“It’s food” you smiled. “Cafeteria is closed until dinner, so I thought bringing you something else might boost your mood.”

“This looks like junk” he snarled, making you laugh.

“It’s something like that.”

Loki looked inside the bag and looked at you.

“There’s no fork.”

“You eat it with your hands” you smiled and pretended to grab a burger and bite it. “Like a sandwich.”

“What’s a sandwich?” Loki asked, making you laugh again.

Loki tried to take a bit, imitating your gesture, but you stopped with a squeaky laugh.

“Unwrap it first!” you laughed. “The white thing paper is not edible.”

Usually Loki would’ve argued more. But he had been really hungry, so he agreed.

“The taste is agreeable enough.”

“Try the fries!” you said eagerly.

“These yellow sticks?” he asked pulling out one fry from the bag, and you giggle once again, he was learning you were quite easy to amuse.

“Yes, the yellow sticks, they’re potatoes with salt and soaked in hot oil to cook them” you smiled.

“That sounds unhealthy” he said, but he surely didn’t pass up the extra meal, and while he’d never admit it, but it was tasty.

“It is on the long run” you agreed. “But you don’t eat these every day. It’s more like… something you eat when you particularly crave it. Like a treat.”

“What’s on your bag?” Loki asked, a lot more agreeable now with a full stomach.

“Ah, you said you didn’t have much to do” you said and passed him bag. “It’s a portable DVD player and old movies.”

“I understood the word portable from that whole sentence” Loki said in an obvious tone.

He wasn’t new to technology, but unlike Earth, Asgard only used technology for practical purposes like travel and fighting. Never for entertainment.

“You can watch recorded over produced plays on the screen” you said adapting to what Loki might be familiar with. “Fury said you can’t have access to internet, so I thought since I don’t use this anymore it’d keep you entertained while Thor negotiates your freedom. And if you need something else, I could surely get it for you.”

Loki was trying to process it all while he followed your instructions to set up the devices you brought him. Now he’d finally give some use to the electricity plugins on his cell.

“Why are you so nice to me?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know” you shrugged. “You seem like you could use some kindness.”

“I’m a charity case?” Loki asked, not sure if he was thankful or offended.

“You wish. If I was charitable, I would’ve brought a fancy brand of fast food, and you’re a good junkyard to bring my old stuff” you snarled, making Loki laugh, for real this time.

Your cheeks flushed and were soon surrounded in a clod of silver mist. And when it disappeared you had vanished already.

Now that… Loki didn’t see coming. He had heard of your kind when he took control of some of SHIELD agents, humans with supernatural abilities. You were a mutant, and for the looks of it, one with teleportation powers. Now it made sense why someone seemingly so ordinary was in a place like this, flirting with a prisoner.

Interesting.

The next few days you kept bringing him food as usual, but two things had changed. One, the portions were bigger now, Loki now got to eat to a point where he was satisfied. Two, you joked around a lot less, in fact, you simply brought the food and stayed nearby in silence, and Loki had caught you staring at him with rosy cheeks.

So, you did fancy him… Truly interesting. And quite flattering too, he at least had to agree you were quite appealing to stare at.

“I watched one of your… Dee Bee Dees…” Loki started the conversation while he ate. “The one with the funny doctor…”

“That… doesn’t narrow it down much” you finally spoke. “Sarcastic asshole with a wounded leg?”

“He is sarcastic, but he treats patients with joy and laughter and goes against the rules. Like the pair of legs at the entrance” Loki specified. “It was a sweet story… I did feel bad for him when he lost his… you know.”

“Ah, yeah…” you said sadly.

For a few more days, the routine kept like that, you seemed a lot shyer than before and now Loki was the one pursuing your attention and with an arsenal of movies you had watched he always had a way to start conversation.

When he was sure he had properly understood your interest in him, he made his move.

While Loki wasn’t as flashy as Thor, he never had much trouble swooning anyone of his interest, with years of etiquette lessons and nourishing his mind with the most exquisite novels and books Asgard had to offer he knew how to charm anyone he desired.

And soon enough he was courting you. He recited for you the collection of the most exquisite verses he had memorized and casted his illusions of roses and butterflies for you to enjoy a romantic set up.

Soon Fury had two people demanding for his liberation. And since Loki had been in his best behavior Fury didn’t have an excuse to keep Loki locked up and while he had a tracker on his ankle and Asgardian magic bracelets capable of suppressing his magic.

You were there when they let Loki out and he made sure to hug you first. The more in love he seemed, the sooner he’d be truly free. You melted against his embrace and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug.

Loki felt a light tug on his chest. He couldn’t remember the last time someone out of his parents and Thor been so eager and happy to hug him.

“I had been dreaming of this…” you spoke softly. “And your hugs are even cozier than I imagined.”

That felt like a dagger to his heart. Why were you so sweet?

“Alright, Bambi, if you try something your little sweetheart will let us know right away, got it?” Tony warned him.

You wrapped your arms around Loki’s bicep pressing yourself against him.

“He’s gonna be perfect” you defended him. “And if I’m wrong you can lock me up as well for helping a criminal out.”

Second dagger. What kind of idiot were you trusting him so blindly? Could you really not see he just wanted his freedom?

Loki finally had a proper room, or something like that. He would be staying in the Avengers Compound when the Helicarrier landed… until then there was a room where he, Thor, and basically everyone stayed.

Your bed the one right above Loki’s. Loki sighed. Just a few more days. Loki laid down and saw you looking down at him, peeking from your bed with big sparkling eyes.

“Yes?” Loki said in his best sweet loving tone.

“S-Sorry…” you mumbled as your cheeks got red. “I’m just really happy you’re here.”

“Aww, young love…” Kate cooed.

“SHUT UP! I’M OLDER THAN YOU!” you screeched and threw a pillow right at her face, making Loki smiled softly.

“You’re both babies…” Yelena grinned.

“Shut up, you hag!” you and Kate argued.

“You’re all babies…” Bucky corrected.

“DON’T STICK YOUR NOSE, YOU FOSSIL!” the three of you argued.

“I’m… not gonna join this argument being 1,500 years old” Thor laughed and soon eased the mood in all laughter again.

Meanwhile Loki wouldn’t stop thinking what you said to him. “I’m happy you’re here.” Third stab… How could you be so happy and attached to him so easily and quickly?

The next few days he had resigned to adapt to train with you. He had been a warrior all his life, but being a soldier was too boring for him. It was a lot of training, gym workouts, more training, and meetings. He saw you nodding off during the latter. Where did you pull the energy to play and joke around with him when you went to bring food to him while he had been locked up?

You yawned and rested against his shoulder as you dozed off during lunch once. You were so warm and trusted him more than he deserved. You seemed awfully comfortable around him.

Every spare moment you had was dedicated to him, you were awfully cuddly and touchy. Loki wasn’t used to this in the slightest. At first playing along seemed impossible. But your kisses were so gentle and tender, more often than not he found his eyes fluttering close and his hands wrapping around your waist in a loving way. Even sharing a room with a lot of people seemed more fun if he got to study your reactions.

“Take that!” you screamed as you and Kate smacked each other with pillows, but when a stray pillow hit Natasha in the back of the head, it was war.

Everyone was throwing and hitting each other with pillows until someone pushed you to Loki’s arms who had stayed out of the war as just a bystander. No one seemed to be paying much attention to him, but now you were.

Your face was beet red, and you were blabbering apologies if you had hurt him, (which, you hadn’t). But Loki simply smiled and grabbed your sides and started squeezing them, causing you to squeal and burst out laughing.

Oh, of course you were ticklish, he should’ve known. Hel, you irradiated this aura that just screamed “tickle me!” And as the God of Mischief, he was drawn to ticklish little things such as yourself, to make sure he could exploit every ticklish little inch of your giggly body. It had always been a pretty harmless way to ease his need to cause mayhem.

Soon the entire room was in fits of laughter since Loki had unintentionally inspired a tickle war.

“H-Hohohohoney! Pleahahahahase!” you begged Loki, “thahahahahat tickles!”

“So? I hope it doesn’t bother you, my dear” Loki purred in your ear as his fingers traveled up and down your ribs, causing you to screech. “I think I’d like to play with my pretty little toy some more…”

“Nohohohoho! Please! Hehehehehe! S-Stop it!” you giggled until you had proofed to reappear at the top bunk bed, right by the time someone else had surrendered and called truce.

Thor. His stomach was sore from laughing and he needed a break. But the big Asgardian was confident enough to not be affected by being the one to surrender in such harmless play fight.

“I’m nostalgic” Thor laughed. “Reminds me of the sleep overs with Fandral, Volstagg, Hogun and Sif.”

“I wouldn’t know, I was never invited.” Loki said.

“WHAT?!” you gasped and threw a pillow at Thor’s head in Loki’s defense. “JERK! TO YOUR OWN BROTHER!”

“What do you mean?” Thor asked. “You rejected us every time.”

“What are you talking about? You never invited me, brother” Loki explained. “By the time I had found out, you were all locked in your chambers.”

“Sif and the guys always said you said no” Thor said. “That’s why I always made smaller sleepovers with just you and me. I thought you hated big groups.”

Loki never thought Thor had been clueless, if anything he thought it had been him who rejected him, it never occurred to him it was the rest that orchestrated Loki’s exclusion. It made sense in retrospect, they were more Thor’s friends, not Loki’s.

“I enjoy time to myself,” Loki agreed. “But I’ve never been against big events. I always thought it was you who didn’t want me near your friends…”

“Of course not, brother…”

“Don’t feel bad, Loki” Yelena said in a tone that eased the mood. “Nat used to have sleepover with friends and ban me from her room the whole night. But we’re sisters, adopted or not.”

“I said I was sorry, and I was 11 you resentful crybaby!” Natasha argued with a laugh.

You noticed that had hit a sensitive spot-on Loki and went to sit behind Loki to give him a hug from behind. And it was unexpectedly comforting, he sighed as you kissed his cheek. Growing more and more used to your doting affection, you were also rather good to read his mood by now.

It just made him feel more guilty, so he tried changing the subject.

“You poof around when tickled, hm?” Loki chuckled. “Noted.”

“Not just when I’m tickled, when I get worked up by almost anything…” you explained. “I can’t always control it.”

“I see… so, I get you all worked up…” Loki flirted, making you jolt and squeak with a red face. “Heh… I’m flattered.”

“What about you?” you asked when you calmed down, resting your chin on his shoulder. “Does something like that happen to you?”

“Mmm… my magic is also very tied to my feelings is mostly surges of magic when I’m pissed off.” Loki shrugged. “In a way, the source of my magic abilities come from my control of how I feel. Which is why Thor could never learn sorcery… he couldn’t ever keep calm and focus enough.”

It felt a bit of a cheap answer, his guilt told him you were always vulnerable with him. There was another thing…

Alright, now that no one was paying attention to you two.

“When I was little, I used to have a lot of nightmares, and my mother stayed with me and taught me this spell… it allows you to invite someone else to your dreams, to put it simply. She taught me that spell to help me with the bad dreams… And sometimes I still cast it involuntarily while I sleep. It’s… what’s the word? Automatic, at this point.”

“You haven’t used it since we met” you pointed out.

“There’s these preventing that” Loki wiggled the magic cuffs on his wrists, and you shrank sheepishly. “Maybe one day I’ll have you sleep visiting… who knows…”

You smiled too eagerly at the idea… it was painful to see the adoration in your eyes.

The next night you were chatting happily, you laid on the floor with your feet hanging on Loki’s bed. Surprisingly he didn’t mind too much, he found himself much more engaged on the conversation. He simply rested his hand on your shin, caressing it with his thumb.

But at some point during the chat his hand brushed by your ankle, something that should’ve caught his attention way sooner. A location tracker like his. He brushed his fingers along the band, and you jolted, quickly making a bad excuse before rushing out. A terrible liar dating the god of lies. How ironic.

“I didn’t know… I thought I was the only one with one of these…” Loki pointed to his tracker.

“All mutants and non-SHIELD affiliated have one” Tony explained with a yawn. “Basically, if you have superpowers, you have two options, be an agent or an avenger.”

“Or locked up” Loki concluded, and the way no one answered, confirming his suspicion.

“You’re gonna be joining us, right, brother?” Thor smiled.

“Do I have a choice?”

Loki chuckled, he had been thinking about this prior to this information, the fear of actually losing his brother when Thor was ready to leave him forever in Sakaar had been too great.

But what about you? You didn’t strike him the superhero style, a were a fragile and sensitive little thing, and he couldn’t picture you in the battlefield, but being a soldier was clearly taking a huge toll on you. You seemed perpetually exhausted living like this.

“Has my darling decided yet?” Loki asked, he didn’t plan on the pet names, but it felt weirdly natural as it rolled off his tongue. It felt right.

“Not before meeting you, we had tried, but I’d say with you two together… things have changed for the better.” Steve assured him. “It’s a relief though, you two would be great assets in the future, and the life at the compound is bit freer and more independent.”

For some reason, Loki smiled at the sound of that.

“It’s gonna be for the best” Bruce smiled. “Fury can be quite severe, and the soldier life isn’t for everyone…”

Loki couldn’t see you long term here, you’d be overworking yourself for a lifestyle too demanding and that you didn’t even like. It would be for the best to be an Avenger… at least that’d give you some more freedom.

By then, the mood had died down and everyone went to bed, turning off the lights way before you arrived. A few more minutes passed… and nothing. Loki considered going to find you when you opened the door, guiding your way with your phone’s flashlight. You had a messy damp ponytail, and baggy pajamas. You arrived and sat by Loki’s bed and immediately collapsed right beside him, invading his bed. He was ready to climb and use yours when you he felt a tug on his shirt.

“Let me stay with you…” you mumbled with your eyes closed, it seemed you still had some consciousness.

Loki nodded and laid down beside you, wrapping his arm over you, and tucking you under the bedsheets. He had to keep appearances. Yeah… Of course.

He studied you for a while. Your hair was soft, and it smelled like wild berries, shampoo he had started using as well because it smelled so nice. Your skin was soft and smooth, it was addictive to trace his fingers along your body. He traced circles along your side.

“Nooo… thahahat tickles…” you giggled and shifted in your half-asleep state, making something stir within Loki. “You can tickle me all you want in the morning, okay baby…?”

“Ohoho! Is that so?” Loki chuckled. “That’s dangerous thing to offer to the God of Mischief don’t you think?”

“’s okay… I trust you…” you yawned snuggling against his chest.

“Y-You do…?”

“You’d never do anything to hurt me…” you assured him, even with your brain fighting with all it’s might to not succumb to exhaustion.

Once his eyes adapted to the darkness, he stared at your face. Your features were gentle, with a pureness that only a heart that hadn’t been corrupted with cruelness and malice would have. It made him feel weak.

“I love you” you mumbled, kissing his lips before finally falling asleep with the most peaceful smile he had ever seen on anyone that was this close to him.

“I… I love you too…” he whispered and kissed the top of your head.

Now Loki genuinely wanted to stab himself through the chest, he deserved nothing less.

The next morning was the last time he’d be in the Helicarrier for a long time if he could help it. Both of you got the trackers removed and he was officially free. The magic cuffs were taken off of Loki and he immediately summoned a huge illusion that had a radius of a few kilometers as he stretched and showed off.

A huge double rainbow, oh how he had missed using his magic like this. He noticed your eyes sparkling in admiration.

Thor helped him unpack and you two were assigned neighbor bedrooms so the lovey dovey couple could stay close. You seemed ecstatic, you set your room and invited him to see it.

It was very much what he expected from you. Cozy and cute, just being inside made him want to lay down on your bed and sleep. And of course you had a pile of stuffed animals. He laid back on your bed, sinking in the mattress and fluffy covers.

Adorable.

“Honey bunny, I’m gonna go to the city alone today… don’t follow me” you warned him and proofed away before reappearing for a second. “And don’t snoop around my stuff! Love ya!”

And you disappeared in a gust of silvery white mist. Loki napped on your bed for a while, but… he couldn’t resist, he was curious by nature. He walked by your desk and saw the mirror of had a bunch of photos of him stuck to the board, he wasn’t smiling in any of them, and most had been taken him by surprise. Loki would’ve thought it weird, but the two of you were dating. And you only did what was normal for someone in a relationship. He smiled softly at how purely infatuated you were.

“Loki!” you called for him, so you had returned. He went to find you.

You had smiled so brightly as you jumped to his arms and showered his face in loving smooches.

“I missed you!” you smiled between kisses.

“You just left an hour or so…” he chuckled.

“It’s still too much time away from you!” you snuggled with him. “I missed this pretty face.”

“Heh…” he chuckled.

“I bought us something.” You smiled and handed him a golden bracelet with a round item on the middle. You kept the silver one. “It’s a distance touch bracelet.”

You touched your bracelet, and he felt his buzzing. Oh. He knew this couldn’t have been cheap. And you still didn’t hesitate to get it for him.

“Now you can feel me close, even if I vanish, or if we can’t be with each other.” You giggled.

His heart fluttered. How could there be someone so overly sweet? To him, of all people.

“Thank you…” he smiled.

Days passed and Loki’s sanity was evaporating in thin air. Guilt was eating him alive.

You were in truly, madly, and hopelessly in love with him. You wanted nothing but the best for him and you always showered him with love, affection and the sweetest kisses he had ever tasted. And worst of it all, he was falling in love with you. He deserved no love from you, but he had it… And it filled his heart with a warmth he didn’t deserve. Oh, you poor lovely thing, if you only knew how cruel his intentions had been to start your relationship.

He did what you wanted now, trying to make up for it. He didn’t want you to feel like you did all the job in a relationship anymore. Soon the photos were more couple y, of kisses and hugs, Loki took photos of you more as well. He invited you to read and nap with him.

He tickled you lots, and making you giggle in his arms as he held you close. He hugged you tight, trying to squeeze in all the love he had develop for the kind soul that had been nothing but sweet to him. In a wordless pray for your forgiveness.

He did everything that occurred to him would make you happy.

“No way! You’re ticklish?!” you gasped with an ear-to-ear grin.

“Terribly so, I can’t stand being ticked in between my ribs” he smiled as he rested his chin on your head, with you sitting on his lap. “My magic acts up on its own if I get overwhelmed, like you.”

“Really?” you giggled and caressed his sides. “Can I try?”

“For a kiss…” he smiled and puckered his lips for a smooch, which you complied with a huge grin. “I adore you… Fine, you got one minute to tickle my ribs.”

“Just one minute?” you whined with that lovely smile of yours.

“Thirty seconds?” he smiled.

“Eh?!” you whined. “One minute!”

“See how convincing I am?” he grinned.

“Oh, you—” you said and turned around to start poking and prodding his ribs, Loki couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Ack! Hehehehe!” he whined, you were too good at this, he was laughing his heart out. “S-Stohohohop! Hehehehe! I-It’s been a minute! Hahaha! S-Stop!”

“I’m not done with you, you pretty tease!” you giggled and kept prodding between his ribs.

“Oh yeheheah?!” he laughed and skittered his fingers along your belly.

You were squealing and giggling in the blink of an eye. But you didn’t stop tickling him.

“Hehehehe! Hic! G-Give up!” you giggled and squirmed as you prodded his sides.

“You give up! Hahahahaha!” he giggled squeezed your tummy and skittered his fingers along your armpits.

“Ack! Noohohohoho!” you whine and squeezed above his kneecaps, making him jump and ergo you fell off his lap and onto the couch.

“You’re in trouble…” he grinned and his fingers, poked, drilled, kneaded and scratch over every sensitive spot on your body, and it didn’t matter if you gave up. He didn’t stop until you were breathless.

Only then he stopped and held you in his arms.

“Remind me to not tickle you again, you’re sadistic” you smiled.

“You know it, darling…” he smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Did you have fun?”

“Mhm…” you smiled and leaned against him. “I love you.”

You were beyond ecstatic. You melted under all of his affection and more time he spent with you, the more he couldn’t deny his feelings for you.

He did it everything he could to make you happy. But nothing he did alleviated his guilt. He could only imagine the amount of heartache you would feel if you found out he had only used you to try looking better adjusted and be free, and that he had pretended to fall in love.

He couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. He was going insane. He walked around the compound like a ghost during the night. He did a stop to throw up in the toilet.

“You’re awake,” you surprised him despite your gentle tone. “Is something bothering you?”

“N-No, love. I just wasn’t feeling very tired.” He assured you. “Don’t worry. Go back to sleep.”

You placed your hands on his hips and leaned closer to him the way you did whenever you were going to kiss him. But you took a little sniff—probably smelling his bad breath—you stopped and smiled at him with kindness.

“Mmm… Insomnia, hm?” you smiled and pulled him to the kitchen. “I know just the cure.”

You heated up water and prepared him a tea with honey. The warmth of the drink ran through him as the sweet drink got rid of the bad taste, and he sighed a tear streaming down his face.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, cupping his face.

“I’ve done so many awful things… And…” he spoke softly. “I don’t know how to fix them… I don’t deserve any forgiveness…”

“Oh Loki…” you hugged him. “No one blames you… you didn’t mean it… I’ve seen your pretty heart, and you deserve all the love in the world… Gosh, if I could take all the pain, you’re feeling for myself, I would.”

“Please don’t say that…” he begged. He couldn’t handle anymore guilt, but he didn’t know how to tell you the truth.

You gently guided him to your bedroom and tucked him in your bed, wrapping your arms around him in a protective way.

“Forgive me love... Please forgive me…” he begged between mutters. “I take it all back… please… Please don’t hate me… please…”

“Shh…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair. “It’s all gonna be okay… I’m always gonna be here for you.”

               Between the warm tea, his exhaustion, the previous sleepless nights, your comfortable bed, and your loving touch… his body gave up on him and he fell asleep.

Everything was dark, and cold, covered in ice and a cruel wind. Loki had a good tolerance to cold, but he was freezing.

“Monster…” a voice echoed so loudly it made Loki’s ears ring. It was his own voice and it came from everywhere around him.

“Traitorous rat…”

“Murderer…”

“Beast…”

“Liar…”

“Frost giant…”

“Monster…”

“Manipulator…”

“Liar…”

“We finally had someone’s trust…”

“Of course, you just play around with others!”

Loki was completely surrounded by copies of himself, all at least twice his size, blue skin, Jotun attire, and eyes red like blood. True frost giants.

Loki simply took every blow and insult. He deserved them.

“Loki…?” a different voice called. “Is this what you meant by inviting someone to your dreams?”

No please… you couldn’t be here.

“Darling… wake up… please don’t be here…” Loki begged you. “Please…”

“I’m not leaving you here on your own…” you spoke and kneeled beside him.

Loki felt his body change, every muscle vanished leaving him as practically skin and bones. Small. Weak.

“Loki… what’s going on?! What’s happening to you?!”

Loki tried to shapeshift back to his natural look, but he had no control of his own body. At this point in life, he should be desensitized to nightmares where his magic didn’t obey him… but…

“Please… leave me here…” he spoke as he could, but he could barely hear himself.

“Don’t say that... What’s… what can I do for you?”

There was something about dreams, and especially Loki’s dreams, that always seemed to be extra dramatic. It must have been so confusing to be in one as an outsider.

Loki’s body changed again, he grew twice his usual size, and his body was blue and muscled. Exactly the body of a Jotun.

“STOP BEING SO GOOD TO ME! CAN’T YOU SEE I DON’T LOVE YOU?!”

“What?!”

What?! No! That wasn’t true…

Loki tried to take it back, but he was in autopilot. He was in the passenger seat of his own mind.

“I DON’T LOVE YOU! ARE YOU THAT GULLIBE TO THINK I’D FALL IN LOVE WITH A MORTAL?! I HAVE BEEN USING YOU!”

“No… no, you're not… You wouldn’t…”

“I JUST NEEDED A COVER, TO SEEM WELL ADJUSTED ENOUGH TO NOT BE A PRISONER! AND YOU WERE ANNOYING ENOUGH TO BARGE IN DEFENSE OF ME! I’V BEEN PLAYING WITH YOU FROM DAY ONE! DON’T YOU SEE YOU ARE JUST A TOY?! YOU’RE PATHETIC!”

The look on your face was heartbreaking. You looked crushed.

“I HAVE BEEN THINKING OF A WAY TO GET RID OF YOU! I CAN’T SLEEP AND I WANT TO THROW UP THINKING I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH YOU YET ANOTHER DAY!”

You curled up on the floor and Loki lifted you but your collar’s shirt.

“GET IT INSIDE YOUR HEAD! I COULD NEVER LOVE A MORTAL AS UNNERVING AS YOU!” Loki screamed at you before slamming you against the floor.

“NO!” Loki sat up with a gasp and his body drenched in sweat. He looked around and saw you curled up on the bed, your back facing him. “Love?! Thank goodness… I’m so— Love, w-what’s wrong…?”

You were stiff and you had a hand on the back of your head. Loki shifted and stretched a bit and saw your face. Your eyes were full of tears, yet he had never seen you with such a cold expression in your face.

“My love… and what’s wrong?” Loki placed a hand over your arm, and you slapped it.

“Why did you say that?” you asked him.

“I d-don’t know… I wasn’t… I didn’t…” Loki stuttered. “My dreams are like that…”

“No. I mean, what you said was really specific. Why…?”

“I don’t—I don’t know why I—”

“Tell me the truth, Loki.” You ordered him. “Did you, or did you not pretend to love me for your freedom?”

Loki stayed quiet. He didn’t have the courage to tell you the truth, but he didn’t have the heart to keep lying to you. With that confirmation tears started falling down your cheeks again.

“Y-Yes but I—that was before…”

“Get out…” you spoke.

“What? No, darling, listen… I…”

“I don’t want to hear you.”

“Please love… let me explain…” he tried holding you.

That made you snap. You started hitting him, being a human it was impossible for you to harm him, but not once in his life had he felt more pain.

“DON’T TOUCH ME! DON’T TALK TO ME!”

“Darling please…”

“I DON’T WANNA SEE YOU EVER AGAIN! GET OUT OF MY ROOM AND GET OUT OF MY LIFE!”

He had no strength to fight you, he was defenseless as you kicked him out of your room, slamming the door on his face.

There were a few faces popping out of their door to try seeing what had happened and that quickly retreated back to their rooms. Loki had no choice but to go inside of his own bedroom.

The next morning, he nearly tripped on his way out with a box by is door. It was full of books, quills, a coat, photos of you together. And… the silver bracelet that matched his own. It tore his heart to shreds. He didn’t feel as guilty anymore. But remorse and the memory of how brokenhearted you looked was even more sadistic. He heard you crying often from across the wall.

A few days later the others started giving him dirty looks. Knowing you and considering that this didn’t happen right away he assumed they had found out after heavy interrogation and now everyone knew he had used you. Even Thor seemed upset, not angry, but he had this… disappointment in his eyes.

“I hate dealing with moving companies” Tony sighed as they all sat for dinner. “But Fury wants to have our little Houdini enlisted by the end of the week. It’s a shame… The kiddos enjoyed being around each other.”

“Tell me about it” Clint sighed. “Kate is devastated.”

“Speaking of devastated…” Natasha said as she stood up, and Loki would’ve sworn she was shooting daggers at him with that glare. “See if I can be more convincing about eating something, otherwise Fury will have a corpse enlisting.”

You were moving out? To become a SHIELD agent? But you hated being a soldier. Had he hurt you so bad that you preferred that lifestyle and ruin your life forever… than being around him?

This all felt awfully familiar. Loki excused himself and went to his room and lock himself inside. He closed his eyes, and part of him wished that they’d never open again.

“Am I cursed?” Loki asked, choked up by the last bit of hope.

“No.” Odin responded the worst thing he could've said him. A curse would've been better.

Loki placed the casket down, weakly, it suddenly felt like a very... very heavy thing to carry. And the weight stayed there, right on his chest even after the casket had been placed back at the pedestal.

“Then what am I?” Loki asked softly, afraid of the answer.

“You're my son.” Odin answered, and Loki doubted his own magic since he couldn't detect dishonesty in his father's words.

Clearly that was a lie. So why didn’t his magic detect that? Loki felt rage spiral out of control like a boiling pot.

“What more than that?” Loki growled, still trying to keep his composure as he walked towards his father that was by the stairs at the other side of the corridor. “The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?”

Odin looked him in the eye. Unable to deny it any longer. It had been to many years with that secret. As Loki walked closer, Odin just started at him in silence as Loki reached the stairs.

“No.” Odin finally said. “In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the Temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring— abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son.”

That felt like a dagger piercing the young prince’s heart. Out of all the things he was insecure about, it turned out he WAS an outsider. Out of all the things he could’ve been, he HAD to be a Jotun, a monster. Out of all the Jotun’s in existence, he was the son of the worst of them all. And out of all the reasons he could’ve been adopted for, was because even his own biological family didn’t want him… and his adopted family never told him any of this.

“Laufey's son...?” Loki finally managed to gasp out, he was choking up on his own tears. “Why? You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child.” Odin said, sounding more exhausted by the second.

“No!” Loki begged his father, knowing that Odin was a strategic warrior. There was always a meaning behind his actions. “You took me for a purpose, what was it?”

But Odin didn’t answer. The physical toll of delaying his Odin sleep to prepare Thor to rule, preventing a war, the emotional toll of having to banish Thor and now… having his youngest child doubt his love for him because of his foolish decision of not telling him the truth earlier were overwhelming him.

The All-King saw with pain how the little child that once smiled at him with love when he picked him in his arms after the battle now saw him with fear, pain, and resentment.

“TELL ME!” Loki demanded loudly, no longer capable of remaining calm.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace... through you.” Odin confessed.

That was the final blow to Loki’s poor heart.

“What…?”

A tool. All he had been adopted for was as an instrument of peace between Asgard and a race that everyone saw as blood-thirsty monsters.

“But those plans no longer matter.” Odin clarified.

“So, I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up… here, until you might have use of me.” Loki inquired in pain.

“Why do you twist my words?” Odin asked softly.

“You could have told me what I was from the beginning.” Loki urged, desperate to makes sense of what easily was the worst day of his life. “Why didn't you?!”

“You are my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth.” Odin said softly, in a fruitless attempt to calm his poor child’s heart.

“Wh— B-Because I-I-I am the monster parents tell their children about at night?!” Loki asked, flooded by all the scary stories about the frost giants growing up. All those times he and Thor played heroes as kids fighting those monsters.

“Don't...” Odin begged as his strength slowly abandoned him.

But Loki couldn’t listen anymore. The grief was too great, and the feeling of betrayal didn’t allow him to trust Odin anymore.

“It all makes sense now! Why you favored Thor all these years.” Loki yelled as he started walking up the stairs to yell at Odin as the All-Father slowly lost his strength and started passing out on the stairs. “Because no matter how much you claim to “love” me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the Throne of Asgard!”

Odin kept trying until his last second of consciousness to beg his son for help, forgiveness… anything. But he had been too weakened to dedicate his young boy some kind of love or reassurance as he fell prey to the Odin sleep, he had delaying for so long.

Now Loki encountered a similar dilemma. He had been stupid, dishonest, and selfish to someone who offered him nothing but unconditional love. He betrayed your trust and there was no way now that Loki could prove that despite his original intentions his love wasn’t any less real.

He laid down on his bed, with his arm draped dramatically over his eyes.

“Troubled, my son?” a voice spoke making Loki sit up.

“Father” Loki smiled softly. “I ruined it. I had the most beautiful love in my life… and I was stupid and lost it because of my own selfishness.”

“That sounds familiar” Odin chuckled. “You truly are my son, after all.”

“You had always been will always be my father…” Loki said the words he had denied for several years. “I never understand your reasons. Cruel as they were…”

“Not holding back against your old father, hm?” Odin laughed.

“Sorry…” Loki smiled softly.

“My original reasons were foolish, selfish, and even cruel as you rightfully… but I always hoped to do what would be best for the 9 Realms” he spoke. “But that didn’t mean the love I had for you wasn’t any less real. You are my son, regardless of the kind of blood that coursed through your veins.”

Loki smiled softly; it was weird. He knew Odin would have never say all that. But now, after growing up so much, he understood it wasn’t because he didn’t feel it, he had always been too proud and formal, too much of a king. And while imperfect, it was still his father.

“That’s why you never caught me lying when I called you my son or said that I loved you.” Odin spoke. “In my heart, you’ve always been my son.”

“I know, father” Loki smiled. “I’m sorry it took me so long to understand it.”

“I’m sorry I never told you before… I feared you wouldn’t take it well…”

“Me? I would never” Loki joked softly.

“We always loved you as our own” a female voice added making Loki turned around.

“Mother.” Loki spoke breathless. “I know… I know… I knew, I was just too scared I could’ve been wrong, and you didn’t…”

“You were too much of a charming kid not to love you” Frigga said compassionately. “Your little human surely thinks so too.”

Ah… that… Loki wasn’t so sure.

“I ruined it, I deserve nothing but the hatred and disgust I’ve earned from my darling.” Loki huffed out. “I manipulated, lied, and destroyed the trust of my love.”

“Dear, there’s nothing final in these matters…” Frigga smiled softly. “If that loved blossomed once, you may rescue it and nourish it again. But first… you need to apologize.”

“I don’t think I’m wanted anywhere near hearing range.” Loki explained.

“Do you think the love between your mother, and I always had a perfect relationship?” Odin smiled.

“Your father was too temperamental for that” Frigga intervened with a smile and both parents looked at each other with love. “But when you truly love someone and you make a mistake, you swallow your pride and make up for your wrongdoings.”

Loki smiled softly, he remembered it well. When Odin’s temper got the best of him because of the stress of being a king, Odin made sure to make up for Frigga know how truly sorry he was, and Frigga who already knew her husband’s temper was an expert on not letting her affect her, knowing it was never personal. She had truly been blessed with infinite patience given she dealt with three men with bad tempers and yet her kindness and loving nature knew no end. It was not rare to see Odin gifting Frigga fancy gifts and spend long hours apologizing and dedicating the day to her. It wasn’t the perfect arrangement, but no relationship was.

Loki chuckled softly.

“Thanks…” he smiled and both parents tended a hand to him with a smile. “I know what I have to do.”

Ready to say goodbye, Loki placed his hands on top of Odin and Frigga’s, and with that, the figure of his parents faded under a green light as Loki’s palms stopped glowing. Loki let out a little laugh as he wiped his tears.

His illusions had never been so benevolent towards himself, they were either torturous or for a fake sense of gloating and dissociation. But your compassion had changed him forever. He could use them for closure and to guide him with the stuff he knew but needed to hear. And… you deserved that at least.

He got up and went outside and went to a trip. It took him around an hour to get to the city and a couple more hours to get his several stops get several gifts. A lovely white bouquet of flowers, a box of your favorite chocolates, a necklace with a cute silver heart shaped locket and got it printed with a small photo, a copy of a photo he had carried from one of your first “dates” you got where you were giving him a small kiss in the cheek and cupped the other one, a symbol of your shared love.

On his way back, Loki held the original photo close to his chest and sighed. He prayed this would work as he was on his way to see you. He knocked on your door and hid his gifts behind himself, not even remembering he could’ve concealed them with his magic from how nervous he was.

His chest tightened as you opened the door, your eyes and nose were red, and your cheeks were stained with tears. Oh Norns… He had hurt you really bad.

“Love… Please… let me explain” Loki spoke softly.

“What do you need to explain, Loki?” you asked and sniffled, practically murdering him when you called him Loki instead of one of your lovely cheesy pet names. “That I was just a toy for you to play with and pretend that you loved me, so you’d be a free man? I got that quite clearly.”

You were ready to slam the door on his face, but he reached his leg to stop you. He nearly dropped one of your gifts. You looked at him confused, eying him up and down before sighing in defeat, opening the door he walked inside of your little room. He saw the little night table covered with used tissues and the bed’s decorative cushions were all over the place. It broke his heart.

“What do you want, Loki?” you asked tiredly as you sat on the bed, placing a cushion on your lap and against your chest.

“My darling, I was the biggest, most cruel and inconsiderate imbecile of all 9 Realms” he said, kneeling before you as he handed you the bouquet of flowers. You gently placed the flowers on your lap, still looking at him.

“It is true, that I was looking to just find a relationship to pretend I had adapted to living on earth” he spoke. “It was a selfish, shallow, and dishonest reason to make you mine… But I did it. It was heartless and there’s no excuse or reason for you to forgive that. But I beg of you to stay here… never speak to me again if you need, but don’t settle to a life of misery just to avoid me. I will happily accept being locked up in a dungeon for a hundred years, so you don’t see the likes of me again…”

He handed you the chocolate, and your gaze softened for a second as you saw the chocolate, he remembered which ones you liked the most. You opened your mouth to speak, but a gentle squeeze to your hands let you know Loki still wanted to speak.

He had caused all of this for not telling you the truth, and now he wanted to fully bare his soul to you now.

“You offered me boundless kindness, patience despite my flaws, understanding to my pain and sins of the past, laughter like I hadn’t enjoyed before, you fed with the most delicious and warm foods I had ever eaten, you showed me the concept of dates and you bared me completely vulnerable to your touch and heart and you bared yourself completely to me without fear of me…” Loki continued, as tears streamed down his face, drowning in regret. “And all I did was play with you and betray the trust your selfless heart gave me without asking for anything in return.”

He placed his forehead on your knees and sobbed, completely ashamed of what he had done to you. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he felt like he’d die without you. And he’ deserve it.

“I don’t care” you finally spoke, and he looked up, he saw the tears streaming down your face. “You’re the God of Mischief and Lies, there are countless stories of how you lied and manipulated to get away with anything you wanted… I should’ve expected I’d be just that.”

“No— No, darling!” Loki held your hands and pressed his lips against your knuckles. “No, my sweet, you— I was selfish. I wanted a cover up, yes, but what I found was love, I found the butterflies in my stomach you always speak of. I found the warm of your hands lingering on my skin after our dates. I found myself awake during the night sighing over those lovely eyes I’ve now so cruelly filled with tears…” Loki spoke softly.

You were shaking in your place as you did your best not to cry and interrupt him. He brushed his finger along your cheek as in appreciation of your effort.

“None of what you heard that night was true in my heart…” he assured you “I never felt so disgusted I wanted to vomit; it was guilt that was killing me from the inside… knowing I was hurting such a beautiful flower.”

He handed you the heart locket and you opened it, seeing the photo made you sob as silently as you could.

“I was selfish and a liar. I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me and want nothing to do with me again. But please know that my heart beats for and because of you only.” He spoke. “I fell hopelessly and irredeemably in love with you. I swear that on my life.”

You looked at him and smiled, as you wrapped your arms around his neck and sobbed now freely and unrestrained. Time seemed to stop for Loki as he hugged you back, taking in your scent and caressing you. Tears fell down his face and he held you, afraid you’d disappear if he let go of you.

You forgave him. He didn’t think he’d ever be so lucky to find a kind soul that would forgive even his worst mistake. But he found it, you were kind enough to do so. Your wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug and Loki was able to let all the pain and guilt go… He couldn’t undo his mistakes, but he could be better, and he wanted to be his best self for you.

“Thank you… Norns, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry…” he repeated over and over between whispers and tears as he held you tight.

You sat up straight and cupped his face and laughed softly as you still cried happy tears.

“You’re gonna have to buy me a new box of tissues, you booger” you joked softly with a sniffle, and pressed your forehead to his and grabbed a tissue to blow your nose.

“I’ll give you the entire world if you so desire, my love” he spoke with a gentle smile. “Just say the word.”

“I don’t need the world” you smiled and kissed his cheek. “I have everything I need right here.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” he chuckled softly as he grabbed a tissue to wipe his tears and blow his nose. “I’m a disaster and somehow I still found the most precious little dove all for myself.”

You held him tightly in a hug… in silence for a few minutes before you spoke again.

“Did you think I was annoying when we first met?” you asked with a stern look on your face. “I want the truth.”

“Truthfully… you were a nightmare…” Loki admitted in a soft playful tone.

“HEY!” you whined and dug your fingers into the crevices of his ribs making him burst out laughing. “I said honest, not mean!”

“Ehehehe! Lohohohohove, let me finish!” he giggled, letting you have this, it was the least he could do. “P-Please, s-stohohohop that! Not there!”

You smiled and went to tickle his belly. Oh, you had really not liked that.

“Plehehehehehease, dahahaharling! I surrender!” he laughed and did his best to not squirm.

“Fine… what is it?” you asked, as you sat sideways on his lap, already happily cuddling with him.

Thank whatever superior force that was out there… Oh, you’re a wonderful blessing.

“You’re a nightmare turned into a dream” he clarified and he didn’t even bother fighting the urge to squeeze you tightly.

“You have 3 seconds to explain how that’s a compliment o I’ll tickle you until you puncture a lung.”

“Ihihi— I mean like, when you start having a bad dream… but it turns around as the most wonderful of dreams, those that you still think about after waking up.” Loki said, and as those words he was sure he had fried his brain because he didn’t make any sense.

But that was enough for you.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” You grumbled.

“C’mon… don’t be mad at me for being foolish and wrong” he smiled as he squeezed you tight. “Surely you thought I was insufferable at first as well, we’re so different after all.”

You smiled and shook your head.

“I love my pretty prince” you smiled and picked a tissue yourself to clean your face. “Flaws, differences, and all.”

“Do you, now?” he grinned cheekily. “I sure am a lucky one to be called yours.”

“A Loki one” you giggled, and Loki made a scowl of disgust. “Sorry! I thought it too late when I said it and— hehehe!”

“Oh, that was awful— C’mere… you!”

“W-What?! NO! NOHOHOHOHO! LOHOHOHOKI, STOP IHIHIHIT!”

As he made you laugh and held you against him, he couldn’t doubt how fortunate he was to be so undoubtedly yours.

| MASTERPOST |

[boimann]

What about medic x heavy really does it for you? Is it their individual characters? Their symbiosis during gameplay? The way they look together? No hate, just curious.

Sorry if this is a repeat ask

hi no problem I jump at any opportunity to gush about heavymedic :D

i think it's a mix of a few things, a lot of the stuff you suggested are it actually!

I do love them both on their own, they are very easily my favorite characters. I also think their personalities are very compatible, they are opposite in a way (medic being the more hyper one who can't shut up and heavy being the seemingly calmer quiet one) but they also have a lot in common they are both insane, violence loving incredibly intelligent men. and the fact that this compatibility carries over to their gameplay is just *chef's kiss* ya know?

on the battlefield heavy is this devastating force ready to gun down anything that moves and has a massive health pool but he is the slowest class in the game which can leave him extremely vulnerable to pick classes, while medic on the other hand is fast but kind of easy to kill, he has low health and can't output much damage and he also has a huge target on his back being the team's only healer. but together they complement each other perfectly!! medic can watch heavy's back and heal him and heavy can protect medic by shielding him from incoming damage and gun down anyone who gets too close. also uber charges are the equivalent of in game gay sex to me

and yes I am a sucker for big man x even bigger man, you said it best they look good together, I can't deny that a big part of why I love this pairing is because I'm extremely gay for both of them, I'm a simple man ok?

but also I feel like there are a lot of ways to interpret their dynamic that I love, I see a lot of people saying that heavymedic is boring but I think that's because a lot of the fandom is stuck only seeing them as being a soft old married couple (which is super valid I love this interpretation of them too) but there are a ton more!! they can be a brutal couple of manics, they can be a mad scientist and his favorite experiment, they can be an freak of a man x "oh shit my freak of a man is doing things!" etc... there is a lot of untapped potential that i'd like people to explore more

and finally I love that their whole relationship revolves around trust, heavy trusted medic to literally mess around with his heart in meat the medic, and trusted medic enough to jump in front of him while they were being charged by a bunch of enemy soldiers so medic could test out the machine he stabbed into his heart that had litterally blown up his previous one, and in the last comic medic trusted an extremely injured heavy to get up and finish cheavy after medic had distracted the him, Chevy was filled with australium and hated him enough to kill him once before and medic only had a pen to defend himself

idk I just that's beautiful

[howlsofbloodhounds]

might be a controversial/unpopular opinion but i headcanon that any classic variant of sans has some sort of superiority complex going on. maybe not exactly that, but they're some flavor of self-righteous, i guess?

OKAY LISTEN. i'm not saying sans is a bad guy or anything (i love him very much i swear). canon sans is written really well in the sense that he's intentionally very vague and mysterious so we can speculate a lot on his past and intentions throughout the story. idk, maybe my reading is completely off but sans appears to me as a lovable asshole, especially to someone who is a child (frisk). he likes playing around with frisk - yeah it's harmless but still his advice tends to be vague, especially when it comes to battle tips lmao. just imagine in-universe how terrible his advice comes off to a child.

and like, the restaurant scene. sans is intentionally acting all blithe about letting a child die on his watch, under a promise - like i know it's supposed to be a funny off-hand comment to the player, but in-universe again he addresses this to a child. it's just- lmao this guy has some problems for sure.

i think being self-righteous is just tied to his role as a judge as well. he's always 'right' in his judgement, because that's what he is. i think it's just interesting to explore that particular aspect of sans' personality, that he acts in what he thinks is right, and he's always right, isn't he? maybe that's why i tend to enjoy undertale stories where sans somewhat assumes the role of the antagonist - it creates some fantastic dynamic with people around him who it seems like he never really connects well.

~ crowshipping anon

Crow!! Yayy!!

And I honestly kinda vibe with this interpretation honestly. I haven’t completely finished playing all the Undertale games myself (curse my lack of motivation 😭), but I watched a few playthroughs here and there, and it seems like something that could make sense.

Especially when he’s given such an important position like a being a Judge, his opinions and judgements are likely taken seriously by Asgore.

And the thing is, you can also make an argument for this with our most popular classic variants; the Murder Time Trio. Murder justifies what he does as being better that he does it instead of the human, justifies it with that he will eventually stop the human.

Really, he may even argue that his current actions don’t really even go against his job as the Judge; he has judged that the human must be stopped, and he has to do it because he’s the only one who can. I’ve even seen some ideas going around that maybe he views himself as the Angel from the Prophecy, having judged that the Underground will be free by death.

Horror is the entire reason his Underground started eating humans, and he is also the reason that the Core is damaged beyond repair. He didn’t want to sacrifice himself for the Underground, and he survived the event that took his eye, yet he still judged that Undyne and Alphys had to pay for their betrayal—and in doing so he decided that the rest of the Underground would be doomed to starvation or eating people.

He decided to trick Horror Papyrus into eating human meat even though Papyrus very clearly did not want to, and Horror doesn’t seem all too guilty about it—even as Papyrus goes out of his way to prevent Horror from eating humans at his own request.

I’ve even seen around by bigger Horror/Horrortale fans than me that Horror’s reasons for starving himself may not even be entirely selfless—such as for a moral reason or wanting others to have more food than him. But rather because he views it as beneath him and he won’t go “that low.” How canon that is, im not sure, but it’s interesting.

Then meanwhile there’s Killer. He sneers at Swap and threatens to kill him if he ever attempts to compare himself to Killer again, he holds the beliefs and mindsets of his human that were taught to him very closely and looks down on anyone who views things differently with contempt—especially if they attempt to “force” him to view things differently.

Things like mercy or kindness or hesitation are seen as weakness and things to take advantage of in his mind. Even himself is not free from this nihilistic, fatalistic, violence and apathetic driven worldview—-looking down on himself in Stage 1.

He will go out of his way to prove himself and his views right, even if that means doing exactly what Chara did and coercing/provoking someone into killing, attacking, hurting, etc, either themselves, others, or even him.

This is exactly what he was supposed to be, and it’s pointless to try and change or hope for anything more than what he or anyone else deserves. He probably finds Murder’s attempts to justify his genocides absolutely ridiculous. And Horror to be absolutely hypocritical. (Which is why Color’s specific way of approaching Stage 2, wanting to show him a better life—something new—rather than trying to change or fix him, worked so well.)

[ganondoodle]

I honestly find it impressive how totk managed to fuck up so bad as a sequel. But truth be told, good gameplay aside, botw already was a whole lot of nothing as far as story and lore were concerned. I just feel like amnesiac Link going out into the world to save some voice is not a good premise, even though botw Zelda has an interesting personality. Idk, I guess botw felt like an experiment that was supposed to pay off in totk, but totk being a disappointment makes botw kind of feel like a waste of time as well

yes and no to that (in my opinion .. just gonna add that to be sure)

what hooked me in botw was less the story that was told and more what was implied, bc it seemed to imply so much, there was so much design that felt intentional- like an introduction to a world with subtle hints towards much much more that would be perfect to dive deeply into in an expansion or second part- just like you said

i personally am a sucker for big environments with enviromental storytelling more than direct dialog in your face- it might be a small detail to some but for me the choice of music, or how little and broken there was really spoke to me (in part bc i am very noise sensitive, id gladly spent hours in botws hyrule field, but id want to get out of twilight princesses hyrule field bc it would get unbearable to me after a while)

but mainly .. it was the world, botw made me feel like no other game has before, it felt so real to me, that this is a world with deep history, most of which unknown, so much mystery and things that existed with no explicit explanation (like man do i love botws dragons ...... and i will not forgive what totk did to them lore wise)-- like with the ancient shiekah especially, they were, or seemed, so drenched in lore you can only guess but yet it felt so intentional, or how calamtiy ganon was this strange being like a force of nature and the gerudo having had no king in so long it was basically forgotten it was ever a thing?? so much to speculate and think about, so much you could do with all those things; you probably didnt aim to get this kind of talk from me but when i talk i talk unfortunately, and botw is my second favorite zelda game (grinding my teeth to dust trying to ignore what totk did to its lore)

if you look at just whats told to you, botw isnt that special either (though at least coherent in itself lol) but its the world and design and mystery that got to me, that i care about so much, care that got almost utterly destroyed by totk bc it made me realize that there .. might have been no intention behind anything, it didnt mean anything actually

its a thing that hurts me so much to know, to think about, that totk cannot be separated from botw, they cheapen each other, people think its just botw+extra, when imo its more like .. botw again but worse, or them saying that botw was jsut a tech demo to the grand game that is totk (i couldnt disagree more to that wtf, totk is more of a tech demo for ultrahand tbh)

i cant even decide whats worse to me, the fact that botw isnt gonna get that deep lore dive in a second part that got me so excited like i never was before after the first trailer, that everything i cared about in it isnt gonna have a follow up ever, the knowledge that there might be no intention and no meaning behind anything in their games, that the next games might be like that too, that its inseperable from totk in the worst way, or that they only damage each other, botw functions better on its own than totk does, but together it worsens both

(i basically just said what you said in long form .. sorry- though i do feel more positively about the amnesia thing in botw, theres tragedy and emotional weight in it and helps immensely to let you and link explore the world like for the first time- plus its a drawback to an otherwise pretty overpowered piece of tech/magic- unlike some other things in a certain other game)

[soracities]

Hey! It has been on my mind lately and i just wanna ask..idk if it would make sense but i just noticed that nowadays ppl cant separate the authors and their books (ex. when author wrote a story about cheating and ppl starts bashing the author for romanticizing cheating and even to a point of cancelling the author for not setting a good/healthy example of a relationship) any thoughts about it?

I have many, many thoughts on this, so this may get a little unwieldy but I'll try to corall it together as best I can.

But honestly, I think sometimes being unable to separate the author from the work (which is interesting to me to see because some people are definitely not "separating" anything even though they think they are; they just erase the author entirely as an active agent, isolate the work, and call it "objectivity") has a lot to do with some people being unable to separate the things they read from themselves.

I'm absolutely not saying it's right, but it's an impulse I do understand. If you read a book and love it, if it transforms your life, or defines a particular period of your life, and then you find out that the author has said or done something awful--where does that leave you? Someone awful made something beautiful, something you loved: and now that this point of communion exists between you and someone whose views you'd never agree with, what does that mean for who you are? That this came from the mind of a person capable of something awful and spoke to your mind--does that mean you're like them? Could be like them?

Those are very uncomfortable questions and I think if you have a tendency to look at art or literature this way, you will inevitable fall into the mindset where only "Good" stories can be accepted because there's no distinction between where the story ends and you begin. As I said, I can see where it comes from but I also find it profoundly troubling because i think one of the worst things you can do to literature is approach it with the expectation of moral validation--this idea that everything you consume, everything you like and engage with is some fundamental insight into your very character as opposed to just a means of looking at or questioning something for its own sake is not just narrow-minded but dangerous.

Art isn't obliged to be anything--not moral, not even beautiful. And while I expend very little (and I mean very little) energy engaging with or even looking at internet / twitter discourse for obvious reasons, I do find it interesting that people (online anyway) will make the entire axis of their critique on something hinge on the fact that its bad representation or justifying / romanticizing something less than ideal, proceeding to treat art as some sort of conduit for moral guidance when it absolutely isn't. And they will also hold that this critique comes from a necessarily good and just place (positive representation, and I don't know, maybe in their minds it does) while at the same time setting themselves apart from radical conservatives who do the exact same thing, only they're doing it from the other side.

To make it abundantly clear, I'm absolutely not saying you should tolerate bigots decrying that books about the Holocaust, race, homophobia, or lgbt experiences should be banned--what I am saying, is that people who protest that a book like Maus or Persepolis is going to "corrupt children", and people who think a book exploring the emotional landscape of a deeply flawed character, who just happens to be from a traditionally marginalised group or is written by someone who is, is bad representation and therefore damaging to that community as a whole are arguments that stem from the exact same place: it's a fundamental inability, or outright refusal, to accept the interiority and alterity of other people, and the inherent validity of the experiences that follow. It's the same maniacal, consumptive, belief that there can be one view and one view only: the correct view, which is your view--your thoughts, your feelings.

There is also dangerous element of control in this. Someone with racist views does not want their child to hear anti-racist views because as far as they are concerned, this child is not a being with agency, but a direct extension of them and their legacy. That this child may disagree is a profound rupture and a threat to the cohesion of this person's entire worldview. Nothing exists in and of and for itself here: rather the multiplicity of the world and people's experiences within it are reduced to shadowy agents that are either for us or against us. It's not about protecting children's "innocence" ("think of the children", in these contexts, often just means "think of the status quo"), as much as it is about protecting yourself and the threat to your perceived place in the world.

And in all honestt I think the same holds true for the other side--if you cannot trust yourself to engage with works of art that come from a different standpoint to yours, or whose subject matter you dislike, without believing the mere fact of these works' existence will threaten something within you or society in general (which is hysterical because believe me, society is NOT that flimsy), then that is not an issue with the work itself--it's a personal issue and you need to ask yourself if it would actually be so unthinkable if your belief about something isn't as solid as you think it is, and, crucially, why you have such little faith in your own critical capacity that the only response these works ilicit from you is that no one should be able to engage with them. That's not awareness to me--it's veering very close to sticking your head in the sand, while insisting you actually aren't.

Arbitrarily adding a moral element to something that does not exist as an agent of moral rectitude but rather as an exploration of deeply human impulses, and doing so simply to justify your stance or your discomfort is not only a profoundly inadequate, but also a deeply insidious, way of papering over your insecurities and your own ignorance (i mean this in the literal sense of the word), of creating a false and dishonest certainty where certainty does not exist and then presenting this as a fact that cannot and should not be challenged and those who do are somehow perverse or should have their characters called into question for it. It's reductive and infantilising in so many ways and it also actively absolves you of any responsibility as a reader--it absolves you of taking responsibility for your own interpretation of the work in question, it absolves you of responsibility for your own feelings (and, potentially, your own biases or preconceptions), it absolves you of actual, proper, thought and engagement by laying the blame entirely on a rogue piece of literature (as if prose is something sentient) instead of acknowledging that any instance of reading is a two-way street: instead of asking why do I feel this way? what has this text rubbed up against? the assumption is that the book has imposed these feelings on you, rather than potentially illuminated what was already there.

Which brings me to something else which is that it is also, and I think this is equally dangerous, lending books and stories a mythical, almost supernatural, power that they absolutely do not have. Is story-telling one of the most human, most enduring, most important and life-altering traditions we have? Yes. But a story is also just a story. And to convince yourself that books have a dangerous transformative power above and beyond what they are actually capable of is, again, to completely erase people's agency as readers, writers' agency as writers and makers (the same as any other craft), and subsequently your own. And erasing agency is the very point of censors banning books en masse. It's not an act of stupidity or blind ignorance, but a conscious awareness of the fact that people will disagree with you, and for whatever reason you've decided that you are not going to let them.

Writers and poets are not separate entities to the rest of us: they aren't shamans or prophets, gifted and chosen beings who have some inner, profound, knowledge the rest of us aren't privy to (and should therefore know better or be better in some regard) because moral absolutism just does not exist. Every writer, no matter how affecting their work may be, is still Just Some Guy Who Made a Thing. Writing can be an incredibly intimate act, but it can also just be writing, in the same way that plumbing is plumbing and weeding is just weeding and not necessarily some transcendant cosmic endeavour in and of itself. Authors are no different, when you get down to it, from bakers or electricians; Nobel laureates are just as capable of coming out with distasteful comments about women as your annoying cousin is and the fact that they wrote a genre-defying work does not change that, or vice-versa. We imbue books with so much power and as conduits of the very best and most human traits we can imagine and hope for, but they aren't representations of the best of humanity--they're simply expressions of humanity, which includes the things we don't like.

There are some authors I love who have said and done things I completely disagree with or whose views I find abhorrent--but I'm not expecting that, just because they created something that changed my world, they are above and beyond the ordinarly, the petty, the spiteful, or cruel. That's not condoning what they have said and done in the least: but I trust myself to be able to read these works with awareness and attention, to pick out and examine and attempt to understand the things that I find questionable, to hold on to what has moved me, and to disregard what I just don't vibe with or disagree with. There are writers I've chosen not to engage with, for my own personal reasons: but I'm not going to enforce this onto someone else because I can see what others would love in them, even if what I love is not strong enough to make up for what I can't. Terrance Hayes put perfectly in my view, when he talks about this and being capable of "love without forgiveness". Writing is a profoundly human heritage and those who engage with it aren't separate from that heritage as human because they live in, and are made by, the exact same world as anyone else.

The measure of good writing for me has hardly anything to do with whatever "virtue" it's perceived to have and everything to do with sincerity. As far as I'm concerned, "positive representation" is not about 100% likeable characters who never do anything problematic or who are easily understood. Positive representation is about being afforded the full scope of human feelings, the good, the bad, and the ugly, and not having your humanity, your dignity, your right to exist in the world questioned because all of these can only be seen through the filter of race, or gender, religion, or ethicity and interpreted according to our (profoundly warped) perceptions of those categories and what they should or shouldn't represent. True recognition of someone's humanity does not lie in finding only what is held in common between you (and is therefore "acceptable", with whatever you put into that category), but in accepting everything that is radically different about them and not letting this colour the consideration you give.

Also, and it may sound harsh, but I think people forget that fictional characters are fictional. If I find a particularly fucked up relationship dynamic compelling (as I often do), or if I decide to write and explore that dynamic, that's not me saying two people who threaten to kill each other and constantly hurt each other is my ideal of romance and that this is exactly how I want to be treated: it's me trying to find out what is really happening below the surface when two people behave like this. It's me exploring something that would be traumatizing and deeply damaging in real life, in a safe and fictional setting so I can gain some kind of understanding about our darker and more destructive impulses without being literally destroyed by them, as would happen if all of this were real. But it isn't real. And this isn't a radical or complex thing to comprehend, but it becomes incomprehensible if your sole understanding of literature is that it exists to validate you or entertain you or cater to you, and if all of your interpretations of other people's intentions are laced with a persistent sense of bad faith. Just because you have not forged any identity outside of this fictional narrative doesn't mean it's the same for others.

Ursula K. le Guin made an extremely salient point about children and stories in that children know the stories you tell them--dragons, witches, ghouls, whatever--are not real, but they are true. And that sums it all up. There's a reason children learning to lie is an incredibly important developmental milestone, because it shows that they have achieved an incredibly complex, but vitally important, ability to hold two contradictory statements in their minds and still know which is true and which isn't. If you cannot delve into a work, on the terms it sets, as a fictional piece of literature, recognize its good points and note its bad points, assess what can have a real world impact or reflects a real world impact and what is just creative license, how do you possible expect to recognize when authority and propaganda lies to you? Because one thing propaganda has always utilised is a simplistic, black and white depiction of The Good (Us) and The Bad (Them). This moralistic stance regarding fiction does not make you more progressive or considerate; it simply makes it easier to manipulate your ideas and your feelings about those ideas because your assessments are entirely emotional and surface level and are fuelled by a refusal to engage with something beyond the knee-jerk reaction it causes you to have.

Books are profoundly, and I do mean profoundly, important to me-- and so much of who I am and the way I see things is probably down to the fact that stories have preoccupied me wherever I go. But I also don't see them as vital building blocks for some core facet or a pronouncement of Who I Am. They're not badges of honour or a cover letter I put out into the world for other people to judge and assess me by, and approve of me (and by extension, the things I say or feel). They're vehicles through which I explore and experience whatever it is that I'm most caught by: not a prophylactic, not a mode of virtue signalling, and certainly not a means of signalling a moral stance.

I think at the end of the day so much of this tendency to view books as an extension of yourself (and therefore of an author) is down to the whole notion of "art as a mirror", and I always come back to Fran Lebowitz saying that it "isn't a mirror, it's a door". And while I do think it's important to have that mirror (especially if you're part of a community that never sees itself represented, or represented poorly and offensively) I think some people have moved into the mindset of thinking that, in order for art to be good, it needs to be a mirror, it needs to cater to them and their experiences precisely--either that or that it can only exist as a mirror full stop, a reflection of and for the reader and the writer (which is just incredibly reductive and dismissive of both)--and if art can only exist as a mirror then anything negative that is reflected back at you must be a condemnation, not a call for exploration or an attempt at understanding.

As I said, a mirror is important but to insist on it above all else isn't always a positive thing: there are books I related to deeply because they allowed me to feel so seen (some by authors who looked nothing like me), but I have no interest in surrounding myself with those books all the time either--I know what goes on in my head which is precisely why I don't always want to live there. Being validated by a character who's "just like me" is amazing but I also want--I also need-- to know that lives and minds and events exist outside of the echo-chamber of my own mind. The mirror is comforting, yes, but if you spend too long with it, it also becomes isolating: you need doors because they lead you to ideas and views and characters you could never come up with on your own. A world made up of various Mes reflected back to me is not a world I want to be immersed in because it's a world with very little texture or discovery or room for growth and change. Your sense of self and your sense of other people cannot grow here; it just becomes mangled.

Art has always been about dialogue, always about a me and a you, a speaker and a listener, even when it is happening in the most internal of spaces: to insist that art only ever tells you what you want to hear, that it should only reflect what you know and accept is to undermine the very core of what it seeks to do in the first place, which is establish connection. Art is a lifeline, I'm not saying it isn't. But it's also not an instruction manual for how to behave in the world--it's an exploration of what being in the world looks like at all, and this is different for everyone. And you are treading into some very, very dangerous waters the moment you insist it must be otherwise.

Whatever it means to be in the world, it is anything but straightforward. In this world people cheat, people kill, they manipulate, they lie, they torture and steal--why? Sometimes we know why, but more often we don't--but we take all these questions and write (or read) our way through them hoping that, if we don't find an answer, we can at least find our way to a place where not knowing isn't as unbearable anymore (and sometimes it's not even about that; it's just about telling a story and wanting to make people laugh). It's an endless heritage of seeking with countless variations on the same statements which say over and over again I don't know what to make of this story, even as I tell it to you. So why am I telling it? Do I want to change it? Can I change it? Yes. No. Maybe. I have no certainty in any of this except that I can say it. All I can do is say it.

Writing, and art in general, are one of the very, very, few ways we can try and make sense of the apparently arbitrary chaos and absurdity of our lives--it's one of the only ways left to us by which we can impose some sense of structure or meaning, even if those things exists in the midst of forces that will constantly overwhelm those structures, and us. I write a poem to try and make sense of something (grief, love, a question about octopuses) or to just set down that I've experienced something (grief, love, an answer about octpuses). You write a poem to make sense of, resolve, register, or celebrate something else. They don't have to align. They don't have to agree. We don't even need to like each other much. But in both of these instances something is being said, some fragment of the world as its been perceived or experienced is being shared. They're separate truths that can exist at the same time. Acknowledging this is the only means we have of momentarily bridging the gaps that will always exist between ourselves and others, and it requires a profound amount of grace, consideration and forbearance. Otherwise, why are we bothering at all?

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

Between the Shadow and the Soul║ ⒸⓄⓁⓁⒺⒸⓉⒾⓄⓃⓈ

| Between the Shadow and the Soul | part of the A Savage Place collection ║ series masterlist ║ main masterlist ║

| PAIRING(s): sub!Joel Miller x dom!fem!OC | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 6.4k | CONTENT: exploration of power dynamics, submissive and domination practices, dirty talk, rewards and punishments, pegging (YAY!), some degradation type kink stuff idk, one moment of mommy kink I guess, Joel loves to throw himself a pity party & dom!fem!OC has no interest in letting that fester

| SYNOPSIS: Pegging, but make it therapeutic. And maybe a little romantic?

“It’s right back here,” Chris calls over his shoulder to you. He waves his arm in a wide arc without glancing back, motioning you to the storage area of his shop. 

You follow with barely contained excitement at what awaits.

“Here’s the loot,” he chortles. He reveals the items in question with an abrupt yank on a heavy blanket shrouding it. He gestures broadly at several dingy looking boxes that were hidden beneath.

You peer into the closest one that’s open and can’t help but gasp at the glorious sight before you: a variety of sex toys and intimacy products still in their original packaging. No sun bleaching. No molding. No wear and tear. Almost perfect condition.

“How?!” you practically shriek. “In the back stockroom of some toy shop. Shopping center next to a mall,” Chris readily explains with a shared enthusiasm. “Must’ve been in the middle of unpacking a new shipment or something because most of it was in the box still, like you see it here.”

“But they’re in such good condition!” you marvel.

“Yeah, the stuff closer to the front that wasn’t picked over already was damaged by sunlight or whatever else, but this treasure trove right here was tucked away near the back. Still got some sun and air, but not enough to damage them. I told Alex I officially believe in miracles now,” he snorts.

“Yeah, no kidding!” you laugh with effusive mirth. “I can’t believe this. Seriously. You know how long I’ve been looking for this kind of stuff?!”

“Probably about as long as I have,” he titters gleefully.

“Hey, you have the real thing at home, and I know Alex is hung like a horse based on how he carries himself,” you point out with feigned indignation.

“Yeah yeah, but it’s still fun to have toys!” he retorts with a wistful edge to his voice.

You couldn’t argue with him on that account. You thank the heavens above that Chris and Alex have a soft spot for you after you helped them link up. Alex routinely oversaw more of the specialized patrol missions, and you’d known it in your bones the moment you met Chris that the two of them would hit it off. When you and Alex set out on a 3 day scouting trip all those moons ago, you’d convinced him by the end of it to strike up a conversation with Chris just to “see where things went.” Of course they didn’t even make it through their first outing to get drinks together before they were infatuated with one another.

“And the real thing I have at home was just about as excited as you and me are,” he adds. “Has his eye on a few things, but don’t worry, though. I already old him it was only right that you get first pick.”

You waste no time rummaging through the goods. You snatch up several items you know will serve you well. When your hand hesitates over the packaging of a strap-on harness, Chris lifts a curious brow. You grin and roll your eyes at his silent probing.

“Dare I ask who the special lady is?” he questions in a sing-song voice.

When you purse your lips into a poorly contained smirk, his eyebrows lift into his hairline. “Oh, a special man?”

He eyes the strap harness before looking back at you with a wicked grin. “Okay, I’m not gonna ask about it today, but you WILL be spilling all the details at some point.”

You giggle and agree you’ll eventually share some of the particulars about your “mystery man.” After going through each and every box, you set out with a hefty bag of goods, satisfied with your haul and all the possibilities it facilitated. You could hardly wait to get into all of it and surprise Joel with a few things. You thankfully didn’t have to wait long for an opportunity as it was only a few days later that he was able to meet up at your house.

It had been almost two weeks since you’d been able to spend time together outside of patrols. His mood had shifted into something closer to his previously staunch antagonism, and you weren’t sure if he was dealing with something privately or if he was just sulking over your stringent expectations of his behavior when you were apart. If it was the latter, not being allowed to get yourself off for a little while certainly didn’t warrant such a surly disposition.

Something felt off, though. It wasn’t just the bitter, grouchy temperament that you’d come to know and dismantle over the months you’d been seeing each other. No, there was something else bubbling under the surface. Something more than sexual frustration, although you’re sure that didn’t help.

His sullen knock at the door was the first reminder of the semi-detached doldrum he’d taken to lately. You beckoned him inside and gave several languid kisses along the column of his neck the moment the door closed. Instead of meeting your physical advances, his hands gently wrapped around the span of your back and cupped you closer to him. When he released a ragged sigh, you knew it was going to be one of those times where he needed a little extra tenderness.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Joel drawls in a lazy hum.

“Hey, baby. What’s going on?” You push a few of the graying, curly strands from his forehead, taking the occasion to search his face for any indication of what had him so squarely in the clutches of unrest.

“Just havin’ a time right now with Ellie, is all,” he mumbles after a moment. His eyes focus on your shoulder and collarbones - anywhere but meeting your gaze - but there was a faraway look in them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask carefully. The topic of Ellie always had the potential to be a sensitive one for Joel, and you had your suspicions for the past couple of weeks that there was some sort of unresolved issue between the two of them.

Joel shook his head gently. “Nah. Not ready.”

You nod and immediately back off the topic. Joel needed a safe place to run to, and you didn’t want to be another thing he was running from.

“Let’s get you cleaned up so I can take care of you today, okay? How does that sound?” you offer in a sultry, low voice.

“Sounds perfect, honey,” he agrees, his shoulders slumping at the pacifying reassurance you always provided.

You help him out of his jacket and boots before guiding him to the bathroom. You turn the shower on and strip him down while it warms up. The growing heat of the water begins to plume into a fog of cloudy steam inside the bathroom.

“Go on and sit,” you shoo him into the shower. You strip yourself and join him. Even with his large frame and broad shoulders, Joel looks so small in this moment, sitting wide legged on the built in shower bench with his head leaning against the wall behind him. You can see just how tired he looks when you’re eye to eye like this.

He appraises your naked body with a wanton, gluttonous fixation. His cock twitches in response to the gains yielded by his unabashed ogling. His hand edges towards where he’s already half-hard, but he doesn’t touch himself yet. Not without your permission.

You take your time angling the showerhead so the outpour of water cascades over his crown and downward between the stretch of sore muscles of his shoulder blades and back. His eyes close with a satisfied groan at the feeling of the heat over his tired, aching body.

You divert some of the water with your hands to douse his upper body. You grab the shampoo off to the side and spurt a small puddle of the rosemary and lavender scented liquid into the cup of your palm.

“You been a good boy?” you gently ease into some teasing. You rub the shampoo between your hands.

“Haven’t got off in over a fuckin’ week, if that’s what you’re askin’,” he snips impatiently.

You balk at his impolite tone. “Well don’t ruin all that now with such a bad attitude,” you chide.

He sighs and drops his shoulders. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away and grasping his hands together in his lap before looking back up at you with a chastised, contrite expression. He extends a tentative reach and curves his hands around your waist in a meek bid for forgiveness.

“I’ll accept your apology, but don’t test my patience,” you warn.

You lather up the shampoo in his hair and work it over in kneading circles. His brows knit together. His eyes peacefully drift shut. You scratch at the base of his scalp, just where he likes. He lets out a low groan of relief.

“I know you’ve been having a hard time lately, Joel. That’s what I’m here for. I’m here to take care of you, give you what you need. So are you going to be a nice boy for mommy today and let me give you what you need?”

His eyes remain closed as you rinse the suds from his hair.

“Yes, ma’am,” he promises.

“That’s what I like to hear, sweet boy.”

You work up a soapy foam and wash him top to bottom. His cock is soft again by the time you make it down his legs, but there’ll be time for that later. Right now you need to get Joel into a clearer headspace, one with a less turbulent response pattern. You take extra care to wash his feet, knowing he doesn’t ever take the time to really look after them as well as he should. He moans at the kneading motions you rub along the arch of his feet.

“God that feel so fuckin’ good,” he murmurs.

You spend a few extra minutes massaging his knees, never able to forget the day that raider had knocked him down and added even more strain to his already bad joints. When you finally finish working over his muscles and washing him up, you direct the water back and forth to rinse any remaining residue.

Once the final specs of soap have been cleared away with the rush of hot water, you massage his temples and jaw where he endlessly overtaxed the muscles with incessant clenching and grinding - a longstanding bad habit that had made a return as of late. 

He sighs and leans into your palliative hold, letting the hot water wash over his back. His arms circle your middle and hug you closer to him. Sometimes it was sloppy messes, wet kisses, and blood surging between thighs from the moment he came through your door. Other times, like today, it was something more intimate, a give and take. 

He’d nestle himself right into the crag of reprieve and sanctuary you’d cleft into for him. You let him stay there for as long as he wanted, whenever he wanted. It felt good to be needed. It felt gratifying and substantial to guide something broken through the thick of it all and into someplace less fraught with the realities of life. You, too, could escape there right alongside him, swept up in the creation and execution of taking someone into yourself to safeguard and mold into a dulcified, amenable thing.

You cut the water off and wrap a soft towel around Joel’s shoulders. You help him towel dry his hair and upper body before exiting the shower and hug a towel over yourself. Joel drapes another clean towel around his waist and heads for the bedroom. You smile to yourself at the familiar routine that’s already been established between the two of you. As expected, he’s lying over the towels, spread across your bed, as he waits for you to join him.

You grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and pull it on to stave off the chill in the air. You grab the container of lotion from your dresser and head for the bed. Joel watches you with a soft fondness as you climb onto it and straddle him. You take a dab of lotion and rub it into his cheeks and nose.

“Still don’t see why I gotta get this stuff every time I shower over here,” he objects gruffly.

“Because you don’t ever lotion, Joel. Seriously, the only time you ever take care of your skin is when somebody else is forcing you to,” you huff in a laugh. “You’re sexy and all that, but nobody can pull off lizard skin. Not even you.”

He belly laughs at that and runs his palms over your bare thighs as you sit atop him. It’s nice to hear him laugh. You feel proud that you’ve already gotten him this relaxed.

“Besides, I know it feels good to finally get some moisture on this goddamn sandpaper you call skin. It just about drinks up every drop of lotion I’ve got every time I do this,” you point out.

“Mmmm, yeah. Does feel nice,” he admits with a sheepish, lazy grin.

You smile back at him and shake your head. “Silly boy. Already told you that’s what I’m here to do. To make you feel good if you’ve behaved yourself.”

“And, uh… today, do I…” he trails off.

You realize he thinks showering and some light pampering is all he’s getting rewarded with today.

“I mean, I just… you know, after a whole week - OVER a week, actually - of not havin’ any ‘stress relief’, especially when I really coulda used some,” he emphasizes.

“You’re the one that canceled last week,” you remind him pointedly.

“I know, I know. Didn’t want to. Somethin’ with Ellie came up, and … anyway, I didn’t cancel because I wanted to. God knows I’ve been goin’ outta my fuckin’ mind tryna follow your fuckin’ rules,” he gripes.

“Joel Miller, are you pouting because you couldn’t jerk yourself off for a few days?” you taunt.

Joel huffs loudly but doesn’t respond further.

“I asked you a question,” you caution.

He breathes out a weighted puff of air and nervously readjusts his body. “Look, it’s not- I’m not pouting. I just.. I missed bein’ with you, I guess. Needed you, like this,” he admits quietly.

You heave a half-exasperated sigh. It was hard to stay annoyed with him when he got like this. He sometimes put forth a weak effort to regain some of the control in your dynamic, but you could understood how hard it was for someone like Joel to give up control in the first place. If it wasn’t working for him anymore, you might’ve relented, but deep down you both knew he needed the reinforcement and structure you gave him. What you had worked for both of you, even if Joel sometimes tried to self-sabotage.

 “I missed you, too, baby,” you yield. You rub lotion into the rest of his body and watch the rise and fall of his chest start to slow. After a few moments of comfortable silence, Joel shifts again under your touch.

“I guess I just–I dunno. I didn’t know what to expect comin’ over today. Never canceled on you before. Didn’t know if it was gonna be some punishment or somethin’ for it. Didn’t know if I’d done good enough to get rewarded,” he explains stiffly, nervously.

“You know if you follow my rules and obey me, you get rewarded. Why would that change?” you contend.

“I dunno,” he blows out in an exaggerated exhale, staring up at the ceiling. “I guess I just feel like I don’t know much of anythin’ anymore.”

Before Joel could slump any further into his own pity party, you decide to give him the swift kick to the ass you had to dole out every now and then to get him back on track. You lift away from straddling him and place both knees on one side next to his hip. You lean forward, one arm firmly planted beside his head.

“Well then let’s clear it up, Joel,” you hiss. His eyes light up excitedly at your change in tone.

“This–” you grit out, roughly grabbing his soft dick “–belongs to me.”

You slowly stroke him a few times, enjoying the way blood starts rushing to his cock and hardening under your touch. All too avid and supplicant at your directive.

“And you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about what happens to it because that’s for me to decide. Are we clear?” you press.

He lets out a choked moan and nods.

“SAY IT.”

“It’s all yours, sweetheart,” he grinds out with effort.

“What’s mine, Joel?” you push.

“My dick. It’s yours. All yours,” he grits out when your strokes get firmer and faster. Beads of precome start to trickle freely from his swollen tip.

“Mmmmm, that’s right. Glad we could clear that up,” you chuckle humorlessly. Your hand drops lower beneath his balls, garnering a hitched breath and exhilarated stare from Joel. 

“And this little hole is mine, too,” you murmur. You swirl the pad of your middle finger over his asshole and smile when you feel it pucker inward.

Joel swallows harshly and nods in agreement. “S’yours, baby.”

You hum with delight and agreement. “Good boy.”

Joel’s cock jumps at the simple plaudit, and you’re relieved that he’s finally veering away from feeling sorry for himself. “I just love when you obey me, Joel. It means I get to take such good care of you. Give you just what you need.”

You slide off the bed and saunter lazily to your closet where all your new goodies are tucked away. You bring out the opaque plastic container you’d housed them all in after sterilizing and cleaning everything.

“What’s all that?” Joel asks, almost breathless with anticipation.

“Just a few things I picked up,” you respond coyly. “Couldn’t pass them up once I realized I could find new ways to use you.”

Joel emits a needy groan at the possessive and maddeningly vague language around what was going to happen to him at your hand today.

“I’m going to sort through a few things here, and when I turn back around you’d better be on your belly with some pillows beneath you. I want your ass UP and waiting for me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel agrees in a rush. You smile to yourself when you hear his hurried repositioning. You take your time pushing things around the container, tacking a few moments onto the process just to draw out the intoxicating thrill of anticipation.

When you turn and see him splayed out for you just as you commanded, you have to stop yourself from reaching between your legs.

“You’re such a good listener when you’re weak, honey,” you needle. “Haven’t gotten off in over a week, right? So fucking pussy drunk you’ll do whatever I say, just so you can come, huh? Pretty fucking pathetic.”

“Fuck,” Joel hisses under his breath. His cock is rock hard and pressing straight down between his thighs against the pillow. He grinds it pitifully against the pillows propping him up, searching for any sort of relief.

“I’m goin’ outta my fuckin’ mind,” he grates through his teeth. He really does sound pained.

“If you don’t stop complaining, I will find something to shut you up,” you warn him flatly.

“Just fuckin’ need you, baby, please,” he grumbles with a touch more humility.

“Where do you need me, Joel?” you tease.

“Anywhere,” he groans desperately.

You crouch down behind him and run an admiring pass of your hands over his backside. You spread them apart and shoot a hot ball of spit onto the opening in between. Joel jumps and moans at the sensation, and you give him no time to process it further before sliding the flat of your tongue against the glistening wet you spit onto him.

He bucks his hips into the pillows beneath him and lets out a loud, strained moan. He already sounds completely wrecked. You lap gently, delving your tongue inside of his opening every few passes, and settle into a slow rhythm until he relaxes beneath you. You only break away to grab at Joel’s mouth and command for him to spit into your hand. He gives you everything he can gather and makes a mess of your palm. You work the slippery wet over your fingers until they’re coated.

You gently cup and massage his balls while you advance your index finger inch by delicate inch into his taut ring of muscle. You laugh quietly under your breath as you watch your digit get practically swallowed into him without any effort from you.

“Such a needy little hole,” you mock. “Didn’t realize it craved my attention this bad.”

Joel groans and shifts his hips higher for easier access.

“Talk to me, baby. I wanna know how it feels.”

“Mmm, s’g-good. Like it. You make me feel–hnn–so good,” he answers in a stilted gasp.

When you pull out just enough for your fingertip to be all that’s still inside him, Joel’s hips cant backwards towards you, chasing the fill of you. He mumbles something quietly that you don’t catch.

“Speak up,” you reprimand, laying a harsh swat to the flesh of his backside. He jerks forward and moans before repeating himself.

“Fuck – just, maybe could you … just – more?” he asks in a hushed tone.

You exhale a laugh through your nose and spit on your index and middle fingers before gliding them inside. Joel tenses slightly at the added girth, and you rub encouraging circles against the back of his thigh with your free hand.

“You look so good opening up for me like this, baby,” you coo. “I wish you could see yourself spreading around my fingers. So fucking tight, but you’re taking them so well.”

“How can I–” he grunts, cutting himself off as he tries to relax into the intrusion.

“Just breathe through it and know it makes me happy when you take my fingers like this. So proud of you when you open up for me like this.”

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Joel is taking the gentle push and pull of two fingers without any resistance. He’d only ever taken one before today, and you needed to get him more worked up if you wanted to do what you had in mind.

“God that feels fuckin’ weird but so damn good at the same time,” he huffs. 

You can’t help but smile at the hint of confusion in his voice, the mystery of the pleasure his own body holds. The pillow beneath him is smeared with dribbles of precome, and you need to back off for a moment before he comes everywhere. He makes a noise of dissent when you slide your fingers all the way out.

“As much as I love that needy little hole of yours, mine comes first,” you remind him. You wipe your hands and between his thighs with one of the towels from the shower and make your way over to the box of goodies. Joel turns on his side to watch what you have planned for him. You take out the mid sized dildo to gauge his reaction, which turns out to be an almost comical look of panic.

“Don’t get too excited, baby boy. You haven’t earned this one yet,” you tut.

You pull out a bottle of lube that was revived once a little water was added to it and squirt a small amount onto the tip. It wasn’t as big as Joel - and therefore wouldn’t be as satisfying -  but it would do for now in taking care of the throbbing feeling between your legs as well as getting Joel even more worked up and accepting of anything you gave him.

You pull your shirt up and over your head, tossing it carelessly on the floor, as you head over to the bed once more. You kick the pillows to the side and lay on your back beside Joel. He eagerly scoots closer to you and runs his hands up and down the expanse of your body.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. So fuckin' perfect,” he breathes.

You’ll never get over the earnest admiration in his voice when he compliments you during these quiet, shared moments. The gratitude and reverence in the lilt of his extolling makes your chest feel warm and light.

“Can I help you feel good, too?” he pleads with big eyes.

“Only because you’ve been so good for me.”

He breathes a smile and watches as you slowly insert the toy into your aching core. You sigh at the small but welcomed stretch, working it in and out with a steady rhythm. Joel’s mouth is on your hardened nipples, your neck, your earlobes, your ribcage, your clit. Anywhere and everywhere he can worship you with his mouth. It isn’t long before you’re clenching repeatedly onto the toy. Joel releases the suction of his mouth against your clit to watch the spasm of your muscles.

“God, I could watch that all fuckin’ day,” he muses, staring intently at your pussy as your orgasm starts to ebb away.

You pull the toy out and let him admire the glistening mixture of lube and your slick. You sit up slowly, with Joel mimicking the movement, and offer it to him. “Clean it.”

He quirks an eyebrow and reaches for it, presumably to take it to the bathroom to rinse it off. You grin at his misunderstanding. “With your mouth.”

Joel’s eyes narrow at you for a moment. “You really want me gaggin’ on that stupid thing and pukin’ all over your bed?” he scoffs. 

“Never said that, but if that’s what I wanted then that’s exactly what you’d be doing,” you snip sternly.

Joel’s brow pinches together in a fluid movement before returning to something more neutral. He remains silent, but you notice the way his breath has picked up with the lift and sink of his chest. It was no secret to you that Joel got off on the idea of you commanding every idea, movement, and action of his, yet somehow he still managed to be surprised sometimes by his eagerness to be dominated and subjugated by someone he trusted and knew would never actively seek to harm him.

“On your knees,” you bite. He groans but positions himself as you instructed. You stand on the bed in front of him and hold the toy between your legs, right at his eye level. “Open your mouth and lick this cock clean.”

Joel considers the toy for a moment, a flush of heat gracing his cheeks, before looking back up at you.

“Tongue out, baby boy. Don’t get shy on me now,” you taunt.

He closes his eyes and sticks a sliver of tongue out. He starts grazing a small area near the base but doesn’t seem all that enthusiastic about it.

“You keep your eyes open and on me when you’re licking my cock clean,” you snap with a forceful grab to his hair.

Joel growls at the sudden pull on his scalp but keeps his eyes opened and trained on you.

“Stick it out, wide and flat,” you instruct. Joel complies, jutting his tongue all the way out and wide open for you. “Good boy.” You thrust the toy slowly against the flat of his tongue with a rolling motion of your hips as you use his mouth to clean it. You grow impatient with the task before it’s even halfway cleaned.

“That’s good enough. I’m ready to take that little hole of yours again,” you drawl.

You ignore Joel’s excited breathing as you exchange the toy for the smaller, curved one you made sure wouldn’t be too small to fit the strap harness. It wasn’t what you wanted to see shoving in and out of Joel’s asshole, but you had to start somewhere.

“On your belly, just like before,” you call over your shoulder.

You hear the rustling of Joel positioning himself, eager to please and eager to see what you’re gifting him with next. In the months you’d been exploring this dynamic together, you’d found that Joel liked a constant barrage of unknowns you’d throw at him, only to safely guide him to the other side of it where he’d be trying to catch his breath after being catapulted into yet another overwhelming, blissful climax. There was a thrill to it now for him, one that he hadn’t embraced at first. You can only hope he doesn’t fight you too hard on this one.

You quickly fasten the harness around your waist and legs and attach the small, curved dildo to it. You grab the bottle of lube to take with you back to bed. You spread Joel apart and dribble a cold stream of it onto him, letting it slither down to his hole that’s begging to be filled with you. Your index and middle fingers slide in without resistance. He was so worked up from everything that he was just about ready to take what you had for him.

“Roll over.”

Joel obeys, and you watch with stifled delight as he takes in your get up. His eyes snap up to yours with uncertainty.

“Knees up.”

Joel slowly draws his heels onto the edge of the bed and removes one of the pillows underneath his hips. When you stroke some lube up and down the small toy, something seems to snap in him. He huffs a sigh and drops an arm over his face.

“Joel, you need to use your words if this is something you don’t want,” you assert slowly and firmly. “You know how this works by now. You can’t expect me to know every little thought you have. If you want this to stop, it stops, but you have to tell me.”

“I know that. It’s not that. I trust you, I do–” he sighs, lifting his arm from his face and resting it above his head, “–I’ve just never done this shit before, alright? I’m tryna enjoy it, but that’s kinda hard to do when I’m wonderin’ if I’m gonna be shittin’ weird for the next week or somethin’.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You wanted to tell him you’ve taken much bigger without any life-altering results, but you know it would only get the conversation incredibly off course.

“Have I ever hurt you, Joel?” you level at him.

He lets out a deep breath after a moment. “No.”

“Do you think I’d take advantage of this thing we’ve got?”

He shakes his head thoughtfully. “No.”

“I’m going to ignore the fact that you’re not referring to me correctly because I know you’re distracted, okay? But you need to trust me if this is going to work. So, you need to decide if you trust me to make you feel good and to take care of you how you need.”

Joel locks eyes with you and nods. “Okay. I trust you.”

“Good. Now put your fucking knees up and say thank you.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you,” Joel obliges.

You grab the base of the toy and guide the tip of it right to his rim. You slowly push inside, studying Joel’s face for any sign of pain. 

“You’re opening up so good for me,” you praise as your gaze settles onto the toy already halfway inside.

“PLEASE CAN I FUCKIN’ TOUCH MY DICK,” Joel chokes out in a gasp.

“Go ahead, baby,” you answer calmly.

Joel grabs his rigid length and strokes himself vigorously. His eyes roll to the back of his head when you push the toy inside him all the way to the hilt. When you draw back out, a broken moan catches in his throat. You watch the pace of his hand up and down his length and mimic the same rhythm. It’s not long before he realizes you’re matching his movements, and his brow tightens and releases with the realization and acceptance of this novel pleasure. 

“There you go. Just how you like it,” you coax softly. You smile as his eagerness intensifies. You love to watch him catch onto things, make these small discoveries about himself. This is a bigger leap than you’ve taken before - and maybe he still needs to be in control somewhat - but that spark of hunger you’ve ignited in him will only grow. You know one day soon he’ll be begging for you to fill him up with the biggest toy you’ve got while he’s on all fours.

You lean down for a moment to give him a slow, gentle kiss. You pull back slightly, rubbing your nose against his for a moment.

“Joel, what happens here - between us - it’s safe. So you can say what you’re dying to say. I see it all over your face how much you want to.”

You pull up and resume the steady thrusting motion from before. Joel’s hands grip the sheets in hard fists by his sides.

“You can say it, Joel. Tell me how much you love getting your tight, needy hole fucked by my cock,” you urge.

“Hrrmmpphh-fuck!–yesss–hnnffff,” he pants. Sweat is gathering in glimmering beads along his hairline and forehead.

“You’ve got such a greedy little hole for me to fuck, don’t you?”

“Gahh–AGH—YES,” he croaks. He’s starting to writhe underneath you. You wrap your hands over his hip bones and thrust harder.

“You know I wanna hear you say it, baby.”

“I–GOD, fuck yes–please,” Joel pants. “I fuckin’ have a — god dammit, such a - have such a greedy little hole I want you to fuck.”

“Yeah, you do, huh?” you chuckle. “I love watching how well you take it. You take my cock so well, Joel. You were just made for me to use.”

“Feels so fuckin’ good, honey,” he moans as you pick up the pace.

The muscles in his stomach begin to tense up, and you watch as it dawns on Joel that he’s coming. His mouth stretches open to a silent scream as his hands fly over top of yours, squeezing and grabbing for something to keep hold of him.

“Oh, fuck yeah. There we go,” you laud as you watch heavy beads of semi-clear white spend dribble from his angry, red tip. 

You fuck him through it, tilting his hips up when they drop so you can keep nudging against his prostate. When you pull out of him, he’s still coming down from what you can only assume is his first prostate orgasm. Just in case he could ever forget how good you make him feel, you want to add on one final novelty.

“Hands and knees,” you instruct coolly.

“I-I can’t,” Joel exhales heavily.

“Hands and knees or it’s two weeks without coming.”

As expected, Joel complies to avoid the punishment. You squirt more lube onto the toy and settle on your back beneath him, once again moving the pillows out of the way with a quick kick. Before you can give him his next instruction, Joel’s mouth is on yours with a heavy, impassioned kiss.

He groans into your mouth, sucking and licking into it as if the oxygen from your lungs is all the air that he has in order to breathe. The intensity and undeniable intimacy of it catches you off guard, and you quickly fall into the movements of his tongue against yours.

Joel pulls away, breathing fast and heavy, with a look of complete deference. “Tell me what you want me to do, baby. Anything. Anything for you. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

“Sit on my cock,” you pant, out of breath from the kiss.

Joel clumsily lines himself up with the toy and sinks onto it with a heavy groan.

“Fuck yourself with my cock, and you can come all over these pretty tits,” you goad.

Joel starts jerking himself and grabbing at your breasts. You caress and stroke his balls. He awkwardly rolls his hips until he finds something that works for him, settling on a slow, deep grind. His face quickly contorts to one of imminent release.

“Such a good fucking boy for me today, Joel. So good for me. You wanna come all over my tits, baby? Make me all messy with your come? Give me something to taste?” you ask in a sickly sweet voice.

“FUCK, yeah–yes, baby, fuck yeah I do, so fuckin’ bad,” he rasps.

You take a free hand to pinch one of his nipples, and he jerks forward with a moan. You watch the small space where he lifts himself from the toy as he grinds against it.

“Keep going. Taking my cock so good. You look so perfect spreading open for me like that,” you spur him on.

You keep a steady, massaging motion on his balls as you open your mouth wide for him. You make a playful, teasing moaning noise beneath him, wordlessly begging for him to come all over you.

Joel’s hips stutter with a hitched whimper as hot white ropes start to erupt all over your chest and face. He falters forward, catching himself with his free hand against the mattress at the last moment.

“FUCK! Got my fuckin’–christ almi–FUCK,” he groans as the last bit of his spend lands with a soft splat onto your belly.

He lifts himself off the toy and slumps into a heap halfway over your body. He doesn’t seem to notice or care about the feeling of his come spreading against his skin where his weight bears into you. He slowly catches his breath and opens his eyes to meet yours. You wait, watching him with a satisfied smile. His face is relaxed and open. The grooves and lines of stress and upset are no longer as prominent as they’d been when he first arrived.

He drags a thumb through a half-crusted glob of his spend drying against your cheek and brings it to your lips. You open your mouth and suck on it. He scrapes and feeds you the rest of his release from your neck and face. You smile contentedly at the look of sleepy wonder he has for you.

“Don’t know what I did before you,” he muses in a soft hush.

You lean in with a gentle kiss, letting him taste himself on your tongue for a moment, and pull back. “You know we have to get a shower again, right?”

He shuts his eyes and grumbles. “You’re gonna make me use lotion again, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely,” you laugh as you pull him into a tight embrace.

This is not the last of Joel getting pegged, so please don't fret. Just wanted to explore the *~first time~* for him. Please trust I have every intention of this man getting his cheeks clapped hahaha.

Title is from Pablo Neruda:

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,    or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:    I love you as one loves certain obscure things,    secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

catch ya later, ♥Puddles♥

tagging if you requested pegging or if I feel that you are spiritually aligned with Joel Miller getting pegged:

@beelzebeth87 @lvl-2005 @wannab-urs @for-a-longlongtime @toxicanonymity @walkintotheriveranddisappear @munchieforpedropascal @danaispunk @cinnamonpolvera @jupiter-soups @roguedjarin @rav3n-pascal22 @someotherasshole @forestfaeriequeen @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @atticrissfinch

[furbygoblinxiv]

Ok now to be annoying about a completely different flavor of Zelda: That cartoon from the 80s that has aged so poorly I take psychic damage every time I watch it (which has been multiple times (I have problems)). A few months ago when rewatching and being sick of the Link's personality from the show (his best feature is how funny the "Well excuuuuse me, princess" line is) I was like "I wish the quiet kid from the games/art was here instead" and accidentally thought too hard and made an au/rewrite of the cartoon lmao.

Anyways Zelda cartoon au where cryptid boy Link saves the post apocalyptic Hyrule of loz 1 and chills in the castle with cartoon Zelda to defend the triforce pieces that they have while trying to find the last piece before Ganon can find it, stumbling across the sleeping loz 2 Zelda along the way lol. Hijinks ensue as he teaches Zelda the brawns to back up her girlboss and he gets an adventure buddy because its dangerous to go alone and Zelda with her boomerang and crossbow goes hard. I think a monster of the week style plot works for the earlier Zelda games, but an overarching plot could coexist with that since that is kinda how games work lol.

As per usual here are a bunch of slapdash barely related sketches of my ideas with my expanded thoughts below bc I think it'd be fun to share:

I look at the official art of Link being a quiet determined little dude with a backpack of tools and wish that that was represented more. Like look at him! What a guy! Imagine giving a quiet puzzle solving 14 year old a sword, lethal magical weapons, and a wasteland to explore! I would love a show about that! In terms of other characters, swap out that annoying fairy character, put in a Navi clone, at least Navi didn't have a crush on Link🤮. Ganon can stay the same so long as he was always a demon pig and was never a Gerudo man because unlike Nintendo, I do not want to imply that the only prominent man of color in the series has only one big braincell thats just screaming "EVIL" on loop. But! Keep Zelda the same, I love her so much in the cartoon, she's obnoxious in a slay girlboss way, maximum vibes. By virtue of not having a paper thin plot, most other characters that were fine get fixed by proxy.

I think plot wise? It takes place a few years after the first game. Initially, Link saved the royal family and they started rebuilding that area of Hyrule, and Link traveled around to help people. One day, Ganon's minions start making attacks on the castle to steal the triforce pieces back to revive him fully, and a Zelda who greatly admires Links steps up to defend the place. Eventually, Zelda requests Link return to help defend the castle while they search for the mysterious hidden third triforce piece in order to combine the full thing and wish for peace in Hyrule. Link agrees and the hyjinks begin.

IIRC the og Link backstory was that he was the son of the hyrulean queen and the elf king or smth? In the manga? I didn't want him to be hylian royalty but I wanted to keep that cryptid vibe, hence why I have him related instead to the great fairy and the kokiri. He just leaves the forest/cave one day with literally nothing to go save Hyrule, what a chad. I think it'd be funny if people describe Zelda as feral due to how boisterous and headstrong she is, especially out on the field, but Link is the quiet version of wild that you don't notice at first. She is openly intelligent and snarky in comparison to "says 3 lines a day, bombs first and asks questions later, explore under every rock and bush" forest kid Link.

It would be fun though if "rushes into danger" Zelda resonated more with the triforce of power and "solves dungeon puzzles for funsies" Link with the triforce of wisdom, then they both resonated with the triforce of courage upon finding it. idk tho lol

I also think two different young Zeldas coexisting with each other after one awoke from a cursed slumber would be really funny. Like that's gotta be so awkward, especially if one has the fighter girlboss slay up to 11 and the other just woke up from a coma to her family gone and her kingdom destroyed and just kinda wants to read books and drink tea in peace. Imagine being the same age or older than your great (great?) aunt. Or imagine if the old lady Impa nursemaid to Zelda 1 Zelda was the young Impa nursemaid to the Zelda 2 Zelda. Wild.

If I wasn't incapable of remembering to finish writing wips I'd write that series lol. Alas, this is all I can pull for now.

I'd love to call this propaganda to go watch the show but maybe don't because its yikes. This is moreso propaganda for someone to make a Zelda cartoon show instead of the movie that I sense Nintendo is plotting to make. Also, if you've read this far, I should mention I also will probably be posting art from some of my actual long term Zelda aus beyond just expanding on the cartoon, though I may continue to do that if my train of thought continues on these tracks.

[gabnills]

Idk if you're still taking requests but maybe headcanons on how neteyam is with a human reader? Like would his family approve of the relationship? Is he more protective? Bunch of fluff and maybe some angst. ❤

This is definitely going to have a second part

Neteyam X F! Human Reader Headcanons Part 1

So as the principal, you would have to be like Spider's sister, it's the only way I can find, one: be more or less the same age and two: be close to the family because this is the thing

Although Jake always wanted the humans and the Navi to be united Neytiri on the other hand, he always made sure to tell each of his children the atrocities of the sky people, so Neteyam (with some known exceptions) never fully trusted in humans

Norm thought it would be a good idea to raise the twins with the Navi people, it could almost be said that it was an experiment, so when he presented them with a little Nete who was barely walking, he was scared

Over time, explorations through the forest were the favorite part of the whole family, of course you never gave much importance to the strange looks of his mother, you chose not to take it personally, you were also aware of the damage caused by your species originally

They couldn't be happier with each baby in the family the following years, it meant more people in their explorations and also, you could teach things to the little ones that Jake had taught you before

You were always closer to Neteyam because for a long time it had been just the two of you, and the friendship of so many years ago inevitably turned into something more when, around 16, adolescent hormones made your eyes occasionally wander into his strong arms or into her jawline marked more often than you'd admit

Neteyam is not safe from that and when she occasionally invites you to fly in her Ikran she places her hands on your thighs or she grabs you by the waist a little too hard with the excuse that you might fall

What really made you fall in love was her daring personality and at the same time so protective of you every time you both went hunting, and the smile she gave you every time you hit the target with an arrow had no comparison.

For his part, your bright eyes behind the oxygen mask every time you admired the nature of the forest in his explorations, you loved his world and his people and that filled his heart with warmth every time

You turned to Kiri, although you always had more confidence with Nete, you didn't think it was something you could talk to him about, not for now at least. He turned to his father, he thought that maybe he would understand because his story with his mother was not so different.

Things change, Jake knew that they have always been close and that this could happen sooner or later, but he was not sure, his son would be the next Olo'eyktan and he did not believe that the people would see that relationship with good eyes, even if it hurt him , "We'll figure it out" was just another way of saying it wasn't possible

Jake tried to subtly separate them by giving them tasks that would take them right on the opposite side of each other in the hope that things would cool down and no one would get hurt, he chose not to tell his wife because he knew she would take more radical actions

Over time, sometimes days went by without seeing each other but the feelings never dissipated, so one night Neteyam decided that he had had enough and that he needed to tell you, he was not willing to continue pretending that things had not changed

He went quietly to your house shared with Spider a few minutes from the village and looking out the window surprisingly you were awake reading some of the books that the scientists in the laboratory knew that you like

You looked out the window surprised to see him, it had been a long time, maybe weeks since you had really seen him and had shared some moment together, so when he invited you for a walk you felt an immense wave of joy and euphoria your soul

[thiefbird]

Ok how about Jack/Stephen (or Jack&Stephen) with the prompt "some part of me must have died the first time that you called me baby." AND maybe like play with the later line "some part of me must have died the final time that you called me baby." Like the first time Stephen refers to Jack so lovingly is the last time??Maybe like one of them is dying or something? Angst?? IDK HOW WRITING PROMPT REQUESTS GO!? OK THANK YOU BYE

Yeah - you got it! I write for Dragon Age too, and they have a thing every friday called Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle where everyone sends each other asks with prompts and pairings; the idea is that you write them that night and post immediately, no editing! It's super fun and I miss doing it, but I'm not super feeling the DA writing bug ATM, and also work friday nights, so it's not feasible.

But I missed prompt writing, so I'm seeking it out on my own!

And ohhhh this is some delicious angst thank you - I will probably change out "baby" for a more period-accurate endearment but lets see what I can come up with...

[Two excerpts from the diaries of Dr Stephen E Maturin, Esq.: the first dated 29 June 1803 - just after the end of the Peace of Amiens - and the second 23 October, 1847 - the day of Admiral Jno. Aubrey's death. These fragments were first published by his (and Admiral Jno. Aubrey's) 5th great-granddaughter, Diana Niamh Lambert, in a collection exploring Dr Maturin's complex relationship with the Aubreys; there are provided here in both their original encoded Catalan and an English translation.]

[the writing on these pages is hasty and sprawling, but neater than anything dated after 1805]

I hardly know how to write - I am aflutter like a girl. My hand is miserable - it sprawls across the page with no respect for the cost of bound pages - but I must sort my thoughts. JA - he is not yet well, of course, the creature; he will not be for many weeks still, so weak and exhausted is he. But he recovers as well as I could hope, though he is occasionally still delirious for some time after waking. I had thought his endearments to me a symptom of his delirium - perhaps he thought me to be SW, the dear girl, or another of his acquaintance, and so he clung to my hand and called me beloved out of his confusion. And yet today, in his waking dream, he called out "Stephen, my soul and love," when he could not find me. I felt as if I should die to hear it - I had not considered even the idea of my affections returned. I know I am letting my heart run away with my head (a state more familiar these last months than since before the failed Uprising) but- If he should- Will I ask him, when he is well? His friendship means so very much to me that I fear risking it on such a chance - I am ever a coward in affairs of the heart, as shown by MO'C and DV both before now - and yet my breast feels so light at the possibility that I cannot imagine staying silent.

[the writing on these pages show evidence of severe arthritis and tremours, as well as what appears to be damage from tears]

He is gone. Jack Aubrey has breathed his last - SA and the children were with him at the end, as was I; even SP was able to make the trip, having relocated to Ireland with Jack's decline. SP and I sit with him now - there are no Church of England rites to be performed, and SA was kind enough to allow us our heathenish, Papist rituals to-night. I have feared this day for so long - an abstract fear near as long as we have known each other (for the atrocities of war are blindingly apparent to a surgeon), and a far more real horror since the death of my beloved Diana. The Dear knows I did not cope well with her loss; I was not a good father to BA for many years after - for she is so like her mother as to have hurt to look at - and I thank Mary every day for CO and PC and SA for caring for my little bird when I could not. Yet I find age has tempered the pain, though I grieve him more fully than I thought possible. He has not been entirely himself these last two or three years together, and I find myself thankful he regained clarity in his last weeks; we could all say our goodbyes in peace with the man we love. His spirits were not unnaturally high nor miserable - he remembered his grandchildren, even our dear little girl - B and G's darling daughter - and doted upon her most sweetly. [there are a few lines here, blurred with water-damage and scratched over too many times to be made out] Oh, Jack- SA and I will not be long behind you, I believe. She is stronger than I, though, and I fear she will soon be alone; my hands - never truly recovered from the French - tremble and ache so fierce I have neglected my writings for many years, my breath rattles in my lungs. I am dying, my love, my loves; I will see you soon, if the Lord has any mercy in his heart for me. I think, perhaps, I have been dying since last night, joy. SA was so kind to give us an hour alone. You called me your soul, your dearest soul, Jack - you called me your love - and I knew you should never do so again; a part of me died to hear you name me such and know it was the final time. Farewell, my captain; give Diana my truest love, and tell her I shall see you both again in less time than it seems.

[otakween]

Digimon Data Squad (Savers) - Episode 19

Another lore episode, this one was kinda boring, ngl. I think I was also just tired when I watched it tho, so I won't judge too harshly. I did like the brotherly bonding going on between Masaru and Ikuto. Tohma was the one to get brushed to the side for once with Masaru and Yoshi taking Ikuto on a road trip. This is what I was asking for, so I'm pleased.

Notes:

This episode was very dialogue heavy. I barely got any screenshots because of all the subtitles (I try to avoid those). I didn't notice as many off model bits this time, so that's a step up.

We got some backstory about the Digital World Exploration Squad. (DWES? lol). It felt a little too vague, so I hope they plan on revealing more. I suppose we'll learn stuff from Ikuto's parents.

They did the dumb cartoon thing where Ikuto had his hair wrap as a newborn lol. Made me roll my eyes. I'm pretty sure we could figure out from context clues that it was Ikuto.

I was a little surprised by Ikuto's parents designs, they were very distinct. His dad is plus sized and shorter than his wife and the wife doesn't look like a generic anime mom either. Good job character designers 👍

As someone who has a systems related job, I felt bad for Tohma being forced to play IT guy for the whole episode lol

IDK about y'all but when I'm car sick, I'm pretty sure multiple hot dogs is not the solution. 🤢 (The non car sick me wants one tho)

Masaru simultaneously squabbling with and looking after Ikuto was nice big brother energy. And Yoshi was giving mom friend. (Although we barely see her interact with Ikuto which is a little disappointing).

When Lalamon was like "I'd love to take over driving but I'd be useless" I pictured what Lilamon would look like driving lol. I guess she'd be too big. Maybe Sunflowmon could drive tho? (In other words, I think Lalamon was making excuses >:/)

Ikuto's scream when Falcomon calls him a human was pretty intense in the sub. Made me think about what kind of psychological damage it would cause to have that sort of identity crisis. Boy needs major therapy.

The "no matter how you look at it you're human!" thing is kind of funny considering all the humanoid digimon out there. I guess those do have animalistic features though.

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

I like ur takes and I just wanted to share some stuff from another side. I watched spop as I was in my teen years, incredibly sheltered, queer, and lashing out because I was also dealing with abusive family dynamics. So… yeah I shipped it. I idealized it. And I heavily identified with Catra. But unlike with Zuko(who I also identify with) Catra didn’t change.

Every time she’d travel to a new part of the world I thought omg her moment is coming! Escape!! But she’d just get into a slap fight with Adora and then go back to the Horde. It was so strange it felt like every other character was in a story progression show and Catra was the villain of an episodic show until s5

And s5 was…. Weird. I don’t understand how Catra has a change of heart by getting more hurt by Horde Prime. She was getting hurt the whole series??? I still cried and was elated at the series finale but only bc I wanted an Adora who’d forgive me and love me and say I wasn’t bad. And I think a lot of people are like that.

Everything about the way Catra is framed points to her redemption even in the first episode… but it just makes me feel insulted now. To me as a survivor… it’s like they waved a magic wand and killed off the abuser and gave Catra a gf and that was supposed to fix it. It doesn’t work like that. My abuser died and it made things WORSE for a while (I think it would especially damage someone like Adora since Shadow Weaver “sacrificed” herself and therefore can’t be bad ever) . And I’m not looking for hyper realism in a Princess cartoon but at the time I watched it I couldn’t have really used yknow ?? Some guidance??? Something that wasn’t a fantasy lala ending that once the initial high wore off left me feeling confused and hollow. There is nothing in spop that teaches you how to get that kind of happy ending. Especially if you’re Catra who just says I love you and is suddenly resurrecting ponytail Jesus. To the me who identified with her, it was mostly about wanting to FEEL redeemed through her. FEELING strong and badass and GOOD and like things would be okay even if I was never a princess type. The actual result was feeling like I would never attain a happy ending of any sort because Catra’s didn’t feel real and her “arc” had no footsteps to follow in. How do you make a kids show and not teach good lessons??? Idk the show bad no matter who you identified with was my whole point.

At least I had/have zuko.

Also shipping zuko x sokka x suki is based I do too lmao.

first off, i'm so sorry about all the trauma you went through. i hope you are healing now, and thank you for sharing your story.

secondly, i think this is what a lot of fans felt. i can understand that people relate to catra. hell, even i relate to her a little. i know what it's like to be considered useless and weak, and to desperately want validation from a parent. i get it. when i say i dislike catra, it's not because she's a traumatized child or even because she adopted many of the toxic habits that shadow weaver portrayed. it's that she faced no consequences for any of this.

as much as spop tried to be mature, in the end, it was really childish. s5 got rid of all the complexity and just went "everyone deserves forgiveness", ignoring all of the glaring issues it had yet to solve. the protagonists forgave catra because the writers wanted them to, not because that's how it would have went down in real life.

most spop critics aren't heartless monsters who despise abuse victims, they are people who relate to either catra or adora. and they just want to see a better representation of abuse victims.

it would have been much more fulfilling and satisfying to have catra and adora take some time explore themselves and heal from their trauma, separated from each other. this kind of relationship is harmful for both of them. as long as adora is with catra, she'll continue blaming herself and putting pressure on herself, feeling as if she was responsible for everyone's problems. and as long as catra stays with adora, she'll continue deflecting her issues and being envious of adora. they needed time away from each other, but spop chose to invalidate trauma instead.

it's a pity that spop was one of the very few representation we had, at the time it came out, so people genuinely believe that c//a is a healthy ship, because they don't have many other examples to compare it to. i'm glad there are more and more queer shows coming out lately, and most of them seem to portray healthy relationships.

[box-off]

ok do it talk about tf2 and postal

You asked for it.

Okay, let's start with tf2. Tf2 is one of the best games EVER in my opinion, and it's not a really trustworthy one, but it's an opinion. I love everything from character design to the community to the game itself. The comics which make me want to explode from how well the character design goes both for 3d and 2d, and the silly world that the characters live in. It's like some kind of wonderland, but it's made for a fps gamer. The first thing that made me interested in tf2 was my friend talking about it, he sent me the "Meet the spy" video and a fan made animation. I remember seeing it and thinking "Wow, those guys look cool", and when I started learning more I REALLY wanted to play as scout (who I still main to this day). I obviously knew about tf2 before but never got too interested in it. But when I started playing oh wow it sucked me in. Tf2 made me have a big standard for character design, thanks to tf2 I never watched Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss (no matter how hard my friends tried to make me watch it), because oh how distracting those designs were for me. Whenever I think about good character design it's the tf2 mercs, they made me realize that the characters don't have to have 300 cool guns on them to point at the character and say "THIS GUY IS COOL!", you can make simple characters that are still catchy and easy to remember and recognize, and even get to understand their main purpose from just a glance. It's even better to make them simple in some cases! (In general valve games have good designs, but tf2 stands out a lot, at least for me). The game itself always makes me feel good, surprisingly it can be relaxing if you don't get too into the competitive mood and have the luck to get normal teammates. Yes, I might be a casual player, but I'm free. Don't get me started on the amount of playing styles tho. I'm not really good at them, I always go with scout, hop around and do my shit. I do play medic in MvM tho, I just really like to have a huge shield and be like "I'll protect you", idk, it's probably the furry alpha wolf speaking in me. But in normal game, oh what a blessing it is sometimes to have a really skilled demoknight, or a good rocket jumper in your team. Or a good spy who saves the day when the engineers build their nest right over the corner, or a medic that manages to heal everyone and not die 100 times in the process. I barely talk in chat in the game (because it's distracting), but know that if you play good and I'm in your team I'm thanking you constantly in my mind. Let me add that I joined the fandom when the bots where still there so I played with them a lot. Now that this is getting fixed it's even more fun! But I managed to fall in love with this half broken game and I'm sorry, that's a big fucking gold medal for a game, if it can still pull fans while being abandoned (hopefully that changes, but it's still impressive).

Now about Postal. I am edgy. Let me be real, if you saw my art you can probably tell that I do like myself some guts and blood from time to time. And I like humor, I like to laugh, to chuckle, to snicker if you will. So me liking Postal was just a matter of time. First game I played was Brain Damaged, and oh boy, the humor was good (even tho some things I missed because I didn't play the other games). As I got deeper into other games I was so IN. Those games are just so much FUN. I like fps games if you couldn't tell, and this? This is the fps game ever, it has some fun stuff to do, you of course can shoot, you can just walk around and explore in postal 2 and 4, and it's worth it! I love exploring those games, they always have some silly stuff here and there. And what they did well in Postal 4 is that they made you explore, they hid dolls, gnomes and all that stuff all over the map, and you can explore it, not just because, but you can actually get something for it. And let me be honest, Postal Dude? Hot. He's hot, and as a dirty stinky gay man myself I appreciate the representation. But jokes aside, HE'S A GOOD CHARACTER. I love him, it's interesting to watch what he does, to hear what he says, in all the games btw, yes, even postal 3. The character design again? Really well done. Postal Dude is simple, Postal Dude is cool, he's not your stereotypical "Cool guy who kills people with huge armor on" or "The buff guy who fights everyone with bare hands" (except Shtopor, that guy is fucking RIPPED.) When I look at Doomguy? I think "Damn, you're cool." when I look at Postal Dude?? I think "Damn man, you're probably stink", and you know what? THAT'S THE CHARM OF THIS CHARACTER. He sucks! You know where he sucks even more than in the game? The movie, and you have NO IDEA how much I love it. The movie is bad, like, not just because "it doesn't represent the characters as they are in the game" but because it's a bad movie. Just as a movie it's not really well done. But! I still love it. It's a movie that is fun to watch with your friends, you laugh at how bad it is, you just have a blast, at least me and my friends did. And I have the bluray disk, so I have the behind the scenes and all that cool stuff, and you know what? It made me like this shit even more. I really wish I could play more Postal with people, and not just that, I'm also waiting for Postal 4 co-op, and some of my friends getting the game as well. Because in my opinion Postal is that type of game that has to be shown to your friends in a "Hey guys, look at this stupid game I found, isn't it so random??" way. I talked a lot about Postals funny part, yes, but I do have to also mention that Postal 1 is rally good. And yes, postal redux is just Postal 1 with a bit better graphics, but I do like it in a way (mainly because of the better quality of the loading screens, because those are just so good. I really like the artistic part of this game). Funny postal? It's good, I love funny postal. But without creepy postal there wouldn't be some stuff in the funny postal that we like so much. Other Dude? The head wound making everything look strange? I don't really think we would have that in newer postal games without postal 1!

[duplicitywrites]

Thank you so much for replying to my other ask! I completely understand not wanting to revisit a fic you had wrote when you weren't doing the best, and I hope you're feeling better now! 🩷 I adore 'evermore' so much even though it's quite depressing aha 🥲 The way you wrote Harry's mental health and escapism was so good and Id love to hear some spoilers if you were up to it 😅

One thing I love about fanfic is the freedom of it all, and like you said "What is fanfic if not an ode to writing that felt unfinished?". Your interpretation of Harry as an abused child at his core in works like "damaged" always get to me. It always felt weird in the HP book series that Harry had such an awful childhood and was as well adjusted and happy in the future.

Another one of your works I was really interested in is 'perfect boys with their perfect lives', the Harry/Cedric aka a certain dark lord one. It really had me thinking about what could have happened in the graveyard if Harry hadn't escaped 🫣

i am, thanks! it was around covid, which was an awful time for everyone i'm sure, with weird life stuff piled on top of it.

i was going to answer all of the ones you mentioned, but evermore is actually one of few stories i have planned out in detail. this is why it has a planned chapter count (though that hasn't stopped me from going overboard before lol).

i guess i'll just give you the whole thing in case i never finish it kljsdgkljdgs it's pretty long, so under a cut it goes! but first some context for everyone else:

🍃 Evermore

Tags: Alternate Universe, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Manipulative Relationship, Infidelity, Past Child Abuse, Dream Sequences, Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Plot Twists, Happy Ending, Surprise Ending, Healing

Summary:

Harry is a married man who is living a charmed life. He has no need for the fantasy potions gifted to him by the Weasley twins—or so he thinks. After falling asleep on the train ride home, Harry dreams of the perfect man, a man named Tom Riddle. As Harry explores his dream life with Tom, he realizes that his actual life is not as charmed as it seems. The pristine image of his faultless marriage shatters, revealing a darker reality, and Tom Riddle becomes an oasis, a sanctuary for Harry to escape to. However, no sanctuary is eternal and no oasis is truly perfect. Harry must eventually confront his demons, inner and outer, before he can find real happiness for himself.

Notes:

these notes are arranged in order from where the most recently posted chapter left off.

there are probably some divergent points that occurred during the actual writing process, but this plan below (i'll admit i'm not quite brave enough to reread it all) is what the general storyline will be.

-

reality four - right where you left me

maybe harry's been harbouring fears of his potions being found? :thots: or his husband's made note of his changes in behaviour, accuses him of not spending time/being devoted

they get into an argument where harry gets a looooot of shit for stuff he doesn't deserve to get shit for, stuff that's not even true

harry yells back but gets hit, idk if by magic or not :thots: and he backs down, distraught. then once he's alone, he goes straight for the dream world

dream four - no body no crime

it'll be a much shorter version obviously, and the character roster won't be the same

i hadn't nailed down the specifics of the background and so i'm not sure how it'll look, exactly

harry is NOT married in this dream, he knows dream-husband but they are only friends

dream-husband is ginny's role in this particular iteration

but the climax of this scene is where harry is snooping around in the house, where he happens upon the dream-husband's diary

he's been looking for evidence to prove the murder

harry reads through the diary

and in the diary are tragic entries describing depressive thoughts, details of emotional (maybe even physical) abuse, etc.

this is a pivotal moment for harry, who up until this moment has been in denial about the failings of his real life marriage

reading this in the framing of it happening to someone else is enough for him to realize that it's wrong

what happens to him is not okay

but of course it's not that easy to just, shrug off years of marriage all at once; harry once again exits the dream, thus ending that particular dream universe

he's partly in denial but it's not as bad as before

he's been using the dreams as a coping mechanism up until this point

i've made it sound kind of frustrating but the dream worlds that harry goes to are meant to be very lush, romanticized

while we realize that harry's dream worlds are not ideal, he doesn't realize it right away

he thinks he's still doing something wrong

reality five - coney island

uh so next is probably another real life scene which shows tension between harry and his husband, only harry is no longer acting the way he did before aka accepting things without question

after the dream, harry starts to... notice things. he picks up on the slights, on the manipulative behaviours. he doesn't argue back for most of it, because he's still figuring it out and he's in shock, but he does start acting differently, which is noted by his husband

it escalates things further, a landslide of 'harry is no longer listening to me, is no longer under my control' type of deal where it results in more attempts to manipulate, which harry now sees is bad

voldemort grew addicted to power, made deals with politicians, gained a following

he looks back on past events and picks out the red flags, realizes that his marriage is not a marriage of equals. but just because harry knows these things, doesn't mean he knows what to do. he goes back to the dream world for comfort/answers

dream five - cowboy like me

this one is 'cowboy like me'

harry is there with his husband staying at a hotel, they happen across dream-husband, who is a con artist attempting to swindle an older woman

either harry is also a con artist in a similar vein, or he is mistaken for one - i'll probably decide once it's written out and i get a sense of the vibe

but he and dream-husband have some interesting conversations, flirting, etc

the theme of this dream i think will be further strengthening the similarities between harry and the dream-husband he's made up in his head

this dream ends with a bittersweet farewell

something along the lines of, despite their attraction for each other, they must part ways? :thots: or some other thing

but there will be a bit of a cheeky 'see you soon'

aka referencing the fact that it's a dream/dream world, that the dream-husband is a recurring character in harry's mental space

reality six - happiness

harry's down to two vials now, the bittersweet farewell of dream five has him realizing that time is running out in the metaphorical sense; we understand that soon he will need to make a choice

i might loop back to infidelity at this point, maybe in an attempt to bring harry to heel, his husband starts flaunting an affair? :thots: cause in the past, flirting with other people probably worked to make harry upset and easily manipulated

but y'know now harry is armed with his brand new knowledge of Marriage Should Not Be Like This and also he's got some shiny self-worth stored up, courtesy of dream-husband

dream six - ivy

in this dream world, harry is married to his current husband, but he is having an affair with the dream-husband; not in the sexual sense, but in the emotional sense. drawing on the dream five, harry is seeking comfort and solace from his bad marriage

this dream is meant to remove more of harry's doubts and encourage him to see that his current situation is bad

and i imagine we start to break through the fourth wall; dream-husband speaks directly to harry, referencing real life events that have occurred

he encourages harry to leave

harry is doubtful, obviously. this is all he's known and he's been gaslighted, manipulated, mistreated

he's terrified he will be found out and punished for it

but the dream-husband reassures him, promises him that things will be okay, etc.

he makes harry promise to take care of himself

and i'm thinking in true romantic sense, maybe they spend the night together? :thots:

reality seven - closure

we solidify that harry deserves better, that what has happened is not his fault, etc all the important, healthy things

we have harry reaching out to the people that have been slowly pushed out of his life (mostly by his husband). he’s reconnecting with them, being healthier, i think this section would end with harry going to ron and hermione and telling them the truth, telling them everything

harry is down to his last vial, so he's been saving it

like, he could obviously go and get more, they would give it to him for free, even, but you know it's kind of like

he shouldn't have to rely on that as a coping mechanism any more

dream seven - evermore

i'm thinking harry goes for one last dream, they sit together outside(?) or somewhere else that has significance for harry

they hold hands, harry talks about how much the support has meant to him, what he's learned about himself, what these dreams have taught him

sometimes things don't work out

he knows he needs to walk out and move on

i'll probably cry writing all this so you know it'll be good

the end - it’s time to go

then like i mentioned before, there will be a scene of harry signing divorce papers. his friends are with him, telling them they support him, and he feels... relief. he feels hope.

the story ends with harry attending a party, this time by his own decision. he's here to genuinely mingle with people, with his friends, and have a good time

and then he sees someone

much like the previous dream, it's someone who he once knew

they talk, they catch up, but this time it doesn't feel odd or uncomfortable

harry feels secure with himself, and we end on the hopeful note that this could go somewhere good