#There was also the fact that we were told that he was just a mortal guy but im atributing that to the fact my primary school was christian

[bugwolfsstuff]

I love how out of all the myths Cú Chullain has the ireland school system (or atleast my primary school) decided to tell us about the time he killed a guys dog cause he was late to a party

who thought that was a good choice? Can you imagine the conversation in the meeting for that decision? Like:

Person 1: You know our lad Cú Chulainn ? What's a myth we could tell our children about to show how much of a cool man he was?

Person 2: How about the time he fought the phantom queen herself ?(An Morrigan, but thatd mean they'd actually have to teach us about our gods, the horror!)

Person 1: Nah how about we tell them about the time he killed a guard dog with a sliotar cause the dog attacked him after he was late to a party? I'm sure that'd be a hit with the young children who probably love doggies!

Person 2: Ah yeah awesome idea! And while we're at it, how about we tell the christanized versions of our countries myths while we're at it! (again, might have just been my school)

[haggishlyhagging]

In 1847 the stereotypes for male and female writers were very rigid. Critics expected from a male writer strength, passion, and intellect, and from a woman writer they expected tact, refinement, and piety. They depended on these stereotypes so much, in fact, that they really didn't know how to proceed, what to say, or what to look for in a book if they were unsure of the author's sex.

So Jane Eyre created a tremendous sensation, and it was a problem for the Brontës. The name Currer Bell could be that of either a man or a woman and the narrator of Jane Eyre is Jane herself. The book is told as an autobiography. These things suggested that the author might have been a woman. On the other hand, the novel was considered to be excellent, strong, intelligent and, most of all, passionate. And therefore, the critics reasoned, it could not be written by a woman, and if it turned out that it was written by a woman, she had to be unnatural and perverted.

The reason for this is that the Victorians believed that decent women had no sexual feelings whatsoever—that they had sexual anesthesia. Therefore, when Jane says about Rochester that his touch "made her veins run fire, and her heart beat faster than she could count its throbs," the critics assumed this was a man writing about his sexual fantasies. If a woman was the author, then presumably she was writing from her own experience, and that was disgusting. In this case we can clearly see how women were not permitted the authority of their own experience if it happened to contradict the cultural stereotype.

But even more shocking than this to the Victorians was Jane's reply to Rochester, a very famous passage in the novel. He has told her he is going to marry another woman, an heiress, but that she can stay on as a servant. Jane answers him thus:

"I tell you I must go," I retorted, roused to something like passion. "Do you think I can stay to become nothing to you? Do you think I am an automaton, a machine without feeling and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips and my drop of living water dashed from my cup? Do you think because I am poor, obscure, plain and little, I'm soulless and heartless? You think wrong. I have as much soul as you and full as much heart. And if God had gifted me with some beauty and much wealth, I should've made it as hard for you to leave me as it is now for me to leave you. I am not talking to you now through the medium of custom, conventionality, nor even of mortal flesh. It is my spirit that addresses your spirit, just as if both had passed through the grave and we stood at God's feet equal—as we are."

This splendid assertion violated not only the standards of sexual submission, which were believed to be women's duty and their punishment for Eve's crime, but it also went against standards of class submission, and obviously against religion. And this sort of rebellion was not feminine at all.

The reviews of Jane Eyre in 1847 and 1848 show how confused the critics were. Some of them said Currer Bell was a man. Some of them, including Thackeray, said a woman. One man, an American critic named Edgar Percy Whipple, said the Bells were a team, that Currer Bell was a woman who did the dainty parts of the book and brother Acton the rough parts. All kinds of circumstantial evidence were adduced to solve this problem, such as the details of housekeeping. Harriet Martineau said the book had to be the work of a woman or an upholsterer. And Lady Eastlake, who was a reviewer for one of the most prestigious journals, said it couldn't be a woman because no woman would dress her heroines in such outlandish clothes.

Eventually Charlotte Brontë revealed her identity, and then these attacks which had been general became personal. People introduced her as the author of a naughty book; they gossiped that she was Thackeray's mistress. They speculated on the causes of what they called "her alien and sour perspective on women." She felt during her entire short life that she was judged always on the basis of what was becoming in femininity and not as an artist.

-Elaine Showalter, ‘Women Writers and the Female Experience’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

Five Minutes - L.L.

Pairings: Loki x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not Proofread, Smut, Oblivious!Reader, Reader in Denial, Horny!Loki, Loki's use of magic, Intern!Reader, Dubcon (if you squint), Threesome (technically), Mutual Pining

Wordcount: 2,009

Summary: Loki has it bad for you. Having recently graduated from college, Tony Stark recruited you to work for him in his lab. A certain tall, dark and mysterious god takes a quick liking to you. He loves teasing you, and it's very clear that he wants you. To everyone but you, of course. Loki begins to use his magic to strip you of your defenses, but how will you respond?

A/N: Hey guys! I hope you enjoy this little imagine I wrote up! As always, thank you all for your support on all of my other stories, I appreciate every single one of you! Without further ado, some fresh Loki smut.

The Avengers compound amazed you. There was so much to see, and Tony Stark had become somewhat of a father figure for you. He was very encouraging and for the most part, you were enjoying your start at the tower. You felt like the Avengers were like your family now. Natasha, Thor, and Steve were all like older siblings to you. Thor's brother Loki, however, had made several advances towards you. You always felt that he was teasing or that he wouldn't be interested in someone like you. You were a mere mortal, and although you were intelligent, Loki was a god.

However, he was a god who knew what and who he wanted. And he had his eyes set on you. The team didn't completely trust Loki yet. So, whenever they found themselves on a mission and you were stuck working in the lab, Loki always seemed to make his way up there to see you. On a typical day, he was always hiding in the library. But whenever you were in the lab alone, he was there to find you. Today was one of those days.

Loki also loved to comment on your lab gear, as he thought it was adorable. Your goggles, lab coat, your face shield. It was just simply adorable. So, when he spotted you in the lab, doing some experiments, he internally grinned. He opened up the glass door leading inside, and immediately you glanced up at him. "Oh darling, why can't you just be mine already?" You giggled, but avoided the question. "Loki, how many times have I told you that you need to be in proper lab attire to be in the lab? It is far too danger-" Loki shushed you by placing his index finger over your lips.

"And how many times have I told you I'm a god, love?" You glared up into his eyes. "That doesn't mean you're immortal from chemical burns, Loki."

"Aren't you bored up here?" He asked you suddenly. "No, thank you for asking. I'm quite entertained by what I'm doing here."

"So that means you don't want me to tear those clothes off of you?" Loki proposed. "I- I- um-" You stuttered, clearly flustered by his question. He shushed you again with his index finger. You blushed, pulling away from him slightly. "I'm working."

"You can't just take a little fifteen minute break?" He pondered. You went to speak, before he spoke again. "Actually, we both know it'd turn into much longer than that." He winked, and your cheeks turned into an even deeper red hue.

"Okay, doll. I'll leave you be. For now..." The god left your presence, and suddenly you felt a longing in your chest for him. You did like Loki. A lot. But you felt that his teasing you must be completely silly and only due to the fact that he was completely and entirely out of your league.

╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

The next time you saw Loki was when the Avengers returned from their mission later that day. Tony called a post-mission meeting in the team room to talk about strengths and weaknesses of the team and how improvements could be made.

You sat down with your cup of water, ready to talk with everyone about how the mission had gone. Everyone was alive, so the conversation was promising. In addition, no one ended up in the medical wing of the tower. Therefore, the meeting was to take place in the conference room in mere minutes. Tony, Thor, Natasha, Bruce, Steve, yourself, Loki, and several others sat among a large table.

Tony began with an overview of the mission, and although you tried your best to pay attention, you couldn't help but zone out unexpectedly several different times. You went for your glass of water, taking a small sip.

However, Loki had other plans. He formulated that a combination of your white blouse and water would be a delightfully - nearly lethal - one. With a flick of his hand, the water slipped out of the glass and onto the fabric that now coated your chest. The fabric that once hung loose, complimenting the shape of your breasts now completely surrounded them, and Loki loved the sight. You cursed to yourself, then got up and retreated to your room to change. Everyone understood why.

Loki, being his mischievous self, created a clone of himself to watch upon the meeting, while the other followed you to your bedroom.

"Darling, are you alright?" Loki knocked on your door with little to no hesitation. "Yes, Loki! I'm alright. Thank you for asking. Just getting changed!" In an instant, Loki transported himself into your room. Your white, lacy bra exposed to him, along with your tight black pencil skirt leaving little to the imagination. You gasped.

"I wouldn't mind helping you get undressed..." Loki spoke, shocking you. Your heart started to beat faster and faster. "I- um- we have a meeting to attend, Loki." Although you had always sensed Loki's teasing towards you, it was always your understanding that all it was was teasing. Nothing more. But this - this was different. He was standing in front of you now, seeing more than most men ever had. Recognizing just how much you were exposed to the god, you attempted to fold your arms across your chest, which he immediately pulled back down to the side.

"Don't hide yourself from me, darling." Loki's voice was soft, yet stern. You gazed up at him, your innocent doe eyes doing more to him than you could ever imagine. Loki felt himself hardening more, if at all possible. "Let's make a deal, Y/N L/N. If I can get your precious mortal form to cum in 5 minutes or less, then you become mine."

You stood still for a moment, like a deer in headlights, completely shocked from his words. If you were honest, you had no idea that Loki even knew your last name. "I- I-" you started, unable to pursue words any longer. "Do we have a deal?" Loki spoke, more confidently than ever. "What do you mean I become yours?" You almost snapped at him, suddenly becoming somewhat agitated by the pressure of Loki's presence. "Your delicious physical form will be mine, your mind, your heart, all of it."

"So a slave?" "No, not a slave. I worship you too much. I just want you." You looked perplexed for a moment. "But why?" "Darling, shh. Your questions are terribly incessant. So, do we have a deal?"

"I would like to adjust the terms slightly. If - and I mean if - you can make me cum in 5 minutes, you can take me out on a date. Being a piece of property just really does not appeal to me in the slightest." In all honesty, you did not anticipate Loki taking your bid for a mere date. "Darling, I do not view you as property, not at all. However, I will accept your offer for this 'date.'"

And with that, Loki placed his lips firmly on yours. Slightly in shock, you pulled away for a mere moment. "Ah ah ah, we need a timer." You pulled out your phone, setting a timer for 5 minutes. He planted a kiss on you once more, wasting absolutely no time stripping you of your skirt, bra, and panties. 4m 53s.

He pushed you onto the bed, magically ridding himself of his own clothes as well. With the snap of his fingers, his clothes were removed, the green dust dissolved and they quickly dissipated, revealing his brilliant body underneath. 4m 47s. 

His cock stood at attention, its length prominent. Certainly larger than you had taken previously. You had begun to doubt the possibility of Loki even being able to fit inside of you. Before you could question it further, you felt Loki’s heated breath on your labia, his fingers parting it slightly so he could coax forward your clitoris towards his tongue. 

He brought his mouth to sit around your clit, suckling lightly as he got you warmed up. Similarly, he brought his fingers to massage your breasts, paying special attention to your nipples. Suddenly, a magical green aura flashed, and a second Loki was upon you, taking your lips in his, twisting his tongue amongst yours, and almost most importantly, bringing your wrists up to hold in restraint above your head. 4m 32s. 

Your heat became considerably wetter, especially now that there were two Lokis playing with you. You moaned, which was mostly absorbed by Loki’s mouth, which was still toying with yours. You felt your nipples get pinched, at this point you weren’t sure by which Loki. You just knew pleasure, and that you were writhing with it, overwhelmingly so. 

You felt a teasing finger prod your entrance, almost beckoning you forward to beg for Loki’s member. However, you were distracted enough by the gentle kisses that were being placed on your lips, that you didn’t want to pull away from aside from the ever so slight breath that was needed for your pleasure to continue. Loki’s tongue continued to swirl around your clit teasingly, as your canal spasmed around his finger. 4m 15s.

You felt Loki’s lips release from yours, while you still felt the pressure from the other Loki lower. You let out a brief moan, making eye contact with the Loki above. “Good girl. Let me hear your beautiful sounds, darling.” 3m 57s. 

“You’re quite wet down here, my love. How would you like to feel your God inside of you?” The other Loki spoke from below, while simultaneously continuing to play with your clit and inside of you. You nodded feverishly, desperate to feel more than just Loki’s fingers in you. “Say it, my love.” “Please, Loki. Please.” 

“With pleasure, darling.” 3m 28s. The other Loki who was kissing you disappeared into green dust, as the first stood up. “I prefer this part to be more intimate, just the two of us.” 

Suddenly, Loki’s tip prodded against your opening, he took his time swirling around it before gently pressing inwards. You let out a moan as his tip entered you, pressing against your walls. His girth was certainly more than anyone you had been with previously. He is a god, after all. “Fuck,” you cursed. 

Loki tsked. “Be a good girl for me” he slid inside of you with a sudden movement, fully penetrating you. 2m 45s. 

“Oh my god” you moaned. “That’s right, your god.” 2m 22s. 

Loki brought your legs to his shoulders, thrusting steadily inside of you as he kissed your lips. You had never felt this much pleasure in your life. You groaned out as Loki released your lips from his. “Feels good, doesn’t it baby?”

“So, so good” you moaned, his pulsating inside of you more and more consistent, more intense with every stroke. “You’re so good for me, love.” 

Your legs shaking with pleasure as Loki continued his persistent pounding of your canal. 1m 57s.

“I’m-” you stuttered, Loki hardly giving you a chance to catch your breath as warmth built inside of your stomach. “You’re what, darling?” Loki questioned teasingly, knowing you barely had it in you to answer. 1m 34s. 

“I’m gonna- oh my god.” 

“You’re gonna what, love?”

“Cu-cum.” 

“Cum with me, darling. Now.” 1m 2s. 

You felt Loki’s hot fluids coat your insides, as your pleasure brought you to the most incredible orgasm of your life. Loki, staying inside of you, brought his mouth to yours to continue his delicate, yet intense, displays of affection. “Looks like I got about a minute to spare, my lady. So when’s that date?” 

Loki slid out of you, landing next to you on the bed where he could snuggle in close to you.

“Well, let’s count out today, I won’t be able to walk until at least tomorrow.” Loki placed kisses on your cheek and jawline as he held you close. 

“We’ll stay here until then, my love.”

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #25

New Year, New Me?

Imagine dis…

We all know that when Danny died, he changed. From his black hair and blue-eyed kid to a white-haired and green-eyed ghost kid. We also know that ghosts were once humans just misunderstood, had unfinished business, or were just out for the injustice they have faced in the face of death.

But what if Danny is just a baby ghost in every sense and now, he is getting more powerful and more tuned in with his ghostly side that he began to change?

…

Danny knew that there was something wrong with him, not just the fact that he had died and came back alive and well that’s a whole other story. The fact that there is something wrong with his ghostly side, that to the point it began affecting his human side. His jaw began to ache and when he looked into the mirror he saw some of his teeth beginning to sharpen like a canine would, his hair looked like it wasn’t held by gravity as his parents had chalked it up with him using a different type of conditioner to make it more fluffy, his skin began having these weird spams in the middle of the day as well his uncanny need to stay in a cold room Mr. Lancer swore 10 book titles under his breath when he saw him taking a nap inside the cafeteria fridge.

But the worst of it came when he fought Skulker, it was another normal Thursday for the Halfa but as he was fighting off Skulker who was already spewing out his usual rant about mounting his pelt he saw another figure. Behind Skulker is another figure that looked like him more shadowy yet bloodied, covered in rusty metal that he swore he heard it creaking as if two metals were grinding to each other, with each move that Skulker made. Seeing he was distracted Skulker made a lucky hit to him as if he was back in his first year as a ghost. Danny shook his head and immediately souped the ghost and tried to forget the more horrific and unsettling version of Shulker.

Danny tried to hide it but when his friends and sister began noticing his changes, they made him visit the Far Frozen.

Frostbite was confused and worried at his changes and explained to Danny in great detail that what he was going through was a ghostly equivalent to puberty.

Since he had recently died his ghostly side had registered him being a baby despite being in his teens in his human. Normally ghost children would not transition after 5 centuries as they have not only been deemed absorbed enough ectoplasm but also have been mature enough a good example would be Box Lunch who was barely 146 years old while Youngblood was nearing his transition.

Frostbite offered a conclusion that it may be a fact that he slept on top of the active portal which leaks massive ectoplasm radiation and when he fought off ghosts who are centuries older and more experienced than him made his ghostly side mature faster, like how children were forced to mature faster when incompetent parents are around. Now that he has not only become more attuned or in one with his ghostly side, but his ghostly side is also slowly forming his eldritch abomination kinda like human symptoms of puberty like broadening of shoulder, pitch voice…etc, Frostbite explained.

Danny asked about his sight when Skulker visited him as well he felt that time. Danny was still distraught when he went home but when he had the time to process what he saw, instead of feeling scared or deep panic at what he saw instead felt a deep relief at the image.

Frostbite told Danny since he is transitioning to becoming a young adult, what he is seeing is the true form of ghosts.

The citizens of the Infinite Realms are naturally terrifying, gruesome, ghastly, ghoulish…etc for years there had been no problem with their appearance but when the first Ancients went to visit a mortal plane for an official Realm duty, they were horrified to see that not only humans scream with pure unaltered fear but also went brain dead the moment they laid their eyes on the said Ancients as their minds cannot comprehend the sheer true form of the said Ancients. As the said Ancients felt guilty for what they had caused the humans went in a vegetable state and began practicing into shifting into a more humane form, something more modest as to when they visit another mortal world in case of another duty. As the practice was only practiced in a small island that the Ancients ruled it soon spread out to the entire Realms. It spread so far that even other Ancients began copying it and it didn’t take too long for it to become a norm.

So when the Fenton portal as well as Vlad’s portal opened it became instinctive for the ghosts to pass through to where their more “humane” side and only show their real appearance in their haunt or when they have a mate or to their respective fight mates.

Frostbite gave him something for the pain and offered to help Danny with his transition, which Danny gratefully thanked the yeti and flew off.

Since then he slowly yet surely became accustomed to the changes to himself as he felt more him. His friends and sister tried to hide it from the Fenton couple despite being oblivious that they would surely notice the changes. Fake teeth and make-up did their thing as Sam may not enjoy the pinkish/feminine side of her make-up collection courtesy of her parents but sure damn well those foundations are of good quality.

His ghostly companions that came for their weekly brawl began noticing the large shadow behind their local halfa, some were horrified as they thought they were fighting a baby all this time and were just in their transition but others had congratulated Danny for basically growing up. Maturing? Transitioning? They don’t know the right word but hell yeah they are proud.

Add to the fact that he just became the Ghost King, which means that his ghostly side will be more horrific, gory, and ghastly than a usual ghost as their real form reflects their strength.

…

Danny didn’t know but for some reason, Amnity’s CPS launched an investigation into the Fenton couple. Had found out that having a house? Structure? Home? Full of weapons is not a viable home for a teenage boy like himself and was promptly removed from their custody and the premises. Of course, the Fenton couple tried to fight off the verdict, heck even Vlad tried to help the two for the sake of Maddie and even tried to have Danny placed with him.

In the end, Danny is relocated to a far place away from his parents as well as his godfather one of the CPS workers pointed out that Danny has bruises every time, he visits Vlad which puts him under the scrutiny of a different kind of investigation as well.

Jazz was considered out of the hostile environment as she had just moved from their home to her dorm and had just been given a protection order that said that her parents including Vlad were to stay away from her as well as have no contact with the said individuals as it may affect the proceedings.

Danny bounced from one foster to another up until he ended up with the foster parent who had the greatest record, Bruce Wayne himself.

At first, Danny tries every trick he can think of in the book to be removed as well as isolating himself within his room in the manor to be transferred as the moment he went ghost to look at his surroundings and saw the secret basement as well the Wayne family being the glorified furry brigade he wants out! He is not sharing a roof with a fruit loop thank you very much, but as the days went by he began getting used to the Waynes and thought that he may have grown to the Waynes.

Though how come Duke smiled too tight whenever he saw him?

…

Duke knew there was something wrong with the new kid. Don’t get him wrong black hair, and blue eyes alongside a so, so situation with his parents made him the prime adoption bait for the family. They were just waiting for him to discover the cave on his own to be officially introduced to the family. But there is something so wrong with Danny.

Sure, his diet tends to have his meat lean more on the medium rare side or even to the bloody side, and chalked it up to growing up not learning how to properly cook and brushing it off.

Sure he is too quiet to the point he is scaring and surprising highly trained vigilantes which has multiple people being trained by the best in the world.

Sure he tends to go to places which is cold, too cold for his liking, Alfred nearly had a heart attack seeing Danny sleeping in the large freezer which contained the meat and other perishable items that needed to be frozen to preserve.

But the biggest thing that made Duke uneasy was the shadow looming over Danny. It was huge to the point it reached the manor ceilings. Its very green toxic eyes seemed to lock on him every time he entered the room. Duke accidentally made eye contact when he is hanging out with Dick, Tim, and Danny. It practically swallowed him whole with the way it looked at him, it made all of his hair straighten up. Dick who noticed him froze up and asked him what was wrong, he excised himself and ran to the farthest corner of the manor and proceeded to throw up his lunch due to the unspeakable things that things showed to him.

(In reality, Danny’s ghostly side is trying to show Duke what would he do to his enemies as well as to whomever harmed them)

Duke is now contemplating what to tell the rest of the Batclan how Danny is cursed. Haunted? and have them call Zatanna or Constantine to get rid of whatever it is.

…

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: As you can see I cannot write horror to save my life so please pardon me, I tried my best…:-P

[inbabylontheywept]

xc lends itself to stories well because it has all the weird overlapping insanities of group dynamics and hypoxia and Male Bonding and definitely a little bit of masochism.

and for my second xc story in like a week, we used to do this run down to the local public pool in the summers of hs because the temp was like, 110-115. fucking bastard heat. and this one girl had The Audacity to wear this extremely normal and fine two piece swimsuit that showed approximately a half inch of waist and a bellybutton. this of course was a mortal insult to one particular group of mormons who were so scandalized that they talked to the coach who in turn talked to the group about how Someone Wore a Two Piece Swimsuit and it made Some People very uncomfortable and that the dress code was now one piece swimsuits. and of course the poor girl was absolutely mortified.

now, the varsity were actually really good people in general, but one of them, who i shall name RJ, was just awesome. that sonofabitch could run like a 14:00 5k, but he still had this big ol potbelly, and he was the only person i knew who didnt get nauseous after running. the absolute brainfuck of running in the 110 degree heat along the canals, just struggling to breathe, and then getting smoked by this potbelled toothpick eating a bag of flaming hot cheetoes is just hard to understate. hed go up into the stands during track and buy hotdogs. just a legend. fuck that guy, but you know, in the way where im really just jealous of him.

anyway, RJ took genuine offense to this girl being called out for her totally normal swimsuit so when the next public pool run came around he showed up in a speedo. and it was the xc hivemind thing, where we all knew if we could just, somehow, keep the coach from noticing this guy until we actually pulled out and started running down the block, we were golden. so me and a bunch of other guys gathered around him like the secret service, and we did our stretches, got ready and left, and then RJ, being the beautiful majestic man muffin that he is, popped his shirt off, ran directly to the front of the mormon group, and proceeded to give himself the most brutal wedgie i can describe. practically stretched the speedo over his shoulders. you couldnt get a clearer vision of this mans ass with the hubble telescope.

so the mormon group tried to pass him, which was like stupid of them - nobody passed RJ unless they were willing to piss blood. they tried, they tried so hard to get around him and avoid the blaring eyewatering burn of this mans ghost white ass, but it didnt work, so they tried slowing down which is also something RJ could do indefinitely so eventaully they just kind of gave up and tried not to notice the extremely noticable hairy white butt camped in front of them for the entire three mile run to the pool.

the coach did notice about halfway through the run, but by then there wasnt much he could do. we argued very eloquently between panting and coughing and generally suffering that a speedo is, in fact, a one piece swimsuit, and thus the letter of the law had been fulfilled. id say, i dunno, maybe a hundred of us argued the case.

surprisingly, there was no follow up conversation banning speedos. RJs disapproval of the ban wouldve been enough, but the speedo underlined it in red a few times and at the next run to the pool, several other girls wore tankinis and nobody said shit.

(RJ told me if they had, the next run to the pool wouldve just been him winnie-the-poohing it, and i almost dont doubt it.)

[ghouldump]

Just read your Armand fic and it was SO good, I was wondering if we could get a prequel or separate piece on vamp reader in the theatre?

Masquerade | Lestat x Reader

ෆ even with your horrific background, he fell deeply for your heart.

thank you, i enjoyed this very much. the fact that this is a month old is embarrassing. someone else requested loustat + Claudia w/ vamp reader and theater but i accidentally deleted it. also in this Lestat hasn't had Akasha’s blood yet.

“Mr. De Lioncourt, you’re on in five,” the stage director said nervously, peaking into the dressing room.

Staring into the mirror, he couldn’t stop the heavy weight on his lifeless core. Perhaps it was due to the homage he had been contemplating.

Fixing his soft hair, he stood, adjusting the half-buttoned top. Taking large steps, his walk emitted confidence, his head held high, in his mind, a recessed warfare.

The piercing screaming became louder as he moved closer to the stage. After months of traveling and backlash from other vampires, as well as the media, he was finally at his last show of the world tour.

“Lestat! I love you,” he could hear his fans screaming.

Smirking, he chuckled, while his thoughts drifted to the ancient days, enjoying the sight of mortals marveling at his presence. In Paris, the city adored him with a love so great, while also managing to shred his heart into pieces. Stopping next to the backstage staff, one of them held the box, protecting the precious relic of his. Opening the lock, he carefully placed the delicate mask on his face.

Holding his head elevated, he closed his eyes, it all seemed like only a little while ago when he met the one who would make him fall deeply in love, through music.

“Y/n, do you have any new songs written? We will be having a special guest joining us tomorrow,” Armand asked, as you slowly met his eyes.

“Yes, I’ve made a few ideas,” you nodded, timidly.

“May I see them?” He asked you, smiling as you hopped out of your seat, handing him the papers with haste.

“Thank you, my love,” he told you, leaning to place a soft kiss onto your lips.

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“The others will be hunting later, you are free to join them,” he said, reaching for your veil, and covering your face, before walking away.

Once Armand was out of sight, you slowly sat back down, your fingertips lightly brushing against the piano keys. Humming the melody, you smiled, knowing he would be satisfied with the song that went beautifully in his play.

He was a few decades away from being two centuries old when you first met. In a sideshow, you were the most popular act of the next night. The circus was traveling throughout Europe when they finally arrived in Paris. ‘Come and see the Devil’s Mark’, they called out, catching the interest of people passing. Inside the large tint, they'd gasp at the sight, confused by the sight.

“Why does she have that on her head?”

“She was kissed by the devil himself, and it left her with the face of a monster, Y/n, entertain your guest,” hearing the sound of the whip cracking, your fingers moved on their own, against the stringed instrument.

A few left out of boredom, some through peanuts at you, while others through coins. You were seen as nothing more than a show, no more than the animals kept. Although you knew better than to act against them, this place, these people, they were all you'd ever known.

Suddenly, a scream broke out, filled with agony, others rushed out, wanting to either get away or find out what was happening. You could see the shadow of people, running further away, some of them getting tackled, screeching for help. When the man came into the tint, your trainer, backed away, turning to run, before the man quickly killed him.

Your eyes widened, seeing the man move quicker than the blink of an eye. Lifting his head, he looked your way, and instantly, he was in front of the cage, tearing the door off. Staring at him, you watched his milky white teeth, dark red blood covering his mouth, and icy blue eyes.

Slowly moving to the ground, he tilted his head at you, before ripping the sack from your head. Immediately, you turned your face, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him.

“This face is something else,” he laughed. Moving his hand, covering the left side of your face, his grin widened.

“You aren't so bad on the eyes, as long as this side is covered, maybe I should keep you, how old are you?” he asked, you struggled to understand him, through his thick broken English.

“18”

“Beautiful and you want to die?” he smiled, listening to your thoughts, the entire time you had been bracing yourself, waiting for the final blow to take you out of this life and into the next.

“Yes,” you admitted. Stiffening as he caressed your cheek with his glass-like nail.

“Those who love their life will lose it, and those who hate this life gain anew, your greatness will make up for the misery this face has brought you,” he told you before his fangs sank into your neck. Draining every ounce, you could hear your heartbeat escaping your body, as you weakened. Pulling away, he cut his wrist, pressing it against your mouth for you to drink.

“Do you have a name, child?” he asked you, as he pulled his arm away.

“Y/n,” you mumbled, lying on the ground, your stomach was beginning to churn.

“My name is Nicolas, and I am your maker,” he smiled at you, as you began groaning.

“Nicolas, is there a reason you're hunting in territory that isn't yours?” hearing the voice, he turned around, facing the brown man, or boy, he couldn't tell from the youthful face.

“What are you talking about?” Nicolas asked, frowning.

“My coven resides here and you have been wreaking havoc, never once making your presence known, it is punishable by death,” the man explained, meanwhile, you began puking up your insides.

“My apologies, I could sense others nearby, but it didn't cross my mind that it could be a coven-

“You are careless, to kill by the hundreds out in the open and thoughtlessly create a fledgling, you are unworthy of the gift, and a threat,” he said, fire appearing in his hand, before Nicolas was set ablaze.

Dropping to his knees, you watched as he turned into ash before he could completely hit the ground. Wiping the vomit from your mouth, your maker, whoever he was, was now gone. Armand’s gaze went to you, and lifting from the ground, he floated to you.

While his face held no emotion, he thought of himself, and his past, feeling a bit of compassion for you.

“Would you like to join our coven?” he asked you. Nodding, you didn't know what you had become, whatever Nicolas was, but you knew you didn't want the same fate from this man.

“Then come along, we will find a place for you in the theater,” he said, furrowing his eyebrows as you grabbed the sack, placing it onto your head. Slowly standing, you felt like a new creation, your head lowered under the man’s gaze.

“You will feel very hungry, but I will show you how to hunt adequately, what is your name?” he asked.

“Y/n,” you whispered.

“I am Armand, come now, the others are waiting,” he said, turning as you attempted to keep up with his steps.

Armand was not only the coven’s leader, but the director of a popular theater. Humans came nearly every night to them all, everyone having specific roles. The others weren't the nicest to you, but they also weren't mean. You stayed to yourself, and they let you be.

It wasn't until one night, the theater was closed, and you were supposed to be cleaning, everyone had left for hunting. Cleaning each seat, you scrubbed any dried food under the chairs. Humming lowly, you couldn't get a certain tune from an earlier play from your mind. Making up your own lyrics, you continued humming the melody. Standing from your knees, you jumped, seeing Armand standing on the stage.

“That was you singing?” he asked, surprised.

“I-I’m sorry,” you cowered.

“I never asked, why you wear this?” he motioned at the sack.

“I was born different, no real reason, my old trainer, Agnes, said I was probably kissed by the devil,” you said.

“May I see your face?”

“I don't kn-

“Please?” he asked. It was the first time I heard the word, someone saying it to you or even coming from Armand’s mouth.

Sighing, you pulled it off, shutting your eyes, bracing for the nefarious critiques. However, he didn't say anything, his hand softly holding your jaw. The entire left side of your face was in short observations, scarily scarred. Briefly after birth, you had been in a terrible incident, leaving the left side of your face comparable to a healed fourth-degree burn.

“This isn't as horrible as you make it out to be, and to be wearing this old sack on your head,” he told you, grinning.

“I don't want to scare anyone,” you told him.

“I think that is scarier than your face, you obviously didn't hear it enough, but you are beautiful with an angelic voice, would you like to be in the play?” he asked.

“I don't feel comfortable-

“If we found a way around that, would you be willing?” he asked, smiling as you, hesitantly nodded.

And so, he stuck to his word, surprising you with your very own custom masquerade mask. Fitting perfectly against the side of your face, while leaving the other side free. You felt more confident with the mask, as it hid that side of you. Soon after, Armand introduced the veil to you, along with the equally theatrical dress.

His reasoning, he said he would make you the star of the stage, without anyone pointing out the mask or having questions about your face underneath. You went along with his words, trusting him, and onward with practicing the lines.

The show was a captivating success, with roses being thrown at you, along with whistles and claps. Bowing, you thanked everyone, waving your gloved hands. Later that night, when you were helping clean up, Armand scared you.

Sneaking up on you, he congratulated you, while you blushed, your face burning profusely. Praising his judgment, you thanked him, before he kissed you. Ending your night in Armand’s coffin wasn't a part of your plans, but it seemed right.

Your relationship, despite blossoming, was unconventional. You acknowledged it, overhearing a few coven members gossip about you. In your eyes, Armand became your idol, he taught you new abilities, helped learn new instruments, and provided intimacy. You eventually recognized that he wasn't as serious about you, as you were about him, but rather possessive.

He forbade you to form any other companionships, persuading you to wear your stage costume continuously. While a piece of you was hurt by these actions, you had no experience before him, and were sure you would have none after, so naturally you accepted his terms.

Now over a century since then, you remained at Armand’s side, being the lead vocalist in nearly all the the plays. If only you knew, how much things would change in a matter of months.

Standing from the piano, you went to your coffin, the others would be returning soon, and the sun would be rising. You were interested in seeing the special guest Armand spoke of, but you would have to wait and see.

“What are you doing? Use your fucking brain?” you could hear Armand yelling at the coven members. They were setting up the stage, as he stood in front of the chairs.

You sat alone in a booth, far off, a small xylophone in your lap. Tapping each key, you hummed the tune of your song. Opening your mouth, you began to sing lowly, your eyes widening as you felt a gust of wind behind you.

“Is this an original piece? It sounds lovely,” the voice said, making you turn around, revealing the handsome man. Lofty, blonde, sharp jawline, full lips, you had never seen him before.

“I-yes,” you said, moving your eyes to floor, as he squinted trying to catch a glimpse of your face.

“Lestat,” Armand called out, turning to face the two of you.

“I told you I’d come,” The man named Lestat said, a smirk in place, as he bowed.

“And you are?” he asked you.

“Busy, Y/n, go read over your lines,” Armand said, watching as you nodded, appearing in front of him, accepting the papers from his hand, and disappearing into his office.

“Keeping her to yourself?” Lestat asked, tilting his head.

“Y/n is a century older than you, she isn't interested in a newborn like yourself,” Armand grinned at him.

“But you are,” he said, making the older vampire roll his eyes, walking to continue making preparations.

You could feel the eyes of Lestat on you, as it was time for you to come from Armand’s office. You never had actual words for the play, rather allowing your singing to move the audience. The others complained and muttered that it was Armand’s way of not forcing you into reciting with everyone.

Sitting on the prop, you looked towards Armand, as the curtains opened. Singing to him, for the people, is how you always looked at it. He smirked in pride, satisfied with how everything played out. Your role, the grim reaper, serenading your victims as they pleaded with the audience to save them. Finally, death came to collect, the coven members attacked their prey, while the crowd cheered loudly for you.

Bowing your head, you waved at everyone, as the curtain closed. The show was now over, and it was time to hunt. You didn't exactly hunt with the coven, despite everyone sticking together like a pack. Even after over a hundred years, you didn't feel confident to lift your veil around anyone, except your targets. Armand was a bit lenient, letting you stray away from the others.

Watching the young man leave the bar, you followed him, leaving a bit of distance between the two of you. He was beautiful, doll-like, with youthful features on his glowy skin. The further he walked, the more empty the area became. Slowly lifting your veil, as he approached a nearby alley, you attacked, dragging him into the darkness. As his body went limp, the flames appeared in your hand, before you burned his body.

“Did Armand teach you how to do that? Is he your maker?” you heard as you covered your face, turning to face Lestat.

“Yes and No,” you said, going to past him, when he blocked your way.

“Why do you cover your face? Like…a bride,” he smirked.

“Armand will be expecting me back”

“With a voice as beautiful as yours, you shouldn't hide your face, everyone should see the countenance behind the magnificent voice-

“Y/n,” Armand stood behind Lestat, slowly walking around him.

“Oh, I think he's jealous Y/n, he wants to keep you locked away for himself,” Lestat told you, as you approached Armand.

“Meet with the others, straight to your coffins,” he instructed, reaching for your cheek. Nodding, you kept your head down, leaving as quickly as possible.

As you closed your coffin, comfortable, mask off, you smiled, thinking of Lestat. He was carefree, he didn't care about rules, and wasn't scared of anyone, or anything. If only you could be like him, maybe one day.

“Everyone get in your positions,” Sam ordered, as everyone ran around.

Armand was away for business, meaning you had the night off until he returned. You never complained, accepting the rare days, and watching the plays from Armand’s booth. Sitting comfortably, you smiled as the lights dimmed.

“Hello, ma chérie,” you heard, a hand pressing against the veil to stop you from gasping.

“You frightened me,” you mumbled.

“Shall we go out for a walk?”

“I'm watching the play,” you whispered.

“The same play that ends the same way every single night, it won't do you any harm to miss one,” he said, sounding persuasive before you took his hand, allowing him to take you away.

“Now that we're alone, will you tell me why you wear this veil?” Lestat asked as he walked in the direction of the park, your hand still in his own.

“If you knew the reason, then you wouldn't be so nice to me,” you told him.

“How will I know, until I see,” he said.

“You have no reason to see it,” you put your head down, taking your hand back, and speed-walking away.

“I yearn to see the face behind the beautiful voice?” he smirked, as he was instantly in front of you.

“Armand said you are a newborn, when were you turned?” you asked him.

“A year or two ago, I lose count,” he shrugged.

“You sing too? Why not travel outside of France?” you asked him.

“I could ask you the same thing”

“I am a part of a coven, I couldn't just up and leave” you shook your head.

“Armand wouldn't approve”

“Is Armand your maker?”

“…No, but he is dear to me”

“But are you to him? I've heard a few things about your…situation, you're not even his companion, but he keeps you to himself, why?”

“He has had compassion for me”

“And so you feel you owe him everything?”

“I do”

“Even denying yourself more, more than simply being his doll, that he can play with and toss the side whenever he wishes,” he said, as he moved closer to you, his body centimeters from pressing against your own.

“Just a peak, ma chérie, I won’t utter a word after,” he said, as you slowly stared at him, unmoving as he lifted the veil.

He gazed at the mask but didn't say anything, as his cool fingers touched your cheek.

“You exceeded my expectations,” he said, as he took in your facial features, your skin texture, marks, moles, freckles.

“No need to lie,” you said, a bit harsher than you intended.

“I have seen men and women of all kinds, and I have no reason to lie when I say, you are beautiful,” he said, as he grabbed your hand, pulling you back.

“I need to get back to the others, it is best that we stay away from each other,” you told him, turning back to the theater.

“I can't promise I will be as obedient to your leader's commands,” he said, watching as you walked away.

Lestat kept his distance for a while until you received the sudden news he'd be joining you in a play. It was a renowned success, something the theatre hadn't experienced in years, bringing humans to tears at the heavenly duet, before punishing your victim of the night.

He became a recurring guest, who refused the idea of joining the coven. Everyone was surprised Santiago wasn't jealous of him, but he admired him too much to be bothered by him taking the position of leading actor.

You steered clear of him, outside of your performances, to avoid upsetting Armand. Yes, he was jealous, and no, you may not have been companions, but you didn't blame him. He was extremely traumatized from his past and for that became controlling and untrusting to most, but once you gained his trust - he was a godsend, and you didn't want to ruin that for a newborn vampire you'd just met.

Then it happened, after the usual set, you found yourself sitting on the roof, watching as the others left to hunt. Holding the small music box, you humming the melody, your heart aching. You'd overheard a few members gossiping about you, questioning your secretive nature.

Masquerade, Paper faces on parade

Masquerade, Hide your face so the world will never find you

Masquer-

“You don't think sitting up here alone is a bit gloomy,” Lestat spoke.

“It will sound different once it is performed,” you mumbled.

“Then I hope you don't mind me joining, perhaps I can add my touch,” he said, moving to sit next to you before you could answer.

“Lestat, Armand won't be pleased,” you shook your head.

“It is ridiculous how much you care for his feelings, considering he isn't your companion”

“He has been more than generous to me”

“By making you wear a masquerade mask, along with a gown as if you are a widow, I trust your judgment,” he said, sarcastically.

“He spared me, he could have killed me, as he had done to my maker, but he helped means taught me how to even live as a vampire,” you confessed.

“But he did not give you your talent”

“No,” you shook your head.

“Then I see no reason for this appearance, you have a voice unlike any other I’ve ever met, your eyes-

“My voice has nothing to do with my eyes, my face, he saved me and in return it is his”

“What could have happened to you for you to willingly settle for so little?”

“Excuse-

“Take off the mask,” he said, catching you off guard.

“No,” you said, awkwardly.

“We won't be able to fix this deep-rooted insecurity, whatever it is until you remove all of the layers that hide you,” he said, standing up, and hovering over you.

“Or you could mind your own business,” you said, seconds before screaming. Lestat had quickly taken the mask off, watching as your hand covered your face, nearly clawing in disgust to cover up.

“Please, I beg of you, give it back,” you cried, holding out your other hand, your head down.

“Y/n, look at me,” his eyes softened, it was one thing to see you quiet and standoffish - that was normal. However, seeing you bitterly weeping, your nails almost piercing into your face, he was concerned.

“Please, I’m sorry, just-give it back, please,” you said.

“Look at me first,” he said sternly, inaudibly gasping as lifted your head.

“Are you satisfied? Am I still the beautiful star you thought me to be, or do you finally see the monster hidden under the veil,” you spat, the blood-stained on your cheek.

“Is this what he has told you? This is nothing comparable to a monster, if anything, it makes you stand out. A beautiful voice, with an equally beautiful face, you just HAPPEN to be unique,” he told you, reaching to hold your chin, making you look at him.

“That isn't true, I don't want pity-” You were caught off guard as he pressed his lips against your own.

“You are very beautiful Y/n, you haven't been reminded of it, but you are. I haven't been able to get you out of my head since that night, you lifted your veil for me. You tug at my heart, with the simplest glances, don't ever think I am saying anything about you for pity,” he said, pulling you into another kiss.

“Come with me, to my place, we wouldn't want your leader interrupting,” he said, in between kisses, as he kissed along your neck.

The last thing you expected was for his place to be a dark abandoned dungeon, but his attentive skills made you indifferent to the environment. Finally, the passionate tango, you straddled his lap, your head on his chest, as he sat up leaning against the wall. Reaching for your mask, he stopped you.

“You don't have to be so quick to put it back on, I enjoy seeing you this way,” he said, kissing your scarred skin.

“I have to get back soon,” you told him.

“I want you to leave with me, be my companion, and we can travel the world, you can be the star I know you are,” he said, wrapping his arms around your body.

“You want to be my companion?” you asked, confused.

“I want nothing more than to be your companion, to love you for an eternity”

“What about Armand?”

“How he feels is irrelevant to me, he has kept you around as his toy, but I will lick your wounds if you accept me,” he said, wiping your tears. Nodding, you mumbled, ‘Yes’, as he kissed your lips.

“I have to get back now, we can start planning after tomorrow night,” you said, as he nodded in agreement, kissing your lips, before you look the mask, pressing it to your face.

By the time you were in the basement of the theatre, everyone was in their coffin, but Armand. He sat in his office, the light dim, looking up at you, as you came down the stairs. In an instant, he was in front of you, going to speak, you stared confusedly, as he lifted the veil, smashing his lips against your own.

“I missed you,” he said.

“Sorry, I changed my mind and ended up going hunting,” you lied.

“It is alright, will you join me tonight?” he asked.

“I’m too tired to do anything,” you put your head down, but he quickly lifted it, pecking your lips.

“And that is fine, I will hold you, come,” he said, grabbing your hand, and leading you to his coffin.

“I don't tell you too often, but I am proud of what you've become,” he wrapped his arms around you, as he shut the top.

“Thank you”

“No, thank you”

Watching from behind the curtain, you peered at Santiago as he recited his typical lines. Suddenly, you felt a hand on your lower back, making you turn around, your eyes widened, seeing Lestat.

“Why are you all the way over here?” you asked, but he ignored the question, pecking your lips.

“You look perfect, it will only be a short while before we are together away from this place,” he said reassuringly, lowering your veil, moving to the side, as the curtain opened, closing behind you. Looking towards the crowd, before setting your eyes upon Armand, you began to sing. However, mid-song, a commotion could be heard backstage, as the music sped up.

Glancing at Santiago, you noticed the unusually dark gleam in his eyes. The curtains opened again, revealing coven members, dressed as judges. Your heart immediately sank, as others brought Lestat onto the stage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the true show of the night has begun,” Santiago chuckled. Going to rush to Lestat, you fell to your knees as pain shot through your body.

“This, my dear friends, is Y/n, our grim reaper, she takes hold of souls that face judgment, but who judges her, you will,” he said, making the audience cheer.

“What are you talking about? Armand, what is he talking about?” you asked, but they both ignored you.

“The gracious vampire Armand has done nothing but save her, she was in a freak show, her maker, she didn't even know, and instead of killing her, he took her in as his own, kept her secret,” he smirked, as you realized this was real.

“Armand-

“The ancient vampiric laws, she has broken number two, and while it wasn't her fault, she chose to leave with this secret,” he continued, watching as the audience cheered in anticipation.

“Y/n, be a doll and take off your veil,” he said. Frozen in your mind was all over the place, trying to understand why this was happening, how you could save Lestat, how you could save yourself.

Taking too long for the judges, with a simple glance, you began screaming, pulling the veil from your hair.

“Stop it,” Lestat screamed, trying to get up, but they seemed to have had him stuck in his seat.

“The dark gift, it shall never be given to children, the crippled, OR THE MAIMED,” he screamed, ripping the mask from your face, cutting your cheek in the process.

Lestat grunted and growled, trying to get up, but the more he fought, the more pain he felt.

“I’m okay,” you tried to reassure him, yelping as Santiago picked you up by your hair.

“See this hideous face, a face, not even a mother loved, yet Armand cared about this abomination, and in return, she went behind his back, planning to leave with a newborn,” he spat.

“Armand, I’m sorry,” you cried, but he kept a straight face, watching from his book.

“And Lestat de Lioncourt, from the moment he has stepped into this theatre, he has been puffed up with arrogance, and while that isn't a sin, he was willing to be an accomplice to help Y/n escape, despite seeing her monstrous face, so we will begin with him, guilty or not guilty?” he asked.

Using all of your strength, you controlled every human in the room, blood leaking from your eyes.

“Not guilty,” you muttered.

“g…NOT GUILTY,” everyone screamed, catching Santiago by surprise, but Armand saw you, and it only infuriated him, even more, to see you protect Lestat.

“And Y/n, her pathetic excuse of a maker is thankfully dead, but she is nothing more than an abomination that should have never been created, so I ask you, guilty or not guilty?”

“GUILTY”

“and her punishment?”

“DEATH”

“The jury has spoken,” he said, tossing your mask onto the floor.

“I am sorry Armand, that I didn't leave you sooner, I’ve allowed myself to be used for far too long for your benefit. I am grateful for your compassion, but only because through it, I was able to meet my companion. I love Lestat and I have no regrets, all I ask is, for you to do it the same way you did to my maker,” you said, smiling, as Amrand clenched his jaw.

His thoughts were loud and clear, you were his, and he could do whatever he wanted with you, sure, this ideology partially came from his own maker, but you knew this already. You could never leave him, your loyalty was owed to him alone, he hadn't made you his companion but he cared about you, in an unhealthy way, and for you to want to up and leave him for some guy you only known for a few months, he would rather see you dead than for you to leave Lestat.

Facing Lestat, you kept the sad smile on your face, taking in his face one last time.

“I love you, mon chér,” you said, before Armand set you ablaze. Your screams of agony flooded Lestat’s mind, as he cried, trying to come to you, but you quickly turned to ash, leaving nothing more than the remains of your gown and your mask.

Releasing him from their hold, he grabbed your mask, before rushing out of the building. Due to his judgment being not guilty, none of them could stop him, as he went to the dungeon. Your lingering scent only made him cry harder, as he clutched the mask. He would keep this mask, as an heirloom, as remembrance, as a promise. He’d love you always, and never forget the feelings you brought upon him.

As the song ended, Lestat opened his eyes, the fans screaming loudly for him. Reaching to remove the mask, he bowed, but seeing the figure in his peripheral, his eyes began to sting. Rising, he fought the urge to cry, seeing you standing next to him, bowing alongside him.

“I couldn't be more proud of you, mon chér,” you told him.

“I’m sorry, my love, I-

“No, you are seeing the entire world, and they love you, that is all that matters to me,” you smiled.

“I love you,” he said, reaching out for you, as you faded away.

The once heavy feeling has left his body, now replaced with sweet memories, you looked just as beautiful as the first time he'd laid eyes on you. He could go on, knowing that maybe, just maybe, you had been with him all along.

[oswildin]

heyy I'm not sure if you still do headcanons or anything like this and if not that's totally okay!! I was just wondering how loki might react if he was invited to spend the holidays with the reader(or if the readers family came to the compound for the holidays, up to you!) thanks!!ᥫ᭡.

Hey!!! I’m happy to do headcannons! Thank you for requesting! 💚

I kept it all very neutral and vague with using ‘festivities’ instead of ‘Christmas’ terminology because I know not everyone celebrates it. I also kept the family terminology vague and just used ‘your parents’ and not ‘mum and dad’ or whatever because I know not everyone has a nuclear family (me being one of them!) No mentions of pronouns for reader.

Avenger!Loki x Partner!You ‘Meeting The Fam’ Headcannons

Loki knew he shouldn’t have been surprised when you had mentioned him tagging along with you for the holidays to your hometown, to spend the festivities with your family, but he still had that moment of shock at the invitation

At first, he didn’t quite know what to say. Him meeting your family? He, the God of Mischief, the war criminal turned Avenger, the morally grey trickster… Meeting… your very human, and highly likely, definitely ‘normal’ family?

It wasn’t quite self-consciousness he felt, but nerves for sure. If his younger self had seen him now, he would’ve berated him for worrying about what mere mortals would think about him, but these weren’t just any mere mortals, they were your mere mortals, your family

When he didn’t answer straight away, you had insisted he could take a few days to think about it and you wouldn’t be offended if he said no, but Loki quickly shook his head, cutting you off

“No, it isn’t that I don’t want to, it’s just-“ “It’s just…?” “Well… I’m… me.” “Yes… you are you.” “You know what I mean.”

You gave him a small understanding smile at that

But after you had convinced him it would be fine, he agreed, wanting to be there for you, to be with you for the holidays - something that seemed very important to mortals, being with family during such a time

Loki could feel his palms get clammy from apprehension and nerves as you both stood outside your childhood home, bags of gifts in your arms

“Loki, trust me, they’re going to love you.”

When the door opened, Loki swore he felt his heart stop, awaiting the look of disappointment at the fact their child had brought along the God of Mischief

But when he was greeted with smiles and warmth, he blinked in confusion, but before he could even begin to process the warm welcome, he was being ushered inside, your parents fretting about him catching a cold

“Can Gods even get a cold?” One of your parents had asked, making you roll your eyes and shake your head in amusement as you glanced up at Loki

You could see the bewildered look on the God’s face as your parents began to fuss, taking the bags from him and not batting an eyelid at the fact he was in their home, and it made your heart soften with a slight ache

“We were told you don’t like anything too sweet, so I made sure we had enough nuts and fruits and such for you to feast on,” one of your parents had told Loki with a smile and nod, making him raise his brows, glancing at you

“Oh, that’s…” Loki cleared his throat. “Lovely. Thank you.” It sounded a little awkward, but your parents didn’t pay much mind

As the evening went on, Loki had began to relax slightly, quietly watching the new dynamics unfold with a keen eye. He watched the way you interacted with everyone, seeing how at ease and comforted you were at being home. He had to admit, it was infectious

When someone suggested playing a game, Loki’s eyes lit up. Now this was an area he was good at

It was then he began to come out of his shell, although, he wasn’t exactly shy, you could tell he was unsure how to navigate this new realm - the realm of ‘meeting the parents’

Spending time with your family reminded him of past moments with his own, the lighter times, the fonder memories

“See, it’s not so scary is it?” You had teased him later on, Loki giving you a playful glare. “I never said it was ‘scary’.” “No?” “No, I don’t believe those words came from my lips.” “Ah, my mistake. It’s just… when I mentioned it you look like I’d just told you I’d murdered someone and that we had to hide the body…” “Shh, I’m enjoying my nuts.” Of course, you laughed at that

And as he spent the next few days with your family, Loki began to feel a sense of warmth and gratitude for being invited, for being involved and treated as though he wasn’t a God, a Prince, an Avenger with a dark past and morally grey tendencies…

He was just treated as Loki, just as you treated him as such

He even received a gift to open from your parent, which he hadn’t at all expect and felt a little guilty that all he had brought was a bottle of wine (expensive but not particularly thoughtful because he had no clue what to gift them)

It was a simple gift, an cotton scarf in his signature colour, but the thoughtfulness behind it warmed him - a feeling that he was experiencing rather a lot in you and your families company. Of course, he knew you would’ve given your parents some tips on what to get for him, and his heart swelled at that thought

Loki had never really understood the festive season, finding it a commodity and just another way for mortals to send money needlessly… but…

It was safe to say he was beginning to understand now. And he found that he was becoming fond of it

“Maybe… Next year we can do this again?” He had asked you when you were alone, a soft look in his eyes, a glimmer of hope. And of course, you smiled, nodding, happy that Loki seemed happy. “Of course we can. Although, i think they may actually be considering swapping me out so you be their child instead.” You had joked, making Loki chuckle. “Well, who am I to deny such attempts?” You gasped playfully, lightly hitting him on the arm. “Hey!” “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure they leave a place for you at the table.”

Loki playfully smirked before wrapping his arms around you, embracing you in a silent thank you for letting him experience it all by your side

[brbzonedout]

Dear Lover,

It’s only been a month since you’ve last seen your girlfriend. Fall season had just began and the summer session at camp halfblood had just ended. Regardless of the fact you missed each other dearly after three months straight of practically living together, seeing each other every day, and having all of your meals together being states away was utter torture.

On top of that as a demi-god your access to technology is heavily limited since those stupid monsters found a way to track you through cellular data. Now those late night calls you so desperately wish for are limited to a goodnight text and a heart emoji on the side.

Fortunately one recognizably dull day in the beginning of July the mail was dropped off your house as it does routinely. Although this time something unexpected came. A red envelope with a small hand drawn shield on the front was left in the box and it was addressed to you.

Dear Y/N,

Hey Y/N, I’m writing this i’m the morning so good morning. I know it hasn’t been that long since we’ve seen each other in person but being away from you for this feels unnatural and talking to you through text and dm’s isn’t enough for me. I was talking to one of the year rounders at Aphrodite cabin and he gave me the idea to do this, it feels a lot more intimate than texting and it’s like journaling which reminds me of you. I’ve been missing you a lot during this week, we’re preparing for capture the flag and it’ll be weird being on the field without you regardless of what team you’re on. Speaking of battle field I finally got my spear fixed so that should be fun to have back. I also talked to Chiron about getting in contact with my mortal family like you said and we were able to find my grandparents! They still live in Arizona and said I could visit and stay for as long as I wanted. They thought I was missing this entire time, insane right? With that I was hoping before I went over there I could stop in D.C. and see you for a few days. If your people say no that’s alright but I still wanted to ask just to see. Going back to the Journaling thing I’m still doing it and you’re right it does really help with my temper I haven’t had a write up since the last time we saw each other. That’s still not entirely my fault though it was your idea to go swimming after curfew. You know it’s funny you’re such a good and bad influence on me at the same time. This is my first time writing a real letter to anyone so I hope you like it, you don’t have to write back if you don’t want to or feel like it I just wanted to try something new. I wanted to just call through Iris but you know she’s busy during the other seasons, just in case she’s not I put a few drachmas in the envelope. I love you and I miss you just get back to me some way, any way baby.

Love,

Clarisse La Rue ⚔︎

P.S.- If this is boring to read i’m sorry I didn’t really know what to say. I love you have a good day ♥

After reading the full letter tears began to well up in your eyes. This was truly unexpected of her. Some time into your friendship one of her cabin mates told you about the the letters she’d write to her mother when you found one hanging out of the drawer. But since she didn’t really want to be found the ones that she did send out never got a response, she never added a return address. Once she grew up and did start adding it let’s just say her mother still wasn’t able to write back. To have received one from her is something you never thought would happen no one was ever meant to know about this side of her. The only reason the single bunk mate knew is because she was caught writing once and the only reason she told you is because she knew Clarisse had a crush on you. She did lie about never having written one but you understood.

Suddenly while wiping the tears from your eyes the raindrops on your window and the sun shining in created a small rainbow that cast itself into your bedroom. Without hesitation you carefully reached into the envelope as not to rip it and pulled out a drachma.

“Oh Iris goddess of the rainbow, please accept my offering. Clarisse La Rue Camp Halfblood”.

With a kiss to the coin you threw it into the rainbow and in disappeared into thin air. Suddenly in the blink of an eye a tall girl with long curly brown hair appeared in the rainbow with her back turned.

“Hi..” You said smiling.

Startled she turned around abruptly, noticing who it was she smiled and breathed a sigh of relief. “So you got it huh?”

[libraryraccoon]

How Amusing : Liyue P1

P1 <- P2 -> P3 (coming soon)

TW : Bad english, english isn't my first language.

Gender : GN

Pronouns used : They/Them

Other Infos : The people in Teyvat think they are an 'he'; No proofread; I was thinking of publish it on Quotev too.

The imposter had arrived in Liyue. Some citizens had seen him with Aether, walking quietly to the other side of the Wangshu Inn. They immediately told Keqing who told Ningguang, and just like that the news was spread : the impostor is in Liyue, and Aether is accompanying him, having betrayed them.

Many did not believe that Aether had betrayed them, Xiao was one of them. After all, why would Aether, so intelligent and wise, side with the imposter ?

But as he watched them, talked and walked around, he had to resign himself to the fact that yes, it was true, Aether had betrayed them.

“What ? Girl name ? Name have gender now ?!” ask the imposter.

“You will be surprised.” Said Aether, the traitor. “The mortals like to give a gender to everything that moves, even clothes.”

“CLOTHES TOO ?!” The impostor seemed shocked by this fact.

Xiao was in charge of espionage, he had to follow them and look for some kind of weakness in this impostor, without being noticed.

He must have followed them for hours - they never stopped walking except for the evening, when only there they made a small camp.

“I still don't understand why we have to stop.” admitted the impostor.

“Because compared to you, to have energy, I need to sleep and eat and drink.” Aether said, he seemed a little amused as the imposter huffed dramatically.

“But sleeping and resting is no fun !” the h/c haired man complained. “You know what is ? Chaos. Fire. Explosions.”

So the impostor don’t need to sleep and don’t like it ? And he also don’t like to rest ? Another proof that he wasn’t the real creator. Their creator love to sleep and rest, he say that it help him to think.

But, that also meant that the thing, this impostor, was not sleeping, so any easy capture - which was capturing him while sleeping - is impossible.

Aether ate and went to bed; the imposter had talked with him throughout the meal about visiting one of their old friends, unfortunately they did not say any names. The imposter hadn't eaten or drunk, and he watched Aether fall asleep, promising to keep watch that night - to which the blond responded with 'you always keep watch.  Just try not to kill anyone this time'.

After a few minutes, the impostor moved away a little. Xiao followed him, but at a turn, he just disappeared. Xiao looked around a bit, but couldn't find him - he had just vanished.

<----->

The Creator knew they were being followed, and so did Aether. Shortly after they arrived in Liyue, an adepti arrived to watch them from afar, to spy on them. The Creator did nothing and asked Aether to do the same. They wanted to see how far the adepti would go, what he would do.

But, after half a whole day and after they had understood that he would stay the night watching them; They lost their patience and decided to ask him directly why he was spying on them. Aether had told him that the Adepti were fighters, stopping at nothing, not that they were spies. Plus, he was bad at spy work, really 2/10, easily noticeable if you look up.

“You were spying on us.” Said the Creator for behind the Adepti – Xiao, Aether call him Xiao.

Xiao quickly turned around, brandishing his spear. The Creator blocked it pretty quickly, catching it before it hit them.

“Good reflexes.” admitted the Creator. “You're better at that than spying, that's for sure.”

The adepti gave what mortals call a glare. “How long have you known?” he asked - stupidly in the eyes of the Creator, they saw everything.

“The beginning. You're not very discreet.” says the eternal one. “Just look up to see you... Pretty disappointing if I'm honest.”

They had known many spies, the best, they had even trained some on Gallifrey a short time ago - a short time for them, a long time ago for those on the planet -.

“A beginner, right ?” they ask. “First time spying ?”

“That doesn’t matter.” The adepti didn't seem to really want to answer their question - not that they needed to, they already knew the answer just by looking at him. “What have you done ? To Aether.”

“Huh ? Aether ? What about him ?” ask confused the Creator. What was Aether doing here ? They know Teyvat saw him like a hero, but why asking that ?

“Aether. You have done something to him, this is the only explanation.”

“Of what ?”

“Him thinking you are the real creator, and not the impostor that you are.”

Oh- right, they are an impostor for the mortals of Teyvat, yeah, right. Oh ! How amusing their reactions will be when they will realize that they were wrong all along ! The Creator could not wait for this moment !

“They did nothing, and I always was on their side.” Said a voice from behind them. The Creator turned around to see their blond child - yes, their child, they adopted him - who seemed tired and angry at the same time. A very bad mix if you want their opinions.

“No, you’re smarter than that, Aether. He’s an impostor.” Xiao said, The Creator dropped the spear and moved away a little, wanting to give them some privacy.

“They are not.” Aether pressed a little on the pronouns - even after a month, they still didn't understand why pronouns were so important for mortals, they accept all pronouns- “They are the real Creator.”

And it was at this moment that The Creator slipped away without a sound, disappearing into thin air. The two seemed to know each other, to have a history between them, and they (The Creator) didn't want to get involved. They liked chaos and drama, not problems problems.

They appeared in the camp, and waited.

Aether returned 5 minutes, 43 seconds and 12 thousand seconds later, saying that they had to leave as quickly as possible.

“Don’t you need to sleep ?” asked the Creator.

“That don’t have any importance, we have to move before they get you.” Aether said, taking his stuff.

The Creator sighed before touching Aether's forehead, using a crumb of their magic to remove all the fatigue in the blond's body, replacing it with energy.

“I don’t want you to collapse from fatigue in the middle of walking.” is the only explanation they provided before starting to walk, Aether following them.

Tag list : @moosieman12345 @angelofdarkness2 @ash1

[tyrantisterror]

Who's THE Devil?

You know, from, like, The Bible?

One of the things the various takes on Hell more or less agree on is that there is one demon among the legions of Hell who more or less reigns supreme - The Devil with a capital The. What they rarely agree on, however, is which devil that is. So, for funsies, let's look at all the candidates for The Devil, shall we?

Belial

The concept of demons arguably predates Abrahamic religions, at least if we take it at its most nebulous definition of "supernatural people from an Other world who are somewhat antagonistic toward humanity." But the more specific and probably more familiar version of them began with The Book of Enoch, one of many texts that were deemed non-canonical by Christians yet still holds a great deal of influence on Christianity as a whole. It's an extended account of the Noah story, positing that a group of angels rebelled against heaven because they wanted to sleep with mortal women, and created a race of giant half-human half-angel offspring called the Nephilim (Goliath, of David and Goliath fame, was one of the nephilim). God wasn't happy with this, and sent the rebel angels to a fiery pit before killing most of the nephilim with the big ol' flood (though Goliath's lineage survived somehow I guess).

It's not quite how most people picture the War in Heaven and rebellion of the angels, but it's nonetheless where that story started, and that makes it important. This is the first take on what would become the classic origin story for demons and Hell itself. And who is the leader of the rebel angels in this story? Why our good friend Belial, of course. Belial would remain a prominent demon from hereafter, but despite having the earliest claim for the crown of The Devil, Belial has not remained the frontrunner in the race, and is generally demoted to just being a high ranking demon, rather than the Highest ranking one.

2. Beelzebub

I've talked about Beelzebub before and I don't want to spend too much time rehashing that post, so brief recap: Beelzebub began as a mean nickname for a god from a rival religion to Judaism who was named Baal Zebul, which means Lord of the Heavenly Place. Baal Zebub, by contrast, means "Lord of the Flies." Eventually Baalzebub becomes Beelzebub and, divorced from the original context of its creation, becomes a character in his own right, being a prominent demon. And because Beelzebub appeared in a lot of texts, many of them very old as demonology go, he became a major competitor for the title of The Devil, and remains so to this day. I think it's partly because the name "Beelzebub" is really fun to say, but the sheer history and volume of demonology texts portraying him as a big, powerful devil also help. In the rare stories where Beelzebub appears but does not get to be The Devil, he's still portrayed as fairly high ranking, with both Milton's Paradise Lost and Marlowe's Faust making him The Devil's right hand demon, second in command of Hell. So even when he loses the crown, Beelzebub takes home a good silver medal

3. Asmodeus

Asmodeus is another of our "predates Christianity" demons, right up there with Beelzebub and Belial, and as far as I can tell from what I've read he was originally intended to be The Devil rather than just a devil. It's kind of right there in the name - "deus" means god, so Asmodeus having that name marks him as a demon who thinks himself equal to God.

(well, ok, there's some debate about the full origin of his name, with some arguing the "deus" part was originally a play on "deva," which in turn is loosely translated as... demon. The fact that Asmodeus's name is pronounced/spelled differently to a preposterous degree is part of why the water is so muddy - Asmoday, Asmodai, Asmodee, Osmodeus, it goes on and on)

One of his better claims to the crown comes from the story of Solomon - you know, the wise king who told people to cut babies in half. Solomon's less canonical feats include enslaving a shitload of demons to build a temple for him by way of the rite of exorcism, using a magic ring and the power of Christ to compel the damned to do manual labor for him. Asmodeus is specifically stated to be the strongest demon he summons in part because he is the King of all Demons, i.e. The Devil - and the other demons weep at the sight of their king being reduced to a slave by mortal hands.

Why is this a strong claim? Because the story of Solomon in turn inspired The Lesser Key of Solomon, a text about using the rite of exorcism to summon and use demons to do your bidding. The Lesser Key of Solomon includes the Ars Goetia, which is basically a big ol' bestiary of demons, and where many of your favorite pop culture demons - like, say, Stolas the owl guy - come from. Being the King of all demons in the story that inspired one of the more thorough and exhaustive lists of demons and their hierarchies should count for a lot.

There's one other great claim to fame Asmodeus has in his favor. While not directly named in Dante's The Divine Comedy, the description Dante gives of Satan's physical appearance matches with the most popular descriptions of Asmodeus - in particular, his three heads, one of which is yellow, one red, and one black. Granted, it'd be more of a smoking gun if one of those heads was a bull and the other a goat, but they're all very ogre-like, so I still think it stands. Dante's Devil is, more likely than not, Asmodeus, and that's a BIG point in Asmodeus's favor.

4. Hades/Pluto

Ok, so, a great deal of the Old Testament was originally written in Greek, and the New Testament was written in Latin, both of which happened when belief in the Olympian Gods was pretty strong. As such, the word "Hades" appears in the Bible a lot when talking about the place where dead people go, though it probably wasn't meant to literally be the same underworld as that in Greco-Roman mythology. Probably.

But because Christianity was spread primarily by the Roman empire once they converted to Christianity, and because Europe ended up getting a centuries-long case of stockholm syndrome for the Roman Empire that involved many people in power declaring that Greco-Roman mythology was super important literature and Latin was the language of God Himself, there is a good chunk of Biblical apocrypha that treats the use of Hades as, well, a literal crossover of sorts. Which is to say that Hades the god is sometimes treated as, like, a figure in Christianity, generally a demon specifically. And because he's, you know, Hades, from, like, The Odyssey, people feel he needs to be prominent. I mean, Hades RULED the underworld in Greek mythology, so if we're stealing him for Christian folklore, he should at least be in upper management, right?

The strongest case for Hades being The Devil comes from The Book of Revelation, one of the few books in the Bible that actually contributes to demonology (despite what people tell you, demons really don't show up in the Bible that much - most of what we think of as iconic demon lore come from non-canonical works). You know the four horsemen of the apocalypse? War, Famine, Plague, and Death, right? HA, WRONG! It's Conquest, War, Famine, and Pestilence & Death, you fake horseman fan. Well, anyway the line that introduces Death/Pestilence & Death ends with "And Hell followed with him." Except, no, not really, because the specific word used is... Hades. "And Hades followed with him." Which, depending on how you want to interpret the line, could very well mean a literal, King of the Underworld Hades.

Of course, the problem with using Revelation as proof is that Revelation itself is pretty unclear on who's leading the forces of evil. Is it the Seven-Headed dragon who's cast out of Heaven at the beginning of the end of the world? Is it the seven headed leopard monster that the dragon gives his crown to? Is it the monster who crawls out of the ground to speak for the seven-headed leopard with the voice of a dragon? Is it Hades? Is it God, the one who's allowing all this violent shit to happen and frequently sending his angels to make it way fucking worse? Who can say.

So, while it's not super common, there are more than a few works where The Devil is none other than Hades himself. Disney... might not have been completely off the mark, I guess?

While I think Hades's claim is pretty weak, I should note that one of the works that puts a LOT of Greek mythology into Hell is none other than Dante's The Divine Comedy. 70% of the demons in Dante's Hell are just Greek monsters, with the remaining few being Asmodeus and some OC demons he made up with portmanteu names a la Pokemon. Notably, Hades is one of those demonized Greek figures - presented as the Judge who decides where in Hell sinners end up based on their crimes. He's not The Devil, though, so while Dante kind of helps Hades's case, he also kind of ends up making a counter argument to it.

5. Abaddon/Apollyon

Ok, so, the word "abaddon" is used in some texts to refer to Hell, and sometimes it's personified as well. It literally means "ruin." Well, in time, Abaddon is personified and become a demon, which should feel like a familiar story to you by this point. And because Abaddon can also literally be Hell itself, it's only natural that some stories posit Abaddon the demon as the rule of Hell, much as Hades is the ruler of Hades in Greek mythology. This is Abaddon's big claim, and it's not bad, but it's not super strong. Nonetheless, it was enough for at least one prominent Christian text, Pilgrim's Progress, to make Abaddon (under one of his synonym names, Apollyon) to be The Devil, so we can give him that too.

6. Sheol

The sections of the Bible that are written in Hebrew use the word "Sheol" to refer to the underworld/afterlife rather than Hades. Now, Judaism doesn't have the same Hell as Christianity, or the same concept of Heaven either for that matter, and Sheol is less a place of torment for the damned and more of a waiting room for the dead to hang out in until the Messiah comes.

Nonetheless, Sheol did get personified like Abaddon and Hades, and that personification (which, in some versions, is a batty old lady, which is fun) later became a demon in its own right, and thus, for the same reasons as Abaddon and Hades, has a claim to being The Devil by dint of also being, you know, Hell itself. Not the strongest, most popular claim, no, but a claim nonetheless.

7. Satan

Feels rather obvious, doesn't it? Ok, so, in The Bible, one of the characters who was retconned into being The Devil is the angel in the Book of Job who takes on the title of Satan. In the original context of the story, "Satan" is not a name, but, again, a title - a job title, really, roughly akin to "prosecuting attorney." The Satan in the Book of Job isn't a rebel angel, but an angel whose job is to argue for the opposing view point to make sure everyone is doing the right thing. Less "The Devil" and more "the devil's advocate."

But! Christians fucking LOVE the devil, and they want more devil in their Bible, so many translations treat (the) Satan not as the hard-working servant of God he was originally written as, but as, you know, The Devil, arch-enemy of God and justice. And so Satan becomes synonymous with The Devil, and over time more and more appearances of The Devil give him the name Satan.

I can see an argument for this being the strongest claim, because the sheer amount of works where "Satan" is treated as The name of The Devil is enormous. But I think it's important to note that many of those works actually treat it as a name for the devil, which is to say, not the only name. I guess a lot of modern works think the name is so commonly used that it lacks its punch, and so they have The Devil pull the "I have many names" schtick to sound more imposing.

8. Lucifer

So there's a part of the Bible that talks about a star falling out of Heaven as a sort of metaphor for how people can fall from grace. Well, good ol' King James translated this as not just a falling star, but specifically The Devil himself, giving him the name Lucifer, which means "light-bringer." The King James translation of the Bible is bad in that it's immensely inaccurate, but good in that it's a beautiful piece of poetry in its own right, and since it had the authority of a goddamn king behind it, it quickly became a prominent Christian text and is still the preferred translation of many Christian sects to this day.

So, you know, that's pretty fucking big as claims go. There is one incredibly prominent (if woefully inaccurate) translation of the Bible where Lucifer is The Devil. Kind of hard to fight that one.

But it doesn't end there! I would argue that the most influential origin story for Christian devils, the one that has become ingrained in the cultural consciousness as THE story of the War in Heaven, is Milton's poem Paradise Lost. That's where most of the tropes we associate with The Devil and demons and Hell really come together to form the great devil mythology - well, it and Dante's The Divine Comedy, anyway. You know which name Milton chose for The Devil?

Lucifer.

Well, ok, he also calls Lucifer "Satan" with about equal frequency, but still - Lucifer is The Devil of Paradise Lost. And because of the sheer weight that both Paradise Lost and the King James Bible have in culture, Lucifer has ended up being used as The Devil in countless works since! Not bad for a translation error, right?

While the sheer number and notability of literature that uses Lucifer as The Devil is kind of argument enough for him having the best claim, I'd like to add one more argument in his favor: dramatic irony. I think what draws people to Lucifer is the meaning of his name - "the light-bringer" - and how it contrasts with his role as the king of a pit of darkness and misery. "Light-bringer" is a heroic name, the name of a character who brings hope and joy, which makes it so delicious when it turns out our "light-bringer" is an utter bastard. It's just irresistible, isn't it?

9. Mephistopheles

A good number of demon stories - arguably the majority of them - focus on mortals who make deals with demons and end up damned to Hell for doing it. We call these stories "faustian pacts," and we do that because the most famous story of this kind is the story of Faust, a scientist/alchemist who makes a deal with a devil named Mephistopheles to learn the secrets of the universe and ends up doing a lot of sinning in the process. Since Faust is such a famous and influential story, it only follows that its main devil is frequently viewed as The Devil.

...except

In most versions of Faust, Mephistopheles is not presented as The Devil within the narrative. He's a henchman, a flunkie, with one of the bigger names like Lucifer or Beelzebub pulling the strings. So while there are a number of stories (including a few versions of Faust itself) where Mephistopheles gets to be The Devil, it's far more common for him to be a devil - perhaps a prominent devil, maybe even one of the strongest and a close member of The Devil's inner circle, but rarely the one in charge.

10. Baphomet

Baphomet is a god whose name and appearance was repurposed as a demon by The Church of Satan, and so while I have to admit that is a claim to the crown, I don't think it's a great one. First, nothing about the Church of Satan's belief system is meant to be taken genuinely, with them admitting that they view Satan/Baphomet as a symbol rather than a literal supernatural being they believe in. Second, by rights Baphomet should be allowed to be Baphomet instead of being literally demonized. I honestly think it's better for Baphomet to lose this race than to win it.

11. Iblis

Demons in Islam work differently from demons in Christianity. Rather than being fallen angels, demons are wicked Djinn - a race of people made from fire and smoke rather than ash and dirt like humans. Djinn aren't quite as powerful as angels in Islam, but do have significant supernatural powers that humans lack. Like humans, Djinn have free will and can choose whether to be good or evil - and those that choose to be evil reside in Islam's version of Hell, where they are ruled by Iblis, the first Djinn to choose the wicked path and the ruler of Islam's Hell.

Unlike Christianity, there isn't really any debate on this. Iblis is, for all intents and purposes, the CANONICAL ruler of Hell, The Devil of Islam, and thus has the strongest and really ONLY claim to be The Devil of that religion.

...but, at the same time, Iblis can't really be the Christian devil, because Christianity doesn't have Djinn, and all the iconic parts of Christian demonology kind of hinge on the idea of demons as rebel angels, which demonic djinn very much aren't. So while Iblis's claim in Islam is irefutable, he doesn't have one in Christianity. Ain't that wacky?

I think it should be noted that there are more-or-less canonical texts where Iblis isn't treated as purely evil, either, including one where he actively asks for help in repenting and is turned down because, well, evil has to exist, and someone has to rule over it, and like it or not, that's Iblis's job now. It ends with Iblis wailing that he has become the greatest martyr of Islam. Which is so fucking hardcore, I love it. In Christianity, the texts where we humanized demons are non-canonical at best and deemed heresy at worst, but Islam allowed it to be more-or-less canon. They saw the coolest takes on the Devil and said "yeah we can allow that" - so much more rad than what Christianity did with them.

~

~

~

So, who do YOU think is The Devil? You know, from, like, The Bible?

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

My last post (about Galadriel and Halbrand having sex in Season 1) stirred some reactions, I think I should address them in an actual post, because I know a lot of fellow fans also have doubts about this.

The Tolkien legendarium (or lore) is massive, and ever expanding, and allows for multiple interpretations within what Tolkien wrote. As one Tolkien expert very well said, there is no "Tolkien canon", there is a legendarium, and some plots might fit that lore even if Tolkien didn’t write them himself (example: Sauron x Galadriel); 

“Rings of Power” is building upon Tolkien lore, so there’s also a show canon. 

I was told Galadriel’s pride (and being a princess of the Noldor) would never allow her to “secretly have sex in dark corners with an incredibly attractive, but unknown man with a dark past”. And I can't forget that High Elves do not behave like ordinary people.

Yeah, I don’t know about that, because back in the 1970’s director John Boorman planned a film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, where Galadriel and Frodo actually had sex. And this script was approved by Tolkien himself. This movie, obviously, was never made, but a copy of the script is in Marquette University’s Tolkien collection.

If Tolkien approved of Galadriel f*cking a Hobbit in the middle of the woods, I don’t see why he would be against the idea of her having sex with a “mortal man” she was in love with at the time, in Eregion. At least, there would be some actual emotion involved here (which is more Eldar-like than just randomly having casual sex). Unless, Tolkien actually wrote Galadriel x Sauron and this draft is being kept a secret all this time, and somehow Sauron possessed Frodo to have sex with Galadriel, and that's why he approved this wild take.

In the “Unfinished Tales”, Tolkien wrote that Galadriel and Celeborn were lovers before they were actually married (which is very un-Eldar like). Well, Celeborn wasn’t a rebel, so they might have shared a few kisses while they were betrothed. Either way, Tolkien has clearly established a precedent here, with Galadriel being different from her kin, when sexuality is concerned.

I was told Galadriel was in love with Halbrand but didn’t want to touch him anymore than “fraternal handshakes”. Because Galadriel is a High Elf, and, so, she doesn’t have sexual desires (they will only appear when she wants children).

I don’t recall Tolkien saying that sexual desire, for Elves, only appears when they want to have children. This take isn’t in the “Eldar customs” chapter, where he talks about Elven sexuality. And we do have Elf characters (mostly male) in Tolkien lore who lust relentlessly after she-elves; Fëanor, Celebrimbor, Curufin, etc.  

Tolkien wrote that Elves enjoy sex (the act), but only do it with the purpose of having children, because they have self-restrain (not because they are immune to sexual desire). He wrote, however, that sexual desire usually dies out after the children are born, because the Elves devote themselves to other occupations.  

On the topic of Galadriel not touching Halbrand other than "fraternal handshakes", I remember her touching other body parts:

And this sneaky bastard doing this:

She was pretty much naked when they first met, so I don’t know about this “shame” or need to play coy.

We also saw Galadriel flirting with Halbrand in Season 1, for... no reason? By definition, flirting is a sexual behavior involving body language, where there’s no need for words most of the time, nor actual touching. Precisely because she's a High Elf, it's not like she would be trying to smack Halbrand's ass and wink.

Interesting enough, here, it’s Galadriel who, unconsciously, reaches out for Halbrand’s hand. 

I was accused of carefully hiding the fact that “sex = marriage” to the Elves on my original post.

I didn't. I actually talked about it twice:

For the Eldar sex = marriage. So much so, that a couple is considered married if they exchange vows to the Valar (Tolkien never specified these vows, only that Manwë is mentioned) and have sex (no feast or celebration required): this usually happens when the couple is in flight, and exile, and wandering.  The eternal bond (= marriage; because divorce is forbidden) between Elves happens during sex; when they have sex for the first time their bodies and souls become one (= “union of souls”), and it’s a more intense physical and spiritual experience than for Men. Elves who have not had that union together have not yet established that incredible bond.

Hence, I'm not sure where I hide this fact, exactly.

I was told that Maiar are higher-beings, meaning they are nobler and purer than those below them in Tolkien hierarchy (Elves, Dwarves, Men). And Maiar don’t reproduce (except for Melian). Sauron doesn’t have sexual desire because he’s a higher being, and he’s evil.  

I already wrote about this crap ("Sauron can't love, he's evil") many times, I’m not going to repeat myself: here, and here. 

Maiar can reproduce, if they chose to. Tolkien wrote an entire essay on it "Ósanwë-kenta”. Melian was able to reproduce because that was her choice, she’s not some “special case” among the Maiar. The majority of them probably wasn’t interest in becoming bound to their physical forms, though.

We also have Gandalf, one of the most powerful Maiar of all and one of the Istari, who indulges in “earthly pleasures” quite often. Mainly smoking weed pipe.  

To bring home the point that Maiar don’t care about sex, because they are higher beings, the Valar were used as an example: "the Valar don't have sex at all, they can only be in love" I'm told.

Yeah, no. Tolkien wrote this about Morgoth, when he saw Lúthien dancing for him (and the original draft was even more sexual, with Lúthien almost naked): 

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought.

Morgoth, who's a Vala, wanted to rape Lúthien in this scene ("evil lust", "a design more dark"). That's what Tolkien wrote. There's no love going on here, Tolkien is just poetic with his writing. Meaning, even the Valar have sexual desires. And Maiar do, too.

Morgoth (the literal Devil and the ultimate evil in Tolkien lore) lusted after both Varda (he probably loved Varda, in the beginning, actually) and Lúthien, but his servant (lower in rank) isn’t capable of the same emotions, I hear.

The fact that these are Gods and demigods has literally nothing to do with it. Anyone who’s familiar with worldwide mythology knows that “Gods and demigods lusting or falling in love with humans, etc.” is “today's special” on the menu. 

This, again, comes from the obnoxious idea that Tolkien was (only) inspired by Christianity to create his lore, and conveniently ignore all of his other inspirations: Old Norse/Greek/Slavic mythology, Germanic legends (Beowulf, mainly), Arthurian Legends, medieval tales, etc. Yes, Tolkien was a catholic, but he wasn’t a catholic priest. His work isn’t a copy-paste from the Bible. 

[amethystarachnid]

Hello. I’d like to request a Loki x Fem!Reader. Not sure if you’ve seen Step Up 3 but the song Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan was played and basically in the scene the two love interests did a tango (I would look it up for reference 🩷). So maybe Loki and Reader are on an undercover mission and they get tied into a tango. You can interpret it however you want but I’ve had this ask stuck in my head for a while now. Hope you like this! 🩷🩷

BOUND BY DUTY

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff, flirty

ᯓ★ Requests status: open

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Summary: Loki has been called form the S.H.I.E.L.D. to help the Avengers with an anomaly that's happening around the world and you're assigned to be his handler. You were told to not trust him but what if under that mask of indifference there's a man just wishing to be loved?

ᯓ★ Word count: 9.7k

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think, just a few hated kisses and flirty comments

ᯓ★ I haven't seen the movie but I've seen the scene on YouTube (like just the 3 minutes ? scene) and really hop you'll like the story

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The air inside the S.H.I.E.L.D. compound feels heavier than usual. It could be the weight of the mission ahead or the fact that the one person who might hold the answers is a literal god—a god of mischief, no less. You’ve been briefed on Loki’s recent exploits, his failed conquest of Earth, and his punishment in Asgard’s dungeons. You know better than to trust him, but you also know that sometimes the devil you know is preferable to the devil you don’t.

Nick Fury has chosen you, of all people, to act as Loki’s handler. You don’t know whether to feel honored or utterly cursed. He claims it’s because of your “unflinching professionalism” and “ability to handle high-pressure situations.” You suspect it’s because most of your colleagues would rather face a firing squad than deal with Loki’s silver tongue.

The sound of the jet door opening draws your attention. You straighten your back and smooth your jacket as two Asgardian guards march down the ramp, their armor gleaming even under the dim hangar lights. Between them walks Loki, his wrists bound in glowing cuffs that hum faintly with suppressed power. He’s wearing his usual dark green attire, though the horned helmet is missing. Without it, his raven-black hair tumbles around his face, framing sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. His piercing blue eyes sweep the room, landing on you.

You can feel his gaze like a physical weight, appraising you. He smirks. Of course, he smirks.

“Agent,” Fury’s voice cuts through your thoughts, startling you slightly. “Take him to interrogation. The guards will brief you on his restraints.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice calm and steady despite the flutter in your chest.

The Asgardian guards exchange a few words with you about Loki’s bindings. They warn you not to let your guard down—ever. You assure them you won’t, though you’re starting to realize that resisting Loki’s words might be a different kind of challenge altogether.

“Shall we?” you say, gesturing for Loki to follow you. He arches an eyebrow but complies, falling into step beside you. The guards trail behind at a respectful distance.

The walk to the interrogation room is uncomfortably silent. You’re hyper-aware of Loki’s presence beside you, his tall frame moving with a predatory grace. He doesn’t look like someone who’s been imprisoned for months; he looks like he owns the place, and you’re just a guest in his domain.

Eventually, he breaks the silence. Of course, he does.

“Tell me, Agent,” he begins, his voice smooth and lilting, “do they often send mortals to babysit gods, or am I a special case?”

You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, determined not to rise to the bait. “I’m here to make sure you don’t cause any trouble. Think of me as your parole officer.”

He chuckles softly, the sound almost pleasant if you didn’t know better. “And if I were to misbehave, what then? Will you scold me? Perhaps send me to my room without supper?”

His words drip with mockery, but there’s an undercurrent of something else—amusement, maybe even intrigue. You keep your expression neutral. “If you misbehave, you’ll find out just how creative S.H.I.E.L.D. can be when it comes to disciplinary measures.”

“Promises, promises,” he murmurs, and you feel a shiver crawl up your spine at the way his eyes linger on you. You remind yourself that this is what Loki does: he gets under people’s skin, twists their emotions until they don’t know which way is up. You won’t let him succeed.

The interrogation room is as stark and clinical as you’d expect. A metal table and two chairs sit under the harsh glow of fluorescent lights. Loki looks around with mild disdain as if the room itself offends his sensibilities.

“This is where you intend to question me?” he asks, his tone dripping with derision. “How... quaint.”

You motion for him to sit. He doesn’t move immediately, instead watching you with that infuriating smirk. Finally, he lowers himself into the chair with the air of someone granting you a great favor.

The guards secure his bindings to the table before stepping back. You nod at them, and they leave, the door clicking shut behind them. Now it’s just you and Loki. You take the seat across from him, pulling out a tablet with your notes.

“We have reason to believe you have information about a recent incident involving extraterrestrial technology,” you say, your voice steady. “S.H.I.E.L.D. recovered several devices that match the energy signature of the Tesseract. We need to know where they came from.”

Loki leans back in his chair, the chains on his wrists clinking softly. “Ah, the Tesseract. Such a fascinating little trinket. Tell me, Agent, do you often meddle in matters beyond your comprehension?”

“This isn’t about me,” you reply coolly. “It’s about you. And what you know.”

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And what do I gain from sharing this knowledge? A lighter sentence? A pat on the head? Somehow, I doubt your superiors are feeling particularly charitable toward me.”

“We’re not asking for charity. We’re asking for cooperation. Help us, and we might consider negotiating with Asgard on your behalf.”

Loki’s laughter fills the room, sharp and cold. “Negotiate with Asgard? Oh, how delightfully naive. Do you honestly believe Odin would entertain such an offer? He’d sooner banish me to the farthest reaches of the cosmos than indulge your mortal whims.”

You suppress a sigh, already feeling the weight of this conversation. But then Loki leans forward, his gaze locking onto yours.

“Still,” he says, his voice softer now, almost teasing, “I might be persuaded to cooperate. After all, it would be such a shame to disappoint you.”

There it is again—that deliberate charm, the way he threads his words with just enough sincerity to make you second-guess yourself. You fold your arms, meeting his gaze head-on.

“You don’t intimidate me, Loki.”

“Oh, I’m not trying to intimidate you,” he says, his lips curling into a wicked smile. “Merely... entertain you. Is that not the proper term for what mortals call ‘flirting’?”

Your stomach flips, but you keep your expression neutral. “If this is your idea of flirting, I’m not impressed.”

“Hmm,” he muses, leaning back again. “Perhaps I’ve spent too long among Asgardians. We have a certain... flair for tradition. Shall I compose you a sonnet instead? Or perhaps challenge another suitor to a duel in your honor?”

Despite yourself, a small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You quickly school your features, but not before Loki notices. His smirk widens.

“There it is,” he says, his tone triumphant. “A crack in the armor. I knew you weren’t entirely immune to my charms.”

You roll your eyes, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Instead, you tap a few notes into your tablet, focusing on the task at hand.

“Let’s get back to the matter at hand,” you say firmly. “Where did the devices come from?”

Loki sighs dramatically, as if the question bores him. “You mortals are so dreadfully predictable. Always demanding answers, yet never willing to pay the price for them.”

“What’s the price?”

He tilts his head, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Your name.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What?”

“Your name, Agent,” he repeats, enunciating the words slowly, as if you’re a particularly dense student. “You see, it’s rather difficult to have a proper conversation when I must refer to you as simply ‘Agent.’ It’s so... impersonal.”

You hesitate. It’s not a particularly sensitive piece of information, but giving him your name feels like handing him a weapon. Still, you decide it’s a small concession if it means making progress.

“Y/N,” you say finally. “My name is Y/N.”

Loki’s smile softens, though it’s no less dangerous. “A beautiful name for a beautiful mortal. Tell me, Y/N, do all agents possess your... charm, or are you truly one of a kind?”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” you reply, though your cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. You hope the harsh lighting hides it.

“Ah, but it’s not flattery if it’s true,” he counters smoothly. “And if I may say so, you wear skepticism rather well. It suits you.”

You shake your head, fighting the urge to laugh. Loki’s flirtations are relentless, but you can’t let them distract you. You refocus on the task, determined to get the answers you need.

But as the interrogation continues, one thing becomes clear: working with Loki is going to be anything but straightforward.

The quinjet ride to Avengers Tower is suffocating in its silence. Loki sits across from you, his long legs stretched out casually as if he owns the entire aircraft. His wrists remain bound, the faint glow of the Asgardian cuffs serving as a reminder of his diminished power. But that doesn’t stop him from exuding arrogance with every calculated shift of his posture.

“Is this where I’m supposed to tremble?” he muses, his voice cutting through the quiet. “The great Avengers Tower, lair of the mighty heroes who so thoroughly bested me.” His smirk deepens. “How quaint.”

You’re seated across from him, tablet in hand, pretending to review your notes. But Loki’s presence is impossible to ignore, his every word curling around you like smoke.

“Maybe don’t insult the people who’ll be watching your every move,” you say, not looking up. “They’re already not thrilled about this arrangement.”

He tilts his head, watching you with something between amusement and curiosity. “And you, Y/N? Are you thrilled?”

“I’m doing my job.”

“Oh, but your job now entails keeping me under control, does it not?” His voice lowers, playful and conspiratorial. “Tell me, how does it feel to hold the leash of a god?”

You glance up, meeting his eyes without flinching. “It feels like babysitting a particularly arrogant toddler.”

His laughter rings out, rich and genuine, surprising you. For a moment, you think you’ve caught him off guard. But then his expression shifts back to its usual smugness, and you realize he’s thoroughly enjoying this verbal sparring.

When the quinjet lands on the rooftop pad of Avengers Tower, you rise, gesturing for Loki to follow. He does, the clinking of his cuffs echoing as he steps out into the open air. The city sprawls out below, glittering in the early evening light, but Loki barely spares it a glance. His focus remains on the tower itself, his smirk growing as he takes in the structure.

“Ah, Stark’s playground,” he says. “I trust the man himself is waiting inside, ready to deliver a string of tiresome quips?”

“Something like that,” you reply, leading him toward the elevator.

As the doors slide open, Loki steps inside with the air of a man entering his throne room. You press the button for the common floor, bracing yourself for the chaos that’s about to unfold.

The doors slide open to reveal the Avengers lounging in the common area. Tony Stark is leaning against the bar, a drink in hand, while Natasha Romanoff sharpens a knife at the table. Steve Rogers stands near the window, arms crossed, his jaw tight. Bruce Banner hovers awkwardly in the background, glancing up as you and Loki step in.

“Look who’s here!” Tony’s voice cuts through the tension, dripping with mock enthusiasm. “Reindeer Games himself. I thought Asgard had a no-returns policy.”

Loki’s lips curl into a predatory smile. “Ah, Stark. Still compensating for something, I see.”

“Alright, let’s not,” you interject quickly, stepping between them. “Loki’s here to help us, not pick a fight.”

“Help us?” Steve’s voice is cold, his gaze sharp as it settles on Loki. “That’s a generous interpretation.”

“It’s true,” you reply, keeping your tone firm. “We’ve encountered tech with energy signatures similar to the Tesseract. Loki’s the only one who might have answers.”

“Because trusting the guy who tried to enslave the planet worked out so well the first time,” Tony quips, raising his glass.

Loki chuckles softly. “It’s heartwarming to see how fondly you remember me.”

Bruce shifts uncomfortably in the corner, his eyes darting between Loki and the others. You don’t miss the tension in his posture, the way his hands twitch as if ready to retreat at a moment’s notice. Loki notices too, and for the first time since his arrival, a flicker of unease crosses his face. It’s subtle, but it’s there.

“I see the beast is still lurking,” Loki says, his voice quieter now, though the edge remains. “Tell me, Dr. Banner, does he hunger for revenge?”

Bruce flinches, his face pale. “I—I’d rather not...”

“Enough,” you cut in sharply, fixing Loki with a glare. “You’re here to cooperate, remember?”

Loki raises his hands as far as the cuffs allow, feigning innocence. “My apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten the good doctor.”

Bruce mutters something under his breath and retreats further into the room. You make a mental note to keep an eye on both him and Loki; their shared tension feels like a powder keg waiting to ignite.

After the initial round of barbs, you manage to get Loki settled in a secure room. It’s more comfortable than the dungeons of Asgard but still far from luxurious—bare walls, a simple bed, and a reinforced door with biometric locks.

“Charming,” Loki says, surveying his new accommodations. “I feel right at home.”

“Good,” you reply, leaning against the doorframe. “Now, let’s get one thing straight. If you step out of line, even once, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He steps closer, just enough to invade your space without crossing a line. His voice drops to a low purr. “Oh, Y/N, I don’t doubt your ability to... discipline me. In fact, I almost look forward to it.”

Your cheeks flush despite yourself, but you hold your ground. “Get some rest. We’ll debrief tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave, you hear his voice again, softer this time. “Y/N?”

You pause, glancing over your shoulder. He’s watching you with an expression you can’t quite place—curiosity, perhaps, or something deeper.

“Why do you trust them with me?” he asks. “Your precious Avengers. Do you truly believe they can keep me in line?”

You meet his gaze, your own unwavering. “I don’t trust them to keep you in line. That’s my job.”

His smirk returns, but there’s something almost genuine beneath it. “Indeed, it is.”

The following day, the team gathers in the briefing room. Loki is seated at the far end of the table, his wrists still bound, though his demeanor remains as smug as ever. A holographic projection displays images of the recovered devices, their design sleek and alien.

“These were found in an abandoned Hydra facility,” you explain, gesturing to the display. “They emit the same energy signature as the Tesseract, but we have no idea what they’re for. That’s where Loki comes in.”

All eyes turn to him. He leans back in his chair, his expression unreadable.

“Convince me,” he says, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Why should I share my insights with you?”

“Because if you don’t,” Tony says, leaning forward, “we’ll lock you in a room with Banner and see how long it takes before the Other Guy wants a rematch.”

Bruce shoots Tony a horrified look, but Loki’s smirk falters for a split second. You notice the way his fingers tighten against the edge of the table.

“Enough,” you say firmly. “We’re not resorting to threats.” You turn to Loki, your voice softening slightly. “You know what’s out there, and you know how dangerous it can be. Help us stop it. Prove you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.”

For a moment, the room is silent. Loki’s gaze locks onto yours, something flickering in his expression—something almost vulnerable. Then, slowly, he inclines his head.

“Very well,” he says, his voice smooth once more. “Let’s see if mortals can keep up.”

As the meeting disperses, Loki lingers behind, waiting until it’s just the two of you.

“Nicely done, Y/N,” he says, his tone almost... complimentary. “You’ve mastered the art of persuasion.”

“I didn’t persuade you,” you reply. “I just told the truth.”

He steps closer, his smirk returning. “And yet, it worked. I wonder, what other truths might you use to sway me?”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “Let’s focus on saving the world first, shall we?”

“As you wish,” he says, bowing his head slightly. But as he steps past you, his voice drops to a whisper. “Though I suspect saving me might be your true challenge.”

You watch him leave, your heart inexplicably pounding. This mission just got a lot more complicated.

The next morning, the Avengers leave in a flurry of purpose and energy, Stark’s voice echoing with instructions as they file out of the tower. It’s a rare sight—every single one of them heading into the field together. You’re left behind, tasked with monitoring Loki and keeping the tower secure.

The quiet that follows their departure is almost unnerving. You sit in the common area, flipping through a report on your tablet, when Loki saunters in. He’s unbound for now—S.H.I.E.L.D.’s restraints only used when necessary. His movements are languid, predatory, as he crosses the room with his usual air of entitlement.

“Left alone with me again, Y/N?” he drawls, leaning against the counter like he owns the place. “Should I be flattered or concerned?”

You don’t look up. “You’re always alone, Loki. I’m just here to make sure you don’t destroy anything or anyone.”

He hums thoughtfully, his sharp gaze raking over you. “I wonder, is that truly why you remain? Or do you find my company... intriguing?”

You glance at him, exasperated. “I find it tolerable. At best.”

“And yet, here you are.” His smirk widens as he steps closer, just enough to test your boundaries. “Tell me, Agent, what do you do when the others aren’t here to play their parts? Surely, you don’t spend every waking moment in this dull little tower watching me.”

“Someone has to.” You set your tablet aside and stand, trying to put some distance between the two of you. “Why don’t you make my job easier and sit quietly for once?”

“But then how would I amuse myself?” He takes another step closer, his voice lowering. “You may not admit it, but I suspect you’d miss my antics if I were to behave.”

You roll your eyes and walk toward the kitchen, feigning indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself, Loki.”

The rest of the day passes uneventfully. You keep yourself busy with monitoring systems and catching up on reports, all while Loki stays suspiciously quiet in his room. It's unusual—he’s normally a restless presence, eager to test limits.

You assume his compliance is a sign of temporary boredom. What you don’t know is that Loki is lying in his sparse room, calculating. He’s been studying the tower’s security systems, searching for a way to slip past its safeguards. Tonight might be the night, he thinks. He’s memorized the patterns, the gaps, and he knows he can vanish before the Avengers even realize he’s gone.

As the hours stretch into evening, you retire to your room, unaware of the god’s intentions. Your space is a rare sanctuary in the tower, a blend of cozy practicality and personal touches that feel distinctly you.

Loki waits until the tower falls completely silent. With a wave of his hand, he disables the monitoring device in his room. It’s a minor spell—one he’s been saving for the right moment. The cuffs are no longer a problem; he’s studied the locking mechanism enough to slip them off without much effort.

He steps into the hallway, his bare feet silent on the cool floor. For the first time in weeks, he feels a surge of freedom, the tantalizing promise of escape. He heads for the exit, his mind already planning the next steps.

But as he passes by your room, a faint sound catches his attention. The door is slightly ajar, spilling a sliver of warm light into the hall. Loki hesitates, his curiosity piqued despite himself.

He peeks inside—and what he sees makes his breath hitch.

You’re standing in front of your bed, freshly out of the shower. Your hair is damp, curling against your shoulders, and you’re wearing nothing but a towel wrapped loosely around your body. The bathroom door behind you is still open, steam curling into the air, and the glow of a bedside lamp bathes your skin in soft light.

Completely unaware of your observer, you move to the dresser, pulling it open to retrieve clothes. As you reach up, the towel slips slightly, revealing more of your shoulder and the curve of your collarbone. Loki swallows hard, a rush of heat pooling in his chest and spreading lower.

He knows he should leave—should slip away unnoticed and continue with his plan. But he doesn’t move.

There’s something captivating about this glimpse of you outside the professional walls you keep so firmly in place. You’re unguarded, human in a way he rarely sees, and it stirs something in him he doesn’t entirely understand.

He takes a step closer, his presence still undetected. The urge to say something, to tease you as he always does, bubbles up, but he suppresses it.

For once, the god of mischief is utterly silent.

You turn suddenly, as if sensing something, and his heart lurches. He retreats quickly, pressing himself against the wall just as your eyes flick toward the door.

“Hello?” you call, your voice uncertain.

Loki curses himself for his foolishness. He shouldn’t have lingered—but now that he’s seen this side of you, his desire to leave the tower has shifted. He watches as you step closer to the door, your expression wary.

He slips away, retreating to his room without a sound. Once inside, he leans against the wall, his mind racing.

The thought of escape still lingers in the back of his mind, but it no longer feels urgent. Not tonight.

Not when he knows you’re here, in the same space, entirely unaware of the effect you’ve had on him.

You find Loki in the common area, lounging on the couch as if nothing happened. His cuffs are back in place, though you notice a faint smugness in his expression, as if he knows something you don’t.

“Good morning,” he says smoothly, his tone laced with amusement.

You narrow your eyes at him. “You seem chipper today.”

“Perhaps I’ve found reason to be,” he replies, his gaze flickering over you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You frown, brushing off the unease that his words stir. “Try not to enjoy yourself too much. You’re still under watch.”

“Of course,” he says with a slight bow of his head. “But tell me, Y/N, how did you sleep? Peacefully, I hope.”

There’s something about the way he says it—soft, teasing, with just a hint of mischief—that makes you pause.

You brush past him, refusing to let him get under your skin. But as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken thoughts.

And in his room later, Loki sits at the edge of his bed, the memory of you from the night before seared into his mind.

For now, his escape can wait.

The tension in the air was thick as the Avengers gathered in the briefing room, the holographic screen showing images of the upcoming gala. Tony Stark stood at the head of the table, his hands resting on the surface, eyes narrowed as he analyzed the data. Steve Rogers was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his jaw set, while Natasha Romanoff sat with a focused expression, her fingers tapping lightly on the table. Bruce Banner, still uneasy around Loki, looked at the screen, then at his colleagues, silently awaiting the inevitable question.

"Alright," Tony began, his voice cutting through the thick silence. "We've got a masked gala happening in three days. High-profile event. The criminals we're tracking are expected to make a deal there, and it's our best shot at catching them."

"But they’ll be surrounded by a lot of people," Natasha said, folding her arms. "And these are highly dangerous individuals—some with connections to Hydra. We can’t risk a full-on assault."

"I agree," Steve added, his tone serious. "If we act too soon, we’ll spook them. We need to get inside, gather intel, and only move in when we have enough to bring them down safely."

"The problem," Tony continued, tapping a button on the table to bring up a closer view of the suspects, "is that they’re too well-protected. The best way in is through someone they don’t expect. Someone like... Loki."

The room went quiet. Everyone exchanged glances, the air thick with unease. Even though Loki had been cooperating—somewhat—the trust wasn’t there. Not after what he’d done. Not after the chaos he’d tried to bring to Earth. And still, his knowledge of these kinds of circles, his ability to navigate a room and blend in with the highest of society—well, it was a skill set they couldn’t afford to ignore.

“I know what you’re all thinking,” Tony continued. “But he’s the only one who can do this. We send him in as a guest. He can be charming—when he wants to be—and this kind of event is perfect for him. He won’t be recognized as a threat. In fact, they’ll probably be more inclined to trust him because of his past affiliations.”

“But we can’t just let him roam free,” Steve said, his distrust of the god evident. “There’s still the matter of him being dangerous. Even if he’s pretending to play nice, he’s unpredictable.”

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod. “Which is why we’ll send Y/N in with him. As his escort.”

The room went silent again, this time for a different reason. Every eye turned to you, and for a brief moment, you felt the weight of their gazes. It wasn’t exactly a choice you’d been expecting. You had done plenty of fieldwork, but partnering with Loki? That was a new level of uncomfortable.

“Y/N’s been on the ground for this mission longer than any of us,” Tony continued, sensing the hesitation. “She knows the people, she knows how to blend in, and most importantly, she knows Loki better than any of us. She can keep him in check. Plus, we need someone who can keep him focused when things get... tense.”

You couldn’t help but shoot Tony a sharp look. “You’re assuming I’ll be able to control him. I’m not sure that’s realistic.”

“I’m confident you can,” Tony said with a shrug, though his tone was far from comforting. “Besides, we’ll be monitoring you both from the moment you step inside. We’ll be feeding you intel, and we’ve got backup in case things go sideways. But we can’t afford to miss this opportunity.”

You let out a long breath. The Avengers were right in one respect—this gala would be the criminals’ first big move, and it was the perfect chance to catch them red-handed. The only problem was the wild card in all of this—Loki.

“You do realize, he’s going to hate this, right?” you said, glancing toward the hallway where Loki’s room was. “He won’t go along with it without making some... demands.”

“I’m aware,” Tony said with a smirk. “But that’s where you come in. You’re going to keep him in line, whether he likes it or not.”

The idea of working so closely with Loki was disconcerting, to say the least. You weren’t sure if you were more concerned about his volatile personality or the way he looked at you—like he could read you with a single glance. Either way, being his partner at a high-stakes event was sure to turn this mission into something far more complicated than it already was.

“You’ll need to get him suited up,” Tony added. “Dress him the part. He’s got the charm, but he’s going to need the right... accessories to sell it. A tux, maybe something dark and mysterious. And, of course, a story. We’re going with the ‘rich but elusive businessman’ angle.”

You nodded reluctantly. “I’ll make sure he’s... presentable. But don’t expect him to be on his best behavior just because he’s wearing a suit.”

“I’m counting on you to make sure he stays in character, Y/N,” Tony said, locking eyes with you. “We need him to play nice for just a few hours. If he steps out of line, you have full clearance to use whatever means necessary to rein him in.”

Steve cleared his throat, stepping forward. “I don’t like putting you in this position, Y/N. But this is the only chance we’ve got to take down these criminals. You know the risks, and we’re counting on you to make sure Loki doesn’t derail everything.”

“I get it,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. “I’ll keep him focused. But if he decides to do something... foolish, don’t expect me to clean up after him.”

“That’s the spirit,” Tony said with a grin. “But seriously, we’re counting on you both. The gala is our best chance to catch them. You’ll be getting intel from us in real time, so we’ll know exactly when to move in.”

You nodded again, feeling the weight of responsibility settle on your shoulders. This wasn’t just about stopping criminals—it was about making sure Loki didn’t ruin everything, too. And while you could handle the job, you knew it wouldn’t be easy, especially with a god of mischief at your side.

As you walked to Loki’s room to prepare him for the mission, your mind raced. You were about to go undercover with someone who had a knack for turning every situation into a game. It was going to be a challenge, no doubt about it. But if it meant catching the criminals and keeping the tower—and your team—safe, you were ready to do whatever it took.

You reached his door and knocked twice, preparing yourself for the inevitable confrontation. It was time to bring him into the fold, even if that meant wrestling him into a tux and a plan.

Inside, Loki’s voice echoed through the door. “Come in, Y/N. I trust this isn’t a social call?”

You opened the door, steeling yourself. The mission was about to begin, and there was no turning back.

The grandeur of the gala hits you the moment you step into the ballroom. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the crowd, illuminating the sea of elegant masks and opulent gowns. A live band plays a sultry melody, the kind that fills the air with the promise of secrets. Beside you, Loki cuts an imposing figure, his sharp suit tailored to perfection and his black mask veiling just enough of his face to make him look both alluring and dangerous.

You’re both walking a tightrope here, pretending to be something you’re not while still tethered to the truth. The mission is clear: mingle, gather intel on the criminals, and identify their deal. But the undercurrent of your arrangement hums just beneath the surface, threatening to pull you under with every step.

“They certainly went all out,” Loki muses, his voice smooth as silk. He offers his arm, and though you hesitate for a fraction of a second, you take it. “Is this where I play the doting husband?”

“Try not to overdo it,” you reply, keeping your voice low. “We’re supposed to blend in, not steal the spotlight.”

He tilts his head toward you, his lips curling into a smirk. “But stealing the spotlight is what I do best, darling.”

You give him a warning look, though your heart skips a beat at the way the endearment rolls off his tongue. “Save the theatrics for later. Right now, we need to find our targets.”

He hums in agreement, though the sharp gleam in his eyes suggests he’s more focused on you than the mission. His hand rests lightly over yours as he leads you through the crowd, weaving seamlessly between masked attendees. He’s good at this, you realize, his charm a perfect weapon in this environment.

“Smile,” he murmurs close to your ear, his breath ghosting against your skin. “You look far too serious for someone at a gala.”

You force a small smile, though the proximity of him sends heat rushing to your face. “I’d be more relaxed if I wasn’t babysitting a god with a penchant for chaos.”

“And I’d be more entertained if my wife weren’t so suspicious of me,” he teases, his voice dropping just enough to make the words feel intimate.

Before you can retort, Loki’s posture shifts ever so slightly. He leans closer, pretending to adjust your mask, and murmurs, “Our targets are at three o’clock. The tall one with the crimson gown. She’s speaking to a man with a cane.”

You glance subtly in that direction and nod. “Let’s move closer.”

The two of you drift toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning yourselves within earshot of the targets. Loki keeps his hand on yours, the intimate gesture lending an air of authenticity to your cover. You focus on the conversation happening nearby, picking up snippets of information about shipment schedules and encrypted codes.

But then, the music changes.

A familiar tune fills the room—sultry, electric, and unmistakably intense. It’s Bust Your Windows by Jazmine Sullivan, reimagined by the live band with a pulsing tango rhythm.

Before you can react, Loki takes your hand and spins you toward the dance floor.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, trying to pull back.

“Keeping up appearances,” he says smoothly, his mask glinting in the light. “We’re a married couple, after all. And what better way to celebrate our love than a dance?”

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, but you allow him to lead you onto the floor.

The second your feet touch the polished wood, his hand finds the small of your back, pulling you closer than you expect. His other hand captures yours, holding it just above shoulder height as he begins to move. The tango’s rhythm demands sharp, deliberate steps, and Loki executes them flawlessly, guiding you as if he’s done this a thousand times before.

“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you say, breathless as he spins you.

“I’m full of surprises,” he replies, his voice low and magnetic.

The music swells, the band leaning into the dramatic crescendos, and you feel the tension between you and Loki rise to match it. Every step, every twist of your body against his, feels charged. His hand lingers just a moment too long when it brushes your hip, his fingers grazing the bare skin between your dress and his touch.

“You’re supposed to be watching the targets,” you remind him, though your voice comes out shakier than you’d like.

“Ah, but how could I focus on them when my wife is such a vision?” His tone is playful, but there’s something darker, more serious, behind his words.

As he dips you, your breath catches. The movement is effortless, but the way his eyes bore into yours makes you forget, for a moment, that this is just an act.

The song’s climax hits, and Loki pulls you even closer, his cheek brushing yours as he whispers, “Tell me, darling. Are you pretending to enjoy this as much as I am?”

Your heart pounds, though you refuse to let him see how much he’s affecting you. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you haven’t pushed me away,” he counters, spinning you once more before the final beats of the song.

The last note hangs in the air as Loki holds you in a dramatic pose, his arm wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. The applause from the crowd barely registers as you realize your breathing has quickened, your skin warm where his hand rests.

He smirks, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “Shall we call this a victory, wife?”

You snap back to reality, pulling away just enough to compose yourself. “Don’t get used to it. We still have a mission.”

“Of course,” he says, though the glint in his eyes suggests he’s far more interested in the game he’s playing with you than the criminals in the room.

As the crowd disperses from the dance floor, you glance toward your targets, who seem to have moved toward a private balcony.

“Come on,” you say, tugging at his arm.

Loki follows, but not before leaning close and murmuring, “I’ll be thinking about that dance for a very long time.”

You don’t dignify him with a response, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. The mission isn’t over yet, and you can only hope Loki’s antics won’t make things even more complicated.

You and Loki follow the targets carefully, keeping a measured distance as they make their way toward a secluded hallway leading to the gala’s private suites. The corridor is dimly lit, lined with ornate wallpaper and gilded sconces. The murmur of the crowd fades, leaving only the faint echo of footsteps as you press closer to the wall, your pulse quickening with the thrill of being so near to your goal.

“They’re heading to the west wing,” Loki whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “It seems our charming couple prefers privacy for their dealings.”

You nod, your heart pounding as you creep along the edge of the hall, trying to stay out of sight. The couple stops just ahead, speaking in hushed tones. Loki steps closer behind you, his presence almost overwhelming in the enclosed space.

“Keep your focus,” you hiss, glancing over your shoulder at him.

“Oh, I am focused,” he replies, his tone playful but quiet. “Though I can’t help but wonder how much longer we can linger without being noticed.”

It’s a valid concern. The targets seem engrossed in their conversation, but the corridor is too exposed. You glance around, searching for a place to retreat or a better angle to listen in, but before you can decide, one of the criminals glances back sharply, their eyes scanning the hallway.

“They’re looking this way,” Loki mutters, his voice low and urgent.

Panic shoots through you. There’s no time to retreat, no place to hide. Your mind races, and then—on pure instinct—you grab Loki by the lapels of his suit and pull him toward you.

Before he can protest, your lips press against his, your back hitting the wall as you lean into him. His body stiffens for a split second, but then he catches on. His hands come to rest on your waist, fingers curling slightly as he leans into the kiss, matching your urgency with surprising ease.

Your heart hammers in your chest, not just from the danger but from the sudden, electric sensation of Loki’s mouth on yours. His lips are soft yet commanding, his touch both calculated and possessive as he shifts his body to shield you further from view.

“What in the Nine Realms are you doing?” he whispers against your lips, his tone more intrigued than accusatory.

“Keeping us alive,” you murmur back, your voice barely audible as the footsteps approach.

The targets pass by slowly, their footsteps deliberate. You can feel their gaze sweep over you, but you don’t dare look. Instead, you pour every ounce of focus into the act, your fingers curling into the fabric of Loki’s jacket as you deepen the kiss just enough to sell it.

Loki seems to relish the role, tilting his head to deepen the kiss further. His thumb brushes against your waist, sending a shiver through you that has nothing to do with the cold.

A voice interrupts the moment, sharp and disapproving. “This is hardly the place for such displays.”

You part from Loki abruptly, your face hot as you turn to face the source of the scolding. One of the gala’s staff members, an older man in a crisp uniform, stands a few feet away, his expression one of polite disapproval.

“My apologies,” you say quickly, straightening your mask and trying to appear appropriately chastised. “We got… carried away.”

Loki, ever the performer, offers a sheepish smile that’s somehow more seductive than apologetic. “Forgive us. My wife and I have a difficult time restraining our passions.”

The staff member huffs, clearly unimpressed. “There are designated areas for such… activities. Keep it off the main floor.”

“Of course,” Loki replies smoothly, his hand still resting at the small of your back. “We’ll be more discreet.”

The staff member mutters something under his breath before walking away, and you exhale a shaky breath, your heart still racing. The targets are gone, having paid you no more than a passing glance. The plan worked.

You glance up at Loki, whose expression is unreadable behind his mask. “That was quick thinking,” he says finally, though there’s a teasing edge to his voice. “I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“It was survival,” you retort, stepping out of his hold and straightening your dress. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

He smirks, adjusting his own mask with an air of casual arrogance. “Too late for that, darling. I’m afraid you’ve given me quite a lot to think about.”

You glare at him, though the heat in your cheeks betrays you. “Focus, Loki. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Ah, but you see,” he says, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr, “now I’m more motivated than ever to see this mission through. And who knows? Perhaps we’ll need to use that particular tactic again.”

You roll your eyes, brushing past him as you head back toward the main event. But as much as you want to dismiss his words, the lingering warmth of his kiss—and the way your body seemed to respond to him—stays with you, making it harder to focus than you’d like.

Loki follows close behind, his footsteps quiet but his presence impossible to ignore. And though neither of you speaks it aloud, there’s an unspoken awareness between you now—an understanding that something has shifted. Whether that’s a good thing or a dangerous one, only time will tell.

The ride back to the Avengers Tower is quieter than you expect, though tension hangs in the air, thick and unyielding. The mission was a success; you and Loki gathered enough intel to pinpoint the criminals’ next move and their precise location. As Tony pilots the jet, he and Natasha pore over the information, already strategizing for the intervention. Steve listens intently, his expression serious, while Bruce sits stiffly in his seat, keeping his distance from Loki, though the god seems entirely unfazed.

You sit across from Loki, your mask now discarded, but the memory of the gala’s events lingers. Every stolen glance, every near-discovery, and every moment you spent pressed against him still simmers in the back of your mind. You can feel his eyes on you, and though you refuse to look at him, your body betrays you, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Quite the evening,” Loki says suddenly, his voice smooth and low. His tone carries the same playful edge it always does, but there’s something else lurking beneath it—something darker, hungrier.

“Successful, at least,” you reply, keeping your voice even as you glance at him. “We accomplished what we came to do.”

“Indeed,” he says, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “Though I dare say the evening held more… unexpected delights than anticipated.”

You narrow your eyes at him, but before you can respond, Steve interrupts.

“Focus, you two,” he says sharply. “We’ve got work to do.”

Loki’s smirk widens, but he falls silent, leaning back in his seat with a satisfied air. You cross your arms, willing yourself to ignore him, though the memory of his kiss lingers, stubborn and persistent.

When you return to the Tower, the debriefing is quick and efficient. Tony projects the data you and Loki retrieved, detailing the location of the deal and the criminals’ schedule. The team agrees to strike at dawn, using the element of surprise to their advantage. As plans take shape, you feel a flicker of relief. The night’s tension will soon give way to action, and with any luck, this mission will end successfully.

Once the meeting adjourns, you catch Loki’s eye. “Come on,” you say, gesturing for him to follow. “Let’s get you back to your room.”

“As you wish,” he replies, rising gracefully from his seat.

The walk to his quarters is quiet at first. The Tower feels oddly still in the late hours, the hallways dimly lit. You lead the way, your mind spinning as you try to push away the lingering heat of the gala—the dance, the kiss, the way his hands felt on you. Loki walks beside you, his presence magnetic as ever, his gaze lingering on you even when you refuse to meet it.

When you reach his door, you stop, turning to face him. “Goodnight, Loki,” you say, your voice firm but polite.

But before you can step away, he moves closer.

“You’ve been avoiding my eyes all evening,” he says, his voice a low, velvety murmur. “Why is that, darling? Did I do something to unnerve you?”

“No,” you reply quickly, though the catch in your voice betrays you. “I’ve been focused on the mission, that’s all.”

“Liar,” he says softly, his smirk returning. “You’ve been thinking about it. About us. About the way I touched you, held you, kissed you.”

His words send a rush of heat through you, and you take a step back, your back hitting the wall. He follows, closing the distance until he’s mere inches away, his tall frame towering over you.

“Admit it,” he continues, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You felt it, too—the spark, the fire. I see it in your eyes, Y/N. You want me just as much as I want you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Because he’s right. No matter how much you’ve tried to deny it, the truth is undeniable now, burning in every corner of your being.

His hand rises to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. “Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

But you don’t.

Instead, you lean into his touch, your resolve crumbling as the need overtakes you. Loki’s eyes darken, his breath hitching as he realizes your answer.

With a groan, he closes the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that’s nothing like the one at the gala. This kiss is raw, urgent, and unrestrained, a culmination of every unspoken word and every stolen glance. His hands find your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips move against yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

And to his surprise—and yours—you kiss him back with just as much passion. Your fingers thread through his dark hair, pulling him closer as you lose yourself in the moment. The world falls away, leaving only the heat of his touch and the hunger in his kiss.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathing hard, your foreheads resting together. Loki’s hands remain on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as if he’s afraid you might pull away.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse but tender.

You don’t let him finish. Instead, you press your lips to his again, silencing any words with a kiss that speaks volumes. For now, words don’t matter. All that matters is this—this moment, this connection, this fire that neither of you can deny anymore.

And for the first time, neither of you tries to.

The Tower feels different now, quieter in the wake of the mission’s success. The criminals have been apprehended, their operation dismantled, and SHIELD has taken over for the cleanup. But despite the victory, a strange tension lingers, heavy and unspoken. Fury and Thor are locked in discussions about Loki’s fate, and you and Loki are left waiting in his room, suspended in uncertainty.

The silence between you is unlike any other you’ve shared before. It’s not sharp with banter or charged with playful tension; it’s softer, quieter, tinged with something neither of you is willing to name.

You sit on the edge of the small couch by the window, gazing out at the city lights glittering against the dark sky. Loki leans against the desk, his long fingers idly toying with the edge of a book. For once, he’s still—not prowling or pacing, not filling the room with his restless energy.

“They’re taking their time,” you murmur, your voice cutting through the silence.

“They always do,” Loki replies, though his tone lacks its usual sarcasm.

You glance at him, studying his profile. He looks calm, almost serene, but you’ve spent enough time with him to see through the mask. The faint furrow in his brow, the tension in his jaw, the way his hands grip the book just a little too tightly—they all betray him.

“They’ll make the right decision,” you say softly, more to yourself than to him.

He scoffs lightly but doesn’t look at you. “The right decision,” he repeats, the words laced with bitterness. “That depends entirely on who is defining it.”

You sigh, standing and moving closer to him. “Loki, you helped. You could’ve run at any point during this mission, but you didn’t. That has to count for something.”

His lips twist into a faint smirk, though there’s no humor in it. “And do you think that will sway Fury or my brother? Do you think they’ll forget what I’ve done? The chaos, the destruction?”

“They don’t have to forget,” you say, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “But they can see that you’re not the same person who attacked New York. You’ve changed, Loki.”

His gaze finally lifts to meet yours, and for a moment, something raw flashes in his eyes—something vulnerable and uncertain. “Have I?”

You place your hand over his, stilling his restless movements. “Yes. You have. I see it. And if they can’t, then that’s their failure, not yours.”

The room falls into silence again, but this time, it feels different. Loki’s hand shifts beneath yours, his fingers curling around yours as he exhales slowly.

“What do you think they’ll decide?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “But whatever happens, we’ll face it. Together.”

His eyes search yours, and for a moment, the mask falls away entirely. You see the man beneath—the uncertainty, the fear, the hope he doesn’t dare acknowledge.

“You say that as if you’ll still be by my side when this is over,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

You don’t hesitate. “I will be.”

His hand tightens on yours, his eyes holding yours as if trying to memorize every detail. Then, without warning, he pulls you closer, his other hand rising to cradle your face.

“If this is to be the last time we’re alone,” he says, his voice trembling slightly, “then let it be a moment worth remembering.”

Your heart aches at the words, at the vulnerability he’s showing. But you don’t argue. Instead, you lean into him, closing the gap between you.

The kiss is different this time. It’s not urgent or hungry but slow and lingering, filled with a quiet desperation. His lips move against yours as if savoring every second, every touch, every taste. His hands are gentle, one cradling your cheek while the other rests on your waist, anchoring you to him.

You lose yourself in him, in the way he holds you like you’re something fragile and precious, in the way his touch feels like both a promise and a farewell.

When you finally part, your foreheads rest together, and the world outside feels impossibly far away.

“No matter what they decide,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly, “you’re not alone. You never will be.”

For a long moment, Loki doesn’t speak. Then he nods, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek as he closes his eyes.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, the words so quiet you almost miss them.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped in each other’s arms, letting the world outside fade away. For now, there’s no SHIELD, no judgment, no uncertain future. There’s only this—this moment, this connection, this fragile yet unbreakable bond.

And for now, that’s enough.

The knock at the door comes like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile stillness you and Loki have wrapped yourselves in. You tense in his arms, and his grip on you tightens briefly before he lets you go, stepping back as though putting distance between you is the only way to shield himself from what’s coming.

You take a deep breath and move to answer the door, Loki trailing behind you. When you open it, you’re greeted by the imposing figures of Nick Fury and Thor. Fury’s face is unreadable, his single eye piercing as it moves between you and Loki. Thor’s expression is graver than you’ve ever seen it, a heaviness in his gaze that sends a chill down your spine.

“May we come in?” Fury asks, his voice clipped.

You nod, stepping aside to let them enter. Loki lingers near the window, his posture deceptively casual as he leans against the wall. But you can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl faintly against his sides.

Fury and Thor take positions near the center of the room, both of them standing tall and commanding. Thor’s gaze lingers on Loki, a mix of concern and judgment flashing across his face.

“We’ve reached a decision,” Fury begins, his tone as sharp as ever. “It wasn’t an easy one, considering everything Loki has done in the past and the risks he poses in the future.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as you glance at Loki. He’s staring at Fury now, his expression a careful mask of indifference.

“Loki Laufeyson,” Thor says, his deep voice cutting through the tension. “Your actions during this mission have proven that you are capable of aiding Midgard without causing harm. However, they do not erase the destruction you have wrought.”

Loki raises an eyebrow, his lips curling into a faint smirk. “How magnanimous of you, brother. Do get to the point.”

Thor’s jaw tightens, but he presses on. “You will not be returned to Asgard’s dungeons. Instead, you will remain here, under the supervision of SHIELD and the Avengers. Your movements will be restricted, and any deviation from the terms of your parole will result in severe consequences.”

Fury nods. “Think of it as probation. You step out of line, you’re done. No exceptions.”

You exhale a shaky breath, relief flooding through you despite the harshness of their words. Loki isn’t going back to Asgard’s prison. He isn’t being taken away.

Loki, however, seems less than impressed. “So, I am to be your prisoner still, but with a longer leash?”

“Consider it an opportunity,” Thor says, his tone softening slightly. “To prove that you are more than your past mistakes.”

Loki’s smirk fades, and for a moment, something unreadable flashes in his eyes. He looks away, his gaze drifting to the window.

“And what role do I play in this… probation?” he asks, his voice quieter now.

“You’ll assist the Avengers as needed,” Fury says bluntly. “Your skills are… useful, when not being used to destroy things.”

“Charming,” Loki mutters.

Fury ignores the comment, turning his attention to you. “As for you, Y/N, you’ll remain his primary handler. You’ve proven capable of keeping him in check, and frankly, you’re the only one he seems remotely willing to listen to.”

The weight of the responsibility settles over you, but you nod firmly. “Understood.”

Thor steps forward then, his gaze fixed on Loki. “Do not squander this chance, brother. It may be the only one you are given.”

Loki meets his gaze, his expression unreadable. “I’ll endeavor not to disappoint you, Thor.”

The words are polite, but there’s a sharpness to them, a bitterness that hasn’t faded. Thor watches him for a moment longer before nodding and turning to leave. Fury follows, but not before giving you a pointed look.

“Keep him in line,” he says, and then he’s gone, the door closing behind him.

The room falls into silence again, heavier now than before. You turn to Loki, who remains by the window, his back to you.

“Well,” he says finally, his voice tinged with sarcasm. “It seems I’m to be your ward indefinitely. I hope you’re prepared for the burden.”

You take a step closer, your heart aching at the undercurrent of vulnerability in his tone. “Loki… this is a second chance. They didn’t have to give you that.”

He turns to face you, his expression guarded. “A second chance to serve as their pet sorcerer, you mean. To be tolerated, not trusted.”

“It’s more than that,” you insist, moving closer still. “It’s a chance to prove them wrong. To show them who you really are.”

“And who is that, Y/N?” he asks, his voice dropping. “Who do you think I really am?”

You hesitate, your throat tightening as you search for the right words. “I think you’re someone who’s been hurt, someone who’s made mistakes, but someone who’s still capable of doing good. Of being… more.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, his expression softening ever so slightly. Then, to your surprise, he chuckles—a quiet, almost bitter sound.

“You are a strange woman, Y/N,” he says, shaking his head. “But perhaps that’s what I need.”

You smile faintly, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “You’ll never have to face this alone, Loki. Not as long as I’m here.”

He gazes at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours. Then, slowly, he lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin.

“You’re maddening, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice low and tender.

“Then we’re even,” you reply, your lips quirking into a faint smile.

For the first time that night, his smirk softens into something more genuine. And as he leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, the weight of the world outside fades, leaving only the two of you in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

[starberry-cupcake]

back by popular (?) demand, I am now starting chapter 28 of gideon the ninth and I guess I'm sharing updates to the general public now ( @lady-harrowhark this is your responsibility). I think I'm gonna put them under this tag because I am being told I will want to look back on them later (sounds threatening ngl).

previously, in gideon the ninth:

isaac was ended by some junji ito shit

jannemary was ended by a stealthy junji ito shit

very pointed messages were written for them

which is too dramatic to be a random monster killing, if you ask me

gideon took a 15 minute nap and was startled awake in hell

gideon most definitely did not look much at the room before she took said nap, nor did she remember the paper she's still carrying around

I'm losing my mind at the paper

I'm like watching another d&d player choose to never look at something the dm gave them

were we are now:

gideon is back, now with More Trauma

harrow has the compassion of a feral kitten

this is a bad combination for me, personally, in particular, because this means gideon is going to look for comfort in my mortal enemy dulcinea

she gives her a talk that is trying to distract me from the fact that I don't trust her, but I will never trust her

she was like "it'd be better to die here than to be living longer and trapped" and I was like "wanna let me help you with that?"

palamedes has also been carrying a dulcinea boner, which also makes things difficult for me

because if my mortal enemy ends up being bad and dangerous, and palamedes is in danger, it would force camilla to be in danger, and we don't want, under any circumstances, to put camilla in danger

mayonnaise uncle has been gossiping in the eighth and ortus's mom (where I'm from, 'orto' means 'ass', so I will never forget his name) spilled the beans on the ninth

he offers gideon literal tea with a side of the metaphorical tea

here's where I went "boy, I sure hope harrow doesn't push gideon away and gives her a reason to turn to these guys"

harrow proceeds to do just that

with clockwork precision

I cannot emphasize enough how meticulously she did this

if pushing people away was an olympic sport, and if that was the way to judge this competition, this book would be 10 pages long because harrow has mastered the craft

you could hear gideon's psyche becoming dust

needless to say, we're having tea with the eighth soon, everyone bring your scones and poison

which, you know, fine, at least gideon will be told information

and btw, protesilaus is still live reacting from an unknown location

idk what regina george twin, yandere simulator twin and chad the third are doing but, at this point, I don't know what anyone is doing, really

except for dulcinea, I JUST KNOW she's up to no good

and the second is probably still dealing with the fact that they lost to Camilla The Everything

[mx-your-name]

His Goddess - 2

Possessive!Adam x Goddess!Reader

Warning: Yandere theme, Possessive Adam, minimum Obsessed Adam, mention of willing to kill angels and sinners, Adam trying to fight a literal GOD, slight mention of sized and mommy kink, a weird ass dead Angel willing to do anything for you that goes by the name of fucking ADAM!

-Like any normal day you were awake doing business whether it was watching over the mortal world, heaven, or hell

-Just then you had to get called into a meeting making you even more annoyed while you were trying to maintain all three places which were all chaotic.. Lute was a mess after Adam’s death with Sera and Emily trying to cheer her up or something, hell was hell, and Earth was just a mix of heaven and hell that was 10x worse than both

-And to your no amusement only to find out that the meeting had lasted for three hours!

-Not only did you miss out on normal day activities you do but Adam was also panicked on where you were at

-He had woken up and went to the normal spot to find you NOT there so he thought you were in your library or something? Nope! Garden? Not there either! He had looked everywhere only to find no one, not his goddess in sight

-Adam knew he shouldn’t worry since you were not only a HOT GODDESS but one that is more powerful than the other four

-Including your hot and sexiness

- *s i g h s in d i s a p p o i n t m e n t*

-Image him calling you tall milf or Mommy cause how you always towered over him.. yeah weird motherfucker but we still love him

-You see how cocky he is about himself just wait until he tells you all the cool stuff that he had done for you to fall more in love with him but fails miserably, you already saw everything he had done from the start of time itself

-Size kink, you can’t tell me otherwise! Whether it’s you or him that’s taller! He’ll still have a size kink no matter what!

-Still calls you a bitch but instead he says, “milf bitch,” or “tall bitch,” or “hot bitch,” or even “mommy bitch,” He’s still coming up with more nicknames for you till this day, yeah weird motherfucker am I right?

-I regret doing this but I love him sfm…

-Has told you multiple times that you belonged to him and him alone which is like 5 or 6 times PER DAY sadly..

-Of course he trusts that you’d never leave him for someone else like who would? He’s Adam! The first man! The dickmaster! He just doesn’t trust that goody tooshoo Cupid guy that talks nonstop about love this and love that

-Yeah.. he definitely had to tell himself that he was the only one made for you and you alone. He fucking CACKLED for the past 5 10 minutes about that

-Meanwhile you were super bored in the meeting which was talking about what to do with certain IMP’s in hell that were going back up to the human world messing with the people and killing them after getting more calls from clients and shit about that

-You were really wishing you brought Adam in here to make it entertaining and have some views from a person that knew sinners personally that just wanted to kill them

-Now when you were looking through the eyes you have everywhere and saw Adam laughing to himself then leaving to grab a drink and sip on it, maybe it was in fact the best idea to not have him come to this Gods meeting

“I say we just go down there and handle them ourselves! Sooner or later they are gonna need to learn to not FUCK with the human world and just stay in their damn place! Maybe we should even give Stolas a visit about him letting those IMP’s use his book that was passed on through his family from us!” Demeter shouted slamming her fist on the table now standing up from her chair knocking it over making it tumble onto the ground. The vines alongside the wall as decoration grew bigger fast from her anger that was swelling up inside of her.

“Not only that but they are messing with nature! The nature that I took my time growing! The nature that I took my time out of my schedule to plant in the place that was needed and thought out only from it all gets mostly destroyed by.. fucking IMP’s!” Her shouting was heard throughout the entire room and through the giant down for all of your 40 foot tall frames. The vines growing faster and faster the more her anger boiled, Eros shirking down a bit muttering how this didn’t feel like a lovely conversation anymore.

Themis sat there, her hands intertwined neatly on the table, staring at Demeter through her blindfold over her eyes with a straight face. Ares felt the anger that was all so familiar that he knew during the wars he went through time and time again for humans only that was never really appreciated or respected anymore nowadays. You knew every emotion that everyone was feeling, you sat at your seat in between both sides. Resting your face in the palm of your hand that stood up on the arm of your chair wanting this meeting to be over since you still had stuff that you needed to get down.

For example like making sure that Adam hadn’t gone mad when finding that you were missing and leaving your place without him. It was always important to him that when you left you had to take him with you since he was always feeling like you were just cheating on him with that Cupid guy which Adam refers to him as. Yeah you had to tell him just because you're leaving without him doesn’t mean you're doing any of that with Eros after all he wasn’t anything more. That but also because Eros already basically had two wives since he is Cupid.

You also had to remind Adam that you two weren’t dating, which Adam acted so dramatic about crying that you didn’t love him anymore. He had crocodile tears going down his face, sighing as you lifted him up in your hands telling him to stop crying. When he thought you weren’t looking he had a smirk on his face knowing that he won the conversation. He “always” did, instead you only let him since Eros told you over and over that he could feel Adam’s love for you raiding off of him, but told you privately that the love Adam had for you was more toxic and possessive but still said it was so cute to see the love between you two!

“Demeter, please calm down. We’ll get this whole situation sorted out in no time and you know revealing ourselves to anyone besides to the certain people that know about us would mess up everything and would cause chaos to arise. We’ll all come up with a plan on what to do, maybe we could speak to Stolas about the matter after all he knows of our existence because of his family.” You told Demeter, breaking through the tension between everyone once snapping out of your thoughts about the matter you're gonna have to deal with when getting back to your place.

“I sincerely apologize, [Name]. I’m just a bit mad for what those IMP’s are doing to my amazing plants down on the planet Earth.” She explained, her vines shrinking back down with a swipe of her hand. Her once chair that laid on the ground was now sat back up thanks to her plants that sprouted from the bottom of her feet. Demeter sat back down in her seat with a swift motion, Eros now sitting back up in his pink chair that had hearts on it that was designed that was to his liking.

-After that whole thing the meeting went completely normal figuring out ideas and coming up with a way to get what Demeter wanted without breaking any of the rules

-Never have you been so thankful in your life when the meeting finally ended letting all five of you go back to what you were doing before the three hour long God and Goddess gathering

-Snapping your fingers you were easily back at your place, Adam who was watching television with a slurpee in hand sipping on it

-Your once 40 foot tall height shrunk down to ten feet that was still taller than Adam since you didn’t feel comfortable being short cause it didn’t fit you, that’s what you’d always say

-Once you sat down beside him on the couch expect him to immediately cling onto you like you were a jungle gym or something

-For a warning he ain’t ever gonna let go until he feels that he can but will still cling to your side wherever your heart leads you to

-Threatening anyone that he deems competition that’ll try and fight for your love

-Yes he HAS in fact threatened the other gods even the goddesses about staying away from you his lover

-Oh my YOU! He almost died a second time thanks to Ares but it was stopped by you. Adam knew that you’d protect him but didn’t show it telling you that he could’ve handled it on his own

-no… just no-

-Adam so wished Lute was here so he could show you off to her and say he had hit the jackpot on finding the one that was always meant to be his lover from the start

-He does miss Lute most of the time feeling a bit lonely without his best friend by his side but at least you're here with him! Not like you're ever gonna leave. He wasn’t able to die again with him by your side and you wouldn’t be able to die since you are a LITERAL goddess

-Had tried to convince you to bring Lute up here multiple times but you told him that you weren’t able to do that for the sake of the rules that were written down for you, you did tell him that if she did die that she would come up here and could stay here with the two of you if he wanted. Adam agreed with little hesitation because he realized that he might get you all to himself but if Lute was her she could protect you like your bodyguard

-As if you were gonna need one! If anyone tried attacking you they’re flicked away and if they did manage to after trying to get to where your at

“Oh come on Sugar tits! You will live Lute and we both could get what we want! I can have my best pal with me and you could have another person to add to this house that could pretty you!” Adam tried convincing you, walking side by side in the garden of flowers that Demeter had set up for you since she said your house was a bit dull m, that was but it wasn’t anymore when Adam arrived here and moved in total with your permission.

“I had already told you Adam, I’m not aloud the only way she could come up here is if she dies WITHOUT it being caused by me or any of the others.” You told him for the second time in the past two minutes man. Wait sugar tits? Oh great another nickname for you, guess it was a bit better than bitch mommy, gross. “Oh don’t be like that babes, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s just one person!” Adam said, slurping on his slurpee in hand, his golden wings resting behind his back. He no longer had his weird looking mask since he had died without it on.

“You ask one more time and I’ll take you going on walks with me in the garden away no scratch that, I'll take you sleeping with me away for a whole damn week if it makes you be quiet.” That had gotten Adam to shut up rather quickly huh guess that’s one of the things he doesn’t wanna go a week without or even a single day. He had bugged you so much one time so you kicked him out of your room for a whole night, he slept outside the door and apologized for what he did later that morning. He couldn’t even stand the feeling of sleeping without you in your big giant bed together.

Nodding your head as you continue your way through the garden admiring the flowers that Demeter had made for you. It was rather normal for all the gods or in other cases goddesses to give the others housewarming gifts. Demeter gave all of you plants and flowers, Eros had gotten any pink and pastel colors to represent love. Ares had gotten all shades of red and some black ones that often had both colors mixed to represent the war for him which he loved gladly.

Themis had gotten just blue that were all shades since she only wanted blue and some were white as an exception since Demeter said it was too bluey for the whole garden. You had gotten all kinds of colors since you were creation and creation could make any color and another part of the garden had darker shades of colors including black, all shades of gray, brown, and etc to represent the destruction.

Ares gave every person some knight armory stands along side the outside or inside of the huge like places you all live at to represent the protection of knights that could come to live from his power to protect the place it guards if anything tried to ever attack which was very unlikely but better be safe than sorry. Eros gifted everyone scented candles with your favorite scents and always gave you all new ones every once or two weeks cause the old ones melt away but that’s okay!

Themis gifted everyone scale if anyone needed an option on anything if you don’t ever make up your mind or see where a person should go to be either reincarnated or whiling them from the face of the entire existence. Your gift to everyone was to make anything they wished for since you had creation letting you create anything with the power of your magic that didn’t break a single sweat from you.

“How does a nice dinner and a movie tonight sound to you?” Breaking the silence with ease as your hand held the flower between your fingertips, the beauty is always surprising on how pretty and amazing things can look if you just focus on the present instead of technology, staying inside all day, or just not giving a single care about the world at all. “That sounds awesome, sugar tits.” Adam quickly agreed, grinning ear to ear, and there that nickname was there again.

Not able to hold the smile back from appearing on your face, letting out a laugh as you cover your mouth with your hand. Your eyelids open up revealing [color] eyes that had a star in the middle of it as the pupils. What made you even more beautiful to Adam in the scenery was your smile that would be worth a thousand or even more words that he spent in a heartbeat. But also because of the way you looked at him with pure eyes that seemed to easily overpower anyone if they tried to fight you, yet again they held both the sunset and sunrise you would always want to see with your significant other every day at any given chance that was open for free.

The sun shining brightly behind you making your appearance glow brightly made Adam feel like he fell so much harder for you than he already was. If he thought he was already deeply in love with you, this one handed split second had sealed the deal on his love that he felt for only you. And the way you were looking at him with laughter and a smile he knew you must love him back. If it wasn’t his cockyness talking he would say that he was glad you were starting to love him but maybe not as much as he loves you but that’s okay cause he could love you with all the love he’d offer. Maybe even kill sinners and angels combined to see you give him that smile every day.

[shorthaltsjester]

while vox machina reading percy’s letter is something i would love to see in tlovm i doubt it will make an appearance just for hard to fit in reasons, but that said i do really like that they’re integrating a lot of the inner work of percy that we get insight on through that letter in his words and actions thus far. his words at the end of ep 6 when he says “i’ve worried these hands would always carry the stain of evil. but, perhaps i can finally scour them clean in ripley’s blood” were ones that immediately stood out as an echo to his post-mortem words in the letter. because while it is a banger of a line, it’s in response to vex raising concern that this is just vengeance in different clothes, and percy doesn’t really assuage that well by explaining that he thinks he’ll cleanse himself of evil by dousing himself in blood. in the letter he writes “i traded the world’s safety for the belief that i could murder my way to peace, that if i could be a greater horror, it would bring my family back. once this lie was shattered, i scrambled to find a solution, to make a deal, to undo my mistakes and balance the scales. i now understand there are no scales. there is no redemption, and no ledger that judges me good or evil.” which i really see in the fluctuating attitude we see with percy given the adjustment of pre-[redacted] perc’ahlia where percy is happy and sees a future unfolding as he’s let go of his vengeance but this spectre of his past and his choices keeps interrupting it in the guise of ripley & orthax, leading to us getting to see him talk about building a future in whitestone and wrangling with the fact that — as it exists now — his legacy is one he views as solely of death and destruction and failing those close to him (which. god the fact that the hot tub scene and the destruction of whitestone are the same episode is insane but. percy having just been told by vax that he thought percy attracted danger and the reminder that he was the cause of vex’s death and then in the rubble of whitestone castle thinking he’d have to beg vex to join him as if she hasn’t been fully ride or die for him since before vm arrived in whitestone for the first time. obsessed with a couple where they both think they’re bad omens and both view each other as one of the best things that could’ve happened to them).

one of my favourite things about percy’s character arc in terms of looking at it as a narrative has always been the dismissal of ‘redemption’; not because he hasn’t done horrible things, but because redemption is irrelevant to the fact that percy does survive and he does move forward and that he cannot undo the past; neither to stop himself from making the world worse with his weapons nor to save his family from destruction — all of which would be true whether or not he was sufficiently redeemed. i am sad (though i very much understand why percy’s visit with the raven queen wasn’t included in the show) that we don’t get the scene of percy being confronted with the brokenness of mortaldom when the raven queen tells him he (and every mortal) is broken and scrambling both in front of her and with his actions after because he is a self-proclaimed fixer. because that conversation brings about the reality that there are things that cannot, will not, and should not be fixed. and percy takes that seriously, and commits himself, shed of a notion that he is determined solely by gods or his past, to looking forward. and though we don’t get the gods aspect of it in the show, we do get his conversation with vex in front of the fire, telling her he finds himself excited to feel possibility for the first time (while also extending a place for her in that possibility with him which . head in hands. a future he had cheaply sold away) and that he looks forward to building something instead of destroying. that vex reminded him days earlier to forgive himself while he was tinkering at a desk with a model clock tower resting on it. i have my critiques of tlovm but i do think they’re doing truly phenomenal work with retelling percy’s story in particular and i’m psyched to see where the rest of this season takes that as they deal with ripley, whatever version of glintshore we may see, and the ramifications for the person percy becomes after.

[littleeyesofpallas]

Okay okay catching up on Bleach because I was putting it off...

So the soul king has an actual name now and it's apparently Adnyeus(?*)[アドナイェウス] which at a glance I thought was some kind of weird mashup of Hebrew Adonai[אֲדֹנָי] and Latin deus as a kind of play on Yhwach's name being based on the tetragrammaton. But actually it's just the name Aidoneus[Ἀϊδωνεύς] which was an old epithet for the Greek Hades, supposedly meaning "The Unseen" which somewhat superficially fits for the Soul King as a king of the dead/underworld.

*(I have no idea where anyone is getting these romanizations I see flying around...)

It's actually not the first time the name has come up. some eagle eyed fans caught that what appears to be "ADNYEUS" was shown back in episode 6 of TYBW in Ryuuken's notes, above the illustration of the castle Silbern. And then at the end of the previous season the anime added a chant to Yhwach's Auswählen that ran:

Kakageyo Gin no Monshou, Haiiro no Sougen, Hikari ni Uzumoreta, Enkan no Michi, Menou no Gankyu, Ougon no Shita, Zugai no Sakazuki, ADNYEUS no Hitsugi. Kakageru mono wa, Omae no Shinzou: AUSWÄHLEN [掲げよ 銀の紋章 灰色の草原 光に埋もれた円環の途 瑪瑙の眼球 黄金の舌 頭蓋の盃 アドナイェウスの棺 掲げるものは お前の心臓 聖別(アウスヴェーレン)] "Raise up Crest of Silver, Ash-colored(gray) Meadow, Circular Road hidden in (the) Light, Eye(s) of Agate, Tongue of Gold, Grail* of Skull, Coffin of Adnyeus. That which is Raised up is Your Heart: Auswählen."

*notably in one of Uryuu's German chants, the Japanese word for a [杯]:"sake cup" was paired with the German word Gral:"Grail", and [盃] and [杯] are alternate kanji for the same word. At the most literal the chant in Japanese just uses the word for "sake cup" like the one he uses for the schrift eucharist, but I feel like the more implicitly western imagery evoked by "skull Grail" or maybe "...chalice" is more in line with the ongoing aesthetic of Quincy spells

I'm not actually in a position to go doing a real deep dive on this but it does seem like at a glance there are associations with that alternate title with a specific incongruous variation of the god of the underworld--that is to say: characterizations of him under this epithets are not consistent with other more common interpretstions-- where he's actually got a lot of strong sun iconography. This of course maps almost perfectly with a bunch of stuff I've ranted on about a few different times in my Bleach ramblings.

Incidentally it is also the scientific namesake of the Papilio aidoneus... a black butterfly... In the first place Bleach's hell-butterflies were already a play on the real world association of butterflies and death, often either as psychopomps or themselves the souls of the dead. That they tie back in to the Soul King himself isn't too big a stretch.

As for this "triplet world" thing... We were already told that Hueco Mundo isn't actually it's own formal realm, it's the interstitial realm that just naturally exists in the space between one world and the next. So it kinda annoys me that this feels like it's really only being acknowledged because after the fact it's just where a big chunk of Bleach's plot happened, rather than actually being cosmologically on par with the other two.

Anyway the translations going around I notice are a little sloppy, mostly in that a few are clearly just machine translated and so ignored the use of Bleach specific terminology, like "reishi" and "kishi" so here's my quick breakdown of it (thank god it's short...)

原初の海から分かたれた尸魂界,現世, 虚圏の三つの世界。 The Three Worlds of Soul Society, This (the mortal) World, Hueco Mundo divided* from the Sea of Origin. 遍く魂魄の流れを司る礎であり, かつ世界の楔たる存在によって, The universal flow of spirits is the foundation to control, as well as the lynchpin of the world which is due to existence, 霊子の世界,器子の世界,砂の楽土の三世界が分離され, the Three Worlds of The World of Reishi, The World of Kishi, The Paradise of Sand are detached*, 『生』と『死』が隔てられた。 "Life" and "Death" were isolated*.

*so interestingly all three of these different words could be translated into english as "separated" but seem to be fairly distinct contextual differences: the first means like cutting one big thing up into smaller things the "A came from B" dynamic being the focus, the second means to be separated out almost like being categorized, and the third is to be isolated or alienated.

So first it's saying the three worlds came from one sea of origin, and that the flow of spirits between those three worlds is the key to existence being what it is, which is to say three distinct realms where death and life are these things that can never coexist. All of which is stuff we really already knew.

Also we're supposed to have just completely forgotten about Hell since it's not the current plot line, I guess? I anything the Three Worlds should be Soul Society, the Material World, and Hell, with Hueco Mundo as the interstitial void/aether, like it was originally defined as. That would at least map more sensibly onto the buddhist 3 realms of Form(Humans & animals: those bound by their physicality), Formless(Deva & Asura: those who exist in a hightened mental/spiritual state), and Desire(Preta & those in Hell: those defined by their strong need for what they lack)

Maybe that only real point of interest is the reference to Hueco Mundo as suna no rakudo[砂の楽土], a "paradise of sand." In this voice I think the idea is that if life and death being separate realms is a bad thing that Yhwach seeks to rectify, then by being an inbetween realm, Hueco Mundo is a paradise, because it's a place of neither life nor death? But if it is a place of rest and comfort then I wonder if that doesn't validate my thoughts on the Vastolorde being the natural path of development for a soul in reincarnation afterall?

That aside, this mostly just lines up with existing Buddhist/Hindu parallels that were always pretty obviously implied but not so directly touched on. Once again things I've babbled about in some form or another already... I'm not about to go digging them all up right now.