#but this mental image is way too fucking funny for me to pass by

[chitinleg]

do you ever make a drawing that frustrates you so badly that even before you finish it you're like "that's it! no more art for the rest of the day! i need to recover from this truly mindnumbing defeat before i start asking myself berating questions like 'why didn't you go into plumbing so your curséd hands could at least bring something of use into the world'"

totally and entirely unrelatedly: here's the pastel drawing of garak that preceded the acrylic gouache painting

its. well its not good at all, and since i'm no longer in Art Hell Brain mindset, this is no longer painful to admit but instead really really funny

(some of my dear + beloved friends have even been so kind as to tell me he has a kind of "charming in his own harrowed way" or that he looks like a humble ego death demon, or that he's like garak if he had a disco elysium portrait intro. hehehe)

and i do love this drawing now, and he genuinely makes me laugh!! but i cannot stress enough that at the time of creation this fucking gaze had a comically ridiculous vice grip on my ego and sense of self

anyway here the pieces are, beside each other, as they exist on the paper, for the full effect of the extremely silly ego killing failure art vs the artist's intended image, created once i rallied myself and tried a different method of approach

rocks and shoals

[unacknowledgeable]

Continued: Serial killer reader x yan!batfam

.........Ooooookay, I guess yall really liked my serial killer!reader? I guess I'm honor bound to continue??? Oh noooo, the horrorrrr. But seriously, I'm glad! Because it only gets worse from here! >:}

Anyway, this was really difficult to write because I literally could not find good starting and stopping points, I tried to make my thoughts flow into each other as seamlessly as possible but there's SO MUCH I wanna write for this, it’s eating me alive, (also like, feel free to send asks bc I get sidetracked a lot in my writing and looove just answering questions as jumping off points, so please gimme gimme)

That being said, enjoy!

WARNING for disturbing imagery, untreated mental illness and trauma, blood, and depictions of murder (seriously)

So obviously, this M/c is a serial killer, so how do they go about keeping this hidden while simultaneously living with the world's greatest detectives?

Simple, ya don't.

Okay so that's not completely true. Compared to the average criminal, you put in a lot of effort to not get caught, but the average criminal doesn’t live with THE Batman either

Compared to the rest of your family though? You basically put in the bare minimum required to hide your… unsavory activities

Of course, you'll wash your blood soaked clothes yourself, in the lesser used washrooms of the manor, but once in a blue moon, when you’re too tired to care or your catch of the night put up a greater fight then anticipated, you'll throw your tainted clothes in with the rest of the families

And they just… don't fucking notice.

Or when they do, they just assume that one of the others had an unfortunate run in with some criminal while in civvies 

You've overheard many admonishments from Dick or Alfred over the years, telling Tim or Jason to “Please stop putting bloody clothes in with the whites, there's a basket for them two feet away!”

It was always pretty hard trying to keep a straight face when hearing those scoldings, but you always did, you didn't want Damian demanding to know what was so funny and dampening your mood

Or Cass giving you one of her calculated looks and suddenly getting nosy, that would make losing your clothes to Tim’s closet a lot less worth the laugh.

It’s just that, this assumption is waaaaay more plausible then say, the serial killer they've been tracking relentlessly for literal years, is just…tossing their VERY incriminating evidence in with the family's laundry, then passing out on some couch in one of the many sitting rooms of the manor, while the family goes out and discovers their latest victim

It's just easier to assume it was one of the others, Dick would never connect you, of all people, to the gore tossed haphazardly in the hamper, it's way more likely to be one of the many crime fighters of the family, not the soft spoken hermit of the manor, and even if that was a possibility in his mind, you don't even have a scratch on you

Not that he’s ever bothered to check you for injuries before, like he does almost religiously for the others

And Alfred? Well he's of the belief you'd grown out of your… tendencies, that it was a one time thing. Despite his reputation as an omnipotent presence in the manor, he never did realize just how deep your mental issues ran. Not until it was far too late.

You don't even have a specific weapon either, half of the time you'll just take one of Alfred's steak knives and hit the lower levels of Gotham, wandering around the decrepit streets till you found someone suitable 

Other times, when you’re in an exceptionally bad mood, be it because Damian said something particularly venomous or Alfred missing an important event for you because something came up with one of your siblings, or even when your classmates decided it would be funny to key your car-

Or it's just one of those days

Those days when the abstract voices simmer louder in the back of your mind, pushing and nagging. Images that you desperately want to forget but can't help the need to recreate. All threatening to boil over until you either crumble into a sobbing heep on the floor or go out and do the one thing that has always been able to shut. them. up.

Those days you’re… forgetful

On those days, you forget to grab one of Alfred’s pristine knives, but that's fine, Gothams streets are littered with dangerous items, so there's no shortage of tools at your disposal. You're creative, resourceful, you can use whatever's on hand at the time, whatever's in reach.

But if there's nothing? No sharp objects, no discarded bricks or loose pipes or even a half empty beer bottle, well… you're no stranger getting your hands dirty

Those times however, are pretty hazy in the aftermath.

You’ll forget certain details, like how they gripped your arms in a vain attempt to draw your own blood as you drew theirs, in the event that if they dont get away, at least you'd be caught, (all it leaves are dark, tender bruises along your arms, that you'll spend weeks poking and prodding at, in the hopes of reliving that moment)

Or how they'd flail their legs, inches from the ground, trying to kick your legs out from beneath you (it was kinda cute, how much shorter they were then you, how little their attempts to free themselves did when it mattered the most)

Even their last, warbling pleas for mercy were lost to you. You know they said something, could vaguely recall that they spoke, too absorbed in watching their bloody lips turn blue as the oxygen in their body slowly ran out (No no please please…My girls are waiting)

No, no you don't remember much but what you do remember, what you always, always remember, are the eyes 

You remember the tears, the fear, the acceptance, the rage, the refusal, the disbelief, the confusion, the indignation, and most of all the recognition. 

Whether it be them recognizing just who you are or realizing that this is who will end their life, you don't know, you’ve never bothered to ask. 

You prefer to think it’s the latter, it's hard to explain, but it makes you feel so so important

When it’s over, and the adrenaline in your veins soften, your breathing calmer, the blood rushing through your ears no longer so deafening, and you can feel the pleasing ache in your limbs, you sit, and asses the damage, as you always do

You always make sure to grab their wallet, take out the ID and memorize it, before gingerly putting it back, and finally walking away, head clear and numb in the cold Gotham air

There's no real reason why, its mostly force of habit at this point, it started with your very first kill, you don't feel like breaking the little ritual now, or anytime soon

It just feels wrong, to take a life and not even know whose life it is...was.

Later, long past any reasonable hour, you lay in bed, fresh out of the shower and thumbing the bruises, listening to the voices over the family's communicators (you stole one of Dicks, he has a nasty habit of leaving them around the manor) as they patrol the Gotham streets for crime and mayhem

You honestly can't help the small smile that graces your face, falling into sleep, as you hear the quiet, defeated sigh over the highly protected com link, “B, I've found another one, it's…it’s pretty rough tonight”

The pause is long before a small, gruff, “I have your location, ETA in 10 minutes”

You slept pretty good that night

Damn, sometimes the shit I come up with scares even me, again, feel free to send asks (shh I'm not begging), the brain worms are always hungry and I have sooooo many thoughts about this thing. lol 

Hope you enjoyed!

[weebsinstash]

Now don't get me wrong, I like how... calm and unbothered Alastor is, or at least tries to pass himself off as being

but like.... we know he's a drinker.... and we know certain details about him having an alcoholic abusive father who was cruel to his mother which heavily influenced his whole Dexter serial killer morality bs... and I can't help but think of a fic idea where Reader and Alastor are together and, suddenly without warning you break up with him BECAUSE YOU CHEATED ON HIM. you're like, legitimately heartbroken and missing him but you broke up for a good reason and, time passes and you dont see or hear from him, you're basically just going on with your life, and, MEANWHILE HE'S JUST SLOWLY DEVOLVING IN A PATHETIC LITTLE MEOW MEOW

His radio show comes on and he's SLURRING and people are aghast. Alastor is usually such a classy gentleman, so careful with his image??? Meanwhile he's in his radio station with several glasses of whiskey and staring at a wall lined with your photos while he's broadcasting, "ohhhh hEeeEy LiSteNers!! How-how are you all doing this.... 😡LOVELY😤 evening. Isnt..... isn't it... so nice to... spend time with loved ones when you need them? 🥴 WELL I WOULDNT KNOW HA HAH HA" *cue 30 straight uninterrupted seconds of unhinged laughing from a man clearly having an emotional crisis* "so on tonightsssshow I was-i wasszzz hoping to-to discussss-"

Like imagine tuning into his show after avoiding it because it broke your heart and it turns from him like, having an actual topic and planned structure of his show, to then, one day you overhear a broadcast and he's just occasionally slurring, saying really really vague shit about how "real men are supposed to be strong enough to protect and hold onto those they hold dear" and you can occasionally hear the THUNK of his whiskey glass hitting the table meaning he's already drunk but still drinking WHILE broadcasting and, oh honey you already sound so wasted you don't need more--

You guys don't understand. I want this man having a very PUBLIC very MESSY mental breakdown because he was CRAZY IN LOVE WITH YOU and you sat him down and told him you love him deeply but you need sex and you've cheated on him REPEATEDLY and EVEN THEN he was HARDCORE COPING, "w well as long as you promise it won't happen again-" "I cant and i won't. I love you but i cant repress this part of myself" LIKE YOU DECIMATE THIS MAN. Alastor's just beside himself because like, not without valid feelings but you're basically dumping him to fuck strangers. Like. I just. What if he literally had a ring box or was starting to realize he's demisexual on the ace spectrum and was starting to have Those Feelings for you and you're just. Breaking up with him, and all he hears is "sorry but having these disgusting men I don't even know hunch over on me grunting like disgusting animals and defiling me who is definitely way too good for them is way better than being with you my respectful funny classy charming totally-not-husband"

I want you to be walking down the streets of Hell and Vox suddenly comes on their equivalent of a jumbotron and he's visibly beside himself with excitement, "BREAKING NEWS, THE RADIO DEMON IS PISS DRUNK IN THE GUTTER LIKE A FUCKING LOSER, MORE NEWS ON THE SCENE" and it just snap cuts to him facedown in the street somewhere. Have you ever seen Intervention. You can have grown ass adults with successful careers and loving communities and when they find something that breaks them you'll be seeing shit like, children finding their mothers literally passed out in the yard because they were too drunk to get into the house or even WALK properly. So. You just. See him in this legitimately pathetic absolutely humiliating state and you can't help but feel that that's YOUR fault, meanwhile Vox is living his best fucking life, GOD FORBID VOX SEES YOU STANDING THERE CRYING ON THE SIDEWALK, he's then broadcasting your crying face all over Hell, "Hey Alastor even your EX is CRYING AT HOW PATHETIC YOU ARE, GUESS THAT'S WHY THEY LEFT YOU HUH" and like. The live feed of Alastor shows him just, struggling to even lift his head to look up to, wherever, and see your image there, looking absolutely devastated, looking at him with pity and heartbreak. oh, his sweet beloved, looking so distressed because you see him so weak...

Vox is just living it up mocking both of you but he's made several enormous mistakes by putting you on the air, especially looking like THAT, especially with Alastor in this mental state, and ESPECIALLY to mock you when you're already looking so broken. The feed cuts. All the TVs read "LOST SIGNAL" and nothing comes back on the news for the rest of the night. Less than a week later, the radios are on again, and Alastor sounds... completely back to normal? Chipper, even? And at first you're happy to hear he's all good and well, but, there's something about some of the things he's saying that are making you a little.... nervous?

"You know folks, it took me an EMBARRASSINGLY long while to realize that, a true traditional man puts the needs of others above himself, and especially the needs of his special somebody! One can't truly care for one's loved one properly if you're too boggled down with, FEELING SORRY for yourself right? How else are you going to... defend what's yours if you just lie down and take it?"

"So while I was off the air, good listeners, I was doing quite a bit of, spring cleaning, let's call it! Yes, I was... unfortunately very busy, having to wrangle up quite a few.... disgusting, insignificant, dirty, thieving PERVERTS!!!! ....but now that that's all good and done with, I'd certainly like to think these streets are a little more... respectable!"

"To end the broadcast tonight, a final word to all my fellow men out there. If you happen to discover that, for whatever reason, your beloved has run off with another? It was because you deserved it for being WEAK. You allowed another man to just, COME IN and... DESECRATE what is precious to you? Disgraceful. Pathetic. Ill-mannered. You cannot call yourself a worthy partner if you simply allow your beloved to waltz themselves into the mouth of danger, can you? So, a little piece of advice from your humble host here tonight: Take back what is yours. Take them back, do not let them go, and do not let anyone EVER soil your love ever again. ........Also hey! Don't forget that the annual Cannibal District Cook-Out is this coming weekend so be sure to--"

[taesancult]

Taesan fingering you until you squirt all over his hand and you’re just too overstimulated that your legs shake even at the slightest contact of his fingers on ur skin !

YOOO my face went �� while reading this… ur mind is so powerful like this mental image is so GOOD-

18+ stuff under the cut. mdni.

picture this with me… he LAUGHS when you squirt on him. i’m assuming we’re talking about meanie!taesan here since that was the theme of our discussion last night (he’d react differently if he was in a softer mood, probably more shy but)… anyways…

he would be overstimulating you, his fingers gliding in and out of your already soiled pussy. you would be telling him to stop, saying it feels funny, as he continued to hit that one sensitive spot in you over and over again. “d-dongmin, s-stop it’s too much, feels like i’m gonna pass out!” you’d whine as you have a grip on his hand. he was relentless as he wanted to see how far he could push you, he would tell you “you asked me to make you cum? i thought you wanted this?” he’d say with a smirk as he kept going. he knew if you really did have a problem you’d use your safeword, so he was confident you were just being “a little bitch” as he would say. squirting wasn’t necessarily the goal, but rather the goal was getting you fucked so dumb, but once it happens he’s elated. you would whine and complain that it feels like too much, him telling you to “be quiet, take it like a good girl.” once he saw the way your body reacted, the way your pussy would squirt for him, he was in shock, but so smug about it. he would shake his head, lightly laughing.

he would see the big mess you made all over his hands, maybe even on part of his body too, and absolutely degrade you for it. saying things like “are you kidding me? even your body is so dramatic. can’t take what i give you even though you beg and plead for it.” like he’s just so cold and distant sometimes in this role and it’s so attractive. in his mind, though, he finds it so hot how you reacted so aggressively to him. you would pout at him, saying “it’s not my fault! i told you too much!” you’d whine out as he would smile, not being able to hide how adorable he finds you like this. he’d gently trace his fingers along your thighs, seeing you flinch from just from the softest touch. your legs were still shaking for him as he lightly graced his fingers along your body, making his eyes go all dark from the power he has over you.

[total-drama-brainrot]

Alenoaheather grabbed me by the throat and body slammed me through 15 consecutive buildings a week ago and it is entirely your fault/lh

But I was thinking about the incredible Fake Dating AU y’all were putting together and had a question, then realized I could just ask the question because it’s ✨Tumblr✨. But what do you think would’ve happened if Izzy wasn’t there when Noah passed out at the gym with Eva? Like, imagine Alejandro and Heather bust into the gym, but because of Eva’s awkward ass self(I love her sm) it genuinely just seems like she knocked out Noah. How would you expect the scenario to play out after that, because I do imagine that Aleheather wouldn’t be happy about seeing Noah laid out like a starfish-

My apologies 😔 (I'm not sorry 😈). /lh

The idea of Eva holding up a passed out Noah by the collar of his undershirt, all but looming over him in her desperation to get him to wake the fuck up, only to have both Heather and Alejandro burst into the room and misconstrue the situation entirely is so fucking funny to me. Thank you for the mental image, anon.

Because Eva has aggression practically woven into the threads of her character; she speaks aggressively, se thinks aggressively, and we all know she acts aggressively. Even when she's trying to be gentle she's always going to be rough around the edges, so it'd genuinely look like she's about to pummel an unconscious Noah into nerd-paste. Without Izzy there as a mitigating force, Eva wouldn't have the eloquence to properly explain the situation before AleHeather jump to conclusions and act accordingly.

Which would mostly be Heather trying to beat the shit out of Eva, physical discrepancies be damned, as Alejandro scoops up their partner bridal style and fusses over the 'damsel' in the situation.

Because, out of the two of them, Heather's always been the more physically aggressive one. She's not afraid to start throwing hands- of course, Heather's more likely to attack others with her words, but she's never shied away from a more hands-on approach to conflict. Whereas Alejandro, for all of his displays of physical prowess, doesn't ever really use his strength in a hostile way (his boxing math with José non-withstanding), and he's far too much of a gentleman to ever hit a woman.

So Eva would be staving off an irate Heather, who's trying to claw her eyes out or something, using her superior muscle mass to (as gently as she can) subdue Heather so she could explain herself. But 'fighting back' only makes Eva look worse to the pair, and any explanations she'd try to offer would be all but drowned out by Heather's enraged screaming, falling on deaf ears. Eva really doesn't want to hurt Heather, so she'd hold back the majority of her overwhelming strength, but Heather would interpret that as Eva looking down on her which would only serve to fuel her anger.

Meanwhile, Alejandro and his saviour complex would be trying to resuscitate Noah from his overexertion coma (previously established; Noah goes sicko mode on a punching bag and his noodly ferret body couldn't handle the strain of physical effort), though half of his attention would be diverted towards Heather going beast mode on Eva- either because he'd be genuinely concerned/alarmed by her ferocity, or because Alejandro seems like the type of guy who'd find Heather going feral kind of hot (whichever's funnier).

Eventually Heather would either tire herself out and Eva could attempt to blunder her way through an explanation- under the dual judgemental/seething glares of AleHeather- to mixed results, OR Noah would wake up, have a 'what the fuck is going on here' moment, and quickly clear up the confusion in his patented know-it-all way. That is to say, insulting everyone involved for their incompetency whilst ignoring his own pivotal role in the disagreement, and then explaining that he and Eva are cool now. (He'd probably be a dick about it to; "We're besties, me and Eva are having a sleepover tonight and we're going to talk about Boys and Shoes and Makeup and you're not invited." Noah can't stop being a sarcastic jester-coded prick for more than one scene or else he'll implode.)

-

Of course, this is all just speculation. I expect @perpetualexistence has plenty of their own thoughts to add to this hypothetical, as the adoptive 'co-parent' of this AU!

This is mostly just me pushing my "AleNoah ask for no pickles, Heather's the one who confronts the cashier when they get pickles" Alenoaheather dynamic. Heather the girlboss and her two cringefail, pathetic-pilled boyfriends. She's the only one of the three who can be direct with her misgivings (Noah is blunt, sure, but he skirts around confrontation- see his reaction to Alejandro's comment in "I See London..."). Also a not-so-subtle nod towards Alejandro always prioritising being the 'hero who rescues the damsel' over the 'hero who confronts the villain', which is literally just canon. The guy's not confrontational despite being manipulative- the puppet master works behind the curtains, after all. (The only time I can think of him ever directly confronting someone is, again, his comment to "Noah in I See London...", which is less of an accusation and more of a pointed comment.)

[ashen-char]

I'm so sorry for the yapping...

omfg don't even make me start on ivan yelling at that poor staff member!! only someone who never had to work a day of their lives and got everything they wanted within a blink of an eye would do something like that and say "it's a jooooke ahahah"! like you're not funny bro 😐 you're just a piece of shit...

ivan really irks me in a lot of stuff that he does like at his big age it's NOT cute to act like a little spoiled kid, in parts we can blame his parents for that, but come on now he can think for himself already! like the way he acts and carries himself (for what we know) is giving he only cares for himself and his image! like running away when they showed up at his house to end the marriage, only proposing the marriage deal so he can stay in the US, turning the tv on right after they had sex while she dresses up (i know that's her job but like she's a person too, just because it's what she does for a living doesn't mean you have to treat her like she's disposable), showing off all his money, feeling entitled to yell at a hotel staff as a joke (so fucking weird), not wanting to come out of the jet to talk to anora after shit went down and what he put her through, etc.

he doesn't show that he cares about anyone else besides him, not even for anora HIS FUCKING WIFE (okay it's fake but like come on, anyone would care about their fake wife a little bit), like i can't believe when mark in a interview said that ivan loves/fell in love with anora. it's really hard for me to believe that he even cares about her as a person when his actions don't show the care and love that mark said the character feels. like i genuinely think ivan only sees anora as a means to an end, as a body, you know? maybe because I'm a very actions speak louder than words person and my main love language is acts of service, but to me there's nothing pointing towards ivan loving anora.

oh i think igor feels very sympathetic towards anora, for what i know about him he seems very closed-off but has a heart of gold, he maybe sees someone he cares about in her (maybe himself even) and tries to help as much as he can, but also he strikes me as someone who's very loyal to his boss, because his boss gave him a second chance, so he's in the middle of doing what's right according to his values and doing what's right according to his boss.

BUT at the end i really think he'll follow his heart and be more on anora's side, he'll keep in touch with anora. i think he'll became a big brother figure in ani's life and someone she confides.

reader is 100% a romantic, like i know they'll be happy to just be in silence with who they love and they'll have a stupid smile on their face! they'll cook meals for anora, bakes her favourite sweets even when they're just friends!

i just know reader cooks food for her to take to work, like she be proudly showing up her amazing food and her little dessert to all her coworkers like she would do later on with the ring ivan gave to her. and i think that's nice parallel between who reader is in anora's life amd how they love her and who ivan is in her life and how he shows that he wants her (again i don't think he loves her). i would yap more about this but I'll keep this one short because this is getting too long (I'm sorry): like ivan just has to buy the ring one time, that's it! he wastes his time on anora one time (if he was the one who got out and bought the ring); while reader spends their time cooking for her, searching for recipes that anora will like so she has something healthy and homemade to take to work, reader knows how hard anora's job is, they've seen her so tired physically and mentally, and they know she probably has to eat light but also nutritious enough so she doesn't pass out and anything like it, so hey just use their free time to try new recipes for anora! like reader puts in the time and effort to show they care about ani while ivan only puts his parents money on it.

THIS IS SO LONG LMAO UH TLDR IVAN IS PETER PAN

i've been really on and off with ivan cause sometimes what i'm hearing is endearing (at least for a fictional character lol i would NOT put up w hearing abt a real man doing dumb shit like that). jello in the pool funny enough idea but throwing his money at issues for like 25k in damages is fuck you level of rich boy, like shut up you've never had problems in your lifeee. and the parts that are endearing are probably all mark, he's said in interviews that sean and him talked about how ivan doesn't have any bad intentions and i can see that. (think like peter pan). it doesn't even feel inherently selfish but that he goes to the next fun thing as soon as possible. sex is done? alright, gonna game. bad situation? ugh i don't know how to deal with that i have to bolt. 

the thing is that kids do know how to care. and love. and put things above themselves. if they're taught how to. what's bad about ivan and peter pan is specifically that they're running from consequences, be that even away from people he does care about, contrasted from the other kids that do know when it's time to grow up. ani falls for that in a way, and so does wendy. they'd be kids who matured too quickly in comparison, and feel lighter when peter's around and shows them that fun is good and possible. ivan takes her from a life which is hard, where she has to think way too much about money and making it to the next day, and eliminates that barrier for her. and with his entourage too, i'm not sure on whether they're rich of their own merit as well, but assuming ivan is paying for everyone he's probably used to his money and fun being the only reason people stick around. as well as ani's probably used to her looks/sex being the reason some people stick around.

and in a round about way, the staying US thing is the proof that he loves her.  he's running from his responsibilities already, yeah, but to stay in the US with her, for her, because of her i think is the most he's ever committed to anything. and exclusively too, which is uncharacteristic from a usual hedonistic rich boy character like that, not being a playboy. he could keep hopping countries and party everywhere, the staying is specifically "i want to live without consequences here with you". (NOT THAT I LIKE OR WANNA DEFEND IVAN AT ALL, i do think any love he has isn't true and that's the point, but it is genuine insofar that the both of them believe in it). what they like about each other is that they show each other experiences the other couldn't have had without them.

for igor, i'll say i have to wait and see again. he would know ani's struggles more than ivan does. he would silently care about her, doing little things for her (the way mikey said yuri took care of her on set because he very in character was sweet, more actors being method in nice ways rather than being menaces pls). i think ani is perturbed that she doesn't know what igor wants from her, she doesn't understand someone caring about her for no reason. in a way, it's why ivan's care is easy to accept. igor is a lot harder to read, harder to see his intentions, his reasoning. (this is where i have to try very hard not to talk about the ending so i'll cut myself off)

with x reader, the main question really is "what would it look like to love this character". and ani is both a very genuine, intuitive person that outwardly rejects being cared for because she isn't used to it. an entirely non transactional relationship. i can see ani making jokes that she should pay you back with a lapdance whenever you feed her. filling the tupperware you put the food in with food she tried to make on her own to return the favour. a cycle of both of you gifting and regifting the same container. she gets home so late at night but you'd know she spent hours baking in that tiny kitchen of hers just for you.

[flickersprout]

hello would you be willing to say your million opinions about the mystery twins?

WHY YES

I am unwell about these people thank you so much for asking /gen (long post incoming)

I'm a little more familiar with Cellbit's character than Bagi's, so probably have more headcanons about him. I am actively trying to get more unhinged about Bagi because she is so cool and everyone should tell me their Bagi headcanons

Bagi headcanons/opinions:

She should be transfem. as a treat. her being transfem lets me make the twins identical, and anything that makes it more obvious how related they are makes them funnier

Her being transfem also adds fun layers to her relationship with Tina, as Tina is a demon pretending to be human. All I'm saying is you could do some fun parallels and contrasts about presentation and the self

Also if you make her and Jaiden and Baghera all transfem, you get the fun fed-sisters-plus transfem solidarity that exists only in my head

She can only barely cook. She never learned as a kid and then got fucking frozen, and she's tried to learn as an adult but it's not going well

When she thinks about raising Empanada, she gets kinda caught between wanting to pass on the pacifist, live-and-let-live mentality that she pretends to have and the more defensive/aggressive ideas she actually has. She does like the idea of pacifism and doesn't want Empanada to grow up bitter, but... peace isn't what's kept her safe and alive

Empanada's first death resolved a lot of those conflicts. A kinder world isn't coming, so she has to raise a fighter

Her "pretending to be an ethical vegetarian" thing is hilarious to me. girl you aren't pretending to be a vegetarian you just are one. you can lie about your reasons but girl. you don't eat meat

Cellbit headcanons/opinions:

He can't cook even a little bit. Federation pet -> child soldier -> jail-> struggling adult? yeah he never fucking learned to cook

Relatedly I think he's a picky eater but has weird tastes. Like i think he eats instant microwave/just add water foods raw and likes it because he learned to eat it like that at some point, but can't stand a lot of "real food" because he just never got used to it (this is partly based on me lsjkhd)

He owns a butterfly knife and he's good with it. He picked it up as a hobby after Fuga when he was in therapy because he needed something to fill his time and it was a socially acceptable way to carry a knife. He can do all kinds of tricks now

Just pre-purgatory (and probably still now tbh) sometimes the butterfly knife suddenly reminds him too much of a real knife or triggers some kind of intrusive thought that scares him. His reaction to this is to just let go of the knife midair. He's very lucky no one's gotten hurt yet

He 100% remembers more of his childhood with Bagi than he admits. He pretends he doesn't because even acknowledging that he was a child once undermines his image of himself as a monster (upsetting, unhealthy self-image, sure, but one that's kept him safe. monsters aren't afraid of anything. monsters can't be hurt. children, though?)

As much as I understand and will read about autistic!Cellbit headcanons, I don't agree (i am autistic, for the record). He's actually really good with social cues, like scary good, and obviously has really strong theory of mind. Like I get where people are coming from but we need to defend an allistic guy's right to just be a fucking freak (/lh /nm)

I want to call Cellbit and Baghera "hunters" instead of "chainsaw killers." again I get where people are coming from. it's funny and I'll use it. however hunters would go so hard. same genre as codebreakers and bloodhounds. do you see my vision

[lucius-morningstar]

Don't wanna talk about it.

ITime for my boy to get a little scarred, but it's okay.. Right? ---- Husk: Well if it isn't the Prince gracing us with his presence, woah. What happened to you. Lucius: Nothing, give me a drink. The strongest thing you got. Angel: What's up with you. Lucius: Again, don't want to talk about it. Angel: Can I guess. Lucius: No. Angel: Imma guess anyway. You see someone get impaled. Lucius: ... Angel: Hmm, see a cannibal orgy. Lucius: .... Angel: You witness Alastor dancing with a deer corpse. Lucius: No. Husk: See someone get eaten alive? Lucius: *Gags* Shut up and give me a drink. Angel: Huh, that's weird. I feel like for someone whose eaten an eye ball or two you'd be use to something like that by now. Lucius: Ugh.. Can we please just drop it Please. I will pay you both to not bring this up anymore. Angel: Ooh it's that bad. Husk: Now you got me curious. Lucius: You ever hear what happens to curious cats Husk. It gets cats killed. Angel: Ooh but satisfaction brings em back don't it. Husk: Pass. Angel: Rude.. So, now we have an idea of what. But maybe it's the context and not just the visual. Lucius: I will fuck you if you drop this please. Angel: See now for once I don't wanna get fucked, only cause it has to be that bad for you to not want to talk about it. Husk: ..Is this a familial thing? Lucius: No. Angel: Tone says otherwise so yes. let's see. Let's get the clues together. It's a familial area and it has to do with someone getting eaten a-..No fuckin way. Lucius: *Groans* Please just give me a drink. Angel: *Grins* Seen Vaggie munching your sisters carpet. Lucius: OH for the love of everything holy and evil in this world. Please fucking drop it! Angel: Are you fuckin kiddin, not every day I get to poke at something that bugs you this bad. How'd you even find them in that position. I took your sister and Vaggie for prudes. Lucius: I'm not answering this, It's bad enough i have the mental image in my head. I am not talking further on it. Husk: We're they in their room because that's the only way I can't see you walking in on them. Angel: By the look on his face I'd say he entered without permission. Lucius: I was half asleep, in the middle of some fucked up nightmare, heard her scream and panicked okay. That's it. Angel: ... Husk: .... Angel: So it was the climax of your dre- *He quickly ducks as a glass goes flying past his head.* Lucius: Shut the fuck up! Angel: *laughs* Oh my fucking god, this is just rich. Husk: It is kind of funny. Lucius: Well I'm glad you two are so amused by all this! Husk: I mean yeah kind of not as much as you'd think though. Angel: I'm super amused. Lucius: Don't tell me you would find it so funny if it we're your sister. Angel: Ah-.. No I wouldn't actually. Lucius: Exactly, now shut the fuck up. This night can't get anyworse. Charlie: Lucius! Lucius: Oh fuck no, can't face her right now. Don't let her know I was here! *he doesn't really wait for an answer before he bolts.* Charlie: Ugh.. Lucius come on we need to talk about this. Angel: Hey Toots. Charlie: Have you guys seen my brother he um-.. We need to talk about something and he's kind of avoiding me. Husk: He just left. Charlie: *Sighs* Of course he did. Angel: ..So she knows what buttons to push- Charlie: I am not talking about this with you, I'm surprised he even told you two. Angel: To be fair we kinda tortured it out of him. It was too funny not too. Charlie: Ugh.. You two are just too much right now. I am going to have to try and talk to him tomorrow. Goodnight both of you and please don't let this spread around more. Husk: It won't. Angel: Night Charlie. Husk: ... Angel: So we're talling everyone right. Husk: I'm not, but I can't stop you. Angel: I am so going to tease the fuck outta dem tomorrow.

[mirkwoodsprinceofdoingtoomuch]

Three

Today’s lecture was on presidential sex scandals through history, and he texts Nora: numbers on one of us getting involved in a sex scandal before the end of second term?

Her response comes within seconds: 94% probability of your dick becoming a recurring personality on face the nation. btw, have you seen this?

There’s a link attached: a blog post full of images, animated GIFs of himself and Henry on This Morning. The fist bump. Shared smiles that pass for genuine. Conspiratorial glances. Underneath are hundreds of comments about how handsome they are, how nice they look together.

omfg, one commenter writes, make out already.

Alex laughs so hard he almost falls in a fountain.

He finds Luna in his office, horn-rimmed reading glasses doing nothing to detract from his usual appearance of a movie star who tripped and fell sideways into politics. Alex has always suspected the soulful brown eyes and perfectly groomed stubble and dramatic cheekbones won back any votes Luna lost by being both Latino and openly gay.

The album playing low in the room is an old favorite Alex remembers from Denver: Muddy Waters. When Luna looks up and sees Alex in his doorway, he drops his pen on a haphazard pile of papers and leans back in his chair.

“Fuck you doing here, kid?” he says, watching him like a cat.

Alex reaches into his pocket and pulls out a packet of Skittles, and Luna’s face immediately softens into a smile. “Atta boy,” he says, scooping the bag up as soon as Alex drops it on his blotter. He kicks the chair in front of the desk out for him.

Alex hooks a leg over one armrest of the chair. “I resent the idea I can’t come visit a dear family friend without ulterior motives.”

“Bullshit.”

He clutches his chest. “You wound me.”

“You exhaust me.”

“I enchant you.”

“I’ll call security.”

“Fair enough.”

Alex is taking notes in a policy lecture when he gets the first text.

This bloke looks like you.

There’s a picture attached, an image of a laptop screen paused on Chief Chirpa from Return of the Jedi: tiny, commanding, adorable, pissed off.

This is Henry, by the way.

He rolls his eyes, but adds the new contact to his phone: HRH Prince Dickhead. Poop emoji.

He’s honestly not planning to respond, but a week later he sees a headline on the cover of People—PRINCE HENRY FLIES SOUTH FOR WINTER—complete with a photo of Henry artistically posed on an Australian beach in a pair of sensible yet miniscule navy swim trunks, and he can’t stop himself.

you have a lot of moles, he texts, along with a snap of the spread. is that a result of the inbreeding?

Henry’s retort comes two days later by way of a screenshot of a Daily Mail tweet that reads, Is Alex Claremont-Diaz going to be a father? The attached message says, But we were ever so careful, dear, which surprises a big enough laugh out of Alex that Zahra ejects him from her weekly debriefing with him and June.

So, it turns out Henry can be funny. Alex adds that to his mental file.

Alex wouldn’t say he likes Henry, but he does enjoy the quick rhythm of arguments they fall into. He knows he talks too much, hopeless at moderating his feelings, which he usually hides under ten layers of charm, but he ultimately doesn’t care what Henry thinks of him, so he doesn’t bother. Instead, he’s as weird and manic as he wants to be, and Henry jabs back in sharp flashes of startling wit.

One does not foster a lifelong love of Star Wars without knowing an “empire” isn’t a good thing.

He would really appreciate it if Henry would stop proving him wrong.

[Image ID: two screenshots side by side from a page in Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. The first screenshots are of text messages between Henry and Alex. The first one reads

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji

Oct 30, 2019, 1:07 PM

i hate that tie

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji What tie?

the one in that instagram you just posted

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji What's wrong with it? It's only grey.

exactly. try patterns sometime, and stop frowning at your phone like i know you're doing rn

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji Patterns are considered a "statement." Royals aren't supposed to make statements with what we wear.

do it for the gram

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji You are a thistle in the tender and sensitive arse crack of my life.

The second screenshot reads

Nov 17, 2019, 11:04 AM

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji I've just received a 5-kilo parcel of Ellen Claremont campaign buttons with your face on them. Is this your idea of a prank?

just trying to brighten up that wardrobe, sunshine

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji I hope this gross miscarriage of campaign funds is worth it to you. My security thought it was a bomb. Shaan almost called in sniffer dogs.

oh, definitely worth it. even more worth it now. tell shaan i say hi and i miss that sweet sweet ass xoxoxo

HRH Prince Dickhead poop emoji I will not.

End ID]

[sapphire-weapon]

Thanks for saving my masturbation ask for last. It allowed me to read about Leon fucking himself while I enjoyed my breakfast and coffee. But the part where Remake Leon pretty much has to make love to himself (when there are definitely people willing to help out) and still feels nothing after was great. I feel like he'd be the type to just lay there for a while after, letting his cum dry onto his skin and ruminate on his life cuz what's the point of his futile existence.

I also like that DI Leon is a whole separate Leon in himself. I feel bad for the girls he sexts with on Tinder if his cheesy dialogue is in any way shape or form similar to how he jokes around in the movie. He does seem more vulgar though, so he gets points for that.

A question just popped into my head while writing this: does any variation of Leon send dick pics?

I hope your day is much better today! ✨

That mental image of Leon just lying there in his own mess, staring at the ceiling, possibly with an arm draped over his forehead, is so strong. Just wondering to himself why he even bothered, what the point of it is. And eventually he just peels himself off of his sheets, cleans himself up, and goes for a run -- and realizes he should've just fucking gone running in the first place, because the endorphin rush from exercise is so much more helpful than whatever the fuck it was that he'd just done.

And LMAO DI Leon is a whole version on his own because he's pretty much reached the point of breaking through the other side of the self-isolation part of his depression and has finally allowed himself to, like. Have friends and be a part of society again.

I imagine he's a lot better at sexting than he is trying to do the whole phone sex thing with his actual verbal words. When he can actually see written out the dumb shit that he's about to say, he's able to self-edit and be like "oh that looks bad actually" lmao but I'm sure he still gets away with it verbally too because girls are like "but he's got a hot voice tho"

I mean, I wouldn't give him a pass, but I'm also not your average Tinder girl. Or on Tinder at all, actually LMAO

My knee-jerk reaction to the dick pics question was "oh hell no he's a fed he knows exactly how easily that can be mined from his or anyone else's phone from almost anywhere" but then I remembered we were talking about OG Leon and not Remake Leon, and I don't think OG Leon would give a fuck LMAO so, yeah, he totally sends dick pics.

He doesn't send them unsolicited, though. At least, for the most part. He doesn't wait to be explicitly asked, but he'll usually only send them while he's already in the process of actively sexting someone. If he sends em outside of that, it's because it's relevant to/appropriate for the conversation.

As funny as I think it'd be for Leon to be that guy who just surprises you in the middle of your day with a random dick pic, I don't think he's got the free time tbh -- and even when he does, he lives a busy enough lifestyle to be cognizant of the fact that other people may also be busy and can't just be on the receiving end of shit like that out of the blue.

[otakween]

They Were 11 - One Shot

(The cover art above is for chapter or issues, by the way, not volumes).

This is a niche little shoujo manga from the 1970s (as is obvious by the art style) that managed to be translated by Viz back in the day. It got a film and a sequel manga so it must have had some kinda impact.

Moto Hagio is an OG big name in shoujo world. I recognize her for The Heart of Thomas which also featured bishounen and came out in America. Just thinking about 1970s fujoshi is a pretty funny mental image lol.

Ch. 1

Shoujo x sci-fi is a very intriguing combo that you don't see super often. I recently finished Knights of Sidonia which was blatantly appealing to men, so this is refreshing. Also...gays in space??? 👀

So the former Earthlings are spread across a bunch of planets and are called Terrans. There a bunch of alien species that they're allied with as well. The aliens look pretty human except for some basic differences. That's kinda too bad. I prefer my aliens to be more animalistic

I was definitely into the "male character who is pretty much just a woman in design" in my middle school weeb era, but now I just see it for what it is: fujoshi pandering. I wouldn't mind it as much if it wasn't written so awkwardly. They spend half of the first chapter being like "you SURE you're not a girl?"

The names are ridiculous in both a fun and cringe way. They really had to name one of the only darker skinned people "Chako Kaka?" da fuck

Speaking of people of color, we got a totally white looking person calling themselves the Maya King...I'm sure there's no relation to the Mayans of our world but like, pick a different name then.

Lack of darked skinned people aside, the diversity is decent for a 1970s manga. I like the variety in body type at least. They definitely succeeded in giving everyone a very distinct and memorable look. No same face syndrome here.

So the plot so far is kind of a Lord of the Flies in space vibe. They gotta show they can survive adrift in space for 50-something days. I imagine they'll encounter some kinda space threats to keep things interesting.

The English title should have just been "There were 11" because "They were 11" sounds like the cast is a bunch of 11 year olds lol.

Ch. 2

Whaaa? So this is a hetero story after all? Then what's the point? (lol)

So this chapter was all about the crew members being suspicious of Tada (thinking he's the 11th person) and Frol obsessively following him around the ship. We also learn a little bit more about the situation they're in and the ship itself.

So far this test sounds pretty plush. They're basically on a cruise liner with unlimited food lol. I'm not sure what the goal of the test is yet, but right now they're working on fixing parts of the ship.

We get some lore about Gunga's species. I feel like the pacing of this one off is kinda weird, like there's only 2 chapters left so we're probably not going to learn about everyone yet they took the time to go in depth on this one dude. I guess we got some Tada insight out of it.

Ch. 3

Okay DAMN this chapter really popped off!! My perspective has shifted with all of the reveals.

So Frol is intersex which explains pretty much everything. The explanation for how his culture works was fascinating. Normally people don't get to choose their gender (society chooses for them) but Frol is made a bargain to become a man if he passes this test. His explanation for why was surprisingly logical.

The gender diversity was dealt with pretty well for a manga from the 70s. The only thing that was iffy was that everyone started treating Frol like a woman and Tada daydreams about Frol becoming a woman (against his wishes). Knu reveals that they're intersex as well but their culture is very different from Frol's. They go through a more natural metamorphosis but Knu got "stuck" and is now a monk because intersex people aren't eligible for marriage. This kinda species world building is always so interesting to me...

Some outdated terminology was used but that's to be expected. We got "hermaphrodite," "bisexual" (when referring to genitals), and "unisexual?" I actually don't know if we still use that last one lol

Intersex characters are pretty rare, I kinda wish there were more that weren't aliens, but what can ya do?

Not Knu validating all of the astrology girlies by saying it's a valid science on his planet lmao

The Tada reveal was just as impactful as the Frol one. I loved how his repressed memory came back, that was illustrated so masterfully.

And suddenly this is a pandemic story...noooo. Isn't space scary enough as it is?? 😭

Ch. 4

Nice, I really enjoyed how they wrapped everything up in this chapter. We got the reveal (and a fake Red Herring reveal) of the 11th man, the ins and outs of the test were explained, and everybody's happy and safe at the end of the day. Honestly, feels kinda unrealistic for this kinda setting but maybe I've just been brainwashed by horror sci-fi to think that lol.

Gunga was a real one throughout this whole story. I could kind of tell he was lying about being the 11th to help Tada out.

Frol telling Tada he would become a woman for him was pretty fucked up. That's not a good start to a relationship where you gotta change yourself for your partner. What is this Grease!? On the brightside, we don't find out which path they actually take, so you can easily head canon that they either part ways or take the gay route.

That woulda been pretty disappointing if they actually didn't pass. Glad the story didn't go that way. (Sometimes you just need a basic happy ending amirite?)

An interesting one off (technically there's a sequel), pretty well paced for an older manga and the art was gorgeous. I give it a solid 6 out of 10.

[wait----------what]

New art challenge ig? Draw your oc as an avatar/victim of one of the fears

So. . . I got bored and decided to try and figure out what fear entity's would effect my OCs and how, enjoy ig?

First poor fuck up for shenanigans is Rince

Basically the only of my ocs to not be stuck at whatever age i made em at. Somehow survived a dnd campaign that ran for 30 ses- no clue how but he managed it.

Teifling bard, lv 20

OK so basically this is a 'what avatar might he be- this one's kinda obvious for the desolation. So first things first- the why. If anyone in my party finds this you know the exact reason and remind me any time fire in general comes up

Basically this beginner campaign, idk how all the spells work so I kinda, sorta burned three cities to the ground using faeri fire- to those that, like me, don't know what faeri fire is let me tell ya- firstly, the fucker does 0 damage. Its a light spell meant to make things glow in the darkness

Sooo the whole fire deal of the desolation works out. Plus after figuring out teiflings are fire resistant I made him sleep in a camp fire. . .oh and then there's the whole pain and suffering aspect- my party is full of murder hobos that are way too quick to cannibalism, fire and soul sacrificing

Next up's a slaughter avatar. Again- *murder. Hobos*. Plus the only reason I made him a bard was because the mental image of someone beating the shit out of some poor sod with a ukulele was too damn funny to pass on

Finally, I think it would be a victim of the stranger. So a bit of context to this- there was about 5 or so sessions where our character couldn't remember anything. They looked human for some reason and they would randomly switch jobs. Key part of the job switching is that each time the character would think they'd only ever done that job and nothing else.

So being stuck in a body that wasn't thier own and constantly having their mind fucked would probably mean he would end up as a victim of the stranger, maybe give a statement about it

(Try to geuss the jobs from the clip!!)

[emeraldiis]

Falling for a God

A/N: Forgot to properly post/format this fic, so here ya go ya filthy animals (ok but i wrote it so I’m filthier)

AO3 Link

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 7.1k

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Summary: “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”You have a huge crush on Loki, there's lots of sexual tension, y'all fuck. That's the plot.

“Nat,” you whine. “I feel like you’re not even listening.” You prance to the front of her, spinning around to walk backwards.

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Wow, are you sure you aren’t pyschic?” She keeps up her brisk pace, and you nearly trip over yourself trying to keep up.

“That’s so rude!” You exclaim, but can’t hold back a giggle. Despite her cold demeanor, you know that Nat is just messing with you. Shooting a quick glance backwards, you decide that your path is clear, and return your gaze to your friend. “You’ll tell me if I’m about to run into something, right?”

With a wry grin, Natasha gives you a thumbs up. You beam at her. “Anyway,”  you continue. “I started watching this new TV show last night, and it is so, totally awesome. There’s this guy, and he has these badass powers, and he’s fighting this girl, and she has-”

Thump.

A small oof escapes from your mouth as your back collides with something solid. You pitch forward in surprise, and yelp as you try to stabilize yourself before you fall. Large, warm hands grab your waist, tightening around you to keep you from toppling over. You sigh in relief as your frantic heart slows to a normal rhythm. “Wow, thanks,” you say, and spin around to reveal the identity of your saviour.

Piercing blue eyes meet yours, and your breath catches in your throat. “Careful, pet,” Loki murmurs softly, a sly grin spreading across his lips. His hands slide off of your waist, making contact with the sliver of skin between your shorts and your top on the way. An involuntary shiver creeps up your spine, and you bite your lip.

The reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by the ever-perceptive trickster, and his eyes flash with surprise. “Are my hands really that cold?” Loki teases. “Perhaps you could help me warm them up.” His tone is playful, but there’s something deeper underneath his banter that makes you think he’s actually flirting.

You can tell that your cheeks are red, and you choose not to respond to Loki’s question in fear of making an even bigger fool of yourself. A stammered apology tumbles from your lips, and you look back towards Natasha with a look of betrayal. She grins and shrugs. “I forgot to warn you. Oops.” Your mouth drops open. That scheming little devil. She knows about your crush on Loki, and she still allows you to make a fool out of yourself?

Your interactions with Loki were sparse, to say the least. Aside from a few casual conversations in a group, you had barely even talked to him. Still, he captivated you from the very first day he arrived at the compound. He was exactly your type; tall, dark, and brooding. Aside from Thor, most everyone gave Loki a wide berth, hesitant to forget the battle for New York. You, however, didn’t see a villain. You saw pain behind those blue eyes, and could empathize with Loki’s behavior. You knew all too well that it hurt to live in someone’s shadow, and sometimes acting out was a cry for help. Granted, Loki’s outbursts were far more drastic than yours had ever been, but it was more or less the same on a base level. And, the fact that he constantly had a witty remark on the tip of his tongue never ceased to entertain you. The man liked to hear himself talk, and damn, so did you.

It takes you a second to realize that you’ve been staring. You clear your throat awkwardly and look to the floor, eager to hide your discomfort. “Um, thank you for catching me,” you manage. When you look back up, Loki is wearing an odd expression. His pretty eyes are narrowed, searching your face. The scrutiny only embarasses you further. “Well, see you around!” WIth that, you dart around Loki and scurry off. Natasha follows you, snickering softly.

When you reach the common area, you plop yourself down on the couch and groan, throwing an arm over your face. Natasha sits down beside you. “Smooth,” she says, drawing out the word obnoxiously.

You remove your arm from over your eyes and give Natasha a withering look. “So not funny.”

Nat positively cackles at that. “Oh, come on,” she says. “He’d be an idiot to not at least have a thing for you, I mean, you’re smoking! ” She looks you up and down. “Nice rack, too.”

A giggle bursts from your lips. “Nat. Oh, my god. Stop objectifying me.”

Shaking her head, Natasha replies, “Me, objectify? I would never.”

That earns her an eye roll from you. “Sure. Anyway, can we please change the subject? I’m sick of talking about my embarrassing Loki crush.”

“What does ‘crush’ mean?”

You freeze. Now that was a distinct voice. “Thor,” you choke out. “When did you get here?”

Thor walks up behind the couch and swings himself over the back, making the poor piece of furniture creak in protest. He settles next to you, effectively sandwiching you between him and Natasha. “Just long enough to hear you discussing my brother. Now, will you please enlighten me on this strange Midgardian term?”

Before you can shut him down, Nat pipes up from the other end of the sofa. “It means she likes him. Romantically. Sexually. ”

The temptation to throw yourself onto the floor wailing is high. Instead, you opt to beg for your life. Still embarrassing, but slightly more productive than throwing a tantrum. “Nat!” You screech. You turn to Thor with pleading eyes. “Please, don’t say anything to him.”

Thor furrows his eyebrows. “What an odd expression. You’d think that the word “crush’ would be associated with something negative.” He places a big hand on your thigh. “If what Lady Natahsa says is true, then why would you not tell my brother? He is quite vain, you know. I’m sure he would be delighted to know that a beautiful woman is attracted to him!”

You groan and bury your face in your hands. These Asgardians will be the death of you. “It’s not that simple, Thor. What if he rejects me? I’d never be able to show my face around him again!”

There’s a pause, and then Thor asks you in a much gentler tone, “It seems as though you care for Loki a great deal more than you are letting on. Are you really afraid of embarrassment, or is it the heartbreak you fear?”

You’re glad that your hands are covering your face, because the way the color drains out of it at Thor’s question would have given you away. “No,” you mumble through your fingers. But he’s right, you do care for Loki more than you’d ever admit. His image ran through your head at night when you were trying to sleep, and his voice was what came to mind when your fingers were between your legs and you were pretending they were-

You rub at your eyes, then look up at Thor in desperation. “Please, if you really care about me as a friend, you’ll keep this secret.” You shoot a look at Natasha. “You, too. I may not be able to take Thor in a fight, but I could kick your ass.” You know you sound like a pathetic teenager, but you’re past the point of caring. You were perfectly happy admiring Loki from afar, and didn’t want to get your hopes up just to be met with shame.

Natasha scoffs. “As if.” Before she can continue. Thor holds up his hand.

“Lady Natasha, I believe we should stay out of this. I have done a great deal of meddling in my brother’s life, and I’ve learned that even the best intentions can cause disaster when Loki is involved.

“Thank you, Thor,” you say gratefully, relief evident in your voice. With a tired sigh, you hoist yourself up from the couch and turn to face your friends. “Well, I think I’ve had enough excitement for today. I’m going to hibernate, see you next spring.”

Natasha giggles and blows you a kiss goodbye while Thor scrunches up his face in confusion at your joke. Oh, well. Maybe he’d understand Midgardian humor one day.

*

Thunder rages outside your window while you toss and turn. You roll over to glance at your clock, and scowl when it flashes “3AM.” Giving up on the prospect of sleep, you opt for creeping to the kitchen for a midnight snack. Your bare feet pad down the carpet, and you shiver slightly at the cold air of the hall. Goosebumps rise on your bare legs and you start to regret your decision not to put on pants.

To get to the kitchen, you have to walk through the common area, and for a moment you linger just outside the entryway. There’s a soft glow coming from the corner of the room, and you mentally groan, hoping it’s one of the female inhabitants of the compound. You weren’t too excited at the idea of walking past one of the guys in just a sleep shirt and underwear. Still, your mission for food is not one you’re willing to give up on. Taking a deep breath, you step out of the hallway and into the room. And nearly pass out.

Across the room, perched in one of the loveseats, is Loki. He’s sitting with his legs curled underneath him, thumbing through a book. You consider darting back into the safety of the hall, but you’re too late. Loki has already noticed you, and is now staring far too intently for your liking. Suddenly feeling very exposed, you tug on the hem of your shirt, trying to pull it further down your legs. “Sorry to disturb you,” you whisper, afraid to break the deafening silence. Loki raises an eyebrow at you, then turns back to his book. You aren’t sure if you’re relieved or disappointed when his gaze leaves you.

Not wanting to linger in the entryway any longer, you make your way across the room, keeping your eyes down. As you pass Loki, a loud clap of thunder booms outside, and already being on edge, you yelp. Startled from the deafening sound in an otherwise quiet room, you stagger, falling backwards onto the loveseat. Right next to Loki. The sofa is small, and in your splayed out position, you’re almost half on top of the god.

Loki flinches away, and you immediately begin to apologize. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my footing. Did I hurt you?” As you talk, you push yourself off of Loki and cower into the other side of the loveseat. Some more rational part of your brain urges you to get up, give him some more space, but you don’t listen. As embarrassed as you are, you’re not quite ready to give up this closeness to the object of your affection.

With a huff, Loki straightens himself and gives you a cool look. “You did not hurt me, mortal. I was simply surprised.” Then, having composed himself, he smirks and sets his book on the end table beside him. “I suppose it is only natural to have weak knees in the presence of a god.”

The comment lightens the mood, and you find yourself relaxing next to him. “You’re right, Thor’s thunder does make me a tad unsteady.”

At that, Loki stiffens, obviously having not expected you to return his teasing. For a brief moment, you feel proud. Then, something changes in his expression, and he scoots closer to you. His hand finds your bare thigh, and the contact sends butterflies through your stomach. Loki senses your restlessness and gives you a predatory grin. ��Is that so? Are you telling me that this,” he squeezes your thigh, and you gasp. “Doesn’t make you feel...faint?” His voice is low, and he almost purrs the last few words.

You fight hard to keep your breathing even, not wanting to give away just how flustered you are. The heavy weight of his hand feels heavenly, and you can feel your panties grow damp. God, you hope he can’t smell it.

This predatory tone is so much different than the playful teasing that you usually receive from Loki. You’ve never seen his blue eyes so dark, and the unfamiliarity of it all tightens your stomach.

Taking your silence as a challenge, Loki presses himself even closer to you. His fingers creep up your leg, closer to your underwear. “Tell me, does being touched by a god make you nervous? I can feel you quivering, are you afraid?” Loki pauses, then leans down until his lips are almost touching your ear. “Or is that arousal I sense?”

Fuck. A full body shiver skates across your skin, and despite your best efforts, a small moan breaks free from your throat. Loki’s hand feels like a brand on your thigh, sending waves of heat up your body. The warmth pools between your legs, and you can’t help but shift a bit. Knowing that your panties are the only barrier between your soaking heat and the sofa, you arch your hips ever so slightly to keep from soiling the cushion.

Of course, your small movements don’t go unnoticed. Loki’s eyes are hooded as they rake across your bare legs, and you can hear his breathing get a bit heavier. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. “Oh, pet, look at you. Barely even touched, and already-”

He’s cut off by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall, headed in your direction. Loki curses softly and reluctantly draws his hand away, then moves as far away as the small sofa allows. Your skin aches at the loss of contact.

The interrupting stranger’s footsteps approach the entrance to the common room, then carry on past. You let out the breath you didn’t know you’d been holding, thankful that you wouldn’t have to explain anything. Something tells you that, while there’s nothing going on now, sitting with Loki in the middle of the night might raise a few eyebrows.

You and Loki are alone again, but the moment has passed. Whatever spell that had overcome the two of you is gone, and all that’s left is a quiet room and a dim light. “I apologize, I believe I have overstepped,” Loki says, and for the first time, he sounds...unsure. His voice has lost that arrogant confidence that it normally carries, and he sounds like a child that has just been caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You bite your lip and risk a glance at Loki. He’s still pressed against the opposite arm of the loveseat, and is avoiding your eyes. Without the atmosphere of desire from before, now you just feel...awkward. Sighing softly, you rise to your feet and make your way to the hallway. You pause briefly in the entryway, and breathe out a “goodnight, Loki.” You don’t wait for a response, instead turning and trudging back towards your room.

As you flop back down in bed, you replay the night’s events over in your mind. It almost feels like a dream, and you’re having trouble believing that Loki, the God of Mischief, had actually come on to you. It didn’t seem plausible. You’re just a plain mortal, nothing special, no powers. Sure, your combat skills could rival Natasha’s, but besides that, you can’t find anything about yourself that would attract a god.

Eventually, you decide that maybe Loki was just horny, and you were in the right place at the right time. You did walk out without pants on, after all. No matter the reasoning, you know not to expect a repeat occurrence, given how regretful he had seemed afterwards. Tears brim in your eyes as the reality of the situation hits you; Loki regrets touching you. It seems that your crush was one-sided, and even though you weren’t surprised, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

*

Things are tense around the compound. You creep around corners, terrified of accidentally finding yourself in the same room as Loki. And it seems that Loki is taking the same precautions, because you haven’t even seen a glimpse of him since that night. The ache in your heart from his rejection still keeps you up at night, and you still find yourself pining over him like a lovesick idiot.

Ever the observer, Natasha catches on quickly. “Are you really still embarrassed about bumping into Loki?” She asks after cornering you in the kitchen. “You’re not acting like yourself, and it is beyond obvious something is bothering you.”

You groan at her around a mouthful of a granola bar. “Are you really still thinking about it?” You counter.

Nat rolls her eyes. “Please, it’s hard to pretend it didn’t happen when you’re playing this stupid cat and mouse game. I see you check every room for him, I can’t believe you even care that much. He barely even touched you!”

A piece of your snack shoots down your throat with your gasp. You double over, wheezing and coughing. Natasha slaps a hand on your back, sighing. When you finally catch your breath, you glare at Nat. “Yeah, maybe that’s the issue.”

You immediately regret your words as a fire lights itself in Natasha’s eyes. “Want me to help?”

“Nat, hold on. No thanks-”

“Shush, trust me!” To your dismay, Natasha is already on her way out of the kitchen when she finishes hushing you. You whimper out a half-baked protest, but your friend is long gone by the time the words leave your mouth. Fuck, you’re so screwed.

LIfe  was very quickly becoming a stressful game of hide and seek. You’d resorted to spending most of the day in your room, hoping to avoid Loki, and more importantly, Natasha. You’re not sure what she has planned, but it can’t be anything good. As weeks pass by with no incident, however, you begin to drop your guard. Maybe she’s taking pity on you.

It’s around noon when you get the text. It’s an all caps message from Nat, pleading with you to at least hear her out before saying no.

That’s a terrifying text. I’m listening.

Nat: I may have bragged my way into a drinking contest with Thor, and I need a teammate to make it fair.

You want to try and outdrink Thor????

Nat: I want US to outdrink him. I convinced him that it’d be more balanced if it was 2 to 1.

You owe me.

Nat: :)

It was a terrible idea, but maybe a nice night of getting hammered is just what you need to break you out of your funk. Despite your initial reluctance, you find yourself getting excited. You hadn’t really relaxed in ages, this would be a good thing.

As the hours pass, you start to get nervous. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten properly drunk, and you seriously doubt you’ll be able to keep up with even Natasha. Still, a promise is a promise, and you have far too much pride to chicken out now.

The clock reaches nine o’clock, and you sigh. Showtime. Before leaving your suite, you set several glasses of water and a bottle of Advil on your nightstand. If you’re going to fuck over your future self, you might as well try to ease her pain. You take a deep breath and spare a glance over at the mirror against your bedroom wall. You had opted for something comfy, but cute; an emerald green dress that stopped just above your mid-thigh, and fell off of one shoulder effortlessly.

Okay, so maybe you had wanted to get a tiny bit dressed up. You’re sure Nat will tease you for it, but sometimes a girl just wants to feel pretty.

A bit breathless from those pre-competition nerves--yes, a drinking contest was that serious--you make your way to the kitchen. As you round the corner, you stop dead in your tracks. Sitting at the bar Tony had insisted on installing, is Nat and Thor, of course. But next to them, perched delicately on one of the stools, is Loki. He wears a look of disdain, as if this entire competition is beneath him. You hope he can’t tell how badly you want to be beneath him.

Natasha gives you a wicked grin as Thor waves you over, his smile far more innocent-looking than Nat’s, though you’re sure he had a part in this. Cursing your terrible friends under your breath, and yourself for falling for it, you trudge over. Naturally, the only stool left is the one on the end, directly next to Loki. You gingerly hoist yourself up and slide onto the seat.

You stubbornly keep your eyes on the counter, not daring to even glance up at Loki. It’s obvious from the way he’s angling himself away from you and towards his brother that he’s regretting that night, and doesn’t want to be near you. You don’t blame him, humans must seem like animals compared to gods. The reality is that you were a mistake to him, and you just needed to accept that and move past.

Breaking the awkward silence, Thor produces a jug of what looks like beer from god knows where. He grins and gestures to it grandly. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cut him off. “Hold up! I thought this was two against one? Loki being here makes it unfair.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at you. “Yeah, I may have bent the truth to get you to come out. It’s teams of two, but we have a handicap. Our drinks and shots count as twice the actual amount, and they’ll be drinking Asgardian mead. So,” She smirks. “No more complaints, let’s do this shit.”

You swallow nervously at the mention of shots. You could hold your liquor fairly well, but you and shots had...history. Nat knew how touchy you got when you were drunk, and how much of an oversharer you tended to be. Though you have to admit that her plan is almost flawless, you’re still unimpressed with her shenanigans. She’s pretty much set you up to embarrass yourself.

You twiddle your thumbs in your seat as Natasha grabs a bottle of Svedka from behind the bar and begins to pour the beginning drinks. Following her lead, Thor pops open his jug and splits it between two large glasses, then passes one to Loki, who sighs in apparent boredom. He shoots you an unreadable look, then grabs one of the shot glasses that Natasha filled and slides it your way.

With a mumbled “thanks,’ you gingerly take the glass, and look at Nat and Thor. Thor raises his glass. “May the better warriors win!” He announces, then tips back his glass. You roll your eyes at the word choice, but bring the shot glass to your lips and throw your head back. The liquor goes down rough, but you manage to keep your poker face and grit your teeth against any retches.

“The lady can drink!” Thor bellows, wiping at his face.

You shrug, wanting the spotlight off of you. “Um, I went to college?”

Before Thor can question you, Natasha cuts in. “Hello? I took it just as well, where’s my applause?”

“Natasha, you are not a lady,” Loki deadpans. Nat glares and pours herself another shot in response, throwing back the second one just as easily as she had the first. She then points at you. You can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. Despite everything, Loki was still Loki, and he still had your heart. It seems that the tension between you and Loki dissolves after you laugh at his quip, and he relaxes his stiff posture.

You sigh in relief and reach for the bottle to refill your own glass. This time, it goes down easier. That is, until the burns travels past your stomach, right down to between your legs. You squirm in place at the unexpected burst of arousal. Still, you should have been ready for it. Alcohol has always gotten you a little worked up. It was your mistake to believe you could fight it.

Despite the setback, you keep up with your teammate as the night goes on. Shot after shot, broken up by the easy conversation that emerges as the liquor continues to flow.

You’re not sure when the competition was forgotten, but you soon find yourself splayed on the couch next to Loki, laughing hysterically at some story he’s just finished telling about Thor in his youth. You look over at him, hazily trying to center your double vision to properly admire the god. His cheeks are flushed red from the alcohol, and he looks more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him.

Loki glances over, catching you staring, but you’re far too intoxicated to be embarrassed. Instead, you hold your gaze, waiting for a reaction. Loki smirks, then eyes his brother with annoyance.

“Brother,” he says, voice a lazy drawl. “I believe we’ve won this contest, wouldn’t you say?”

Thor cocks his head, then widens his eyes in understanding. “Oh, certainly! In fact, I think it would be necessary for me to walk you back to your quarters, Natasha.”

Natasha begins to protest, but it dies on her lips as her gaze flickers between you and Loki. “What a gentleman,” she purrs, only swaying slightly when she rises from her seat. “Lead the way.” Taking his outstretched hand, Natasha stumbles down the hall with Thor, giggling excitedly.

Now that it’s just the two of you, you expect things to get awkward, but find that you’re still just as comfortable. “Well, I guess I have to bow to the drinking champ,” you slur, sitting up to give a half hearted bow.

Loki throws his head back and laughs. “You,” he manages between snorts, “are far more fun to be around than most others on this planet.”

You scoff and wave your hand dismissively. “You’re only saying that ‘cause I bowed to you.” Chewing on your lip, you let your eyes drift back over to Loki. In your drunken haze, he just looks so...comfy. Before you realize what you’re doing, you slide over to lean up against him. Loki’s surprisingly warm, and you sigh contentedly, letting your mind wander back to how his hand felt running up your thigh.

The arousal from earlier that you had forgotten about rears its head, turning your sigh into a shaky exhale that is not at all subtle. The air feels thick, just like it had on that one stormy night, and you press yourself closer to Loki, unable to resist how good his body feels against yours.

Loki freezes for a moment, then seems to force himself to relax into you. His arm snakes around you until he’s holding you comfortably against his side. For one brief moment, you start to wonder if this is a good idea, given how things had ended in the past, but the intoxicated part of your brain tells the sober part to go fuck herself, and then you’re speaking without thinking. “Do you want to walk me to bed?”

Oh, shit. You can’t believe that just came out of your mouth. A wave of sobering panic hits you, and you untangle yourself from Loki and shoot up from the couch. Before you can flee, however, a pale hand grabs hold of your arm, stopping you in place.

Loki gets up, then moves his grip from your wrist to your hand. “I think that is a lovely idea. Allow me?” With the hand that isn’t holding yours, he gestures toward the hall. Well, that was unexpected. You try not to giggle in child-like excitement, and instead nod hurriedly.

Your heart speeds up at the feel of his hand in yours, and you start off down the hall, letting Loki pull you towards your suite. Caught up in trying to navigate the titling floor, you don’t notice that you’re being led the wrong way until the two of you come to a stop at a door that definitely does not belong to you. You look up at Loki in confusion. “This isn’t my room.”

“I know,” Loki growls, then opens the door and whirls you both inside. When you’ve recovered from the swift movement, you manage to pull away from Loki’s grip.

“What-what’s going on?” You say, attempting to sound stern. Loki stalks towards you. Instinctively, you back up, until you’re pressed against the wall with Loki boxing you in.

Loki presses his hands to the wall on either side of your head and sneers at you. “What’s going on?” He mocks. “I’ve craved your body under mine since long before our little nighttime meeting, and I have run out of patience for games.” He leans in and presses a kiss to your neck, grazing you with his teeth. Just like before, his playfulness has given way to a domineering aura, but you’re not complaining one bit.

You barely suppress a full body shiver. “But,” you protest weakly. “I, I thought you regretted it. I mean, you never said anything about it, so I figured...oh…” you trail off into a soft moan as Loki roughly licks up the side of your neck, growling.

“And when would I have gotten the chance?” Loki pulls away from his assault on your skin to look you in the eyes. “You have been avoiding me for nearly a month.” Those blue eyes are staring daggers at you, and you realize that there’s hurt behind all that frustration.

Your mouth goes dry. He’s right, but the eye contact from his smoldering stare is making you forget how to speak. Fumbling with your words, you cast your gaze downwards. “Yeah, I guess I have. But with what you said after we were interrupted....I thought you were uncomfortable with what happened.”

A dark chuckle spills from Loki’s lips. “The only discomfort you have caused me is the nights I have spent spilling over my own hand because I could not have you. ”

You gasp softly as Loki’s words send a wave of heat through your overheated body. Loki takes that as encouragement, and presses himself closer until his lips are grazing yours. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll leave,” he mumbles, eyes hooded.

Your response is to surge forward, hands flying to the back of his head as you roughly pull him in to kiss you. You both groan at the contact. The kiss is anything but gentle; your fingers are tangled in Loki’s hair, tugging harshly, and you can feel his teeth nipping at your bottom lip. It was far better than you could have imagined, and the dizzying pleasure of it all has you feeling drunker and more sober at the same time.

Before long, the room spins as Loki lifts you and hoists your legs around his waist. He kisses you breathless as he walks slowly down the hall towards what you can only assume is his bedroom. There’s a giddy part inside of you that squeals with excitement at being carried like that, but it’s quickly overshadowed by lust as you and Loki reach his bedroom. He tosses you onto his king sized bed like a doll, then kneels on the floor and yanks your ankles until your bottom is almost hanging off the bed.

Loki slides your dress up and nuzzles the inside of your thigh. “I could smell your arousal the entire night,” he says, nearly purring. “May I taste?”

You sit up on your elbows and stare down at him, face flushed with mild embarrassment at his face so close to your soaked panties. Dumbly, you nod, words failing you. Loki growls his appreciation and hikes up your dress, taking a brief moment to admire the soft fabric. “You look absolutely ravishing in green, I’ve wanted to tear this off of you since the moment I laid eyes on it.” And then he’s sliding your panties down your legs and plunging his tongue into your heat.

A ragged gasp tears its way from your throat and you throw your head back. You feel the grin form on Loki’s lips against your skin, and a fresh gush of arousal flows down your thighs. Loki eats pussy like it’s an art form he’s been perfecting for ages. His lips tug at your pussy, worshipping every fold like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have. You open your mouth to make some joke about his silvertongue, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper as Loki drags his teeth lightly across your clit.

It isn’t long before the pleasure reaches its peak.You fight hard to keep your legs from clamping around Loki’s head, but you can’t help it when you crest over the edge of orgasm. Your muscles lock up, your back arches, and you scream. White hot euphoria explodes from your core, spreading through your body like venom. Loki’s tongue works you through it, slowing to wide, long strokes as you begin to come down.

You’ve barely recovered when Loki rises from his knees and crawls up your body, coming to a stop when his face is inches from yours. His eyes are hooded, and his glistening lips are parted to allow frantic, heated pants to escape. “Pet,” he hisses, leaning down to nuzzle into your shoulder. “You taste sweeter than the fruits of Asgard.” He bites at your collarbone, making you shudder in your post-orgasmic haze.

Still out of it, you sluggishly fumble at Loki’s belt. “Wanna make you feel good, too,” you mumble and lick your lips. Loki bats your hand away, shushing you.

“Darling, there will be plenty of time for that later. Right now, I need to feel you.” He grabs your shoulders and drags you up to the pillows, so that you’re lying comfortably on your back with him hovering above you.

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of ‘later.’ So this wasn’t just a one-night stand? You don’t have time to process that, however, as Loki barely gives you a moment to breathe. He sits back on his knees, straddling your waist, and with a wave of his hand, you’re both stark naked. Your hands twitch, wanting to cover yourself. Being naked in front of an attractive man has always intimidated you, but the fact that Loki was a god made it worse. As if sensing your sudden shyness, Loki leans in to kiss at lick at your breasts, and brings his hands up to pin your wrists to the bed. You sigh in pleasure, insecurity fading with every hot swipe of his tongue, not even wanting to struggle against his hold.

Loki lowers himself to grind against you. His hard cock slides against your dripping folds as his narrow hips press into yours. Both of you shiver, and you arch your hips to bring him closer. Loki growls against your skin and sits up. He lets go of your wrists, roughly grabs your waist and angles it to meet his. “Ready, pet? I can’t wait, I need to have you.” he breathes, eyes locked on yours.

Like a deer in the headlights, you’re frozen, anticipation coiling tightly under your skin. Slowly, you nod. Loki wastes no time. He smirks, then slides himself into you, the stretch burning in the loveliest way. Your heated groan mingles with his, and when Loki’s hips come to rest against yours, he falls against your chest, panting. You appreciate the time he gives you to adjust; Loki’s cock is thick, and longer than anything you’ve ever taken, and you can feel it throbbing desperately within you. Now that he’s released your hands, you bring them up to thread through his soft, black hair. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, nearly purring.

“Tell me when, love,” Loki grits out, fighting to keep his voice steady. The shakiness in his usually smooth tone is arousing to no end, and you can feel yourself clench around him in approval. Loki’s hips twitch at the fluttering of your walls, and though you’re more than ready, you decide to torture him a bit longer.

You bring your legs up to wrap around Loki’s  waist, pulling him closer. He shivers, but keeps his composure, remaining almost statue still. His concern for your comfort makes your heart swell, but you want to see him lose control. “You’re so big,” you whimper out, the alcohol in your system quelling the embarrassment you’d usually feel when talking dirty. You press your face into Loki’s neck, grazing your teeth along the pale skin there.

With a deep growl of barely kept composure, Loki rises up to rest on his elbows, desperate eyes searching yours. It seems that being the God of Lies gave Loki the ability to see through your cruel game, and his expression turns dark, though the neediness is still blatant. You shift nervously as he stares you down, already regretting your mischievousness. “Feeling playful, are we?” Loki asks.

Your mouth goes dry at being caught and your core tightens around him again, earning you a flutter of his eyelids. “I…” you trail off, eyes drifting to Loki’s parted lips. Watching you gaze, Loki grins at you.

“Oh, pet. I think you may be confused. You are mine to toy with, not the other way around.” With that, Loki leans down to crush his lips into yours. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you whine around it. While his tongue’s distracting you, Loki takes his chance to begin pounding into you at a ruthless pace, and you break away from the kiss to throw your head back and shriek out a moan.

You feel utterly wrecked, stomach clenching and nerves alight with pleasure as Loki continues his assault on your body. Your eyes are squeezed shut, so his teeth nipping at your jaw come as a surprise, sending a whole new shockwave of sensation down your neck.

“You feel so fucking good, pet,” Loki moans, his voice quickly losing its characteristic steadyness. He sighs out something that sounds suspiciously like a whimper, and brings one of his hands down to toy with your clit. Your legs tighten around him involuntarily. “A-ah, fuck,” Loki grits out, increasing his pace.

The pleasure is overwhelming, and the unhuman speed at which Loki’s pounding into you leaves you no time to catch your breath. Moans and whines erupt from your mouth in a constant stream, and Loki keeps his mouth hovering above yours to drink them in. “I wanna cum,” you whimper as Loki’s assault on your senses continues.

“Then cum, pet,” Loki groans, hips stuttering. “ Cum for your god.”

You keen, writhing and chasing your high. As you climb up to your orgasm, you are met with a startling realization that Loki has already ruined you for anyone else. No human man could match the fire that he’s set upon your nerves, the blinding pleasure that mounts with every thrust and kiss. With that settling into your mind, you finally reach your second peak of the night.

Your eyes try to flutter shut, tears brimming at the corners as you wail Loki’s name again and again. Through the haze of your climax, you notice Loki’s muscles begin to tense as he nears his orgasm as well, and you force your eyes to stay open in order to watch him come apart.

Watching Loki cum is almost like a second climax. He speeds up impossibly, mouth hanging open and eyes barely able to stay focused on you. “You’re mine,” he growls out. Choked moans fall from his lips as he nears the edge, and you rake your nails down his back to encourage him.

“Cum in me, please, I need it, make me yours” you ramble breathlessly.

“Oh, fuck, I-I’m so close,” Loki manages, voice breaking. You continue to coo pleas and encouragements at him, and the way his eyes roll back at your wrecked voice gives you an intoxicating rush of pride. Finally, with a whimpering moan, Loki stills, cock pulsing within you and hips twitching as he pumps you full of his cum.

Loki slumps against you, still moving in aborted little thrusts, as if he can’t quite stop fucking you just yet. The weight of him on top of you is heavy, but not unwelcome, and you take the time to bask in the euphoria of having just slept with the god you’d pined after for so long.

“That was…” you start, words failing you.

“Divine,” Loki finishes for you. He slides his cock out of your pussy, and with it comes a gush of warm cum that you’re sure will stain the sheets. He rolls off of you, then guides you onto your side so that he can pull you up against him.

You weren’t expecting Loki to be the ‘cuddling after sex,’ type, so having him spoon you was surprising, to say the least. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you find yourself wanting to fall asleep like that; comfortable in his bed and safe in his strong arms.

Still, there’s a nagging question that won’t let you fully relax. Not wanting to expect too much, you brace yourself for the worst and open your mouth to speak. “Loki...what does this mean for us?”

Loki tenses behind you, and your heart breaks at the assumed rejection as he begins to pull away. “Are you...are you not mine? I thought this was-I’m sorry, I must have misunderstood. Forgive me.”

This time, your heart breaks for a different reason. Loki sounds so hurt, so unsure of everything, and you can hear a scared little boy behind that velvet voice. “No!” You nearly shout, turning around to pull him back to you. “I want to be yours, I promise,” you say as you tug Loki back into your arms, running a soothing hand down his back. “I just wasn’t sure if that’s what you wanted.”

The relief in Loki is visible as he relaxes into you. “Love, I am yours as much as you are mine, do not doubt that.”

The pet name brings a smile to your lips. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you reply happily. Heart full, you roll back over so that Loki can snuggle into you again, and finally let your drowsiness overtake you. You catch a faint, ‘I love you,’ just before you drift off to sleep, and though it could just be your mind playing tricks on you, you know that you love him, too.

[realcube]

you flinch during an argument pt2

navi | masterlist | part one

thank you to anon for this request

characters ♡ sugawara, bokuto & akaashi

tw ♡ cursing, angst, mentions of abuse, hurt to comfort, hinted ptss, mentions of ashes/cremation & parent! reader in bokuto’s

KŌSHI SUGAWARA

♡ a grimace; the expression sugawara had been wearing for the last 10 minutes as he bickered with you in the kitchen while cooking his meal prep

♡ “i just don’t understand why you need to study for hours on end. at this point, i think you’re just making excuses to avoid me.” sugawara spoke, his incomprehensible tone making it impossible for you to decipher whether he was being kind or condescending, or whether that last comment was supposed to be a joke

♡ “why would i do that?” you inquired innocently, keeping your gaze fixated on preparing your own meal. honestly, he didn’t deserve even a shred of your attention after elongating the conversation to no end. “exams are less than a week away and if i don’t pass then the last two years will have been for nothing. not that i’d expect you to understand.”

♡ you acknowledged that was a low blow, but your mind told you to just blurt out the first thing that you knew would make him shut up, and it unfortunately worked. 

♡ immediately feeling a wave of wave of regret wash over you, you shuffled over to his place at the kitchen counter, pressing your cheek to his arm to show affection before muttering, “sorry, i didn’t mean that. please don’t take it personally, kōshi.”

♡ usually an act like that would put an end to one of your silly squabbles but today was different

♡ out of the corner of your eye, you noticed something come flying towards you and — contextually — it didn’t take long for you to figure out that it was sugawara’s hand 

♡ that was enough reason your mind need to take the following course of action: your arms shot up to shield your the side of your face while your knees bent, brining you closer to the ground while your eyelids squeezed shut

♡ although after a few without the expected impact, your eyes fluttered open and you dropped your guard, allowing yourself a few moments to collect yourself before looking up at your boyfriend who’s demeanour had changed completely from a few seconds ago 

♡ now, his face was pale and his jaw was tight. as for his eyes, not so long ago they were faux-soft, now it was as if he had witnessed a crime; his pupils were constricted and his eyes were wide. he still stood tall as always but he appeared to be frozen in place, with his arm — that you had deemed a threat — looming above your head 

♡ you glanced up for a moment just to take a look, and upon noticing how his hand was cupped, you realised that his intention was to pat your head. it was a gentle gesture which he did often to show affection so you couldn’t help but wonder why you’d ever assume he was going to inflict harm on you 

♡ “(y/n)!” he finally managed to choke out, hastily retracting his hand back to his side, “are you alright?” 

♡ you were unsure as to why he was asking such a question, considering that he didn’t even lay a finger on you, but you answered none the less, “i’m fine, are you?” 

♡ it was clear that you didn’t think much of your actions, which made sugawara even more concerned. if he were to be completely honest, he wanted nothing more than to pull you into a hug and prattle on about how much he loved you and how he would protect you with his life for hours on end, but he knew that’d be an immature way to deal with such a situation so acting in an adult fashion, he stood at a respectable distance from you and spoke concisely

♡ “why’d you flinch?” he blurted out, feeling like a complete idiot as you replied almost immediately with, “i’m not sure.”

♡ your nonchalant and unaffected attitude made him wonder if he was making a big deal out of your simple action, since you didn’t seem that bothered by it at all. however, his morals spoke louder than logic and told him that he needed to resolve this issue, even you didn’t view it as such.

♡ “i swear i’d never do something like that.” was all he could think to say. so he decided it was best to stay silent right now, allowing you to head up to your room to study without another word spoken. 

♡ the next hour or so was spent trying to think of something to say to you. evidently, he was at a loss for words and all he could do was bury his face into his arms and mentally curse himself for being so confrontational over such a trivial problem

♡ eventually, he came to the conclusion that you’d probably want some space so for now, he’d allow you to study in peace and come out to talk when you are ready 

♡ but he is still sugawara, so expect there to be a place of sliced fruits outside your bedroom accompanied by a little motivational note 

KŌTARŌ BOKUTO 

♡ arguments with bokuto only came once every blue moon since you both seemed to agree almost all the time, and even when you didn’t, bokuto would either apologise within less than a minute or simply oblige because he hates seeing you mad at him, or just mad in general 

♡ but sometimes — no matter how much he apologised — you’d still resent him for whatever he did, and a part of him just felt like that was so unfair. perhaps it was a childish thought, but why can’t you just understand that he made a mistake and move on? after all, he always learns and it’s rare that he makes the same mistake twice, so why are you still angry?

♡ plus, he always forgives you immediately when you do something wrong. he just wanted the same treatment and he realised this at the worst moment possible.

♡ “saying sorry won’t fix it!” you barked, wiping away the tears as they fell from your lashline. your skin felt like it was on fire but you paid no mind, just focussing on remaining stable and not losing yourself to a crying fit, “it’s gone forever now, i hope you are happy.”

♡ bokuto seeing you upset more than anything, and knowing that he was the cause of your tears only made things worse. he felt so worthless. 

♡ the only words combatting the voice in his head telling him that he couldn’t do anything right, were the ones reassuring him that it was simply an accident and that if he had known that there were ashes in that jar, he would’ve been more careful when walking around it. 

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you.” he muttered under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear. of course, you thought you had misheard him as you knew him better than to say something so audacious, “huh?”

♡ “i don’t know why i take this from you!” he repeated, but this time he lunged forward to yell it right in your face so you’d hear him for sure. “there’s nothing i can do to fix it now, so why can’t you just forgive me?! i’m so sorry and i’d do anything to make it up to you yet you are still so fucking nasty to me! no one wants to be with a stubborn bitch!” 

♡ blinded by rage, it took him a few moments to realise that you weren’t standing as you were before he lunged at you, but rather you had stumbled backwards and were now on the ground with your hands raised in defence

♡ as much as he wanted to continue with his momentum and yell at you while you were down, his subconscious acted fist by outstretching his hand to help you up, “(y/n), why are y--”

♡ he cut himself off as something finally clicked in his mind, helping him realise that he was the reason you were on the ground. you must’ve flinched and fell backwards when he suddenly moved towards you, but why? i mean, it’s not like he was gonna hurt you. so were you just surprised? well, if you were just shocked by his movements you probably wouldn’t be defensive and appear terrified.

♡ upon coming to this conclusion, bokuto dropped down to his knees and shuffled towards you, evidently having calmed down as his cheeks were no longer red with fury and his eyebrows had separated. 

♡ “i’m so sorry.” he mused with wide-eyes, his blank expression and stare kinda scaring you as not even for a moment did he release you from his gaze.

♡ ‘sorry’ appeared to be the word of the day

♡ “i’m sorry too, kō.” you admitted, lowering your head and allowing the hair that hung down in front of your face to shield you from bokuto’s penetrating stare. “i know you didn’t break it on purpose, so of course you are forgiven.” you knew the feeling of frustration all too well, and you were ashamed that you were cause of it for bokuto.

♡ like magic, your statement pulled bokuto out of his trance and back to reality, where he was able to beam and throw his arms open to offer you a hug, “you don’t need to apologise. c’mere!”

♡ you hesitated at first, but there was truly nothing more comforting than the sight of bokuto’s bright smile and glistening cheeks under the golden sunlight which seeped in from passed the blinds; it was almost angelic. hence you found yourself leaning into his arms without a second thought, finding solace in the way his shaky breath tickled the warm skin of your neck

♡ though he didn’t say much in the moment, the image of you cowering in fear away from him will permanently be inked into his mind 

♡ but that’s not to say his words didn’t have an effect on you

♡ your kid grew up knowing endless forgiveness and tolerance from both you and bokuto, as whenever you saw your son’s golden eyes gaze up at you through a stream of tears, all you could see was bokuto, and all you could hear was him calling you a stubborn bitch 

♡ it was almost funny how your brain made that correlation, but rather than laugh, you simply smiled and kneeled down in front of your son, cupping his cheek in your hand, “it’s fine. i forgive you.”

♡ the poor boys glossy gaze flickered between you and the shards of the mug he had chosen for you scattered across the floor

♡ his teeth gritted together, presenting an expression of anguish which was only highlighted by both of his fist curling into balls before he lunged forward to throw his arms over your shoulders and bawl into your chest, “i’m so sorry!”

♡ you pouted, glancing between your son and bokuto who just stood with an awkward smile on his face, watching the scene while knowing full well that it was mostly his fault for entrusting a fragile mug to a four-year-old 

♡ although, it wasn’t as if you could stay mad at either of them; you love them too much

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ arguments with akaashi were rare. after all, communication is key in a relationship and he ensures that you both tell each other everything. hence you can see the irony in the situation where his order of transparency is exactly the reason you were so pissed off.

♡ “please tell me what’s wrong, dear.” akaashi almost whispered, trailing behind you like lost puppy while you stormed towards your front door in order to lead him out

♡ “i’m tired, i said i‘ll tell you later.” you groaned, feeling guilty for being so impatient with him but you truly didn’t have the energy to argue or explain how you were feeling tonight. really all you wanted was to get some rest and discuss everything in the morning but akaashi clearly felt like there was something deeper that needed to be unpacked first.

♡ “you say that but you’ll probably be too tired tomorrow as well.”

♡ you quirked a brow, taking a pause and leaning against your doorframe just as you were about to lock him out, “and so what if am? goodnight."

♡ “don’t be immature.” each word sharper than the last, they stung your eyes.

♡ “tomorrow, akaashi. love yo—"

♡ the next few moments were a blur. It was as though your body reacted on it’s own to seeing akaashi reach out towards your face, so without a moment of consideration, you found yourself jerking away from his touch; appearing alarmed while your heart rate skyrocketed for reasons beyond your knowledge

♡ once your mind was finally able to comprehend what happened and absorb the context, it didn’t take long for you to figure out that he outstretched his hand so he could tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ears, an act of affection he performs often yet it just happened to slip your mind

♡ akaashi yanked his arm back to his side, staring at his hand — eyes filled with disgust — as if he were presented with a murder weapon. despite that, his self-loathing was short-lived as he immediately inquired, “are you okay? do you need water?” he wasn’t really familiar with the ideal procedure he should take in a situation like this, so he used his judgment which told him that water was the solution to most problems, hence this should be no different.

♡ before you could deny his offer, he was already rummaging through his satchel in search of his water bottle, and once he found it he was quick to hand it to you

♡ after taking a few sips of water, you placed his bottle back in his bag and zipped it up for him, “thank you.” you murmured, not sure as to whether you should apologise or just play it off as if nothing happened. however, guessing by the dazed look in akaashi’s eyes, it would be safe to assume that these events have been permanently inked into his memory

♡ for the first time ever, he was truly at a loss. usually people would look to him when in trouble – or even danger – but now he was the threat, the cause of your stress

♡ perhaps it was because of how long you’ve been together, or maybe it was due to the fact you converse so often with him, but you could read akaashi like an open book. where others see a deadpan, dull setter; you see your boyfriend who is just in desperate need of affirmation from time to time

♡ a few minutes ago, you could’ve sworn you didn’t have enough energy to smile or communicate your feelings but here you were now, wearing the sweetest grin you could muster and humming in a honeyed voice, “i really do love you, keiji. and i’m not afraid of you either.” to emphasise your point, you leaned forward to plant a brief kiss on his cheek and tuck an imaginary loose strand of hair behind his ear, all while he stood speechless. not that you expected a reply anyway.

♡ “i love you too, dear.” akaashi finally uttered after an elongated period of silence.

♡ it was amazing how much you could tell simply from his eyes. his irises no longer vibrated as if they were pending an eruption, and pity behind his gaze seemed to have dissipated slightly. there was still somewhat of a glassy look to them, but he could say the same about yours.

♡ “goodnight. i’ll message you in the morning.” he smiled, mimicking the kindness in yours well as he turned around, promptly heading towards the bus stop with a final wave of his hand

♡ and he didn’t lie either. not only did he text you goodnight again, at exactly 6AM you received a notification from none other than akaashi himself reading:

♡ ‘good morning, sweetheart <3  how’d you sleep? i’m about to head to the shop, do you need anything?’

♡ although you denied his offer, he ended up buying you your favourite drink anyway

[tarosin]

did i do that p2

paring implied past platonic tommy/tubbo/ranboo x reader

tw: cursing, de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

TW: de realisation, mentions of suicide/death/paranoia

Dear quackity,

if you’re reading this, it’s too late. you’ve probably noticed me and dream are nowhere to be found, you may ask yourself why did sam let the pair out well the answer to that is simple. he didn’t i’m sure you can find what remains of him somewhere around the prison. you really have yourself to blame, now before you start to get defensive and say ‘i didn’t do anything this is bullshit everyone’s trying to attack me’ let me tell you why. before you decided to give us weekly visits just to abuse us mentally and physically, we couldn’t stand each other. I’d go as far as to say I despised dream, but you helped unite us against a common enemy..you. now we’re unstoppable. I'll spare you the details of what happened to your precious warden. see you soon - Y/n + dream :)

“do you think he’ll be convinced we killed sam?”

“dream i’m in here for the murder of a child, of course he’s going to believe it.”

of course the pair of you didn’t actually kill sam, dream simply manipulated ranboo whilst he was enderwalking into bringing supplies you’d need. you have no idea how he managed, but at this point you didn’t care. you know damn well you shouldn’t be in this prison as you didn’t kill michael. you knew this because the ghost, at least you hope it’s his ghost and that your mind wasn’t messing with you, would stand in the corner of the cell telling you that it wasn’t you who murdered him that night. It was a range of factors: the skeletons, fear, pure exhaustion of trying to run from the mobs after him. you often found yourself ranting to dream about what you had been seeing every night for the past god knows how many months at this point, but alas it was no use. he swore he hadn’t seen anyone but you, occasionally sam, and quackity, definitely not the ghost of michael. It was now midnight according to the clock hanging on the wall. the plan was pretty simple, you would scream that dream had disappeared, causing sam to run into the cell, from then you’d use the rope ranboo gave dream to make temporary handcuffs, and whilst you all make your way to the locker room, where you’d temporarily keep sam assuming quackity would find him sooner or later, then that was it you’d finally be free.

“ready?” you nodded and dream hid in the corner, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being watched, but nevertheless you began screaming that dream disappeared, laughing to yourself as you heard the platform moving towards the cell.

“y/n calm down what do you mean- dream get off of me i don’t want to have to kill you but i will!”

dream rolled his eyes as you tied sams hands together.

“shut the fuck up sam, do you understand how pathetic you sound? you’re outnumbered you’re not going to do anything. if you know what’s good for you and your beloved quackity, you’ll tell us which pocket has your key cards in, okay?” this seemed to trigger something in sam as within 10 minutes you and dream had him in the locker room.

“bye sam, i’m sure your boyfriend will come and collect you soon enough, we left him a letter in the cell and a note from you where you always sit saying to just go on through, don’t miss us too much!”

there you both stood, in-front of the now locked locker room, no home, no friends, no plan, but you were free, that's all that matters to you.

“dream, i have something to ask, okay? promise no matter whatever happens, whether you don’t see me for weeks or you over hear something, you won’t come looking for me.“

“stay safe y/n, a lot of people aren’t going to be happy you’re out. whatever you do, avoid quackity.”

and just like that you went your separate ways, where dream went, you have no idea, you’ll probably hear something soon enough. as for you, well you didn’t really have a plan, you weren't really sure you wanted to be alive at this point. there was a little voice that sounded a lot like tommys ringing in your head, telling you to go to the old base you and tommy made years ago, so that’s where you went. you were clinging onto the hope tommy would be there and let you explain what happened that night, you’d make up then just like old times you’d plait his hair, as the pair of you sat under moonlight listening to whichever disk tommy felt like playing that night. this of course wasn’t the case, instead you were met with previous memories of your friendship. a photo book lay in the middle of the floor as if someone knew you escaped and would go to this base, you shut the door locking it behind you for your own safety, remembering what ranboo said to you the day you were thrown in the prison. picking up the photo book you noticed something odd, the words ‘i know what you did’ and ‘i know where you are’ were scratched into the leather cover. you threw the book onto the floor scared as hell. after you calmed down, you picked the book up from the floor, which was now open on the page of a group photo of you tommy and michael, which ranboo had taken the day you both agreed to babysit him for a while. as you flicked through the book, the images got dark. It went from photos of you tubbo ranboo and tommy laughing at the beach to the night michael was killed. the last page made your blood run cold, there was two photos, one was of michaels funeral, and the second was a picture of you sat in the middle of the base holding the photo book. this was the final straw. You were no longer in control of your breathing, you began feeling like you were being preyed on by something who really wasn’t happy with you and wanted you gone, you picked up the book one last time and everything was gone. the book was back to normal no threatening messages no pictures of michaels death or of you looking through the book, the cover was back to its original state full of happy memories of when you were friends with everyone, back when you were happy.

“hello y/n.”the rooms temperature dropped suddenly you began feeling like you were being watched, you turned around to see michael sat on the floor holding a photo book a lot like the one that caused you to panic.

“hey y/n why are my parents acting like they can’t see me anymore? this isn’t funny anymore, i miss them. can you talk to them?”

“michael... this isn’t real. you’re not real. GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

everything went silent as if the world stopped turning for a few seconds, that’s when you heard the child laughing.

“what do you mean i’m not real? of course i am!”

“michael darling, you're dead remember, we spoke about this in prison. the skeletons shot you in the nether”

you continued talking to michael, not even realising ranboo had followed you to the base and was watching you talk to the wall.

“who are you talking to?”

you honestly didn’t know whether you felt relieved he was there with you or if you were pissed he found you, either way you ran to him pulling him into a hug despite him constantly telling you to let go of him.

“michael, he’s over there.”

“Is this some sick joke? There's no one there. he’s dead. you killed him!”

“ranboo please.. you, you don’t understand i didn’t kill him. please just let me explain what happened. he was surrounded by skeletons. they shot him please, you have to understand I loved that boy, I still do, I would never do something like that!”

“save it y/n, i don’t want to hear it now if you don’t mind i’m going to go tell sam that you have somehow escaped.”

you fell to your knees as ranboo walked away, you sat alone with the quiet comprehension of the ending of it all before realising if someone comes back you would be in big trouble, just before you was about to begin the long walk back to dream he showed up to the base you were currently crying in, not knowing tubbo and ranboo were not far behind him listening in to your conversation with dream.

“dream please i’m begging at this point. Please end my suffering. I can't do this anymore, no one’s listening to me. I CAN'T KEEP LIVING LIKE THIS! there’s a bow and arrow in that chest over there.”

“y/n, this isn’t a funny joke.”

“dream, do i look like i’m joking?”

“y/n..”

“hey, what can you say? we were overdue.”

tubbo and ranboo couldn’t believe what they were hearing right now, their best friend was about to die and there was nothing they could do about it. as soon as they heard dream open the chest, they ran as fast as they could to go and get tommy.

dream left straight away, it was hard to feel regret when you’re used to bloodshed. tommy couldn’t believe what tubbo and ranboo said and was convinced they were messing with him.

“Oh, I'm sure they did. how’d they get out the prison? did they fly out?”

he stood laughing, tubbo stood staring in disbelief, ranboo stood wiping his eyes trying not to cry knowing it would scar if he did. tubbo shook his head and grabbed his husbands hand for comfort.

“you’re really joking at a time like this?”

“we should tell phil.”

the three of them made their way to phil, guilt following them as they went they couldn’t believe what just happened. after they told phil, they all made their way to the base. as soon as the three teenagers saw the trail of blood dream left behind, they completely broke down and began walking, holding onto each other in an attempt to convince themselves this didn’t happen, and that you would be there. phil went in and saw your lifeless body laying there, knowing the others wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you like this, he sent them away to go and get technoblade. A few days later they found themselves sitting with puffy explaining what happened and what you had told them. realisation slowly hit them that you did in fact not kill michael, they felt awful the three of them couldn’t sleep since the day you passed. after the funeral, they often found themselves at your house as it was the only place that they could sleep and feel as though you were still with them. everyday they would visit your grave, placing anything they found that reminds them of you, and would apologise for not believing you sooner. now you were gone and there was nothing they could do about it.

tags:

@bozowrites

[tartt9]

@harmsdealer // The laugh doesn't surprise Jamie; he can laugh at himself in this regard, too. His childhood worship of Roy Kent is something he used to have to hide away, in his bedroom, in his house, on the estate, but the second he set foot off of it, in public, well... Jamie Tartt bled City blue. No one knew about his affection and fondness for Kent, unless you really observed his play, saw how nearly identical to Kent's Tartt's was, minus all of the violence. Jamie Tartt was no hard man, he never was, and never will be. But he is Kent's protégé, through and through. Funny how things change.

"You thought it were just marketing?" he asks, genuinely surprised to hear that. He supposes it'd be fucking fantastic marketing, Jamie lathering praise onto Roy over and over, creating an image for the public of the very coin they were; heads and tails, 6 and 9, mirror images of each other. "Fuck, y'must think I'm a dead good actor, then."

He gives a little shrug, chewing his spearmint gum behind a smile. "Didn't work out for that kid at first, I mean... everybody's seen the footage, it still comes across my For You Page pretty often. One of my first senior yellow cards, me'n him fighting on the pitch. And if people thought that were bad, they should've seen us in the dressing room." The grin on his face is nostalgic, now. He was a prick. But he was a prick who managed to get Roy Kent's attention on him whenever he wanted it. Even if Roy was dismissive of him, or straight up disliked him, Roy never said he was a bad footballer. Roy praised him, and that was all Jamie wanted. He could tune out the rest of the words after your right foot was kissed by god.

Worked out in the end, though, didn't it. Roy's hugged him publicly, now. Roy's said kind things about him in pressers, with only fond eye rolls to accompany his words, no disclaimers, no addendums, no added insults after the praise. Jamie deeply admires Roy as both a player and a coach, and Roy seems to like Jamie, too. Roy wakes up just as fucking early as Jamie does, if not earlier, so they can train together. And Jamie'll never be able to express his gratitude for that.

Jamie can't help but laugh at Kei's story about the Olympic fencer. He reaches up, fingertips brushing through the ends of his hair, before his hand drops back down to his bag strap, nodding. "One time, Roy told me the way I play is dull and conformist. In this hallway, actually, right down there." He points a finger, an equally fond glint in his eye. "Told me I didn't deserve t'be coached by him 'cause of it. Wore 'im down eventually, though, didn't I." I am an ugly, ugly boy with bad hair. And if a little minor degradation [ plus some Ted Lasso intervention ] is what it takes to be as great as Jamie is now, he'd say it again a million times over. Even if he wouldn't tell Roy he'd say it again.

"But hey, your Olympian - Bastos, y'said? - if he knew your footwork were... grotesquely stiff..." Jamie doesn't really know what grotesquely means, but he'll look that up when they part ways. He's already mentally thanking Siri for the fact that he doesn't have to figure out how to spell it - "That means he'd watched y'work. I'd consider that a win."

His head tilts to the side as he thinks back to Pep telling him about the loan. His very first thought had, indeed, been Roy Kent plays for Richmond. I'll be playing with Roy Kent. It had made signing the paperwork a lot easier for him. He wanted to play with him, wanted to hear a pundit say Kent, into the box for Tartt, Tartt off his right foot, goal! Another goal for Richmond! AFC Richmond is on fire! Of course, that never happened. Richmond remained as mediocre as they were before Jamie's arrival, Kent rarely passed to him, Jamie was a prick to Roy, and Roy was a prick back. Of course that team dynamic hadn't been there.

"Yeah, I mean, but fencing's an individual sport, ain't it? There's really no... competing alongside each other the way there is with football." He can't really picture team fencing. That just seems dangerous. A bunch of people with swords all coming at each other at once... the word for that, in Jamie's mind, is war.

The question is another one that makes him think. Jamie knows statistics, he knows exactly what Roy's stat lines read. He's already nearing a few of Roy's records - goals scored in the Premier League, goals scored in the Champions League. Assists in the Prem and the Champions League are both slightly further away, but Jamie's rapidly approaching those, too. "I'll never break his yellow card record. Or his red card one," he jokes, rocking back and forth on his heels slightly, a grin on his face.

"But, in all honesty - don't know. I ain't a mind reader. He's the one that offered t'train me t'make me the best of all time, though. If he didn't want me breakin' his records, he would've never offered." At least, Jamie likes to think that's the case. Roy keeps training him, and Jamie keeps working, and, yes, someday, Jamie'll overtake his records. "Just gotta hope he stays dead proud of me. Cause I ain't gonna slow down for his honour's sake. Hopefully his pride won't be too injured, knowin' he's the one who helped shape me into the player I am today."

@tartt9 / Of course, Kei had expected to hear some mention of Roy Kent peppered in there, maybe sandwiched between lip service to Terry or Lampard—or even the Special One. After all, it's tricky to find recent coverage of Tartt that doesn't involve Kent in some way. It must be good for ticket sales, this public image they contrive together: the oracle and his dazzling apprentice. But what Tartt says is so single-minded that Kei thinks the zealotry can only be genuine.

What a strange club. What a bizarre way to run a business. Everyone here seems to mean what they say, and it takes Kei by surprise when he hears laughter leaving his own mouth.

Few things prompt him to laugh when he doesn't plan to; it's even rarer the sound is wrenched from him with any authenticity. This time, it isn't unkind, but it's less polished than he would've preferred. He presses a fist sheepishly to his mouth, like he's following up on a bad cough instead of trying to obscure a smile.

"That's," he says, then pauses, looking for any word that isn't the first which springs to mind. He fails to find anything more suitable. "That's sweet. I thought it was fantastic marketing, but now I can see it—the awestruck little kid glued to the television. Lucky it worked out for that kid, too, because you know what they say about meeting your heroes."

An implication lurks behind his tone that he's talking from experience, but he pauses on the cusp of elaborating. Offering anything like a personal story could place him at the mercy of search engines: Kanacorp plus fencing equals only Keiichiro. Kei doesn't expect Tartt cares enough to look him up, though, and even if he does—well, whatever. The man who is obviously a corporate agent happens to be the son of another, larger corporate agent: hardly the plot twist of the century.

There will be no cartoonishly evil scandals to find either, though boats are the least deadly of Kanacorp's offerings. That distinction goes to the war machines. But they're such a distant part of the company that Kei's presence here is calculated: how precious can a billion-pound club really get about the brands on its Away strips?

"See, I used to fence," he says, miming a rather restrained lunge. It's a good thing for the nearby trophy case that his sword is imaginary. "I met a retired Olympian once at a tournament—Délio Bastos, someone I really admired—and when I told him that, he called my footwork grotesquely stiff."

The glint in Kei's eye suggests he holds the memory fondly. Something which had devastated him at the time now serves a purpose as an anecdote, which is of much greater utility to him than a measly human connection could've been. Still, he realises the analogy doesn't quite fit.

"But it's a brave choice, isn't it? If someone had offered me the chance to compete beside him when he was active—I'd have sooner faked my own death." His next thought is uttered like it should be a joke, but comes out a little too pointed. There must be something of the cutthroat tradition of sport still lurking here, he thinks. "How confident are you he'll still be cheering you on when you smash all his records?"