#i love the horror of looking at someones face. someone who is supposed to guide you. and seeing your own face looking back.

[bengallemon]

WARNING. IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS FOR ACT SIX'S BOSS:

---

The Favour Tree stands tall. Impossibly tall, scraping against the darkening sky.

It is darker at the centre. The Stars hang within it.

It feels like you are staring at into the depths of the Universe.

It is staring back at you.

You feel like the Universe is laughing at you.

You feel like the Universe is crying at you.

You feel like the Universe is crying for you.

You.

…

But which You?

There is two of You.

You were staring at another You.

Even if their face was not yours. Even if it was one of the Stars you hold dear.

It was You.

The same body. The same flesh, blood and bones. The same muscle tissues, all the same body systems. The same eyes. The same being. The exact. Same. You.

Loop was so angry with you, weren’t they? You get to succeed where they could not. You get to be with your family where they can not. You get to have the life they were supposed to have.

No wonder Loop tried to kill you, huh?

You got everything, they got nothing. Nothing but a little coin.

And it’s not like you were kind to them, really. Considering what you said to Loop before you ended up in the House alone.

Loop tried to kill you and take your place.

You never wanted to kill them. They’re still You, after all.

You don’t hate yourself like that ~!

…

You panicked.

They lunged at you and you panicked.

Red eyes in your face and you panicked.

You shot your hands out in front of you.

And grabbed.

A n d

y o u

t o r e

It is dark now.

The bottom of the Favour Tree is light. Except for the blood. The roots you and Loop used to sit on and talk to each other are covered in it. The Red stands out so starkly against everything.

You stand before it. There are the fragments of a Star scattered around the body, around where the head must be. The shades have faded into a dull almost darkless grey.

You look at the face of who you killed.

And Siffrin’s face stares back, the eyes are blank, and you feel nothing.

[tamsinbeybey-she-no-porcupine]

Poor Havers.

Obviously poor Cap as well because he died

But fml poor Havers.

Being wounded after the war, having seen the horrors of the front line, then seeing Cap again realising that he isn't supposed to be there and that he smuggled himself in, Havers probably panicking because they are surrounded and every sign of affection is a high risk. And then someone confronts the man who is clearly trying to get to him and Cap collapses and basically tries to confess his love and Havers has to keep him from putting them both in danger but wants him to know that He reciprocates so he says he knows and stops him from touching his face but guides him to grab the swaggerstick so he can grab his hands. which is such a smart idea because of course a dying and scared man grabs at something and of course one has to provide comfort to loosen the grip. And then they say each others first named and the second Cap is dead he has to release his hand or else it would be suspicious. And he has to do this with a straight face.

I wonder when he finally was allowed to shed a tear, to mourn, to fall apart

I'm by now completely convinced that he went to the front to protect them both because Cap really wasn't that subtle

And Havers looked out for both of them even in Cap's final moments

It's just so tragic. Cap lost his life but Havers lost so so much as well

I really, really want to know what happened to him afterwards.

[cambion-companion]

BG3 Companions on a Halloween Date

YES I was itching to do something for the BG3 gang for the season. You could say it's been bugging me. Hah. Ok sorry it's the influence of my pfp.

Let's start with

You want a cozy night in under the covers, watching scary movies (or puppet shows or whatever the heck is the equivalent in Faerun) but he's not sold on the idea. "I've seen enough horror to last me several lifetimes, darling."

Instead Astarion would take you out in the crisp Autumn air, under the distant sun, for a walk crunching through the dried leaves of brown and red.

He'd want to go to the pumpkin patch to find the perfect gourd for a Jack-o-Lantern.

When the sun set so very early in the afternoon, you'd retire back to your cozy abode and set to carving faces into your pumpkins.

Astarion of course would make short work of his, dexterous as ever with those knives, and he would do his best to shape the face into what he hopes he looks like.

Either that or, depending on where you're at in his character arc, he'd remake Cazador BEFORE gutting it and making a whole show of utterly eviscerating the poor Halloween decoration. "Astarion, this is supposed to be relaxing." "This IS my ideal downtime."

You want someone who will snuggle under the covers and watch Hocus Pocus with you? Wyll is your man. But sorry I'm trying to keep to a less modern AU.

Wyll seems like the kind of guy who would put on some fitting music as you two cooked together, dancing in the kitchen intermittently and almost forgetting to check on the cookies before they burned.

He's such a sweetheart, checking to make sure you're happy with just spending an evening indoors with him. "We can go out on the town if you desire, sweetheart." "No, Wyll, I've told you this is absolutely perfect."

Depending on the choices you've made with him thus far, Mizora might pop in to dip her finger in the batter and bamf out again, giving ya'll a cheeky wink. "Ta ta, love imps. You make me physically ill."

Sigh, you're back for more bones hm?

Alright I'll entertain you.

You ask Withers to dance to Spooky Scary Skeletons. He looks at you, unimpressed. "Get thee hence." "Wilt thou harass someone else?"

Ideally I would propose and she'd say "yes". Oh what? Sorry, I was miles away.

For a Halloween date. Hm. A corn maze. Definitely.

She'd be all about her tutelage under Shar's freaks followers and want to show off her sneaking skills.

It would turn into a game of hide-and-go-seek and then it'd get a little creepy before she'd inevitably pounce on you and you'd end of in a fit of laughter together.

"I wasn't going to hurt you!" "Well, Shaddy, sometimes I wonder." "Good to keep you on your toes, then." "Careful, I saw a pond on the way in."

Then you two would go and get some candied apples and chat about memories and flowers that bloom in the gloaming.

Oh Gale.

He'd love to read to you out of a classic gothic novel (cough cough Dracula cough cough) while you two cozy up under some blankets.

He'd probably get fresh with you and run a hand up your leg or something, OH SORRY this is post the patch that fixed that? OK. He'd wait an extra hour.

Tara would curl up next to you and listen as he read from the book, the firelight crackling and warming your bodies as the night grows dark outside.

Afterward he would ask if you'd like to be guided into the Astral plane where you can look down on the All Hallow's Eve festivities below.

yeah, gotta give Tiefling daddy some love. Especially since I still feel bad for massacring them all my last playthru.

Zevlor is another who has seen his fair share of horror, and he would opt to do something more lighthearted with you for a Halloween date.

He seems like a family kind of man, so I expect he would invite the whole gang over for a delicious dinner. Mol and her friends, Arabella and her parents. Rolan and Zorru and maybe even Auntie Ethel will sneak in there. Then it really WOULD be a Halloween experience.

After the dinner and the guests are snoozing or already left he'd wrap an arm around you and pull you close. "Would you accompany me outside? I would like to show you the stars and tell their tales. It's been so long since I've gotten to properly admire them. Or you."

Of course I have to include the daddy devil, who do you think I am?

Raphael would take you to a haunted house, of course. OF COURSE.

Hell, what better house that is haunted than the House of Hope?

It would be horrifying for you, since the no touching rules don't apply there, and most amusing for him.

You'd practically climb the cambion in your efforts to avoid the ghosties, especially that one who constantly says "huuuurt meeee, pleeeaaase."

Raphael would enjoy watching you squirm, and remind you such a fate would not be yours only IF you followed his rules.

Oh yeah, and maybe if you're lucky, or perhaps very unlucky, he'll invite you to his Boudoir.

Oak Father frowns on dissecting pumpkins for the sake of creating superfluous lanterns (or something...I heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend, ok)

Instead, Halsin would druid craft you vines and harvest fruits in whatever shapes, sizes, and colors you desired.

He'd also want to go trick or treating so BADLY. "But Halsin, you're eight feet tall and built like a linebacker. No one is going to mistake you for a kid." Then he'd cast Disguise Self and you'd be forced to take him out on the town in hunt of candy.

Poor guy didn't have much of a childhood and wants to experience the finer things in life. Get those king sized candy bars...just once.

You are a bit huffy, having expected a more...romantic evening than this. But he'll make it up to you later winkwonk , till you can bearly stand it.

Aw

You guys would get all CUTE and gussied up together.

Go out on the town.

Pick the best looking victim to be a sacrifice to Lolth.

Wait...what?

[homesickn]

My Heart

Soft!dark Loki x Reader. (Ghostface!Loki)

Loki is your special guide on an acting play in Asgard. How will it turn out? It will certainly be a Scream!

(Scream-inspired, ghostface!Loki, he's a bit obsessive too, who could have guessed?)

Warnings: this fic is exclusively explicit +18, a lot of blood, Dom!Loki, angst (at least reader cries a lot), stalking, Loki is a bit mean at times, blood kink, murder, psychological horror, possessive Loki, obsessive Loki, dark!Loki, scared reader. Be safe! ;)

You were fixing your hair and taking a look at the fancy dressing options for the official play, taking place in the center of Asgard, a place properly dedicated for cultural artistic exposition.

A bunch of the most famous actors throughout all of Asgard were coming to interpret roles in the huge theater near the castle, as an official tradition. Asgard is often envied in the matter of culture and in their specific field of acting art.

You've never felt more treasured, it surely felt gifting to be able to experience such an unique phenomenon, to be invited to such a thing.

And you're human. It feels a whole lot to you.

Far away from your home on Earth.

As much as it bothered you, you had to keep your mind off the annoying sting in your chest. You came here for an honorable reason, to represent as a Midgardian diplomat, settled by Thor to help him with his rules and studies for Asgard and the other realms, as he already knew you, he thought you to be the perfect fit. You don't want to disappoint.

But this loneliness is unlike any other, you can't help but wonder how your family and friends are doing, at home. You could fully say with conviction that the only friend you have is the godly Avenger that swore to protect you through your journey out of your original realm.

You were okay with it, until you had to get down and face the real world. You wore the very detailed white royal dress that most appealed to your eyes, and went downstairs to meet with the known blond just waiting for your presence, awkwardly messing with his…formal, hero cape.

He says your name with hesitance, “I'm so sorry, my friend. I truly am, I won't be able to attend the event,” he expresses, you frown and press your hand to your heart.

“What? You're the only friend I have here, am I supposed to go alone?” You're quick to ask.

“You can go with Loki,” he mentions the dark prince, you blink.

Loki wasn't a bad man to you, from what you've known of him, you're not a judgemental person, you don't like going for other people's words. But he's known on Earth for being a murderer, you watched the news, even though you weren't present during the attack you still could feel the pain that all those victims went through. It felt like you're betraying them, like you're hurting them by thinking of befriending the god.

However, since you've shown up on Asgard, Loki has been nothing but amicable to you. You just hesitated considering him a friend, whatsoever, he's a person you've —unfortunately — come to admire.

Whenever he passes by your sight is attached to him, as if you've been hypnotized, he's charming, pleasing to be around, your sense of humor matches a lot from what you've had the pleasure of discovering of him.

“Loki?” You repeat, letting the name echo through the walls of the castle. You're momentaneously afraid you've summoned him with the name.

“Yes, he's not too bad,” Thor looks a bit embarrassed of having to state so. “He's kind when you spend time with him, I know he'll treat you well. And if there's one thing my brother loves more than anything, is the events that involve acting around here. You have to see just how bright his eyes sparkle when he watches the plays, and this one in particular is one of his favorites. We used to watch it with father when we were younger.” 

You were now enchanted by Thor's description, your eyes shining at the idea of having someone acknowledged to teach you more of something you already enjoy so much, you're also a huge fan of acting, and theatrical acting was a hidden passion you've always adored. 

The thought of Loki liking this so much excites you, because you love surrounding yourself with enthusiastic people, you love seeing them being passionate about what they love. You thought it wouldn't be so bad to have a guide, it is definitely a better option than to go just by yourself, or to refuse and stay in bed for the day.

“Well…” You think for a second, looking around then coming back to Thor. “I don't see why not.” You shrug your shoulders, the blond god gives you a bright smile and says he'll catch him for you.

You wait at the entrance, looking all like a real princess waiting for her prince to take her to a royal ball. 

“This is too fancy for me,” you look down at yourself, somehow feeling a sense of imposter syndrome. Feeling unbelonging, too human for this, it's way more than you could ever dream of. “I shouldn't be here.” 

“Now, why would you say such a thing?” A low soft voice asks you from nowhere, you jolt as you turn quickly, recognizing the owner of the voice.

Loki gulps as he shares eye contact with you, glancing down at your pretty dress, you take a moment to appreciate his beautiful princely outfit, black and green, with tiny golden sparkling details. His body seemingly just fit for the measures of the clothes, you think you've lost your breath for a second. 

He smirks as he catches you staring.

“Princess?” Your heart flutters a little, you swear your legs feel a bit shaky from the endearment. 

“I'm not a princess,” you hurry to correct, your cheeks heating up against your will.

“You look just like one. You can be a princess, and if you don't like it, you have the experience for the night.” He offers his hand to you with a charming smile.

“No one would believe I'm a princess, prince Loki.” You challenge him.

“They will if I treat you like one,” he licks his lips and his eyes give you such softness you could melt again. Another pang, the betrayal, the attack on Earth.

You're the one to gulp nervously now, taking your eyes off of him and looking to the road ahead.

“You don't need to, it's fine,” and you quickly hurry to change the subject before he can protest. “Shall we go? Otherwise we'll miss the time. Nobody likes being late.”

★

You and Loki arrive at the festival together, getting off the carriage, he offers his hand again when you're exiting, like a true gentleman.

There's a lot of drinking, dancing, and singing. The theater is still empty waiting for the actors to arrive. Your excitement is likely palpable, Loki could swear he feels it radiating off of you. 

“It's okay, princess,” he says loud enough for others to hear, placing his arms around you. You blush but refuse to protest, he gives you a knowing look and a mischievous smile. “We can have our fun before the show. Let me show you around all the cultural Asgardian beauty.”

They had a lot of variable types of drinks, a lot of dancing presentations for people to watch, and the singers had the most amazing intonations that your ears could be blessed to hear. You couldn't believe how lucky you were, to be able to humanely get in touch with the art from the gods themselves.

The harp brought an etheric touch to all the singing, the harsh intoning of the words whilst they sung something in their native languages, deep voices to match their godly vocal chords. Be it from the realm they were, your heart clenched in delight from all the admiring.

Loki was an impeccable guide, showing you some popular dishes, giving you the most delectable desserts, and watching the performances with you. Thor was right, you could see the special touch he had with art, it was as if he forgot everything else around him when he got close to it. 

“This play will be my favorite,” he musters and you stop to listen, carefully. His voice is low but the smile he's wearing really makes you interested in what he has to say. It's like a secret you're two are sharing.

“What's the name of the play?” You couldn't believe Thor hadn't told you this before, you felt a bit ignorant towards the conversation. Loki puts his hands on your back again to calm your nerves down.

“The Masquerade,” he almost whispers. Like a real secret, almost as if he could read you.

“Oooh,” you teasingly express. “The Masquerade, such an interesting name, will they wear the masks?” For a second you feel dumb to ask, Loki only laughs a little and rubs your back to comfort you.

“Yes, yes, they will. I truly hope you find it as beautiful as I do.” His eyes sparkle with a sprinkle of mischief among the kindness. 

“I probably will,” you say more to yourself than to him. If he thinks it's beautiful, there's one more reason for you to like it, there's a special key to the piece, they caught someone's love before you've met it. “What's it about, anyways?”

He looks down at you due to the height difference and brings his gaze back to your eyes, deep piercing blue staring right into you, you feel a bit sick from the closeness. 

“It's…uhh,” he pauses, a bit sheepish, you never thought you'd see the infamous, 'evil' god of mischief looking embarrassed to talk about something he loves. He clears his throat. “It talks about several people meeting at a Masquerade ball, one of them, the leader, —who is the murderer, but it's a fact unknown to the characters of the play— wears a mask that resembles the face of a comical ghost, it may sound a bit silly, but it's really symbolic. It has the horror of course, putting the thrill aside.” He still blushes to say.

He continues.

“The thrill of having to discover who is responsible for the murders whilst everyone worries because their lives are at risk, you don't know which ones you trust, there's just…something about it that makes me terrified, I think that's why I'm so invested in the story.” He manages to explain to you. “But I really like it, I've even read the scripts before, a few times. I had the pleasure of reading the original one when it was created.”

Your eyes widen as he says it all. “I love these kinds of things! The mystery!” You exclaim. “I love it, and we'll get to see who's actually the murderer at the end, right? Sometimes I tend to get my intuitions wrong,” you joke.

He chuckles, a bit surprised. “Yes, of course. Where would be the fun if we never get to know who did it all?”

“And you're quite old, huh?” You give a teasing smile, he shakes his head, smiling too. “You know so many things from so many years ago.”

“Don't let this disappoint you, I hope.” There's a glint and the softness he always presents to you. You feel queasy, you feel happy. “Your mortality is not an issue here.”

As the festival went on, even the Warriors did their own little stunt to occupy the time, but the actors never arrived. You were starting to get a bit restless, you wanted to watch the show and you feared you wouldn't get to see what Loki so lovingly shared with you.

Everybody gave out a gasp of exasperation when all the lights of the event were turned off. People immediately sighed a bothered "blackout", but even the candles were blown off, leaving everyone in a sea of darkness swallowing all the excitement there was before.

“We can't enjoy the event without lights!” One of the warriors complained, you couldn't quite remember his name.

“Why can't I light the candle? The fire just doesn't lit,” someone complained loudly. “Where is a God of Fire when you need one?”

“I bet that's all because Thor's not here!”

You turn your head around the annoyed complaints of the people, listening to them all in confusion. Loki made sure to appease everyone telling us that we should all stay calm, that the problem will probably be solved soon.

“How could we know? We can't trust this snake!” Someone screamed, pointing at Loki.

“I'm the prince, and I was raised to rule,” Loki had a stern expression as he spoke. “Whether you like it or not, it's true. As Thor is gone for now, I will listen to all the complaints you have.”

“I bet he did it on purpose!” An old Asgardian lady yelled behind the crowd.

“Why would I? I have nothing to gain from this, it's just more of a headache for me,” he said annoyed now, he probably couldn't handle accusations when all he was trying to do is enjoy something he loves.

“He wanted to watch the show like everybody else,” you awkwardly meek the words out, you felt ashamed as soon as they came out and the people looked at you.

“This trickster has watched the same play a thousand times!” Someone gestured rudely with their hands. “He knows every detail probably, he's not doing anything for us.”

“Silence!” Loki orders, “I will not tolerate insolence! You wish to complain, you do so, but meanwhile, I'll put my best efforts to fix the issue.”

You thought the blackout was going to last for maybe a few minutes, but after a while with each sound of nature echoing throughout the open space, you questioned if you're wrong after all. Why was everyone still in the dark? The complaints were now too loud for your ears.

And the worst part is that you've lost sight of Loki. You remind yourself of some old men pulling him by his sleeves, you try to remember what the men's faces looked like, but it remains unsuccessful.

Your heart is quaking with anxiety, he was your only access to hanging out around Asgard, without Thor around or his trusted brother, you feel completely at loss. 

Furiously looking around the place to check if there's anything you can find, whilst others are starting to grab their things to go away.

A sudden light hits the entire circle, a brighter light stinging the people's sight and coming from the theater stage. You hiss and move your gaze, trying to fathom what it's going on.

“The actors are never going to come.” Says a terrified man among the crowd, he's gasping as he looks at the empty stage. What does he mean by that? “Where's the King?! Where's Thor?!”

“We have to run!” An old lady screams, bumping your shoulders as she runs in the opposite direction, grabbing all her stuff. You're still confused but you recompose yourself and immediately try to go somewhere darker.

You scramble through your mind to think of where Loki may be at, you don't want to imagine him suffering with any possible attacks. And your eyes fickle to the golden castle sticking close to the theater area. 

You imagine that's the place where they might've taken Loki to, so you run there, readying yourself to the presence of an unquiet Loki, or maybe a tired, questioning Thor, wondering what all the fuss is about, both the princes immediately trying to solve the problems. You'd run and embrace yourself in the feeling of safety around their presence.

Instead of that, the castle was all empty, you knitted your eyebrows as your skin shivered from the cold you felt in the air. The golden castle has never been so cold, and it seems all the lights have gone out here too.

You're alone. There are no palace staff even, no cooks, no nurses, the princes are nowhere in sight. Alone. And it frightens you, you feel the loneliness ripping your bones as you wonder if staying with the angry mob would be a greater idea than trying to come to the castle.

You hear a ringing way too loud for the quiet atmosphere, you recognize the sound of your cell phone ringing. You run to where your temporary room is, and grab the vibrating phone in your hands. 

You're puzzled, it's odd. It isn't supposed to function, it never does. Who would want to call you when you're so far from Earth? 

Nobody here has a phone connection, so why does it work? Could it be someone from Earth calling you?

You'd probably ask Thor about this later, but you see the number is unknown. You ask yourself if it's possible for the marketing programs to call you even from another realm of distance. You muffle a small laugh as your mental joke eases your nerves.

You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.

“Hello?! Is anybody there??!” The raspy male voice questions frantically, it seemed almost robotic, sounding like they're out of breath, you can hear a tiny sob coming from the other line.

“Y-yes, who is it?” You shiver as you listen to your own voice ringing in the closed room.

“Please! Please help me!” The weird voice pleads you. “Please, I found this device out in the blackout, I don't know where I am. But I have you. Please help me.”

You try to shush him calmly. But you're scared as you're still alone, and the voice calling you sounds male but unrecognizable. 

“Look I'm sorry, I'm not a person you should be calling right now, I'm really lost too.” You try to explain peacefully, your chest aching from feeling useless. “Please, forgive me,” You hang up.

Seconds later as you ready yourself to leave, organizing all the important stuff, there's the ringing again. You groan loudly and answer the call.

“Hello?!”

“Are you alone?” He asks, giving another sob through the line. “I'm sorry if you are, I just feel uneasy.”

“I'm packing my things to go face an angry mob of people. Why did you call me back? I told you I can't help you.”

“You'd rather face some angry people than help me?” He asks, quite stressed, all of a sudden sounding a bit angry. Your body stills on the spot.

“I don't know who you are!” He sighs as he hears you.

“That's fair.” A silence rings. You sigh and hang up again.

As you walk out the room, the phone rings again.

“I was testing you, I know a woman that's alone shouldn't come around to help people they don't know, you're really smart.”

“Is it you again?” You ask out of patience.

“What are you doing now?” He sounds more curious.

“I told you, I'm packing my things.”

“Why are you lying to me?” You freeze.

“...Excuse me?” You look around and check if there's anyone that saw you leave your room. “Also, wait. How do you know I'm alone? I never told you I was…”

“Were you on the play?” He changes subject.

“I-uhm…Yeah, I was. I wanted to watch it- yeah. Now answer my question!” You respond feeling incredibly uneasy.

“I was there too. Are you also human?”

“Me? Yes, I'm the Midgardian. You're from Earth?” You walk and get giddier on the call, someone from Earth in Asgard would bring you more familiarity. For a minute you forgot your question remained unanswered. 

“Was just curious. Thor likes you a lot. He speaks a lot about you.”

“Thor? Yeah, he's my friend...” You wonder why the stranger is bringing him to the topic.

“I think I found a light, will you stick on the line until I reach it?”

“Sure thing.” You don't know why, though you don't see anything wrong with waiting. Your every move is still shaky from fear.

“You never told me your name.” He says suggestively, you hurry down the stairs and breathe out the next words.

“Why do you wanna know my name?” 

“Because I want to know who I'm looking at.” A shiver runs down your spine. Like a whiplash, you feel observed as you search your surroundings.

“...What?”

“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

“What do you think I've said?” He asks, feigning confusion. 

You rush to the entrance only to notice the doors are locked, your hands shaking as you knock the door repeatedly to call attention from the outsiders. You're sure the stranger heard you banging the door through the call. Shit.

You don't say anything as you hang up this time. You try to compose your breathing, the phone rings once again but you don't move to accept the call.

“Someone!! Help me!” You loudly call, waiting for a response, a sign, anything. The dark was even scarier after the call you received, the cold all too threatening, like a bunch of invisible eyes looking under your skin.

After some moments of silence passing through your weeping eyes, you're fighting to keep the sobs hidden by putting your hand to your mouth to muffle the noise.

You kneel down, body glued to the door, holding it for dear life, your heartbeat a bit too loud for your eardrums. You're hugging your knees in a position of defeat as your body trembles with each sob.

You're wondering if the Asgardians had evacuated the castle and forgotten about you. You wondered if Loki forgot about you.

Your phone rings.

“Don't you hang up on me again or I'll make sure you're the first one to get killed.” Your sobs get even louder. “I'll gut you like a fish and feed your organs to the wolves!”

“What are you doing?! Who are you?!” You ask, clenching your fist to your chest. The rough voice from the other line chuckling from your questions.

“Does it matter, sweetheart? You want out, don't you? Poor thing, locked alone in the castle…”

“Please…don't hurt me…”

“You've told me once you like scary stuff, thrillers.” You fight not to hyperventilate. “Let's try some method acting, shall we?”

“No…no I don't. I don't like this shit.” You grit your teeth.

“You do, sweetheart. Don't lie to me. Don't you want to join my play? I planned it just for us, I thought you wanted to watch it. I can make you a star.”

“What?! No…” You cry.

The door opens out of a sudden and your body falls to the dirty earthy ground. You leave a groan, when your head lifts you're surprised by the dark that's out in the wild, the only light being the stars above your head and the vast bright moon occupying the sky.

You lift yourself with trembling knees and hear a voice coming from the phone. 

“If you ignore me one more time I'll fucking cut your neck off, you stupid little bitch!” The person threatens and you visibly recoil, throwing the phone very far away, ignoring his instructions and running for dear life.

Panting on your way through the golden speckled Asgardian trail out of the castle, darkened by the lack of lightning that you find in the way, you breathe as best as you can, ignoring the fear clutching your heart and the tears pricking your eyes, face puffy and your nose beginning to stuff.

“Damn it,” you tremble and fall in your steps. Sobbing to the air. “Shit, shit…” You curse to the skies as you try to regain your steadiness.

You start listening to a noise behind you, shuffling the bushes and startling you even more. When you pay attention, there are a pair of black boots making their way out of the bushes, right to your direction. A cloak covers down their ankles while your eyes widen. 

You don't stay behind to care for whom it may be, nor wait to check their face, and you keep running.

You're startled as a man comes to your line of vision, screaming, frantic. You tremble and end up falling backwards on the ground, he falls on top of you. Your hands are punching him to move off of you but he seemed just as frightened as you were.

He also noticed your punches were much weaker than the touches the gods carry. The strength they have. He supposed you were a human.

“Oh thank the Lord!” He praises God, and your face is entirely a mix of fear and anxiety, the tears making it very uncomfortable to keep your eyes open. “Thank the Heavens, you have to save me!”

“No!” You scream, pushing him away. A human. He doesn't fool you, he's the damn murderer that's been stalking you. You push his figure behind and he falls off his steps.

And then a knife craves his stomach, your eyes are wide and you're nauseated. The blood speckles to your terrified face. You can't help the scream that leaves you.

You quickly hurry to move up and keep on the run, suddenly someone grabs you by your neck, pulling your whole body up effortlessly, scaring all the breath out of your body.

You're pale as you realize the person is masked, wearing a ghost face mask and a cloak covering their entire body. The person from that was following you, the murderer.

“W-who…” You're fighting, clutching the gloved fingers holding you up and choking you by your pulse. “Who…I-I can't- breathe…” You say between resistant breaths.

“I told you not to ignore me, didn't I? I didn't think I'd need to repeat myself. You seemed like a pretty clever girl.” You recognized the voice from the phone.

“Please…”

“Don't beg, sweet. You're right where I want you to be.” He turns your body, clinging to you, pressing a knife near where his hand was, on your neck. This hand is now resting on your stomach. “I was waiting for this the whole night.”

“What?” You squirm around his grip, wanting to get out.

He clutches your face, forcing you to look at the stage. The one that was before empty, and now, is filled with decorations and blood stains. Your bile raised up to your throat.

Your eyes widened in fear and filled with terrified tears, you could barely hold your screech as you paid attention to the calculated amount of bodies on the floor of the stage.

You were now fully hitting him even though your limbs were being held tight, you still tried to escape.

“Don't be scared, princess.” A shiver runs through your skin, your whole face must be a mix of sweat and tears. It's like everything is turning in your head, dizzying you. Princess. 

Cruel joke. Must be a cruel coincidence, a cruel joke against you. You imagined the killer heard the nickname Loki called you, you could only hope Loki was coming to save you anytime. Maybe he knew how much you liked him.

“Don't be scared, we're only starting the show.” He carries your body up and takes you closer to the stage, all while you punch him as best as you can with full fists. He doesn't seem to be affected by your weak punching.

“Shh, now.” He calms you through your breakdown, shushing you and moving a piece of your hair that was sticking on your forehead due to your sweating. “Shh, you'll like this game, I promise.”

“Game?” You repeat with a gasp, mouth open in fright. “I don't wanna play anything, you freak! You monster!” You try to jump off his embrace but he's stronger and clutches his hold onto you with more strength. “Please, let me go…”

“Come on, princess.” He calls through your cries, placing you down on a throne-looking piece in front of the stage, when you touched it, it felt so…real. You wondered how anyone would be able to bring a real golden throne to this place, you wondered if it was like the one the Asgardian King has.

“A real throne for a princess.” You felt the goosebumps rise one more time, bringing your attention out of your senses, as you looked at the masked freak. “You can't get out of this.” He says and you notice you can't move your hands, you actively scream out, really scared at being unable to move.

“What are you doing?! Why?” You wonder, and he touches your face delicately, the ghost face giving you a cold feeling down your spine, your eyes bright with tears as you look up to him. 

He moves your face a bit, to get you to look at the stage instead of himself. 

“We're just going to play a game, my princess.” He softly says, as much as his raspy voice can muster. You start shaking your head in denial, frantically. 

“Please, no. You've had your fun, I promise I won't tell, please! Let me go!!” 

“You wanted to watch the play, we're going to do so. You just have to guess who's the one that's guilty. If you get it right, nothing happens, and you get a reward. If you get it wrong, we're going to have even more fun.”

“Why are you doing this?” He doesn't respond, he keeps his hands on your shoulders as you watch ahead.

The play starts, a terrified man tries to run you, but he's interrupted like there's a wall in the way. 

“Please, help me! I'm innocent, I need to go away.”

You try to move your hands but you can't. The Ghostface whispers in your ears. 

“Do you trust him, sweetheart? It's in your hands.” 

You shake your head and close your eyes, desperately trying to ignore the scene in front of you. More characters came into the scene.

“Don't worry about the actors, sweetheart,” his whispering was almost so soft for the fake covering voice, hidden behind the mask. “That man, the one that just screamed,” he points his knife to the man that's staring at him with big scared eyes. “He was wanted as a criminal, his reward was worth thousands of gold for arson, murder and sexual abuse.”

“S-so you don't think sexual abuse is correct?” You ask before even thinking, just feeling a wave of relief.

“What?” He sounds surprised for a second. “Why would I–? Oh, sweet? You thought I'd hurt you like this?” His voice sounded different at the moment he realized, like it really hit him somehow. “I'd never do this to you, there's no need to worry about that, I think it's the most disgusting of all crimes.” He says tilting the knife, you gulp not knowing what to do, but gratefully accepting the fact the killer had moral limits about this. At least.

“Pick one.” You realize you've barely paid attention to the play, to the actors moving.

“Please…” You keep on begging, maybe that'll help, but it gets him even more out of patience. “Please, I can't play with people's lives!” 

“You should know what you were getting into before coming here.” He gets closer to your face, you only wish your hands could work so you could pull his mask off to know who he is. “Come on, pick one.”

All the characters looked terrified, one wore a sillier mask of the Ghostface that was beside you, purposely seeming fake and cheaper. You start shaking, it'd be too obvious to pick the Ghostface that's acting, he's supposed to be the story's murderer. No one was actually killed during the act, they just pretended to kill.

“Do you think he did it?” The real killer asks beside you, almost sitting by your side close to your throne. He steps in front of you, steps clear and slow as his boots hit the ground, making you fixated on his every move. “You've been looking at him.” He takes something out of his cloak, and you almost can't believe it when he pulls out a gun and shoots the guy wearing the leader's mask.

“NO!” You scream loudly, hoping to reach his ears before he finishes the murderous act. 

A few more very loud shots were done, the stage was now shining with the stranger's dark red blood, and the actors were all shaking, shivering, on their best attempts at holding their cries, because they didn't want to be a part of it, they're afraid they'll be the next.

“This play is originally Midgardian,” he said, ignoring your cries. “Being written decades ago, only modern versions have this new weapon so the characters would be killed at a distance. I think it's practical for our current game.”

“NO, NO, NO, THAT'S HORRIBLE! STOP, STOP THIS, LET ME LEAVE! I DIDN'T PICK HIM, I DIDN'T WANT HIM TO DIE!” You scream and your whole body is shaking as you feel the guilt racking through your bones.

You feel his gloved hands caress your arms. 

“Sweet,” his strange voice keeps calling you. “Princess, please, look at me. Look at me,” His glove is tainted with dark blood, staining the rich dark black material. He tilts your chin up to make you look at his masked face. You feel even more afraid, the unfamiliarity and fear burning up your body. 

You can't stop crying, and your sobs are becoming louder and louder. 

“Look at me. It's okay, remember what I told you? He didn't deserve to live. He was supposed to go through the death penalty anyways.” You didn't know if you trusted his words. You were scared. Terrified. Shaking, and now feeling so guilty you couldn't even think about being saved. 

What if they put the blame on you? What about the disgust the princes will feel about you? You feel tainted, dirty, like you killed him yourself, with your bare hands.

You couldn't handle that, you didn't want to take the man's life. You couldn't stop looking at the blood, the smell of iron now clinging close to where you're stuck at.

“Please, let me go. You got what you wanted.” You try one more time.

“You think I got what I wanted?” His hands strongly hold your already immobile wrists. “Princess, I could do this anytime I wished, but I want you.” He says and you shiver even more. “I want you to be the star. My Queen. The one they admire, I want you to stay with me.”

“What? W-what do you mean by that?”

“Thor is not coming back.” He says almost too softly, nonchalant, apathetic, you want to throw up. You're feeling dizzy, there's a knot in your stomach and you don't know what to do. 

“What?! What? What??! Why? What have you done to him?! What about Loki?!” You cry and beg for answers.

He chuckles. The mask moving with each small laugh he lets out, you want to rip it off his face. This person you already hate so much.

“It's so sweet of you, it matches your nickname. Sweet, sweet, darling thing. It's so beautiful to know just how much you care about me.” He moves the mask off his face and you're unmoving, you go completely limp as you stare at the face you admired before, the tears wouldn't go away.

Were they correct this whole time? You've been considering a psychopath as your friend this whole time?

“L-Loki?” You hate how you stutter as you say his name, you hate to see him smile at that. You hate that you don't hate him, because your brain can't link the murders to him. Not him. “Loki, why?” 

“My father made me love this play, he taught me everything. I was here when it was created, Odin thought of the leaders like brave warriors, soldiers. The weaker ones got killed first but only he remained.” Loki's voice now sounded so suave to your ears, you imagined the strange one must have been granted through his magic and illusions.

“Such a beautiful story, sweetheart. It has so many layers, I can't wait for you to get involved in this artwork as much as I do.” His smile was so bright you felt nauseated, you couldn't even speak. “Look at the irony, look at it! The Norns must love me! Odin died first, he isn't here to present my thriving. I'm the only one that's left, the leader, the King, the ruler. I'm winning now, and the act is going on!”

He conjures a knife and presses it close to your neck, making you yelp and jump a little out of the chair. You're surprised you can move now, but he still grabs you forcefully and pulls you up to him. 

“I was the one that made Thor bring you here. I was paying attention to you for so long, it didn't take much convincing until the oaf agreed, he even befriended you. You have no idea how long I've had to wait with my nerves at bay.” His jealousy was visible as he spoke and you shook from his words.

“Look at them. The blood of the undeserving, the weak ones. We are above them, my princess. You and me. We can win this game. I'd never, ever, hurt you.” He says the last sentence with a seriously cold expression, you open your mouth and leave out a loud cry. His frown deepen.

“What's wrong? I thought you wanted to see how the play goes?”

“Not like this. Please…Loki…” You feel his hand reaching under the skin of your dress, pulling it up and moving to caress your thigh. You feel perverted as your eyes open and you look at the blood and the terrified faces among the stage.

You take the moment he's distracted to rush out of his grip, he's caught unexpectedly so his knife accidently cuts your shoulder, you grunt from the small wound. 

You turn to leave as quickly as you can, Loki chuckles to himself, thinking about how cute it is, that you think you can be quicker than him. That you're trying to escape, it's what a really smart princess would do, to be brave enough to try.

You pass through bushes, a weird unknown garden to you, wanting to find anyone else that was there before, anyone from the crowd that was running away, screaming loudly your pleas for help that no one hears. 

You look behind, not seeing him makes you even more uneasy. You can feel his presence near you, you don't know where he is. 

There's a particular downhill area you didn't see right in front of you, you accidently fall. Your legs failing you and hitting the ground from a long altitude distance, cutting your face and any naked skin you're letting out, your bones felt the fall and you curse how stupid you were not to pay attention.

Your skin is tainted with dirt, your face now on the ground. You think your foot is out of place as you groan out in pain, it hurts to move it. You can't believe you could ever be so stupid. Your dress is so painfully yellow after all the dirt.

You cry like a little kid.

You're surprised when your phone —the one you threw away — is right next to you, ringing and intact. Your face is so puffy from the fall, and because of all the crying, all the fear.

You move your arms and hold it close to your ears. “Hello?” Your voice trembles.

“I should have told you, you can't run away from me, darling.” Loki's voice echoes through your mind now, you almost feel it like a safety blanket covering your skin after the defeat, you don't know if you should accept the loss or not. Like a balm, a salve. 

He's the one that hangs up this time.

You feel a pair of arms holding you up with him, cozying you into his arms, so you can peacefully rest your head onto his chest, still covered by the dark cloak.

He pats your head, letting his hand softly caress your back as you lay in his arms, he's carrying you somewhere else.

You see the people now, the Asgardians, and the actors from before. So you quickly put your head back to Loki's chest again, wishing to hide away.

“I shouldn't have just thrown it on you like that,” he keeps his soft touches on your clothed back, his magic cleaning the dirt on your skin, balming the wounds. “It takes a lot from someone, but you're so pretty when you're scared. I got carried away, I'm so sorry.” He quickly apologizes after he says so, you keep hidden, not wishing to speak.

He sighs tiredly, he massages your scalp, you almost mewl like a kitten when he does it. Your heart still aches with fear and he tears up at your shivering, afraid he's broken you.

“To all the Asgardians,” he begins, voice loud and authoritative. “I expect all of you to do your normal duties tomorrow, everyone in their expected places. I'll have the lights fixed after I have my fun.” His fingers massage your scalp as he mentions that. His other hand holds you up by your buttocks, he's steadying you in his arms.

Unknowingly to your hiding self, the Asgardians nod tearfully and all so scared of his statements. They all were quivering under Loki's gaze. He seemed like a true mad King to their eyes. 

To Loki, he's never been more sane, this is all he ever wanted, he's got you in his arms now. And Thor is gone. He's a King.

“To the actors,” he looks at the frightened crew still in their respective places. “I expect a full play. Just as we planned.” He gestures to them to continue, they lock eyes with each other and look at the corpse close to their feet. “Now.” Loki could only roll his eyes with impatience.

They move in their respective places, getting ready for the show. Loki sits on the throne with you clinging to him like a koala. He's smirking all too proud, he loves feeling needed.

He considers putting the mask back, it's a symbol for greatness in this art. It's what his father used to say.

“Love,” he calls. Not wanting to frighten you more, you look up to him with a quivering lip. “You're okay, we're okay.” 

He lifts a bit the end of your dress again, unbothered by the actors frantically moving among themselves, not knowing if they should look or not.

He grabs your ass cheek, making you gasp from the suddenness. You don't want to think about the scene, so you don't. You stick to appreciating his closeness, and him, you feel like a pervert for enjoying this, his low voice speaking against your skin.

He kisses you.

“I'll make you feel better.” He brings you up a bit to lick down your earlobe, moving to kiss your neck. “I'll make it all better, I promise. I've been reckless.” He says, taking off his gloves and pressing his nails against your skin, marking tiny half-moon shapes on your flesh.

Wanting to fully feel you, smiling as he remembers the desperation from the man, he's dreamt years of this performance. Of having a figure to be conquered, the star of the show, you.

The blood still covered his cloak, and it's starting to taint your beautiful, innocent skin. It entices him more, of course. He groans near your ear, you moan under his touch in response.

He hears the movement from the play and he grabs your hair tenderly, you've had enough for one day, he has to be kind, you need his softness that you adore so much. The one he reserves only for you.

He takes off your dress and lets it slip off your body, he's in awe as more of your skin reaches his eyes, his breath hanging for a second.

The actors now well enough not to look at you while the King has you in his arms.

He grabs more than he can, he feels graced by the Gods. He wants to suffocate you with his passion, the blood on your skin tainting his hands. The blood gets him so hard, leaving him impatient as he ruts against your clothed pussy, searching for friction.

He sucks on your neck, taking his time to your shoulders, your hands tremble as you move to grab his hair. You keep your eyes closed, each breath you tried to convince yourself this was completely fine.

Loki's eyes glance to the stage for a moment, he takes a look at a character picking the ghostface mask off the floor, and with a shaky breath and, most likely heavy heart, the next thing to be heard was a short scream. The cut of the knife tainted the actors even more, one of them turned to run to a corner and throw up.

Loki pressed his hands against your ears so you wouldn't listen to the vomit, nor the blood splashing out. But you knew.

"Weak bastards," Loki thought, "they'd never survive a war. Weak, fake puritans. Their blood is a noble sacrifice."

Loki kept a hold of your head to his chest so you wouldn't watch the scene, you were still shaking, poor thing, wouldn't be able to take it. Your curiosity was dangerous to you, he had to keep you safer than he assumed necessary, innocent, untainted little thing.

“Princess,” he takes your face between his hands, only leaving a small distance between his lips to yours, practically speaking right into your mouth. You blushed under his loving gaze. “Can I have you?”

Your breath stopped short, you were so dizzy you feared fainting from such intense emotions. Loki was all you wanted, but after this? You were terrified.

“You don't need to accept, I won't even make you watch the show. I fear it'd be too much for your pure heart to take,” he carefully fixes a singular strand of your hair to behind your ear.

“I'm not pure,” you meekly said, your eyes stinging with the weight of the truth. You've never felt dirtier, never felt more like a sinner. If punishments were deserving for those who committed atrocities, you trembled to believe you'd need them all. “I'm not pure, I deserve to suffer.”

“Don't say that,” Loki sternly commands. “Don't say that, not you. If there's a soul in this universe that deserves all the nine realms, it is you.” His words are stern but so soft, you once again feel your lips quiver at the start of another sob. You were way too emotional, everything was way too wrong.

Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.

His fingers kept a gentle caress of your back, down your spine, to reach your hips and buttocks. His breath hitched as he gritted his teeth, attempting patience, waiting for a sign that you soon granted him.

“Please…” You begged, like a poor little mouse under his tricks. He felt oh so blessed, the Norns truly must love him. He practically yanks you panties down, they hang somewhere around your calves as he starts to touch your needy cunt.

He skillfully touches your folds, your pussy clenching from the movements he's making, he slips his fingers inside your cunt to stroke that sensitive spot inside of you, curling his fingers, making you a mess.

“That's it, sweetheart, take your pleasure,” he craved those pleased whiny moans of yours, they were a treasure to his ears, you were clenching around him and lifting yourself a bit up with each thrusting of his fingers. He couldn't control his groans to himself. “Take it from me, it's yours. All yours.”

His palm circles your clit, paying extra attention to the moments you get sensitive, shivering under his hold like his precious toy, heat running down your skin. You shamelessly begin riding his palm. He kept your legs fully open now with his other hand, keeping a strong grip on your skin.

“Let me play, darling. Don't be cruel.” You didn't know if your tears came from pleasure or fear now. Your mind wasn't allowing you to focus on the seriousness of the situation, you didn't want to look at the blood, and the smell of him intoxicated you to the point you ignored the smell of iron around the place.

“Y-yes…” You mindlessly opened your legs further, making him give you the prettiest, most devilish grin your eyes could see.

“I'll treat you so well, you will enjoy being mine, princess. I'll make sure you do.” You don't hold your moaning, unafraid of the possible eyes wandering to your figure. Your nails digged his shoulders, your hips rutted against him unashamed, begging for the friction, for more of his marvelous fingers.

He helps you through your climax as you're gushing over his clothes, you're a trembling mess, coming undone for him, your entire face now very sticky with sweat and tears, the post-orgasmic bliss clouding your mind.

“Do you want to know how the show ends?” You feel goosebumps as he asks that, no, no you don't want to.

He looks down at you, bringing his fingers up as a trail of your cum sticks on the way to his mouth. You're dazed as he licks his fingers clean, keeping eye contact with you, you see a bit of blood sticking in between the act.

You wonder whose blood it is, if this is any hygienic, but you supposed being a God had its perks for these things. Your eyes squeezed tight in shame.

He makes sure to lift your face to make your eyes open again.

“No need to feel embarrassed if you like it.” Your blood boils and the heat you feel increases, how dare he? To assume you'd like being part of something so cruel?

“I don't like it.” You say coldly, not passing any of the burbling rage you feel.

He laughs a bit from your serious expression, you feel mocked. You knit your brows, you didn't know Loki could be this way.

“I love you, princess.” It's like a stab on your heart after the cruelness.

“No, you don't.” He scoops you up his arms, out of a sudden, you yelp as you're lifted, instinctively holding up around his neck.

He moves the throne magically to the center of the theater. Everything looks so hazed and spectacularly planned out.

He places you carefully down the throne, even fixing the skirt of your dress as he leaves you there.

You feel out of place, the characters that are alive have pleading eyes but none have the courage to move and run away. You begin to feel your blood boil for them too, how could they be so weak? How could you?

“My heart.” Loki calls you, you shiver because of the pet-name.

Your tears came back again, and your head now stings drastically from so much crying. If you survived, the headache you'd feel tomorrow will be painful.

Now, your fear was one thing, your anger another, even your cries as you orgasmed were angelical and he craved them like a sick bastard. But your sadness? That stung deep into his heart, ripping it like a carved knife tearing his insides out.

“Please… please don't cry, love. It's okay.” He never thought he'd beg another, he wanted to make everyone else pay. But you? You didn't deserve pain or suffering, and now you're crying because your poor heart is so sad it can't take any more of what he's made you go through.

He'd have to go a long time apologizing, your sadness was starting to cling to his bones.

“My love, look at me.” He holds your hand, kneeling by your side down the throne. Like you're the Queen and he's just a peasant, your servant, a pet.

You don't feel very royal at the moment, you don't really feel in control. If that's what he's planning on doing.

“That's my pretty girl.” As much as you're defiant and trying to keep yourself unattached, you can't help but blush at his words. They seem innocent, they seem honest. “My pretty girl, now the Queen of Asgard. Just as you deserve.” He looks down at your body and licks his lips. He'd feed you all the compliments in the world just because you deserve them.

His hands slide to your thighs and squish them under his hands. He leaves out an animalistic moan, looking up at you with so much desire clinging to his pupils.

“I've been waiting for this part the whole night.” You feel off at that, but he holds you as he hovers over your figure on the throne, quickly scrambling to get rid of his pants. Your panties have been discarded a long time ago, so the wetness is now ruining the fancy marble of the throne, your cheeks warm up at the realization.

He's pinning you against the throne with his weight, his back to the audience, covering you.

He sheaths himself inside of you, he goes in more easily than you imagined, making your eyes round as you feel him throbbing inside you, desperate to move.

He pulls out a bit and thrusts back into you at once. He has an insufferable smile covering his face, and his eyes closed in pleasure, appreciating the warmth of your cunt squeezing him in, welcoming his cock like you're made for him.

“Oh princess, I envied all the souls that had the pleasure of being near you.” He grabs your chin roughly forcing you to look into his eyes, your own eyes moist as you feel so inferior to him. “But what can they do now? What would they do now that I have you? I have you. I have you.” You pant as he bucks so deep into you, you can feel it hitting impossibly deep to the hilt.

“Y-you don't.”

“Oh?” He taunts. “Is that so, my heart? What does it look like to you?” He keeps his punishing pace into you, hands pressing down your womb where you can both feel the bump of his manhood shoving into you, balls repeatedly hitting your ass with every frantic thrusting. His sweat hitting your skin as he fucked you like a beast. “Because to me,” another harsh thrust, you moan and crave your nails on the skin of his back, legs wrapping around his waist. “It seems like I've won.”

Your eyes roll up your skull as he keeps hitting that sensitive spot, he was craving the sensation of your exploding orgasm, he craved to feel your cunt straining his cock as you milk his cock. His hand moves lower as his thrusts become more powerful, he rubs your clit. He hears your panting and moans into your ear like your sounds are a victory of its own.

You cling to him as his hips work you until your head falls backwards, the lights all on you as you spasm around him and his massive form still holding you for dear life. Loki finished with a bite down onto your neck, right next to your lifeline, biting a bruise as you felt him spilling into you.

You cling to him as you cease your rocking hips, he holds your tired legs down as he keeps himself rested inside you, calming down his breathing as your forehead touches his.

You look down and see the earlier blood smeared across your skin, you gulp, he feels your cunt clench from the sight and he gives a satisfied smile.

He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.

“I have you, princess.” He pulls out carefully and you hiss from oversensitivity. A long string of his cum coming out of you, you watch it with fascination as it runs down your thighs, moving a bit so it doesn't ruin the pristine throne. “I have you, my star.”

He conjures a knife again, and hands it to you. You watch it dazedly, the bliss really making you more fuzzy.

“Dearest,” he sweetly calls you, he's been doing that a lot, you notice. “The star needs to finish the show. The true leader. The one they're obsessed with, the true Star.”

You're limp as you take the news, you move the knife on your hands with a detached curiosity, it's clean now but you wonder for how long it's been used, and for what kind of things.

“I can't kill anyone.” You weakly say, afraid you'll disappoint, his eyes are wide but he still nods. He's quick to show you he's not disappointed.

He pats your hair and nuzzles your cheek with his face, getting your lips close to him so he can give you multiple and multiple kisses all over your face. You feel his affection like a healing balm in itself, you bathe yourself in it.

“It's okay, it doesn't need to be you.” He affirms, still passing his hands across your hair, and skin. He glanced at another actor, you hid your face again into his chest as you anticipate the cruel fate that'll obviously occur no matter what.

And it did, you heard another splash, someone else needed to die. You're shaking and your sobbing is louder than you wanted, Loki keeps you scooped onto him. He begins rocking you back and forth gently as a means to calm you down, cherishing you, babying you.

“The Star agrees for it to be the end, I presume?” He asks and you nod repeatedly. You just want it to end.

“Please… please, no more.” You beg weakly, he cradles you and coos some more, keeping you safely tucked in his arms, he starts to move around to stand up with you still clinging onto him like a koala.

“This will be all.” He gives a satisfied smile to the crowd of actors, the ones that survived shaking, trembling. Still meekly downing their heads as all actors do when a play's over. They rush to the exits, and Loki allows them.

“Shh, now.” He still asks of you as your cries are unstopping. “Please, love, it's over.”

“What will happen now?”

“I've told you, I'm the King. Nothing will happen, this play lasted for generations, it's the first opportunity I've had of making it my own. Centuries before you even dreamed to exist, but they don't dare to defy the King.” He patiently passes his hand up and down your back, holding you more to him. “We're safe. I told you. We're all safe.”

You guessed he wasn't going to refer to the dead people around you, or the ones that died in the way.

He takes a trembling you with him somewhere else, you don't know where you're going, but you don't have the bravery to peek out and see. You're still afraid to be the next.

You feel even more perverted everytime you think about death and feel his sticky cum running down your thighs, you feel even more perverted as you don't regret it.

“I'll take you to our chambers.” He says, as if it's nothing.

“Our chambers? Mine is…” He interrupts you. You check around and notice you're inside the cold castle, nobody's in sight but you and Loki.

“No…not yours, our chamber.” He recalls you. You shake your head clinging to his chest again, leaving out another sob.

“I'm sorry,” he continues, frowning now. “Do you hate me?” His voice trembles as he asks, your fists curled around his muscular chest as your mind fights to hate him, but you fear you don't. You don't want to tell him that you don't hate him. “This was more traumatic to you than I assumed it would be.”

Your eyes open as you try to look anywhere but his face, and as you peek at the floor, you see the shiny, bloody ghost face mask left on the floor. As if it's nothing now, as if nothing happened.

It gives you the chills.

“I-I, I've never had to–” You sob loudly. “Never thought I'd need to see- see people being murdered.” Your stinging eyes now struggled to keep open, you fought to breathe and to speak. He tries to calm you down and rubs over your clothed skin some more.

“My love, my heart, it's over now.”

Is it? Is it over? Was it all a huge nightmare? Your eyes squeeze shut as you wish for it to be all a giant, mean trick. But as you opened them, everything was real, and the blood, the cum, the memories, still very much present speckled across your impure skin.

“It's over.” He places you ever so gently down his giant bed, it felt heavenly, the pillows were so soft and the mattress smelled like paradise. It felt so heavenly you sighed out in relief, your bones received the touch against the bed like a treat. “It's been enough for this year, but we'll need to treasure the future performances.”

Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.

“You don't need to worry about that now, my heart.” He pleads again, kissing you, you accept, and then pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. “For now, I'll let you relax. I'll prepare a bath for us, and I'll let you rest your divine mind into dreamland. Does this sound suitable?” He asks with a kind smile, smoothing his fingers over your wrists.

You clear your throat to say.

“Yes.”

“Perfect, my heart. As I have you, I'll take care of you. I've planned to have you as my Queen for a long time. I won't let it go to waste, I promise I'll take care of you.” He scoops you up to him again, he seemed to enjoy treating you like a princess a lot. Cradling his face next to yours. “One day you'll forgive me. But for now, for now, let me make you learn how to love me.”

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

[rainydayz-nstuff]

Hiya! Are you taking requests? If so Can I ask for a Finn fic where his s/o is Bubblegum's younger sister? Like Neddy she was hidden from the world until him and Jake accidentally met her. I would love how it blossom.

THANK YOU! I’m always taking requests! (until like… the end of October due to school reasons)

Here is Finn meeting his future s/o, who is also the secret sister to Princess Bubblegum.

Finn and Jake had always done odd tasks for not only for Princess Bubblegum, but many other royals and people of the Land of Ooo.

But this quest was one of the oddest ones yet.

Bubblegum had given Finn one of her holo-pendants which held a map. That map would guide the two heroes through the unkept cavern underneath the Candy Kingdom, ones that they never knew existed.

But the problem was, she never specified what she wanted them to retrieve.

With a single push on a brick, a secret passage opened up and Bubblegum ushered the two boys inside.

“Follow the map exactly the way it says to go. No shortcuts, no breaking down walls. We can’t have anything happen to these caverns.”

She tried to explain shortly and efficiently before leaving quickly.

“D’you remember what PB wanted us to get? I mean, we know where to go but what is this for?” Jake broke the silence while glancing up at Finn.

Finn hummed while holding up the glowing pendant. It’s bright pink hologram showed their two dots walking down a dotted path. At the end was a large room with an X over it.

“I… I can’t remember. I think it was something… pink? Or was it red? Whatever it is, she really needed us for it.” His enthusiasm made Jake crack a small smile.

While staring at the map, a sudden dot flickered in the corner. Finn stopped and just stared at the flickering mark.

Finn’s dot was a blue, Jake’s was a green, and this odd one was a bright yellow. It flickered before slowly moving around. It was way off track where the boys were supposed to go, but whatever it was it seemed like no good.

“What is that? Maybe…” Finn gasped. “Maybe it’s someone doing shady biz down here! I mean, nobody else knows about this place so something must be up”

Jake nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Let’s go find this thing!”

The two started to sprint down the long hall before they took a sharp right, which was way off from where they were supposed to go.

They found themselves standing in front of a door. But unlike the rest of the place, this area seemed cleaned and taken care of. No moss growing, no cracked stone, and no signs of damage anywhere.

The two boys looked at the hologram and they saw that whatever was inside had stopped completely.

They gave each other a knowing look before nodding. They then kicked down the door. Their battle cries echoed in the room while they posed, ready to fight. Finn had his sword unsheathed while Jake’s fists grew to be giant.

Time seemed to freeze when the door was kicked open.

Finn’s eyes were wide as he stared at the Candy girl who had a stack of papers in her arms. Her soft eyes were wide and her gummy hair bounced around when her head whipped around.

His lips trembled and his face grew warm. Whoever this girl was pretty and seemed to be no threat to him, to anyone in that matter. She wore a long dress which opened up fuller at the bottom, the skirt spread around on the floor.

It was a baby pink color with see-through sleeves which made her style seem airy and innocent.

Her lips pressed thinly while she stared at the two in horror. Her pink brows furrowed while she shakily opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

Jake glanced at the two, sensing a weird connection between the two. He backed away slowly while Finn suddenly dropped his sword.

It clanged against the ground and his stance softened. The girl flinched at the sound and her legs shook while she took a step back.

Finn stepped forward while he gave the girl a crooked smile.

“H…. Hi-“

“WHO ARE YOU?!”

Her sudden outburst made Finn freeze while her papers fell to the ground. She had her right hand raised to point right at him in an accusing way.

“I’m-“

“Who are you?!”

Every time Finn tried to speak, the girl kept repeating the same question. She kept going till she backed up and slipped on a piece of paper.

Finn rushed over and was about to help her, but he too slipped on the papers.

They both groaned in pain while Finn propped himself up on his arms. He stared at her face which was even more pretty up close.

The blush appeared in his face again before he started to stutter. “Hi… I’m Finn. And you are?”

The girl sat up slowly while leaning back on her hands. She licked her lips and tried to soothe her dry throat. “I am Princess Y/n, second in line to the Candy Kingdom.”

Her voice was filled with authority, but her body language showed that she was nervous and frightened.

“Wow… you’re really pretty…” Finn melted at her voice. Her face also heated up and he snapped back to reality realizing what he said. “I didn’t mean that! I-well you are pretty! But we just met, and this is… I’m sorry”

Y/n stared at him while he rambled before she tried to cover a giggle. “Pfff!” She failed, and then her laugh echoed in the room.

Now getting a better look, the room was spacious and filled with instruments, art, and books. In the corner was a neatly made bed with a crown sitting on the pillow.

Finn slowly blink before he stood and offered a hand to the girl. “Second in line?” Her raised a brow while giving her a charming grin.

Y/n slowly grabbed his hand, her pink hand darkening under his tanned skin. She allowed him to help herself up.

“Yes, my sister is Princess Bubblegum. You must know who she is, right?”

Jake strolled back in, his hand going around to show his shocked nature. “Woah! Woah, woah, woah! Sister?! PB has another sibling?!” He yelled, his mind exploding from shock.

Y/n smiled. “Yes! And that means you know about Neddy!” Her hands pressed together while she grinned widely.

She then let out a gasp. “Oh, I do know you both. You’re Finn the human , and you’re Jake his magic dog! My sister talks about you all the time.”

Her eyes widened before she bent down and started to go through the fallen pieces of paper. She sat up tall once she found the one she was looking for.

On a single page was a very detailed drawing of what Finn and Jake might have looked like, just based off of her sisters tales. Finn’s picture made him look a little older than he looked while Jake’s made him look more like an ordinary dog than a magic one.

“Sorry if they’re bad, I’ve never really seen other people before…” She blushed while scratching the back of her neck.

Finn’s eyes lit up and he grabbed the picture. “Are you kidding?! This is mathmatical!” He cheered before hugging it close. “I love it!!”

Almost a year had passed since Y/n was introduced to the real world. The one she was meant to live in.

Being locked underground for years wasn’t good for her, mentally and physically.

The one thing she couldn’t take her eyes off every single day was the stars.

She never saw them in person until months after returning to the surface. Her eyes reflected all of the small and big lights in the sky.

Finn remembers the look on her face because he was the one to surprise her with them.

Now every night, no matter the weather, inside or outside, she stares at the stars that tell her different stories.

Her back laid on a cold grass, her candy hair sprawled out while she smiled contently. “Look at that one! Next to the Little Dipper.” She pointed up eagerly.

Finn followed her finger and he grinned. “I don’t think I’ve seen such a bright star.” He smiled before looking at her.

Her eyes stayed on the stars while he stared at her. Of course Finn had fallen for the sister of his original crush. But things were different.

He was older now and realized that this girl was meant for him, and he hoped she felt the same.

“It’s so pretty…” She whispered to herself, but Finn always heard her voice.

He stared at her awe-struck face while a blush softened his cheeks. “Yeah…. Really pretty…”

Y/n didn’t notice his gaze, but she intentionally scooted closer and laid her head near his chest while continuing to stare at the sky.

A faint smile ghosting her lips while she felt comfortable against the young hero.

I LOVED THIS SO MUCH!!! Thank you for requesting!!!

[sporadically-writing]

Hello! I saw you had requests open for Critical Role and was wondering if you could do a one shot maybe with Percy with a reader who comes from the modern world? And they joined the team and are both on watch for the team at night and have a heart to heart about their homes maybe? (Possible realization of one or the other or even both falling in love? 👀)

Howdy! Absolutely!

Quiet Moments

Pairing: Percy de Rolo x reader

Warnings: Trapped in a parallel world, slight sadness

Word Count: 663

Honestly, meeting someone who has traveled from other planes of existence is not the weirdest thing that has ever happened to Vox Machina. However, attempting to get you back to where you came from was a far more difficult task than anyone had previously believed.

To be fair to everyone, they tried everything they reasonably could to get you home. However, unfortunately, some things are beyond magic and everyone realized, you were stuck in Exandria.

Everyone felt terrible. In the time you had spent with them, you had quickly become a treasured friend amongst the group and despite your many differences and the learning curve it took for you to find a means of personal defense in this world, you fit into the group just fine.

Which meant seeing you so saddened by the fact that you would never return home again, weighed heavy on all their hearts.

Not sure what to say to you, they sadly left you to your own devices, hoping to cheer you up when the information wasn’t as fresh. Well, all of them except a certain gunslinger.

Percy, more so than anyone he knows, understands how your brain, when turned against you, can eat you alive. He might not have been able to prevent it for himself, but he wasn’t going to let you torture yourself with depressing thoughts alone.

He was quiet as he approached, respectful. Waiting for you to give him any sign that you wanted him to go.

When you didn’t he walked the rest of the way and sat beside you. He had to give it to you, for someone not from this plane, you sure knew how to find picturesque places to be contemplative.

He sat down on the other end of the log, watching the sunset for a moment. “You know,” he said, breaking the silence, “you always find the prettiest places to camp for the night.”

He was testing the waters, attempting to see if you would talk to him. In a rare moment, something Percy would vehemently deny if you asked him later, he found himself hoping to any deity that would hear him that his plan would work.

Percival Fredrickstein von Musel Kowalski De Rolo the Third is not a pious man. With the horrors he’s suffered one can imagine why his faith in the gods might not be as strong. But, he recognized the delicate nature of the situation and for his poor heart, he needed you to respond to him. To let him be there for you and help you in whatever small way he was capable.

He had lost a home once, he’d found a new one. Now he hoped he could guide you through the same.

To his surprise, whether it be luck, divine intervention or just wonderful you, you spoke. “Comes with not being from here I guess.”

Percy chuckled as lightly as his short breath in the moment would allow, “Yes, I suppose.”

He’s quiet again, slowly reaching over and taking one of your hands in his.

Surprised at the gesture you look at him. His expression is hidden momentarily as the setting sun glints off his glasses but in a moment, tortured yet hopeful green eyes turn to face you as Percy offers you a sheepish but well meaning smile.

Your heart squeezes a little as tears work their way to your cheeks and Percy does his best to comfort you.

Once you’re a little calmer, looking away but still holding your hand, Percy opens up. He tells you as much as he can manage while keeping his composure but you get it, comforting him a little as well.

You stay that way until you can fully see the stars. Hearts beating together, coming to terms with what is to come. Your hands are still entwined, a promise that whatever happens next, you’re there for each other.

You aren’t quite there yet, but there are marks of love in you both.

Navigation

Request Rules/Character Sheet

[glitteryinknotes]

This face haunts me.

Sebastian.

This poor sweet soul, no different than the unnamed "darling boy". The only difference between them being that when Astarion got to him - he didn't have it in himself to disobey his master's commands anymore.

Sebastian. His life, his joys, his innocence stolen from him. Who was he? Who did he wish to be? Who could have he become in his time? We will never know. He will never know.

This moment in Astarion's storyline hit me in the face unlike any other. More than the hug and the confession. Not only because this is the moment we truly see the abhorrence of our lover's past deeds, but because Sebastian is presented as someone we - as the Tav romancing Astarion - are supposed to relate to personally.

We may not be exactly the same. Astarion's goals may be different, we may not be as naive, circumstances might be different alltogether. We may be smarter, more powerful, more experienced, more careful, whoever you headcanon your Tav to be and how their relationship with Astarion looks like in detail.

But it doesn't change the bottom truth.

We are the same fools who acted with kindness, benevolence and trust when it made no sense to do so. We are the ones who extended our trust and affection without any solid reason to. It paid off in our case - Astarion eventually trusted us, opened himself to us, allowed the morality and conscience he still had in himself to guide him for once, and showed willingness to be a better person - but we didn't know that he would when we invited him to our neck, followed him into the forest and in the first place - invited someone who just threatened us with a knife to our party.

We are the same fools who came to love and trust someone - objectively - probably undeserving of genuine love and trust, as things were back then.

Sebastian is one of the few true innocents Astarion seduced. Not a street drunk, minor criminal, brother patron. Not a degenerate from the city's underbelly. He is the true face of the horror Cazadorr unleashed through his vampiric pawns. This is what we choose to look past, forgive and take upon ourselves as someone caring for Astarion. This is the responsibility we must bear, the burden on our conscience we must now live with. If we truly care for him - and wish to think about ourselves as a person of any morals or a kind heart (which is the type of person who, storywise, pushes Astarion to be better than he was as we first encountered him, better than he himself ever thought he could be) - this is the "burden" that comes with the man we believe in and choose to be with, who we choose to see as someone better than everyone else sees him).

The seven thousand ritual - bound souls are now our burden as well. Our responsibility.

I personally believe that the choice to seek & aid the spawns in the Underdark is the only right choice for Tav & Astarion's story conclusion. To deal with the consequences of our choices; for Astarion to prove (if only to himself) that he indeed "can be better" than the one who made him and creatures like him; to finish doing the right thing. Cazadorr's end is a pivotal moment for Astarion, but even more for all the other unfortunate enslaved souls. For him is the final, decisive step towards healing and growing, for them... It's entirely up to you.

You and Astarion have all the time you need, in his own words. You can travel the world, engage in every kind of delicious debauchery Faerun has to offer, find a way to reverse vampiric curse, settle down in luxury and enjoy each other, probably all of the above, but I myself have been convinced, since the moment I saw Sebastian that tthe spawns should come first.

Help them the best you can. Make sure they have any joy in their tragic unlife, community, guidance, stability, safety, future, if that's even possible. Find a better place for them to settle down than the Underdark. Possibilities are endless, nothing is impossible in a magic - filled realm like Faerun. If Astarion has been lucky enough - they deserve a chance as well. If Sebastian - and those like him - deserve a chance, so do the other seven thousand.

And then you can go and have every fun awaiting two people happily in love.

[shmowder]

okay yeah can NOT stop thinking about the termites + Clara being a friendgroup and going on silly adventures like kids are supposed to, instead of living the horrors of the plague yk?

Sure, Clara is snarky and mean at times, sarcastic at others, but you know she longs to be loved, genuinely loved by a family, and have friends who care about her.

She just spawned into existence without a single soul to watch out for her. She yearns for the Saburovs affection so much that she runs away from home just to protect them from her growing bad reputation.

Imagine the sheer mind-blowing happiness she'd feel from having a group of friends who care about her and want to hang out? They don't ask miracles of her neither claim she is the bringer of doom, they just want to play with her, they share their toys and split their candy in half to give to her, they push her on the swings and teach her how to play tag.

Grace who's usually quiet finding someone adventurous and outgoing like Clara to balance her out. Someone who thinks her "weird" traits are the coolest thing ever! Grace is the Watson to Clara's Sherlock and I will die on that hill. She enables Clara and loves exploring the unkown and spooky territories with her, while Clara can't believe someone like Grace looks at her in awe with such stary eyes. Just for being herself, not for her powers or for her mischiefs, but just for... existing.

Sticky finally joining the friendgroup after isolating himself from kids his age for so long and desperately trying to fit in with the adults. The only reason he joins despite rejecting Khan and Notkin's proposals before is because his little sister wants friends to play with but is clearly terrfied to her core of interacting with others despite the strong mask she wears of pretending not to care. Murky's smile means the world to Sticky and he'd take her hand and guide her towards the other kids gently, because no one better than him understand what it's like being a fish out of water.

Because things are different now, he has a little sister to look out for and be responsible with! His urge to set a good example for her outweighs his introverted side and he gives in and starts making friends just to encourage her to do the same.

In a way, she indirectly teaches him that it's okay to act childish and be a kid. That it's okay to want friends and trust them.

Capella, who's carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders and watching her childhood slip by, like sand grains trickling down an hourglass the more her mistress powers manifest.

She is the oldest of the group and in a way feels responsible for every one of them, she desperately wants to look out for them before the responsibility of her mother's power start to manifest, not to mention the family business since young Vlad mentions wanting to leave the town and let Capella take over because "she is a smart kid" These kids may very well be the last friends she'd ever have before her whole life becomes a web of politics and business, the last flutter of innocence in a butterfly's wing before it's plucked off forever, to never regrow.

Khan living in the shadow of his family, always second place to his sister who's overtaking the role of her mother as the family head. So he does what he knows best and runs away to the next building over, starts a world of make believe and fairytales to reside at for eternity, refusing to come back home. Establishing an empire of kids who love and look up to him as a leader so he may never feel second place to Maria ever again. Ignoring how each time he looks in the mirror, day by day the face of his father stares back at him more and more.

Notking, Taya and Murky too oh my god. These kids deserve absolute heaven. They deserve to fight over sticker books and arguing about which superhero is the coolest. Imagine them planning their Halloween customs all excited! Khan refusing to participate thinking it's embarrassing for his age but then Capella and Notkin show up in customs and he feels left out so he scrambles for a last minute costume.

Sticky may or may not have used real blood in his zombie costume... you know left overs he "borrowed" from his father's cabinet. Murky wanting something pretty and princess like for her costume but being shy to ask Lara for help so Sticky does it for her instead.

Oh my god, Taya in a little bull costume with the horns and everything, saying hers is clearly superior, and she automatically wins the costume competition.

Clara thinking it's the most hilarious think in the world to dress up as Frankenstein's monster. She wanted zombie too but Sticky did it before her so she had to improvise. Grace is the mad scientist. Peter helping Grace and "Grace's friend" in making their costumes, having his weird little spin on them because he is just such an artist and could never settle for something mundane.

Capella dressing up as a detective! Or maybe something steampunk? Maybe her secret dnd character that she never told anyone about but definitely uses to play with her brother once a month in their running campaign.

Notkin picking the best Halloween costume possible ever! A vampire, duh! Nothing beats the classics, or so he claims. He is not just a vampire but the LORD OF VAMPIRES. A vampire king if you may. Jester has a cute bat costume, a cat in a bat costume. How innovative? Of course, you may only see it IF Jester feels like it.

Khan dressing at the little prince from the storybook? Or a classic werewolf to match Notkin's classice vampire look, or a vampire hunter just to fuck with him.

[mymainwastoocluttered]

Neverending Nightmares (Riddle Rosehearts)

Thank you for 1000 followers! Hope you enjoy the Horror Event!

Requested by the lovely @starkling25

NOTE: I only write for female reader but everyone is welcome to read it!

Warning ⚠️: Riddle's mom.

Rushed ending, sorry.

Riddle hears it before he sees it.

The sound of something metallic scraping against the floor, like someone pulling a heavy metal cane or a big sword.

He knows it can’t be real.

He knows it must be a dream.

Because he remembers very clearly falling asleep by his girlfriend’s side, the two in comfortable pyjamas and under soft blankets, holding each other close. Riddle had allowed himself to show is emotions as they came, giggling with his lover and rubbing their noses together, smile almost too much for his face when she giggled again and hid her lovely red face in the pillow.

So for him to suddenly wake up in his uniform in a confusing and unfamiliar house? Must be a dream.

Except.

Except the house started slowly morphing as he walked through the last few hallways.

Except he suddenly finds himself walking through the hallways of his house.

The wallpaper has not changed in all the years his family moved there. Mother is very particular about how her house must look, and has carefully handpicked from the wallpaper to what decoration goes in which corner. Father, always busy with work, doesn’t really care what’s done with the house so long his office and adjacent library is left alone. Riddle’s room was not decorated by him. It barely has decorations.

The noise comes closer.

The sound of something metallic scraping against the floor, like someone pulling a heavy metal cane or a big sword.

He knows it can’t be real.

He knows it must be a dream.

Because he remembers very clearly falling asleep by his girlfriend’s side back at his room in the Heartslabyul Dorm, in Night Raven College. Far, far away from the Queendom of Roses and far, far away from his mother.

Then why does she stand in front of him, in her characteristic red dress?

With the same expression she used to placate him whenever he “got demanding.”

With the same loveless eyes and stretched smile.

“Riddle.”

He doesn’t know if it was his mother who said it, but he knows it was his mother who said it. He does not see her mouth move, he does hear her voice clearly.

“Riddle, why aren’t you answering?” Riddle knows very well that tone of voice. It’s the prelude to a scolding.

“... Mother,” he answers weakly, voice faltering as he takes a step back.

She takes a step closer.

The noise.

He knows it can’t be real.

He knows it must be a dream.

Because he remembers very clearly falling asleep by his girlfriend’s side, protected from the nightmares of his past and future by her warm arms.

“Riddle, what do you think you’re doing? Walking around ignoring my calls, I did not raise you to have no manners,” she scolds, stepping closer and closer, maintaining the distance Riddle is trying so hard to keep. “Be a good boy for your mother, won’t you?”

The noise.

It is real.

It is not a dream.

Because he feels the arms pulling him back and he sees the knife plant itself on the floor and he sees his mother’s face change into a disturbing mask of perversion and he feels the pain when he lands on his back. He feels the hands pulling him up and guiding him away. He feels the burning of his lungs as they run. He feels his heart beat against his ribcage even as they stopped in an unfamiliar hallway that he has no memory of going through, despite supposedly coming from its general direction.

“Riddle!” (Y/N) cries, hugging him tightly, still catching her breath. “Oh, thank God, I'm so glad I got there in time!”

What follows is a flurry of words that he needs her to repeat twice before he can fully understand, but from what she's saying, he can connect a few dots. They're in a nightmare, a nightmare that's supposed to be neverending until it ends. A nightmare where they're supposed to face their trauma if they want to leave. He can only imagine what she saw to be trembling so much I'm his arms, or perhaps it is a mixture of seeing both of their traumas plus Riddle being attacked by the entity wearing his mother's appearance.

“I… it's ok,” he comforts her, despite his own soul trembling in fear of having to see more of that mother of his. “We can do this. We can end this nightmare. And then I'll make some tea for us, ok? Whatever tea you want.”

“... no matter the rule?”

“No matter the rule.”

She gives him a weak but hopeful smile, one he responds with a shaky grin of his own. It's almost enough to distract him from the figure that appears at the end of the corridor. Almost. He has no idea who that's supposed to be, but the gasp from his companion reminds him of her words.

Their nightmare.

[fandom-is-my-game]

Just Imagine...

A snow storm illuminates the New York City apartment, a continuous twilight through the night. A large fireplace brings a soft orange glow further into the space.

Loki lays on a large velvet couch reading by the fire light. Amael enjoys some spiced tea while taking in the relaxation, serenity.

Buzzing permeates the air, turns into whining, groaning. Growing louder. Ends in a thud. Stillness. But now accompanied by a blue glow.

"Better get the log," Amael says to the warm silence. Loki hums his agreement, not looking up.

Amael rummages through a side cabinet while someone exits the blue box now occupying the dining area.

"Hello," says an equally jovial and solemn voice. A familiar voice.

"Oh, gods, I thought I would never see this face again," Amael says relieved and ecstatic, bounding towards the Doctor for a hug.

He embraces her warmly for several seconds. As Amael steps back still grasping his arms, she notices a fondness in his eyes.

(..those eyes..)

"Your eyes have seen more, but your face…" she breaks off confused.

"You have regenerated. Many times," Loki says simply after a pause, now standing a few paces away.

"Yes," says the Doctor, finally walking over to give him a hug as well.

Amael continues to stare, theories being solidified slowly in her mind.

"Never remembering my past," the Doctor starts suddenly, talking quickly. "Uncertain always, but hopeful. It is why you accepted me as one of you; an Immortal. But I am not close to what I imagined. Possibilities all twisting, turning. Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle--" the Doctor, formerly pacing, slumps casually into a fire-side chair.

There is a wisdom about him. Same face but (…those eyes….) he has seen leagues of life; the dark areas that most only have terrors about before dying. Sitting with him, Amael takes his hand and he warmly accepts.

"I am not Gallifreyan," he says with sadness yet relief in his face. "I have seen horrors, lost countless people, ran from a past I never knew. All to have the universe spit back to say 'You'll never know,'" he finishes with a snarl, tears creeping into his deep eyes.

"Why this face?" Amael asks after a few moments.

He looks distant and lost, but clutches Amael's hand firmer. She gives him another hug, loving and filled with a thousand years of words.

"I think," she begins, breaking away carefully, "this is your true face. And I see in your eyes the belief in who--what--you truly are."

The Doctor takes a sudden, emotional gasping breath. He looks terrified; begging for answers but not wanting the truth. Loki squeezes the Doctor's shoulder as he goes to the kitchen for a swallow of mead.

"What if," the Doctor begins quietly through tears, "I don't like what I am; who I'm supposed to be?"

Amael ruffles his hair softly, placing her hand lightly on his neck. Focusing on his ancient eyes, she says boldly, "You are, and have always been, what you choose to be."

He smiles through his tears, saying confidently, "I have had an uncanny feeling that I am celestial."

With those words, Amael is overcome be memories, conversations. Images coming at impossible speeds, yet seeing them all in detail. Those words from this face, looking into these familiar eyes.

Loki, now resting against a chair arm adjacent to Amael, sees her expression and asks with concern and curiosity, "Love, you look as though you know something?"

(…it is alright, dear…)

"Doctor, in Early Enochian, means Life. You are the Angel of Existence," Amael says this as if she has known all along. "Burdened with life," she continues, "unlike any celestial. Suffering endless faces to better understand the pain of the universe; to help guide existence to its joy. A deranged Chuck left you all alone at the bottom of that spire."

All of this tumbling forth as though from a daydream, but solidified to reality with each breath.

The moment stands still as though caught on a wire in the void. Quick spurts of emotion cross the Doctor's face. Amael sits, shocked from her words. Loki's expression is empty, but passes in a moment. He clears his throat and gives a soft, reassuring smile, but, all the while, nervously twisting his hands.

Excusing himself to the library, the Doctor swiftly rises and strides away. Loki gathers your tea cup and his book, lingering a moment over the logbook filled with dates, memories.

"I will write this down; I need to," Amael says, slightly shaking hand picking up the book from the side table. Loki takes her other hand and kisses it gently.

"I will be drawing myself a bath, if you need anything, darling," he says warmly.

Loki, too, strides away, leaving Amael to process lost thoughts. Beginning to write his face and events in the firelight, she wonders if paradoxes matter anymore; wondering what else Chuck took from her.

[agentmarcuspike]

5 <3

for the ask game thing, from my liked songs

oh fuck so the song i got was a saami song called "mihá" (performed by mari boine) which means "pride", and it's about being a woman and surviving violence, and i've tried translating a few lines so you can get what it reminds me of

"there are colors behind black. some punches hit deeper than hard. stripped away from hope and faith; this is where i had to live. and shouts for help guided the pack, brought the animal home for eating. was burnt alive in a fire. so for life: hear, cheer.

but i'm breathing and the heart is beating. i have been pushed down into darkness but i'm standing. i can look into his eyes this fucking time. yes i'm living and i'm proud. mihá."

wc: 412

it wasn't supposed to happen like this. this part of her had been for someone else. ellie had barely had time to think about how she wanted it to be. not even with riley, as their time together had been cut so short, too short, and had always been reserved for laughing and shrieking with joy together.

after riley, the thought of being with someone hadn't crossed her mind. the thought of being close to someone, and it meaning something. she had closed that part of her heart off completely, hoping to one day meet someone who could help her open it again. someone who could stand apt, hands at the ready, and catch anything and everything spilling out after being kept in the enclosed space of her heart for so long, no matter how foul or horrid. and hopefully that person would love her still.

and yet, here comes this man. this obnoxious full-grown man, telling her truths about herself, that her heart is gross and violent, confirming her suspicions that her fate is to leave bruises and claw marks on everything she touches, and that everyone will leave her in the end. that she is like him.

that night, when he pins her down and threatens her, the walls of the room they find themselves in are not the only ones burning to the ground. ellie can feel her facade crack, the anger from everyone and everything being taken away from her, seeping out, before fully erupting out of her with her screams.

when the cleaver meets his face, guided by her hands, she hits him once for herself. for everything she's been put through in this evil vicious world. the first hit is for her. the second is for riley, for the time they didn't get to live together. then she swings at him for tess, for the things she could have taught her, the life she sacrificed so that ellie could keep living hers.

she chops this man up, piece by piece, for all the girls and women in her life, and the ones she hasn't met yet, so that they may live their lives without the horrors ellie has faced in her 14 short years, even if deep down she knows they'll have nightmares of their own.

but at least they won't be at the hands of this monster of a man.

ellie is almost surprised to find that he, just like her, bleeds red.

[colorguardian10]

The enchanted sequel Disenchanted was pretty good but I have Thoughts, and it ended up also being an analysis of the Hocus Pocus movies. Major spoilers ahoy!

These movies make me feel like movie makers are starting to wake up to how to make better sequels. Both stand as good stories on their own, that use the scenario and themes of the previous movie as the jumping off point, not just jerking around its corpse. Both are in dialogue with the previous movie’s themes without regurgitating nor trampling on them.

Hocus Pocus 2 continues the idea of classic witches in a modern setting, and shows the triumph of cooperation over simple, fantastical ideas of power. They’re not going for grand metaphors - it’s a children’s movie.

The teenagers triumph with familiarity of their surroundings, pottery kilns and garage setups, but it’s temporary, and undone with the quirks of those same modern tools. The witches stop burning in the timed kiln and Roombas clean the salt circle. Engaging on the witches’ terms goes badly.

The witches, as cool and confident as they seem, are completely alien in their motivations and divorced from reckoning with the real world. They look right at the camera to tell you that they eat children and delight in people dying as they wonder at TVs and try to eat skin cream.

And I do want to draw attention to “alien”. The bit right at the beginning of Hocus Pocus 2 when the kids ask “who are they even performing for?” and the witch appears behind them and says “You!” is eldritch horror.

They’re so cool and confident *and bumbling* because they’ve completely lost their grasp on reality. The sequel tells you immediately that they’re so self-absorbed that they only bother not teleporting everywhere to please a nonexistent audience.

Anyway again, the lesson of the Hocus Pocus movies is that lust for power is bad: in the first, Max tries to engage with the witches’ view of things and accepts that someone will be sacrificed for the desires of the powerful, and almost dies.

But because he isn’t selfish and chooses himself, everything gets delayed enough that it’s the witches’ downfall.

In the second, the book is cool with so much bad shit, but as soon as Winifred finds a single limit, she pursues it, without heeding the price she’ll pay. She pays it anyway, of course.

She gets lucky that she gets a happy ending, only because she’s willing to go down to her sisters’ new level, and because someone is compassionate enough to help her using the same power that she used to live forever. The compassionate helper has the book now.

Enchanted is also a very in-your-face lesson: We need to seek out joy where it actually is, not where it’s supposed to be. Everyone, perhaps, needs a dose of both reality and magic to guide us.

Giselle gets a small dose of reality. She talks over Robert’s concerns, and it works! She tries to impose her view on this world of everything always going to plan with her prince, and it goes less well.

The prince never even tries to engage with NYC and pratfalls everywhere. (Much like the witches.)

But the much bigger story is Robert’s and Nancy’s. Both feel unfulfilled and desiring a goal over reality. In sweeps Giselle.

She believes in everything being good if you just accept it as part of the grand plan. She finds beauty in rats and cockroaches, buskers, costumed dancers, shy geriatric lovers, and children’s plays. Robert starts to get a spark of joy back in his life.

However, he’s focused on his goal of proposing to Nancy, which is what he’s supposed to do, and Giselle and the prince are focused on finding each other, which is what they’re supposed to do.

For everyone, the magic of true love’s kiss is in something they wanted, not something they were told.

The evil queen isn’t the real antagonist, apathy is. Robert and Giselle don’t find magic because the queen lost, she loses because they both found magic in NYC. The evil queen is defeated for contrived reasons. She’s from fairytale land too, and in a good world she loses.

The sequel continues this theme, and still has the children’s movie simplicity of the original 2000’s movie. It tries to examine the same lesson from the other side: Now it’s Giselle’s turn to get a stronger lesson on the virtues of dropping a fairy tale view.

She tries to fix everything by moving to suburbia and it doesn’t work, she tries to fix everything by forcing magic into the world and it doesn’t work.

The lesson is again that Morgan and Giselle need to find joy in their relationship with each other. Maybe Morgan want independence and Giselle wants a fairytale ending.

The true happy ending happens when Morgan sees Giselle as her mother because of the memories they’ve shared, not because she’s compelled to love her mother.

Under fairy tale rules, Morgan and Giselle have to be hostile just because she’s her stepmother. In her role, Giselle can now only find joy in places that are toxic for her.

They both have to find love in the real relationship they have instead, and the magic of Andalasia accepts that, because under fairy tale rules, true mothers and daughters do love each other.

It’s a really cool story that asserts that found family and nontraditional families can be magical and loving, and that even fairy tale magic can accept stepmothers. It expands the way that Giselle finds magic where there shouldn’t be.

I think it could have gone further.

I think, instead of Morgan being Giselle’s “true daughter” and being able to harness the magic of Andalasia, they could have asserted that reality has its own magic.

In the real world, stepmothers don’t have to be hostile! You don’t have to be someone’s “real mom” to be the best thing for them! There’s no script, just what you have and what you make of it.

And when it does work out, it’s much more satisfying than everything magically working out because it’s supposed to.

I think Disenchanted should have had the virtues of reality be found by the magic believers of Giselle and Morgan.

Giselle becoming an evil stepmother isn’t the antagonist, even the ambitious Ms. Monroe becoming an evil queen isn’t the antagonist, sticking too hard to Andalasia’s stories is the antagonist. We want this world, where Morgan and Giselle can put in the work to love each other, despite what the story says.

Now, finally, all three members of the family have found joy by looking around them instead of listening to their presuppositions.

[keshimasu]

katsuki is dressed for a workout-of course he is, the kid wanted to beat all might and no one did that by sleeping in. shouta should have remembered he was one of the few up so early. he'd started pushing himself at around the same age. but the student in front of him doesn't need to catch up to the rest of class. wait. there was no need to go through the kitchen to exit dorms. had he left a trace of sorts? something to lead blond straight to him like breadcrumb trail? except for food, he realizes blearily. and the blood he'd tracked in that he doesn't remember running through.

bloodshot eyes blink as slow as brain moves. sluggish. slow reaction time. something hot flashes past pale face as he registers that he's not being given the bottle back. as if the adult in the room is incapable of holding it. it would probably spill and he was going to shower anyway which would take care of any sticky remains but he wouldn't drop it. hard gaze narrows even further in case his annoyance is unclear. difficult to chug the whole damn thing like he wants to.

maybe that's a good thing. lips pull away in a swear. there's still dark at the base of his nails, observed from the quiet distance heroes often needed to push through violent horrors. nails connect to fingers connect to hand which goes for his phone. hindsight says shouta should have fumbled his way into an emergency room if for nothing other than documentation. no, the past argues, couldn't risk it. why hadn't tsukauchi made him? it was beneficial to have a medical report on hand for the case against him, not a case an investigation. altered states could make people act out of character. killing should be out of character for a hero.

the screen is blurry and touch of cold has him stilling. damn, he'll have to remember to give katsuki serious commendation for this later. there was a difference between treating fake victims in an exam and very real ones. ones who were supposed to be coherent and in charge and old enough to have their shit together. cool is pleasantly clearing even if he shivers against it. should have changed out of damp clothes. . .he has to remember to restock his own fridge so this doesn't happen again.

that's his title. that gets his attention. peels drooping eyelids back and straightens spine that would love nothing more than to fold over to the floor and sleep there. right. phone. he's calling in all kinds of favors tonight. "hang on-" even in the dark with double vision, sharp eyes can recognize when someone plans to move. katsuki has that braced look to him.

he loathes the position the situation every single thing about this that so clearly states he fucked up bad enough to rely on a person over a decade younger than him. fine. then the kid can handle this too. shouta none too gently presses phone into student's free hand, still aware enough to keep feet under and steady-ish under him. because even if he's somewhat sure katsuki could dead lift him it would still be awkward and unwieldly.

"i'm not gonna keel over," he prefaces and defends his state. "call recovery girl for me. tell her i just need a rapid work up and she has my permission to share the results with...any necessary parties." no one, especially not one under his care, needed to know the details. it was an accident. self defense. asshole had it coming. shouta just needed to cover all his bases while he still could. he's trying to be logical.

logical is the exact opposite of what adrenaline soaked thoughts want to be. fingers brush the wall to guide them. door opens easily he must have left it unlocked in his haste to find a drink. mouth tastes unpleasantly like sour sweet banana. shouta stands awkwardly in the doorway. a completely irrational response to being faced with his own room. his desk splayed with papers to be graded his bed with it's soft dark sheets and several pillows. an extra set of boots sit by the foot of it.

he wonders if he's still flaking blood off black. wonders if he'd contaminated the dorm with crime scene. even for all the year's trauma, the class is still too young to be faced with such blatant realities like death. murder. not if their teacher can help it. "'m good...lemme-lemme change and i'll deal with shit."

early bird gets the worm and katsuki is always pretty hungry; by four in the morning, he's up and ready to face the day — a quick one-two jab and cross in the mirror, a hand brushing through an overgrown field of honey wheat, and he's off to brush his teeth ( die ya damn plaque! ). cold water splashing over his face removes the sand from the corners of his eyes and a wet hand towel draped over the back of his neck kills off whatever sleep still lingered.

he sleeps in whatever clothes he's going to work out in that day, which saves him a few precious minutes, so he's out the door in less than ten. before he can hit the gym, he has to go munch on that worm, a grumbling stomach reminding him that he's human and not a continuous machine like he so often thinks.

the elevator dings its arrival to the ground floor. metal doors open to welcome katsuki to a corridor flooding in silver. the moonlight dripping through the windows creates dancing shadows in its wake that flicker like ripples across a still pond. a cherry half-lidded gaze follows the curls and undulating lanes of phantoms as they shift in their dance within that ethereal haze.

katsuki steps foot into that gleaming inundation, and a quiver tickles the underside of his gut; immediately he stops in his tracks.

fuck was that?

the quiver travels from an empty gut up his spine, turning itself to frost — the damp towel still clinging from his neck suddenly feeling unbearably cold and heavy as the crystallization continues to run up his back, causing his movements to run jagged, slow. only his eyes move freely; they study the room, unsure of what they are looking for but knowing there is something that needs finding. they've been through enough to know better than to ignore this hunch.

katsuki finally manages to move his feet when red spots red smeared along the floor, brows furrowing as a narrowed gaze moves from one drop to another, the pin in his pupil piecing the cherry in his eye so that its nectar spills, intermixing with the matching stains that create a trail for him to follow. so he does.

cautious steps lead him to the kitchen, ‟ old man? ”

well, this wasn't at all what he was expecting — the ice that coats the tense muscles of his neck and back quickly melt, waters turning to a boil that help him move again.

he has learned to keep calm under pressure, yet the young hero can't help but move frantically. an explosive hand quickly taking the bottle thrust at him; he unscrews the cap and hands it over, though he keeps a tight grip on the bottom of the bottle, to help keep it steady as aizawa takes a drink. katsuki takes note of how badly the other seems to be trembling, as well as the sweat collecting at their temple, waves of raven feathers once so lively, now stick to his teachers forehead, limp and sticky.

katsuki has never been good at this whole givin' a fuck thing; extending his hand has always been difficult, no matter who was within its reach, yet having to see one who he admires in such a state of vulnerability ( birdcage wide open, trusting the claw of the cat to enter its space ) urges him forward. a free hand takes the damp towel from around his neck so he may run it across the hero's forehead, dabbin' up the sweat and hoping the coolness of its touch helps to soothe.

an intense gaze studies the man before him; he doesn't bother to ask if he's hurt, instead taking it upon himself to find out — his gaze falls along the others frame, searching for any marks of injury. eventually landing on the others shoes, the scarlet flaked along their surface catching his attention like a siren.

katsuki is able to gather that the blood didn't come from aizawa; which does little to relief / head snaps back up so that ruby may clash with onyx — ‟ oi, sensei. ”

he mutters, stern tone helping to hide the fact he was absolutely shittin' himself. he takes the towel and moves it to rest atop of his teachers head / other hand removing the bottle from his lips and placing it on the floor. he wants to ask what happened ( who's fuckin' blood is that..? ), but knows that's not what matters most right now. so instead he moves to settle himself underneath aizawa's left arm, so that his weight rested mainly upon katsuki's shoulders.

‟ we gotta getcha outta here. ”

slowly beginning to walk out of the kitchen and into the darkened hall, katsuki makes sure he isn't the one leading, still giving that right to his sensei as they make their way down the hall towards his room — he'll make sure to come back down to clean up the blood before anyone else wakes up.

[sdr2lovemail]

Neige x NRC! reader? Neige forms a crush on the reader upon meeting them

Two posts in one day! I am a writing machine!

I absolutely think Neige is the love at first sight hopeless romantic type. He's on a side quest to meet his one true love.

[Gender Nuetral Reader]

I hope you enjoy Anon!

Part 2 here!

Neige LeBlanche has a crush on an NRC student (NOT CLICKBAIT)

It was Twisted Wonderland’s annual sports festival. A time where two rivaling schools would attempt, and fail, to set aside their differences and play sports.

As they switched every year, it was Night Raven College’s turn to host. Much to Crowley, and many student’s chagrin, they set up the school to welcome the students and staff of Royal Sword Academy.

Neige LeBlanche was talented at many things; singing, acting, modeling, and so much more. Navigational skills were not one of those talents. Every corridor of NRC looked the same. It felt like he was in a never ending maze just trying to find a bathroom. In one of the many, many hallways is a group of students with stylish purple gym uniforms. They seem like nice people, maybe they could direct Neige to a bathroom.

He puts on his best smile and heads over. “Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me find a restroom. I’m afraid I’ve gotten lost.”

The Pomefiore students halt their conversation to stare at the doe eyed boy. There’s a long pause of silence before they double over in howling laughter.

One student, a boy with long black hair, pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “As if we would help an RSA student, especially you LeBlanche.” His gaze turns cold. “Now be a good little prince and get lost.”

Before Neige could respond, the Pomefiore students left him in their dust.

“Honestly, I should’ve expected something like that.” A metaphorical lightbulb shows up over Neige’s head. “I know, I’ll go find Vi! I’m sure he knows where to go…which way is that?”

After a few minutes of walking, Neige is sure he’s somewhere he shouldn’t be. There were no RSA students in sight, nor were there any from NRC. These hallways were dustier and had way more cobwebs than the others. It felt straight out of a horror movie. He should turn back…which way did he come from again?

“Grim? Come on, we have to get to the coliseum.”

There’s someone! Maybe it’s a person who can help him. Following the sound of the voice like a prince to a princess’ song, Neige finds himself with an NRC student.

Their gym uniform wasn’t as nice as the others. It didn’t seem to have a dorm crest on it either. “Oh hey, I don’t think you’re supposed to be on this side of the school.” Crowley had made sure to block off a large portion of the school. He was saying something about not letting Royal Sword Academy know their secrets. If the secrets were the students' unstable mental health, they might already know.

“Do you need some help getting back to the festival?” You smile at him.

Neige could feel his chest tighten and his face flush. Could it be? Were you the one he’s been searching for? His brave knight to help him through anything. His knight in a tattered gym uniform that’ll protect him and be by his side.

“Oh! Yes, it seems I’ve gotten lost. I would be very thankful if you could guide me to a restroom as well.”

A look of shock crossed your face. “You came all this way to use the restroom? You’re pretty much on the other side of campus. There was one in the coliseum.”

Neige felt his face glow brighter from embarrassment. “There was? Oh how silly of me!” He possibly just met his one true love and he’s already embarrassed himself.

“Hm, we’re pretty close to my dorm building. You can just use the bathroom there and then I can walk you back to the festival. Follow me, okay?” You both begin your walk to Ramshackle.

You were so kind. You just had to be his love! “Thank you so much! I was wondering if I could get your name?” He gives you a smile that could rival the sun. Your name reached his ears, and what a perfect name it was. If anyone were to listen to Neige’s thoughts it would seem as if he was ready to take your hand in marriage.

“Your name is so nice, it suits you perfectly. I’m Neige LeBlanche. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You’re Neige?!” You exclaim.

“Yup, have you seen me on TV before?”

You think back to every mean thing Vil has ever said about this boy. Every long winded fan rant Rook has ever gone on. “Oh, uh, two of my friends…talk…about you a lot. Hey, look at that we’re at Ramshackle. The bathroom will be the first door on the left.” You quickly gesture him towards the bathroom not wanting there to be questions about your friends.

Once Neige has done his business, the two of you venture back to the coliseum. Reaching the entrance, you remember something.

“I was supposed to find Grim! Gotta go, Neige. Try not to get lost anymore.” With a quick pat on the back, you run off to look for Grim leaving behind a blushing Neige. He could feel where your hand once sat on his back. He just has to see you again.

Later in the day, Neige could be found sitting with one of his friends, Shelpy. The boys were taking a break from the many physical activities the festival had given them. This time of rest was perfect for the actor to let out all his feelings.

“Oh Shelpy, they were just amazing. The way they came to my rescue when I was in a time of need. They have to be my dream come true.” Too wrapped up in his lovesick gushing, he didn’t notice that his green haired friend had long since fallen asleep.

Neige’s eyes suddenly go dull as a crestfallen look adorns his face. “Sadly, our love is forbidden, torn apart by rivaling schools. What would our friends think if I dated someone from NRC. People already tell me that Vi is bad news but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.”

He is quick to regain his usually chipper attitude. “No, I shouldn’t think like that.” Neige tilts his head back to gaze up at the sky. “Love always finds a way. Oh, my one true love, may we meet again soon.” Neige dreamily sighs.

[sokkastyles]

I was asked to write a response to this post, and as always I ask that you please don't dogpile on the OP, I was merely asked for my opinion. This also isn't an invitation to hate on anyone's ships, but it kind of baffles me that in the face of any criticism, people who ship Mai and Zuko will outright deny the characters' respective arcs in order to make it work, despite their ship being canon.

First the OP claims that Zuko shown taking some enjoyment from living like royalty "debunks" what the episode is telling us, that Zuko is experiencing turmoil over his place back home, especially after experiencing life among the people of the Earth Kingdom and witnessing how other people have less, and how the world has suffered as a result of the Fire Nation's greed. Except that OP’s example is a screenshot of Zuko looking uncomfortable as he takes a hot towel, after initially hesitating, which also happens after he refuses the other comforts he is offered. 

The hot towel is actually an oshibori, a Japanese symbol of hospitality that in America, is often associated with high class, as it is often offered on first class flights and luxury hotels and restaurants. The context here is clearly meant to show the Fire Nation excess, and that Zuko is unsure after being away for so long, and uncomfortable with being pampered especially after witnessing the horror the Fire Nation has caused in the rest of the world, leading up to his growing realization that he doesn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

Then we have the scene where he initially refuses the palanquin ride, and finally accepts, both because it would be awkward for him to protest too much, especially if he wants to fit in as prince, and also because yes, like any normal person, he does enjoy having people do things for him. Hence the little smile, the reassurance that it's okay for him to be pampered, which assuages some of the guilt he's been feeling since Ba Sing Se. He's the prince, he can tell himself, he deserves it. That's also why he takes the time to show off to his girlfriend a little a scene later by offering her anything she wants.

However, the message we are supposed to understand is still the same. Zuko is trying to convince himself that he should just accept being back as prince, but we know, and he knows, in his heart, that he should be listening to his guilty conscious.

I also find it baffling that OP says that this isn’t meant to show how Zuko has changed, but then also argues that Mai doesn’t know the extent of Zuko’s emotional turmoil. Which is true, but like, that’s the point OP seems to be missing, and the reason why people use this scene to point to the fact that Mai and Zuko fundamentally don’t understand each other.

She is not an Iroh - who can say exactly what he needs to hear or guide him on the right path. She is a teenage girl from another broken home who was never taught what love truly means. She was taught to restrain herself and her emotions. But when Zuko needs comfort the most - she provides it for him by attesting that despite all the things she doesn’t care for - she cares for him. She becomes emotionally vulnerable in front of Azula to comfort Zuko amidst his difficult times. And yes, In this example on The Beach - Zuko is shown to be comforted and cared for her by her words.

Like, of course she’s not Iroh. That’s the point. She’s not supposed to be. I’ve argued before that Mai’s narrative function is to be something of an anti-Iroh, because like Iroh, part of her narrative function is to give Zuko someone to bounce off of, so that he can voice what he’s thinking, to help the audience understand Zuko’s motivations. However, unlike Iroh, Mai’s main purpose is to keep Zuko tied to the Fire Nation, whereas Iroh encouraged him to seek redemption by looking elsewhere. She’s not supposed to guide Zuko down the right path, but serves rather as an obstacle he has to overcome in order to get back on it. That doesn’t exactly make for a healthy or lasting relationship.

The idea that Mai and Zuko’s relationship is good because Mai shows Zuko support by saying that she cares about him after he blames himself for his feelings in “The Beach” - including his earlier anger at her for being constantly apathetic while he’s hurting - doesn’t exactly scream healthy relationship or support, either. Rather than showing emotional support, she’s very deliberately choosing to support Zuko only when she doesn’t have to support him emotionally, when he internalizes his emotions instead of externalizing them.

Neither does, “I don’t care about anything but at least I care about you.” Like, that bar is so low it’s on the ground. Especially since everyone else around Zuko currently outright hates him.

Look at what Azula says right before. Mai knows that Zuko suffered constant and endless harassment and abuse from his sister and father. From the creators themselves:

“She’s known Zuko her whole life. She knows his life has been intense” - Bryan and Mike, The Beach Commentary

Funny how the creators have to word of god things because what they wrote doesn’t actually show what they wanted it to show. In actual canon, we have Mai telling Zuko that she “didn’t ask for his whole life story,” during their first scene as a couple after she hasn’t seen him for three years.

She’s known him his whole life...except for those three years between thirteen and sixteen, in which time he has grown from a child to a young adult and experienced drastic life changes. Changes which she said she didn’t want to hear about.

And, I mean, whatever, I try not the think the worst of things because people can ship what they want, and most of the problems with Mai and Zuko’s relationship happen because of poor writing choices, not outright abuse apologism, but I agree, let’s look at what Azula says. Let’s actually consider the ramifications of Mai, who had just broken up with Zuko, deciding that she cares about him and they’re back together now after Azula calls him pathetic. Once again Mai decides that she cares about Zuko and wants him back when he’s at a low point. At no point did she offer him emotional support when he was in turmoil. At no point does she dig into the root of why he is angry. Why would she? That would mean examining her own lifestyle and how it profits on the back of imperialism. But if Zuko is blaming himself for his anger - anger which really stems from the realization of how empty life in the Fire Nation really is, and his own guilt at being a part of it - then he’s not questioning any of that, and Azula has ended the argument by announcing that Zuko’s anger is pathetic and not worth examining. That also means Mai can get Zuko back without having to do any of the hard emotional or ethical work herself.

Yet shes the only one from his old life, other than Iroh, that shows unwavering and unconditional support to him. Like @thethiefandtheairbender said, “Mai gives Zuko a reason to love the home that spurned him.”

Actual photo of Iroh watching Mai and Zuko interact from his prison cell:

She’s the only one other than Iroh because she helped put Iroh in prison. You can argue about how loyal she is to Azula and whether she had a choice, but the fact of the matter is that the reason Iroh ain’t around, and Mai is the only one Zuko has to rely on, is because Iroh is in prison and Mai and Zuko would not have a relationship otherwise. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Zuko hadn’t chosen to side with Azula in Ba Sing Se. I can’t help but wonder if it’s ever crossed Zuko’s mind, as well, that if things had gone differently, he would have been in prison alongside Iroh instead of smooching Mai, and she would have helped to put him there. That’s like, so very much the opposite of unconditional support. It means that their relationship is conditional by necessity, by virtue of how it came about. All relationships are conditional anyway, which I will get to later, but THIS is very much not the type of condition that breeds a healthy relationship. What this is is actually the breeding ground for abuse and toxicity, but again, I’m going to assume the writers weren’t actually paying attention to any of that and didn’t intentionally write this relationship as the shit show that it is.

Also, on “Mai gives Zuko a reason to love the home that spurned him.” YES. That’s the PROBLEM. Mai’s function in the narrative is to keep Zuko in the Fire Nation long enough for him to get everything he ever wanted and then realize that this isn’t what he needs at all. That’s why, when he makes this realization, he also leaves Mai behind as well.

Yes, Zuko loves the Fire Nation, and a big part of his narrative is also becoming Fire Lord and redeeming his nation and reclaiming his homeland, but Mai explicitly in canon does not understand this part of Zuko, and refused to listen when he tries to explain it to her.

So back to the Nightmares and Daydreams episode. Mai’s immediate thought is to cheer Zuko up with something that gave him comfort five minutes before.

When that doesn’t work, we see Mai’s unemotional facade break down. She knows that this is something he has to figure out on his own. Her face shows pure empathy, that he must be going through something very troubling. But she doesn’t force him to stay with her. She gives him space to come to terms with his own emotions. She doesn’t stick by him or force him to cheer up after she sees her methods DIDNT work. She doesn’t get frustrated. She feels empathy for him.

And then antis claim that Mai bringing up the whole war meeting was a way to make light of Zuko’s trauma or that she didn’t want him to ruin their happy mood. Yet they conveniently forget that Mai waited outside for the entire duration of the war meeting for Zuko - and immediately asks him how it went - ensuring that things didn’t transpire the way it did at the last war meeting. For them, it’s impossible to see that what Mai said was a matter of true concern for Zuko’s safety. But her actions prove otherwise.

I actually have said that I thought Mai was concerned for Zuko’s safety, but that isn’t enough for me to consider that it’s a good relationship, because like, that’s the very least Mai can be. I do think that their conversation fundamentally shows that she doesn’t understand him, though. Nor do I think she really understands the very real danger he is in, otherwise she wouldn’t be happy when Zuko does go to the meeting, knowing what happened to him the last time he attended one. Because Zuko is not safe any time Ozai has access to him.

But going back to Mai bringing back up the idea of ordering servants around to cheer him up, let’s look at the transcript:

Mai: You know what will make you feel better? [Zuko turns his head slightly.] Ordering some servants around. I might be hungry for a whole tray of fruit tarts. And maybe a little palanquin ride around town. Double time.

She turns Zuko's face to look at her, but he quickly looks away, making Mai let go of him.

Rather than being cheered up, Zuko reacts negatively to her suggestion, and the reason why lies in the previous scene where fruit tarts and palanquin rides were referenced. Because Mai didn’t see and doesn’t understand Zuko’s discomfort with those excesses. She can’t. She only sees the face Zuko puts on because he’s trying to both impress her and assuage his own guilt. That’s why her attempt to cheer him up falls flat here.

And actually, we don’t see Mai give Zuko space or comfort him or show empathy. The scene cuts off there, and the next time we see Mai and Zuko, he is being told he actually is invited to the meeting, and Mai is happy for him. Note that nothing has changed. The danger hasn’t gone away, nor Zuko’s worries. Ozai has just arbitrarily decided that Zuko is now invited to the meeting, and acts like he always was, which is really Ozai playing mind games with his son and actually shows how dangerous and manipulative Ozai is. Zuko doesn’t pick up on this because he’s desperate for his father’s approval, but he will after the meeting. Mai doesn’t pick up on it because she doesn’t really know Zuko or his inner turmoil, nor does she really understand the depth of how evil the Fire Nation really is.

Mai listens to Zuko unwaveringly while he explains how during the meeting, he was the perfect fire nation prince but he wasn’t himself. She doesn’t cut him off out of boredom. She doesn’t shut down his emotions or tells him to feel a way he shouldn’t. After the Beach episode, she learns to listen to him - proving her character development. She’s engaged, she’s listening. She is once again - supporting Zuko throughout his emotional turmoil.

Once again, this is kind of a low bar to prove Mai’s “unwavering support” because the scene cuts off right after Zuko says he wasn’t himself during the meeting. We don’t see her reaction at all. We can, however, assume that whatever it was, it was enough to convince Zuko that he couldn’t confide in her in person about his realization that he needed to leave and join the Avatar and restore honor to the Fire Nation. Her reaction to him when she confronts him about this in “The Boiling Rock” further confirms this, as she refuses to listen when he tries to make her understand. So if we had been shown this conversation, I don’t think it would show Mai being supportive or understanding.

I will never understand the argument that Zuko’s relationship with Mai represents a regression because he wasn’t being himself when he was in the fire nation. Let’s get a couple of things straight. Zuko had to return to the fire nation to truly confirm for himself that he was making the right decision. But the fire nation will always be Zuko’s home. That is why he is coronated as the fire lord at the end. Throughout season 3, Mai experiences Zuko’s good, bad, and ugly. He never once put up a facade around her. She experienced everything - the emotional turmoil, the parts where he pretended to be the perfect prince, the part where he truly loved spending time with her.

Yet OP admitted earlier in the post that Mai DIDN’T know the side of Zuko that worked as a tea server in Ba Sing Se and saw firsthand the plight of the refugees. She didn’t know the part of Zuko that felt uncomfortable being waited on unnecessarily. She didn’t know the part of Zuko that sat in a war meeting and bravely defended the Earth Kingdom people because it was the right thing to do. She didn’t know because she didn’t ask for his life story. And she still doesn’t, by the end, either. She does not understand when Zuko tells her that he has to save his country. This is textually what happens in the show. There’s no argument here. It’s just wrong to say that Zuko didn’t put up a facade around Mai and that Mai always understood Zuko, because we can see that this is not what happens in the story.

the only thing she did was hold him accountable when he was acting like an ass.

How did she hold him accountable? By deciding that she cares about him after he internalizes his anger and the conversation is over? Did he apologize to her for his outburst at the party? Show that he wouldn’t do it again? Or did she just decide to get back together with him when it was convenient for her? This is not what accountability looks like.

Mai was there for Zuko when no one else from his old life was.

See what I said about Iroh doing the Ben Afleck thing from his prison cell.

And if their relationship was a regression - then why did the creators have Mai stand up against Azula and everything she knew her whole life - for Zuko and his mission? That argument would make sense if there was no episode called The Boiling Rock.

Why would Mai NEED to stand up to Azula when she was about to kill Zuko unless she had a realization that Zuko’s life and mission were more important than selfishly clinging to her relationship with him? That was the whole point of their encounters in that episode. Mai and Zuko’s relationship was SUPPOSED to be a regression, and Zuko chose to leave it behind, and that was what Mai had to realize. Further, the entire reason that Mai needed to stop Azula in the first place was because Mai put Zuko’s life in danger because she was mad that he broke up with her. The whole point was Mai redeeming herself by letting Zuko go, despite the fact that he was “the jerk who dumped [her].” It’s a pity that the writers didn’t stick to that, though, and instead had her go back to demanding that he be in a relationship with her in the end.

That Love isn’t conditional based on someone’s morality or redeemable actions.

I told you I would get back to this. It’s not even true that Mai loves Zuko unconditionally, as I said, but in any case, the concept of “unconditional love” should be thrown out when we’re talking about romantic relationships. Don’t get me wrong, the conditions under which Mai loves Zuko still aren’t healthy, but there are times when it is both healthy and necessary for love to be conditional. Morality and redeemable actions, as it happens, absolutely are two of those conditions that love depends on.

Like, what on earth even is this argument. If the person you love doesn’t have morals that align to yours and doesn’t have redeeming qualities in your eyes, then there’s nothing to base the relationship on, other than, say, a mutual hatred of the world and a vague sense that you don’t hate each other. Which does not make a healthy or lasting relationship, or even a romantic one.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

I Must Be Blind (Jonathan Crane x Reader)

"You really don't like Titanic?" You asked Jonathan as the two of you were cuddled up on the couch. His tie was loosened and a couple of his shirt buttons lay open. Both sleeves were rolled up between his wrists and elbows. Both arms wrapped around you as you sat between his legs. Your own legs lay over the arm of the couch. "It's not that I don't like it. I just find it overrated. It gets most of its popularity for being a love story and I believe there are better ones out there." He explained. "Like what?" You asked. "Such as... the Man who Laughs." Jonathan turned his head to look at you. "Isn't that a horror movie and incredibly old?" You asked. Jonathan smiled. "It is but there is romance in it." "You might need to fill me in with this part...I haven't seen it." You said as you played with his fingers. He smiled fondly yet amused at you. "I believe its from 1928. It’s about a boy who grows up in a circle. A king, when that boy was young, mutilated the boys face into a constant grin. Like the Joker's but Joker can close his mouth. The boy couldn't." "That's horrific." You said and Jonathan continued. “He is shunned from society and considered a freak with this mutilation. He grows up with low self-esteem. He likened himself of something as monstrous, ugly. However he had one friend. This friend was blind. She used touch to make her way around the world. She insisted all of the time that he had nothing to fear. That to her, even if she cannot see him, he's beautiful to her. The two fell in love. Still he hid covering his mouth whenever she touched his face until the moment he was brave enough to guide her hands to his mutilated mouth. He loved her so much that he didn't want to hide from her anymore and she simply smiled at him. She accepted him, she didn't care for his appearance. He was still beautiful and she still loved him. I always did enjoy that, I suppose I could relate in some way." You cracked a small smile at him. "Jonathan, I don't think I need to tell you how gorgeous you are. It's game over when you smile." You replied and he chuckled. "Perhaps, but not in person. I am not what one would consider a good man. Socially, I have my differences and that is down to my upbringing." "Which isn't your fault." You retorted. "No, but it wasn't the man's fault either and believe it or not, darling, no one sees me the way you do." He said softly. You looked at him for a moment. The two of you simply looking at one another. "Well now that just makes me lucky doesn't it?" You smiled slightly and he breathed out a laugh. "I can't complain too much, Jonathan. I get to be with the most remarkable man I've ever known. I don't have to fight the whole of Gotham for him because if they knew what I see everyday, they'd all want a piece of you." You squeezed his hand. "You try. That's all I could ever want. Sure you aren't an open book. Perhaps you can't love people in the same way as everyone else but that means nothing." You wound your arms around his shoulders, pulling you into him. "You haven't hurt me once and you wouldn't. I know that. You know that. So your heart isn't on your sleeve, it doesn't mean you don't have one. There are people out there who think love is to own someone. Or those who think violence is love. Does it bother you so much that you..." You trailed off. You didn't want to say the word. Psychopaths had such a bad reputation, a stigma almost. Not all psychopaths were serial killers and even if Jonathan had done some horrible things and desired to harm others, he didn't always do so.  You couldn't say you liked what he did but you couldn't deny how Jonathan put genuine thought over ever little choice around you. He could manipulate you but he hasn't. He could hurt you in many ways beyond physically and instead he had gone out of his way to do the opposite. Perhaps you were just as deluded to overlook the very real possibility that this all was a part of his manipulation. Perhaps you were blind. You cupped his face. "If I'm blind, then so be it. I made my choices. It doesn't make me love you any less." Jonathan pressed his forehead against yours before kissing you softly. "You know, I do though, don't you?" He asked quietly. "Yes Jonathan, I know you love me." You smiled with amusement. "In your own way. Lucky lucky me." There was a moment of silence. "Jonathan?" "Yes, dear?" He asked quietly. "Do you think the Joker knows about that movie?" You asked and he huffed out a laugh. "I don't know, probably not but let's not be the ones to tell him that he isn't so original as he thinks." The two of you laughed.