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sanyu-thewitch05 · 10 months ago

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Yandere Superhero X Villain! F! Reader

Wanna buy me a coffee: ☕

TW: Dubcon, spankings, kidnapping, bodily horror

PT.2

Your real name is Y/N L/N, but your villain name is Anima. After your latest failure in trying to find a job, you went into the woods to end it all. Then, by some miracle, an entity older than any Abrahamic religion found your dead body and brought you back to life. Your senses were heightened, and you could hear the animal's chatter and noises as words. With a new feeling of power, you went through society doing whatever you wanted. Even if it meant a few people with broken bones or blood on the floor. That was until a superhero by the name of superhero by the name of Ultimate Man appeared and started defeating you in battle.

He isn't going to be a problem anymore after you take him out with your new suit. Not only does it have the abilities and strengths of every animal alive, but it has the strengths and abilities of the extinct ones. It took kidnapping a paleontologist, but it is so worth it.

"Anima, surrender, and you won't get hurt," Ultimate Man commands, floating a few feet above the ground.

"Sorry, but rent's due," You say, running off with the bags of money from the bank.

As you run, he shoots lasers at you, but you dodge them by zigzagging. Unfortunately, this leads to you not paying attention to where you're going, and you run yourself off a harbor walk. The money sinks into the ocean, and you struggle to swim back up. You switch to the abilities of any marine animal, but it's still not helping you. You see your feet entangled in seaweed and try to break free. Your struggle to free yourself has worn you out, and it seems like this is your last run. Your vision goes black as your instincts tell you to go up to the surface and breathe.

~~~~~~~~~~

When you open your eyes, your jaw and ass feel sore. You try to talk, but there's a gag in your mouth.

"How dare you be such a bad girl and cause so much trouble? Do you have no respect for anyone in this city? Who cares if your rent is due? Get! A! Fucking! Job!" Ultimate Man rants, spanking your ass after every word.

"MM! MH! AWCH!" You scream, your legs kicking as Ultimate Man uses his godly strength to spank you.

The tight latex suit didn't help with the spankings, in fact, the material made sure your body could feel them at their full force.

"Oh, I see the worst girl of the century has awakened. How does it feel knowing you almost got yourself killed trying to steal money?" Ultimate Man asks, taking off your gag.

His blonde hair with light blue highlights, aquamarine eyes, and skin-tight latex white and blue suit is a sight for the eyes. His appearance is ethereal, representing his alien origin from outer space sent to help out Earth on its newest supernatural threat(you.) Who knew having the power of every animal in existence would warrant alien help for the planet Earth?

"I'm sorry, Ultimate Man. I was only trying to pay my rent. Honest," You plead, bracing for another swat to the ass. "I didn't get the raise at my job, even though I deserve it, and I couldn't pay this month's rent."

"I believe you," Ultimate Man says, his hand still rubbing your ass. "But that doesn't mean I forgive you for what you did. I was so worried when you didn't rise from the water. I thought I lost you forever. I need a suitable mate, and you're the only one with abilities almost equal to mine on this planet."

"I'm sorry, WHAT?! I thought you were in a relationship with that news writer, Lora?" You ask, lifting your head.

"Are you kidding me? We're just friends. She couldn't compare to your beauty and strength. Now then, how about we get to know each other."

Ultimate Man peels off your eye mask, then takes out his contacts. There are no pupils in his eyes, just pools of aquamarine. It creeps you out, but at least he's still hot.

"I'm ☍⍀⍜⎍☍⟒⋏ ⏃⏃⍀☍⟒⋔. But you can call me Krouken Aarkem, which is pronounced Cro-oo-can Ar-kem. My human father calls me Ken. Now, what's your name?" Ultimate Man asks, lifting your body with ease.

"It's Marnie," You lie, not wanting to give him your real name.

His fingertips glow blue, and he places them on your head. Pain takes over your head as he searches through the deepest parts of your memory.

"Y/N M/N L/N. What a beautiful name. I'll make sure to bring over your cat so you can have your baby," Krouken says, removing his hands from you.

You slap him and stumble to the other side of the couch.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You groan, holding your head.

"What did I do wrong? Please don't be mad at me!" Krouken cries, jumping onto your body and hugging you tightly. "I'll never do it again unless you want me to! I promise! Just don't be mad at me!"

"Alright! Alright! I'm not mad at you! Just get off of me!" You yell, pushing him off you after feeling his boner on your leg.

"Yay! Now, we can engage in the Plutonian ritual we call Improving."

Krouken starts taking off his suit, revealing his naked body to you. You back up but bump into the couch, leaving you nowhere to run. He touches your suit, liquifying the material and making it fall off your body like water. Krouken kisses you, his hand tracing every part of your body as if he were memorizing it.

"Your heart is beating fast? Do you want to fight me?" Krouken asks his hand on your chest.

"No. It's just something the human body does when we feel certain emotions," You explain, holding Krouken's hand.

"So you are excited to Improve too? Excellent, I can move forward," Krouken replies, his two dicks merging into one with the width of an adult's fist.

Your eyes widen in fear of the inhuman cock in front of you. There was no way it was going to fit. It was too wide to fit in your human pussy. If it were to go inside you, you'd feel it in your lungs.

"Wait, I think we should-" You plead, only for Krouken to shove his massive cock inside of you.

You can feel it moving inside as if his dick was made from thousands of little suction cups that were kissing your vaginal walls. Krouken's arm holds you in place, and he thrusts.

"Keep going, Krouken!" You moan, lifting your leg and putting it on his shoulder.

Krouken bites and sucks your nipples as he thrusts faster, his dick suction cups losing their grip and becoming more slippery.

"You're never going to be a bad girl ever again. I'm going to fill your stomach up with so many babies that you'll never be able to think of doing stupid shit without having trouble standing up. You're going to birth the next generation of my people. You're mine, all mine. Not those villain's colleague or someone else's enemy, mine," Krouken rambles, thrusting at an inhuman rate, destroying whatever tightness your pussy had.

His eyes become white as he cums, his alien cock suction cups releasing thousands of sperm. Upon his sperm's release, his genital suction cups regained their grip on your walls, and sucking on them, making you go into overdrive. You cum on his dick, and he shudders. Both of you relish in your afterglow, sweat dripping from your body.

"So, what did you think of Improving?" Krouken asks, his head resting on your breasts.

"It was good. By the way, why do your people call it that?" You ask, rubbing Krouken's wet hair.

"Because we improve each other's bodies. Once my seed is in you, it will rework some human DNA so you'll be more like me and vice versa. Your skin is already starting to become shiny and ethereal like my skin," Krouken answers, kissing your neck.

Your body feels extremely hot, like lava is in your veins, and your eyes are burning like no tomorrow. Your spine releases a horrifying crack as your body involuntarily jolts upwards. All you can do is scream as your bones and body transform permanently.

#yandere superhero #yandere alien #yandere x reader #f! reader #yandere dubcon #yandere teratophilia #villain! reader #sanyuthewitch05 #yandere smut

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kcscribbler · 8 months ago

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Seven Sentence Sunday

Tagged by the ever-early @elodiah.

I'm still fiddling with a few WIPs right now and won't be online a lot of the week, so instead have the scene I cut from a recent chapter. I posted bits of it here before and eventually decided to cut it completely. Hope that's okay. 😅

--SOME HOURS LATER--

A warm hand on his brow is what wakes him however long it is later, startling him out of what feels like a remarkably painless sleep, all things considered.

He is not destined for godly or mortal paradise, and this surely cannot be Hel?

Mobius makes a vaguely surprised noise when he realizes Loki’s eyes are open. “Hey, there you are.”

His own eyes are dark-shadowed, pinched at the corners as they always are when he has a headache, but he seems much calmer than Loki remembers last seeing him. And looks utterly exhausted. His hair is sticking up everywhere, as if he’s been dragging his hands through it repeatedly.

“Are you really awake this time?”

Loki blinks for a few seconds, trying to sort through the confused muddle of his last recollection, before nodding somewhat uncertainly.

Mobius chuckles, and reaches somewhere beyond Loki’s vision, bringing back a plastic bottle of water and uncapping it. “Go slow,” he warns, slipping a hand behind Loki’s neck to assist with a better angle.

Cool and refreshing, the water is most welcome. It serves to slowly wash back what Loki now realizes must have been a very near-death experience, if his memories are accurate. The acrid bite of the cursed dagger seems to have vanished, as it should have within these walls and the cast Runes they hold; and while the wound is no longer radiating such agony as he last remembers, it is very much still in existence, that much is clear.

Even the small effort of drinking seems to sap the rest of his energy, however, and it is with great struggle that he forces his eyes open again, not willing to fall back into that darkness without first ascertaining their safety. He appears to be lying semi-sprawled on the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut. A downy pillow rests under his head, and he is covered with what feels like half a dozen coverings – but that is definitely the hard, chilled stone floor under him.

Oh. Yes, good. Mobius had understood Loki’s basically non-existent directions, and had opened a Door directly beneath them to drop them into relative safety in the Citadel. It would have been a bit of a tumble, but certainly better than remaining where they were. Loki spares a brief moment to be impressed that Mobius had figured it out quickly enough to keep him from exsanguination, but that full story will likely need to wait.

Mobius puts a hand on his shoulder, as if reading his confusion on his face. “I assume we’re safe, for now,” he reassures, calm and soothing. “And do I have a load of questions for you about this place! When you’re feeling better, anyway.”

“…Questions?”

“They can wait. You need rest.”

Loki shifts a bit against the cold floor, and immediately is informed by his own physiology of just how not healed he is. Mobius’ face twists in sympathy. “You’re doing a lot better than you were yesterday, but it’s not gonna be a fun recovery, I'm guessing. ‘Specially without magic."

“If this is a lot better,” Loki rasps, breathing heavily, “then I shudder to think of the previous state.”

Mobius worries at a little string fraying on one of the blankets. “You’re not the only one,” he finally says. “I was sure Valhalla was putting another place setting on that long table.”

Loki reaches up to place an unsteady hand on his, noting the absence of the ring which had done its job perhaps a little too well. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“You should be,” Mobius retorts, but he turns his hand to lace their fingers tightly. “Oldest trick in the book, and you fell right for it. Damn it, Loki.”

“Forgive me if I find it rather difficult to focus on myself when there is a lesser variant of me with a blade at your throat.” Mobius snorts, amused despite himself at the designation. Loki exhales in a pained grunt. “Might we adjourn to something softer than the floor?”

“I think so, yeah. If you can make it upright for a few seconds, I can use the momentum to get you settled. I’ll get you something to drink with sugar in it, too. Even if your magic kicks back in, it isn’t gonna fix blood loss. You really need a doctor.”

“I would like to try to heal myself first, if you’d be so kind as to assist.”

Mobius nods and gets to one knee beside what Loki now realizes is a makeshift pallet on the floor; and no wonder, since Mobius could never have gotten him up alone. The runes hidden in the walls were just enough to cancel out the curse from the blade, though it does not feel as if his magic is even close to returning. Perhaps assisting a bit with healing, but nothing more.

Brows drawn with worry, Mobius locks one hand around Loki’s and firmly grasps a bony elbow with the other hand. “Ready?” he asks.

Loki nods, braces himself with opposite hand against the floor, and clenches his jaw to prevent a shout of pain when he pushes off, hauled to his feet and kept there with remarkable strength given that it takes a moment for him to find his footing. It is only a few meters to the bed, but it might well have been light-years, for as much as he is exhausted again, limp and breathing heavily, when they finally reach it.

Mobius fusses for a few minutes with the pillows, carefully arranging them so Loki can sleep on his uninjured side instead of his back, facing the middle of the bed. A glass of some sweet-smelling fruit juice is held to Loki’s lips, and then set on the table after he drinks from it. Mobius then retrieves the blankets from the floor, arranging and rearranging them until Loki, already half-asleep again, finally drags his eyes open and catches his wrist mid-action.

“What is it? What do you need?”

“You,” Loki whispers. “I need you safe, and I need you to rest. Please.”

It is telling that he gets no argument against the latter. Mobius just nods, and then after a moment of hesitation slips off his shoes and settles somewhat awkwardly on the other half of the not-exactly-oversized bed. Loki watches through half-closed lids as he fidgets with the unfamiliar sleeves of the pajamas. Discovered prowling around, no doubt, while Loki slept. He turns up the cuffs of the simple brown top, and then unrolls them again. And again. And again.

His hands are shaking.

“Are you all right?” Loki asks.

Mobius immediately stops and then squirrels under the sheet and quilt, offering what Loki can immediately tell is a forced smile as he settles in, hands folded neatly over his chest. “Don’t you worry about me,” he says quietly.

Loki’s lips curve in a faint smile. “I have done nothing but that, these last months,” he admits. It is, perhaps, a little too honest, a little too fraught with pain, for right now. “With good reason, it would seem. I told you that you were too trusting.”

A faint snort, but Mobius seems to then relax and fall back into old bantering habits, exhaling in a gusty sigh. “Yeah, yeah. Rub it in.” He side-eyes Loki briefly, and despite the weight of these last months seems to silently agree that, and all its unspoken consequences, is a discussion for the morrow. Instead, he simply turns on his side to face Loki, watchful and silent.

Loki manages a shallow, measured exhale and inhale. Another, and then another, until the pain is bearable.

“Please tell me we’re not going to talk about things right now,” he then rasps.

A brief chuckle, even if it’s tinged with sadness. “Not unless you want to.”

“Actually, I do. But not – not until I can think clearly,” he says, a little more candid than he meant. He blinks a few times and allows the pain to settle, to become a Thing of the body, not the mind. He has had far worse, after all.

Mobius huffs what seems to be a sigh of relief. “Sounds like a plan.” He pats Loki’s shoulder and then turns to shut off the light.

Loki’s eyelids droop against his will, but he reaches out across the space, careful not to stretch too far, and settles for leaving his hand there as he loses the fight against sleep.

Tagging @lokimobius @doomed-spectacles @insert-witty-user-name-here @mirilyawrites @loki-is-my-kink-awakening

@in-my-loki-feels @andthekitchensinkao3 @mythical-magik @scifikimmi and @thosegayoldmen

Whatcha workin' on this week?

#seven sentence sunday #more like strikethrough sunday #but anyhow #loki #loki series #lokius

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tears-of-amber · 2 months ago

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Larvikite (My UPG on the properties of this stone as well as a few facts about its origins)

Larvikite is a stone I heavily associate with the Norse god Odin. Here is why; Larvikite originates from Larvik Norway, and is named after the place where it was found (Larvik-ite). It is also known as “blue pearl granite”, and after deep meditation i gained insight into its properties (or at least what energy I perceived it to have). It’s a dark stone with few ice cold pearly flashes, but is not to be confused with Labradorite or the flash of that very different stone. It comes in varying shades of grey and is very surprising in its beauty, because it contains so much depth in both energy and appearance. Why I associate it with Odin is first of all because of its grey hue (as many know, Odin is also referred to as “Grey-beard” in historical contexts) and its pale white-ish blue flashes remind me of the pearly blue of a blind eye. And as is well known, Odin gave up his eye to gain wisdom (meaning the eye he gave up would eventually glaze over in the color o Larvikite’s pearly pale flashes). Larvikite is unlike any of the darker colored stones I’ve encountered. Its presence is far from grounding, and it’s very much a divine wisdom type of stone that has helped me experience out of body spiritual visions and experiences. I think this lines up perfectly with Odin’s godly domain and associations. As for the element Larvikite is associated with, it is heavily associated with water according to many crystal healers and magic practitioners. I think this makes sense because in Norse mythology it is often from water or liquids that many types of wisdom, poetry, etc originates. Think about the well of wisdom, and in a more literal sense: one cannot live without water for very long. One cannot survive very long without being wise or at least savvy in one way or another, especially in old Norse culture. Anyway, as a bonus (like I mentioned before) Larvikite comes from Norway, a land tied deeply to Odin’s worship.

Mind you, these are just the conclusions I came to. There are no right answers in the sense of crystals and their properties, only personal experiences. So yeah! Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t!

-Velvet Rose

#witchblr #pagan #norse heathen #heathenry #spirituality #crystal witch #Larvikite #Odin #Norse gods #norse deities #norse paganism

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thatgirl4815 · 1 year ago

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I found it hilarious that Jojo has been loosely touting a Taylor Swift parallel when it comes to Mew and his relationship with Top (and it's obviously a surface level joke) but if you actually listen to the songs in Reputation and Lover...the storytelling is 100% Ray. It's finding love at your lowest. The self-loathing, seeking love as salvation, blowing up good things in fear and realizing too late, secret rendezvous where neither knows what game is really being played, finding their purported last love in a world that hated them--who is all of these things but Ray?

The Taylor Swift thing is mostly just an entertaining observation for me but the thing that the thematic elements and imagery in her music prompted me to re-think was that famous final scene in episode 10. While you watch Ray's eyes morph the therapist into Sand, there's a stoic golden glow to imaginary-Sand as he sits in the therapist's chair like a throne, as though you've walked into a temple dedicated to him--a temple Ray has dedicated to him. It's almost like Ray has always seen Sand as a god.

Throughout the confession that follows, Imaginary-Sand is mostly emotionless, minimally responding to Ray as Ray maintains an incredibly reverent face despite breaking down in tears. The apology contains so many reused phrases as though Ray were reciting some sort of prayer, and even while sitting in the sofa, the camera kind of points up at Sand rather than at the even level he is really at when you see things through Ray's vision. Finally, when Ray gets on his knees and imaginary-Sand appears to console him, it's not clearly romantic or friendly. There's a godliness to it. The point is, the whole thing just felt akin to a religious awakening to me. And then I realized I felt those same feelings emanating from Ray in the caravan, in the music room, at the party, drunk in the parking lot, on the rooftop, in the kitchen(s), when they wake up together for the first time...

I don't know what this means for the relationship Ray and Sand have and whether it will ever really be healthy, but it certainly made for poetic cinema. Has Sand eclipsed the unattainable Mew? Has he become the unconditional heavenly father (I say, mostly in jest)? Another point of consideration is that Ray always seems to be wearing a cross. Just saying.

Anyway this theory is pretty out there, and in any case, it's less about proving the idea and more about seeing what others thought about it as a vantage point of discussion, and whether it colors how Ray, and Sand and Ray as a couple, are interpreted.

Those are such great observations! Taylor Swift's lyricism is so fascinating and complex to me, and I agree that there are so many lyrics that could easily apply to Ray.

In my opinion, Ray is easily the most complicated character in this show. It's no wonder they chose Khaotung to play him because there are so many feelings he has to work through, especially in these emotionally-charged scenes. When the camera pans behind Ray's head and Sand appears, Ray slowly looks up at him with tears in his eyes. That first moment when he meets eyes with him and says his name just speaks to how agonizing this confrontation is for Ray, because he's confronting himself through the image of Sand. This entire scene is the acceptance of just how much Sand means to Ray, just how badly Ray has screwed up yet again, and just how much gratitude Ray has for Sand in his heart.

Your analysis of the religious aspects of the scene is so compelling. The golden coloring behind Sand echoes a lot of what @thewayuarent has analyzed about the contrast between cold blue lighting and warm gold lighting for both Sand and Ray. Also interesting your point about how the camera is slightly angled up at Sand rather than at eye-level. Originally I wouldn't think too much of this but contrasted with the shots of Ray at eye-level, it seems super intentional.

"Religious awakening" is a great way of describing it. There's been a lot of discussion about Ray putting Mew on a pedestal and idolizing him, but I think we see a similar kind of reverence being displayed here, but with some notable differences. With Mew, it felt like he was always something distant, something Ray wanted but could never quite touch. But in this scene, we have Ray facing Sand, on his knees for him, embracing him. Despite the whole thing being imaginary, it feels very real in a way I struggle to articulate. There's a worshipping aspect, I agree, but there's also a realism in the way Ray is very honestly considering his emotions. With Mew, I'd argue those feelings of idolization were allowed to grow out of Ray's fantasy, but with Sand, it isn't something Ray has blown up in his head. My main point being--I don't think it's necessarily suggesting an unhealthy power imbalance with Ray as the worshipper and Sand as the godly figure (in the way we saw with Ray and Mew), though I think this scene does an excellent job of emphasizing how Ray views Sand as someone honestly and purely good.

Another reason I think Khao delivers this so well is that he speaks through his eyes in every one of those scenes you mention. He sees all of Sand's goodness, but I don't think he's directly confronted his own behavior until this moment. Yes, he's apologized and yes he's realized that he was in the wrong. But here he is laying it all out on the table. Following the topic of religion, it almost feels like a confession. In Ray's imagination, this is a space where he can expel all of his feelings to the image of Sand. It's almost better that Sand can't react here (seeing as he's imaginary) because it brings the focus back to Ray. Even though Ray is crying to Sand and about Sand, it's all a reflection of his own flaws in their relationship and otherwise.

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jflashandclash · 8 months ago

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Axel: Into the Lion’s Maw VII

The rest of the walk back was, admittedly, a little awkward. Axel didn’t mean to make Ethan go so pale or shut up so abruptly.

However, if he said he wasn’t proud of the Leonis Caput’s charm, he would be lying.

He and Ethan stepped through an archway of gold. The room on the other side was still illuminated with turquoise fire.

A cheer erupted. “It’s the Lion!” someone shouted.

“They didn’t leave us!”

From a glance over, Axel saw anger replace Ethan’s fear. His scowl returned. Someone, Axel suspected, didn’t like being rescued.

After their heart-to-heart, Axel wasn’t going to let Ethan out of his sight. Nor was he going to waste a moment where another hostile deity could appear. He was impressed Ailiseu had kept everyone corralled within his turquoise flames. These soldiers didn’t need to discover that the flames were nothing more than light tricks that Uncle Frasco had taught him to use in the circus.

“Get in two lines, side-by-side,” Axel said, pacing back and forth in front of them to establish the start of the lines. Like herding his siblings. “Everyone hold onto the person in front of you. Keep your weapon in your other hand. No one goes off alone—is that clear?” There were nods of understanding as the troop scrambled to obey. “If you hear Mary, do not engage.”

Axel pivot turned to face the golden-arched doorway. “And Mary,” he called, in the event the goddess had perked back up, “You are not to approach my troops without explicit permission.”[1]

“Kronos’ troops,” Ethan growled.

Axel glared. “Once we rejoin.” Then, they would be Kronos’ troops again. Until then, Axel pointed beside him. “You’re leading the second column.” To the others, “Protect your side of the column!”

He glanced around the floor for a dim glow. Not through the golden archway. Not through the silver one. This was going to make him look really stupid if he got them all organized to play Guess Which Way Leads to Death. He did have—what had Ethan called it? Clear vision? Right?

Something touched his neck—or hadn’t yet?—he saw a flicker of finger movement, felt the caress moments after, and saw the echo of the hand before it vanished. Three transparent white gloves that blurred into one: Hecate.

Always here to give a third option, the helm mused.

Axel couldn’t respond. His knees had gone weak, but he couldn’t reveal that in front of the other demigods.

Hecate had trace up to his chin, tilting his head up.

There, above them, the roof was glowing with a Greek D.

Axel shook off the phantom sensation, unsure if it had been real. “Excuse me,” he said to Ailiseu, borrowing their pilum. He tapped the symbol.

A retractable ladder popped out of the ceiling, joints groaning as it extended. Demigods exclaimed and ooed. He used the pilum to tug it down within reach, thinking, no matter how badly he wanted to, it might look undignified to jump for the bottom rung. As though constructed by the Fates, the ladder was wide enough to accommodate two people at once. He just hoped it was strong enough.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder. This time, it wasn’t a crazed goddess or his friend’s godly mother. It was Ailiseu, nodding their head gravely. He handed them back the pilum. “Thank you.”

Behind them and behind Ethan, the demigod soldiers had lined up appropriately. They had expressions of scared hopefulness.

Was that a good attitude to take into battle?

Say something.

At times like this, Axel wished they had a better name for themselves. Camp Half-Blood had “campers” or “Greeks.” Camp Jupiter had “legionaries” or “Romans.” Kronians sounded too much like cronies. When Pax had suggested “Tambourines” for Mount Tam, Axel stopped the conversation before it caught on. They were a blend of nationalities and godly ancestry. Axel wasn’t even a demigod: the one thing the rest of them shared. What brought them together?

He cleared his throat, tilted up his chin, and projected the way Uncle Frasco had taught him.

“We were forgotten. We were abandoned. Neglected. Abused,” he glanced down the two columns, hoping each soldier felt seen. “Camp Half-Blood worships our abusers. They pay tribute at every meal to those who tormented us or left us to torment.”

One of the newer demigods raised his sword and shouted, “Fuck those guys!”

There came a cheer.

Axel grinned fiercely. He raised his own sword in salute. “We fight for Camp Othrys! We fight for freedom from tyranny!” Cheers continued between each sentence. “We will defeat those that defend the practice of dictators!” Axel remembered Pax telling him how boring it got when he speechified about tyranny and oppression and how he should keep it simple unless he was speaking with Witch Boy.

So, to finish off, he shouted, “Let’s go kick their asses!”

The tunnel echoed with a roar of approval and agreement.

As Axel and Ethan each placed a foot on the ladder, relieved to find it held their weight and that of the demigods behind them, the Leonis caput added, “I will lead us into battle!”

***

*Jack crawls from the grave to set this as a tiny offering to its followers’ shrine before crawling back into its grave to seek out a juicier offering for next time*

Thank you for reading! I hope all of you enjoyed! Hopefully, in two weeks, I’ll have the next installment in this segment for Into the Lion’s Maw. Thank all of you so much for your comments, artwork, support and patience! I keep thinking things are going to settle down and they might be soon!

***

Footnotes:

[1] Original draft, for those of you interested: “Everyone hold hands. I don’t want ANYONE going off on their own. Is that clear? I do not want anyone to listen to Mary here without first okaying it with me. Mary, you’re going to be integral in us getting out of here. Can you hold onto my hand.”

Axel offered her the severed bone hand.

She gleefully clenched it, immediately snapping a finger off.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #fanfiction #hoo #traitors of olympus #axel #writing #tales from mount othrys #tfmo #ethan nakamura #Dear gods I'm exhausted guys #BUT GSDI I WILL FINISH THIS FANFICTION FOR YOU #thank all of you for your patience <3

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burinazar · 8 months ago

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it appears the last time i wrote a significant chunk of fiction was the first half of may. as i was saying to people earlier what happens to me can't honestly be called writer's block because i don't think this is what most people mean by that? like i can feel what's happened is just falling out of a habit rather than some kind of impenetrable impasse or mental well running dry. i think i personally no more have Writer’s Block than someone who stopped jogging for a few weeks has Runner’s Block.

anyway it's really not good, because i'm happier when i'm writing regularly. same old mental bullshit of Not Doing A Thing I Actually Really Like Doing, For No Discernable Reason other than complete nonsense vagaries of executive function

i've started again now; let's keep it up. I wrote an eeny weeny amount yesterday and if I just do it again tonight before i sleep I'll be on the right track.

so what is this one about? well, one of my fandom idiots has impartial-but-correct-ish views of the future, right? which other people consider divine and godly, but he doesn't necessarily subscribe to this view. he has a lot of confidence in his own accuracy, though. (note for people who know Waz: it's Waz.) and another character has an outsize amount of faith in him and his visions. (note for people who know Belaf: it's Belaf.)

it's been my textually-appropriate-feeling headcanon for a while that the former character, because he has a feeling everything will be fine, can have a poor sense of self preservation regarding himself (what's the big deal if he knows he'll come out the other end alive and able to achieve your goals, right? isn't it easier to happily accept that whatever suffering and pain does occur was simply inevitable, and not fear it?*)

*note: very dire things start happening if you apply this to people other than yourself. more on him and that some other time.

so anyway in this one the first character gets really injured and the second character is trying to keep the faith that he will Be Fine but this is difficult when someone you care about is bleeding on you. the conflict of believing in someone’s goal while also caring about their personal well being in a way they themselves disregard as they pursue said goal...

(“you worry because you care” is the younger, less dire and tragic sibling of “love is the curse”, or perhaps one rung on the ladder that leads there) (note: be careful on ladders in the abyss)

mostly just taking my favorite muses and wringing them out like towels yknow. as one does.

previously only explored in one goofy drawing but i've had this idea for a while lol. i'll write out more of my fic (i really want to get Vooko in there and peer at the contrast in how both of them view him -- as you might be able to guess, Vue is better at dealing with this whole thing, not just because of her medical expertise but because of interpersonal factors....

more rambling about what i mean tomorrow maybe.

here is the silly drawing i just mentioned.

#ebil writes #orphan hole tag #wazukyan #belaf #vueko

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lavendermoonlitskies · 1 year ago

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Dream A Little Dream of Me fic series (Good Omens) part 3: “Could It Be Written In The Stars?”

Note: Rigil Kentaurus (Alpha Centauri A) and Toliman (Alpha Centauri B) are stars that, together, form the binary star system that is Alpha Centauri AB. To the naked eye, these two cosmic bodies appear to be a single star, and combined, they are the brightest in their entire constellation.

Alpha Centauri, before the beginning of time

Before light, there was nothing. Nothing other than God and her angels that would float about in her endless void awaiting instruction to begin the, for lack of a better term, beginning. The very start of time itself, and Crowley had been one of the many angels stationed at various spots across the entire universe, ready to breathe life into her vision.

With one simple phrase, an explosion of cosmic energy was in his presence, an endless collage of glistening stars in a diverse array of hues and brightnesses. One of which was his top priority for this corner of space, Toliman. Or, as it was known more commonly, Alpha Centauri. Though not as bright as the sun, the lone star radiated a beautiful orange glow. Dim in comparison to many of the other stars in the universe, though still breathtaking in its own way.

Regardless of its undeniable beauty, Crowley couldn’t help but question if something was missing.

“‘Bit dim, isn’t it?” He inquired as he noticed another angel take form in the space beside him.

“Excuse me?” The unidentified celestial being replied.

Its voice was unrecognizable, hardly resembling a human voice at all. They weren’t human, of course, but this multi-octave, deep yet ear-piercingly high tone was something that the humans could not handle. Thus, whenever Crowley had come across another angel on earth, they sounded just like every other human, and he had almost forgotten their somewhat frightening way of speaking until his mind brought him back to his time as an angel whenever he slept.

“Alpha Centauri, I mean, the description here makes it sound much more… I don’t know… glorious. ” Crowley said as he studied the godly scroll he had been gifted to help him bring the stars into existence.

The description had read:

Located 4.367 lightyears from where the earth shall be, Alpha Centauri will hold the brightest star of its constellation. Toliman shall shine brighter than any other star in its vicinity, and within the first 200 years of humanity and civilization, the humans shall use it to find the rest of the constellation it belongs to and name it “Centaurus.”

“Well, this is where you went wrong.” The angel stated flatly. As any angel would remind him, questioning the Almighty in any capacity was among the worst atrocities he could’ve committed in Heaven.

Crowley looked over, examining the creature beside him. It held no discernable features, wearing a white robe identical to all others at the time, and a colorless void where a face would be. The angel had no identifiable appearance, voice, or personality. Much like how he viewed the real angels up in Heaven in the present day, afraid of expressing any original thought whatsoever.

Because he’d had some amount of control over his dreams, Crowley would not allow his brain to imagine himself in the same dull, self-expressionless attire. His departure from Heaven may have been involuntary at the time, but knowing what he knew now, he would never dream of going back, even if he could. Crowley was different, and vowed never to let himself become brainwashed like the angels he once identified with. Whenever he’d come back to this place in his mind, he’d be wearing a robe of a solid black, the same as all other clothes he wore when he was awake. Clothes that he chose, and nobody could tell him not to wear.

“I know.” He muttered as he examined the differences between himself and Heaven’s view of a perfect angel: completely void of any individuality.

“But, I don’t regret it, y’know,” he continued, completely void himself, but only of any remorse regarding how he had questioned things all those years ago. “I mean, falling is the worst thing an angel could possibly go through, but, if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be… me.”

”Maybe that’s a good thing.” The empty void hissed, its threatening voice booming all around him. Crowley rolled his eyes, unphased.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I hate myself, I hate this cursed eternal existence, my life is filled with mistakes and inescapable dread, and blah blah blah…” he rattled off unseriously, “but I can’t help but wonder if it’s worse to live in complete ignorance of the pain and suffering that you help inflict onto undeserving human souls. At least as a demon, I’m aware of what I’m doing and can stop it every once in a while.”

The angel remained silent as Crowley trailed off, deep in thought about his role in human suffering and how he never wanted to be a part of it in the first place.

“You lot think that you’re so pure and good,” he sneered, “but the reality is that when you cause pain to someone trying so hard to live their life in your image, it hurts just as much as if a demon had done it.”

Unable to figure out why, he expected the angel to argue back. To challenge his way of thinking rather than doing what an angel would normally do whenever a demon questioned the will of God, smite him. Instead, the angel said nothing. The stars surrounding them began to flicker on and off like a lightswitch, and as Toliman’s orange hue began to fade into the deep and dark nothingness behind it, the angel faded as well. The deep rumbling of an ever-expanding outer space was replaced by the eerie silence of the real world at this hour. His room was almost as dark as space itself, his serpentine eyes only able to make out the faint outline of the minimal furniture surrounding him.

Read the rest here

#wip wednesday #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfic rec #alpha centauri #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3fic

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wolint · 1 year ago

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FRESH MANNA

A CERTAIN MAN

Acts 16:9 NASB

A certain man! The Bible is littered with a “certain” man but who is a certain man?

There is always a certain man that God divinely appoints, approves and assigns for a time and season in our lives.

The phrase “a certain man was used in the KJV translation 32 times, telling us that as powerful as God is, He will always use the help of certain people to accomplish His work on earth.

We don’t necessarily have to know or see the certain person that God may assign to assist us, it could be a woman or a child but what we need to grasp here is that there will always be a certain person for certain things.

All through the scriptures, we find a certain man stepping into our lives when needed directed by the hand of God, first in Genesis 37:15 with Joseph wandering around looking for his brothers who have moved farther north, but for a certain man, he neither know where to look and how far he would have gone. We may find a certain man appear in our lives, a situation and location for a timely purpose and season for a godly assignment.

A certain man may be a total stranger who just appears in the nick of time to aid us in whatever capacity we need at that time. This was the case of the certain man in Mark 15:21 who was forced to carry the cross of our saviour to give Jesus a bit of respite from the weight of the cross.

A certain man!

A certain man is a person who will step in when no one else will, the ability to step in having been granted by the Lord, not, particularly that the certain man can do so normally or personally.

A certain man is the one who, despite their circumstances, challenges and needs, is moved by God to go the extra mile for another who may sometimes even be in a much better state or position than they are but for a season or circumstantial need of God’s intervention, a certain man is needed to step in.

Could you be a certain man to others?

If the Lord moves you to be a certain man for someone, are you willing to obey and go?

Gamaliel, the most prominent rabbi of his day in Acts 5:33-35 willingly obeyed the leading of God as a certain man, publicly stood up in defence of the Apostles who surely could have been imprisoned or killed.

A certain man is the one whom the Lord instructs to care financially, materially, and physically for another irrespective of their situation, opinion and ideology, because ultimately whatever a certain man does is to glorify the Father. Ananias in Acts 9:10-15 will certainly testify that we wished someone else was the certain man sent to the newly converted Saul, but he obediently went as a certain man to help Paul regardless of his fear and opinion about Saul.

How would you treat those the Lord sent you to as their certain man? Compassionately, kindly or with resentment and disdain?

Cornelius was a certain man who needed another certain man-Peter in Acts 10:1-10 but Peter was disdainful that God had to use a vision to overcome his prejudice.

Don’t allow yourself to miss out on being a certain man to someone and don’t let your certain man pass you by, don’t miss your certain man.

PRAYER: Lord, help me to never miss the certain man you send me or me to but help me to always miss those who are not part of my story in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT. PRAYER MIN.

#spotify #devotional #christianpost #women's ministry #biblestudy #biblestudy christianpost women's ministry #biblestudy christianpost 'women's ministry #conference #family #prayer meeting

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mpxesther · 1 year ago

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The demigoddess looked up to the god once he spoke his name. She blinked a few times, but as her eyes refocused on the god, the confusion was apparent on her visage. She knew that name, heard many stories as she was raised. Was this a simple situation of someone with the god's name or was this truly the Yanluo? A bit of concern settled in her stomach. Her actions were already cruel against a mortal but a god.

As if to answer her questioning mind, the force of his energy consumed her body. Oppressive and thick, all she could do was press her fingers a bit deeper into her thigh. How could someone who had been so kind to her have such a heavy and dark energy? Even if it overwhelmed her, there was no look of fear on her features as she did not think he cared to hurt her, just the pain and weight of being consumed by his godly aura.

When it disappeared, she breathed freely, though she did find such a energy interesting. Esther did not quite know what to do next. Should she treat him as the god he was? Or, should she keep the personal, intimate nature of their current meeting? In her nature, she found a simple mixture. Both hands reached toward on his, gently cradling in her hers. The demigoddess tilted her head in a bow. "I feel guilty. To associate you with my ex-husband, it definitely feels like a crime now. Please accept my deepest apologies."

While there was stronger sense of formality on her end, Esther did not have to change much of her behavior to give the god the respect her deserved. Keeping his hands in hers as long as he would allow, she turned her gaze back to their hands, still partly to protect herself from getting emotional from the gloved touch. "Let me explain myself. From my birth, my parent's arranged my marriage to a family friend's child. I do not remember a lot of my youth as I have lost a lot of memories, but I do remember how much I loved him, everyday with all of my heart. I now wonder if it was only I that find our arrangement a blessing."

Pausing, the demigoddess tried to keep her head eye even though this was her weakest spot. So far, there were few that even knew the lengths of her cursed love story, and now, she only felt the need due to what hardships she had place on him. "I am sorry. I am not a good storyteller." She chuckled weakly before looking up at him. "One day, I saw a vision of him cheating on me, and to make it worst, it was on my wedding night. And, I had to live the next year knowing of his upcoming infidelity for to change it would mean losing my memories again."

Bitterness appeared momentarily over her features, but she sighed softly. "You look so much like him, but you are not him. I could not tell until you came to me at Noonas, but by then, it hurt too much." Though she had tried so hard not to cry, the tears by now had started to pool, waiting to spill. "Too many emotions. But out of all of them, I feel guilty to have put you in such an embarrassing situation, and I still am probably putting you in another uncomfortable situation."

Dipping her head, she took a deep breath. "Again, I am so so so sorry."

she was timid, yanluo noted. and only able to look at him for so long. her smile was weak, though pretty and it made the god feel relieved that she had the ability to smile in his presence. it probably took her a lot of effort, knowing how being in his presence pained her. though why, yanluo did not know but hopefully would come to understand once the demigoddess would explain herself to him. yanluo was used to mortals revering him, and some also dared not look at him but the feeling he got from his worshippers was different from the heartbreak he felt whenever she looked at him.

she sat beside him, and it appeared as if she was making herself small. hands neatly on her lap, head slightly bent and her voice soft; esther yu was the perfect image of one subjecting themselves to another. the god's gaze lingered on her figure as he mused. her name was lovely. esther, denoting a star. also often associated with venus and thus with love and beauty. the woman was a musician, and definitely easy on the eyes. her name was given well.

the god hummed and diverted his gaze out towards the field of flowers coloured rose, pink and purple. the field he'd traversed just minutes ago. in that moment, esther asked if he was willing to let her know his name. the god had a habit of reigning in his divine energies around demigods, having experienced that some were quite affected by his divine presence. it would not be strange for her not to realise exactly who he was, and yanluo was not offended.

"i'm wang yanluo." he responded in dulcet tones. and as he spoke his name, the god unleashed his divine essence, allowing it to blanket over the demigoddess for a brief moment. his divine energies were strong, oppressive even, and while yanluo had absolute confidence that a child of china knew exactly who he was, there was no mistaken it now. wang yanluo, the god of death and ruler of diyu, was one of the old gods still revered in modern day china. people whispered his name, begging for their loved one's safe passage, and erected altars for him in their homes where they prayed for the souls of the departed.

as quickly as he had unleashed his energies, yanluo reigned them back in. he didn't want to scare the demigoddess. he merely wanted to express who he was. though it wouldn't hurt to send the message that esther be careful with her words once her explanation rolled around. yanluo was a fair god, a just person. but it would not do well to anger him. there was a violence within these bones that always ached to be released. his worshippers knew this, kowtowing deeply as they made offerings to appease the god of death.

#mpyanluo #[a sad girl]

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darkacademicfrom2021 · 3 years ago

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"The party could be anywhere"

Tags: Smut :)

Prompts from @justforshitandcackles and @palettes-and-prompts

Pairing: Loki x AFAB!reader (gender not specified)

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: DNI IF YOU’RE A MINOR, 18+ only. Dom!Loki, choking kink, slight degradation kink, alcohol, consensual but insistent (don’t be like this in real life, if it’s not explicit consent then it’s a no), dirty talk, fingering, partially public sex, bruises, voice kink, teasing, control play, marking kink, daddy kink, slight pain kink.

A/N: If you know me, no you don’t. This my my first smut so beware the shitty writing :)

If Loki had not caught you staring so intensely, you would probably be still at the bar, leaning over the counter ever so slightly to reach for a drink from time to time, safe from risking everything you never thought you’d risk.

But he did see you. And he smirked. You tried to ignore him and went back to your conversation with Vision, actively fixing your eyes on him as he talked, avoiding to show just how hot you were feeling.

“And that is why I cannot actually get drunk”, he said, finishing his explanation. You hadn’t heard a word. Everything in your brain right now was Loki’s silhouette in those leather skin-tight trousers and a black shirt with the sleeves carefully rolled over the elbow. Him and his raven hair neatly collected in a messy low bun, that left his neck veins so exposed —agh.

You shook your head and faked a cough, trying to come back to reality.

“Right. Then I guess I’ll have to do it for the both of us”, you said, grabbing his glass and drinking it.

“I sense you are not being yourself today”, commented Vision, and you rolled your eyes.

“I’m fine. I just want to have fun”, you said, emptying the glass and asking for another one. But he was right —you weren’t yourself. Your limits were feeling a little bit blurrier than usual, and you knew you shouldn’t have gone to that party; not when Loki was there too —not when you had specific instructions to not get anywhere near involved with him unless necessary —this felt necessary, and that was what scared you the most. Vision gestured to the bartender to not give you a refill. “Hey! I’m not a kid”.

“If I’m correct in my speculations over what you want to do, I assure you, it is not a good idea”, he warned, eyeing a certain God you’ve been checking out all night. You didn’t think Loki was hearing the conversation, until a grin appeared across his lips. “I’ll get you a lemonade. Stay here”.

“Yeah. Great idea, leave me all alone, drunk and…”, you began saying, but the words fell off your mouth as you realized he wasn’t there anymore.

As soon as Vision left, you felt like an unsupervised chaotic child. Your eyes fixed back to Loki’s body, roaming around while he supposedly talked to Thor, and when they finally got to his face —lingering a little too long on his well defined arms— you realized his eyes were already on yours.

You tried to pretend like nothing happened, looking away and searching for Vision in the crowd. But you couldn’t escape the voice inside your head, low as a groan, seductive and mocking at the same time.

“Enjoying the view?”.

You choked on your drink, and looked at him perplexed.

“You can…?”, you thought, and he, pretending to listen to his brother, kept eyeing you with a smirk across his face. “Of course you can”.

“I can also see what you’re seeing in your head”, he pointed out. You were about to retort, saying that it was none of his business, but you soon recalled every single thought you’ve had since you’ve seen him in those godly pair of trousers, not leaving too much to the imagination. Maybe it was a little his business. “Ah, I love that shade of bright red”, he chuckled, and you felt your face get redder, if possible.

“Please, get off my head”.

“I seem to be very installed already”.

“Get off my… stop being here. I don't want to be working on my day off".

"Who said you'd be working? I just want to chat".

"Chatting with you means working".

"Well, then work".

You rolled your eyes and fidgeted with your watch. It was late, and you had to make presence in that stupid party that was mind-numbingly boring. You didn't want to work, but you wanted to talk to him. Lately, he seemed like the only one worth talking to in that compound. The only one who actually listened.

"It feels weird that you've hidden from me for so long you can talk telepathically".

“Would you like me to walk towards you and talk face to face, instead?”.

You thought about it. Yes, yes you did. Of course you wanted him to come near you and talk to you all night long, as much as you wanted him to do other things all night long. But Vision came shortly after, and you repressed every single action you could’ve done to walk towards Loki and flirt. You really, really shouldn’t flirt with him. It was for the best, you thought.

“Your lemonade”, said Vision, handing you a glass. “We were talking about the relationship between human reactions to…”, he started talking again, but you drifted off to Loki’s voice in your head.

"Your attires are overly flattering on that body of yours, tonight".

"Don't".

“Come on, stop pretending like you don’t want me to have you on all fours and…”.

“Don’t do this”, you warned, “don’t do this because I don’t want to be all bothered and flustered”.

"Ah, is that the reason? I thought you were just being professional. You know, if for one night you give up your control over me and let me be in charge…".

"Stop smooth talking, I don't… I don't want to be like this all night", you whined. You could already feel the heat between your legs, and pressed them to pretend you weren't getting hot by just his words.

“You wouldn’t be bothered if I actually did what I’m planning on doing”.

You could feel your brain burning at the implications of those words. Was Loki just mindlessly flirting? Was he doing this to annoy you or trick you in some way?

“Tell me”.

His wide grin made you shiver in anticipation. Oh, boy, was he a dark one.

“If it were up to me”, he said in an even lower tone of voice, “I’d eat every inch of you until you shiver and tremble and beg for dear mercy”.

Your heart skipped a beat, and your face flustered even hotter. The air around you thickening, dense as water, dense as blood. Vision didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening, too immersed in his own explanations. You swallowed and tried to compose your posture, ignoring Loki’s piercing gaze across the room.

“Loki, now you’re being inap…”, you began, but he interrupted you, knowing you were only trying to convince yourself. He could see every thought in that head of yours, he knew you didn’t mean it —he knew you were far from meaning it.

He also knew he meant every single one of his words.

“I’d pass my tongue through every little spot of yours, grabbing you tightly until you’d bruise so that you couldn’t squirm away from me. I’d lick you up and down, taking my time to make you see stars”.

You squirmed in your seat, trying to stay still. Your heart pounded so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You inhaled and exhaled deeply, and finally redirected your eyes back at him. He smirked again and kept talking.

"I'd penetrate you with my tongue until you begged for my cock. I’d make you come over and over, your grip pulling on my hair so tightly you’d think it'd rip my scalp off. I’d make you come until all things that could come out of that filthy mouth of yours were my name, and my name only”.

The heat in your face was now too evident to deny it. You knew Vision asked you something but your brain was almost numbed by his words. You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

“I’d bend you over in that counter, and I’d claim you as mine. I’d bury myself in you, filling you in and out, and in and out, and in and—”.

“Alright, stop it!”, you said out loud, and Vision frowned, stopping his words.

“What’s wrong?”.

“Sorry. No, not you. I’m… I’m sorry, I need to do something”, you stuttered as you could, leaving towards Loki.

“Me?”, chuckled Loki from his spot. You rolled your eyes and walked to him, asking Thor to leave you alone. Once you were finally free from others’ stares, you punched his shoulder.

“Stop doing that, you’ll be the death of me”.

“Well, I can stop teasing and start living up to my promises, love”, he whispered, looking you up and down.

You lowered your head, thinking about it. What would be the damage in fucking the God of Mischief that was under your supervision, in domiciliary arrest because he tried to take over the world? Surely nothing bad could happen. Except the possibility of getting fired, or tricked by him, or hurt.

“You’re not taking me to bed. Ever”.

“Who said it had to be in bed? I did say counter, did I not?”, he chuckled darkly, and you swallowed. He kept going. “It could be anywhere. On that pretty couch of Stark’s, too. I’m sure you’ve touched yourself thinking about it, don’t deny it”.

“Come on. What are you doing?”, you asked. You felt so stupid. He definitely was playing with you. He knew you had the hots for him and he was pushing his own limits to see just how much on the tip of his fingers he had you —maybe not enough—not in the way you wanted.

“Is it not obvious enough? Do you want a physical exemplification?”.

“I mean… why are you doing this?”.

He sighed and put a strand of your hair behind an ear, smiling. In the same deep velvety voice he’s been making you flustered with, he purred in your ear,

“I want you to be mine”.

You didn't suppress your shivers, and he chuckled darkly once again. Maybe he was being serious. Maybe you could bend your boundaries a little bit for him. You whispered on his ear, trying to not catch the attention of other people,

"We can't leave the party. We have to stay".

"Or… we could just go for a second. We don't even have to leave. Darling, we're here, but the party could be anywhere".

“If we get caught…”.

“We won’t. If you want to scream, I’ll gag you”, he teased.

It didn't take much more convincing. Soon, you were following his long steps down the hallways of the compound, not even leaving the floor. He suddenly grabbed you and pushed you with him into a small room, like a janitor closet. The place was so small, if you tried to stretch your hands to the wall, your elbows would be still bent.

Loki was right behind you, your back against his chest, and he began placing soft kisses on your skin. His hands moved to your hips and stomach, pressing you against him. Your breathing was unstable, too loud for it to not be heard. If anyone passed by the hallway, they’d hear you panting.

He got a hold on your neck, squeezing enough for you not to move, and slowly sliding his other hand down your abdomen, through your pelvis, until just beneath your underwear. His breathing grazed your ear, and he purred,

"May I?".

"Please", you breathed out, almost too quickly. He slid a hand further down, stopping before touching you, his digits lingering to be where you needed them to.

“I want to hear you say it”.

“Please, touch me”.

He moved his hand from your neck to your hair, pulling from it to expose your clavicles, and sank his teeth into you, finding all of the right spots for you to let out breathy moans. He groaned against your skin.

"I like those. I want to hear more", and bit you harder, making sure to leave a mark.

You began slightly rubbing your ass against his bulge, and he rocked his hips, showing you just how much you turned him on, too. His cold fingers traveled to your entrance, and your breath hitched at the feeling.

“Ah, Loki—”.

"Mmmh", he smirked. "You're so wet for nothing, darling", and then whispered harshly "let me give you a reason".

His fingers began to work on you, rubbing slow circles in your clit, making you grind against his hand, trying to speed up the infernally slow movements he was giving you. You tried to suppress your moans, but whatever he was doing with his mouth on your skin… he knew how to do it.

Soon, you were a hot and panting mess, grinding against him as much as you could, and he held your hip with his free hand, avoiding you from moving any further.

“Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic”.

"Then fuck me”.

“I’ll take my time”.

You didn’t want him to take his time. You wanted him to pull down his trousers and fuck you mercilessly against the wall, until all you could think of was him and him only. But he kept drawing slow circles on your clit, collecting your wetness to lubricate and increasing pressure ever so slightly.

His other hand was now resting on your neck, grabbing you softly yet dominantly enough for you to feel the heat on your abdomen, words of begging wanting to escape your lips —but you pushed them down. You could make him do it through other ways.

You slid your hand behind you, finding his erection. You grabbed him with strength and pressed it with your palm and he let out a low moan, his grip on your neck getting stronger. You undid his belt and sneaked your hand under his trousers, massaging his erection over the boxers. His hips buckled and his hand on your neck was gripping stronger.

"Stop provoking me or I’ll choke you a bit too tight”, he groaned in a raspy voice.

“What? Afraid of… ah, afraid of losing control?”, you tried to tease. He chuckled.

“Listen to you… you can’t even form a sentence without moaning”, he said, and without any further preparation, he slid a finger inside of you. You gasped sharply, and he kissed the heat in your face from behind, watching how sweaty and needy you were getting for him. “Shh, wouldn’t want your dear Avengers to know who’s helping you get off, would you?”, he said, fitting another finger and curling it in the right spot. This time, you couldn’t hold back your moans, throwing your head back, resting it on his collarbone. He had the perfect access to your chest, and he bent over to bite, leaving marks as his fingers began thrusting in and out of you, while still stimulating your clit with his thumb.

“I… I need you to… ah—”, you began saying, eyes shut tightly. As his thrusts sped up, his grip on your neck tightened and your face got even redder for the lack of air.

“What? Do you like it when I touch you like this?”, he said between his own gasps and groans, while you pressed yourself against his bulge, giving him friction and yet so close— “do you want me?”.

“I… I want you”, you managed to say, feeling the pressure building up in your lower abdomen, shivers from the hot and cold feeling that was his body against yours. “I want you”.

“Then say my name”.

“I… ah— I want you, Loki”, you couldn’t keep your voice down. Even though you were whispering, it was rough and loud, and it drove him even crazier, speeding up his thrusts and the circles on your clit getting sloppier.

“Say my name”, he repeated, speeding up the movement.

“Loki, Loki I want you, Loki—”.

“Say. My. Name”, he rasped.

“Lo… Loki”.

“No. Say my name”, he groaned in your ear and bit it harshly, and just by the way he said it, gripping you so hard you could feel the bruises about to paint your neck, marking you for everyone to see —just then, you understood what he wanted.

“I want you, daddy”.

He stopped the thrusts taking his fingers off you, and you whined. In a quick movement, he turned you around and slammed you against the wall, bringing one of your legs up and kissing you deeply, his tongue twirling with yours, his lips as hot and soft as you could ever fantasize they’d be.

You brought your hands up to his hair and pulled at it to expose those neck veins you’ve been meaning to mark for months, and as soon as you began working on them, he moaned loudly, rocking his hips against yours, holding your waist strongly.

You grinded against him, completely ruining his trousers and feeling his erection trying to break free, pulsating for your contact. He pulled his trousers slightly down and with a green light he had already a condom on.

“Well”, you said, panting, “that’s effecti…”, but you were cut on your words as he entered you in one quick motion, opening you up and stretching you more than you ever thought you could. You moaned loudly, and he groaned against your lips.

He began slowly, enough for your mind to go completely numb. You were saying things —his name, how much you liked it, but none of you were hearing it. All you could hear was your skin against his, slapping together faster and faster, his lips grazing over yours without kissing —moaning into the other’s mouths.

“I’m… ah, I’m so close—don’t stop”, you muttered, and he lowered one hand and began working on your clit again, the feeling becoming too much all of the sudden. You rocked your hips, matching his movements, and he grabbed you tighter against him with his whole arm. You scratched his back with your nails, and he thrusted deeper, knowing he ruined everyone else for you.

“N—Norns, you’re doing so good for me, agh”, he whispered in your ear. “You’re such a little whore—”.

He grabbed you by the hair and pulled your head back, making his movements sloppier and somehow even stronger —it hurted in the best way possible. You weren’t even trying to hide your moans, despite hearing footsteps right outside the closet.

“Come for me”, he commanded, and you, already over the edge, tried to hide your face on his shoulder. He grabbed you by the jaw strongly and made you look him in the eyes. “Look at me. I want to see you come all over me”.

As if he had just pressed a button, you came violently against him, calling his name in a way he was sure everyone in the compound heard. He came right after, and stayed inside of you until you could compose yourself.

Breathing hard, you laid your head on his chest and he pulled off you, surrounding you with his arms gently —as if he hadn’t fucked you to oblivion a minute ago. He kissed your temple and chuckled.

“I wanted to do this for ages”, he whispered, and you nodded, not actually capable of talking just yet.

Someone knocked at the door, and you got so startled you squealed. Loki hurried to cover your mouth, but it was too late.

“Who’s there?”, asked Thor. “Are you alright?”.

“Oh, it’s my brother”, said Loki, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Thor. Nothing to see here”.

“Oh. I see”, you could hear Thor blushing from behind the door. “Good, then. That… nobody’s hurt”.

“I never said nobody is hurt”.

“For the Norns, Loki, I don’t want to know!”, said Thor’s voice increasingly far from where you were, as if he was covering his ears. Loki chuckled darkly against your skin and kissed your shoulder softly.

“Are you alright?”.

“Better than before”.

“You know… I still haven't gotten a chance to taste you”, he said, sinking his nose on your hair. “I bet you taste divine”.

“Oh, we should continue the party, then”, you said. And he grabbed you in the air, carrying you to his room trying to avoid crossing with anyone in the way.

The party had just started, then.

Taglist: @lucywrites02 , @louieboo87 @the-departed-potato , @jesuswasnotawhiteman , @idontknow296 , @beksib , @spythoschei , @geekwritersworld , @whatafuckingdumbass , @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 , @joscelyn02 , @t00-pi , @selfship-mishaps , @sallymagnoliaposts , @deadgirl88 , @theonewiththenerds , @vicmc624 , @spiderlaufeyson @theaudacitytowrite @bi-andready-tocry @alorev @justasmisunderstoodasloki @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @theetoastyghosty @lokiprompts @sarahpaq08 @lostgreekgod

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tumbling-darkling · 4 years ago

Text

Miraculous Ghosts

Danny and friends visit Paris and come across trouble, as well as the cities local superheroes.

Lately, Hawkmoth has been recycling villains. There are only so many people in Paris and not everyone gets emotionally vulnerable strongly enough or long enough to be akumatized. Those that do, and commonly like Mr. Pidgeon, usually had a certain fixation that was easy to exploit. The thing was, both Marienette and Chat Noir already knew their weakness, the items that would most likely get akumatized, the whole schtick. So the battles were really fast and easy.

A new face always had to be met with caution, the lack of knowledge regarding the person was dangerous and if the pair wasn’t careful, they could end up losing the battle. And their Miraculous.

With the start of summer came tourist season, and tourists could be victims of akumatization. Which seemed to be the case within the first week. 3 villains, all new faces, but the pair had gotten lucky with the similar powers that the heroes had faced before and the three were all defeated in a timely manner.

There was a short week of nothing happening.

And then all hell broke loose.

—————————————————————

Marienette knew the start of the tourist season had begun just based on the filled streets of strange faces, sunglasses, cameras, and the use of foreign languages. This also was noticed based on how busy her parents' shop had become, and how rarely she was managing to escape outside to enjoy some of summer's freedom. The good thing was she was able to brush up on some of her English, since the tourists usually spoke the common American language and the experience was always welcome to help boost her grades in the upcoming year. Even if it was a few months away.

She’d figured out the best way to sneak off during any attacks was to ‘use the bathroom’ or ‘accidently’ make a mess and excuse herself to clean up. It had worked during the first week and she didn’t have to do anything the past week since Hawkmoth seemed to take a break. She finished serving a young pair of Americans, a tall girl with orange hair, and a lanky boy nearly the same height with raven black hair.

She had to admit, some Americans had a certain charm, but the bustle of the kitchen quickly caught her attention as she was back to serving the next person in line.

Just as Chloe waltzed in, basically knocking the american boy over as she strutted to the front of the line, causing people to cast glares in her direction. The boy hissed when he fell, the American girl offering to help him up in English as he shook his head and stood up, dusting himself off as Marienette went to deal with the walking form of pure rich privilege. “Urg, Dupain-Cheng’s dingy little cafe? Of course she works here, it just smells like burnt bread.” She huffed.

Marienette bristled, but put on her customer service smile, noticing the poor Americans victim to Chloe leaving the shop. She was hoping to offer them a replacement after dealing with Chloe but it was a little late now. “Ma’am, unless you are here to pick up an order, you will have to wait in line like everyone else.” She strained.

“Ma’am? I am Chloe Dubois! I don’t need to wait in line like some sort of peasant! Just give me whatever you didn’t make.”

Marienette had to swallow down any returning insults and put down one of their most expensive items, handing it over with a clearly strained smile, “have a nice day.”

Chloe huffed with her baked goods in hand but left as soon as she appeared, allowing Marienette some relief. Very little damage. A little annoyance but nothing worthy of an akuma-.

An explosion was heard from outside, and Marienette groaned internally.

She just had to jinx it.

—————————————————————

Ladybug dove off to the side as the villain shot out a ray of white, plasma-like energy. Adrien, fighting as Chat Noir, and his partner were having a hell of a time with this dude. He spotted the chaos on the news, the villain calling himself ‘Black Hole’ and giving his poor Lady a hard time. When he finally arrived on the scene, he wasn’t able to do much either.

The villain was basically a godly powerhouse, floating in the air, shooting burning rays of heated plasma, or even ice! Ice and plasma! Sometimes he MIXED the two beams to create an even WORSE beam! Whenever either of the heroes got close enough to land a hit, their punches and kicks would go right through him. Then he would DISAPPEAR. REAPPEARING AND LANDING ANOTHER HEAVY BLOW. He would fly around like gravity was non-existent, and these abilities didn’t stop there. Every so often, he would yank out this thermos looking thing and shoot out these wormholes. Or… possibly black holes. Calling them black holes felt wrong though… since they glowed green and swirled before disappearing after a few moments.

The villain's outfit was a change of pace too. It was impossible to figure out his age since he was completely covered in a thick fabric material that reminded him of space suits. Yet looked a lot less bulky than actual space suits, thin yet sturdy metal covered his forearms, and formed a backpack that was attached by a wide metal collar that spread to his collarbone and slightly covered his shoulders, as well as a metal strap that wrapped around right under his chest. A plated, metal belt circled his waist with a clip for the green black hole thermos, and thigh high boots with a similar fabric to his suit covered most of his legs, thick plastic looking platform soles attached at the feet. Black bands wrapped around the ankles of the boots. A helmet covered his entire face, a metal frame covering the bottom half like a muzzle while the top was a tinted glass dome following the shape of his head, the inside of it entirely black except for the eerie glow of a single, left eye. The helmet had a tube on the back of the helmet that connected to his backpack, but neither he or Ladybug could figure out if it was essential or for decoration. His entire colouring was monotone, much bleaker than their previous villains. His suit was black, the boots, forearm cuffs, belt, backpack and collar were all a middle shade of grey, the only flash of colour being the glow of the single toxic green eye amongst the darkness of the helmet.

The dude was disturbing. He didn’t make any sound, in fact he seemed to ABSORB the sound around him. Like they were in space.

Paris was getting destroyed more and more by the second and the two didn’t know what to do. The Lady’s lucky charm turned into a thermos, which she didn’t have a clue how to use in the situation in front of them. Maybe it was a hint? A clue about soup? Or getting the villains thermos?

The problem with the last idea was that neither he or Ladybug could TOUCH this villain. And each of them were getting worse and worse for wear by the second. He could tell Ladybug was getting ready to get some sort of help, but who could make something untouchable… touchable? Chat even tried to use cataclysm on the villain's thermos while Ladybug had distracted him, but he twisted at the last moments and grabbed Chat's hand, draining cataclysm before he tossed him aside like it was nothing.

Another blast of plasma sent the two tumbling away from each other, and then a blast of ice caught Chat off guard. Cold shot up his arm as his muscles convulsed, a scream caught in his throat as the ice trapped his arm in such a tight and sturdy prison. He twisted to try and use his free arm to claw the other out of the ice, a shadow in the corner of his vision causing him to twist and jolt in surprise as the villain stood right in front of him. The glowing green eye was cold as it bore into him, and the villain grew closer and closer, drifting off the ground and absorbing every noise around him, the air around them dropping to freezing temperatures. Chats breath formed in front of him as gasps, panic clear in the quick breaths, fear intensifying as the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat and blood roaring through his veins.

The villain's hand shot out and grabbed his free one- the one with his miraculous.

Chat heard Ladybug cry out as the villain gripped onto the ring, a quick glance showing she too was trapped.

That she was next.

Chat tried to keep his fingers curled, but he was battered and weak, and the villain hadn’t even broken a sweat during their fight. Prying open his fingers was easy, the ring vulnerable. This was it. He used cataclysm too soon and now he was powerless. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t save anyone. He was a failure. This was the end of Paris.

They lost.

—————————————————————

Fucking. Vlad.

This entire trip had Danny on edge and it was all because of Vlad.

At first, he thought maybe, for once, Vlad wasn’t being a piece of shit when offering the family a fully paid trip to France for two weeks. He was suspicious. He probably just wanted the family out of town to do some shady shit. But a two week trip to France wasn’t the WORST thing a man could do. Especially in comparison to kidnapping and cloning.

But then his parents got sick. A common flu. Right before the trip. And they wanted Jazz and him to experience Paris. Then Vlad offered to be a chaperone.

It was all a play to get Danny alone for two weeks and try and manipulate him.

He did manage to get Tucker and Sam to tag along, something about friends being his family and the two unused tickets his parents left behind. But Vlad knew how to separate the group. How to corner Danny at the worst moments and whisper annoying remarks in his ear as he tried to get away.

He survived a week. He only had one more week to go. Tucker and Sam were off checking out some places for lunch while Jazz and Danny went to pick up sweets for everyone to share after their meal.

Vlad was off doing who knew what so Danny had put him to the back of his mind.

The cafe they found was… well it smelled incredible. There were so many baked goods on display and the air was filled with the warm and sweet smell of the goodies. He let Jazz do most of the talking, she wanted to practice her French and Danny had recently discovered that being dubbed the ghost king meant that now he had a natural grasp on all verbal languages, including the dead ones. This meant his speech in French was almost flawless, and his understanding was like he was listening to someone speak English. He couldn’t read other languages though, just speak them. He was told though by a few locals he had an odd accent. It wasn’t an american one, just… odd.

So Jazz ordered the treats and the pair was headed out to meet Danny’s friends.

Then some blonde girl with way too much make-up basically knocked him to the ground, not even sending him a glance that indicated she knew what she did. It was annoying, but he dealt with bullies on a daily basis back at Amity Park. Well… used to. But he knew better than to waste any thought on some jerk like her. He sadly looked at the ruined cat paw shaped cookies, the icing ruined and the cookies crushed under his weight when he fell.

Standing up with the help of Jazz, they left the shop as Danny insisted on finding somewhere to wash off the icing stuck to his shirt. He liked this shirt too… he hoped it wouldn’t stain too badly. It was better than ectoplasm at least, that stuff needed to be burned out, there was no such thing as washing out ectoplasm.

Jazz asked to help, but Danny brushed her off, telling her he could easily clean himself off by himself.

And then Vlad chose that moment to corner him.

—————————————————————

“Hello Daniel.”

Danny splashed water wildly as he spun around to glare at the older Halfa, hissing out an ‘Ancients!’ in surprise. “What the hell, Vlad?” He spat, “sneaking up on a kid in the bathroom? I should just call the police and tell them about all that stalking you like to do.”

“Aren’t you tired of this childish game?” He hummed.

“Not really, seeing as I’m a child and I love games,” Danny sneered.

“I’m older, more experienced, and stronger. I am also patient, little badger. And it’s easy to wear you down. By the end of this trip, you are going to be begging to be my-.”

“Son? Pet? Little slave that does everything you ask? Sorry, Vladdy, but I ain’t the type to listen to crazy fruit loops. How about you go enjoy the company of your French rich friends like that Agreste dude instead of stalking me and trying to get with my mom and kill my dad. Might do you some good to make more friends than just your cat.”

“Oh Daniel, you throw your petty insults but I know ways to break you even further. You know, a lot of accidents happen in Paris. Terrible things.”

Danny felt his eyes flash as he spun on his heel, “listen to me, if you even consider-!”

“Not to mention your brand new ghostly responsibilities as… the ghost king? Imagine that. A child as the king. You don’t even know everything about ghosts.”

“Neither do you!” Danny spat.

“Oh but I know so much more. And I could easily teach you-.”

“Just shut up!”

“When you mess up, when the ghost zone begins to fall apart, you will wish you took my offer, but I may not be as forgiving when that happens.”

“I said shut up!”

“And we both know the moment the ghost zone falls apart, so will this world. All because a boy became king and didn’t take help he was so graciously offered.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP!”

Something inside him shifted, and Danny suddenly felt his mind cloud, a deep voice echoed his mind.

“A cruel man harassing a young teen that wants nothing to do with him. A shame when someone can’t take a hint.

Black Hole. I am Hawkmoth. I can give you the power to show this old man that he never should consider looking in your direction ever again.

All I ask is for Ladybug and Chat Noir’s miraculous. Do this for me, and Vlad Masters will never be an issue for you ever again.”

Danny’s clouded mind and building rage smirked at the offer, his voice echoing as he glanced up at Vlad who was giving him a confused look. “Yes, Hawkmoth.”

Darkness engulfed him and then his memory began to fail him.

—————————————————————

A boomerang slammed into Black Hole’s head, causing it to jerk to the side and a small crack formed on the glass that was hit. The metal boomerang dropped to the ground and Black Hole slowly looked down at it as a robotic voice cried out from it, “ghost detected!” And then a recorded voice spouted out, “take that, spook!”

Black Hole’s head slightly tilted at the noise it made, a hand subconsciously rubbing the crack it left behind. Then he twisted his gaze back to Chat Noir, going back to taking the hero’s miraculous.

Then a shout came from behind Black Hole and Chat caught the eyes of a teenage girl yelling and holding a bat over her head. Black Hole twisted, his body turning that transparent look whenever Chat or Ladybug had tried to hit him before, and Chat knew that it was useless. “No! Stop! Get out of here-!” He screamed at the citizen, but stopped when the bat connected with the villain's head and sent him flying into a wall.

Chat was at a loss for words for once in his life, watching the villain slowly pry himself from the wall from being hit by a baseball bat when he and Lady couldn’t land a single hit. He looked back at the citizen and shrieked as she raised the bat above her head and swung down at him, flinching and squeezing his eyes shut. She hit something, causing it to shatter and then- his hand was free!

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand in awe and then back at the girl, “who the heck are you?”

She huffed, dropping the bat casually on her shoulder, “Sam Manson. Friend of the idiot that didn’t do his research before taking a trip here. I’m surprised this didn’t happen earlier.”

Chat blinked, “you- you know that’s your friend? And knew this would happen?”

Sam shrugged, “the booo-merang is never wrong. And yeah, my friend there is not exactly the most emotionally stable person on the planet. Sorry it took us a while to get here. You guys really do move fast.”

Chat just opened and closed his mouth a few times, then yelled as she suddenly swung the bat again and smacked the villain in the gut as he got close during their exchange, knocking him sideways but not down like the first time. Black Hole turned again, making a snarling sound before he was blasted by some sort of green ray and sent flying sideways, rolling along the pavement before smashing into a car. Another teen jogged over with Ladybug behind him, dropping his hands to his knees as he wheezed, “I have ran… way too much for this to be considered a vacation.”

“M’Lady-, what is going on?” Chat asked.

“This is Tucker, and his friend Sam, and they know how to help,” Ladybug quickly explained, glancing back at Black Hole. “We need to draw his attention and get that thermos off of him, then Sam and Tucker can use this,” she held up the thermos from her lucky charm, “and we can get his akuma.”

“Akuma is in the thermos, knock it off,” Chat summarized. He heard his miraculous beeping, a sign he was close to his limit.

“Let’s end this fast.”

—————————————————————

Ladybug held the booo-merang in one hand as the two teens and Chat drew Black Hole’s attention, the teens equipped with weapons that seemed to get past some of Black Holes abilities.

She narrowed her gaze, waiting for the perfect moment, then threw the weapon, watching it arch in the air then knock the thermos off of the villain's waist. The thermos clattered to the ground and drew his attention, he quickly twisted and dove to try and retrieve it, which was when a bright beam erupted from the polka dot thermos Ladybug had given the teens. The beam caught the villain's legs and he was tugged back, his form pulling towards it like taffy as he twisted and a horrid scream of anger burst from him. He tried to escape it, flailing and reaching for anything to hang on to, but in a matter of seconds he was pulled into the canister and Sam slammed the lid shut. The screaming stopped and Ladybug made her way over to Black Hole’s thermos, stomping on it and crushing it, releasing the Akuma hidden inside. With a flick of her wrist her lucky charm turned back into its original form, dumping Black Hole onto the street, then the butterfly was caught and purified, and another click of her miraculous, she let the little bug flutter away harmlessly. With a shout, ‘Miraculous Ladybug!’, everything around them was engulfed in black and red as the damages were undone around them.

At last, the villain's form was released of Hawkmoth's influence and it left a lanky teen laying on the street. He slowly sat up with a groan and a hand to his head and she then realized it was the same teen as from the shop. So once again, this was Chloe’s fault. She turned her attention to the two teens that helped her, noticing Chat let out a hasty farewell and thanks and disappeared around a corner. “Thank you, both of you. Without your help… well, without your help we may have lost that battle. But how in the world did you do that?”

“What the fuck just happened?” The teen groaned, “I feel like the booo-merang smacked me in the head like… fifty times.”

“That’s because I may have smacked you a few times with the fenton creep stick,” Sam shrugged as she helped her friend up who gave her wide eyes in return.

“You fucking what?”

Tucker took a step forward to answer Ladybug’s question, “let's just say back in our town, we have very specific supervillains that have abilities that make it hard for regular attacks to land. So we have specialized gear. Sam and I did a bit of research before heading here and figured if any of us got Akumatized, we may reflect some of those traits.”

“I… see…” Ladybug hummed, “and where did you say you were all from?” The three cast a few glances between each other, but before any of them could answer, her miraculous beeped angrily as she quickly realized she was out of time. “Thank you again for your help, if we could meet again to exchange some of that tech to make sure this never happens again-,” she quickly tried to set up a meet up before Sam held up a hand.

“This won’t happen again. A lot of what happened here is very unique to Amity, so once we finish our vacation, you won’t see this kind of thing ever again.”

Ladybug only had more questions but the angry beeping only forced her to nod and bid a quick farewell before getting out of sight to let Tiki take a rest. Marienette held out a few macaroons for Tiki as her thoughts swirled in her head. The questions about the odd American trio and how they knew how to deal with a villain as unique as Black Hole.

She may be able to corner them later. They did say they had to ‘finish their vacation.’

And in the meantime, it was time to do some research on this place called ‘Amity’.

—————————————————————

Danny didn’t remember a lot of what happened while he was the villain, Black Hole. It was like a dream, he kinda remembered the feeling, vague details, but nothing specific.

What he wished he remembered was whatever he did to Vlad. He must have done something because his memories cut out right after Vlad harassed him in the bathroom and after the event, the froot loop avoided him during the entire trip. Even refused to make eye contact!

What he would give just for a few seconds of that memory! Or for someone to have recorded it!

For now though he got to reap the rewards, flashing his eyes green when Vlad would glance over and causing the man to flinch. Oh man, he was going to abuse this newfound intimidation ability till the bitter end.

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tears-of-amber · 1 year ago

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Hey there! Do you mind me asking how you interpret communications from deities and how to actively work with them? I genuinely have no idea how to start. I have called on a few to assist in some workings or intentions, and made offerings here and there out of distanced respect, though I wouldn’t say I really like… work with or follow them. But I would like to! I’ve felt very drawn to Brigid specifically, but I haven’t the slightest idea how to move forward with being a follower or having a relationship with her as a matron goddess. It seems so daunting sometimes? I’m not sure how to reach out and how to know I’m being responded to, or how to work with a deity or spirit in general. What if she doesn’t want me reaching out to her? I’ve always been a secular witch and more in tune with the moon and earthly energies, but I’ve been more and more drawn to the deities lately. idk I’m rambling lol. Any advice or tips or anything would be so appreciated ❤️

Happy Barley moon! Ok this answer is going to be a bit long, so be patient lol. The best thing you can do is reach out to her. No god or goddess is gonna get pissed cause you reached out and want to work with them (unless they’re from a practice closed and not for you). They might turn you down. But they’ll never get weird about you asking. It’s pretty harmless just stating your intentions, like “I’m really wanting to work with you Brigid.” Write it in a letter or pray it to her. She’ll know your heart is reaching out. Then the worst that can happen is she says “no” or “not right now, I have nothing to teach you at this stage in your life.” How will she answer you? Here’s the thing. Gods and goddesses all have their preferences with how they communicate back to you after you ask a question. The surest way to go about receiving their answer is to be open to it coming from a place you don’t expect to work. Tarot is usually how I get answers. I call upon the god or goddess I wish to communicate with, after making an offering, I ask my question and pull the card or cards for an answer. But what surprised me about Freya (the goddess I’m devoted to) is that she answered through MULTIPLE ways. Pendulum. Tarot. And Falcon appearances. I’ve never had a deity confirm in so many ways. But the quickest answer you can get is probably a form of divination that you’re comfortable with. Other signs you receive will reinforce that answer.

A lot of people talk about “hearing” and “this god said this to me.” That has never been how it works for me, and I truly believe that’s ok. I don’t hear shit from deities. I hear the occasional sound of a violin playing when no violin is there, but that’s it. I also don’t see deities in hallucinations or visions in the waking world. Only VERY rarely in dreams do I see them. And that’s usually when they really REALLY need to convey something.

So me talking every day to Freyja is always with my tarot deck. Or I just fill her in on the tea, if you know what I’m saying. I let her know when I’m reminded of her. I say “thank you Freyja” when I notice a particular sign or blessing from her. And I feel connected and confident this way.

It’s really not some huge intimidating thing reaching out. Witchtok will make it sound like a fantasy book. “Yeah, I saw Loki in my kitchen and he told me a prophecy and I knew it was him because I am the chosen one who will lead an army at ragnarok”. Like bitch maybe some of that’s true but I HIGHLY doubt Loki just showed up in godly form in your kitchen to tell you how the world is gonna end and that you are chosen to lead an army and other frilly witchtok shit. Yeah. You get my point. Anyyyway. Hit me up or send another ask if I missed anything.

In short: just reach out. It’s easy. Pray. Write a letter: etc. and if they turn you down it’s usually nothing to do with you being “unworthy”. It might just be they think someone else has more to teach you.

#asks #pagan #witch #witchy #paganism

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mygodyouredivine · 3 years ago

Text

The Hell In Your Eyes - 3

Summary: Loki doesn't meet her until two weeks after his initial imprisonment, but he knows he hates her. He has to hate her. Because the way she talks to him and helps him and saves him meals can't mean anything. She is too soft to deal with Loki, who is hardened with pain, pain, and more pain. And Loki hates soft things.

Have you ever seen the hell in someone’s eyes and loved it anyway?

Characters: Loki Laufeyson/(f)Reader

Warnings: brief mentions of violence

Word Count: 4836

Previous Chapter

Loki is annoyed.

Loki has sat through thousands of years of political dinners, exchanging thinly veiled insults under a layer of diplomacy, all while smiling through his teeth. Loki has spewed sensical nonsense, charming naive, innocent maids and sweeping young stable boys off their feet. Loki has endured Odin’s wrath — in all its horrible glory — countless times, and never once had he shed a tear, nor had a single cry escaped his lips.

The whole of Asgard had coined him the Dark Prince — and who was Loki to disappoint?

He had long since learned people saw what they expected to see.

And so as the entire realm rejoiced in his demise, as Laufey left him to die, as Odin condemned him for eternity, as Thor abandoned him, as Frigga had sided with her husband again and again and again, Loki maintained his carefully constructed front.

Yet one encounter with a mortal, and he had unraveled at her feet.

If physically kneeling before the wretched creature wasn’t enough, he knew she had seen past his mask. By the time he had regained his composure, he was sure she had seen him.

It won’t happen again.

Loki is a god, and gods do not crack. Gods maintain their image, regardless of circumstance. Gods do not show weakness, do not show vulnerability.

This is a lesson Loki knows well, a lesson etched into his skin countless times by Odin’s hand.

And yet for each time Odin reinforced this lesson, the very same lesson was burned away by Thanos a thousand more.

Loki tried, he truly did. Loki maintained his godly facade for an impressive amount of time, resisting as his body was taken apart over and over and over again. Perhaps it wasn’t as long as he thought. Loki feels as if his entire life was spent doused in agony, spent with his flesh melting off and his bones withering away.

Ultimately, a god is no match for a Titan.

But a mortal is no match for a god.

And yet, Loki has found himself at her feet — at her mercy — twice.

Even after, Loki couldn’t bring himself to summon his cruel exterior. Perhaps it had to do with the way she had waltzed into his space, all soft and defenseless, carrying that deplorable drink as if it was the elixir of eternal life (unfortunately, it tasted just as divine). Perhaps it was his body, still sated and full for the first time in months, reminding him of the food — the debt — he owes. Perhaps it was the way she held out her arm towards him, even though he could see it shaking.

Whether it was any of these things or none at all, Loki’s cool mask of indifference was rendered utterly useless at her delicate, mortal hands.

Loki hates her.

His hatred fills every fiber of his being. It’s a scalding, fiery hatred, much unlike the frozen excuse of Loki’s heart. His frost giant heritage seems to reject her very being.

Loki hates her voice, hates her hands, hates her. He hates how she makes him falter when there is no place for mistakes.

Loki’s thoughts are interrupted by Thor, who enters Loki’s quarters without an ounce of hesitation — ever the righteous, confident, arrogant bastard.

Ah, but Loki almost forgot. Thor is not the bastard — Loki is. How despicable; for really, Loki can not even call himself a bastard. Yet, ‘the Bastard Son of Odin’ has a certain charm to it. Perhaps another false title for his collection.

“Loki!” Thor booms, “Here are your clothes that Lady Angel washed. You should be grateful brother, for she offered of her own volition — ”

Is it so surprising someone would offer to help Loki without external influence?

“ — to see and visit you! You are doing well. I am happy to see you are finally making an effort to get to know all of our friends — ”

Thor is happy? For Loki, or for himself? Why must Loki, even now, strive to prove himself to Thor? Why is Loki’s worth solely dependent on Thor’s judgement?

“ — and Lady Angel is absolutely wonderful. I am delighted to see you two getting along so well! I can’t believe you finally made a friend— ”

At this, Loki’s composure cracks for the second time that day.

“What am I? A pathetic child wandering aimlessly through a school corridor? A helpless hatchling at the mercy of others — groveling for the bare minimum? Who are you to congratulate me for ‘making a friend?’ She is not a friend ,” Loki spits out. He can feel his teeth grinding against each other, his fingernails once again digging into his palms. “She is nothing more than another worthless mortal, unworthy of even breathing the same air as I, and yet you suggest I be grateful?”

Thor advances on Loki, his eyes hardening. The atmosphere is tense; unlike the typical bickering between the brothers, Loki identifies something distinctly different in the way the air vibrates. The space between the two gods crackles. “Watch yourself brother —”

Brother. The word grates upon Loki’s nerves. How can Thor so carelessly throw the word around, even knowing of its false implications — implications and lies Loki foolishly believed.

Sometimes Loki wonders if Thor does it on purpose.

“Do you hear yourself Thor? Bending yourself over backwards to defend this wasted excuse of consciousness — you are the King of Asgard. What is she? She is nothing.”

And now Loki is no longer staring at his brother, but the ceiling of his prison. His back is slammed against Stark’s hardwood floors and there is sharp ringing in his ears, likely the result of the crack in the floor right behind where his head is currently embedded.

Loki almost laughs.

Truly, it is comical — comical that even now, Thor’s first instinct is to physically threaten Loki. As if Loki doesn’t almost enjoy it.

But Loki’s laugh catches in his throat, prevented from escaping by the large hand tightening around his airway.

Thor’s hand is around Loki’s neck — a mirror of His.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor. A thousand years of childish brawls, foolhardy battles, pointless arguments. How many times has Loki betrayed Thor? Thor betrayed Loki? And yet, Loki believed he knew his brother’s character.

A thousand years Loki has known Thor, but never once has he thought Thor to be cruel.

Oh how wrong he is.

Thor’s hands are gripping Loki’s neck and for the life of him Loki can’t breathe. He tries to draw air into his lungs — lungs that are screaming with a familiar ache — and fails. Phantom pains flicker across his entire body and somehow, in the second before his vision goes black, Loki manages to croak out a strangled wheeze of a laugh.

Loki is once again strapped upon a bed of coals, once again stabbed with blades of flame, once again torched with fire so hot he freezes. Loki remembers the only other time he begged — begged and pleaded for the sweet mercy of death, all while knowing death was a pleasure he was never to be granted.

Loki is once again kneeling — boneless — at the feet of a Titan, looking up into a face promising endless pain, a face painted with the patience of a thousand moons and splattered with the ruined blood of a Frost Giant.

Loki did not know that a Frost Giant’s blood could boil.

Ah, but the Mad Titan knew, and he ensured Loki would never forget.

Loki recalls the moment he let go — an eerie echo of his fall from grace, his fall from the Bifrost. And he remembers the horribly invasive power of the scepter, along with the blessed relief and utter disregard for self preservation that followed.

And it is this — the relief — that plagues Loki. He does not fool himself; Loki may be the God of Lies, but he has no reason to lie to himself . It is not the destruction of New York nor the deaths at his hand that weigh upon his shattered mind. No, it is the fact that Loki found solace in his actions.

Make no mistake — Loki does not rejoice in his crime, but nor could he say he regrets it.

For if Loki were given the choice, he could not — would not — choose to spare Midgard at the cost of his own sanity.

(But Loki was never given a choice.)

Alas, Loki is already insane.

The Mad Titan has taken so much from Loki.

Physically, Loki has long since disregarded his own body. He remembers the beginning of his torture, when he still held the title of 'Prince of Asgard,' when he spoke with arrogance and oozed of indignantion. Oh how naive he had been. When the first whips had landed across his skin, Loki's thoughts could never have anticipated what the coming months would entail. Loki did not once stop to consider how he would escape the clutches of his captor — oh the confidence he held! — but instead lamented the scars he would surely have to bear. Dimly, Loki recalls worrying over his marred skin, irritated at the blemishes he would surely have to cover when taking future lovers.

Loki scoffs.

Loki does not recognize the man who spent time thinking of lovers. Or of his physical appearance. Or of his interests. Or of any other insignificant pleasure that ultimately contributes to the annihilation of a soul.

(Even now, Loki carries with him an irrational fear of physical touch — a seed planted by the Mad Titan that Loki cannot gouge out, not even if he tore open his very being.)

In fact, Loki wondered if his corporeal form had even existed anymore. But most of all, more than the ruination of his physical form, Loki mourns the damnation of his mind.

Ultimately, the Mad Titan did triumph over Loki. For no matter how many times Loki escapes, fakes his death, runs away, he can never evade the visions that haunt his mind, the voices that infect his thoughts, the termites eating away at what remains of Loki’s sanity.

(If Loki were given a choice, he would have chosen death again and again and again.)

Alas, Loki was not — is not — given a choice, for suddenly he is not lying on a bed of coals, but on his apartment floor again. Thor has since removed his hand from Loki’s neck and Loki half wishes Thor just kept it there. Just kept on squeezing and squeezing and squeezing until Loki died on that bed of coals.

Loki wonders, if he were to die at Thor’s hand, would his brother feel remorse? Or perhaps, more realistically, relief?

Unfortunately, Loki is not dead, and Thor is gazing at him, concern evident in his gaze. As if Thor wasn’t the one who put Loki in this condition — wasn’t the one who greedily snatched all of Odin’s affection, wasn’t the one who pushed Loki out of favor, wasn’t the one who led his brainless minions in a brash suicide mission, as if Thor wasn’t the one who stared Loki in the eye as Loki let go into the abyss.

As if Thor wasn’t the first domino in a long ripple effect that eventually drowned Loki in his sins.

Thor was the smooth pebble that young children skipped over lakes, just barely skimming the surface of a tempting downfall — nevertheless gracefully leaping unscathed across the reflective waters. Yet Loki was the jagged, unskippable rock, destined to fall through the air and fall through the water with no hesitation. Loki has long since come to terms with this simple fact.

No longer does Loki resent his brother, for he understands: light can only shine in the presence of darkness. And if Loki is condemned to darkness — so be it.

Loki does not resent his brother, but oftentimes Loki despises his lightness . What some might say is endearing — the inability for Thor to give up — is just a burden. Even now, Thor still thinks he can change Loki, can fix him. Thor still thinks that by vouching for Loki and providing Loki a place to live and surrounding Loki with Thor’s friends that he can mend Loki’s broken soul and bring back the brother he once had. Thor is still in denial — he refuses to grasp the very simple concept that Thor’s brother — the Second Prince of Asgard, God of Lighthearted Mischief — is long dead. And so Thor continues to try. But light yelling into the darkness does not change it.

And even now, with Thor looming above Loki, Loki does not resent his brother.

But Loki resents Thor’s very being — the core of who Thor is. Thor is a duality; one of naivety and compassion, yet tainted — or perhaps embellished — with a smidge of cruelty and arrogance.

And as Thor is speaking to Loki, mouth forming words Loki is too tired to hear, Loki simply lies on the floor, limbs relaxed around him, throat sore, and does the only thing he can do when feeling so utterly empty.

Loki laughs.

______________________________

Midgard is rather charming in some regards.

Loki will eventually have to investigate the laundry process, for he has just now made the curious discovery that freshly dried clothes are warm . He suspects they were warmer right after they were dried, but he can still feel the presence of the heat, lingering within the very fabric of his garments. He wonders just how much they were heated up to — would it have burnt his frozen hands at the peak of its fiery glory?

No, Loki’s hands are too well accustomed to fire now.

But he doubts that her hands are. He envisions Angel pulling his clothes out of the dryer, her hands touching the same clothes that he has worn, that he will wear, that he is currently touching.

Yet is it entirely possible Loki is standing around, imagining a scene that never played out, for it was not Angel who brought Loki’s laundry back to him, but his dearest brother. Looking at his pile of clothes again, Loki takes in the telltale signs of Thor. The messily folded shirts stare back at Loki, mocking him.

He wonders if she ever even did any part of his laundry. Perhaps she only offered it as a way to ease the uncomfortable tension that had arisen earlier. Or rather, (and his stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought) she lugged his laundry basket downstairs and dumped it straight into Thor’s arms.

Why else would she refuse his help to accompany her?

A twinge of something rises up within Loki as he realizes she accepted Thor’s offer to bring his clothes back. Or, much more likely, she had pushed the task onto Thor in a desperate attempt to avoid encountering him again.

Not that Loki could blame her.

And yet the uncomfortable sensation within Loki only grows, and he realizes that he feels something akin to disappointment. Loki cannot allow himself to feel disappointment. He had long since learned not to expect anything from anyone — or perhaps, much more cynically, to only depend on — to trust — himself.

Trust, Loki knows, is a fickle concept the naive embrace. Trust itself is ill fated, the certainty of an inevitable betrayal the same as the certainty that one day everyone living on this cursed realm will perish.

Loki hates Angel. He hates how she pretends to care for him, hates how she imitates Thor, hates how she always finds a way to break him, and Loki hates how Angel makes him feel.

Loki's silent anger boils inside of him — like the steady countdown of a ticking bomb — manifesting itself out of him as the laundry basket is violently launched across the room.

He hates how he feels absolutely no satisfaction at the way the freshly clean clothes scatter across the floor, hates how he lost control, and hates how the damned mortal forces him to feel emotions he does not want to feel .

Sometimes all Loki can do is hate.

______________________________

The heat from the clothes have long since seeped into the floor.

The sun is just now setting, dousing Loki’s room in a fiery glow. Warm light spills across Loki’s bookshelves, his impeccably made bed, the clothes strewn around his floor. Loki sits on the ground, bare of his illusions, allowing himself to just be .

Staring across the room, he notices tendrils of light carefully curling around the air, miniscule particles of dust dancing in the golden glow. This is a gold Loki enjoys. Unlike the brash, loud character of Thor’s gold — of Asgard’s gold, this is a much softer, gentle color. The comforting hue reminds Loki of his mother, and against his will, he feels a wall of despair beginning to build within his chest.

For a second, Loki loses himself as the wall crashes over him. He drops his head, allowing his hair to dangle in front of his face, obscuring his view of the floating particles. He feels like a child — wants nothing more in this moment than to run to Frigga, for her floral scent to fill his senses as she envelopes him in her arms. What Loki wouldn’t give to have Frigga’s delicate fingers comb through his hair just once more, for her soft lips against his forehead, murmuring words of comfort.

But he can’t have that. Instead, here he is, sitting on the floor of a glorified prison in the midst of a community of people who hate him, with nothing but Thor to act as his buffer.

Looking up, Loki gazes at the honeyed light as it glides over a particular heap of clothing. He watches, mesmerized, as the light gently moves, unhurriedly bathing each corner of the fabric in its rich glow.

If he were still on Asgard, Loki would most likely have been reading, thoroughly immersed in some story or another. The sun would have showered his pages in its quiet glow, lighting the words aflame. He would have taken a stroll in his mother’s gardens, breathing in the sweet scent of her flowers as he sat in his favorite hidden alcove. He would have taken out his book and continued to read, read until the golden hue of the sun was replaced by the tender shine of the moon. Only then would Loki return, serenely walking back to his chambers, stopping only to retrieve a cup of tea, and resume his reading on his balcony.

Loki wants that.

Loki wants an afternoon to himself, with no worries plaguing his mind.

Loki wants to be able to read, and to do so in an environment which permits him to let his guard down.

Loki wants to sit outside, surrounded by flowers, and watch as the sun transitions into the moon.

Loki wants to indulge in a hot cup of tea as he watches the moonlight spills across the pages of his book.

Loki wants so many things — and he can’t have any of them.

Standing up, Loki decides he has spent enough time reminiscing over what he cannot have today. He feels sticky and hot and cold and hungry and all he wants right now , is a long shower.

And so Loki walks over to the same pile of clothes, now dull and abandoned by the sun, gazing disapprovingly downwards. Thor is truly an imbecile, for he has not even managed to separate their clothes correctly. Loki is currently staring at a dark green sweatshirt, one he knows for a fact he has never seen before. Tiredly, he tosses it upon his bed and scoops up a clean change of clothes, then turns around and trodds slowly into the bathroom.

______________________________

Water droplets rain all around Loki, swiftly sliding down his body.

He doesn’t particularly enjoy showering — it reminds him too much of another substance: denser, stickier, and much more red, trickling down his skin. Loki much prefers baths. Baths, however, render their subject very much vulnerable, and Loki does not fancy risking any more vulnerability than strictly necessary.

So Loki is standing in the shower, unabashedly soaking up the shallow warmth the water provides. Surely if Thor could see him, his brother would lecture Loki on wasting Midgard’s precious resources. But, Loki reasons, if Stark truly possesses the excess of wealth he boasts of, Loki’s water usage will not be of much concern to the man. And so this is a luxury Loki will grant himself.

The shower is one place where Loki feels the safest, where he allows his thoughts to wander and drift into otherwise forbidden territories. Today especially has been challenging, and even his muscles seem to ache, the fibers pulling away from each other, trying to rip Loki apart from the inside out. His mind is exhausted, filled with swirling thoughts of Frigga and Angel and Thor, with the occasional Odin and Titan intruding whenever a particular body part cries out.

And as Loki gazes down at his body, the disfigured canvas of scars stare back at him and he attempts to soothe away the countless aches. No matter how much time has passed and how much magic Loki pours into himself, the pains never seem to retreat. Rationally, Loki knows it doesn’t make sense. He knows his magic is fully capable of healing himself, knows that by all accounts he is healed.

But Loki also knows he does not imagine the sharp pains coursing through his veins.

He is fighting himself — the part of himself that does not want the pain to stop. Because all Loki knows is pain, and he fears the absence of pain almost as much as he dreads its glorious presence.

Loki raises his head, allowing for the stream of water to bruise his face. And if Loki’s closed eyes leak the occasional tear, no one would know.

______________________________

Loki’s self destructive spiraling is abruptly cut short by three succinct knocks from his bedroom door. Still soaking in the shower, Loki debates whether or not to answer; after all, he truly has no desire to see his brother again today. Or preferably, ever again. Unfortunately, Loki is all too aware that if he does not answer the door to let Thor in, Thor will simply let himself in. And if there’s anything worse than seeing Thor, it will be seeing a displeased Thor while Loki stands nude and wet.

Reluctantly, Loki turns off his shower, changes into his freshly washed ‘sweatpants’, and leisurely walks towards the door. He is honestly surprised Thor hasn’t invited himself in yet. He is more surprised when he finally opens the door and is promptly met with — not Thor’s brutish face, but the goddamned mortal.

She stands there, in front of his door, barely out of arm's reach. Loki can’t help but drink her in. He notices her hair, laying loosely around her face, framing her profile. She’s sporting a sweater, much too warm for the present weather. Its collar is stretched out over years of use, teasing his eyes with a fraction of her collarbones peaking through. Her legs are barely covered by absurdly short shorts, and Loki feels the back of his ears heating up. Hurriedly, he averts his eyes, falling down to her feet, once again hugged by soft looking socks — mismatched.

His scrutinization is interrupted by her voice; so soft.

“Hey! Sorry if I interrupted you. I heard you were in the shower but I was going around taking everyone’s dinner orders. We’re getting Chinese.” She tilts her head to the side, lifting her chin ever-so-slightly, distractedly exposing the tantalizing skin of her neck. She swallows, and Loki’s eyes discreetly follow the bob of her throat. “I was just wondering if you wanted anything?”

It takes a moment for Loki to register her question and another for him to process it. She is going to order dinner? For him? And she is asking him for his preference? Loki has not had the privilege of preferring anything in a long, long time. Damn this mortal.

“I am not familiar with this particular cuisine, nor Midgard’s in particular.”

She meets his eyes then, and only after does it occur to him that her eyes had been previously glued to his abdomen. His abdomen, he realizes which has been bare this entire interaction. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

He forces himself to roll his eyes, running a hand through his still dripping hair to hide the scarlet his ears have surely become. “I am saying that I do not have a preference, woman.”

She lifts her shoulders briefly in a gesture Loki has come to associate with Midgard’s daftness and promptly moves closer to him. Instinctively, Loki takes a step back, then curses himself for doing so. He truly must be losing it, backing away from a defenseless mortal. But she doesn’t push further, instead tilting her head at that angle again, asking him another question.

“Can I come in?”

Loki hesitates. He doesn’t understand her motives, doesn’t know if this is a trick the Avengers have set up or perhaps a test designed by his brother. All he knows is that Angel is staring at him with her eyes wide and innocent and completely devoid of deceit.

Angel must carry magic or Loki must be possessed by the Mind Stone again, for against his will, Loki steps to the side, allowing her to brush past him. The sleeve of her sweater comes into contact with Loki’s stomach, and he jerks away.

Awkwardly, Loki closes his door and turns to face the mortal, noting how hilariously out of place she looks, standing in the midst of Loki’s domain. With a wave of his hand, the previously scattered articles of clothing fly onto his bed, meticulously folding themselves. Angel’s surprised, quiet gasp does not escape his notice. She walks towards his bed, small hand landing on Thor’s sweatshirt.

“Take that when you leave.” Loki internally bristles at his own tone, noticing how Angel’s shoulders locked up when he spoke and did not relax when he stopped. “Please,” he adds.

To his surprise (again), Angel approaches him, sweater in hand. “Why?”

At this, Loki is caught off guard. Without warning, he is overwhelmed by distaste. His patience has been tested over and over again, and he does not have even a drop more to deal with this mortal’s incompetence. His hatred for her rushes back, multiplied a thousandfold. Who does she think she is and why will she not leave Loki alone? Why must she cut short his relaxation, intrude upon his personal space, inquire after him when he knows — he knows — she does so unwillingly? Why is she holding up Thor’s goddamned sweater, pretending not to know why Loki hates it so? As if she doesn’t know it belongs to Thor.

In fact, Loki is positive she is intimately aware of whom it belongs to, undoubtedly so. He hates Angel, hates her for reluctantly offering her help, hates her for her smoothies, hates her for asking him about his preferences. Briefly, he envisions snapping her neck. Effortlessly. But the image makes him recoil, bringing about not satisfaction, but horror.

His fists clench, his broken fingernails once again digging into bruised skin. It costs Loki an immeasurable amount of self control not to simply throw her out, hurl her from his quarters. Instead, he snaps at her.

“Girl, do not test my patience. I am warning you, it has been a very long day and if you do not exit extremely promptly, it will not end well for one of us.”

Loki hates the way her shoulders tense up again, hates the way she physically flinches away at his dismissal.

Loki hates how though he can sense her increasing heartbeat, her nervousness, Angel still looks him in the eye and informs him, in a terrified voice coated with forced calm, “I’m sorry to hear that Loki. I added this sweater into your laundry after it was done, but I should have known it would not have been welcome.”

Loki hates how she then drops her eyes, staring intently at her mismatched socks.

“I’ll just leave your dinner outside.”

Loki hates how she leaves, her hands gripping Thor’s — his — sweatshirt tightly, footsteps moving at a much brisker pace.

Loki hates how Angel closed off, how he closed her off.

Loki hates how Angel clearly did do his laundry.

Loki hates how Angel thought of him, giving him an extra sweatshirt, offering him a choice for dinner.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates Thor, more than he hates Odin.

Loki hates Angel more than he hates the Mad Titan.

The only person Loki hates more than Angel is himself.

Fuck.

______________________________

We don't even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.

- Charles Bukowski

______________________________

Previous Chapter

Taglist: @spacedaddydinn @doct0rstrange

#Loki Laufeyson #loki x reader #Loki Laufeyson x Reader #the hell in your eyes #thiye #loki x you #friends to enemies to lovers #reader insert #loki fic #jouce writes

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itshalza · 4 years ago

Text

At My Side

Eternalduo (Eret and Foolish) origin story fanfic? Yes please!

- They/Them pronouns for Eret

- Loosely based on "Peace and Love on the Planet Earth" from Steven Universe

!! Content Warning: Nothing.

Summary: Foolish wakes up in the mortal realm, completely unaware of how it works. When he stumbles into Eret's kingdom, friendship ensues.

Foolish woke up under a canopy of trees. Dim beams of sunlight shone through the leaves of the tall oak trees. Birds chirped lightly in the trees. He blinked slightly, eyes adjusting to the lack of light. Then a figure covered his vision.

The totem shouted, scurrying backward until his back hit the trunk of a tree. Birds squeaked and flew from the tree. Foolish began speaking quickly. “Get away from me. Don’t come any closer. What the-”

He was cut off by a long:

Baaaaa

Foolish stopped speaking, the fear slowly leaving his eyes. “What are you?” He asked.

The creature let out another noise before beginning to munch on the grass.

“Can you at least tell me where I am?”

Baaaaa

“How did I get here? Why aren’t you saying anything?”

It looked up at him, not a thought behind its eyes.

Foolish raised an eyebrow before slowly standing up. “Fine then, keep your secrets.” He said spitefully. He hesitated and took cautious steps away from the beast. It didn’t react, so Foolish moved faster to get away.

It didn’t take him long to realize that this was not the realm he was used to. The Godly Realm was much, much brighter than this. And there wasn’t much grass, and this certainly wasn’t the temple he was used to.

“Oh Gods,” He muttered in annoyance. He was no longer in the Godly Realm after all… this is the mortal realm. He rubbed his furrowed brow, closing his eyes and sighing. He didn’t remember how he was put down here, but he knew it was probably a punishment for something.

He moved out of the forest and moved towards the only signs of civilization he could find. A large village was in the distance. Houses made of stone and wood encircled a large, grand structure, seemingly a castle, in the center of the village.

Foolish wandered around the streets, eyes on him. He was definitely out of place here. His golden skin stuck out like a sore thumb. These creatures were definitely different from him, and they knew that too.

He eventually made his way to a marketplace. The bustling environment was just busy enough to allow him to blend in. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking taking in the scenery around him. However, he quickly began paying attention again when he was collided with, falling backward onto the cobblestone street below.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” Their deep voice rang out, adjusting their cloak. They offered Foolish a hand. He pulled himself up, dusting off his attire.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” He said lightly. Foolish looked up, emerald eyes meeting… sunglasses. It was rather peculiar; through the sunglasses appeared to be a light, but it must have been a trick of the mind.

The stranger took in Foolish’s appearance before smirking slightly. “You’re not from around here, are you?” They said, almost knowingly.

Foolish hesitated for a moment. Why should he tell them anything? The two just met less than a minute ago. But he needed to figure out what was happening and why he found himself in the mortal realm. He laughed lightly. “Not exactly.” He rubbed the back of his neck lightly.

The stranger nodded slightly. “I think I understand.” They said. They looked around the crowd before adjusting the sunglasses. “Well, do you want to come with me? I might be able to help you figure out some things.” They suggested.

He opened his mouth, intending to refuse the offer. He had just met the mortal, how was he supposed to trust them? For all he knew this might just be a ruse to steal from him. Not that Foolish had any belongings to get stolen.

The totem looked around before sighing in defeat. He didn’t have many other options other than going with them. “Sure, that would be helpful.” he conceded.

The stranger offered the god their hand. He took it apprehensively as they began to weave through the crowd of townspeople. They moved toward the center of the village, toward the grand stone castle. Rainbow banners adorned the large, sturdy cobblestone walls surrounding the castle. There was a set of large wooden doors set in a stone archway. The place seemed fit for a king, something the cloaked stranger definitely wasn’t. But that didn’t stop them from their trajectory to the doors.

Foolish trailed behind, slowly getting more confused by their actions. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” He questioned.

They let out a low chuckle. Shaking their head, the stranger replied. “I’m fairly certain.” The stranger looked back at him with a light smirk, mumbling something, but the words were lost among the noise of the crowd around them.

The totem followed hesitantly. They did not seem to stop their approach to the castle doors. Foolish waited for a moment or two for them to change their path, and of course, they didn’t waver. “See, the only reason I doubt that is because you seem to be heading right for the castle doors and-” he started before trailing off.

The two stopped at the large wooden doors. Foolish seemed dumbfounded as the stranger lowered the hood of their cloak. The guards gave a curt bow to them before opening the doors.

The King took a few steps into the castle grounds before turning back to the god. A smirk adorned their features. “So are you gonna come in or what?” They asked in a teasing manner.

Foolish cleared his throat, clamoring to regain his composure. “Yeah, of course.” He said quickly, moving to follow the seemingly unbothered king. He couldn’t believe that happened. He just completely embarrassed himself in front of the ruler of the town he found himself in. Surely they would find that disrespectful. “Your Highness, I am so sorry, I-” He started, trailing off when he heard them chuckle.

“There’s no need for the formalities.” They said with a wave of the hand. Foolish blinked a few times, trying to wrap his brain around this situation. “Especially because I believe that your title may supersede mine.” They said, giving a knowing look.

Foolish let out a sigh of relief. So they were aware of his godhood. That was relieving to know, but also terrifying. Were they planning something? What were they going to do with him? They didn’t seem to have any bad intentions, but who knows?

He didn’t get a chance to say anything in response, as a servant approached them with their crown. The ruler ran a hand through their curled locks. They rested the crown on their head while listening to the servant’s word. The crown sat gracefully on their dark hair; it looked like it truly belonged on the silhouette of their regal figure.

“I’m going to take my guest to my chambers. In the meantime, can you prepare a room for him?” They said to the girl. She gave a nod before giving a bow of respect before heading off down a hallway.

They took a deep breath before turning back to Foolish. “Sorry about that. I know your time is valuable.” They said before continuing their way through the halls of the castle. Foolish looked around, getting caught up in the architecture and art along the walls. The place looked perfect. There wasn’t a single thing out of place or a thing the god would have changed if he was the one who built the palace.

The ruler moved toward a door, opening it slowly. “We can talk more here. I don’t want any listening ears to hear. Rumors spread like wildfire.” They said. They held the door open for Foolish to enter.

He entered the room, looking around. The quarters were definitely grand compared to a normal bedroom, but Foolish would consider them humble compared to what he expected from a king’s chamber. Light seeped in from the sheer curtains. The king led him to a sofa toward the corner of the bedroom, taking the cloak off and draping it across the bed, revealing formalwear. They must have worn the cloak as a disguise to go into the marketplace.

“Your Highness, I-”

The king chuckled, shaking their head. “I told you not to call me that, but I never introduced myself, how stupid was that.�� They said lightly. They sat on the chair across from Foolish. “Please, call me Eret.”

Foolish was suddenly aware of the fact that he had never introduced himself either. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Eret. My name is Foolish.” He said with a grin.

“So what’s the occasion that our little kingdom is being visited by a god like yourself?” They asked softly. They adjusted their position in the chair before chuckling. “If I would have known you were visiting, I would have cleaned up a bit.” They said jokingly.

“Cleaned up a bit? This place looks pristine.” Foolish mused. He looked around the room with an excited smile. “Also, I love the architecture, and did you see the chandelier in the entrance hall, it’s amazing.”

The king chuckled. “I have seen the chandelier.” They said lightly.

Eret seemed like a weight lifted off their shoulders. Their posture was no longer as straight as a board, and their shoulders were considerably less tense. It had been so long since they were able to be this informal with someone. Everywhere else they were the King, but in this room with Foolish, they were Eret once again. In fact, it had been so long since they heard someone use their first name.

“But I highly doubt you came here just to compliment our castle, though I do appreciate it.” They said. They absentmindedly fidgeted with a button on their shirt, listening intently.

Foolish chuckled nervously. “That’s the thing.” He said. He took a deep breath, looking around the room. “I don’t remember what happened. I remember being in the realm of the gods, and then I remember waking up in the woods.” He was being straightforward because that’s all he knew. There wasn’t much else to say. “There was a creature who looked like a cloud and ate grass and he was not very helpful in my search for answers.” He began recounting the events of his arrival.

Eret laughed genuinely, a sound they hadn’t heard in a long time. They clearly overestimated how much understanding Foolish would have of the mortal realm. “It sounds like you ran into a sheep.” They said with a grin.

“Well, this sheep was not very helpful.” He said spitefully. He sighed in annoyance, to Eret’s amusement. He continued, losing his anger toward the animal. “I left him in the woods and I started walking toward your city. It was the only thing I saw.” He said.

Eret nodded. “I’m just wondering why you got sent here of all places.” They said before their face paled slightly. “Not that I don’t enjoy your company, that’s not what I meant. I just mean that our small kingdom is hardly worthy of a visit from a god.” They rambled nervously.

“Eret calm down, dude. I’m not gonna smite you or anything.” Foolish joked, laughing. Eret laughed, nervousness still filling his voice.

Once the moment passed, Eret looked up at him, bright eyes peering at him through their sunglasses. “If you don’t mind me asking, what are you the god of?” They asked. The kingdom wasn’t exactly known for being religious or knowing much about the pantheon of gods. They were free to practice any religion, and there wasn’t much of an emphasis on it anyway.

Foolish thought of a way to phrase it. “The easiest way I can explain it is ‘Undying’. I help things last. Permanence and equilibrium. Saying ‘the god of life’ doesn’t do it justice, because life implies death, implies an end. That’s just not what I do.” He said, being careful with his words. He didn’t want to be misinterpreted. He didn’t want Eret to assume he was something he’s not.

Eret listened, taking in everything he said. They nodded. “Well, we are happy to have your presence.” They said, giving a slight bow of the head.

“No, you don’t have to do that stuff. The bowing and formalities. I was never one for being worshipped. Just consider me a friend.” He said, a smile forming across his face.

They smiled slightly in response. “Of course.” They said. They leaned back in the chair, brushing a few loose curls from their eyes. “Although we will have to introduce you to the people. The whole marketplace saw you. I wouldn’t want any rumors to start to spread about your intentions. The last thing we need is an angry mob.” They said, furrowing their brow slightly as they thought.

“Oh well, that’s no problem. I can just go out and talk to them, I’ve always been a people person. I-” Foolish started, a grin on his face before Eret stopped him.

“No, no, no that won’t do.” They said, shaking their head. “I know you don’t like the formalities but I feel like your arrival warrants a bit more than a trip to the market.”

“So you’re gonna throw me a party?” He asked, growing excited.

“You could say that. A little bit more formal than that. I can have the tailor make you a formal outfit and I can have a banquet planned for the end of the week if you wish.” They said.

“What’s a banquet?”

Eret sighed, a soft smile appearing across their face. “A fancy word for a party.”

Foolish grinned. “I’m in.”

The next few days were filled with making preparations for the introductory banquet and getting used to the mortal realm. Foolish didn’t seem to have any of the powers he displayed in the realm of the gods, but he was hoping they would come back in time. What’s the point of a party if he couldn’t do his best party trick: summoning lightning?

He was still getting used to the kingdom. It was cold compared to the weather he was used to in his desert domain in the godly realm, but he was growing accustomed to it. He was also exploring the different options of food the castle could provide. He was a god, therefore he didn’t have to eat mortal food, but that didn’t mean it didn’t taste good.

Eret was helping Foolish adjust to his new situation. When they weren’t in meetings or busy preparing for the banquet, they would be introducing Foolish to concepts of the mortal realm. It didn’t always go well. They had to drag the disgruntled god from the royal stables when he began to give a sheep a piece of his mind, assuming it was the same unhelpful sheep he met on his first day.

But most of the time it went well. Seeing Foolish have a lack of understanding of basic concepts was quite funny, but Eret displayed nothing but overwhelming patience.

Eret was working hard to make the banquet a success. They didn’t just consider Foolish a royal asset like they believed he would be at their first meeting. They were growing to consider him a friend. And if the gods allowed it, they were going to throw their new friend the best banquet he could ever want.

Indeed, it was the best banquet he could ever want, because Foolish had no idea what to expect, and he had nothing to base his expectations on. When he walked into the ballroom, he was amazed. It was his first time in the room, and he was amazed by the architecture of the room. When he spent time building his own grand structures in his realm, he always struggled with the interior the most, so seeing such a magnificent design inspired awe.

Eret was busy getting any last-minute preparations in order when they noticed Foolish walk into the room. They finished up their conversation before heading in his direction.

“I hate to break it to you, Foolish, but you have your bow tie on upside down.”

Foolish broke his attention from the light fixture to his outfit. The tailor did a wonderful job on the suit, Foolish just had trouble putting the ensemble on correctly.

“Is it really that big of a deal?”

Eret laughed. “I suppose not.” They said. “It gives character.”

Foolish chuckled before giving a confused look. “Is that a good thing?”

“I’d say so.”

“Well, I’d say thanks.”

Eret raised an eyebrow at the weird wording of his reply before brushing it off. “Anyway the guests are expected to come any minute now. I’m probably just going to say a few words of an introduction and explanation, and you can say something if you want. No pressure or anything. Then it’ll just be kind of a mingling kind of situation.” They explained.

Foolish nodded slightly. “Rodger dodger.” He acknowledged.

It didn’t take long for the guests to start filing into the ballroom, chatting in hushed excitement over the expected announcement. They had all heard about the stranger with golden skin who wandered the marketplace, and no matter what kind of rumor they heard, they were excited to finally figure out the truth.

The king eventually stood up from their seat at the head table, smoothing out their semi-formal gown instinctively. They tapped their silverware against the champagne glass, the soft clinks enough to mostly quiet the crowd of guests.

“So by now, I’m assuming you’ve noticed the elephant in the room? Or should I say god in the room?”

Half the crowd responded with laughter, while the other gave gasps of surprise.

“Yes. Our small kingdom is being visited by a god for reasons unknown to myself, or himself for that matter. Foolish, the god of the undying, finds himself in the mortal realm for reasons he cannot remember, but I think it’s only right that we welcome him with open arms.”

The room started chattering, but Eret was quick to calm their concerns.

“I’m inviting him in as a friend, nothing like what you’re thinking, I can assure you of that. Over the past few days, I have been shown nothing but kindness from Foolish and I’d expect nothing less from him to you all.”

Foolish, seated at Eret’s right side, stood up. “Yeah, I’m not exactly into the whole ‘worshipping thing.’ I was thrown here by chance and I’m just here to help out... I think. I mean, I really don’t know what I was put down here for, but I’m gonna help regardless. I didn’t expect anything coming in here, but I’ve received a great friendship from your king and I’m hoping I can make even more friends and prove I’m here to help.” He said sincerely. He spoke informally at the start but quickly remembered the situation he was in. He began acting more proper, but it was clearly unnatural.

The room chuckled at his words.

Eret smiled, knowing that the words of kindness were probably the only genuine ones they had received in a long time. “I couldn’t have phrased it better myself.” They took a deep breath, gesturing to Foolish that he could return to his seat if he wanted. “So I arranged this banquet as a meet and greet situation. That way you all could get to know him better throughout the night. So enjoy yourselves.” They said before sitting back in their seat as well.

The meal went well, and the mingling was going even better. Foolish was a natural entertainer, and the people of the kingdom were loving him. Any fears in their minds dissipated, surely he had no bad intentions.

As the night began to a close, Foolish began to look for Eret. His main objective was to thank them, but he had a couple questions in mind as well. He eventually found them on the balcony. Their silhouette outlines by the moonlight as they leaned against the banister, gazing at the stars.

“Did I scare you off with my extremely charming personality?” Foolish mused with a toothy grin.

Eret chuckled lightly. “More like with your extremely inflated ego.” They retorted, but the smile on their face showed there was no seriousness behind his words.

Foolish laughed too, joining them along the banister.

They looked back out to the horizon. “It’s nothing you did; the parties have always gotten a little too overwhelming for me. Sometimes it’s just nice to take a break and get some fresh air.”

Foolish paused for a moment. “Yeah, I can’t relate.” He said bluntly. “Anyway, I have a couple of questions before you mortals make no sense to me.”

The royal laughed. “Go on.”

“What’s that noise I keep hearing?”

Eret looked back at him. “What do you mean?” He furrowed his brow slightly, assuming that this was a genuine problem.

Foolish, too, seemed confused. “You don’t hear it? It’s like-” he started before hesitantly humming the tune of the melody of the string quartet playing on the stage in the ballroom. “It’s fainter now, but I think it’s coming from those guys with the wooden weapons.”

Eret looked at Foolish, trying to read if he was joking. “You have to be kidding me.” They said lightheartedly.

Foolish only shook his head, his look only becoming more confused.

Eret covered their mouth, laughing the hardest they have in a long time. “Foolish that’s music. They’re playing the music on their instruments. Those aren’t weapons.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s music. It’s a form of art.”

“What’s the point?”

Eret slowly stopped laughing, realizing this would be harder to explain than he thought. He never really thought about it.

“It’s harmony and melody, two forces that are tugging at each other but ultimately work together to form the beauty you’re hearing..”

“But once it’s over, it’s gone. It’s forgotten.”

“But the emotions and memories it leaves behind aren’t.”

Foolish opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. He contemplated the other’s words for a moment. He was used to permanence, to constancy. Everything here in this realm was temporary, but it sure was beautiful.

In the moment, he wondered if his and Eret’s friendship would remain a constant. He hoped it would be.

He had no idea how quickly he would be proven wrong.

The silence was nice. It was comfortable. But it too wasn’t permanent.

“Thank you. For the banquet, and for everything before that too. If you hadn’t taken me in I’d probably still be harassing that sheep. It means a lot.” Foolish said. His eyes didn’t leave the horizon.

Eret slowly smiled. “I should be thanking you actually.” They said. They brushed a few curls from their eyes. “Our friendship has helped me more than you could ever know.”

They stared out to the horizon, both enjoying the quiet moment and wondering what would come next for them. The refrain of the quartet humming in their ears as they took in the fresh air.

Eret was the first one to break the silence. “I’ll help you get back to your realm, if that’s what you wish. But until you find your way, you’ll always have a place at my side.”

Foolish couldn’t help but smile, emerald eyes looking over at them. “And you have a place at mine.”

As the music faded away and the crowd dispersed, the pair’s friendship was set in stone.

This nice, tender moment would live in their minds forever.

Well… one of their minds at least

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