#It would break the very core of how I view them

[ask-miasma-ghoul]

The anger in Miasma's face slowly gave way to shock, and then silent despair. Although Jim couldn't look him in the eyes, his own stayed glued to Jim's.

He finally backed off soon after Jim finished with that heartbreaking sentence. He sat upright silently, moving to let his legs rest off the side of the bed, staring at the Bible he had thrown across the room. His tail wasn't wagging, nor was it swishing in anger. It just laid there beside Jim.

"... I think... " Miasma murmured.

"... I... Am the type that I have always hated... The ones who dont listen to anyone else's point of view because it doesn't match their own. Religious. Not faithful... My faith is there... But it is outweighed by my hate. And I did not realize it until I am face to face with you."

Miasma stood up and walked towards Jim's Bible and notebook, picking it up and dusting it off. The pages were bent, and it hurt Miasma to look at it and know he did that. He sat back down, this time away from Jim, putting the book next to him.

"Jim... I... Yes. My anger stems from... Jealousy. Envy. Greed... I am honest when I tell you I hate that you are finding your comfort in someone that will lead you astray. It breaks my heart and... It's not just because I'm... In love with you. I want you to have a better afterlife than me. I don't think you will find it with him. But... If you can sit here and tell me that the way he makes you feel is more of a priority than what comes next... I can't... Do anything about it. I wish you could feel how I feel. Maybe you would understand why it drives me to such anger."

"I did not know that when I started calling you, it made you feel good. I didn't think you'd care about what I would have to say. I treated you like my savior, and what savior would notice one insignificant little smudge like me? There are probably hundreds out there who feel you have saved them. I don't know whether I think too highly of you or I think too lowly of you, but either way... I'm sorry. It is about faith, not religion, and I am wrong to treat you and talk to you based on your title and not you as a human, especially when I am always the one lecturing others about that."

Miasma swallowed the lump in his throat, his tail coming around to lay in his own lap as if he were trying to take up as little space as he possibly could.

"It truly boils down to how I feel about you. On a personal level. I didn't think you would know what I was saying. You are smarter than you look... Hah..."

Miasma blushed again, but it was not the same giddy and nervous blush he had before. It was a blush that scorched him to his very core. He wanted it to go away.

"... If you are with him... You will be around here often. And that hurts me... To see you with him... But... Maybe we can just have our Bible studies. Unless you don't want to be around me anymore, I... Guess I understand that too."

With everything that had been going on at the beginning of Jim's stay, it was difficult for him to sleep fully. And it proved to be a rational struggle, because the sound of shuffling slowly grew closer until it was right outside Copias door.

There was a gentle tap at first, and then a long drag to the bottom of the door.

Another piece slipped under the small crack st the bottom. Who could that possibly be?

This time it read simply:

"Open up."

Considering the last interaction with the ghoul, it was a risk opening the door. Who knows what he was planning to do... So early in the morning when everyone was sleeping...

Jim sighed and walked over to Copia’s dresser, slipping on the first button up he saw. He didn’t bother to button it up, he just wanted to feel a little more put together.

He walked over to the door, glancing over at Copia sound asleep before opening it just a crack.

“What do you want…” Jim mumbled, feeling tired. He couldn’t quite see outside the room. “Make it quick. And quiet, I don’t want to wake him up.”

[in-the-undercroft]

The way they go from:

Ominis: Opening the entrance has something to do with threes-

Sebastian: Well-three heads are better than one.

Ominis: It's two heads are better than one.

Sebastian: And by that logic, three is better than two. Simple mathematics, Ominis.

TO

Sebastian: I-I can't think right now. I need to leave. I can't stay here. I need to find Ominis.

Sebastian: No matter what happens from here, I'm glad we met

Ominis: I don't want to lose Sebastian, but I don't think we have a choice. (MC: We do have a choice.)

Ominis: Whatever lies ahead, we must face it together, that I know.

Is both heartbreaking and beautiful. Like they fell apart(HARD and Sebastian did something terrible) over the winter months but it was in those newly formed pieces, I feel like, that Sebastian, Ominis, and MC realized just how much they needed each other and wherever they went, it would be together. Because they had all started this together-three was stronger than two. Two friends, old or new. And they would end it together. They would make sure they would be okay again. Because none of them can be okay without the other two. Not now that they know-that the other two exists, what their lonely life is like full of the joy of these two boys. Not now that the duo knows that their missing piece wasn't Anne but this new student. To soothe their gaps.

And the last quote is why I feel so firmly that they stick together post game as at least best friends. Combined with the three is better than two, this I truly feel comfy OT3ing them. Like as default. It's just acknowledged that they're better together together than apart and they'll pick up the pieces from the nightmare that was the night Solomon died together.

Idk it just makes sense???? Like if there was ever a reason I didn't Sim with them it's because poly is still very iffy in the Sims and just a headache.

[marsprincess889]

Vedic astrology observations

Part 5

Some interesting takes in this one��

Ketu nakshatras, while having the ability to access the core of situations, also are the most likely to be deluded, due to the naturally tamasic nature of Ketu. For example, they might say something that is technically true but follow it up with examples and arguments that are straight up false, and they'll defend those incorrect details aggressively. It's not like they choose ro be ignorant, it's just much harder for them to break out of what they were clinging to, it's like an inability to see past falsehoods in details. Rahu has the ability to get those details right, but they might be hollow and devoid of substance. People influenced by either of these planets(rahu or ketu nakshatras in big three) often have this kind behavior: pushing their point while not seeing the whole picture, but in opposite ways.

Jupiter nakshatra women can have a mean streak. People say that about mars nakshatras but jupiter women specifically might have repressed anger that can be hard to contain and is often released in situations that have little to do with the true reason of their rage. They're very aware of this, unlike ketu nakshatras they're pretty self-aware, but they still have to deal with trying to balance their giving nature and their repressed anger during a lot of their life. I do have to say that anger becomes more obvious as you go through nakshatras in the chronological order. Punarvasus might be "catty" about it, Vishakhas can be really confrontational and aggressive, P.Bhadrapadas have that devil-may-care attitude towards it.

Venus women are the most likely to try to maintain peace around them. They are very discerning and fierce on the inside but they hate to show that side of themsleves and all that passion is chanelled through love, beauty, art and enjoyment. With other people, they're extremely private but polite. They never show dislike by directly confronting, but they make sure to minimize any engagement with them as much as possible. With Bharani and Purva Phalguni, it's rarely personal. Purva Phalguni especially is almost never concerned with others, they're very self-focused, but Purva Ashadha is the one out of three to become confrontational. Still, their confrontation is very different from Martian, Rahuvian, Ketuvian, Jupiterian or Solar confrontation. Bharanis are the most private and heavy on the boundaries. All of them will quietly judge and take notes before they even consider direct confrontation.

Moon women, although not exclusive like Venus, have this quietly demanding nature. They are the most likely to sulk/hurt in silence for a while before bringing any issue up. Interesting thing that I've noticed is that Venus dominant and Moon dominant women rarely get along. The exception would be Purva Ashadha and Shravana women, I'd say they get along extremely well. Maybe also Hasta and Bharani, but that one is rarer. Lunar femininity is based on receptivity and nurture, Venusian femininity is based on exchange and enjoyment. I can't explain it but there's this weird tension between them where they're both aware that their views and priorities in "feminine" matters are very different. Moon might quietly resent Venus's exclusive nature and view her as a competitor, because Venus does not immediately give to and worship lunar energies. Venus will dislike Moon's "overly" dependant nature that is nurturing to everyone, and might view it as smothering.

Revatis have a very interesting sense of humor. They're the true comedians that base their humor on "silliness". They do it simply for entertainment and rarely, if ever, to bring up current events in politics or trendy topics. Revati is more Ketuvian than Rahuavian (Ketu is the ruler of Pisces) and so they know how to mind their own business. With humor, even if they make fun of others, it's almost as if they're universally making of fun of everyone similar to them. It's more universal, rarely singling someone out with the intention of calling them out. Often if they make fun of one person, they'll also make fun everyone else, including themselves. Of course, there are exceptions in specific intances, but their worldview is what I just described above.

Nakshatras with yoni animals that are physically strong have an air of dignity and regality. Elephant, Buffalo, Cow/Bull and maybe even Lion yonis(although they are much less likely to be this way in tense situations) fall into this. They all embody those traits in very different ways. To put it simply, Elephant yonis are very level-headed, careful and peaceful, although strong instinctually. Buffalo yonis are very neutral and placid. Cow/Bull yonis are soft and reliable and Lion yonis are bold and unashamed.

Wanted this to be longer but it's not bad! Let me know what you think, interact💕

Take care🤍

[citronverveine]

when you think about it, tgcf really wouldn’t have the same impact if xie lian didn’t cultivate through abstinence.

it’s funny because it’s not even relevant to the core of the plot itself; xie lian never uses his cultivation as a reason to stay away from hua cheng. he only reminds the reader of it when he drinks wine, which is pretty irrelevant anyway. but if it doesn’t impact his relationship with hua cheng then it must serve another purpose, otherwise it wouldn’t be here, because things in fiction don’t exist just for the sake of existing.

xie lian abstaining from earthly pleasures fits into the narrative of control, expectations, and divinity, the transcendance of his mortal body.

xie lian’s goal, very early on, is to become a god. and what are gods? above mortals. or that’s what everyone thinks, but not xie lian, not entirely at least. xie lian views godhood as a means to serve the people, not being above them. this is why he doesn’t think kneeling before gods is right, and why he doesn’t want his believers to kneel.

obviously, very few people agree with him and tell him how his godhood should be, even his own believers who think it’s stupid to not kneel before a god.

xie lian always saw godhood as a tool, and his body as a tool to reach godhood. xie lian is self-sacrificing in nature, and even if at first he doesn’t really know how much it takes, it reaches extremes once he is forced to self-sacrifice for a hundred people at once.

during that time, xie lian’s body and autonomy was taken from him. “this is what you want? then take it.” it makes it seem as though it was his choice. he wanted to help, so he got to help, he should be happy, right?

i often wondered why xie lian didn’t just say to hell with it and broke his cultivation through his eight hundred years of banishment. not once, as far as we know, does he willingly break it completely and irreversibly, even though he is shackled, even though he doesn’t even actively cultivate anymore.

i think it’s about control. during that time xie lian had very little control over his life.

godhood is about repressing your human traits. when he was a god, xie lian was asked not to care, not to intervene, not to help. he was asked to sit back and watch as his people suffered, as his kingdom threatened to fall. he couldn’t.

that’s why he couldn’t be a god. he realized that himself after almost releasing the resentful spirits on Yong’an. he ascended and asked to get bannished once again. all of what he did was too human, from start to finish, and he would never be fit for a god.

his cultivation was the third and last shackle, self-imposed from the start. the first shackle bound his spiritual power, the second his luck, and the third one his cultivation, asking him to repress his humanity.

this is why it’s important that xie lian makes the choice of breaking his cultivation for hua cheng. it’s an obvious choice when you understand all of this. hua cheng gave xie lian his autonomy back by letting him be himself and making his own choices, and trusting him with them. never did he doubt xie lian, never did he tell him what to do, even when he had his own opinion on the matter. hua cheng lets xie lian be. while supporting him through it all. he’s always behind him, no matter what happens, no matter whether xie lian does good or bad, he’ll always be there to catch him regardless of what he does, because he is there for who he is. he’s xie lian. he’s human. it doesn’t matter that he’s a god, a prince, a scrap collector, a curse.

and because xie lian has finally found someone who accepts him as a whole, can he finally let himself be whole and let go of the control he has on his body. he doesn’t have to hold back. he doesn’t have to try. he can indulge. he can be human. he can want. he can love. he can hurt. he can cry. he can laugh.

tl;dr: xie lian, once aware he has someone that will accept him, the whole of him, can finally let go of any artificial control on his self to fit in what the world expects of him

[inbabylontheywept]

Would you mind sharing the psalm and why you felt that person was the most humanist Mormon? I'm not religious at all but I find these sort of things very interesting.

In exchange I could offer the reason for my url ?

I'm warning you, this is kind of a mega essay, and it's fucking unhinged. Click at your own risk.

(Alright. You clicked.)

Psalms 137

By the rivers of Babylon we sat and wept

when we remembered Zion.

There on the poplars

we hung our harps,

for there our captors asked us for songs,

our tormentors demanded songs of joy;

they said, “Sing us one of the songs of Zion!”

How can we sing the songs of the Lord

while in a foreign land?

If I forget you, Jerusalem,

may my right hand forget its skill.

May my tongue cling to the roof of my mouth

if I do not remember you,

if I do not consider Jerusalem

my highest joy.

Remember, Lord, what the Edomites did

on the day Jerusalem fell.

“Tear it down,” they cried,

“tear it down to its foundations!”

Daughter Babylon, doomed to destruction,

happy is the one who repays you

according to what you have done to us.

Happy is the one who seizes your infants

and dashes them against the rocks.

———

Mormonism has layers. Different cores of believers, cultures within itself. The largest group of Mormons also dominate its image within the larger culture. You know them as the nerdy, cheerful, bubbly dorks on South Park, or the hopelessly naive childlike weirdos from the Book of Mormon musical. Strangely sanitized, "wholesome" people that are, clearly, unwhole. Missing some essential part of the human experience.

(Pain, maybe?)

I think that embracing this image is letting Mormonism view itself as what it wishes it was. A group with all its rough edges sanded off, all its raw and desperate humanity scrubbed away. A clean and godly and slightly unsettling image of joy.

That isn't how it started.

Now, most people know the story of Joseph Smith. Fourteen year old farm boy starts a cult because the whole world if full of idiots, I won't repeat it because you've probably already got it from South Park. But at some point that weirdo cult did become a religion, and I would point to that moment as the Mormon War of 1838.

I don't know how far after the founding that was. Enough that Joseph Smith was a grown man. Enough that the Mormons had around 15-25 thousand members. They'd moved to the Illinois-Missouri area and were establishing settlements.

(They creeped the locals out. Of course they creeped the locals out.)

Eventually, they got pushed out of the county they'd claimed. Jackson County, it was. The state couldn't actually take that county from the people that expelled them, so to try and make the Mormons "whole" for the land they'd bought (ignoring the houses and farms they'd already set up) it gave them a new county.

Next election that came around, that county was sieged. Voting was blocked. Now, the people of the state were terrified that this weirdo voting block was going to take them over. They probably weren't wrong. Some former Mormons had straggled in from the county revealing a frankly corrupt land dealthat the early church had used to transfer resources to itself, and that served as a tipping point. To prevent their state from becoming a religious basketcase, a mob sieged the Mormon county during the next election.

The state tried to return order by sending the militia in to break up the siege, but the militia mutinied. They joined the siegers. A ground of strange, extremist violent Mormons known as the Danites rode out and attacked local settlements that were known to house the families of the militia members.

The Governor at the time - Lilburn Boggs - sent out an executive decree. The Mormons were traitors, and were to be killed on sight. It is the only religion in the US to have ever had such an order made against it.

The Mormons surrendered their county and went to Nauvoo, Illinois. There were again expelled from that city in 1846, and traveled west.

They died in great numbers and they never forgot the homes they lost.

———

I tried to tell the story as sympathetically to the people of Missouri as I could. The Mormons made messes wherever they went, and they unsettled everyone they interacted with. But they were attacked as well, and had a history of violence against them. It should not be totally surprising that they became insular and strange.

Many (most?) Mormons that learn all of their history wind up leaving the religion. It has twists and turns and knots and it is incredibly, overwhelmingly human. I think that's where the facade of Mormon perfectionism comes from - the shame of that. The desire to be something else. But being human is all I've ever wanted. And occasionally, there are people faithful in the church - layers upon layers deep - that know their history.

And they are angry about it.

I think it's more common than people realize. Did you know that until 1930 Mormons swore literal religious oaths of vengeance against the US government for the deaths of Joseph and Hyrum Smith?

I always felt like these were, in some way, the real Mormons. They knew their history, and they loved their church, and they hated what it had suffered all those years ago.

They scared me, those people. But they seemed complete. More complete than the people that had carved out everything that didn't make them smile. They'd walked into the mirror, and touched their shadow, and danced with. Melded with it.

And I knew a few like that. I was taught by one. And he didn't convince me, but he interested me. Gave me some respect for the people I left behind.

———

In the game Fallout: New Vegas, there is a character named Joshua Graham. He's a Mormon. Not like the silly children in adult bodies that they always use on TV. He has gravitas. He has put away his moral compass before, to pursue the dream of one powerful man. Poured his soul into it, helped that man conquer the whole west in piecemeal. He's a somewhat on the nose analogy of the Mormon people themselves, following Joseph Smith. And when he finally failed, when he fought a battle he could not win on the gates of the Old World Hoover Dam, he was lit on fire and thrown into the Grand Canyon to die.

But he did not die.

He says he survived because the fire in him burned brighter than the fire around him. And it seems that way when you speak with him in game. There is something compellingly bright to him. Not shiny like a new toy, or a Utah teenager that hasn't seem just how grim the world can be. He's something blinding, compelling.

But that brightness casts shadows.

He is vicious. He was saved in the canyon by the family he left, the old Mormons of a new world. And he's trying to find that part of him again, regain the soul he lost pursuing someone else's vision. But that old vicious animal part of the covenant is with him. I see Joshua Graham and I see the animal that the Mormons became to survive the West.

And in the game, there is eventually a choice given.

You can lead the tribe Joshua has joined up with out of their Zion. Their Jackson County Missouri. Peacefully and perfectly and inhumnanly transcendant, the way the Mormons wish they actually were about everything. You can give him the chance to be what Mormonism has always wished it could be. Or you can fight with them and help them reclaim their paradise, but get your hands stuck deep in the muck of this world.

Joshua Graham knows his history. He knows all the homes his people lost. And whatever brightness he's trying to regain, whatever soul he's trying to win back from the world that takes and takes and takes and takes - he wants to give it all up again to let these people keep their home.

He knows his past and he is angry.

And as the player, you help him make peace with one of two things: Being human by being fallen, or keeping his soul at the cost of reliving the ancestral trauma of losing Zion yet again.

Both were pretty visceral decisions for a Mormon teenage Babylon to make.

(Tagging @boonebignaturals in this because I need a witness to my madness.)

[professional-jaywalker]

Avian Expectations

A small essay about the difference between the pop culture Bird and being a bird.

Being a bird is probably one of the most romanced identity. Being a bird means nothing, behavior wise, scientifically. Yet, being a bird portrays something very specific into people's mind.

Being a bird is freedom. It's effortless flight, belonging to the realm of air and never wanting to touch ground again. Being a bird is adventure, migration. A good half of movies about birds are about overcoming the thrilling dangers of going over entire continents in one year, the reward of seeing an exotic haven far from the cold. Sometimes, being a bird is being a strange endearing critter, voice mimicry, stealing shiny things, cuddling up and preening one's flock. Other times, being a bird is a sharp beak and sharper claws and being the Predator from Above, undefeated in the heights.

I've seen a lot of people question birds with that idea of a bird in mind. And, clearly, it can be true. One bird I know is migratory to her very core, the pull of Africa leading her to travel, irresistible. Another deeply intertwined with the drop of gravity as it's ultimate strength, entire biology built to master it.

But I cannot relate to people who go into questioning bird from the perspective of the Pop Culture Bird Homonculus, of this chimera of all the Cool Bird Traits. It seems like a fictional character to me, without all the little details that make being a bird real. Perhaps it is because I break all of these core traits.

I do not fly well, I glide when I must, and more often I run. I much prefer the ground. I am not migratory, and one part of being a roadrunner to me is Territory, and Surviving winter. I've never had the luxury of fleeing the cold, as much as i dislike it. I do not mimic all that much, I am solitary, I hunt by running along the grass. Barely bird, in the eye of the Being a Bird rules.

Rules say, then, i should not relate to being a bird. perhaps being a roadrunner for me would be akin to coyotes. Perhaps it would be akin to cats. But no, i do in fact relate to birds.

As it turns out, there is still a strong difference, for me, between the Being A Bird non-birds imagine and the actual one. I don't fly, i glide, i struggle to get to heights. A heavy sea eagle responded, saying how they felt flight as tool, from perch to perch, to scan for prey, too costly to waste in play.

I say that i hunt on foot, that i do not relate to the dive of the kestrel or the flight of the swift. A burrowing owl answer; saying they too prefer hunting grasshoppers from their height, sometimes perching but often just lurking around the grass.

I say i am alone, i do not have a flock, and a heron responds, why should you ? You are fine on your own.

I have met flightless cormorants, I have met penguins. On the contrary, I have met falcons, I have met corvids. The shapes of birdhood shift and change, but in the end, I tend to find someone for each things, be it bird like or not. Bird is a wide ground. Bird is a simplification, so that others can understand a flawed but easy view.

I am not A Bird, by pop culture definition. Yet i am very much a bird who relates to beings extremely far from me, behaviorally. honestly there's a point of no explanation. I share phantom feathers with them and beaks, but i couldn't be further from a hummingbird. It's a strange conundrum. So close yet so far, every species that talks about it. always slivers of Me-Truth, always things i just gloss over. a bird is not an animal, its a concept. i wish people would take that in account more before diving in it.

[that-weird-thing-in-the-woods]

~{ You all know what time it is! This is inspired by This Post and ask from dcxdpdabbles! But of course I but my own stuff on it but I don’t take the OG idea just my stuff to add now onto the post! }~

Doll Danny

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Danny was just talking with his parents, after finding out about him they started to change their views on ghost as a hole and they changed their weapons to not fire at him and with a bit less stress of having to worry if he’s going to get shot at in his sleep his grads have gone up a bit not to where they were before but a good start so right now Danny life is good

Until the G.I.W breaks down the door and starts shouting and shooting at them his parents immediately start to shoot back to protect their kids even if it cost them their life’s while this is happening jazz and Danny hit the deck before Jazz grabs him and runs down stairs while trying to not get shot at as they get down the stairs Jazz starts up the portal to get out of there but a couple of the attackers follow them and badly wound Danny and kill Jazz but not before she pushes Danny into the portal and destroys it on both sides

He falls into ally..? Never mind that he needs to find something to help his core, one of G.I.W got a lucky shot before he went through the portal and his body is literally about to give out if he can’t find something soon and fast ~{ Think of it like the Gems from Steven universe but for ghost I don’t like the show but the concept i’m chill with }~

Thats when he sees it, A Porcelain doll it has mid length slightly wavy black hair and painted icy blue eyes, the doll’s sculpted face is a mix between sad and calm and the little black dress on it is a bit dirty and has been ripped up mostly likely due to a kid finding scissors and with some of the cracks in the legs ( conveniently where he was injured :) ) but one of the best parts of it is the hollow chest cavity that has some fluffing inside but has enough space for his core to be properly protected and secure

So Danny puts his core inside and takes over the doll a the first week it is a bit difficult to get used to being so small ( oh how lucky he is that he can float the himself places ) and not being seen by people, he still hasn’t found anything to cover up the bit of his core showing from though the ripped up clothes but it would make sense since it’s a doll outside and stuff

But while Danny was sitting on a roof just enjoying the cold weather is when he hears it a child’s voice coming from behind him so he looks back [ Not turning his head not really wanting a child to start yelling about a moving doll thank you very much ]

He sees a tall man…bat? Whatever and a child who looks to be about 11-10 in age and wearing one of the ugliest clothes he has ever seen and… is the child wearing short-shorts?!? In Gotham while Danny is thinking of ways to get the child at least pants the child sees him first and walk over and picks him up and starts talk to the bat-man about taking him with them and things like that and eventually the bat-man says yes and the child smiles at him and hugs him close to them.

****************************************

Jason is very glad that night he found Danny happen if not he’s live would have been very different.

When he took Danny home the first thing he did was clean him up with Alf’s help and put cut up to the dolls size bandages on the cracks and got rid of the ripped and cut dress the doll was wearing and Alf found a box of doll clothes from one of B’s old family members in the attic and now that the doll was all cleaned up Jason walked around the manner to show him everything around the manner

The doll was there for him when Bruce and Dick would fight so loud he could sleep.

The doll was there for him when he found out about his real mom.

The one time the doll wasn’t there was when he went to see his real mother.

The doll was there when he was in the grave and dig himself out with his belt buckle out of said grave.

The doll was there when he got out of the league of assassins and when he started his work as Red hood.

And even now he and the Doll where never far away from the other, Jason never left the Doll far from him and not like Danny would leave his side for long

The point still stands that if you have Jason the Doll is not far behind.

==========================

*Danny’s Dress and appearance *

*Danny’s Face*

*Danny’s dress* ~{ yes it is in Jason colors }~

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~{ And that’s it for this post! I hope you guys like it, this come from seeing this dress and the post in the beginning anyway see you gremlins soon byeeee }~

[yourlazykitkat]

Joel's celestial symbol being a car isn't complete crack and actually might be a good idea.

In Fast and Furious franchise, one of movies' climax have the characters strap jetpacks to a car which is strapped to a military aircraft in which two characters drive off and are sent into orbit. Yes this is thing that happens and yes, it somehow does perfectly capture the narrative of joel's victory and what it brings to the celestial symbolism.

I have never watched the fast and furious movies, all i know about this franchise is this scene and that it's about family and that's all you really need to know. But still, i shall yap.

The Fast and Furious movies are a perfect intertextual lens to view the Wild Life season and Joel's victory. The franchise has two highlights to it: the fucking spectacle and the interpersonal relationships. Did I enjoy the mechanics of wild life? Not particularly but I enjoyed the spectacle; the rush of I don't know what the fuck is going on but I'm here for the ride. Did I enjoy the storylines? There won't many clear and strong storylines this season as much as there were ever-resonating character beats that I ate up like it was the last supper. (JUST LIKE IN FAST AND FURIOUS)

Pearl and Scott reluctant allies and healing, BigB and Cleo healing, Etho's slut arc, Bamboozlers overcoming their character's persistent struggle with loneliness together, whatever the fuck treebark is doing, pearl picking her champion in impulse, grian losing his two wings. DESERT DUO DIVORCE ARC IS OVER? OMG DESERT DUO DIVORCE ARC IS BACK ON. Bad boys finally kill scott, shinyduo situtionship (going insane over them- i can't wait for more of them), tango and bdubz as angry wives and of course: The family.

Gem and Joel's alliance was the most stable alliance in the season. We made jokes about the 4Gs as they became the 5,6-7 Gs. They never knew who they truly could trust. Mumbo and skizz' paranoia might of been a joke but grian's curse did wipe them out in the end, martynn has forever ruined any trust in future alliances after limited life (especially given how he planned to betray ren in third life...) so i did not have any faith in treebark lasting. I don't need to explain tuff boys, etho was cheating on them to their faces and bamboozlers came close but any bamboozler fan will tell you how anxious they were that something would ruin a group. Look at Timmy on the high that he could finally win and break the curse, always running off carelessly. Scar, who was so desperate to win grian's favour that he was spilt between him and bamboozlers. Lizzie, who wanted to do anything but die alone but multiple times in the series, could not find her boys.

But gem and joel were always there for each other, their trust and love in the each other displayed for the whole server to see in the centre of the map (the most dangerous part). Not only did it help each other, they solidified so many other alliances that were shaky for so long (adopting grian when he's alone coz no one deserves to be alone, giving the Gs a common enemy to unite against, "we are bamily"). This perfectly encapsulates the fast and furious thematic core, we have no idea what' going on but we'll make our last stand together.

Very long-winded post, might come back later to fix it (i haven't had the chance to explore joel specifically and what this victory means for him) but even though it ruins the celestial aesthetic, the car for joel is so perfect. If u need it all celestial, the shooting star works pretty well in adjacent but it's so perfect for the wildest, most scuffed season to ruin the aesthetic of the life series BUT STILL BE THEMATICALLY COHERENT.

I have my complaints for this season and it did take me a while to decide how i wanted to approach the narrative of this season. Genuinely the more i think about it, the more i love the season.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Just Friends (König x F!Reader)

How to Get Her Back 4/4 (Word count 7.3 k)

Summary: König is a horny, creepy killing machine obsessed with a shy, kind reader who has a raging knife kink.

Tags/warnings: 🔞 Eventual smut, eventual violence, angst, dark romance, canon divergence. Crack treated seriously. Yandere undertones, implied stalking, panty stealing, major character death, size kink, voyeurism, possessive sex, twisted, fluffy feelings. Loner boy/gentle girl dynamic. Protective!Obsessive!Top!König. Reader works as a cleaner at the base. She is described to have hair and prefers to wear dresses off work. Not safe or sane but mostly consensual.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The knife still juts from the table.

She touches it often, fondles the handle like it's her lover.

Days pass, and König escapes her stare with raised shoulders and poorly disguised hurt in his eyes. She feels his eyes on her every single time she's not looking.

He breaks into her room every night, but she never wakes up to his presence. The only thing that tells her the man's been there are the fresh flowers on her table next to the knife.

He brings her flowers every morning, just like he promised, and she keeps the blade there to remind him that he's still in her heart. It's like a silent conversation, and it stabs her stomach full of pain.

On the fourth day, he returns her panties. They're covered in dried cum, and at first, it makes her feel disgusted. Then her heart flutters, a warm feeling settles deep inside her stomach when she imagines him jerking himself off to her underwear amidst his knives, with despair and longing coating the air.

For anyone else, it might be a chilling thing to wake up to: to open eyes to the sight of a brutal tactical knife, freshly picked forget-me-nots and some cum-stained lace. But for her, it's a loving attempt to remind her who she belongs to. It's also a sign that the man is trying to let her go and finally obey her wishes to be left alone.

And she doesn't want to be left alone.

He promised she would never be alone.

On the fifth day, there's no flowers, there's nothing. She starts her day with a horrible, awful bawl. Then she puts on a black dress. It makes her look odd, like she's in mourning, but it also gives her… power, somehow. Even if it's another cute kind of cotton babydoll dress, it makes her look more austere.

“König, wait.”

She chases him down this time: runs to his retreating form that stops the instant she calls his name. He’s tense when she walks the last steps to him and hugs him from behind. The familiar scent of tea tree and gasoline and sweat and guns bring a visceral memory of madness to her mind. It’s an ambrosia of crude virility, and she's missed him, God, that she's missed him.

It's also safety. Because no matter what anyone says, he is the only one who knows her, sees her, sees right into her core, her very soul.

He slowly places a hand on hers, the arms that embrace his narrow, treelike middle.

"Engel…"

The voice comes out tight and strained. He caresses her hand with hesitation and swallows.

"I'm confused.. I don't know what you want me to do."

"Come with me," she whispers in his back. He has no gear on, and she can feel his abs through the black shirt, the way his shoulder blades flare against her cheek with shallow breaths. "If you want…?"

"Ganz sicher."

She takes him by the hand and guides him to her room. People look at them with pity and dread, and she feels like they’re in high school where people were divided into groups of popular and unpopular.

She knows where she and König would’ve belonged. Where they belonged now…

And she just doesn't care anymore.

When the door to her room shuts behind him, she feels a little tug near her heart. She had nearly forgotten how big König looks inside her little room, the space she has tried to turn into a cozy home even though she doesn't view the base as her home like the soldiers do. It's just a place for her to reside in when she's working.

But he does not fit into a normal society like she does. The base must be the closest thing to a home for him. Not every elite soldier is a lunatic perhaps, but König certainly couldn't find any other job in the modern world that would cater to his needs without sending him behind bars.

But he was supposed to kill only in the field. Only somewhere far, far away.

Why did you do it?

Why…?!

That's what she meant to ask when they're behind closed doors, but something quite different comes out instead.

"Did you miss me…?"

She stands before him, holding her hands in front of her, looking probably quite silly clad in black.

"I've been in hell ever since I left, Engel."

Christ have mercy…

Normal men just didn't talk like that.

"Will you forgive me?" He looks her up and down, but the calm, proud posture, the way he holds his chin high behind that dark shroud tells her he's not used to begging. She has a feeling that this question is asked only because Soap suggested it would be a good idea to apologize for making her so upset.

"It's not me you should be–" She sighs. "Look… That man had a wife. König, I think he had a kid and everything."

His eyes are covered in a veil of disinterest only she can pierce. There's actually so much going on behind that odd, distanced stare. But what’s horrifying is that he clearly doesn’t agree with her on this matter.

"I kill people every week," he declares. "Just not in the break room."

His logic leaves her wordless for a moment. The officer was not an enemy, he was not part of some foreign military, his only crime was that he was in a hurry…

She has barely even opened her mouth to speak before he finally defends himself.

"How do you know his wife is not secretly happy with the news?"

The question is like a bucket of ice dipped in her head. She had prepared herself for almost anything but this. König only tilts his head and narrows his stare.

"Would you want to be wife to that kind of man?"

Her mouth opens on its own; her jaw would fall to the floor if it could do such a thing. His worldview unfolds before her in full, and it should disgust her: but all she feels is an odd thrill in her stomach from realizing this man is not only possessive; he's also fiercely traditional.

"He just spilled some coffee on me," she whispers in soft, tender horror. "He just happened to have a bad day."

"How many times a week did he have a bad day?"

The defense is solid, even if it's preposterous. The man was rude and disrespectful, yes. To everyone, every day, probably continued the abuse at home, too. But he didn't deserve to be killed for it. Still, König doesn't seem to find any fault in his way of thinking.

"I can tell when people are evil," he crosses his arms over his chest as a final note.

Evil…

Evil.

She's left blinking, then she finds her tongue again.

"You can't just… deal punishment like that," she huffs.

"Why not?"

Jesus Christ…

His arms are still over his chest, and he looks… so big, so powerful, like an omnipotent being.

Probably thinks he is.

"Will you go to jail?" She changes the subject because arguing with this kind of man seems futile. Downright hopeless.

"No," he says with perpetual calm. "Would you want to see me in jail?"

"...No."

He finally unravels his arms and takes a few steps toward her. That swaying lounge is intoxicating and seductive, even when he doesn't mean it as such. It's just the way he walks, but it makes her woozy.

"Engel. You are too… kind for this world."

More odd arguments are laid out before her, more confusion and love and pain. He raises a hand to touch her arm and make his point clear. The weight of him is heavy and adult, his military clothing is in blaring contrast to her tiny, childish dress.

"You don't understand it now, but perhaps someday you will."

The man looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with her. She's a child in his eyes, but something in this lunacy tells her she's dealing with a child, too: a boy who no one ever loved.

"My little angel. Always wearing pretty dresses," he says more softly now.

"I'm not an angel."

"Yes you are," he rules without effort. "And you look good in everything. But you shouldn't wear black."

"Why not…?"

"Because you belong with flowers."

Her heart aches, her eyes prick with burning tears. He's self-aware, that's for sure. He knows what he has done to her, what he is doing to her. And he wishes to spare her from him.

"I thought you liked black," she peeps, her mind and will and defense breaking.

He doesn't say anything, but his hand brushes down her cheek, then cups her chin softly. That same hand must be ironclad when it grips his enemies and brings them to his blade.

"I like this dress," she tries to quarrel, voice shaking.

"And I know a knife that would go perfectly with it."

His eyes are warm. There's even a passing sadness in them. She's relatively sure that he's not talking about butterfly knives any longer – she's almost certain that König hasn't gifted his weapons to any other human being on this earth.

“How about we take off that pretty little dress now, hmm?”

The time for the compulsory explanations is over in his mind, and it’s time for sex. He knows that his exile has ended, that whatever liminal space they walked in for a few days wasn’t enough to rid herself of him. There’s no turning back anymore, and he looks at her with amused hunger when she obeys his suggestion which is, in truth, a command.

Her fingers do not shake anymore as she undresses for him, but a shiver goes through her guts: that stare is a look from beyond. He’s a madman, and falling more in love with her every day, even if the only way he knows how to love is by stabbing people with his cock or his knife.

“Lie down,” he gives her more orders when she stands before him with nothing on.

It’s futile, completely futile to pretend that she doesn’t want this. It’s almost like an act, the way she slowly and demurely obeys his command. In reality, she wants nothing more than to be devoured by him.

He takes his clothes off while she waits for him on the bed like an injured bird. He rips, then throws his gloves off like they have done something naughty, all the while his gaze is fixed on her. She has missed the sight of that faint hair on his abs, missed that broad chest, missed how his muscles bunch even when he gets out of a shirt that weighs practically nothing in his hands.

The long, veined cock flies out from his pants with a demanding bounce that makes her swallow. They form an odd pair on the floor: her little dress and his huge woodland camos. His eyes are surrounded in black paint under the eternal mask, but otherwise, he's the palest man she has ever seen.

Her breasts rise and fall with aroused breaths as he settles himself beside her, naked and blazing. His cock is pure fire when it gets trapped between them, and he's already drooling hot precum on her thigh.

He's gentle, kind of. Slides a hand over her shivering stomach, palms one breast, then takes a nipple between his fingertips and gives her a pinch.

“Did you miss me too?”

The hood makes him look like a hangman, and he’s infuriatingly patient now. She expected him to rail her like a sex toy right after the door was closed.

"Yes."

He releases her, and the callous descends with a gentle, deliberate caress to her waist.

"Then you're the first who ever did."

She just might be the first woman he's gentle with, too, and she cannot help but think if it's because of what she said just before he killed that poor man. If the last piece of the puzzle locked in place when he realized how much she admired him. If her confession also made him stake his claim in the loudest possible way, announcing everyone that he's her protector.

It's not her fault that the man's dead, but she should be ashamed: she's wet already when the murderer's fingers delve further down to meet her folds. He disappears somewhere in her wetness, and her thighs rise and drift apart to give him full access.

And it's always like this: she spreads legs for him with a helpless, longing stare, he takes in what belongs to him with dark, pleased hunger.

He finds her clit in no time, drags his thumb over it, and she gasps. Her breaths come quick now, her nipples are shot to the sky and her back is already arching when he delves down and slides one finger inside. It's long and lean, and her cunt grips him like they have been apart for four weeks instead of four days.

He sighs under the mask, just from her greedy response. She wants to touch him too, but doesn't dare to move when he's looking at her like that. He starts to finger her gently, first with one, then two digits while attending to the tight nub on top. And he's good with a knife, quick with his hands, so what did she expect?

But she’s also sad and mad. Because he definitely knows what he’s doing. And it makes her think…

"Have you had a lot of women..?"

Her question is a mouse's whisper. His fingers halt inside her; they spread her with delicious torture.

"A few," he says. "Back in Austria."

He buries his face in her neck and nuzzles his way to her ear. The bag of darkness is soft and hot, but nothing compared to his heated whisper.

"But they were nothing like you."

He punctuates the declaration by curling the fingers inside her. She bites her lip to stifle a filthy, needy moan. He even grinds his hips against her: that cock is like a heated spear against her soft thigh, and more cum oozes out to trickle down her leg.

"How many men have had you, Engel?"

He doesn't ask: how many men has she had. She may not be his plaything, but she is his possession. In his mind, she belongs to him and only him, no matter who has come before. But the murderous passion with which he waits for her answer makes her flustered, and she bolts her mouth tight in an indication that she will not disclose this information.

"Gut. Don't tell. I would kill them all."

Oh.

Oh…

"Would you like that…?"

"No," she whimpers.

"Yes you would."

“I don’t–I don't want you to–”

“Shh.”

He’s working those fingers smooth and quick, and she’s already leaking on his hand, probably on the bed, too… The room is filled with sighs and whimpers and sobs as he fucks her with slick, wet sounds. She's close the edge in mere minutes, but he won’t let her finish.

Instead, he pulls out just when she's about to tighten around him.

"Why-why did you stop?"

"Angel... Take me in your mouth," he rasps, breathless too despite trying to disguise it. She briefly wonders if this is some sort of a punishment. That perhaps she’s ordered to give him a blowjob just when she’s about to come – after all, she has dared to keep him waiting for days.

But that’s not the case, it seems, as she moves with heavy limbs to fulfill his wish.

"Nein… Other way around. I want to taste you."

The perverse suggestion in the break room turns into a reality as she realizes what he wants to do. Her heart is pounding when she crawls on top of him to meet that leaking cock. How exactly is that thing even going to fit inside her mouth?

A sudden shyness takes her as her thighs are forced into a wide-legged spread from straddling the broadest man on earth. She's exposed to the cold air only for a second before his breath hits her. The shortest shadow of a stubble on that usually clean-shaven chin meets her soaked cunt with hunger.

“Ah… Take it– in your mouth,” he moans orders to her folds, and her cunt clenches immediately, just from hearing that accent and that voice.

She moves to give him a shy lick, sweeps a tongue over that tip to clean him from all that precum. He goes tense under her and breathes heavily when she wraps her hand around him, wraps her mouth around the weeping slit.

He tastes of salt and sin, and the minute she tries to take more of him in, he groans with a dry throat. It's a hot, broken breath that travels straight inside her. It’s too much – the position is far too stimulating, it’s over the top wicked.

And then he starts to lick her. It messes up the blowjob that has barely even started. She knows his hood must be almost completely off, otherwise he wouldn't be able to breathe.

"Take a bit more, Engel," he urges between the long slathers that already sound lewd. There's simply no way to take it fully in, he’s far too long for that. The last thing she wants to do is gag on him. But she does a good enough job, tries to concentrate on breathing through her nose as she goes as deep as she can.

"That's…more like it…"

It’s a relieved notion somewhere behind her before he continues with the agonizingly slow licks. Fat and flat-tongued, the work of a famished man. For someone who's so clumsy with social interaction, he’s infuriatingly good at giving pleasure to women. The tip of his tongue grazes her clit, and causes a muffled moan – her mouth is full of him but she just cannot help herself.

And arms of steel close around her middle the minute she whimpers on his cock. They pull her closer to his face – he wants to hear her make noise, then, and her will to compete arises. She wants to make him moan too. She ups the pace, flattens her tongue on him every time she retreats…

"Where did you learn to–nnh…"

She nearly laughs at his surprise, at their silly little competition. He's shocked, probably jealous too, of her past and the imagined cavalcade of men who may or may not have been inside her mouth before him. She swirls a tongue around the tip every now and then, wraps her lips tight around him, and goes even deeper.

"Verdammte Scheiße.. I'm not going to last long…"

Strong thighs around her power up, and he has stopped licking her altogether: he's just panting in her pussy and holding on to her hips while waiting for the upcoming wave.

"You know what to do, ja?" He pants that question like she doesn't know he's about to shoot a load on her tongue soon.

"Don't make a mess," he shares advice with a sly tone to his voice. "Unless you want to clean after…"

He gives a short laugh as if the joke is funny. As if that's a clever thing to say to a cleaning lady. It makes her grip him harder, and he's close, so close: he's not even moving anymore, everything's just completely rigid under her body and inside her mouth.

"I'm fucking–cumming…"

He spills with a long groan, moans against her cunt, cries inside her with pain. The seed is hot and heavy, it shoots right down her throat even in this position. She does the best she can to not make that mess, but it's hard work when a giant cock pulses in her mouth.

"You're perfect, angel," he sighs behind her, tries to feed more of himself inside her mouth by rolling his hips.

The praise makes her pump and suck him even more, get every last drop out, and a tremble goes through her lover. She has to take support from the bed until the earthquakes recede. His cock is a clean mess after, and she's a mess too: overworked, and shy, and victorious.

They're both left panting: she tries to catch some breath there between his thighs after everything, but she's not allowed to rest and recover. The grip around her middle pulls her back, and a breathless man trying to lick her like it's the end of the world is not only far too much, it's unbearable. She's already overly sensitive and needy from the four days of barren grief.

"It's too much…" She tries to tell him, but he won't listen. If anything, it only spurs him on.

"König, I can't," she wails softly while resting her head on his thigh.

"Yes you can."

A feverish tongue dips inside her as deep as it goes. It forces her legs apart, she spreads herself all over his face completely unwillingly. There's no mercy for her as he flicks a tongue over her clit, plunges a tongue inside her as deep as it goes, returns to the nub again – does it again and again and again like it's some secret code meant to break her.

"You like that, huh?" His rough voice is muffled by her cunt, he sounds both parched and wet.

"Hm? Talk to me," he demands an answer although it should be obvious that she's losing her mind from his treatment.

"Yes," she mewls while being spread so crudely wide for him. "I… I love it…"

"Hah. You sound like a little cat," he laughs, pleased, then gets to it again. She's so close now that she can feel the growing waves. Her thighs are not just shaking, they're trembling.

"So pretty and so wet," he comments between the licking and dipping, voice covered with smoke from all the lust. And he's hard again, too: right next to her face, and she could cry actual tears – what if he plans on fucking her too after this? It's too much, she can't even take this, she can't…

But she does.

Her back starts to arch just before the orgasm. She's not weeping yet, but every noise she makes sounds like she's crying her heart out.

"Slow down, slow–down, please…"

She's a one-woman choir of tight pleas. She tries to muffle them by burying her face somewhere in his thighs and musk. The tongue dips in and out like he's a machine and not a man, and the first wave hits unexpectedly, like a searing, white-hot blade.

"A–ah!"

The climax swallows her, she starts grinding against that face without meaning to. He only laughs and buries his nose and tongue deeper into her slickness. The arms around her hold her like iron bars, his breaths hit her along with his tongue like she's strapped to a torture device.

Her cunt is sloppy, and throbbing, and he is a torturer, licks her even when she's lying on top of him in ruin: a devastated, trembling heap of a woman who's lost everything.

"Stop–König, you need to stop…"

Her weak whispers do nothing. His tongue sweeps her from front to back until she's crying on top of him. Frail fingers try to claw his thighs but grasp nothingness.

When he finally relents, he does it with another laugh. Then he gives her a last lick: a total bully, snorts a chuckle when a tremble goes through her entire body from just that single, fat sweep.

"Mmm. That was good. Right?"

"M–mh…"

There are tears in her eyes, but not one comes out. Her pussy throbs and winks with the aftershocks, and his hand moves up and down her back like she's that little cat.

"You're mean," she sobs. Complains.

"Heh… you didn't like it?"

"I did," she sniffs, and his hand moves to caress her thigh.

"I know you did. I know you. Everything about you."

He sounds merciful at last, pats her leg softly.

"Come here. I'll take care of you."

When she turns and crawls back to him, his mask is fully in place. He receives her with open arms and speaks more softly than ever.

"I have to take care of you after. Isn't that so?"

"Yes…"

She holds onto him, because he's the only thing that's solid in her world at this point. His aftercare is the most tender thing she has ever known: her hair is being caressed gently, the tension in her neck and back is soothed with long, loving strokes. He buries his mask in her hair and inhales her after-sex scent like it's a whole offering of incense.

"Angel. You feel like… like it's my birthday."

His statement brings another round of tears to her eyes. Instinct tells her that birthdays might've been the only happy days of the year for this man.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

He sounds worried when she's so quiet and timid again. Her heart settles slowly into a warm pool of love, she presses herself against him with fervor, and he squeezes her in turn like she's the most perfect birthday present ever.

"No."

I really needed that.

I need you…

"I will never let you go again," he promises. "Never. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she whispers. "I don't– I don't want you to go."

"Little one. I'm so glad I found you."

He takes her palm and uses it to brush away the hood from his lips. The violent edge is always taken away after sex, and the devouring is gentle, the passion is blunt. His kiss is soft; sweet.

"König…" She's raw and bare in his arms, her adoration reflects back to her from his blues. "Why did you pick me?"

"You're the one who picked me, Engel. I just answered your call."

He takes in the effect this truth has on her, then takes her breath away with another kiss. A small giggle erupts in the lazy afternoon as he threatens to crush her with a bear hug. Her hand steals its way further under the mask: she meets smooth skin and a collection of even smoother bumps.

"Why can't I see your face..?"

"It's not a pretty sight," he sighs. "Father liked to cut me when I was little."

The laziness leaves her body that very instant. The man is detached, distant: as if he's sharing something trivial, the city he grew up in or his favorite subject in school.

She doesn't know whether to feel pity or terror, but what he says next sends even more ice down her spine.

"Now I cut those who are evil."

Everything starts to make perfect sense.

Why he was bullied at school, why people fear him. Why disrespectful, cruel men deserve to be knifed and why women and wives are angels. Why he wears a mask.

It's not sound reasoning, but it is a strategy, perhaps. Survival… A defense mechanism.

And offense is the best defense…

She had been right: this man is incurable, only in ways she could never have guessed.

Afterwards, he shows her his knives.

His room is full of them: combat knives, throwing knives, bowie knives, daggers, bayonets, balisongs, two machetes, a kukri, knives she doesn't even have a name for… There's swords and sticks and a riot shield. There's only one bed, nothing more, not even a nightstand.

And the room is also full of guns.

Assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, handguns; there's scopes, tripods, gloves, gas masks, a ghillie suit, pouches, plate carrier vests, magazines, grenades, even a launcher.

The room is filled with violence.

And she didn't know what she expected.

Some "Hot Gun Babes" wall calendar and a few pocket knives? That he would play by the rules and keep weapons and gear where they were stored instead of in his fucking room?

He gives her his third gift that pairs well with her black dress, or any dress, for that matter. Another knife, but not the kind he kills people with, nor the flimsy kind used for entertainment purposes.

She receives an automatic switchblade, simple but pretty. The double-edged blade looks almost feminine, the way it curves into a sharp, dainty tip. The handle is made of sturdy, polished wood; it's incredibly beautiful and so dark it's nearly black. The knife is only a threat when it's flicked open: all in all a piece that isn’t what it seems.

"Hier. Good little blade. Would take it wherever I go."

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, Engel."

She kisses him after his gift. She kisses the white scar on his jaw, lifts the mask a bit more, and he doesn't stop her. He doesn't stop her, not even when she finds more keloid cuts and kisses them too.

And he's… simply a man.

There's a human under all that darkness.

It's not a pretty sight, perhaps, but for those scars, she couldn't love him more.

"You're not afraid of me," he sounds surprised when she takes in the violence done to his face with tenderness in her gaze.

"No."

He's speechless. The barricade covering his eyes is permanently broken, and she can see him, all of him.

She falls to her knees and opens his pants, gives the man another round of love. He looks at her with pain and pleasure; a pale, adoring god. Strokes her hair gently while she gets drunk on him like a succubus, wants him to spill that white on her face and all over her pretty black dress.

"Cum on my face, König."

She looks at him with angel eyes while saliva and drool make a rope from her mouth to his throbbing cock. But there is nothing left of the celestial, nothing more than a sweet, fallen angel, and a safe space just for her and him.

"Please…?"

Ruin me.

He hesitates a few seconds, then grabs his cock in an iron fist like it's heavy artillery.

"Whatever my angel wants, she shall have."

. . . . . .

He brings her flowers every morning and fucks her every night.

Sometimes he catches her when she's outside in the sun, reading a book or watching the clouds. He carries her off to the woods and takes her against a tree like they're the first man and woman on the earth after tasting the forbidden apple. They share a few hushed laughs and more than a few desperate kisses under the hood, then he brings her back to earth, straightens her dress like a gentleman before leaving to have a date with death.

He takes her out to eat sometimes, takes her to the shooting range. Calls her his little Wildkatze when she takes a liking to one of his shotguns. He takes her hand when they stroll through the grass and sings an old love song from his homeland. He has a beautiful voice, especially when he forgets he's in company. Or perhaps she's just special like that…

They share a secret language in the base. Whenever he sees her, he draws his knife and throws it in the air ("I miss you") or twirls it around ("The things I will do to you tonight…"). Sometimes, he just places a hand on the handle of the cruel blade. That stands for 'You're mine'.

It's the closest thing to I love you before either of them have spoken the actual words. Or then it's the closest thing to I love you he's capable of.

She gives him a small smile in return, puts a hand in her pocket and fondles the gift she carries everywhere she goes. He knows it's a nod to his secret messages. It stands for 'You're my everything'.

She keeps the switchblade with her even when she's wearing a dress after work. Red this time, the color of passion.

She wants to surprise him: König always comes to her before nightfall, but this time, she wants to go and visit him. She wants him to take her in the middle of black steel and acrid gunpowder while she's dressed in blood.

"Be a darling and fix me a cup of coffee, will you?"

She's stopped by Phillip Graves of all people. Another man who has never paid her any attention. Apparently, red cloth is the same thing for evil men as it is for the enraged animals in bullfighting shows.

She does stop, but she doesn't obey his wishes. She just stares him down like he's filth: another thing she thought she could never do.

I'm not your coffee girl.

"C'mon honey. I've had a bad day." The man only seems to feed off from her silent scorn: like it's some dark game they're playing now. "You could make it so much better."

For fuck's sake…

Here is a man who disrespects everything about her: her position as a cleaner, her value as a woman, her rank as a shy being who is too kind for this world. She's simply a doll who doesn't know how to kill, who doesn't know how to say no. This man however, won't take no for an answer.

"I'm not here to serve coffee," she says with pure ice.

"Is that so?"

"Yes. And I'm off duty, too."

"Thought we could have a little chat, you and I."

"Why?"

"You seem like an interesting woman."

He seems pleased with the fact that for some reason, she's still here, that he has her attention. Thinks he's winning her over with some yucky flirting.

"And wearing a red dress like that…" He tsks, as if it's a crime for a woman to wear red. "Red can drive a man crazy, darling."

She understands why she has been invisible to everyone except König up until this point.

Because deep down, she knows if she would carry herself in full, show herself to the world as the woman she truly is, she would instantly attract love, and power, and hunger, and lust.

"I'm going to go now, sir."

"Tell you what. You serve me that coffee and I'll let you go."

She catches sadism in that stare. And to think she had always found Graves to be somewhat… arrogant, perhaps, but not cruel. The man obviously has a Napoleon complex, but he was not supposed to be sadistic.

How wrong she has been.

She knows she could just get out of the situation by filling that mug the bastard can't fill himself because of some stupid need to have a powerplay moment with an innocent little girl who happens to wear red.

But she doesn't want to. König would have ripped this guy's head off by now.

"I'm off duty," she repeats.

Fuck these men who are always looking for a plaything.

Graves rises from the chair. She's both cold and sweaty by the time he has taken a step, two, three.

But men are a bit stupid sometimes.

They think dresses don't have pockets.

When he takes the fourth and last step, with joy-tinged cruelty in his eyes, she flicks the knife out and open, and simply stabs him in the supposed direction of the organ called heart.

It feels thrilling, pure power: to sink that knife there and catch a man – a soldier of all people – unawares.

So this is what it feels like…

The hurt in his stare doesn't necessarily come from pain, but from the realization that he has made a huge miscalculation.

He looks down at the small knife that will be the end of him, then at her, the woman he thought was just a simple, shy cleaner he could bully into submission.

"You fucking–bitch," he gasps. Weakly.

By the time she pulls the knife out and stabs him again, she's somewhere far away. It hits him in the stomach, and he still doesn't do anything about it, and that's the moment she finds pity, and mercy, and horror.

She turns and stumbles, then runs from the room, unsure if the thump on the floor behind her is real or imagined.

"You fucking whore…!"

The shout is real enough though, and she runs, runs, with a sharp little knife in her hand for what seems like an eternity. That flight is a prolonged medieval torture moment that ends in front of König's door.

Her titan is as calm as ever when he opens the door, and tilts his head when he sees she's breathing fast.

"I think I killed Phillip Graves," she informs with eyes wide.

He blinks, then immediately looks at her hand, the knife, the blood. She goes to him, lifts a hand to his shirt in a desperate attempt to find support. There's not even that much blood. She thought killing would be much messier.

König said it would be messy.

"I… He…"

Her hands won't even shake. All her senses are blown wide and sharp, she sees everything, hears everything, but her hands won't shake.

Is she a psychopath?

"I killed Phillip Graves," she repeats, looks at his chest, clutches at the knife, clutches at his shirt.

The door behind her closes, and König takes hold of her shoulders with warm, warm hands.

"Well done, Engel," he says with such joy, such unbound pride that it snaps her back into reality.

Her jaw starts to tremble, her teeth clatter, she raises her eyes to him…

"He… He wanted coffee, and to talk, and he liked my dress, and–"

"Did he touch you?"

He asks it like it's far more important than what she has just done. She has to shuffle through her memory, but she finds no recalling of Graves laying a single finger on her.

"No."

He was about to. Right?

He was. He threatened me–

"Don't shed tears for him," König says as he looks down at her with mesmerized awe and infatuation. "I can promise you he doesn't deserve them."

Then he hugs her, squeezes her and just holds her, and she's still holding on to the murder weapon.

What will everyone say? What will my friends say?

"My little angel is good with a knife," the titan laughs proudly somewhere high above her.

People have killed each other since the dawn of time.

These things happen.

I'm not the first murderer on this planet.

"My poor little… He was a bad man, Engel. I promise you that."

It's not a big deal. He was a killer too.

He could've died in the field…

"I'm going to jail," she whispers on his shirt. She wants to let go of the knife, but fears it might hurt him or her when it falls.

And she remembers she's not dealing with normal people.

"They will kill me for this," she says with distant realization.

"No they won't," he strokes her hair like she's the best pet he has ever had. "I will take the blame. It was my knife, ja?"

She pushes herself away to look at him, then nods slowly. Her jaw just won't stop trembling.

"Good girl," he pulls her against him again, so fondly that it forces out a whimper.

"Mh."

"Come here," he coos while already holding her so impossibly close. He's surprisingly good at this: at comforting her. Or then it simply feels uncommonly good to have someone sturdy to hang on to while her life and identity are falling apart.

"I'm not sure if he's dead," she whispers when the embrace lingers on. König breaks the hug immediately.

"You didn't confirm the kill?"

She must look like a shy cleaner again, because his resolve is stone cold and solid.

"Engel, I will go and finish it. Where is he?"

She tells, because he would find out anyway. He would start a manhunt and cause even more ruckus.

But when his hand reaches the doorknob, when he's already about to go and finish her crime on top of taking the full blame for it, he turns.

"Do I have your permission?"

Her jaw slowly stops trembling, and a soft sweetness spreads through her heart. The elite soldier, the mass murderer, asks for her permission.

She is more than just special…

"Yes," she whispers, and he gives her a curt nod before storming out the door.

And he's not living in the 21st century.

Instead, he walks in the world of gladiators, rages in a blood-drunk arena, lives in a time where killing was the norm. He solves problems with physical force: it's just that simple. There is no complex society, there are no rules other than the rules of the heart and the loins.

Anyone who disrespects her will get the blade, anyone who might take her away from him will make him do whatever is in his power to prevent it.

And he has the ultimate power: the power of violence.

He comes back surprisingly clean: only a tiny speckle of blood on his camos and some vivid-colored grime on his hands.

"Done."

She nods with solemn silence. She's done, too. Done with everything, because everything's gone. No matter how high the sun is, she will walk in darkness from now on.

"I believe you Engel. He swore he didn't touch you."

And God.

She might be special, but a dying enemy's, a man's word is more worth to him than hers. As if she would try to protect Graves from his wrath by lying.

And Graves wasn't even dead…

But he is now. Probably tortured too to get the truth out about not soiling her with his paws.

"Did anyone see you..?"

"No. But they will know it was me."

It's another gift to her. Another murder. And her purity, intact, in exchange for a compliment, a testimony of his character during a lazy coffee break. For a few kisses on his scars of abuse. For letting him fuck her like a beast.

Her gifts are burning tears, soft flesh and tight little cries…

His gifts are cold, black steel, hot, white cum and a stream of crimson blood.

"Thank you…"

"I would do anything for you." He bows his head, a little nod to inform her that he is hers to command. "Anything you want, just ask."

She's at home in hell, filled with guns and knives and a fallen god. She knows he will take her again tonight, just like he has done every night in the past weeks. In every position imaginable, grunting, howling, panting, laughing how sweet she is, asking if she likes what he is doing to her. She has always whispered yes through tears of hot joy.

Sometimes, they come together and their gazes lock, and it feels like drifting into a starless space with him. He strokes her hair and coats her with whispers of love before they fall asleep. They always curl up together in the cover of womblike darkness, with soft little smiles on their faces, safe from all evil.

"Can you keep me safe…?"

It's a sad little question, but she doesn't feel weak. She knows he is lost in her too: especially when she's wearing a dress the color of blood, especially when she looks at him like he's her God.

"Please keep me safe."

He comes to her carefully, answers her summons. She's pulled into a familiar embrace, and she doesn't even think about Graves anymore: she thinks about whether König will take her on the bed that smells of acid sweat or on the wall next to the gun rack.

"Always, Engel. I promise."

She holds the most powerful weapon in her tiny little hand. A dark, fallen titan who has risen from the depths of the earth to pledge himself to her, body and soul, while her innocent little dresses flutter in the wind and make everyone believe she's a victim. But she doesn't feel sorry.

Because it's just like he said.

They belong together, she and him.

🖤 🖤 🖤

Taglist:

@ghostinvenus @konigsleftkidney @stillinracooncity @valenspuppy @koionthewalls

[mischiefmaker615]

Bang Bang

Requester: @Laer111ee (wattpad)

Rating: R

Summary: Enemies to Lovers

Inspiration: Bang Bang by K'NAAN

Note: my goodness.. it may be my longest one shot

Loki’s POV

I’ve always known humans to be the weaker species, surely much lower than most of the nine realms of this universe. It wasn’t until I had really spent an.. annoyingly long amount of time on Midgard to realize I could still be surprised.

It was strange, how Midgardians have history books filled to the brim of war and chaos, caused by their own doing. Why is it that when I try to rule, they turn against the idea? They most certainly have no problems living with those elected to decide how they live; is it because I am the god of chaos that makes things different? That I am not human? All.. nuisance cast aside with how things went upon them sending their earth’s mightiest heroes, I did at least gain one positive aspect through it all.

Her.

Was wasn’t quite special, no powers running through her delicate yet capable feminine body. Just years, perhaps a great solid decade at most of hard-core training- that humans would consider hard core. Gods even I am picking up on their simpleton language. Nevertheless, whatever this woman has gone through to earn her spot amongst these Avengers, she was truly the first, pure human that could actually get my body to tense in battle, for me to actually have to concentrate, to be less.. cocky, as I’m told.

She keeps up.

“you have a nasty habit of running from the inevitable-‘’ she called, slowly walking through some abandoned building as I kept myself around the corner from her eye sight.

The SHIELD uniform hugged beautifully to her body, much more mesmerizing than The Widow. She quickly let her eyes flick down briefly to make sure she was carefully walking amongst the debris, going right back up to make sure I hadn’t appeared in sight yet. It was quite amusing, the serious in her face as she searched for me, this not even being the first time she’s sought me out.

Although this woman walked around half the time with a loaded shotgun, -though it was hardly enough to concern me, something about her seemed to make me feel like I could have no concern with whatever she would point at me. Like she wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger, though I wasn’t quite in the mood to test out the possible bluff. She seemed to shoot me straight in the heart anyway, and to my own surprise, it came with no pain..

Why they don’t send someone with heightened abilities, I am unsure. Yet she’s lasted this long, though most of our encounters I’ve held back a lot- and she knows it. I just tend to always look forward to our next encounter, and I can’t very much do that if she is in a recovery wing. I am not a fool though, and normally there is either one or two Avengers outside the building in which I sneak to, indicating that she is perhaps still being put to the test by going after me.

‘’and yet you still follow darling.’’ I chuckle, using the angles where my voice could echo rather than give away my location as I eye the gun clutched in her hands. ‘’tell me, how many times will your heroes send you before they finally think you’ll catch me?’’

Her E/C eyes narrow, her head moving to all directions as she pressed on, her nose twitched as she ignored the knocking feeling to sneeze with all the dust. Cute.

‘’perhaps I’ve been holding back as well, when are you going to have the balls to have a real fight with me?’’

I couldn’t help but smirk at her vulgar language, most likely using sarcasm to substitute her fear, though I did not smell any on her. I began moving myself through the halls, knowing from a birds eye view of the building, I was making my way around so I could be behind her. ‘’when I know you won’t break as soon as I touch you..’’ quite often, I’ve hinted at an inuendo. As I’ve pushed much of the thoughts down, it wasn’t new for the idea of perhaps laying down with her to cross my mind if even given the opportunity- though I do like my partners willing most of the time.

‘’how about you stop hiding like a coward then?’’

It was a weak answer, but I knew she just wanted me to keep talking to give away my position as I quietly turn the corner and was now getting an eye view of her backside- hips swaying with a sculpted rump. I have wondered if those heroes merely send her for me to be distracted in hopes that she could use that to defeat me.. it hasn’t quite worked yet.

“It could be fun if you stop holding back.’’

My brow raised at her last statement. Did she enjoy these pointless battles just as much as I did? I rather sought out her closeness, her sarcasm and fierceness though she was as harmless as a young mongrel. I could always smell her scent when we fought, almost seeing the oils and soaps she uses and there was only one time I could have sworn I could smell arousal. My cock twitched at the mere thought and brought me out of my thoughts as I slowed my pace behind her. Though this closeness now I just couldn’t resist.

‘’you want fun then? Let’s have fun..’’ I whisper in her ear, seeing her body tense at the realization of my whereabouts and I had just enough time to inhale, my eyes fluttering as I got what I wanted before I leaned back when she swung an elbow back.

She was quick, turning around and pointed her gun towards me in which I was quick to grab and yank free before I had to watch her other arm. Fighting Midgardians was almost like fighting something that moved in slow motion, and I was happy to play along as I let her hit my chest now and again though I could tell she had gotten stronger since the last time we’ve met.

‘’dare I say you also look forward to our little dance sweet Y/N?’’ I smirk, teasing her to throw off her concentration as she glares, increasing her speed as she keeps trying to find an opening.

‘’I look forward to finally seeing you behind glass again Loki’’ she snapped though I gathered no anger in her voice as she dropped down and I quickly stepped back from a leg swing.

‘’ah so you much prefer talking than our physical interactions out here?’’ I press before she humps back to her feet, ramming the top of her head into my jaw. It didn’t hurt but it was the force that had my eyes fly up and I had to regain my footing as she kept going at punching at my pressure points- trying through my armor at least.

‘’I prefer you putting your mouth to better use-‘’ she cut herself off, the surprise matching my own as her body stilled for a split second and she shook her head ‘’interrogation!’’ she added, trying to redirect her meaning as her mistaken inuendo had my humor triggers.

I laughed and something in my chest seemed to switch at how this woman made me feel in that moment where she was quick to try to correct herself by fighting harder. It worked.

For once she got the best of me, fighting rather dirty through her embarrassment and opted to quick me in the groin. My amusement was quickly replaced with pain and she had me on my back in an instant with her blade to my neck. My hands were up, palms towards her in a surrender position where we both caught our breath.

‘’let me know if the offer still stands,’’ I smirk, knowing any wrong moves she would press the blade deeper than it was as I felt the slight warm trickle of blood at my neck.

Her free hand moved to her thigh, my eyes watching rather mesmerized as my mind screamed to get me out of this situation. With her body on top of mine quick comfortably in a pin, my body had other plans and wished to remain as she pulled out her radio. Sound seemed to have left my ears, seeing her speak but I couldn’t hear anything as I watched her.

This woman was different..

That had been quite some time ago, perhaps a little bit over a year and It was only 3 months later of.. attempted interrogations, they even sent her, because they realized my “plans” haven’t been put into place yet, day saved if it hasn’t started yet. After those boring 3 months, I found out someone had requested and convinced me to remain house bound to the Avengers tower, participating in community service here and there if my magic needed to be put to use depending on the foe they were fighting that same day. Of course, they never let me out without a particular Asgardian bracelet my idiot brother brought back that would dull my abilities, ensuring my escape would not be easily attempted.

When I had arrived at the tower for my new living situation, I received the not-so-surprising welcome from those heroes, and I often wondered who convinced SHIELD to let me be housed here. When my eyes landed on Y/N, those features reddened and her eye contact wavered, I knew it was here. I never brought it up, but as we conversed here and there throughout my time, her kindness compared to the others was a define confirmation where I never really needed to ask.

And our friendship grew.

Reader’s POV

Loki and I were similar in many ways- not so much the fact that he killed people or tried to take over the world or that he was narssassistic.. okay perhaps not that similar. Though in many house-life ways we seemed to be two peas in a pod.

I knew from the start the Avengers had sent me first to try to take him down, to put me to the test, so to speak, during my training days. To everyones surprise, he and I weren’t the stereotypical enemies. I would never admit it, but Loki was right.. fighting him was almost something I would look forward to, because we knew we couldn’t bring ourselves to kil each other.

Weve grown in friendship since he’s arrived, I noticed long before there was something different about him.. so I spoke with Fury and although Loki hasn’t figured it out yet- to my knowledge, I was assigned to secretly ‘babysit him’.

Whenever he entered the room, I couldn’t help but look at him with the feeling that my lips wanted to curl into a smile. There was a strange flutter in my chest, almost a wanting that I hoped he would sit next to me, talk to me, anything where I was really in his attention. He strongly disliked everyone else, perhaps me a bit less so I hope that wasn’t the main reason why he would come over..

I don’t want him to hate me..

We sat across from each other in another meeting, hosted by Rogers as he yet again had to debrief us on how we could do better on the latest assignment. From the corner of my eye, I could tell Loki was staring and I shifted a little shyly by his intense gaze. Whenever I would move to look back at him, his eyes were quick to move on Rogers and sometimes I would question if he had really been looking over here or not.

Just to test that theory, I would sometimes lean forward against my forearms on the table, my clevage showing a bit more with whatever top I was wearing that day. From the corner of my eye I could see Loki seeming to study my skin, him taking a strained swallow as he shifted in his seat sutly. I couldn’t help but smirk as I ‘listened’ to Steve, loving to tease this man to get back at mild mischief he would throw around in the tower when he was bored.

I would only sit back in my chair when I notice Tony activitly leaning forward to stare down my chest, hearing a growl form Loki as he seemed to look jealous before I would roll my eyes at Stark.

He would after flirt, casually of course in a normal conversation and catch me off guard where he’d smirk at how red my cheeks would get. Often mentally preparing myself to see him every day I would usually beat him to it with a flirtation inundo where he then would either stutter or turn away to try to make sure I wouldn’t see his own cheeks redden.

Cat and mouse, taking turns on who would be played and the player.

That’s how our relationship was, flirting and conversing. The only one who could hold up an interesting conversation around here and get me to think. He had so many ideas, good ones, and thoughts where we’d lose track of time. Truth be told I think I have began to gain feelings for this god.. and it scared me to death but upon seeing how.. for lack of a better term, weak, I could make him, it also made me feel bold, powerful, and I liked the person I was when I was around him.

Yet it’s not like he felt the same.. I probably was just another weak mortal in his eyes, decent enough to kill time with if this was all the options he had..

Nobody’s POV

Loki’s footsteps slowed, moving with causton down the halls as soon as he heard slight sound coming from the kitchen down the hall. Exactly where he was heading to In the middle of the night, as one does.

He was bare chested, black boxers being the only article of clothing he had on and with a dagger formulating in his hand as he neared the corner. No one has been up this late, and judging the cercumstances of where they were, you could never be to sure with the enemies that could pop up. Yet when he peaked around the corner, there was no enemy..

Her.

She had on.. very short shorts, a tank top with no sign of bra on as she kept her back to him at the stove. The dim stove top light was the only lighting she gave herself as she stirred something in the pop while his body relaxed with the non-threat.

Why was she up at this hour? He was only fetching himself a glass of water..

The dagger slowly vanished within thin air, his eyes starting from her ankles and slowly working their way up as he leaned himself against the doorframe. He had seen her in varies outfits- from work, to casual but never sleep attire. His teeth captured his bottom lip, feeling like he hasn’t blinked as he shifted himself by the slight growing reminder at how he felt towards her. Upon pawing at his boxers, he exhaled in slight discomfort and as soon as he noticed her body tensed, his hand moved to his side as she turned.

‘’oh! Loki-‘’ she gasped, quickly hushing herself as she grabbed her heart from the surprise. Her eyes seemed to widen at the sight of him, not exactly having seen him in his own sleep attire before- let alone shirtless. ‘’what are you-‘’

Playing it off quickly as if he hadn’t been staring for long a moment ago, he casually shrugged and moved himself towards the fridge with his eyes forward. ‘’I am merley fetching a glass of water, I am more curious as to why you would be cooking yourself a meal this late in the night?’’ he asked, glancing over at the stove as she turned off the burner.

‘’sometimes I just wake up with cravings- I wasn’t to hungry at dinner time so I suppose my body makes up for it now’’ she smiled sheepishly and leaned herself against the counter, watching him.

Loki gave a mild hum and a nod, taking a glass and turning around to face her. ‘’well do not mind me, I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything’’ he smirked and slowly sauntered over to her.

He could notice her breathing picking up as he stood before he, having to tilt his head down a little to look at her as his height served as a reminder.

‘’n-not at all-‘’ she shook her head, sucking in a breath as he raised his arm while he held eye contact, their expressions steady at a stalemate before he reached around her, his arm gliding against her side before he pulled back with the water pitcher in hand. Looking embarrassed, her eyes moved over to the stove, checking on nothing which made him smirk.

‘’is there a problem?’’

‘’of course not- I’m just waiting for you to finish up.’’ She said with quick defense where he couldn’t help but chuckle, motioning around him as he poured into his glass.

‘’I am not in your way darling, unless of course you require things from the fridge but I do remember you favor that particular meal as is- plain package contents.’’ He said with no judgement- not anymore, he had wrinkled his nose the first time he had seem packaged ramen but held back his negative opinions when she had him try it one day.

‘’I know I just- am not used to working in the kitchen with someone around..’’ she said and rubbed her arm as she seemed to want to close in on herself.

‘’that is not try Y/N, I distinctly remember you having no issue working in the kitchen when one is present,’’ he corrects calmly and takes a sip of his drink, eyeing her before he sets down the glass beside him. ‘’I think you are merely just not used to one seeing you in quite the.. intimate attire..’’ he smirked and she picked up on his teasing, narrowing her eyes as she crossed her arms to seem stubborn but she really just tried covering herself.

‘’I am perfectly fine, Loki, with cooking in anything with anyone. I just enjoy my peace and quiet and wish to resume it as soon as you leave.’’

‘’quite the lie darling, how long will you be keeping it up until you remember what the god of I am?’’ he laughed, quickly lowering his voice as he leaned against the counter across from her, almost acting as a mirror as he rests his palms beside him on its edge just as she did.

He couldn’t help but notice her- not so subtle- eyes roaming over his chest in quick movements as if he wouldn’t notice. Did she admire him as much as he admired her?.. or wasn’t strictly just their forms they liked..

‘’..was it an innuendo?’’ he asked, seeming to surprise himself as the words came out.

‘’-what was?’’ she asked, raising a brow as she thought if she said anything right now that would make him think that but he clarified with a shake of his head.

‘’in our last fight.. when I was free.. before all,’’ he waved his hand around as his eyes slowly raised over to hers. ‘’this..’’ he cheeks reddened at the very pit he had dug himself but he had to ask. ‘’you told me.. that you would rather put my mouth to better use-‘’

‘’that was strictly involving interrogation-‘’ she said quickly, her cheeks heating up as she turned herself around, gripping the counter edge in her hands as she kept her back to him.

She was hiding, quite shy and although he was rather embarrassed himself upon asking the question, he quite liked the way he could make her squirm this was as she hid her face from him. ‘’all of it?’’ he asked slowly and she knew he was waiting to try to read on if she would lie to him.

Her eyes studied the countertop, her mouth searching for words while her mind raced before she closed her eyes and shook her head. ‘’no..’’

Loki’s heart seemed to jump in his chest, his eyes looking over her back.. backside to be exact while he listened to her answer. So she did want him.. he began to take a small step forward, watching how she stayed still as she kept her back to him but she was very much listening to his movement. ‘’as it may seem.. I want you to Y/N.. but not in just that way..’’ he took a breath, finding it easier to confess while she wasn’t piercing him with her eyes and he continued on.

‘’your not like the other mor- ..humans.. your strong, you help others, your not selfish and dare I say just as mischievious as me.. intreging.. I’ve often looked forward to the next time we got to fight if it so meant being just a little bit more close to you..’’

By now he was standing behind her, seeing how she kept her head low and her body began to shake as she drew in a breath. ‘’..i like you too Loki.. you make me feel like I’m alive.. you make me want to be better.. stronger.. free.. I knew since day one you were holding back in the fight for a reason..’’

He slowly rested his hands along hers, his body hovering just barely against hers as his chin almost rested against her shoulder. His eyes fluttered closed, taking an inhale of her sweet scent he loved so much while he shook his head. ‘’I couldn’t hurt a sweet thing like you.. it was you who told Fury to put me here, wasn’t it? Out of the cell?’’ he finally asked and she nodded a little, looking forward as she straightened a little, bringing her body up so her shoulder was resting now against his chin.

He took this as an okay to rest a little weight on her, his chin down on her shoulder while his hands moved to rest on top of hers. His body was so close to hers, he could feel her body heat radiating off of her skin and his cock throbbed as he could smell her arousal. Her sweet.. sweet scent..

‘’thank you Y/N..’’ he whispered, grateful every day to be stuck here if I meant being close to her like this. Glass between them didn’t cut it. His thumb gently stroked her smooth skin on her hand, his brows furrowing as the straining reminder and he took a shaky breath. ‘’..does the offer still stand?’’ he whispered, asking the same question he had asked a long time ago.

His body tensed, holding itself back to remain in control as she slowly nodded and whispered back, ‘’yes..’’

Moving ever so slowly, keeping in control and full prepared to stop himself if she would change her mind, he pressed himself up against her, his bulge resting against her ass while his chest pressed against her back. His hand slowly left her own and moved to her waist, his palm flat as it glided down her hip and moved so his fingers could dip under the edge of her shorts.

With one last hesitation as if she would change her mind, his hand moved into her shorts, dipping into her underwear and found out just how aroused she was. They both seemed to suck in a breath, her body beginning to shake as he buried his face against the side of her neck and hair.

‘’gods Y/N.. how long have you dripped for me..’’ he breathed and felt her body tense as she bit her lip.

‘’to long..’’ she whispered and felt the pads of his two finger tips began to rub lazy circles against her clit.

Her hips seemed to press forward into his hand, her head falling back to rest against his shoulder while his hand stroked through her folds. Her breathing was shallow and she arched her back a bit when he began slowly grinding his bulge against her ass, following the same rhythem of his hand.

His own body shook a bit, his breathing seeming to match hers as he nuzzled his cheek against hers, their eyes closed as they feel into the sensation of lust while Loki moved his hand so his thumb could take over her clit while a digit began ghosting her enterance, teasing her as he moved his finger barely in and out.

Her fists clenched as she bit her lip, the teasing slowly driving her made and she could almost see the smug look on his face as he waited for her to give him what she wanted. She wasn’t having that and instead, pushed her ass a bit into his crotch, pushing him a step back before pulling his hand out by her wrist before she turned herself around.

Loki smirked, following her intentions as his hands moved to her waist and helped her jump onto the counter, her legs spread while he made quick work to pull her shorts and panties off all in one go. He had to take a pause, the sight to beautiful to just admire as his hands gripped the counters edge alongside her spread legs while she rested back on her palms.

His mouth seemed to water at the sight of her cunt, ready and waiting while he sank to a knee. The care if someone would walk in was long gone for them both as Loki moved his hands to grip her hips before he dipped his head between her legs. The very taste of her had him pulling her forward so she was closer to the edge, her legs shaking to almost squeezing his head while her own rested back with her eyes up to the ceiling.

‘’fuckk..’’ she breathed, her fingers gripping the edge as he moaned, lapping her center while his vibrations helped her along to build her pleasure.

Silver tongue alright and he couldn’t get enough of her as he ate like a man starved. He lapped through her folds, taking turns suckling at her clit and tongue fucking into her center while her hand moved to his hair.

His locks were silky smooth, her fingers tangling themselves in his hair while she panted for her sweet release. His careful slow movements made her eyes flutter open, noticng how he slowed as soon as her cunt began clenching against his tongue and she bit her lip. Replaying his tongue with the pad of his finger, he kept her on that glorious edge while he rubbed into her clit, raising his head as he smirked up at her.

‘’say it.’’

She held her breath, cheeks heating up as her fingers gripped his hair, knowing he was to strong to pull him back down herself as his eyes pierced hers. With a shaky breath, she knew what he wanted.. she knew for so long what he wanted..

‘’please.. oh god please Loki.. please let me cum..’’ she begged, a whine in her tone as tears of sexual frustration build up pricked her eyes as he gave her that all to familiar smirk.

‘’as my lady commands,’’ he purred before moving his hand back to her hip and replaced it with his tongue, plunging it in and out of her center while the tip of his nose rubbed against her clit.

Her hips began bucking, her grip tightened in his hair before she threw her head back and moaned, shamelessly moaning his name as her eyes fluttered closed while she came. Loki wasted not a single drop as he drank her in, his hands rubbing up and down her thighs soothingly, almost like that alone was telling her good girl..

With shallow breaths, she felt his mouth slow its movements, helping her ride out her orgasm while her body shook. Pulling his body back slowly, he gave each inside of her thigh a kiss before he raised himself to be nose to nose with her, his palms resting beside her thighs as he smirked.

‘’how’s that for holding back?”

Her eyes widened as her hands moved to grip his shoulders. ‘’you were holding back??”

‘’do you think I hold back just in battle darling? I do not wish to break my fair mortal’’ he smirked and his eyes glanced over her before flicking back up. ‘’we are merely in the kitchen, if you wish for a proper.. fucking, then to the bedroom we go.’’

Her cheeks heated up and the realization that it gets 10000 times better- impossibly- made her eyes flick down to his raging erection. That piercing gaze of hers moved back up to his own and she mirrored his smirk as she moved a hand down to where he wanted her most.

‘’how about we put my mouth to use too..’’

Loki smirked and pulled her forward, her arms wrapped around his neck while her legs around his waist.

‘’..i will accept that offer in.. full.’’

DM a song for your own Musical Mischief one shot!

Tag List: @foxherder  @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz

[ham-st4r]

𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 𝓹𝓽.4 - 𝓛. 𝓗𝓮𝓮𝓼𝓮𝓾𝓷𝓰

☎️ Pairing: heeseung + fem reader!

Warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, pet names, cursing.

Genre: PSO (phone sex operator) heeseung

Summary: I think most of you get it by now lmao didn’t write this well but whatever :/

Number of words: 1,905k

Find your way around!

You chewed on your lip nervously as you contemplated his offer, your better judgment going out the window when you felt just how wet your panties had gotten from seeing his body.

You immediately FaceTimed him, and it barely got a chance to ring before he answered the call. And when he did, you were faced with something you didn't expect, at least not so soon.

"Hi, angel," he moans softly. The only thing in the frame is his cock, his very big thick, and veiny cock.

You gasped at the sight, heart already pounding in your chest with nerves and excitement, and he wasn't lying when he said that it wasn't as big as he could get.

You stare silently in awe, watching as his fingers squeeze the lower part of his shaft, his thumb rubbing out the clear, sticky precum from his tip. "Wow," you say absentmindedly, forgetting you were on the phone with him until you hear him softly chuckle on the other end, and your face immediately flushes with embarrassment.

"Told you," he says teasingly while you're still internally dying with embarrassment cause you didn't even say hi to him before you started ogling his cock, but in your defense, he's the one that decided to answer his phone in the most unconventional way.

"I didn't know it'd be that big," you say in amazement.

He twitched involuntarily at your words, a soft moan muffled into the speaker as you and him both watched on while he spread the precum all over his cock, making it shiny and slick, aiding his hand to run up and down smoothly. "All for your eyes," he responds flirtatiously, pumping his cock achingly slow, another drip of precum spilling from the head. "Fuck” he whispers, repeating the same actions as before, stroking his length up and down, his arousal heightening at the thought of you watching him touch himself on video call. "Angel, are you touching yourself too?"

Since you had FaceTimed him, your screen was pitch black, much to his dissatisfaction because he was dying to see you the moment he heard your shy, timid voice the first night you called him, he just knew your face would match your pretty voice.

"N-no," you revert back to your shy demeanor. Texting him was easy, but talking to him wasn't so easy.

"Oh angel, not this again." he changes his tone, going back to the one he always used to break you out of your little apprehensive shell. "We've already done this so many times."

"Only three," you mutter.

"Good to know I'm not the only one counting." you could hear the smirk in his voice, making you tuck into yourself, feeling shyer by the minute. "But angel, it's just me, you know me," he whispers. "I always satisfy you, right? Always talk to you nice and make you feel good," he moans softly, dragging his thumb from his base to tip, encouraging you to please yourself the same way.

"Yes," you whisper, slowly picking up your phone and revealing the short skirt that was covering just below your core, giving him the perfect view of your thighs.

"So good for me, angel." The words alone make you clench around nothing, and you can't help but rub your thighs together to release the built-up tension between them. "Now, lift your skirt up a little higher. Can you do that for me?" He gulped down harshly. Just the sight of your thighs turning him on. Even the slightest touch felt like it'd make him cum, but he continued to fondle himself, hand slithering down to cup his balls and give his cock, which was leaking in desperation a much-needed break.

When he saw your hand hesitate, he didn't push you any further cause the last thing he wanted was for you to do something you didn't want, but before he could even stop you, your skirt was around your waist, your white panties on display for his and your eyes only. "Is that good?" You say barely above a whisper.

He could have cum to the sound of your voice alone. "Fuck yes, that's so good, so perfect" he tugged on his balls softly, hand trailing to his cock cause he couldn't help but stroke it to the sight of your panties. "Now show me how you do it," he hissed as his thumb glided across his sensitive tip. "Show me how you please yourself, angel."

You don't know what came over you, but the moment you heard his voice all deep and husky instructing you what to do, you couldn't help yourself, especially since you've been turned on for so long. You just needed to feel something already, and the sight of his cock was not helping your situation.

You hastily lifted your hips, slipping your panties down your thighs, showing your pussy to him for the first time.

Everything was happening so fast he couldn't hardly believe what he was seeing right now. "Oh my fuck” he groans, fisting his cock desperately, heavy breaths falling from his parted lips as his brows furrow and the heavy feeling in his abdomen intensifies. "You're so fucking pretty, my angel" he throws his head back, chest rising and falling as he bites on his lip, trying his hardest not to cum so soon, but the sight of your pussy made it really hard not to.

"Thank you," You said it so low, but he heard it loud and clear, his cock throbbing and twitching with every move of his hand as he listened to your sweet voice.

"Angel, I can't hold it much longer" he slowed the pace of his hand, letting go of his cock as it throbbed uncontrollably, and he almost came untouched.

You moaned softly, hands slowly slipping between your legs, fingers dancing along your glistening folds. "Ethan," you whimper, his name desperately, walls already clenching around nothing as you massage your clit.

"Fuck, I wanna feel you so bad" he took a deep breath, eyes hazed over with arousal as he teased his cock, edging himself for at least the third time.

Your eyes rolled back in your head, speeding up the movement of your fingers as you circled your swollen clit in quick circular motions. "I'm so wet for you, Ethan," you breathe out, a finger slipping inside along with a second one following just moments later as you started pumping your tight, wet hole.

"Shit," he cursed under his breath. He was trying so hard not to cum first, but it was getting harder and harder, especially with the way you were talking to him.

"Mmh Ethan," you boldly pull your fingers out of your hole, a string of wetness connecting your fingers to your core. "Want your cock in me so bad fingers aren't big enough," you whine as you spread your slick arousal over your clit, rubbing it faster as your thighs tense from the pleasure.

He was losing his mind. The pleasure was almost tortuous with how long he's been holding out, but he couldn't bring himself to cum just yet. He wanted this feeling to last forever. "Yeah? Need my big cock filling you up, angel?"

"Yes," you moan, hips rising off your bed as your orgasm builds more by the second.

"Me too, need my cock in you. Just wanna feel your soaked pussy wrapping around my cock. Need to feel that warm little cunt squeezing on me," he groans, abs tensing with every mouth-watering stroke.

"Yes, Ethan fuck, I want you. Need you in me, stretching me open fucking me so deep," you say with absolutely no filter.

Apparently, his hand had a mind of its own cause the moment those words reached his ears. He couldn't control the quick pace his hand worked at to bring him closer to cumming. "Fuck angel, I'd fill you up so well fuck you so deep, stuff you with cum” Loud breathy whines soon turn into desperate moans just seconds later, and he can't hold off any longer. He needs to cum to you. His moans were enough to have you close to letting go. "Angel, please tell me you're close."

"So close, Ethan." You squeezed your thighs together, your fingers moving at the speed of light to coax an orgasm out of you.

"Angel cum for me, please. Need your cum so bad," he pleads before he sucks in a breath, hand quickly slipping up and down his precum-soaked shaft.

The wet sounds both your bodies made had your cheeks feeling hot. The sight of his veiny hand stroking himself off was all you needed to let go, and with a string of moans mixed with his name, you were creaming for him in just seconds. "Cumming, Ethan," you whine, walls spasming harshly as you let go, toes curling as you indulge in pleasure with him cumming right after you.

"M-me fucking too," he grunts, rubbing out the first rope of seed. "Oh shit fuck, angel feels so good" he continues pumping out all of his thick milky cum as it covers his fist and runs down his shaft, some of it leaking to his tight balls.

You chant his name over and over. The image of him cumming just made your orgasm feel ten times more intense.

"Cumming so much for you," he pants as weaker spurts of cum shoot out until it turns into a few dribbles spilling all over his fist as he jerks his overly sensitive cock squeezing the head and milking himself for every last drop he has to give you. "Angel," he groans, body shuddering as he covers his cock in cum, stroking out the last few bits of his orgasm.

You both go silent except for all the deep, heavy breaths and quiet moans.

"Oh my goodness," he laughs breathlessly, trying to put what he just experienced into words.

"What?" You giggled shyly, fingers running over your mound, the dim light in your room highlighting the sheen of your slick, and he couldn't help but lick his dry lips from the enticing visual.

"That was fucking amazing, that's what," he chuckles. "Wow, that felt so good. I've never cum so much before," he admits.

"Oh my gosh," you turned to your side, grabbing your blanket to hide yourself, feeling all shy once again.

"Oh my gosh is right," he teases. "Look at all this" he pans the screen back showing his lean upper body that was completely covered in his cum, and he was right. It was indeed a lot, you couldn’t help but think of how it’d feel inside you. "Wish it was inside you instead, angel. I'd loved to watch it dripping out of your cute little hole."

You try to hold back a moan from his words, and you can’t ignore the feeling of arousal growing in the pit of your stomach once again. And even though you literally just came, you still wanted more. "Ethan," you whisper, a tingle between your legs already making its presence known.

"Yeah, angel?" He answers like he's completely unaware of what he's doing to you.

"Stop," you mumble, and he can't help but smirk as he watches you rubbing your thighs together not so discreetly.

"Stop what? I'm not doing anything" he swipes up a puddle of his cum, running it along his semi-hard cock.

You breathe shakily, a drop of arousal leaking from your hole just from his teasing alone. "Ethan," you cave, instantly moaning his name as he rubs over his tip, circling his thick pink cock head.

"Mmh fuck, you want it too, don't you?" He asks, cock hardening right in front of your eyes. "Wanna see me make myself feel good again, angel?"

You respond by pulling your sheet back, your hand gliding between your legs. "Yes, Ethan," you say quietly.

It looks like you were both in for a very, very long night.

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback! -🐹

Permanent taglist🔖 @hee-pster @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heehoonsnemo

Just a call away taglist🔖 @heeseungshim @rayofsunshineeee @fakeuwus @heesquared @skzenhalove sorry if I missed you:/

[thatbuddie]

ok so bear with me here, this theory is based on nothing but vibes and dreams and delusions.

buddie is going canon in 8x12 which is also episode 118 of 911.

i still find it so interesting that they decided to make bi buck canon (i will never ever ever ever get over bi buck canon, btw) in episode 100 of the show. i know that nowadays episodes 100 of shows are not as big as they used to be (mainly because shows rarely make it to them) but they still mean something big. something big enough to warrant press and cakes and such. and what did 911 do with their 100th episode? they made it about bi buck. in a way that forever links the essence of 911 and bi buck forever. and i find that so incredibly beautiful.

it would be logical to argue that episode 8x12, which is episode number 118 of the show that revolves around station 118, has the potential to be something different and special too. i think that the best way to honor this would be by making it a mostly lighthearted team-focused episode. give me bottle episode at the station where the team receives 0 calls all shift, give me an episode from the 3rd person pov of the people that they help on calls and how they view the 118, give me a the 118 gets locked in a room silly episode, just give me something fun and heartfelt that shows the 118 as the family that they are!!! and then.... and then....

give me the first real confirmation of buddie going canon at the end of the episode. and i mean the very last scene of it.

they already connected a big episode (7x04 aka episode 100) with a very big moment that many many fans had been waiting for (bi buck). why not connect the other very core episode of the show (their 118 episode which is nothing really and yet so special of them) with the other big anticipated thing that fans have been dying for for years.

and like y'all, bi buck is important in and of itself and i hope we all know that. but bi buck is so intrinsically connected to buddie too. and i mean both in fandom and in the canon as well. like we know what subset of fandom has been reading buck as bisexual for seasons now and it's not most of the casual viewers (though i hope some did). it was the buddie fandom. and in 7x04 the way that buck's realization arc was so incredibly connected with eddie and their friendship is astounding. like i still can't believe that it went that way. and that is a deliberate choice. there were a thousand ways in which they could have done it and then said "we are putting eddie diaz, evan buckley's best friend and the guy that everyone who wants bi buck ships him with, in the center of it." so it would be very on brand for producers and writers to give us the actual buddie of it all in episode 118 which could be an episode to touch the core of the show -found family, the firefighting aspect, the hope- which at this point includes buddie as well.

now we know NOTHING about s8 right now so this is where more vibes just get added but it would also make sense that it happens in 8x12 because that it the second half of the season. i feel like s8 is gonna start a little "dark" (and i just mean sad) for the 118. gerard is gonna be ruining their lives and making everything wrong. and eddie is gonna be doing badly, y'all. of course he is. so we can use the first 8 episodes to "solve" these things. eddie can finally be in therapy again for more than his ptsd. the 118 can be fighting to get bobby buck. the bucktommy relationship can be worked towards a break up that moves buck to the next stage of where he's going. and then s8b starts. and we have a "lighter" feeling. hopefully chris is back. bobby is back. buck and eddie are single and we can see that there is something there but for now it has been things that still maybe not everyone can catch on to. so then 8x12 happens and BOOM. buck and/or eddie realize/aknowledge/voice the truth of it all: it's always been about buddie. and then we have 6 more episodes in the season to explore that!!! which is a pretty fair number, i think.

so yeah, that is my-based-on-nothing-but-i'm-now-convinced-is-happening theory for a buddie canon confirmation in 8x12 aka episode 118 of 911.

[alicanta77]

NCT Dream Reaction: Collab with their idol!s/o

Mark:

this would probably be his dream

he is so busy all the time

and he knows his schedule isn't going to calm down anytime soon

so at least this way he can get his work done

and spend time with you as well

and he got even more excited when he found out it was just the two of you and your groups weren't going to be involved

now he gets you all to himself

just him and his favourite girl

would treasure every single second that he gets to be with you and work with you

loves watching you work and just finds you such an inspiration

every now and then just stops for a second and goes

"dang... that's my girl..."

he's just in awe of you 24/7

you truly are a goddess to him

Renjun:

would become a complete and utter cutie patootie

literally melted when he heard that your group was doing a collab with nct dream

like actually shrunk down in his chair and smiled so widely

you got to sing the most beautiful duet together

and the harmonies made hairs rise on his arms everytime he heard you sing them

would definitely plan to sing this song when he finally gets to marry you

this whole experience would just melt renjun right down to his core

would be so so SO excited for the fans to see it too

like he's play it non-stop and enjoy every second of the promo that you two got to do for it

seeing him and you have so much fun brought loads of positive attention from fans as well

and renjun couldn't believe his luck that he got to do this with you by his side

Jeno:

the most supportive boyfriend ever

would just be smiling all the time

like you're doing a darker and twisted concept

but jeno is watching you in the corner like (.◜ ᵕ ◝)

everything you do is like it is the most incredible thing on the planet

definitely finds you taking work seriously incredibly hot

wants to practice the dance as much as possible

and is constantly offering suggestions that would make the two of you be dancing closer to each other

"maybe i should grab her hip here and guide her through the turn"

"jeno you haven't let go of her once this entire routine"

"so?"

would love to hear your input as well and probably thinks your ideas are all brilliant

he just thinks that you're brilliant

Donghyuck:

he would want to be involved in the whole process

from the very first step with writing it all the way through and he wanted you to be just as involved as him

he loves having a project that he can put his whole heart into

and you are his whole heart so working on this with you would be a dream come true

this would definitely be the project he was most proud of

would love that the two of you could be honest with each other about how the project was going

he would listen to you with such attentiveness and would truly value everything you had to say

hyuck holds your opinion to the highest standard

like no one else's opinion matters to him more than yours

so he would take your views on this so seriously

and would make sure you knew your voice was heard

he was always ready to fight your corner

Jaemin:

when he got told your groups were doing a collab together he could barely hold back the grin that stretched out across his face

it became his mission to make this time you had together the best practices of your lives

he would bring in a homemade lunch for the two of you

and managed to turn that half an hour break into a date

he would be cheering obnoxiously loudly from the side of the practice room while you danced

he would bring you water to the recording studio

if there's one thing jaemin will always be it's a romantic

having him around would keep you on top of your health as well

there would be no skipping meals and your vitamins would be taken at exactly the right time

jaemin saw to that

as long as you had him around he would never let anything bad happen to you

Chenle:

oh my god he would have campaigned for this to happen for SO LONG

like i cannot put this into words

essentially for the past year every day chenle would ask to do a collab with you

it got to the point where the company gave him the collab just so that he would shut up

literally will talk about it non stop as well

even to you like he's just bouncing off the walls he's so exicted

the first time he sang your pair ballad with you he nearly cried

though he'd never openly admit it

he wasn't sure why it got to him but he just got so overwhelmed with his love for you

tried his hardest to get it together for your first live broadcast

but you were dressed so beautifully and you sang like an angel an he just couldn't believe that you had chosen him

it was hard not to be emotional when he's gotten blessed with you by his side

and he vowed to spend the rest of his life making you feel as loved as you made him feel

Jisung:

would probably be a bit nervous

like he knows you are an idol as well but you haven't worked together before

he doesn't want conflict to arise from this

but he is also really excited

is hoping for it to be centred around dance

purely just because he wants to impress you

is a little nervous when it's revealed to be vocal and dance because he thinks you're a better vocalist than him

but you make sure he knows he has a beautiful voice to listen to

you are such a point of comfort for jisung

if he's ever feeling down or insecure all he needs is to hold onto you and feel you stroke his hair and it's like everything's okay again

doing this collab with you was such a confidence boost that jisung wasn't expecting

you brought out the best side of him no matter what you were doing

and jisung knew nobody could love the way you two loved each other

[shadowboxmind]

Maybe a hot take, but I don't think the Traveler was being inconsistent or out of character in the last archon quest at all. People are getting upset at their reaction to Lyney and Lynette's behavior from the perspective of players, with meta knowledge of the story that the Traveler, the character, doesn't have.

The players know, for example, that because they're playable characters, Lyney and Lynette are ultimately friendly and on "our" side, and we can also trust that what they told us about their backstory is true. The Traveler does not have that knowledge.

TO BE CLEAR this post is talking about my thoughts on the TRAVELER'S thought process. If we want to talk about how I personally would have reacted to the situation, I'm an overly trusting bleeding-heart who would absolutely get scammed and probably murdered by Fatui in this universe.

(Also characters, even main characters who you normally like, can do things you disagree with and that doesn't mean they're badly written. I mean, sometimes they are, but I don't think that's true in this particular case)

But think about it! Looking at the entire situation from an in-universe, in-character POV, it's a really bad look for Lyney and Lynette overall, because here are the facts as the Traveler is aware of them:

Lyney and Lynette are not only members of the Fatui, the primary antagonistic force in this story, but are specifically members of the House of the Hearth, which is known to specialize in espionage, subterfuge, and sabotage.

Both of them also work in a field that would further require them to be masters of misdirection, audience manipulation, and drama.

They "coincidentally" ran into the Traveler right as they arrived in Fontaine and immediately began to do them favors and be very friendly, including saving them from Furina, bringing them to meet their family, and gifting them VIP tickets to Lyney's show.

During the trial, the twins withheld key information, and not just about their identities (and listen, I get it, I fully empathize with why they did it, I get the reasoning, but it's still a bad look when it gets figured out) but also about what they were doing in the tunnel.

They admitted that the entire magic show was a ruse to do, guess what? espionage! To break into the room with the Oratrice's core and find out how it works. To, through subterfuge, obtain Fontaine's secrets about the nation's most important mechanism and central source of power.

The Traveler has known these people for like, a day total.

So what conclusions might the Traveler draw from these facts? When the evidence shows that Lyney and Lynette have a record of misdirection and obfuscation for their own ends? When the Traveler has no way of knowing if even their initial meeting was orchestrated for an ulterior purpose? How are they supposed to know if the tragic backstory is even true, or if that's just Lyney trying to win back some favor and sympathy? In my opinion, at that moment, they don't. Hence the coldness.

My interpretation of events is that the Traveler does like the twins, and wanted to keep liking them, but was struggling to reconcile their initial impression of two friendly magicians with the realization that these two friendly magicians were dishonest with them for most of the time they'd known each other, so they needed to have some space to figure that out.

And for those saying the Traveler is inconsistent, here's the thing: they still helped Lyney. They still acted as his attorney, investigated thoroughly, won the case, and cleared his name. They've done similar for other Fatui members in their acquaintance—they helped Childe with Teucer, they helped Scaramouche/Wanderer with getting his memories back, they helped that other member of the House of the Hearth fake her death and escape the organization—whether or not they fully trusted them, and generally they didn't.

As for the Traveler's supposed hypocrisy, my view of their relationship with Childe is that it's only improved because, despite Childe trying to nuke Liyue in the past, the Traveler knows that

a. They can handle him if it comes down to a fight again; b. He likes them, regardless of if the feeling is mutual or not, and is indeed aggressively friendly to the point where it's easier to just be civil; c. Childe is generally upfront and honest about his actions and will strike from the front, not stab them in the back; and d. He's worked together with them before when they had a common goal (for example, the labyrinth they went through with Xinyan).

They know how his mind works and what motivates him. Childe is a known quantity, the twins are not, and it took in-story time and shared experiences for the Traveler to get to even this point of neutrality; they were openly suspicious of him during his story quest.

As for holding his Vision for him, the Traveler didn't exactly volunteer for the job, Childe literally threw it at them with no warning and peaced out. What do you expect them to do, drop it in the sea? That would be inconsistent with their characterization.

Wanderer's whole situation is even weirder, since the Traveler was able to experience his actual memories and emotions and therefore has good reason to trust that he's had a genuine change of heart. Not to mention that they're not friends, I'd argue they're in that same nebulous "neutral" zone, and that only because Nahida usually functions as a buffer (and also because, again, the Traveler knows that they can handle Wanderer in a fight, and Wanderer also tends to be blunt and honest).

Also, in Lyney's story quest it seems like everyone got over their problems pretty fast and they're all chummy now, so you can all rest easy that the twins' feelings weren't too hurt about it.

Anyways if you disagree go ham, refute my points, whatever, just keep things civil.

[cixteenyne]

Diluc is Daddy

In honor of this, I turned it into a short little brainrot despite it not even being a request.

Enjoy

Content warning(s): use of daddy/mommy (parental role terms)! Diluc and reader are married, reader is female, breeding kink, vulgar wording (cock, pussy, the usual)!

Diluc wasn't a rough guy, well he was- but not with those he loved to his very core.

If that was as true as you wanted it to be, then you wouldn't be bent over the counter of ‘Angels Share’, a hair's breadth away from the view of prying eyes, all of them just drunk enough to pass off the creaking, slapping and groaning as roughhousing and a “bard's bad ballad” with a dry throat, because of course, what else could it be in their minds?

Diluc had a particularly meticulous day, drunkards all over the place, Charles seemingly nowhere to be found until just 3 minutes ago, 7 orders per person on a celebratory night he suddenly has to supply for? Ridiculous is his mind, and it would be just as ridiculous in yours if you were able to use it at the moment, but your brains were currently being fucked out of your eyes in the form of hushed tears and hurried breaths only faintly heard.

It was like you couldn't think straight, and you wouldn't be able to even after all of this, you never were. His cock was able to ruin you like that.

Diluc seems to make it his mission to get you both noticed, teetering on the edge of public indecency, just for the scare factor, that factor that made your pussy clench impossibly tight around him when he whispers how close you both could be to getting caught, or when you think you hear someone getting a bit too close, only for him to speed up- daring you to break your cover.

you could never tell what went on in his head in these moments. He was a man of privacy, but when he got like this? All frustrated, annoyed and overworked, he seemed to toss all of those privacy ideals out the window just to enjoy you to your fullest, never caring about who interrupted, he knew he'd just keep going, and possibly go even harder, faster- deeper. 

It was a miracle the counter wasn't shaking from the sheer force of his cock hitting the deepest parts it could, He would always apologize when he was like this,

you didn't know what he was apologizing for really, for not being able to fit all of himself inside your needy cunt? For being so rough? For not being able to help himself when you did your best to get away from prying ignorant eyes.

He always had some body part on you, his cock was already impossibly filling you, but that wasn’t enough, he needed to be closer, melt into you, merge with you until your body was able to know him and react to him as well as his did yours.

His chest always pressed into your back, a hand on your hips, keeping you in place, making sure you'd never want to leave him. Trying to quell the slight shivers of the counter, placing a steady hand on the edge he had you placed on.Kisses everywhere you could think of, he wanted you to know he was remorseful for his roughness, but that didn't mean he was sorry enough to stop the relentlessly delicious pace of his hips slamming back and forth, seemingly trying to push something that isn't there inside of you.

And he was.

Ever since he'd put a ring on it, you were his, he'd claimed you in body, soul, and mind, everything else had been checked off, but until you were full of his children? That could never be crossed off the list.

you were going to make him a daddy, you would be such a pretty little wife, a mommy to his child, that he put inside you, something no one else can do.He repeated his mission as if it would speed it up, and maybe it would “F-…..uck, make me a’daddy baby” 

A whisper of a mantra he didn't dare break, his breath mixing with his voice as it cracked and broke under the intense load he was holding back. he would make you a mommy and he would be daddy.

Diluc is indeed daddy Anon.

(Please do not copy!! Inspiration I will let slide…just let me know! Yea you can still reblog bbg ahaaa😜.)

[charismabee]

I like STP swap aus in theory but I find how I've seen people do them a little strange (not bad tho they're still cool n stuff and I like them very much)

Like they're just... making the princess bird shaped without actually examining what swapping the Shifting Mound and Long Quiet's role in the narrative would mean. (Not meant to be negative)

Let's take the Narrator for example. In Slay the Princess he wants to kill the Princess because he wants to stop death forever. But the Long Quiet isn't death, he's stillness, lack of change. This completely changes the Narrator's core motivation. It can work though. Maybe he's in a world that has stagnated, no change, no innovation. It feels like rot, so he decided he had to find a way to be rid of it. Or maybe some other explanation. This would change his core world view, what he might consider a good end, how he acts a bit, lots of things.

Speaking of the good end, that's definitely not going to be an eternity of stagnant bliss, we literally just killed the personanification of stagnation. You could think around that too. Remember I the stranger route when everything was happening at once and it was the same as nothing happening? Maybe that happens. Without stillness the Princess is met with a barrage of constant change and stimulation, everything happening at once. The Princess could realise it is Nothing as much as it is Everything and that gets her out of it.

The Long quiet would be interesting too, because he doesn't change, it isn't in his nature to. Instead, he fractures. Perhaps instead of finding his multitudes you are shattering him. Breaking off parts of him so he can see them from the outside and know them. Once enough pieces of him have been broken off he will shatter completely and finally be able to see all of him, would talons pick up his broken pieces, would wings made of textured nothingness wrap around them and embrace them tightly? Would he reside on a hill of squirming hands or bodies, lost in the centre of the shifting mound?

Perhaps without a need for agency, or someone to make a decision the Voices would just exist as their own thing. First one that claims to be a Hero, who claims to have agency in their story (a part of reflected in her, the Long Quiet does not need to shatter to be able to see him), quickly joined by a Paranoid and terrified victim, an Opportunist Scammer, a Stubborn opponent. Different, but not changed. Not the one person molded into another.

Even the construct itself would be changed by who it is created to kill. Perhaps when the Princess first arrives on the path in the woods it is autumn, a sign of the seasons changing, there is life and death and nature and cycles, but on that 3rd Chapter, it is summer. The leaves are green and waxy, everything is preserved in a completely silent stillness. Maybe there is a horror in that no matter how you get there those silent woods are always the same, unchanging.

Unlike the Long Quiet, the Shifting Mound does change. She is naturally malleable. She has no need for voices because whatever action you take becomes what she would have always done. Perhaps her body changes, giving her new advantages, the body of a vicious Beast stalks towards the cabin, hunger tinting your choices through a cabin twisted to suit her needs. A goddess glides towards her temple, willing it to be large enough to fit her. A dainty Princess hurries to find her Prince charming in a fairytale cabin. The land twists under her will, whether she realises that or not, only giving resistance when too close to the 'monster' kept down there. She is change, it is only natural she causes it.

Even stuff like how to get rid of him would change, because can you actually kill the absence of something? The natural state of things before they shift? The shifting mound is motion and for everything to be in motion all the time means nothing can ever really happen at all. There is no fulfilment in anything you do if your opinion on what to do changes every moment you exist. Perhaps to truly 'kill' him she needs to make him smaller, change what cannot be changed to make the stillness that will be broken, the things to be changed. Perhaps he will break them out of there and thank her. Perhaps without a way to know himself he slowly fades into a nothingness, trapped in an eternity of stagnation that change herself refused to save him from.

It is still a love story, he is naturally inclined to help her, she will always love him, but things have changed.

Anyway this is just a dumb little ramble because I was thinking and it's nearly 3am so this is probably nonsense anyway. I do really like swap ideas they're interesting and stuff <3