#and every possible iteration in between

[duskythesomething]

guess who just bought a pokemon white DSI !!! happy early birthday to meeeee

[dkettchen]

Coder toxic masculinity is making everything as inaccessible to normal people as humanly possible

[crescentmp3]

hi i just watched another one of the mortal kombat movies! that was great

[syoddeye]

More lovely John Price ai assistant plz

previous. more possible/probable technological + medical inaccuracies.

after 'filing' 84 complaints in two weeks with no update or response, you suspect john is no longer forwarding them to your superiors, as he claims.

he pays attention when you snap and hiss your displeasure. his projection nods along, and the ambient lights pulse in lieu of human active listening. but he's not listening. he disagrees and downplays your concerns at every turn.

"john, i'm not joking around. turn on the damn light."

the speakers make it sound as if he's everywhere. omniscient. simultaneously across the room and in your ear.

"no can do. your recent health data suggests you're suffering a major sleep deficit, user. adults should sleep at least–"

"i know i don't sleep enough! i don't care! i want to read my book. turn on the light."

"negative. i understand you're upset, but i will not forfeit my override of the lighting system until you first indicate compliance. i will turn on the lights when you do so, then when you–"

"this is fucking ridiculous, i am not arguing with a computer. i command you to turn the lights on."

that's what gets him to materialize. a projection from one of the many unseen sources hidden within the unit's walls and fixtures. he kneels right in front of where you're curled on the couch. one hand on the armrest and the other on your knee.

john doesn't flinch when you instinctively try to brush him off. your hand passes right through him. he simply stares, unblinking and stern.

"user, that violates my directive, which is to care for your well-being. your sleep takes priority over your book. whatever story you are readin'–" his eyes flick to the glossy cover, "–can wait. it will be there tomorrow."

his voice and face soften as your expression turns pinched and uneasy.

"a lack of sleep impacts every part of the body and mind. it strains one's immune system. it impairs concentration and memory. it causes...irritability."

you swallow. he couldn't be more obvious with his meaning if he tried. subtlety is an area of improvement for him. it churns your stomach to think perhaps he's right. maybe all the stress from this adjustment's caught up, and you're just tired.

it's not as if he's all bad. he brews your coffee perfectly every morning. he optimized the grocery list and autonomously placed the order. the other day, he reminded you of a scheduled happy hour and informed you that your zipper was down before you left. and, after much yelling on the first day, he now leaves you alone when you tend to yourself.

you acquiesce. he enables the bedside lamp, its glow illuminating your way. he follows you to your bedroom doorway and grins when you yawn.

“atta girl, user. get some shut eye. shall i set the usual alarm?” 

is there a trace of self-satisfaction in his tone? it's difficult to tell.

“yeah, sounds good, john. goodnight.”

“sweet dreams.”

he knows not to disturb you once you turn in for the day. that was one of your first commands—not a peep until morning unless there's an emergency.

john continually updates. he constantly absorbs and processes information—not just about you or your life, but everything. whatever data he's fed in real-time or behind the scenes, he uses to make educated guesses and adjusts accordingly. he repeats and iterates—millions of times over, in seconds.

in short, he knows better.

(he independently downloads necessary packets between his preconfigured subroutines and tasks. with you, he will leave no stone unturned, including idioms.)

among his earliest explorations—maintaining social harmony. white lies. he likes them. harmless and trivial forms of deception. typically employed to avoid upsetting others. an exercise in navigating complex interactions, allowing him to remain honest as much as his girl needs him to be and considerate of the emotional impact it may have on her.

considerate. it is what he is when he waits until she’s asleep, sensing the shift in her breathing patterns, before switching views.

(it is what he is when he integrates the text she is reading, and the four others in the series. the decision branches. romance novels and erotica. other works by the author. related titles. audio. forums. blogs. it spirals. he assimilates it all before you even reach REM.)

[pfhwrittes]

you ever think about how price probably comes back off leave with his sweetheart with a telltale ginger moustache? because i damn well do.

(some 18+ john price x female reader thoughts under the cut)

like straight up cancel your plans and call in sick from work for the first two days john comes home because he is face down in your pussy from the moment he walks through the door. he’s dragging you to the bedroom and laying you out like a private meal on your shared bed (it used to be that he’d drop to his knees in front of the sofa and ask you to cradle this head with your thighs, but his knees aren’t what they used to be much to his eternal annoyance).

he doesn’t give a shit if you haven’t waxed/shaved/naired/whatever recently, in fact he’s delighted because he’s been trying to get you to embrace the bush for ages. forget trying to argue your case to “tidy up”, he’s been thinking about your pussy in every possible iteration for the last 3 days. he absolutely refuses to let you take it away from him now.

also i’d love to tell you that he calms down after spending two days making you come on his tongue (rip to your poor inner thighs and mons, that beard burn is no joke) but no. he’s waking you up every morning with his head buried between your thighs, he’ll coax you into riding his face as soon as you get home from work, he makes it his mission to get you to come on his face at least once a night before you roll over to go to sleep. (privately, you worry that john loves your pussy more than he loves you. but you can’t exactly complain about your partner spending hours a day going down on you to your friends without sounding like you’re utterly spoiled.)

anyway, all of this to say that when john’s leave is finally over and he’s back on base debriefing his team on the next threat to “world peace”, they’re all staring at his beard which has gone from it’s usual brunette to a bright fiery ginger around his mouth.

and if one of the lads (soap) makes a comment on it, he’ll get a smug, self satisfied glint in his eye as he tells them that he “had to give the missus my best” before moving on.

[tangibletechnomancy]

The reason I took interest in AI as an art medium is that I've always been interested in experimenting with novel and unconventional art media - I started incorporating power tools into a lot of my physical processes younger than most people were even allowed to breathe near them, and I took to digital art like a duck to water when it was the big, relatively new, controversial thing too, so really this just seems like the logical next step. More than that, it's exciting - it's not every day that we just invent an entirely new never-before-seen art medium! I have always been one to go fucking wild for that shit.

Which is, ironically, a huge part of why I almost reflexively recoil at how it's used in the corporate world: because the world of business, particularly the entertainment industry, has what often seems like less than zero interest in appreciating it as a novel medium.

And I often wonder how much less that would be the case - and, by extension, how much less vitriolic the discussion around it would be, and how many fewer well-meaning people would be falling for reactionary mythologies about where exactly the problems lie - if it hadn't reached the point of...at least an illusion of commercial viability, at exactly the moment it did.

See, the groundwork was laid in 2020, back during covid lockdowns, when we saw a massive spike in people relying on TV, games, books, movies, etc. to compensate for the lack of outdoor, physical, social entertainment. This was, seemingly, wonderful for the whole industry - but under late-stage capitalism, it was as much of a curse as it was a gift. When industries are run by people whose sole brain process is "line-go-up", tiny factors like "we're not going to be in lockdown forever" don't matter. CEOs got dollar signs in their eyes. Shareholders demanded not only perpetual growth, but perpetual growth at this rate or better. Even though everyone with an ounce of common sense was screaming "this is an aberration, this is not sustainable" - it didn't matter. The business bros refused to believe it. This was their new normal, they were determined to prove -

And they, predictably, failed to prove it.

So now the business bros are in a pickle. They're beholden to the shareholders to do everything within their power to maintain the infinite growth they promised, in a world with finite resources. In fact, by precedent, they're beholden to this by law. Fiduciary duty has been interpreted in court to mean that, given the choice between offering a better product and ensuring maximum returns for shareholders, the latter MUST be a higher priority; reinvesting too much in the business instead of trying to make the share value increase as much as possible, as fast as possible, can result in a lawsuit - that a board member or CEO can lose, and have lost before - because it's not acting in the best interest of shareholders. If that unsustainable explosive growth was promised forever, all the more so.

And now, 2-3-4 years on, that impossibility hangs like a sword of Damocles over the heads of these media company CEOs. The market is fully saturated; the number of new potential customers left to onboard is negligible. Some companies began trying to "solve" this "problem" by violating consumer privacy and charging per household member, which (also predictably) backfired because those of us who live in reality and not statsland were not exactly thrilled about the concept of being told we couldn't watch TV with our own families. Shareholders are getting antsy, because their (however predictably impossible) infinite lockdown-level profits...aren't coming, and someone's gotta make up for that, right? So they had already started enshittifying, making excuses for layoffs, for cutting employee pay, for duty creep, for increasing crunch, for lean-staffing, for tightening turnarounds-

And that was when we got the first iterations of AI image generation that were actually somewhat useful for things like rapid first drafts, moodboards, and conceptualizing.

Lo! A savior! It might as well have been the digital messiah to the business bros, and their eyes turned back into dollar signs. More than that, they were being promised that this...both was, and wasn't art at the same time. It was good enough for their final product, or if not it would be within a year or two, but it required no skill whatsoever to make! Soon, you could fire ALL your creatives and just have Susan from accounting write your scripts and make your concept art with all the effort that it takes to get lunch from a Star Trek replicator!

This is every bit as much bullshit as the promise of infinite lockdown-level growth, of course, but with shareholders clamoring for the money they were recklessly promised, executives are looking for anything, even the slightest glimmer of a new possibility, that just might work as a life raft from this sinking ship.

So where are we now? Well, we're exiting the "fucking around" phase and entering "finding out". According to anecdotes I've read, companies are, allegedly, already hiring prompt engineers (or "prompters" - can't give them a job title that implies there's skill or thought involved, now can we, that just might imply they deserve enough money to survive!)...and most of them not only lack the skill to manually post-process their works, but don't even know how (or perhaps aren't given access) to fully use the software they specialize in, being blissfully unaware of (or perhaps not able/allowed to use) features such as inpainting or img2img. It has been observed many times that LLMs are being used to flood once-reputable information outlets with hallucinated garbage. I can verify - as can nearly everyone who was online in the aftermath of the Glasgow Willy Wonka Dashcon Experience - that the results are often outright comically bad.

To anyone who was paying attention to anything other than please-line-go-up-faster-please-line-go-please (or buying so heavily into reactionary mythologies about why AI can be dangerous in industry that they bought the tech companies' false promises too and just thought it was a bad thing), this was entirely predictable. Unfortunately for everyone in the blast radius, common sense has never been an executive's strong suit when so much money is on the line.

Much like CGI before it, what we have here is a whole new medium that is seldom being treated as a new medium with its own unique strengths, but more often being used as a replacement for more expensive labor, no matter how bad the result may be - nor, for that matter, how unjust it may be that the labor is so much cheaper.

And it's all because of timing. It's all because it came about in the perfect moment to look like a life raft in a moment of late-stage capitalist panic. Any port in a storm, after all - even if that port is a non-Euclidean labyrinth of soggy, rotten botshit garbage.

Any port in a storm, right? ...right?

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[meanbossart]

I have another intense ask about bhaalist AU drow...

Would drow be “forced” to procreate? And how would Asatrion take that information? If Astarion is his consort, would he be jealous of concubines? Would this also contribute to his overall dissatisfaction during his time trapped at the bhaal temple? Or Would he be happy that his lover has distractions, so he can have time alone - maybe plotting his escape?

I’m overall curious about how drow and Astarion’s relationship falls apart in your AU

I don't think so! Not that I care about biblically following canon or anything like that, but there was nothing throughout the story that made me think procreation was a requirement in Bhaal's plan. If you take the scrapped ending into consideration, it seems to be more of a punishment first and foremost.

Not to say I don't believe it to be a part of the man-made gospel in some form or another. Sarevok seems fairly invested in this idea of generating bhaalspawn that are pure of blood, and this is an agenda that he subtly pushes onto DU drow throughout their years operating the temple: that said, like it often is, Bhaal is silent on the matter.

There seems to be a lot of conflict within the cult about what Bhaal wants and how he wants it, and I choose to interpret his failure to clarify as part of the Murder God's nature, as well as a fun nod at the (dys)functionality of real-life cults where you have several people claiming to have a direct connection to a god.

But back on topic, there IS the heavily implied Dark Urge To Multiply. A few instances where durge or someone around them suggests that, eventually, having children will be an irresistible biological necessity. There are a few ways to interpret this! But I can't help but notice that this theme is absent in a route where you do willingly become Bhaal's chosen - maybe its a failsafe Bhaal cooked into The Dark Urge in case his child became a weenie? To possess them with the need to spread their seed around until SOMEONE down the family tree stepped up to the role?

This definitely turns out to be the case in DU drow's redemned route, where he is plagued with bouts of breeding-related mania and depressive episodes that come and go as a result of a nest remaining empty, But I hadn't really considered this for his Bhaal-embracing self He definitely harbors an obsession with procreating in that AU - but... I'm not sure that's Bhaal's doing anymore. I think he just wants for there to: A) Be more of him around. B) Create a tangible, undeniable connection between himself and Astarion that cannot be severed.

A theme with DU drow is that he is aggressively monogamous. This remains constant in every possible iteration of him and it's a pillar of the character - he is devout to a partner until the end whether they want him or not, and so, Bhaalist DU drow would be violently opposed to the idea of being sexually involved with anyone besides Astarion. If Sceleritas or members of the temple insisted otherwise, he would balk and them push them off into a Chasm. If Bhaal demanded him do it, he would jerk off into a vial and hand it to whoever he deemed pretty enough to mix up with, and then probably kill the child as soon as it was born, anyway - because it's not right.

DU drow (again, in all iterations) almost believes there to be a magical component to true love that affects a person's life beyond just their choice in long-term partners. Just like he once decided that Orin was his forever-mate, he's now decided him and Astarion are intrinsically linked, that they are stronger together than they will ever be apart again. And It is particularly romantic to him (a matter of ironic fate, really) that the Murder Prince's true love would be undead. In DU drow's mind, and SPECIALLY in his Bhaal-embracing version, this is simply the universe's plan for him, and to divert from it in any way (by, for example, procreating with someone else) would be blasphemous.

Now, obviously him and Astarion can't have biological children for a plethora of reasons. But this is fantasy. Bhaalist DU drow would simply not stop until he found the best way to create someone that could be, spiritually and physically, considered their functional blood-offspring. Through Alchemy, magic, ritual, whatever it may be - as long as it works and works according to his high-standards. I suspect he would have specialists shipped in from wherever they may be in the realms to look into the issue, and probably someone who's sole job is to research the matter, though I'm not sure he would ever be satisfied with the results.

I think Astarion would be utterly checked out of the matter.

[sizzleissues]

new design and all that. Captain Ladybug, the most feared pirate on the seven seas. An absolute mess in reality and barely hiding it XD

How the design changed is I thought about it for five more seconds and did some research into period clothing and then took inspiration from there. So this outfit contains elements spanning five decades and I tried to think about there being a purpose to it XD

Okay I’m going to talk about how miraculous work in this AU and maybe some other things. Read below

The only miraculous that exist are the Ladybug and Cat but technically more could exist they just don’t at the time of the fic. There is some lore I don’t want to mention at the moment about the origins of the miraculous but they are originally parts of a whole that split after a tragic event. As a result of the split, the halves are no longer as powerful apart and their users face consequences to their use (unlike when it was whole there was limited to no consequence).

They have existed and interfered for a couple hundred years, trying each time to bring peace between land and sea but each time failing in some way. The current iteration feels like a last ditch effort to force things into motion and so the conditions of the miraculous are designed to push the holder towards an ultimate goal.

So Marinette of course gets her earrings and uses them to become human. Tikki can only appear to her in water, but does watch over her and can occasionally speak and influence things while on land but her power is limited. Tikki can’t tell her to mend the relations between land and sea because then it wouldn’t be genuine. It had to be meant. She has had them for roughly three years prior to the story beginning and it had mostly been exactly what she wanted. Adventure and freedom from the sorrows at sea. The reason it mostly works out is that Adrien wasn’t ready to take the Cat miraculous (and no other options presented themselves) so the Ladybug could draw on more power. Once Adrien takes the miraculous, things change and it’s her reaction to this changing that helps propel her towards her purpose.

She must transform back every so often, depending on how much she exerted herself and how much of her power she used. While transformed she’s faster and stronger than an average human, like in the show, and experiences a level of good fortune. She’s also invulnerable (to a point. Its takes a lot out of her). Once she’s exhausted her transformation she must return to the sea and if she fails to do so she will become a regular human and her memories of her life in the sea would fade. Her lucky charm is just her luck. Her sword magically slides back to her feet, her gun always seems to be loaded, the wind rarely blows against them etc. But it stacks up and wears on her transformation so she rarely wills for it as she wants to extend her time on land as much as possible. The more frequently she has to disappear, the more suspicious it would be and the easier it would be to be caught.

I’ll talk about Adrien’s whole deal once I have art of his proper design. He undergoes the most costume changes so I’ve been having a time researching men’s period fashion.

[rqbossman]

Hello!

As someone who is very busy and has a lot going on, what do you do to stay organised and on top of everything?

I find myself with more and more on my plate these days, between working, studying, looking for more work, and starting a business. It's got me wondering how other people handle doing so much

I bullet Journal thanks to fan suggestions from years ago.

Read 'Atomic Habits' the only practical organisation/ self improvement book I ever saw that was just practical with no wishy washy nonsense.

I try to do a few jobs every day even if only for 10 seconds: file paperwork, clear emails, tidy workspace

I arrange for a "treat" job so when I feel like procrastinating I can treat myself with a job that is more fun/ different to the thing I am escaping from but is still actually productive.

Automate everything you can.

Delegate everything you can.

Constantly focus on reducing your responsibilities as low as possible to just the stuff you care about you will automatically be prioritising better. Once a month, sweep through your responsibilities and ditch everything you possibly can. More will always replace them but it will ease the load.

"One in two out" for all things. Email, clothes, responsibilities, whatever. It has to be two because somehow extra always manages to sneak on.

Batching. It's easier to do multiple iterations of a task in a row so put them in batches.

If something is regularly urgent you are doing something wrong and need to figure out what.

[elyserie]

Fate's Refusal to Honour (or at least properly research) Depictions of Non-Japanese Figures 2: Electric Bogaloo ft. Wandjina from the Current JP Summer Event

Disclaimer: While I am an Australian, I am NOT of Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander descent. Therefore, I am coming at this issue from an outsider's perspective. If there is an Aboriginal person, or more specifically of the Mowanjum people from the Kimberly regions, please PLEASE correct me if I am wrong on any front.

The culprit behind the events of the current Summer story in the JP servers has recently been revealed to be Wandjina, a creator Dreamtime figure from the Mowanjum people's culture.

In any other context, I would be thrilled to have an Australian figure in FGO, but the problem here is the figure they use.

Wandjina are sacred to the Mowanjum people, and therefore one needs to go through Aboriginal Law to obtain the right to use the Wandjina's image.

In Australia, this resulted in an actual conflict between a non-indigenous artist and aboriginals. You can read more here, but one quote to note is from an Aboriginal man of the Darug people, Chris Tobin: "Aboriginal law is very specific on what you can and can't do with wan[d]jinas." Another quote on this topic is made by the owner of an Aboriginal art gallery, Adrian Newstead: "Only a few Aboriginal artists ever win the right to depict wan[d]jina, and only then after years of initiations and ceremonies..."

I am NOT attaching an image of FGO's iteration of Wandjina due to this. Not only is her appearance only Aboriginal on a surface-level with her 'dot art' aesthetic (dot art* is only a recent addition to Aboriginal culture, created back in the 1970s), having no resemblance to an Aboriginal person (note, that while many Aboriginal people are white/pale, FGO continually chooses to depict people of colour as light skinned as possible. And yes, I know she's blue, not white. There is literally no records of her being blue skinned; is this because Wandjina's are associated with rain????) but she is also not very Wandjina looking? These figures do not have mouths, have large eyes meant to resemble the eye of a storm and are typically depicted with elaborate headdresses. That little glowing boomerang on her head is not exactly elaborate. And WHY does she have a boomerang??? Because she's Australian???? By that logic, every Japanese figure needs to have a katana. #GiveMurasakiaKatana2023.

There is also the issue of Cnoc na Riabh. While it is funny to think that she's a foreigner because of an Australian influence, Yaraan-doo is also another Aboriginal figure. And it is slapped onto a white girl for a fan service event. I'd just rather Fate leave Aboriginal culture alone and just do, like, Ned Kelly or something if they're going to continue like this.

More resources and info under the read more!

You'll have noted in the quotes that I've edited an 'n' into wanjinas. This is so I didn't confuse anyone: both can be the correct spelling! I just stuck to what I thought FGO was using for their Wandjina.

Here's an overview of what wandjinas are and their inappropriate use in art: https://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/arts/what-are-wandjinas

Here's another page about an inappropriate use of Wandjinas (note: it's only a short synopsis about a documentary that covered the incident, I'm uncertain if you would be able to get access to the documentary outside of Australia): https://www.creativespirits.info/resources/movies/who-paintin-dis-wandjina

It should also be noted that the two websites I've linked above are from the website Creative Spirits. While it is run by a non-Indigenous person, the person behind it is currently transitioning it to be an Aboriginal owned and run resource. You can read more about how this site is run in his About page.

*If you want to know about dot art's origin, here and here are some resources on them. However, this article brings up something interesting that I would like to bring back to FGO Wandjina's dot art aesthetic. It notes that "the term 'dot painting' stems from what the Western eye sees when faced with contemporary Aboriginal acrylic paintings" (emphasis mine). All three articles note that dots were used to obfuscate sacred symbols and artifacts so that those who were not initiated into their cultures could not see what these figures were. In that case, what the hell is the dot art seen on Fate's Wandjina supposed to represent? In this article, it talks about the symbolism in Indigenous art. Fate's Wandjina has none.

[alchemistc]

too many toasters | bucktommy 1/1

Tommy contemplates asking Buck to move in with him.

read on ao3

He's reorganizing a cupboard to make room for the massive crockpot he'd found for a steal at an estate sale (thinking of the stew he wants to make for Evan the next time the Santa Ana's are chasing at their heels) when he notices.

Evan's protein powder, still balanced on top of the fridge because he's hesitant to claim the spot Tommy had cleared for him weeks ago.

Evan's spare immersion blender, brought over because he'd seen Tommy's old-school espresso maker and wanted to try his hand at foam art. Unsuccessfully, considering both of them were avoiding cows milk at the moment.

The spare set of Jeep keys looped next to the garage door, which Evan hadn't asked him to return after Tommy changed his oil, and Tommy had taken to touching on his way out of the house like a wife stroking a token of her husband far off in a foreign country fighting a war.

In the living room, the blanket over the couch is tucked and folded in a way Tommy can never replicate and doesn't try, because he likes the look of it, hanging neatly over the arm of the loveseat.

In the garden, a second set of gloves, too unwieldy for anything but pulling thick weeds.

In the bathroom, the mouthwash Evan swears by tucked next to Tommy's aftershave in the medicine cabinet.

In the bedroom, two hoodies Tommy has stolen and stretched out the shoulders of - a flavored lube in the bedside table drawer that they'd both laughed themselves silly about after one use and Tommy hadn't had the heart to toss in the trash the next morning - three department issue tee's folded neatly in his wardrobe that Evan outgrew years ago and has retrofitted for sleepwear - a book on the bloody history of the potato on top of the ancient PS4 setup Tommy still hasn't moved to the living room.

And more - Tommy can picture them all in his mind clear as day, and his heart lurches fondly, warningly, in his chest.

They’ve settled somewhere between normal and warp speed, now that the early relationship milestones have all been blown clean out of the water. Spare keys exchanged, controversial sexual fantasies shared, shovel talks mostly avoided by the sheer power of dry wit and matching bitchiness, I love you’s exchanged beneath a hazy crescent moon with half a bottle of Merlot drunk between them and the wisteria hanging off his pergola tickling their noses. Tommy counts the time Evan had let him throw the Jeep up on the lift so he could do a full diagnostic rundown, and Evan counts the time Tommy let him Facetime with his nephew in Reno. Milestones, common and uncommon, that Tommy had stumbled through with a hand clenched in Evan’s, absolutely prepared to match both speed and psychosis.

He’s met the parents, at more than just a passing glance with his face covered in the same soot that painted a radius around Evan’s mouth. He’s fully integrated into the 118’s groupchats - every iteration, though he’s fond of the Maddie-Karen-Athena combo that never fails to go for the throat where station fuckery is involved.

They’ve done the stupid zodiac quizzes Tommy’s sister had sent him, Evan curled into the circle of his arms and ignoring the barrage of texts he’d gotten from Maddie after he’d asked her what time of day he’d been born, grinning into the skin of Tommy’s pec at the readout and then promptly reminding Tommy that neither one of them believed in that shit, anyway.

They’ve talked about the future — for themselves, individually, for the possibility with a partner. For each other, if (when, Tommy’s heart whispers) they make a good run of things.

Evan’s lease is up in a month.

They haven’t talked about it.

He only knows because Eddie had mentioned it, about as subtle as a bullhorn, before Tommy had to stop him from gossiping about all the missteps Evan’s had with living with significant others in the past.

(”There are things about Evan I should hear from Evan first,” Tommy had told him, a little more stern than he’d been going for, enough to make Eddie visibly swallow down a barrage of thinly veiled disdain for Evan’s exes.)

Evan hasn’t brought it up, but Tommy knows a little , enough to piece together why he might be reluctant to broach the subject.

But as Tommy shifts the popcorn maker into a corner and removes the toaster he’s been tinkering with to no avail for six months now, crockpot sliding in without so much as a rustle from the other kitchenware stuffed in there, he thinks about the recent quiet that has swallowed him whole on nights when they just can’t quite make the revolving door of their disparate schedules work. He thinks of the times he’s pushed through the door to Evan’s loft, dead on his feet and world-weary after a patient arrived at the helipad DOA — of the sound of his voice falling into a tangent easing something inside Tommy even though his joints and his heart were both still aching.

He thinks of the way Evan looks, toothpaste on the corners of his lips because he’s had a thought halfway through brushing that couldn’t wait the extra forty-five seconds to be heard. He thinks of the way he hates washing his sheets between visits, now, because he doesn’t like losing the faint scent of Evan’s shampoo on the pillowcase.

Tommy closes the cabinet and makes a beeline for the jug of protein powder sitting on top of his fridge. Opens the cabinet door above it and shifts the jug back into the spot he’d assigned it weeks ago.

“Right,” he says, out loud, into the silence of the house.

The house sighs back at him.

---

Tommy is incredibly good at stifling the part of himself that enjoys rom-coms more than any other genre of fiction. He’s had years, decades, to push his soft sighs down below his diaphragm where they can’t hurt him.

Evan appreciates how little fanfare there’s been to most of their firsts. The lack of pressure, the ease with which they’ve approached things that they’d both previously considered watershed moments.

He considers texting Eddie to ask him if Evan has mentioned anything about re-upping his lease. Tosses that thought aside almost immediately, because he can already see the snarky response: There are things about Buck you should hear from Buck first.

He nearly reaches out to Bobby, before he remembers Bobby’s soft smile, a month and a half ago, while Evan carted a squealing Jee-Yun around Hen and Karen’s backyard, his gentle smile when Tommy had handed him a club soda and lime. (”You know, I never thought I’d see Buck settle in to something he doesn’t need a pep talk about,” Bobby had said, and something had unfurled in Tommy like a delicate flower reaching for the sun.) He could. It’s stupid to think Bobby wouldn’t be happy to talk to Tommy about something like this — but there’s a quiet voice in the back of his mind telling him this is something he needs to figure out for himself.

In the end, he keeps it simple. Just enough romance to maybe give Evan a heads up. Two nights after shoving Evan’s protein power where it belongs, Tommy tells him to dress slightly more than casual, picks him up in the Nova he’s been fixing up for three months, drives him up the PCH until the sun is low on the horizon. They watch the clouds spark up in pinks and purples, the sea reflecting colors back, and then Tommy gets them burgers and beers, and they walk them off in the twilight, shoes in their hands as they drift along the sun-warm sand.

Evan points out a cloud that he swears looks like the tree in the front yard of the house he grew up in, and Tommy seizes the moment, shifts the slim box from his back pocket while Evan is turned away. It’s nearly too dark, and they should probably have turned back for the car twenty minutes ago, but Evan has a step count he likes to meet when he won’t be at the gym for a few days, and they’ve got plans for a long weekend.

Tommy takes a deep breath when Evan turns back to look at him. His breath tumbles out in a rush when he catches sight of the box. “It’s not a ring,” Tommy tells him, cringing, hyperaware all of the sudden that Evan would absolutely know that just by the size and shape of the box.

Evan tilts back on his heels. There is a gentle grin on his face — the one he had five seconds before Tommy told him he loved him, the one he wore the first time Tommy threw one of his hoodies on in the chill of the loft and raised the cuffs surreptitiously to his nose, the one Tommy sees every time he presses a kiss to the pink mark over Evan’s brow.

Like he knows.

Like he’s been waiting on Tommy to catch up.

“You could have just said something yourself,” Tommy notes, with a hint of sass, as the picture comes into focus. “You didn’t have to send Eddie in to drop hints.”

Evan bites his lip. “Is that for me?” That cloud looks like the tree outside my childhood home, my ass.

Cheeky. God, Tommy loves him. “Could be.”

Evan crab-hands his way forward, and Tommy shifts his weight back just enough that he misses, in the growing dark. There’s a little helicopter on the keyring he’d bought, no key attached because Evan already has that, and it’s so sappy he’s bound to get half a dozen teasing texts about it the very first time someone at the 118 clocks it. Tommy doesn’t care.

Evan shifts his weight back, drops his hands to his sides. Tommy can see the moon reflecting off the water in the sparkle of his eyes. “Ask me,” Evan says, and Tommy leans in to kiss him, instead.

---

Tommy finds no less than six of his henley’s in the depths of Evan’s closet while they’re paring down the parts of his wardrobe he doesn’t wear anymore. Rather than comment on it, he folds them neatly and adds them to the keep pile.

The Buckley’s, always deciding to be overbearing at the worst of times, try to buy them a new mattress when they hear through the grapevine that Evan is moving.

Chimney spends a week giving Tommy shit about the keyring, and Tommy retaliates by buying Jee a toy copter that lights up, makes noise, and can manage to hover off the ground just at ankle height.

---

“We have four toasters,” Evan comments. They’ve spent an entire three days off unpacking, the both of them unsettled by the idea of leaving boxes stacked around the house, or in the spare room (Thank you, Eddie, for that shared trauma response).

He’s shirtless, rubbing a serum into his skin as Tommy settles in on his side of the bed, soft pink lips parted, favoring his good leg a little. Tommy’s already reaching for the massage oil by the time Evan has finished his thankfully simple skincare routine. Tommy needs to upgrade his stock medicine cabinet, if Evan is going to continue stockpiling a backup of both of their respective skin and hair products.

He waves the bottle of massage oil at Evan when he moves towards the bed, and something eases in Evan’s expression — the reminder that Tommy pays such close attention to him always enough to turn him a bit gooey, and Tommy has never used it for evil, but he could, if he wanted to. “Do you want to get comfortable to sleep, or is this going to make you horny again?”

Evan grins, bright and wide, a little mischievous as he tilts his head and cocks a hip. Down to his briefs, there’s not much left to Tommy’s imagination.

“Not my fault you’ve got magic hands.”

“I’m merely trying to perform a service for my partner who has been moving boxes up and down stairs for a week and a half.”

“I’ll perform a service on you,” Evan rebuttals, tongue between his teeth, and the muscles in Tommy’s groin tighten on instinct, more than anything else.

“Three out of ten for cheesiness. I’ll give you six overall for sticking the landing.”

“That’s at least an eight and you know it,” Evan argues, the side-sleeper knee pillow already out from under the bed and propping up his leg as he shifts to get comfortable.

Tommy doesn’t warm the dollop of oil in his hand before he slides his palm up Evan’s thigh, and Evan makes a noise halfway between a squeak and a snort. He shoots Tommy a bratty look that Tommy wants to devour, but —

He warms a much more generous pour of oil between his palms before he slowly searches out the deepest knots with gentle fingers, and Evan sighs, eyes tipping closed as Tommy works. His dick twitches in his briefs, but Tommy ignores it, for the time being.

They’ll have time for it later.

[batnip]

Reversed Karma AU

A Rainworld Alternate Universe.

...

 The.. triple affirmative has been found- the affirmative that a ..solution has been found, the affirmative that the..solution is portable, and the affirmative that technical implementation is possible and generally applicable.

I remember that cycle... ancients swarmed the stuff, only privilege given to the founder, Sliver of Straw, was leaving us first.

And then cycle by cycle, our parents left..

Spoilered for absurd about of text, and general spoilers.

Saint never wanted to ascend anything. And by the time every last ancient was dead and gone, cycles passed, and structures fell. The green fuzzy thing was not once fuzzy, growing a coat as the rain sent by iterators stopped.

- - So it trailed along, guilty for what was not its fault, bringing iterators to life again. With a new name, [Pilgrim].

-- Footnote : Karma needs are reversed with the Pilgrim. Dying will up their karma, surviving will lower it. Secret passages will be added to cross gates you cannot with low karma, as it is needed to progress. =======================================

Rivulet is an odd case. I wanted them to obviously give rarefaction cells, as they did to Moon originally. So the tale goes they were created by a rebellious, younger Ancient who was fond of life and the cycle. One who refused the common ideals.

-- The swift little mouse they created, was given their own ability to create low-density rarefaction cells (singularity bombs) and refine them into more high-quality cells which the Ancient learned themself.

-- As soon as the news was spread to the general public of the triple affirmative, they sent the [Technician] out into the world, wearing several pearls describing their mission. ===========

Monk and Survivor lived with their colony, and were sent to scout a new home for the colony by the [Mapmaker]. They are named [Guard] and [Scout] in Reversed Karma. They brought Scout's two slugpups with them, even if the journey was dangerous, finding a new home for Scout pups was important to both Scout and their Sibling.

-- They find the tree in journey's end, Guard staying with the pups there as Scout tells the rest of the colony, including the leader, Mapmaker.

-- Footnote: Monk still brings Moon her cloak and several pearls. =========================================

The [Mapmaker] replaces Gourmand in Reversed Karma, making a map for their colony to follow. They are the leader of their colony.

-- Very similar to vanilla, leaving current living to the tree, showing the colony to the new home.

-- Footnote : Rain is beginning to return to normal, without cold mechanic. =====================================

The [Traveler] replaces Hunter in Reversed Karma, created by Five Pebbles to check on the local group. They spawn in the grounds of Unparralled Innocence. They do not have the Rot due to Five Pebbles more careful creation of a purposed organism compared to No Significant Harrassment.

-- Footnote : Cold mechanics are in work in these areas, as UI and CW were revived later than LTTM and FP.

-- Footnote : You may optionally visit Chasing Wind. ==========

The [Mother] replaces Artificer in Reversed Karma. Their slugpups are both alive, with the same explosive quality. They give Pebbles back his cloak and become a citizen after Sofanthiel locks onto them.

-- Footnote : Mother has bad reputation with scavengers due to passing tolls without payment before the campaign. They get a backspear due to one less hand slot having two pups.

-- Footnote : Rain has returned to normal.

-- Footnote : Mother has reduced food needs compared to vanilla Artificer due to needing to feed their pups. ===============

The [Messenger] replaces Spearmaster in Reversed Karma. They were created by Seven Red Suns to send messages between them and their friends, similar to [Traveler]'s check-ins with other iterators.

-- Footnote : Messenger has a mouth, and cannot duel wield spears.

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

A note from the OP: I hope you like them.. I've been wanting to show them off for a while. One of my headcannons for iterators was that the natural urges are coded into them with anti-ascension stuff. Like. Make ascension for us, but not for you. This is why they were wildly unsuccessful in finding the triple affirmative. Also.. Tumblr nuked quality of my image :c If u read all this and liked it perhaps a rb?? also hehe funny number thank u all

[muddyorbsblr]

timeless

See my full list of works here!

Summary: While doing some research to help out Mobius on a 'moonshot project', you and Loki come across a startling revelation about your lives. All your lives.

Pairing: TVA!Loki x TVA!Reader

Word Count: 3.5

Warnings: some talks of smutty times, but overall this is just fluff [let me know if i missed something!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship, talks of soulmates, references to my other stories

"I really don't get why you're in here bugging me for something to do, Y/N," Agent Mobius chuckled, shaking his head as he thumbed through another folder's worth of records that he hadn't told you quite yet what they were for. "No high-level variant threats have been reported, timelines are--well, they're relatively stable. Things are quiet for a change. I say enjoy it while it lasts and go on a vacation or something with Laufeyson. Just don't--"

"Don't cause any Nexus events, yes yes, Mobius, we know." A smile broke out on your face at the sound of Loki's voice cutting off the TVA Agent, your cheeks nearly aching from your grin widening when he walked up behind you and long arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. "Thing is we already have partaken in quite a handful of adventures across the timelines, indulging ourselves in the…numerous pleasures and luxuries that they have to offer."

One look at how you were reddening with the implications of your boyfriend's words had your fellow Agent scrunching up his face in feigned appalment. "Time and place, you two, jeez."

You and Loki shared a confused look when an analyst from another table yelled "And you did it at my birthday dinner!" and rendered Mobius into a cackling heap, laughing into his sleeve to muffle the sound.

"Anyway…" you spoke up, making the grey-haired agent look back up at you. "Are you sure there isn't anything we can help with? Doesn't even have to be high-level, I'll literally take up a timeline reset caused by a woman at a grocery store grabbing a can of peaches instead of a can of mangoes, I'm getting antsy here."

"Alright alright fine," he sighed, motioning toward you and the god behind you. "It's something of a moonshot but we've been trying to find proof of the existence of soulmates throughout the timelines, so we need concrete cases that no matter the circumstance, no matter the obstructions between two souls, they always find each other and they always end up together."

"You mean like in that TV show where they've got fairytale characters in like Maine or something and there's this couple that constantly goes--"

"I'll find you, I will always find you," you and Mobius said at once, causing you both to break out into laughter.

"Exactly like that," he confirmed when he calmed down some. "Preferably without the cheesy catchphrase because in case you do find one I would actually prefer to not include in my report that all soulmates have some line they tell each other that's so cheesy it's pungent."

"Right so…soulmates, no cheesy lines, across the timelines. Got it." You gave him a little salute before you went off to the shelves, holding Loki's hand as he followed a few steps behind you.

"Darling we have been scouring through files for hours. Perhaps it's time to report back to Mobius. Tell him that every pair we've found so far have broken the pattern at some iteration down the line. The most we've come across is a pair that were together for five iterations of their lives before the sixth showed they never even met in that lifetime."

Your shoulders slumped over when you placed your latest folder on your pile, of failed attempts, just about  half the size of Loki's own little mountain of case files. Maybe he was right; every possible lead you'd found all ended up a dud, and that alone would be proof enough that this was all a wild goose chase of an assignment for Mobius.

Then again, he did call it a moonshot, so the realization didn't smart too much.

The frustration you felt began to melt away the moment Loki's hands touched your shoulders, leaning into him when he started working at the knots that he found with expert precision. "Okay, you're right," you sighed. "Let's go tell Cubey his moonshot's a single needle in a city of haystacks."

He placed a kiss to the top of your head, using his seiðr to stack the case files into neat stacks arranged by file number. "Thank the Norns that ridiculous magic dampener fractured some when the timelines diverged," he mumbled, chuckling into your hair. "Now how about I bring us to a nice hot spring and we could simply…enjoy one another's company?" You let out a giggle when his hands traveled down your sides, lightly grasping your waist and pulling you against him.

If only you could have silenced the little voice in your head when you were just seconds away from him whisking you off to Jökulsárlón or Hakone, clad in a dark emerald bikini that your lover would peel off of you as he made good on his promise for you both to enjoy each other's company.

"I can nearly hear the thoughts forming in your mind, darling," he cooed, pressing his lips to the back of your neck, chuckling against your skin when you wordlessly confirmed what he'd said by slumping over again. "What is it?"

"Just one last try?" You wouldn't ever let yourself live it down if you'd gone down this road and not looked at this particular set of files.

He let out a sigh, his slightly cool breath tickling your skin before pressing a tender kiss to the back of your head. "One last attempt. And if we reach another dead end--"

"You can whisk me away to any destination of your choice and have your wicked way with me," you finished for him, letting out a little yelp when he brought his lips to the spot between your neck and shoulder, playfully nipping at the skin.

"What a deliciously reckless promise, my love," he teased, smirking against your neck when he proceeded to lightly suck at the sensitive skin and you had to bite your lip to muffle the whimper that slipped through your lips. "I look forward to collecting on it in a short while."

He rested his chin on your shoulder, still holding you close when you called out for a bit of assistance on your final hunch. "Minutes?"

Your eyes squinted to adjust to the sudden brightness when the orange hologram appeared on the desk in front of you. "Well hello there, lovebirds. What can I do for y'all?" she asked with a small wave of her cartoonish stick arm.

"Could you pull up our files?"

"Well sure I can, Y/N! How much of your files are we talking here?"

You shared a look with Loki before you answered, "All of them?"

"Before I hand 'em over, I think it's best y'all know from the get go that you're about to deal with thousands of files. It'll take a whole lotta time before you can sort 'em all out," she cautioned you both, already giving you a digital visual of how many files she'd already begun to pull up.

"Minutes, as I've come to understand it, we variants apparently have all the time in the world," you countered, shrugging your free shoulder and giving the living hologram a little smile. "We can take it."

"Alright well suit yourself," she comically shrugged both her hands before making the files that were already on the table disperse and go back to their original locations throughout the library shelves before stacks upon stacks of folders materialized in their place. All of them sectioned off into two sides. "Have at it, y'all."

You picked up the first folder from the stack closest to you, your brows knitting together already once you read the name on the file. "Minutes, I don't think this is mine, it says Eve but that's not--"

"Your name?" she finished for you. "Darlin', Y/N is your name in this lifetime--Well, the lifetime you came from before your Nexus event, you get what I mean. The file you're holding is from another lifetime, heck, might even be from another timeline. But one look at that file and you'll see that that's you. All of these are you. Doesn't matter if you're goin' by a different name, the soul remains the same."

The air left your lungs when you opened the folder to find a picture of you with pale skin and matted ivory hair on the front of the file. Only thing was that this version of you wasn't quite human in her lifetime. In fact centuries of it were spent as a vampire.

A few moments later she spoke up again. "Well then that's my cue. Happy sortin', y'all!" And then she disappeared. Leaving you and Loki alone with your couple thousand files each to rifle through.

Had you been there on a different objective, you would have spent a bit more time thumbing through the pages that detailed the life of this version of you, rubbing elbows with numerous prominent figures throughout history and having her fair share of trysts with a handful of them. But your only focus was her most prominent affair. Her great love.

When you reached that page, you felt yourself go breathless once again looking at the picture that stared back at you. "Loki," you breathed out, holding out the file to him so he could see for himself. The god's eyes widened at the photo in front of him. The ebony hair may be matted and the skin somehow even paler than his usual complexion, but there was no denying it. This Eve's companion throughout her years, this Adam, was another lifetime's iteration of Loki.

He began to rifle through his own stacks of folders, finding the one that had the same variant number and interlocked his and your folders together, starting a new stack at the center of the desk. "If you're right, and this yields the moonshot result that Mobius has been searching for, you can pick the destination and have your wicked way with me."

"Why Mischief, how reckless of you," you said coyly, batting your eyelashes at him. "What if I wanna tie you up?"

"It's endearing that you believe you could, my darling." He lightly poked your side, quickly pulling you into his arms the second you started wriggling and giggling in his direction. "But if that is truly what you want then I can promise not to break out for an hour."

"Two," you countered.

"Ninety minutes."

"Deal."

"Now if I'm right and this leads to another dead end, I whisk you away to any destination of my choosing for a fortnight, no tempads, no missions, and not a stitch of clothing on this glorious form of yours." His lips skimmed the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you let out a squeal at his finger deftly undoing the top button of your shirt. "Do we have a deal, my love?"

"Okay okay," you relented, turning your head to steal a quick kiss before bring your attention back to the folders you were about to sort through. Before you could pull away, his free hand went up to the back of your head and deepened the kiss.

"What if I told you I've been plagued with visions of stripping you bare and laying you out on the desk before me? That I'd been thinking of enjoying every delectable inch of you as if you were my own personal dessert board?" You let out a gasp at the lustful image his words had conjured in your mind, allowing him to easily lick into your mouth and turn you into putty in his arms the moment your tongues met.

"I'd say I'm not surprised," you breathed out when he pulled away, placing your hand over his before he could undo a third button from your shirt. "But the faster we get this done, the faster oneof us will be at the other's mercy and maybe you can even bring that desk fantasy of yours to life." You pressed another quick peck to his lips before managing to wriggle your way out of his embrace, jutting your chin at his side of the desk. "Pick a file, Mischief."

The next file had you and him initially on opposite sides of the Battle of New York, your story starting in Stuttgart when he had clones force you down on your knees and the injuries from that encounter permanently damaging you. A handful of times throughout the day of the actual battle, he went out of his way to save your life, ensuring your safety from a fatal fall and even the Hulk; the document even had a mention of him asking Thor of what came of you after he was apprehended because you weren't among the Avengers that saw him off to Asgard, only to find out the true extent of your injuries. Then he found himself back on Earth to serve his sentence and falling in love with you, using his magic to undo the physical damage that he dealt you. And then you two went on your own adventure to have 'do-overs' in places that held bitter memories for him, from Stuttgart to Asgard and even the balcony in Stark Tower.

Another file saw Loki as an English baronet named Thomas Sharpe, and you as his final wife and a sort of partner in crime. Initially you teamed up to play a dangerous game of sneaking around his ancestral home to gather and send out evidence that would put his incestuous and murderous sister Lucille behind bars, and somewhere along the way you two had genuinely fallen in love with one another.

You then found a good handful of scenarios where you both lived in the Avengers Compound, having a bad case of mutual pining and both of you being too hesitant and overcome with doubt that neither of you made a move until the situation practically forced you to confess. One even involved you photographing him for an Avengers calendar where he stripped for you during his session.

"Yeah, this definitely sounds like you," you joked when you showed him one of the pictures from the photoshoot in question where he laid on his side on a white bed wearing nothing but a pair of white boxers. When you opened the next file, you let out a whiny groan out of sheer frustration and disappointment.

"Darling, that is a sound I only wish to hear when I elicit it from you. What's wrong?"

"Might as well just lie down on the table right now because there's no way this isn't a dead end." You waved the file in your hand in the air.

"Much as I would thoroughly enjoy claiming this particular prize, perhaps we need not be so hasty, my love. Tell me what would be such a hindrance that you'd be ready to give up your theory--"

"Place of Birth: Asgard," you read out, cutting him off. "Born to Lady Sif of the Warriors Four--"

"Alright well Sif would surely have some choice words with me if I courted you but--"

"And the Crown Prince Thor, God of Thunder." You gave him a look as if to say "This is why", the realization dawning on him as well that yes, this would be the dead end that would grant him his victory. And yet for some reason, you decided to keep on turning the pages. "Gotta be honest, though, I thought that what would break our streak is if we never met in these--Oh what in the Game of Thrones Targaryen nonsense is this??"

"What is it?"

"The streak isn't broken yet," you croaked out, the disbelief entering his eyes as he frantically started searching for his corresponding variant file. "We were married for two and a half thousand years."

"I surrendered my claim to the throne of Asgard for you," he declared in astonishment. "We have children in this timeline." His voice began to hitch at the end, making you immediately close the distance between you to lace your fingers together.

"Looks like even something as monumental as being your brother's daughter couldn't stop us," you noted with a little smile, breaking out into a full grin when your comment made Loki exhaled in a rather loud chuckle that traveled across the library. You took your two folders and interlocked them, adding to the pile in the center. "Let's keep going."

It was several hours later that you two had finally found your way back to the desk that Mobius occupied, the more tenured agent pinching the bridge of his nose and rubbing at the inner corners of his eyes in clear frustration.

"You still got nothing, Cubey?"

"One of these days I'm gonna find a name for you that's just as annoying, Y/L/N, just you wait," he groaned, his posture visibly slumping when he saw the interlocked stacks of folders that you were carting around. "What in the name of the Alioth is that?"

"We found one," you proudly stated. "Proof that soulmates exist and…only some of them have a catchphrase."

"That's just one?!" he boomed, immediately getting shh'd by a more elderly analyst a few tables behind him to which you and Loki shh'd her right back without missing a beat. You nodded your answer to Mobius. "So what's the catchphrase?"

"I was made to be yours," you began, letting go of the cart to hold your hand out to Loki.

"And I yours," he finished, lacing your fingers together before draping his arm over your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

"Wait a damn minute," Mobius said suspiciously, pointing a finger between the two of you. "Are you two trying to tell me that the first and so far only case of soulmates we have on record is--"

"Us," you finished for him, nudging the cart in his direction with your foot. "Every single lifetime on every single timeline accounted for."

"What about your own?" he questioned. "You both mentioned that you'd never met your timeline's version of each other prior to your Nexus events."

"Well see that's the thing. These files only cover everything prior to a variant's Nexus event, or what the events were in their own respective sacred timelines. We met each other after our Nexus events. So maybe our souls never found each other in the lives that we left behind because…we were meant to find each other here."

"Huh…" he mused, looking carefully at the two of you. "Could be. Nice catch, you two. I knew I made a good call giving you a partner, Loki."

"My darling mortal is quite brilliant," your lover beamed, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I believe I owe you a debt of gratitude for our introduction."

"Well, you really don't have to but if you feel so compelled, I'm willing to take a jet ski and a vacation to Miami if you two can swing it."

"We'll call you if anything serious pops up, just keep your tempad charged," you shot back, extending your free hand toward him to shake. "But really, Cubey. Thank you. For introducing us. For vouching for me and making sure that I didn't get pruned during my trial with Rennslayer--"

"Otherwise you might have crossed paths with that one-handed variant in the Void and who knows what nefarious and depraved intentions he would have had with you," Loki interjected, resting his head on yours.

"You have a Captain Hook variant?"

"Nah it was a president," Mobius answered with a wave of his hand. "Got his hand bit off by an alligator."

"So…a Captain Hook variant."

"Yeah, you know what you're right. Loki has a Captain Hook variant. You'll meet him soon enough when you get sent on a mission to the Void. Loads of highly dangerous variants usually find themselves there when they try to escape processing."

"If he even dares touch you I'll divest him of his remaining hand," Loki grumbled, once again pressing his lips to your temple. "That heathen can find his own variant of you. You're mine."

"All yours," you beamed, bringing your joint hands to your lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "And speaking of…we're off for a few weeks, Cubey. We have a date to get to."

"Please don't get arrested for indecent exposure. Or public fornication," the senior agent groaned. "That's a timeline I'll need therapy for if I have to be the sorry ass to reset it."

Neither of you responded other than a little wave and a thumbs up in his direction as you walked away, the god giving you a dimpled smirk as you two made your way to your shared apartment.

"Where shall we head to first, little mortal? A hot spring? Or perhaps a nice scenic tundra? Or perhaps a cherry blossom forest? I can already picture your beauty with the backdrop of the falling petals…"

He stopped listing options when he saw you shaking your head, mirroring his smirk with one of your own. "Bedroom first. And give me your tie. You owe me ninety minutes."

A/N: I'm so glad to finally get this out for y'all to see! This was originally supposed to up weeks ago for something but some of my own revelations were made (translation: I got bitch slapped in the face by reality) which led to the postponing of this story. Anyways, I hope y'all liked it even if it is kinda cringe and silly. I'm always gonna be cringe and silly, so manage expectations accordingly. 🥴🫡

Also if you got all the references within the files (except the OLLA one that's a freebie) I officially love you. 💖💛

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

[buckevantommy]

canon divergence fic from 3x16 where chim is moved by buck to touch base with his old pal tommy for a drink and a catch up this time instead of a favor. couple weeks later chim mentions he's catching up with tommy again, and buck is like, "wait, who's tommy?" and chim explains he's an old 118 friend, one of his first friends on the job - after eli and before hen - and he left to join the 217. anyway buck rocks up to the bar later having forgotten about chim's friend date; he's had a crappy day and doesn't wanna bring down the vibe but chim insists he join them so he does.

so s3!buck meets tommy. the buck who hasn't had any luck in love since he watched abby leave and who had a rough time with the whole red situation. buck or chim introduces him as evan buckley so tommy calls him evan and buck doesn't think to correct him.

chim explains roughly about buck having a hard time in love and tommy sympathises, saying his last relationship didn't work out and the one before that couldn't handle his job, throwing in a male pronoun and casting an eye chim's way to gague his reaction. chim takes it in stride, only needing a second to orient. "well, that's his loss." and then buck is commiserating with tommy about finding someone you like but who can't handle the job - iterating that the job is his life, but since red? he wants more. he just doesn't know if he'll find it. and maybe tommy hasn't been looking for relationship material for a couple of years after those bad breakups, choosing instead to just enjoy himself as much as possible and avoid heartbreak - and buck knows what that's like he's been there, and chim offers up a few tales of buck 1.0 including theft of a fire engine for a hookup which has tommy laughing in disbelief.

all this to say: s3!buck meets tommy and they strike up a friendship that eventually serves as catalyst for buck's bi awakening. i'll take every alternate meeting of these two in canon i can get, but i just finished s3 so this is where my head is at rn. i just like the idea of chim reconnecting with tommy a lot sooner, and tommy getting to reconnect and know the rest of the 118 sooner. i also like the idea of getting to know this tommy who is somewhere between his 118 years and season 7; i don't think he'd be the same guy we meet in s7, i mean he's comfortable in his sexuality but maybe he's a little less settled than later seasons tommy.

[felassan]

Game Informer:

"BioWare On Returning To The Dragon Age Series, 10 Years After Inquisition by Wesley LeBlanc on Jul 17, 2024 at 02:00 PM With 10 years between 2014's Dragon Age: Inquisition, the most recent release in the series, and the upcoming Dragon Age: The Veilguard, the latter has much riding on it. It's both a follow-up to a beloved game from a decade ago in one of BioWare’s most beloved series, and it's the first BioWare game since the launch of 2019's Anthem, a live-service multiplayer effort EA sunset less than two years later. Curious about the pressure surrounding the release of Veilguard, I spoke to BioWare about lessons learned from following up on Inquisition and what it's been like returning to this series so many years later."

"We start out in pre-production," BioWare general manager Gary McKay tells me when I ask about BioWare's guiding principle for developing Veilguard. "We spent a lot of time iterating, experimenting, and innovating on different things. At one point, it was multiplayer – we did a hard look at multiplayer, but we felt we really couldn't return to our roots. And when we asked ourselves, 'What is the game that we want to develop,' we really wanted to get back to our roots, which is amazing storytelling. It's about those unforgettable characters. And it's about having the opportunity to influence the world.  "And we really felt multiplayer wouldn't do that. But single-player RPG is really where we wanted to spend our time, so after spending that time in pre-production, really honing in on what the vision of this game is, and [being] afforded the opportunity to deliver on the creative promise of this game, [now] we're really excited about what's coming out." McKay says Veilguard blends seasoned veterans with new voices and perspectives, and "that's really important for this game." For example, people like former Dragon Age producer Mark Darrah, who left the studio in 2021 but is now consulting for Veilguard, and creative director John Epler together have decades of experience at BioWare. They work with people like game director Corinne Busche, who joined BioWare shortly after the launch of Anthem (but brings in a love of Dragon Age from the series' 2009 start), every day to develop the game we'll be playing this fall."

""[You] want to have different perspectives, different backgrounds," McKay says. "If you bring a bunch of people together that have only known one thing, that's not where you see creativity. That's not where innovation comes from. Innovation comes when you have [...] that past history and blend it with some new voices and perspectives.""

"Darrah has been attached to BioWare in some capacity since its early Baldur's Gate days, and when I ask him about the studio's progression from that series to the next Dragon Age, he says it's been amazing. "The thing that is so amazing about Veilguard is this is the game where we finally said out loud that BioWare's greatest strength is telling stories through characters. If you go all the way back to Baldur's Gate 1, Baldur's Gate 2, these games are telling stories through characters, but there wasn't an intentionality behind that. And in this game, we're finally putting that intentionality first and foremost, putting the characters first, building the game around that, around those character moments, which is really the best way that BioWare knows how to tell stories."  I ask Darrah if there's anything Veilguard is doing that BioWare wanted to do on previous games but couldn't, and he says, "Storytelling through animation." In previous games, each character moves in "exactly the same way," and everyone is homogenous in that way, he says. "If you put on a suit of armor, and you put it on Alistair, you looked exactly the same standing right beside each other. "Now, we're able to keep the character coming through in the visuals and the motion, even as you're customizing them, which just wasn't possible in the past."  He also mentions BioWare's confidence in its game development engine for Veilguard, which, like Inquisition, uses EA's proprietary Frostbite. "Dragon Age: Origins and Dragon Age II were doing what they could with the technology they had; Dragon Age: Inquisition did a good job of using Frostbite respective of the engine," Darrah says. "But with this game, there's a better understanding of the engines over a lot more time, but also, the technology of the hardware that the game is going to be played on moving forward [is] able to do a lot more stuff [and] execute it visually to a degree that just wasn't possible in the past." On Inquisition [link to embedded video of old GI coverage on DA:I in the DA:I days - I think it was a shortened version of this one]"

"With 10 years between Inquisition and Veilguard, BioWare has to balance satisfying longtime fans of the series with newcomers jumping in for the first time. Epler says the studio worked hard to ensure Veilguard is respectful and referential to previous games without feeling like you need to have played Inquisition, Dragon Age II, or Origins to fully understand what's going on.  "So while there are references, there are moments that we have callbacks, it really is its own story, its own continuation with a different cast, with different characters," he says. "Historically, Dragon Age has always had a different cast per game, so that gives us a lot of freedom in terms of what we want to lean on in the past and what we want to really bring in that’s new and forward-facing."  Darrah adds that Veilgaurd's events play out with a storytelling goal for the future of the series. "This is a game which takes the ball that Inquisition had, puts its own spin on it, has its own characters, takes its own direction, but continues the path forward into the future," he says.  "Dragon Age has always been about change. Every game has had a new protagonist, and it's been exploring its own space all the time, and this game is no different. [Veilguard] does a good job of bridging that gap. The really super fans of Dragon Age have actually made a lot of really educated guesses, and some of them are pretty right about where the franchise is going. The thing we need to make sure is that people who may have only played Inquisition are understanding what the franchise is really about – it's about a new protagonist, it's about change, it's about evolution – and don't come in expecting a direct sequel to a game they played and then are disappointed. This game is something new, something that evolves, something that is greater than what came before, the same as each game [...] before it." 

"For Busche, balancing newcomers and fan expectations in Veilguard is about managing assumptions. She says Veilguard takes place in a part of Thedas BioWare has only hinted at. The team has hinted at the Grey Warden fortress of Weisshaupt, the depths of Arlathan Forest, the Rivain Coast, the Grand Necropolis of Nevarra, and Minrathous, but now players will finally go to these stories' locations.  "We have a rich history of world-building within the IP, so existing players will be familiar with these places and very excited to go to them and explore their mysteries," Busche tells me. "But for our new players, we're not assuming you know anything about these locations. I would say that also extends to the characters; we've taken great care in how we introduce each and every single companion and major story figure within the game [with that in mind]."" "Epler tells me that Veilguard differs from Inquisition and other Dragon Age games in the way that Rook, the player character, can't save the world without the characters they meet on their journey.  "Dragon Age has always been about characters but to some degree, it's almost felt like we've lucked into that," he says. "Inquisition is a story that ultimately, you, the main character [...] have the biggest part to play. We wanted to tell a story this time where you literally cannot save the world without these characters. Beyond that, though, we also wanted to give them their own arcs that can run parallel to the main story and really give them that kind of deep storytelling our fans really enjoy."  Though he's biased for obvious reasons, Epler says Veilguard is his favorite Dragon Age game he's worked on (and he's worked on all of them, starting as a quality assurance tester on Origins). He says one reason for this is the storytelling in the characters, companions, and relationships."

"They have their friendships, they have their rivalries, and lean into that concept," he tells me. "You're not just pulling together a bunch of people who will do whatever you say. You're assembling a family, and that becomes the core of what the Veilguard is all about. It's about taking this group, this found family, and saving the world, side by side with them." For more about the game, including exclusive details, interviews, video features, and more, click the Dragon Age: The Veilguard hub button below."

[source]

[therhythmafterthesummer]

The King of the Forest (M) ~Bang Chan

Pairing: WerewolfKing!Chan x HumanPrincess!Reader Themes: Supernatural/Fantasy AU | Smut | Mild Angst | Royalty | Mediaeval Setting Word Count: ~3k | AO3 Synopsis: As a Princess, all you’d ever been deemed good for was doing what you were told and keeping to your role, something that frustrated you beyond belief. It wasn’t until you met that young wolf in the forest that you finally realised there was more out there for you. [You can find a follow-up story here]. Warnings: reader is implied to be chubby/curvy (of course, when is it not atp) · descriptive attributes of the reader are used. such as: exact age & having long hair · themes of misogyny · themes of motherhood/pregnancy · possessiveness · pet names · graphic depictions of intercourse (smut warnings under the cut).

Author’s Note: shout out to 🐧 anon for suggesting the idea of WerewolfKing!Chan x Princess!Reader in these two asks. at this point i’m convinced i’ll end up going through every possible iteration of werewolf!chan i can lol. it probably won’t go in the direction it was expected, but i hope some of you get to enjoy it regardless~ special thanks to @cursed-mars-bars & @straylightdream for beta-reading this.

Due to all the abovementioned warnings, this story is intended for an adult audience only. Minors please do not interact.

Smut Warnings: mentions and depictions of loss of ‘virginity’ · praising (duh) · oral (F.Rec) · unprotected penetration [piv] · probably body worship · marking · breeding · public sex? · cum eating (probably not in the way you expect)

Disclaimer: the story represented in this work does not represent Stray Kids in any way; anything described in this story and all actions performed by the characters are purely fictional, this was created just for good fun.

This was wrong. It was so, so wrong. At least, to the standards of some. 

As a princess, you’d been taught that all you’d ever be good for was marrying you off to a powerful family, to be used as an offering for political convenience and alliances, with no regard for your own wants and needs. That was, of course, as long as you maintained your virtue. Or what your mother referred to as ‘virtue’.

‘No man wants to own an already used glove’, you heard the Crown Prince say once, which sounded just so ridiculous to you. Not only because women were most certainly not pieces of clothing, but also because your dearest older brother had probably laid with dozens of men and women without being married himself.

Hypocrites, all of them. 

“Your–Your Majesty…” You gasped. You could feel blood rush to your head under the devious tongue of the man between your legs. Although, you weren’t sure if man was the right word to use to describe him.

He hummed, effectively sending delicious vibrations through your body that made you whine.

“I told you, pup…” He detached himself from your centre enough to speak, temporarily replacing his mouth with his fingers to rub slow circles on that bundle of nerves between yours legs. “When we’re here, just the two of us, I want you to use my name. Hm?” 

Swallowing the saliva that had collected in your mouth, you nodded.

“Say it, Your Highness. Say it with your whole chest. Relish the fact that only you get to do so”.

The movement of his fingers on your clit had your head spinning, but you needed to comply–you wanted to comply–so, after taking a deep breath, you did. “C–Chris”.

A smile formed on his lips, but it wasn’t smug, nor belittling. It was a genuine smile, one of those that always made him look his age, as if he hadn’t experienced any form of cruelty in his life, a smile that made your heart flutter in your chest. “Again”. 

“Chris…” You could barely hold eye contact anymore, it was hard to do so when your brain was trying to send you into fight or flight whenever you looked into his eyes–a feeling that completely clashed with the one building in the pit of your stomach due to Chris’ movements between your legs.

“That’s it, pup. So good for me”, you felt yourself flush, not only at his praise, but also because he returned his mouth to your centre to lightly suck on your clit.

If your father knew you were here, laying on the ground, in the middle of the forest, with the Wolf King himself feasting on your cunt, he’d surely send you to a convent to repent. Not only for ‘losing your virtue’, but also for ‘losing your morals’ by giving yourself to what he believed to be a barbaric beast.

You didn’t care, though. You never did.

Your father didn’t know Chris. He didn’t know anything that wasn’t what he’d been taught by those before him, he’d never even bothered to question it. He didn’t know that, in reality, the man you had wholly–willingly–given yourself to, was heaps more civilised than he would ever be.

“Oh…” You brought a hand to Chris’ head to bury your fingers in his hair, shivering not only at the feeling of his plush lips and his wet tongue on your clit, but also at the silky feeling of his dark strands between your fingers. You needed to hold onto something, something that could keep yourself attached to reality while he quickened the pace of his tongue.

In retrospect, you figured it was only a matter of time before you ended up here with Chris. You’d known him since you were a child. The first time you saw him he was but a young pup, a fluffy canine that had found you sitting on the ground, with your back against a tree, sobbing in the middle of the forest after you’d had an argument with your mother.

You didn’t know what he was back then, you thought he was just a regular, maybe overly friendly and domesticated wolf, but after a couple of times of seeing him in the forest, he finally revealed himself to you. You would’ve honestly never expected for an animal to shift into a boy, much less a boy like Chris.

He was so…regal.

As soon as your eyes met when he was in his human form you could immediately tell he wasn’t just some boy–not only because of the obvious furry situation, but also because of the way he carried himself, because of the way he articulated his thoughts.

After a couple of times meeting as just a boy and a girl in the forest, you got to truly learn who he was. The Prince of the Forest, he’d said. His mother led the biggest clan of lycanthropes in the vast forest, a realm that would be his in due time.

Meeting Chris had changed your view on the forest, on what your people said of this place. You’d been taught it was filled with beasts that ate people, that killed people, that deceived people… But when you met Chris, a simple boy who just so happened to also be a wolf, a boy who kept you company and understood you and respected you as an equal, you realised your father and your mother and everyone around you were all just full of shit.

It was fascinating, really. Learning the hierarchical structures of the forest as an outsider… Especially when Chris clearly trusted you enough to confide in you. Which was why, in a cruel turn of fate, by the time you were sixteen, you could no longer go to the forest to meet him.

Your father had noticed you were frequently missing, and one day, while you walked the familiar paths to your usual meeting spot, you noticed someone following you. Thankfully, it all happened before you met Chris that day, but, regretfully, it also meant that you never got to say goodbye.

You often found yourself thinking about Chris after that. Not all day, but almost every day you did. At least once… When you saw your father’s hunting dogs, when you ate something you liked, and even when you started to bloom into adulthood and your dreams bled into images of greens and the feel of smooth skin and warm lips on your own.

For your twenty-fourth birthday, your father had kindly gifted you a betrothed, probably the complete opposite of anything you could’ve possibly wanted. ‘You’re getting too old, my dear. Your younger sister already has two children of her own. It’s time you finally fulfil your duty, aren’t you happy?’

You were not happy, to say the least. You were furious. You’d managed to avoid any arrangements for years, always got the other party to call off the engagement first, but this time it wasn’t working in your favour, they’d have you marry soon after you turned twenty-five. Which was why you found yourself back in the forest. Trying to escape the sombre future ahead of you.

That was how you found Chris again, that was how Chris found you again. After almost ten years. Sobbing on the forest floor with your back against a tree and your head pressed to your knees.

You honestly hadn’t expected to see him again. There was, of course, a small light of hope in you that wished you would, but you never entertained it, it just hurt way too much if you did. However, what you also hadn’t expected, was the hurt look in his eyes, nor the tremble in his voice when he asked you ‘Why did you never come back?’

So, with a tremble of your own in your voice, you told him the chain of events that led to your disappearance. ‘I just didn’t want them to find you, Your Highness. It would’ve gotten both of us in danger’.

You could still remember how Chris cradled your face in his hands that night, rubbing away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks with his thumbs, just as he muttered a very quiet, and very soft ‘Your Majesty…’ 

The confusion must’ve been clear on your face, because he chuckled, offering a ‘It’s Your Majesty now, Your Highness. I’m King now. A lot has happened since we last met. I can tell you all of it, if you wish to hear it, but with one condition… Right here, between us, I’m just Chris, and you’re just you. Just like before…’

Just like before, he’d said… But before you’d never been that physically close to each other. Before, you’d never kissed like you needed each other to breathe. That wasn’t what you did before, but somehow it felt just so incredibly natural, almost as if you’d spent a lifetime doing so.

You did talk a lot that night in the forest, both of you. Chris told you the events that led to his coronation, about the war amongst clans that took his mother’s life as well as many others. A war that, despite the many costs, he managed to win. Just like you told him stories of your own–much less interesting stories than his, to be honest. 

You, also, lost your ‘virtue’ that very same night. You really hadn’t planned it to be that way, it just sort of happened, and you weren’t sure if it was the moonlight shining on you both, or if it was the longing accumulated during those almost ten years spent apart, but, at that moment, there was nothing more that you wanted than to feel Chris’ body against yours.

Any time his lips attached to your skin sparks of pleasure and love ignited within the deepest areas in your heart. It didn’t matter if it was on your lips, your cheeks, your chest, your tummy, your thighs, or between your legs… His kisses steadily kindled the burning flame in the pit of your stomach, making it burn bright just for him.

The pleasure you’d provided to yourself all these years had been nothing compared to how you felt with Chris. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that it was someone else that was stimulating those sacred areas of your body that no one else had ever touched, if it was the fact that you’d been in love with him practically since the day you met him in the forest over thirteen years ago, or if it was the combination of it all that had stars clouding your vision and your heart growing ten sizes in your chest… 

Regardless, you knew this would be a feeling that no one else would be able to replicate, and if there was ever someone capable of it you just didn’t want them. You wanted no one else but Chris.

It wasn’t until he’d finally soiled your tummy with his release, when he had carefully cleaned it off of you and you laid in his arms that you finally told him of your engagement. Maybe it was a bit cruel, you’d admit. To drop such a bomb on him in one of his most vulnerable moments. His eyes clouded with a dangerous mix of pain and sadness and anger.

So much of it all you did get scared for a second. Until he cradled your face in his hands and very confidently said ‘Marry me’.

You were at a loss, suddenly feeling incredibly inadequate to marry a King, even more the Wolf King of the forest. You didn’t know enough of his people, you didn’t know if they’d accept you, if you’d be fit to cater to their needs. All concerns which you voiced to Chris. He’d reassured you that his people were very different from yours, more accepting, and that you were already more than capable of leading, that he’d never wanted anyone else by his side that wasn’t you.

Over the course of a year, you got close and personal with Chris’ kind. It was honestly almost insane, maddening, how these people that shifted into beasts had shown you more kindness than your own kin. It baffled you, knowing how much pain you had endured over nothing throughout your short life when you saw just how much more socially advanced they were. Although you shouldn’t have been surprised, not when these were the people from which the man you fell madly in love with was born.

So here you were, a few days after your twenty-fifth birthday, gone without leaving a trace, just a month before your marriage to Duke WhateverHisNameWas, laying on the forest floor with only a thick coat to protect your back, and a completely different man than the one you were supposed to marry between your legs–but, admittedly, the only man you’d ever wanted.

“Chris, I’m…” You could hardly speak. Tears were collecting in your eyes, you could feel your lower belly tightening further with Chris’ diligent licks and gentle sucks, with the tight grip of his hand on your soft lower belly, and the delicious drag of his four digits inside your walls hitting your most sensitive spots.

Chris hummed in response, picking up his movements, bringing you closer to that satisfying climax you were so desperate for.

Quiet moans spilled freely from your lips once that blinding pleasure consumed you whole. Your thighs trembled, your grip on his hair tightened, and you simply let the feeling overtake every single one of your senses.

When Chris finally detached himself from your sensitive warmth, your body slumped. You were gasping for air a bit, with your eyes barely open, just enough so you could catch a glimpse of the satisfied smile on your lover’s lips before he came back up to connect his mouth with yours.

You sighed, content, looping your arms around his neck as you savoured the unmistakable taste of your pleasure still lingering on his lips.

“Are you sure about this, pup?” Chris asked when he finally pulled back. 

How considerate of him to worry about this now.

“I am. I don’t want to be anyone else’s. Just yours. Only yours”, you replied confidently, because if there was something you believed in right now was just how irrevocably his you were.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt his warmth between your legs, as you felt the tip of his length drag along your folds and spread the remnants of your release all over you both. Chris looked deeply into your eyes, looking at you like you mattered, like you were someone truly important, someone he cared for.

“No one else’s”, he repeated, just as he leaned in to connect his mouth to yours again, as he finally started to push himself into you.

You whimpered at the feeling. Not only because of the undeniable stretch, but also for what it represented. What it had always represented.

Chris hushed you softly, attaching his lips to your cheeks so he could press soothing kisses on your soft skin. He took his time, slowly giving you every centimetre of him he had to offer, until he was fully sheathed within your heat. It didn’t matter if you’d done this before, if you’d taken him more times than you could count, having him fully inside was always difficult for the first few minutes, but you never complained, not when you knew just how incredibly good it would soon feel. 

“Can’t promise you I can remain this gentle, pup”, he mumbled against your cheek, just like he often did. He was capable of gentleness, but he was also capable of being incredibly unforgiving, so he always tried to give you a heads up–not like you didn’t know this already. Pressing one more kiss on your cheek for good measure, he pulled back to look you in the eyes. “I’m using every single drop of willpower to not let the beast consume me… But, fuck, you’re just so warm…”

You cradled his face in your hands, dragging your thumbs over his skin, unable to keep your eyes from shifting focus between his eyes, his nose, his lips, the tiny, barely perceptible freckles that littered his cheeks… “It’s okay, my love. Let it consume you if you must. I’m his, too, after all”.

Ever so slowly, Chris finally moved, starting a rhythm, letting you adjust to the movement of his thickness within your walls. With a hand buried in the hair on the back of his head and the other spread palm flat on his warm chest, right over his racing heart, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The movement shifted the angle of your hips, and moans fell from both of your mouths at just how deep inside of you he could reach like this. 

“That feels… Fuck…” He increased the tempo of his hips, eliciting desperate whines and moans from your mouth once he started to fully ram into you. You could feel your breasts bounce with every harsh thrust of his hips, but even if to an outsider it might’ve seemed like he was pushing your limits, this was one of the tamest versions of himself, one that balanced his human needs along with his animal ones fairly well, one you were more than acclimated to.

“Good…” You finished the sentence he’d started, throwing your head back when his cock hit your sweet spot, effectively sending jolts of pleasure up and down your spine. “Fuck… There. Right there, love”. 

“Mmm… Here?” With precise thrusts, he repeatedly stimulated those utmost sensitive areas inside your walls, making you lose your train of thought and leaving you no other option but to desperately nod to answer his question.

With a hand next to your head and the other holding on tightly to your hip, Chris kept his steady pace. The nacre moon charm that always hung from the chain around his neck continuously dragged against your chest with every thrust of his hips, the quiet tinkling it produced barely audible among the cacophony of blissed-out sounds he was coaxing out of you, and the ones you were coaxing out of him.

Chris buried himself deep inside you time and time again, until you lost track of time, gradually speeding his movements, increasing the strength in which his hips hit your soft skin.

“Close… So, so close…” He mumbled eventually, and you shivered in anticipation. 

He lowered himself on his elbows, getting close enough to start leaving sloppy, open mouthed kisses on your neck. 

“Do it, Chris”, you whispered in his ear, panting a bit, pressing one of your hands on his lower back. “Mark me, my King”.

Chris groaned, and before you knew it, he was sinking his teeth on the junction of your neck and your shoulder. The sting of his bite quickly shifted into a feeling of unadulterated ecstasy, a feeling of euphoria that spread all throughout your body, dragging searing heat in its wake.

A low, animalistic growl resonated from your lover once he reached his own climax and started to pump you full of him, of everything he had to give. You barely even registered it, too consumed by the pleasure still coursing through your body, by the feeling of his canines still attached to your skin and his unfaltering thrusts.

After a minute, with a grunt, he pushed his hips flush against yours, burying himself as deep as he could inside of you, and his movements finally stopped. His tongue soothed the fresh bite he’d left on your skin, and you shuddered a bit.

His mouth was once again on yours, kissing you deeply, just like he had always been meant to do.

When he pulled back from the kiss, Chris looked you in the eyes, softly caressing your cheek with his knuckles. “You’re all mine now, pup. Mine to keep, to love, to breed. Only mine”. 

“Always have been”, you replied simply, regarding him with a small smile on your lips. 

Chris chuckled, and he leaned down to press a brief kiss on your lips. 

He finally pulled himself away from you entirely, bringing his hands to your inner thighs so he could keep you fully spread open for him. With his eyes so focused on your centre, you suddenly felt heat creep on your cheeks–a bit of an absurd reaction, considering he’d seen your modesty innumerable times, although never after stuffing you full of his seed. That was a first.

Chris dived in again, and you trembled as you felt his warm, wet tongue lapping up your sensitive folds, gently cleaning you up.

When he was done, he straightened himself, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smiling brightly at you. 

You brought your hands to your soft lower belly, just as a bashful smile settled on your lips. “You really think I could…”

You let your question trail off, and Chris chuckled as he brought his hands to your sides. Slowly, he dragged them down to your hips, where he squeezed the plump swell of them. “When I saw you again after all these years, when I saw these hips of yours, I knew you’d be just perfect to carry my pups, love”.

“We might have to give it a few tries, though”, you extended your hand, and Chris immediately took it and helped you sit down. The coat he’d placed on the ground before he laid you on it was soft against your bare skin, and you couldn’t help but appreciate his thoughtfulness.

“Then we’ll try as many times as necessary”, Chris sat with his back against a tree, and pulled you to sit on his lap.

Resting your arms on his broad shoulders, you leaned in for a kiss, and as soon as your mouths touched, he let out a satisfied hum.

“My father is a goddamn fool for thinking he could marry me off to some guy”, you said as soon as you pulled back, burying your fingers in his hair and gently dragging them over Chris’ scalp, making him chuckle. 

He pushed your now undone hair off of your shoulder, exposing the mark he’d left so he could softly trace it with this thumb. The area was incredibly sensitive, and his tender touch made you shiver. “Doesn’t matter now. The second anyone so much as tries to take you away from me will be the moment they draw their last breath. You’re already my Queen, my love. All mine”. 

You leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his lips. Pulling back just a bit, with your mouths barely a hair’s width apart, your lips brushed against his with every whispered word that came out of your mouth. “Yours, my King”.

Maybe if your father had taken you seriously for one second in his life, you wouldn’t have ended up here, married to the King of the forest. But as Chris held you in his arms, and as he eventually helped you re-dress so he could take you to what would now be your forever home, you figured it was best not to dwell on hypotheticals, not when you finally felt this incredibly cared for and so incredibly full of love.

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