#it’s not that huge a phenomenon but if you see someone with what looks like a genderqueer flag saying confusingly TERFy things

[genderqueerblog]

Genderqueer culture is being pissed at terfs for stealing our colours (sorry if this is dour)

June 22, 2024.

[mariasont]

hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !

can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).

maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)

i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈

love your work !!! 😙

HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------

A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3

we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry

wc: 1.9k

Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity. 

Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating. 

You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.

In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"

Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper. 

He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."

His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.

"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"

He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.

He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.

His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."

You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue. 

As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."

The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.

Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.

Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.

You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered. 

In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"

Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"

Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.

He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"

He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness. 

"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."

You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.

You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.

You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."

You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down. 

"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.

You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.

Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."

His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.

"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."

You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated. 

"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead. 

He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."

Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."

You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.

Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs. 

"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."

He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth. 

He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair. 

"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."

[himegureisu]

You

Summary: Your husband, Severus, finally introduces you to his colleagues. The Hogwarts staff.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Female Reader

A/N: I feel like I forgot some people.

In the previous and last staff meeting of the year, the headmaster announced the schedule for the Annual Staff dinner.

This commemorated the end of a successful school year and the hopes for more to come. They were always encouraged but not required to attend the festivities. Your husband, Severus, would often stay for an hour before leaving.

This year, however, he vaguely inquired about inviting a guest to the castle.

A phenomenon that didn’t happen quite often and one that Dumbledore wasn’t lenient to grant. This sparked their intrigue and excitement. They were quite eager to meet you. They hoped it was you. The one that puts a smile on their Potions’ Master’s face.

To no surprise, the headmaster stated that any guest of his was welcome to join in the festivities.

Especially if it would encourage him to interact longer than what was professionally deemed necessary in a setting that was not the Three Broomsticks, Hog’s Head, Grimmauld Place, his office, or the high table in the Great Hall.

That’s why you were home, in front of your mirrored wardrobe half naked, unable to decide on what to wear.

“How about this?” you turned, black robes at hand, “Yes? No?”

“You’ll look splendid in anything, darling, in fact,” Severus said, from the bed admiring the sight of you. “I quite like what I see at the moment,”

He smirked.

His eyes locked on you in a haze of desire. Your cheeks heat up as he slowly walks over. His hand reaches out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Severus,” his lips dangerously close to yours, your heart racing, his scent enticing, your hand gently pushing him away, “We shouldn't,”

“Why don’t we put that away for a moment?” His warm breath against your cheek sends shivers down your spine, your defenses crumbling as he puts the clothes away, leaning toward you, "Hmm?"

His lips are tender on yours as he pulls you closer. His eyes searched yours in consent, and you surrendered to his heated touch. Your arms wrap around his neck as you lose yourself in his embrace. His robes were warm and soft against your bare skin. Your nose gently nudges his. Closer. More. You silently pleaded. His hands roamed every contour and curve of your exposed skin.

His clothes needed to go. Now.

——————————— 🪄———————————

In the end, you’d matched his outfit. In black robes, and shoes, except for your jewelry in platinum and a scarf in your house colors.

“You were of no help,” you said, after apparating outside Hogwarts grounds’, “No help at all,”

“You love me,” he laughed, you pouted as he showed you in, “Yes, I do,”

In the castle halls, Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall caught the sound of his laughter. Their eyes turned to the bridge where their Potions’ Master walked side by side with a lovely woman.

“It’s time,”

In the spirit of celebration, their staff room was tastefully adorned in Hogwarts’ colors. Each color was distributed in a way that one was not as prominent as the other. His colleagues were absorbed in their own tasks as the two of you entered.

There were three women by the fire, punch at hand, talking. One you recognize as the Head of Gryffindor House and Transfiguration Professor, McGonagall. By the punch table, there was a small man you know from description as the Charms Professor, Flitwick, and a huge man, Hagrid. The remainder, however, were unfamiliar.

“Severus, so glad of you to join us, my boy,” the Headmaster entered from an office within, “Who is this lovely lady with you?”

“Someone you all wanted to meet for quite some time now,” Severus remarked, as he pulled you closer by his side, “My wife,”

“Oh, finally!” one small but lively woman, head full of curls, approached you, “You made quite an impression, dear,”

“We have never seen Severus so chastised,” Professor McGonagall joined the throng, “It was the highlight of our days,”

“Oh please,” Severus huffed, as you glanced at him and said, “I would’ve thought you’d open that Howler in a more private setting,”

“I was told Howlers shouldn’t be left waiting,” he justified, and sighed, “Imagine my guilt upon opening it,”

“You made up for it quite well, Sev,” you smile, his body relaxes, “Though, I hope outings like those wouldn’t need much incentive to be done,”

“I’ll do my best, my dear,” he sighed, and said, “Ah, apologies, formal introductions.”

His colleagues, Professor Hooch, Sprout, Pomfrey, Flitwick, McGonagall, and Trelawney greeted you in their way. They were very pleased to meet you and whisked you away once your husband was distracted by the headmaster for their short inquisition about your marriage.

To which you happily recanted for them because Severus was a private man and kept information about you to the chest.

It takes him an hour to escape the clutches of the Headmaster and return by your side. With the ladies by the fireplace, thoroughly exposing your husband’s romantic side to them.

“I simply cannot imagine Severus doing such,” Sprout chuckled, “Then again it is you, not us,”

“What are you talking about?” he menacingly came up behind you but no one was intimidated, “Darling?”

“Do you remember that trip to wizarding Paris?” you said. It takes him only moments to recall. His cheeks to the tips of his ears quickly flushed then he hid his face in your hair, “Dear god, please tell me you didn’t tell them that,”

“No, not exactly that,” you giggled. His arms securely wrapped around your waist, “But a more censored version,”

“We’re going now,” he insisted pulling you away from them as they laughed and you squealed, “Severus!”

“You are all menaces,” he pointed to the women as they stifled their laughter, turning to you, “And you are the worst of them all,”

“I love you,” you teasingly grinned, as he sighed happily taking your presence in, “And, I too,”

They briefly stared in awe at your husband’s admission. That’s how much you can get in public but in private he never hesitated to tell or show you his love. Their stares changed to smiles as he wrapped his arms around you. Your hands on top of each other’s above your stomach, rings twinkling in the firelight as you both warm up to them.

It was the first and only time he ever stayed the whole duration of the Annual Staff dinner.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Hi can you write like a small one-shot where thor sneaks the reader into Asgard to surprise loki for Christmas and because she needs to tell him that shes pregnant

.⋆｡The Things He Left Behind｡⋆.

Loki x plus size reader

Pregnancy announcements can be terrifying even for regular people but with your baby daddy being a Frost Giant, god, a criminal and someone who has pretty much implied he doesn’t want kids, you have a long uphill battle. Oh, and it’s Christmas

Warnings: pregnancy, fear of rejection, fluff, brief mentions of morning sickness and nausea, implied smut, tiny bit of angst

WC: 2.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Being pregnant was an interesting phenomenon; a person was growing inside of you, someone who would grow up to be their own adult. You knew logically that at only a couple months along, the baby was simply a clump of cells that would eventually mature into something new. But already, you were so attached to the life that could be.

Normally, something so monumental as being pregnant with a child born from love between life partners would be celebrated, but your heart was filled with dread and fear. The relationship you had was rocky at best, not in terms of love, there was plenty of that, but because he was a criminal and a dangerous one at that.

It was a punishment for his crimes. He was to be kept on Earth, stuck with the men and women he had attempted to rule. You met him by chance, accidentally bumping into the striking god as you were rushing to attend a meeting on behalf of your boss. As you fell to the floor, you caught his eyes and something shifted within you as it did within him.

Your love had been secret, growing in the darkness of the dead of night, in shadowy corridors and empty rooms. Your soul ached for him as if he held a piece of you in his cold hands, never to be returned. You were his just as much as he was yours and for a time, that was enough. 

But as the months carried on, the looming threat of his inevitable departure became monstrous. There was no changing his fate, he would have to leave and you both knew that your pleas and your begging for him to stay would fall on deaf ears. So on his last night with you, he slipped from the not-so-watchful eyes of Earth’s greatest heroes and stole you away.

He took you to Paris, lavishing you with gifts that you still held sacred to this day. He worshipped you with everything he had, taking you apart over and over again until the cold light of day washed over your naked bodies and he was forced to leave your bed in handcuffs.

But jewels and books were not the only things he left you. 

The exhaustion came first, then the extreme tenderness of your breasts, and lastly, the dreaded morning sickness. Your boss, Maria Hill, was the first to broach the issue with you after you had fallen asleep at your desk one too many times. She shoved the box of tests into your hand, telling you it was ok and that she knew but didn’t judge. 

Now, as the first snow of the year began to fall and your stomach was beginning to round out, you approached the one man who could help you. “Thor?” His eyes met yours from over the back of the huge leather sofa. A pop-tart crumb hung on the corner of his lips which fell off as soon as he smiled when he saw you. 

“Ah! My brother’s love! How are you on this fine day?” You chuckled humorlessly and decided to indulge the god for a bit before asking him a favour which might get him into some serious trouble.

“I’m doing ok, looking forward to Christmas.” You nervously shuffled on your feet, the modest kitten heels you had been forced to wear because of your aching feet, clicking against the dark hardwood flooring. Even with his deep confusion regarding human behaviour, Thor could see how anxious you were.

He shifted forward and rose from the couch then turned to you. “There is something amiss, what is it?”

“You need to get me to Asgard. I have to see Loki.” He froze as a bewildered look came over his face. 

“I cannot do that my lady. Even I am not allowed to visit my brother and he is, well he is my little brother. Odin has ordered him to be isolated from everyone as his-“

“I’m pregnant!” You blurted out, interrupting the god. “I’m pregnant with Loki’s baby.” Thor’s body physically seized as the weight of your words hit him. His blue eyes went wide with shock, and if you weren’t mistaken, maybe a little bit of excitement. 

Tentatively, he inched closer to you. Like a puppy, he was vibrating with nerves. “Really!” Unable to help yourself, you smiled at your friend.

“Really really.” Your hand came to rest on the soft fat above your womb. “But Thor, Loki needs to know. And I need help, I don’t know how a human body will handle growing a half-Frost Giant demigod.” 

“Yes.” He agreed. “Yes! We must bring you back home and then we can fix all of this.” Thor looked frazzled as he righted himself in front of you. “Mother will have some idea of what to do and I’m sure she will be able to sneak you into the prison.” Before you could realise what was happening, Thor had swept you into his muscular arms and was running through the compound.

“Thor! We can’t go now! I need to get my things!” You bounced with every step he took and you clung to his shirt. 

Thor shook his head. “I can bring you new things, we must get you home.” The winter air hit you like a slap in the face as the god bounded outside, not even flinching at the drastic change in temperature. “Just hold tight my friend, you will be with your beloved soon enough!”

——————

Asgard was completely overwhelming and as you walked through the golden streets, arm linked with Thor’s, you finally understood why Loki spoke so ill of the place. Each and every person you passed carried an air of smug superiority about them, even as they bent in a shallow bow or curtsy to their prince. They were gods, perfect beings who had conquered worlds and existed for thousands of years in peace.

The huge palace drew closer and your hold tightened around Thor. You had the distinct urge to hold your belly for comfort, to know that part of Loki was still with you, but you were scared of the judgemental gazes of the beautiful people around you. “We are almost there my friend. I will take you straight to the Allmother.”

He patted your hand kindly. “Everyone here is scarily beautiful.” You mutter under your breath but evidently he heard you.

“Then you will fit right in.” He murmured back as you stepped over the threshold to his childhood home. The ornate walls towered over you both, sealing you into a place you should have never been. The gold is almost blinding, coating pretty much every surface as far as the eye could see.

You cringed at the loudness of your small heels against the floor, the sound echoing through the great halls like a drum. Your fingers curled into Thor’s warm skin. He glanced down at you but your eyes were fixed straight ahead, oblivious to his gaze. He just started walking faster, unable to find the words to comfort you.

The smell of lilies invaded your senses, turning your stomach. Your nausea had settled after your first trimester ended but apparently the baby just didn’t like flowers. The smell steadily became stronger, as did the urge to throw up but by the time you reached a set of dark oak doors, your nerves were far more overpowering.

Before Thor could even raise his fist to knock, the doors swung inwards, revealing a bright but homey room absolutely bursting with colour. An older woman stood in the entryway, dressed simply in a flowing green dress, her dark blonde hair braided back simply. Her eyes lit up with a knowing light. “My Thor.” She cooed, easily accepting a crushing hug from the god before she turned to you. 

“I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time my dear.” She said plainly and suddenly all your nerves were gone. Your grimace floated into a smile as her arms wrapped around you in a hug so loving it made your chest burn with affection. 

Unable to stop yourself, you nuzzle into her safe embrace, your whole body relaxing. She laid a kiss to your temple before pulling away but her hands remained firmly on your shoulders. “Loki has told me all about you, he will be happy to see you.”

Anxiety returned like a tidal wave, washing away the warm feeling your almost mother-in-law gave you. Your smile dimmed while your hands came to rest on your lower stomach. “He might not be as excited when he learns why I’m here.” 

Frigg’s hands move to cup your rounded cheeks, forcing you to meet her eyes. “He loves you and he will love the child. Even if it doesn’t seem that way at first. Now let us make sure you and the little one are fed and healthy and then you can see him.” She took you by your left hand and guided you further into the room as Thor, with a huge smile on his face, left the two of you alone to talk.

——————

Christmas was vastly different on Asgard, you learned quickly. There was no snow, no cold, no carols or quiet nights. It mainly consisted of feasts and celebrations that lasted for days. But what was the same were the gifts. Thousands were exchanged through the festivities and Thor had somehow gotten into his head that you were the gift he was going to give to his estranged brother.

Much to his own and his mother’s amusement, he ripped up a piece of fabric and tied it in a bow around your midsection. “Come now! He will love it!” You just huffed and rolled your eyes but allowed him to continue making small adjustments to the bow. 

Frigg sat on one of the many couches in her chambers, sipping on a now mostly cold cup of tea as she laughed at the pair of you. A large weight had been lifted from the room now that the healer had confirmed the baby was healthy and growing as they should. 

And now, a warmth grew within you. This was what you wanted, a loving family with the man who had so easily snatched up your heart. All of the material things he had left behind were nothing compared to this moment. 

As the sun began to set over the great city, you were bundled up in a thick cloak that disguised you well and led you down to the prison. The guards turned their heads as who they assumed was the queen passed by on her nightly visit to her younger son. They knew it was technically not allowed by the king but it stopped the dark prince from destroying his cell every chance he got, so they just let it happen.

His cage was kept far away from the others, isolated for his crimes, even from those who faced the same harsh punishments. Yet he was given luxuries that none of the others were afforded, Loki assumed it was pity from his adoptive family that drove them to decorate the small room with lavish goods.

From the angle at which you entered his part of the prison, you could clearly see your love without him seeing you. You felt like crying. He was so close, you swore if you reached out just a few inches, you could touch him. 

Loki was sitting on the ground, his back to you, as he stared off into space. His hair, normally clean and beautifully styled, fell in front of his face in unruly raven waves, partially hiding his paler than normal skin. He was barefoot and wearing clothes that should have been changed days ago.

Your heart lurched at the sight of him. In the months you had known him, you had never seen the god so… broken.  And you supposed that’s what he was. He had been tortured and betrayed, cast aside by the only people he had known as his family before being labelled a criminal and thrown away to rot. Tears blurred your vision before you quickly wiped them away with a sniffle.

“I have told you that I do not want to see anyone mother.” He hissed, letting his head fall back against the enchanted glass as he did so.

“I had hoped that you would make an exception for me.” Your voice was weak but just the sound alone caused his whole body to freeze. 

Slowly, almost cautiously, he rose to his feet, turning on his heel to face you. As soon as his eyes met yours, his body visibly fell and his face disappeared behind his hands. “Loki?” A heartbreaking sob ripped from his lungs as he collapsed to his knees.

Panic set your veins alight and with a trembling hand, you used the small magic key Frigg had bestowed upon you to enter the cell. You wasted no time, immediately taking him into your arms for the first time in months.

His face burrowed into the crook of your neck as he wound around you. He shook in your embrace, his tears soaking through your clothes as he cried, holding onto you as tight as you could. You placed kiss after kiss to his head in a vain attempt to sooth him as you succumbed to your own emotions.

“Are you really here?” You tried to answer him through the tears but all you could get out was more of a grunt than a word but you nodded against his hair and squeezed him even tighter. “H-how?”

Loki pulled away from you just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were bloodshot, making the blue of his irises even more striking. “Thor and your mother.” You managed to stammer out. 

There was a brief moment of silence as his dark brow furrowed in what you assumed to be confusion. His gaze dropped down to your body, still hidden by the thick cloak, then looked around the cell as if searching for someone. “Who else is here? I sense another presence.” 

“That's why I came here.” You gently guided his left hand down to your bump that seemed to grow each day, laying his palm flat against your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

Loki’s breath caught, his eyes going wide. And he flinched.

Immediately, you were consumed by the fear you had tried so hard to tamp down since the first moment you saw that little plus sign on the test. He didn’t want the baby, he didn’t want you. This whole thing was a mistake, your mind screamed at you. But as your muscles tensed like you were preparing to run, Loki snapped out of it.

The world blurred around you and suddenly you were laying on a small bed in the corner, Loki hovering over you. His lean body slid easily between your soft thighs, pinning you to the surprisingly comfortable mattress with his weight. “My love. You’re truly with child?” His voice shook, his hand returning to your stomach.

“26 weeks as of yesterday and perfectly healthy.” He nodded and met your gaze once more, a small smile growing on his pallid lips.

“I had a feeling. I thought- I thought something happened to you but it was just a new life being formed.” You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed against the bed.

“And how would you know that?” You cooed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Darling just because I have been locked away doesn’t mean that I can’t still use my magic.” His hand slipped up your front, obviously intending to go for your swollen breast but he paused at the extra piece of fabric that was now laying around your waist. “What is this?”

You responded with a giggle. “A bow. Thor wanted to give me to you for Christmas.” A fond look came over his face then, a realisation that you were not yet privy to.

“Indeed this is the best gift he could have ever given me.” Then for the first time in six months, he kissed you.

And as he stripped away your clothes and made love to you more tenderly than ever before, you couldn’t help but agree- this was the best gift to ever have been given

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[umitsy]

Yandere college nerd pt. 3 | pt. 2 | pt. 1

warnings: kidnapped reader, love obsession, threatening, food and water deprivement, mentions of murdering, accuse falsely

reader's g/n

A day with Claude, could go on many types of ways—here I'll list some of them.

➻ He would firstly feed you breakfast, sometimes letting you by yourself 'cause he has to attend some urgent matters as soon as possible if he hadn't get rid of those the night before already.

➻ When he returns to the house those days though, expect him to get really clingy. He sometimes gives you space if you really do not like physical contact, but more often than not, he'll hug you while he feeds you whatever food he's brought for the afternoon.

➻ However, once his lessons have started, he'll get particularly strict and serious with you. It really reminds you of when he'd answer a complicated problem at the class and the teacher would ask him to explain it to everyone.

➻ He ends up mixing almost all topics into one class of his. Starting off with Maths—he'd go on about the scientific behind those equations to their importance in History, and so on. Don't even think about asking him when is it going to end because he'll add more time as punishment.

➻ When he can stay with you in the mornings though, he'll first ask what you want to eat, anything really, he'll even learn right on the spot if it's something he doesn't even know the name about.

➻ When you struggle to eat, wether on the morning, evening, or nights—he'll definitely not be pleased. He knows you know how important it is for your body to it, so he might ask you nicely two or three times to eat, but if you still refuse, he'll start eating in front of you. Not necesarilly making exaggerated noises but the way he cooks each plate so deliciously looking it makes it impossible for you to resist too much.

➻ Does not let you have any devices at all-anything that needs internet connection goes out of your life right then and there. You'll only need a lamp, a projector (that only he is allowed to use) and a clock—that's it. He does not like all the lies internet spreads nor the facility people has gained of believing them. He does not want you to fall for any of it.

➻ When he unties you, he thinks you'll know better than to leave him, so the thought of chaining you back on the bed never crosses his mind ever again. However, if you do start trying to escape, he'll remorsefully lock you in your room for sometime. No food, no water—nothing but silence. Maybe after a couple of times suffering the lonely time you'll finally learn the most important lesson he wants to teach you—there's no one else for you than him, you'll only need him.

➻ If you get bored you'll always have a shelf full of educational books in his room. Yes, his. He has a rule of those books never leaving his room and has made very clear he can and watches you at all times, so you really didn't have much option. He likes when he arrives and sees you comfortably reading through a classic piece of Literature—or History, Human Body, Maths, whatever had caught your eye that day-sitting on the rocking chair he set up for you or on the bed.

➻ He gets that you might still be afraid of him, having read lots of sources about how a human may react to kidnapping—but with all this little actions of his, he tries to redeem and show his soft side. Just don't push it that much 'cause it's easier to break than to fix.

➻ What those urgent matters are about? Of course he didn't like that teacher to begin with and the school can surely get someone better, so who's gonna end with all his crap? He could easily kill him as he's studied the human body perfectly or—his least favorite—creating a huge rumour about him. Whatever that'll make him suffer the most without missing his daily lesson with you.

➹ "My favorite natural phenomenon? It’s the sparkle in your eyes."

I was thinking next chapter could be a scenario of reader trying to escape from him?

All writings' rights reserved © 2024 umitsy. (Credit to the respective owners of the pictures.)

[mylucayathoughts]

Little moments that I love in Red White and Royal Blue. PART 4. Okay I just keep finding them. This movie is a phenomenon.

"Alex, It's good to see you, sober." Henry's quip 😏 He obviously played different scenarios in his head before finally deciding on this one and probably practiced this on his way over. He knew Alex would be angry at him and probably tease him and so he went with something that would annoy Alex, throw him off his game 😏 and the look Alex is giving him here 😂

and the look Shaan is giving Alex 😭

Look how hard Alex is trying to think of why else he dislikes Henry 😂 he literally shifts uncomfortably moments later 😜 because he cannot find anything

and look how happy Henry is that Alex can't give him any other reason 🤣

And tell me if I'm wrong. In the red room, after Henry breaks their kiss, in utter disbelief he looks at Alex first

and then his lips

It's my favorite honestly, it's so cute and sweet 😍 Henry thinking how it was Alex this time who initiated the kiss and what this means 😌 his heart must have been doing some serious gymnastics 😏🤣

Ellen's "we're gonna need some pizza", imagine going to your parent and telling them something about yourself that you're very skeptical about sharing, but hearing them say this, or how they are interested in you is probably the best feeling. I love how Ellen here (being the president she probably stays very busy) realized her son needed this so she probably made time for him 🤧😭 and showed support in every possible way

Then Ellen tells her son how a relationship like this will define his life - she absolutely loves and cares for Alex and saw how this is going to affect him in more ways than one and wanted to tell him this, not to scare him or anything, just so that Alex is careful about his life choices .....then we get the I love yous 🤧❤️

I love love how Oscar already liked Henry, long before Alex liked Henry, his "he seems like a nice little guy" and then we get this scene later. The "call me congressman" and "well in that case you can call me your royal highness" lmao they are best friends already 😁😉 they understand each other's sarcasm even though they hardly meet

Yes Taylor literally invented hearteyes and you can see only one of his eyes here (😝) that too, sideways but we all feel his hearteyes on Henry. I love how animated Henry is here, for someone like Henry (who is such a closed off person and literally created and maintains a persona for everyone else that is not true to himself) to open up and feel so comfortable around someone is such a huge deal, that's how safe he feels around Alex 🤧

And the way they hold each other's hands 😩😍

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Buzz

Mattheo Riddle x Reader 

A/N: hi! loving your feedback and constructive criticism, so if you feel like sharing your opinion, feel free to do such! love ya 

Summary: How birthday day can go in such a different way than initially planned. 

Warnings: oh yes! language, some mild graphics (make-up lol), bitchy Pansy, and... have I mentioned language??

Word Count (bruh): 5.1k 

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO

No one would have convinced Y/N in the morning that what had just transpired was coming around, in such a slapdash rapidity as it had. Even so, with that clear-cut fact smacking her right across the face was it still so damn hard to believe that... that it was true.  

She must be hallucinating. Or dreaming. Even the phenomenon of swines with the wings in the air would have been more feasible than... what was that exactly?  

It all started with Y/N descending to the Great Hall, the walls woven with the luminant sunlight of the spring. Entering the room, humid and somewhat irksome (it was Monday, everything is irksome on Mondays, alright?), she instantly noticed a few details: McGonagall's new insipid hairstyle, the plate with her go-to breakfast already stowed in her regular sitting spot, Pansy’s huge grin tacked on her lips, and Blaise missing. The latest part surprised Y/N the most because she knew that Blaise would never skip a breakfast, and these were his usual hours of arriving; maybe he had already eaten?  

Also, what’s the Pansy’s deal with smiling like a madman who overdosed on the crack?  

What in the world...  

“Haiya you!” Pansy scrambled to her feet, without giving Y/N a chance to query. “Guess what! Or no, you are so bullshit at guessing anyways... Slytherin is throwing a party today!”  

The last part of her sentence came out in a feverish murmur, so that the Teachers’ Table wouldn’t overhear their conversation, and only loud enough for Y/N to hear. Still, her excitement was speaking volumes and Y/N wondered quickly whether Pansy really hadn’t dosed on a shot or two before the breakfast. Not that she wasn’t like that on a daily basis.  

“What? It’s literally the beginning of the week.”

“But not every week does someone have a birthday!” As Pansy’s elation gently receded, was then Y/N able to finally to abscond herself at the table and munch on the already-prepared food. Upon seeing Y/N frowning, Pansy let out a shrill shriek which made a few people nearby glance crabwise at the two. “You didn’t forget, did you?”  

“About what?”  

Another shriek followed. “Mattheo’s birthday!”  

An awkward grimace popped on Y/N’s face, brows knitting together. “Well... if you haven’t noticed, we are not precisely on the friendly terms.”  

Pansy made a fish-like O with her mouth, obviously about to say something appeasing, but the grunt next to Y/N interrupted. Promptly, she looked for the owner of the voice and was astonished to learn that the rest of their group was siding just next to her and Pansy, ostensibly listening to their exchange from the starters.  

“Well, well... just look who has finally decided to acknowledge the rest of her friends. Good morning to you too, Y/N.”  

She smirked. “No need to be so bitter, Theo. A few more years of practice and you may replace Snape in his disgruntlement.” A snort issued at the table and Y/N, complacent, grinned cheekily at Theo who only huffed. “Oh, don’t be like that, Theo, you know I love you.” Laying her head against his shoulder, she patted him at the top of his head. “There, there...”  

“So... party you say,” spoke up Draco for the first time. He was chewing on his morning toast, evidently amused by the entire scene, but his eyes had a ghost of a question in them. Y/N already knew that this topic wasn’t going to slip by as easily. “Have you really forgotten about Mattheo?”  

A smear of naked embarrassment splattered on Y/N’s cheeks. A part of her wanted to tell everyone to back off and just let her be, but at the same time, she knew she had blundered. It didn’t matter if they were close with Mattheo or not; they belonged to the same coterie, so it entangled some commitment. Even if that indicated associating with the bombastic entitlement of Mattheo for longer than the ideal time.  

“Mhm... Yeah. You know. How was I supposed to know, really. We barely talk.” While saying so, Y/N made sure to perform the best glower she could pull off. She felt extremely petulant while doing so, but she wanted to fend for herself and not let anyone manoeuvre her into culpability.  

“I told you about that, like two days ago!” Pansy had a distinct air of displeasure, as though personally offended by the occurrence. “I specifically highlighted ‘please, try to remember, it’s important’ and you said ‘fine’!”

“Well, I did not remember. And so, what? Don’t make such a big fuss about that. It’s not like he cares anyways,” Y/N said that with a nose in her breakfast plate, trying to avert the gaze from the rest, especially from Pansy who seemed to be at the brink of incredulity.  

She should have remembered though. She should have.  

Shit, shit, shit...  

Theo grunted again. “It’s not the end of the world, Pansy, we only have to find a way to... make Y/N appear like she’s not an ignorant brat who forgot about her friend's birthday.” A beat. Theo peeked at Y/N goadingly, but she was already shooting daggers at him; that made him smirk. “She can pin her name on the present we got with Blaise.”  

“Thank you, that’s really sweet,” said Y/N, making a U-turn and smiling gratefully at her friend. Gosh, she didn’t know what she would have done without this insolent arse. In order to take the limelight off herself, Y/N continued: “Why did you decide to organize the party so last-minute, anyways?”

“We didn’t know till now if we would be able to smuggle the booze,” said Draco through the half-full mouth.  

“And how ar--”  

“Don’t ask,” interjected Pansy with the look that explicitly indicated that Y/N wouldn’t like to know that piece of information. “Blaise is fixing everything.”  

In response, Y/N merely nodded.  

“So here is a deal,” Pansy continued after a beat. She lowered her timbre as if revealing a top-secret gossip to a bunch of nine-year-olds. “When Mattheo comes down, we are going to pretend like we don’t remember about his birthday. He is going to be sulking all day long and stuff-”

“Highly doubt th-”  

“However.” If the looks could kill, Theo would be surely laying prostrate, French-kissing the floor. “At around...” She looked at her wristwatch. “8-ish, Y/N will ask Mattheo if he could help her out, at the same time hauling him to the Common Room. And that’s when all of us will jump out and hold a fucking “Surprise” banner right in front of his pretty face. Clear much?”  

Y/N exhaled, with one nagging thought in her head. Why was she always the one to be arranged in such a setting with Mattheo? Her friends were acutely aware of the enmity between the two, yet they always impelled them to work together, both if it came to the school projects or even the group hangouts when everyone – beside her and Mattheo, obviously – would suddenly mingle out of the gathering last-minute.  

As if sensing the ongoing dissension in Y/N’s head, Pansy critically eyed Y/N and furrowed, precisely addressing her concerns: “Something to add, Y/N?”  

“No, I love the plan,” she replied quickly, after a moment of contemplation. “It’s that I’m not sure about the latest bit. I—I don’t know if he will accede, you know, with helping me out. We aren’t that friendly, so it may seem a tad suspicious that all of the sudden I’m asking him for a favour.”  

No one said anything for a couple of seconds, but everyone seemed to be having the same hardwired thought as they threw each other the same bemused look, chewing the silence away. The tension of the message, so palpable it was, that it made Y/N snap out of the anticipation; she turned to Pansy, catching the waft of her strong double expresso, and then ogled each of her friends with an expectant eye.  

“What?” Her tone seemed brusque, even to herself. “Why are you all acting so... meek? Is there something I don’t know about?” And then, the thought dawned at her: “Has Mattheo said something about me?”  

Another round of chary looks followed, but before anyone was able to lodge a definite answer to the barrage of Y/N’s questions, the voice from behind echoed:  

“Morning, everyone.”  

Y/N whirled so abruptly, it almost cost her a whiplash, but when she saw the way Mattheo suited himself today, it most definitely caused her that whiplash. He was clad in a button-up shirt, the last couple of buttons undone and exposing the cleavage; his hair of the usual dark-brown curl was tumbling in its usual haphazard style and accentuating his prominent cheekbones; most definitely, the vague scar across his face did not make Y/N anyhow randy. Anyhow!

What struck Y/N the most, however, was the halo above his head – sunlight seeping through the Great Hall’s windows and highlighting Mattheo’s figure. The image was so angelic, so lofty, it suddenly caused the dryness in her throat. She thought she must be melting under those caramel-brown eyes like a humongous puddle of sweat and adoration.  

No, she most definitely did not develop a crush on her frenemy, that couldn’t be right.    

Y/N suddenly realized that she might be gawking, so she promptly returned to her previous position, all her aptitude to eat and breathe gone. Sidewise, she also noticed Pansy grinning knowingly at her, and when Y/N gave her an evil eye, she merely shrugged in a manner of “you know what I mean.”  

Mattheo, instead of occupying his usual spot at the table, squeezed in between Y/N and some Slytherin second-year. Y/N had a vague impression that he was awaiting his friends to suddenly burst singing “Happy Birthday” or bestow him with wishes, because his lips were pressed in a thin line, and he was silently scooping the porridge from the ornamental bowl.  

“So, what’s new, Mattheo?” asked Theo which felt so widely inappropriate that Y/N suddenly had an urge to boot him.  

From this proximity, Y/N could perceive the brief flash of hurt across Mattheo’s features, but that was only for milliseconds. He plastered a sham smile on his face, and only tipped off with a short: “Not much.”  

“We were actually talking,” started Pansy, carefully. “That Y/N needed some tutoring in Potions.” This time, Y/N seriously contemplated booting someone. Namely, Pansy. “Maybe you could help her, Mattheo? You are good at Potions, right?”  

Dismissing Pansy’s last question, Mattheo finally eyed Y/N who was maxing out the redness of her face. She gave him a bashful smile. “Really? I thought you were good at Potions.”  

The blankness overcame her. Y/N, clearly at whom the question was directed, tried to contrive a blatant lie but failing more and more as the seconds elapsed. Panic-stricken, she looked at Pansy who was witnessing the entire fall with a pained expression.  

Shit.  

“I-- I have a problem with this n-new topic. Something connected with Pepperup Potion,” she finally spluttered out, after what felt like forever. Once more, she glanced at Pansy who gave her the thumbs-up (that crone!), but she made the point of averting Mattheo’s gaze. “But sure, if you don’t want t--”  

“No problem,” he broke off Y/N’s exhausted ramble. “Around 6-ish then?”  

“Actually,” said Pansy. “Me and Y/N are headed to the Hogsmeade at that time. Girly things, you know. Maybe you can meet up, afterward, like 7-ish?”

“Mhm, yeah, why not. As long as it’s okay with Y/N.” He shortly looked at her but she, mortified, merely responded with a nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then!” Pansy exclaimed a coda with a sort of exuberance which, apparently, nobody else shared. And Y/N couldn’t help but think how interesting her one-to-one with Mattheo is going to be.  

XOXOXOXXOXOXOXXOXO

Precisely two minutes before the appointed time, Y/N was at the foot of the library, taking in deep breaths.  

She didn’t know why she felt so overwrought. She thought she must be overreacting. It’s not like her and Mattheo hadn’t been alone with each other before.  

Rather, the opposite – they had been. Plenty of times.  

The worst part was, or the funniest -- Y/N wasn’t sure in which terms she should regard that case – she constantly kept recollecting the same printed image of Mattheo from the morning. In his unbuttoned shirt, with that tousled hair which really gave him a look of a lead vocalist from the “Weird Sisters.” And the weirdest bit was that Y/N found that immensely attractive.  

Maybe there was something wrong with her? Maybe it was her hormones butting in, her pre-period thirst for what’s been chucked by the universe? And again, why would the universe be afflicting her?  

Deciding that she would probably not find any answers to those unabating thoughts, Y/N thought that there was no longer point of dangling in front of the entrance like some kind of mule. She pushed the door, treaded through a couple of book sections before finally localizing Mattheo with his usual cavalier aura. He was scribbling something rather intently on the piece of parchment in front of him, so much was he absorbed that he didn’t even flinch when Y/N strode over to the table.  

She cleared her throat, announcing her presence. “Hey.”  

He ultimately quirked up, and gosh was he so unbelievingly charming. Even after a day of meandering in the same clothes, he still made an impression of impeccable, and when his eyes met Y/N’s irresolute gaze, he smiled at her softly. Something flittered in Y/N’s stomach, and she only hoped that it was that sketchily-looking croissant that she had eaten.  

“Hey,” he spoke in a stoic manner, simultaneously gesturing at the chair next to him. “Take a seat.”

And so she did; from that distance she could smell the scent of his cologne – cedarwood mixed with an enticing trace of bourbon. Damn him.  

“Huh, so shall we start?” he asked as Y/N’s eyes were transfixed on his face. “Or will you just keep staring?”  

At once, Y/N tore her gaze away from his face, a blush blotching her cheeks; she felt positively mortified, warmth venturing from the chest to the nape of her neck. Well, it will take her some time to recover from that... “Yeah,” she laughed out, breathlessly. “Sorry.”  

He merely shook his head, then plucked the course book from his satchel, and dragged it between the two of them. Without further ado, he commenced explaining the topic to her (“Pepperup Potion is quite a facile topic” Yeah, no shit, Flamel) in his calming voice, tracing his finger over the ingredients and elucidating their cruciality in finalization of the potion.  

And while he was explaining all of that, composed and unbothered as if it were his daily lark, Y/N was on the other side of the spectrum – never had her body undergone something like that: her brain muddled, thoughts garbled, heart doing cartwheels whenever she looked up at Mattheo. She even noticed those little things about him, like the way his fingers smoothly flipped the pages, the way he pursed his lips whenever he was deeply immersed in his thoughts, or even that he had this sweet, little habit of raking his fingers through his hair.  

Y/N, at the same time, absolutely detested herself for having those thoughts – superficial, distractive, unnecessary, delusory, egregious, and...

She was staring again and, from the peripheries of his vision, Mattheo had noted that because he was eyeing her again in the matter of seconds, clearly saying something but Y/N couldn’t string those words together. Only after a couple of seconds did she parse what he had asked.  

“Yes, I’m fine...” she answered, swallowing the pit in her throat. Then, she inspected her watch – 7.47 -- and decided that it was a high time for them to bestir. “I’m just feeling... tired. Maybe we should get going, you know.”  

Mattheo eyed her for a few more jiffs before finally nodding. Y/N had a dim impression that something in terms of acrimony flashed across his face for a split moment, but that was quickly gone, and he was already shoving his belongings into the satchel.  

Once they were out in the corridor, Y/N started: “Thank you for your help, you know. That means a lot.” She thought it a good idea to pass over her gratitude by touching his shoulder but boy was she wrong. The reaction was immediate: Mattheo stiffened under her touch and, like a scalded cat, took a stride backward; his breath hitched and even in a dull lighting as it was, she could discern how his pupils dilated; he raked his hand over his hair like he had done before.  

Y/N froze, halting just as he had. Not sure what else to do, because she hadn’t done anything wrong really, she simply waited how this debacle was going to progress; she could have anticipated many things -- him throwing cusses at her, him laughing the entire situation off, even him casting curses at her. What she hadn’t expected, however, was Mattheo suddenly rushing in a different direction than the Common Room and leaving her lingering in the spot, not able to process rapidity of the shebang.  

Maybe she should have felt contrite at the moment, maybe she should have given up, and simply informed her friends that the plan clearly hadn’t worked out, and that Mattheo was a prick, leaving her hanging like some kind of scum in the middle of the corridor. But she would be lying to herself then and poorly attempting to talk herself into believing that she didn’t care.  

Yet she did, that’s why Y/N suddenly felt like the blood was curdling within her. Without administering that the words were spewing out of her mouth, she was already shouting after him:

“What’s your problem?” Mattheo stopped in his track, not turning around nor snorting at her, but simply standing still. He was waiting for her to continue. “Every time we are supposed to hang out with each other, every time I try to initiate the conversation with you, every time I smile and you ignore me, every time... I try so hard to be nice to you, try to act... civil, at least in front of our friends. But you always bring me down.” She didn’t even fathom how she had come up to him, but here she was – standing in front of Mattheo Riddle and cannoning the grudges that she had been keeping for years at him. It felt so... emancipating. “Even that one time when I cooked the brownies for Christmas, especially for you, and later you gave them away to Blaise. You know how humiliated I felt? That I spent time doing something for you, and you... so carelessly dismissed that? And, and... by the way, how much of the psychopath do you have to be as not to like brownies, on Merlin’s Beard!”  

Her voice sounded so reedy in her ears, but she knew that she was just poorly trying to outshout the quiver in her voice or the prickling tears in her eyes. When a tear tumbled down her cheek, not wanting to unveil any accompanying emotions, she angrily wiped it away with a sleeve. Her gaze travelled downwards because she felt more waterworks coming about.  

“I realize that you might hate me bu-”

“I don’t,” interjected Mattheo. For the first time, he shifted in his spot and when Y/N scrutinized his countenance, his lines had a note of desperation in them, earnestness that clearly stressed the truthfulness of his words. “I don’t hate you.”

“You don’t have to lie, Mattheo, I-”

“I don’t hate you,” he retaliated, sounding stern. And angry, in a way? Y/N must have misheard.    

“Listen, Mattheo, I appreciate you trying to patch things up, but there’s no poin-”

But her sentence spiralled into the distant corners of the corridor, and Y/N piped down as Mattheo took a step closer, curtailing the distance between the two. Y/N cast her face downwards under Mattheo’s intense stare, but his hand travelled to her chin, forcing her to look at him once more. His thumb swiped over her cheek where the tear stain was, and it seemed like he was contemplating her dejection with a sour expression. For a moment, Y/N could swear that the air in her lungs disappeared altogether, and she just kept waiting for his next move, her eyes turned into the deer-in-the-headlights expression.  

With the intent look, he bent over her, Y/N’s nostrils catching the scent of his cologne yet again, and he was leaning over to her ear. One of his hands moved over to her arm, clutching it lightly as if she was the most exquisite dainty porcelain set, and his mouth was just centimetres away from her earlobe. Y/N’s body went entirely rigid.  

“I. Don’t. Hate. You,” he spelled out every syllable of his sentence, gravely, gutturally, slowly.  

Something clicked in Y/N. No longer was she standing there spellbound, but maybe because of his intoxicating scent, maybe because of the intensity with which he had uttered his words, she was tugging him by his collar with both of her hands. She normally, a brief thought crossed her mind, wouldn’t have enough nerve to do something like that, but she kissed him -- her desperate, parched mouth travelled onto his.  

For a moment, she asked herself if maybe she might be out of her mind for doing that or if Mattheo felt the same way she had this morning, or if he had ever considered her as more then... well, whatever they were. She soon found out the answer, however, because his lips momentarily detached themselves from her skin, and he was scanning her face with dilated pupils.  

Instantly, Y/N pulled away and put her hands on the level with her head in the defensive mode like a child who had been caught red-handed while sneaking out the chocolate bars. The air was sucked out of her.  

“I’m so, so sor-”  

“It’s not the way I envisaged that...” His voice sounded positively berserk, feral even. Her hands pending mid-air, Mattheo drew them back to their previous place. In the middle of that maelstrom, Mattheo capitalized Y/N’s confusion by placing his hands on her lower back, flipped her so that now her body was positioned against the wall, moulded against him.  

“And how have you envisaged that, exactly?” she muttered, her voice barely audible. She blinked a couple of times, disorientated, observing as a smirk curved on Mattheo’s lips.  

“Let me show you how...”  

His lips smashed against hers, and Y/N was happy to note that her feelings were requited after all. At first it started off gentle, but that quickly morphed into this voracious battle for dominance. They were devouring into each other's taste (Mattheo’s peppermint toothpaste), and he slid his tongue over her bottom lip, silently soliciting her for deepening the kiss.

She permitted, of course she did, parting her lips ever so widely, deliberating that if she ever were to die, that’s probably the only way she would have accepted the Grim Reaper in her warm, hospitable embrace. Much to her surprise, Mattheo took her by both of her wrists, pinned them above her head while his other hand was caressing the skin underneath her shirt.  

His kisses were so fierce and zealous, Y/N couldn’t help it but feel the sudden yearning to be as close to him as possible; she draped one of her legs around his lower waist, aligning his body with hers as if they were the unity. It felt like they belonged together the whole life, just like yin and yang, and it was so ludicrous that they hadn’t realized that before.  

His tongue flicked over her lips a couple more times, making the want pool around her abdomen, before he finally dipped lower and lower, reaching her neck and planting the sloppy kisses on it. It was as if though he couldn’t get enough of her taste, so ardent in his actions he was, and when he finally discovered the weak spot on her neck, he started sucking on it ever so roughly. Not quite able to quell it, she let out a small moan which apparently must have worked marvels on Mattheo because Y/N could suddenly sense the bulge of erection ramming against her thigh.  

She was torn. From one side, she wanted to do this so badly, the knot in her lower parts specifically betrayed that, but she knew that it would be so wrong and thorny if they elevated that to another level.  

Yet, it was so hard to focus with Mattheo’s lips leeched to her neck, signaturing her skin in the most conspicuous way.  

“Don’t... you think... that we sho...uld talk this over... first?” Y/N rasped out with an evident difficulty.  

“What’s there to talk about?” he muttered in between the kisses, his hand still circling on Y/N’s belly and dangerously nearing to her bra. “I’ve wanted this since forever. And clearly, so did you.”  

Y/N released an amused, hoarse chuckle but that silenced her only for a few seconds before she finally deciphered his words. Particularly, the one resonated in her mind: forever. A paroxysm of joy sprung up in her.  

“So, you felt like that for a long time?”  

Mattheo, apparently cognizing that Y/N wasn’t going to relinquish the topic easily, halted. He withdrew both of his hands, instead placing them on each side of the wall where Y/N was residing. His chest was still moving rapidly, hair rumpled, and pupils almost entirely replacing the irises of his eyes. As Y/N examined him briefly, she thought she must be out of her mind for ceasing their make-out in the first place.  

Too late for reversion, anyways.  

After a few inhales, he finally started: “Well, haven’t you noticed? This entire time, that I-” With a small gloss of hesitation, he looked her in the eyes, assiduously. “I have been crazy about you. For so long. I don’t even remember how it feels to be sane, because whenever I’m around you I just... want to grab you and kiss you senseless.”  

Y/N balked. Things got another notch inexplicable, and Y/N wasn’t sure anymore if she was dreaming and perhaps was stuck in a different universe where cats were the heads of the Ministry, Pansy was Gryffindor, and Mattheo was besotted with her. That would be more possible, from all Y/N could think of.  

“Really?” A blush suffused her cheeks. “I thought you hated me! All those signs – always avoiding me, never talking to me... This didn’t necessarily appear to me as... what you just said.”  

“Listen.” His palm covered hers and he squeezed it lightly a couple of times. “All of that was just a game. I didn’t want to weird you out nor did I know if you reciprocated my feelings. That’s why I tried to... avoid you, if you will.” He stopped for a moment, just staring Y/N, enchanted, as if there was nothing else in the world, both of them captured in slow-motion where nothing else around them mattered. The silence between them was only raptured by their quick breathing and the hammering in their chests. “In truth, the way you... move and talk, it’s all driving me mad. Fuck! I want to be with you, be able to kiss you whenever I desire, want to touch you and be there for you whenever you feel down... Y/N, I want to do so many things with you, and you don’t even know that. But how could you, right?”  

As if pained, he closed his eyes with a microscopic grimace and he licked his lips, as if reminiscing the tastes of her on his skin. With guilt flaring up, Y/N cupped his cheek in her palm and stroked over it again and again. He seemed to be enjoying that as he leaned into her touch, his frayed nerves somewhat tranquilized.  

“You know, I like you too,” Y/N said, and before Mattheo was able to protest as he opened his mouth with the clear intention of doing so, Y/N proceeded: “I really do! It was just that... I was trying to tell myself otherwise because I wasn’t sure of how you would react. And when you waltzed into the Great Hall today, looking like that, I realized that... I’ve been lying to myself. And- and are you mad?”  

He furrowed. “Mad? What for?”  

“For screaming at you earlier.” Y/N pursed her lips.  

Gently smiling, he smooched her lips shortly, and Y/N fleetingly missed the heat of his body on hers. “No, I was a dick.” Another smooch. “Although, I would specifically like to highlight that I didn’t give these cookies away to Blaise. He stole them.”  

With poorly faked disapprobation, she shook her head but soon enough, a grin adorned her features. “That shithead.”  

Mattheo chuckled and he was about to kiss Y/N again when...  

“There you two are, I was looking all over for you two and--” Pansy prowled from around the corner, clearly with annoyance painted on her face but when she discerned the view right in front of her, with Y/N positioned against Mattheo, she smirked. “Well, well... Y/N, I told you to sneak him into the Common Room, not to woo him.” Y/N palm-faced herself but Pansy, not taking on the social hints, continued: “But have it your way, I guess...”

“Pansy, I think we would like to be left alone for now and if you could-”  

“No,” Pansy interposed, folding her arms together. “It’s your birthday party, Mattheo! It was supposed to be a surprise, but someone...” She leered at Y/N with a pointed look. “...clearly can’t control themselves and restrain her animalistic instincts, irrespective of the plan that her other friends set up.”

“In her defence--”  

“And I’m not going to be a shitty friend who forgets about her best friend’s birthday! So, collect yourself a little and schedule bumping uglies on a different time.” With that, the pitter-patter of her stilettos faded away, while both Mattheo and Y/N stood stunned in their spot.  

“That’s not how I planned it,” Y/N explained quickly. “Especially the “bumping uglies” part.”  

Mattheo chuckled with hilarity sparkling in his eyes. “I know.”

“And I’m sorry about your birthday, we were supposed to act like we have forgo-”  

“Doesn’t matter.” Mattheo smiled finally at her, covering her mouth with his. “It’s still the best birthday I have ever had.”  

[gyuaesp]

i’ll always look out for you.

pairing: bf!mingyu x gf!reader

wc: 1,026

genres: romance (finally), angst, established relationship, reader is celebrating birthday, not extremely proofread, mingyu helping you through your emotions.

warnings: mentions of family issues (not in full detail), reader has a breakdown.

a/n: okkkk so this is like finally a writing that doesn’t include sad, heartbreaking, gut wrenching love… this one is a bit longer than my usual writes but i hope i did well on this one huhu :’))

it was your birthday. the day you (kind of) dreaded but was looking forward to.

instead of rotting inside your bedroom with an ice cream cake and a glass of champagne, you’ve decided that this year you’re going to be spending it with the people you love most. ever since you (finally) made it official with mingyu, you suddenly had a new perspective on life.

you didn’t care about the wrinkles, nor the gray hairs that might appear once in a while. getting old is a natural human phenomenon, it happens to everyone.

you invited a couple people over, not wanting it to be something huge and awkward. of course mingyu was the first one to arrive, helping you put up decorations with small kisses every minute or so.

he was a bit hypnotized by the outfit you were wearing. small apologies come out of his mouth every time you catch him staring like a creep, but what’s not to love about that? you have this man wrapped around your finger. the kim mingyu can’t help but drool at your beauty.

your friends came later than expected. a decent guest list consisting of joshua, seungkwan, chan, and soonyoung. you were distracted with karaoke while mingyu stayed back preparing your cake. he took glances at you singing duets with the others, chuckling softly at your performance.

you got quite tired out, trailing off into the cupboard for a water break. the glass in your hand getting set down on the island as you stood next to mingyu. “what’re you doing?”

he exhaled, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. “just taking out the cake,” he spoke, giving you a peck on the cheek as his arm wrapped around your waist. “it looks okay, right?” mingyu’s eyes peeked back at the baked good hoping to hear a positive response.

“it looks perfect, baby. what do you mean!” you looked up at him with a reassuring smile. mingyu couldn’t help but give you his fanged grin at your reaction.

as his lips were leaning in for a connection, you heard a series of knocks on your apartment door. mingyu’s gaze moved to the entrance with slight confusion. “did you invite someone else?”

you scanned the living room, counting out the correct number of guests. “i don’t think so,” your voice replied. “i’ll be back.”

“careful,” he called out as you left for the door.

cautiously, you walk towards the threshold.“who’s there?” you speak out of the small opening you made.

suddenly, your breath hitched at the realization.

it was your mother. the woman you purposely took out of your life for making you feel miserable at home. the real reason why you moved out and decided to make yourself a new beginning.

“there’s my pretty lady!” she pushed the door open, dropping her bag and putting her hands on your shoulders.

you could see through her fake persona. the memories you thought you had gotten rid of crashing back into your mind like a tsunami. how the feel of her presence in the room made you tense up. the stench of her perfume bringing back the pain you supposedly healed from.

you could hear the others whispering as seungkwan paused the music. sound waves slowly becoming muffled as mingyu quickly went up to see the situation.

you could see his mouth moving as he spoke with your mother, but you couldn’t hear anything. a wave of emotions enter your body as you speed walk to your bedroom, unable to face her for any longer without breaking down.

it feels like you were brought back to square one.

your optimism fading off as you curled up in your closet. the place where you shed all your tears in the past. the enclosed room making you feel at peace once again as your heart tried to calm itself down.

your hands, feeling your pulse and constantly massaging your neck. small hyperventilations coming out your mouth as you looked around, listing out things in your closet to not freak out.

you could hear the incomprehensible noise of mingyu trying to talk things out with your mother monster from outside.

well, that was until he burst into your room when everything quieted down.

mingyu slowly peeked inside after a couple minutes of searching.

“____?” he calls out quietly, seeing your face buried in your knees. the sound of your sobs being the only thing audible in the area.

he moved towards you, kneeling in front of you. “baby, look at me,” his hand patted your knee. your gaze went to his, eyes glossy with tears. small sniffs coming out as your breathing slowed down at the sight of mingyu. “come on, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you like this.”

you moved into a proper sitting position to get some fresh air. he patted his lap for you to lay your head, allowing you to rest a bit. both of you sat in silence as he gently dried your face with his shirt, now stained with tears but he didn’t care. “stop your tears. i took care of it, alright? don’t be sad over a small inconvenience.”

you sniffed a bit, gathering your words before speaking. “i don’t understand why she had to ruin my day like this.”

“she didn’t ruin it,” mingyu quickly replied. “you just think that because you’re afraid, honey.” he set a soft kiss on your forehead before his fingers started to massage your temples.

“listen to me,” his hands cupped your cheeks. “she might’ve done things to you in the past, but you will grow. you’ll grow to become the woman your mother couldn’t.”

“i can’t even look at her without freezing up, mingyu-”

“just trust me,” his words cut you off. “i’ve seen what you’ve achieved in life and i believe you can do this too.”

you two sat in silence as you savored his words. “i hate how you always give the best advice.”

“that’s why i’m perfect for you, hun.” mingyu gives you a gentle kiss, taking away the rest of your sadness.

“now go blow your nose. let’s celebrate what’s really important.”

[entertext]

HGSN 27-2

Chapter (Japanese)

(Please hit the green thumbs up at the end of the Japanese chapter to show support)

Rough translation by me

P1

Tanaka: There's no such thing as "Nounuki-sama"

Tanaka: The Indou family's ritual has no particular meaning either. Even without something like that, if they'd just left you alone, you would still be on the mountain

Tanaka: That's why the village became peaceful after the mass deaths. You gathered all the impurities on the mountain.

Hikaru, Yoshiki: ....

Hikaru: Then why won't it do any good if I go back to the mountain?

P2

Tanaka: You're nothing compared to what you were back then

Tanaka: You can't go back to being "Nounuki-sama" anymore

Tanaka: Besides, if you've made yourself that weak

Tanaka: there's really no way you could fully take in that huge mass of impurities, is there?

Yoshiki: ...hey, what are you after?

Yoshiki: Cutting off 'Hikaru's head...!! What the hell do you want to do to us...!

P3

Tanaka: I'm not going to do anything

Tanaka: After all, you'll self-destruct on your own sooner or later, won't you?

Yoshiki: "Self-destruct"?...

Tanaka: From where I stand, I really have to hand it to you. An untouchable, invincible being gains an ego and weakens itself.

Tanaka: If something can't be defeated, then let it destroy itself on its own

P4

Yoshiki: "Destroy itself"? There's no way... that something like that...

(Hikaru: I'm going to go back to the mountain)

Yoshiki: ...

Tanaka: My goal is to not let the company use you

Tanaka: So this is all very convenient for me

Tanaka: But before that happens, there's something I'd like you to do

Tanaka: There's a folktale in Kubitachi called "The Farmer's Head" right?

Hikaru: Yeah

P5

Tanaka: A farmer's head falls into a hole on the mountain and a feast is granted in exchange...

Tanaka: Presumably, the real story is that one killed the other and stole their possessions or something, but it's likely that the part about the head disappearing is true.

Yoshiki: (Oh that's right, in the hall...)

(Kouhei: The offered head disappears on the spot

Kouhei: That's why we have carved replacement heads in order to hold funeral services for them in this hall)

Tanaka: Why did a commonplace folk belief like "Unuki-san"

Tanaka: morph into "Nounuki-sama", a violent cult making offerings of severed heads?

Tanaka: Because there actually was a phenomenon where heads disappeared

P6

Tanaka: Even if their wishes went unanswered, that enigma formed the basis for the villagers' belief in their god.

Tanaka: As for why the heads disappeared

Tanaka: I've looked into it

Tanaka: It's because there's a hole

Tanaka: An invisible hole that the villagers have spent so many years offering heads to.

P7

Tanaka: It's likely that's the reason for this region's high number of impurities since ancient times

Tanaka: The hole connects to the other world and brings impurities through it to this side

Hikaru: A hole...

Tanaka: While you were on the mountain, its effects were kept under control, but it's continued to grow in size

Tanaka: At this rate, it'll cause a disaster any time now.

Tanaka: So I'd really like to get that thing closed somehow.

Hikaru: If it's closed, the disaster will be averted?

Tanaka: Pretty much. Whether it's possible is another story though.

P8

Tanaka: If you're going to destroy yourself either way,

Tanaka: Why don't you help me close that hole?

Yoshiki: N-...No way

Yoshiki: We can't trust anything someone like you says. After what you did to 'Hikaru' ...

Tanaka: I see you really care about 'Hikaru'-kun

Yoshiki: ...

P9

Tanaka: But that's a monster in Indou Hikaru's corpse

Tanaka: I wonder if it's really okay for you to keep clinging to Hikaru for so long.

Tanaka: Wouldn't it be better to let go?

Yoshiki: ...He isn't some phantom that appeared in order for me to get over Hikaru's death

Yoshiki: He has his own personality and desires...

P10

Tanaka: So he's simply a different individual, you say

Tanaka: Then why would you go so far

Tanaka: for such a complete stranger?

Yoshiki: ...... ......

Yoshiki: Wh-

Yoshiki: -y

Yoshiki: ...

==

Next chapter: 05/28 (next week)

Twitter Extra: (link)

Extra 2 (link):

Hikaru Doll → Take out the cotton stuffing → Pack in some unknown thing → ?? Doll

[homesickn]

My Heart

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Far away from your home on Earth.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks as he catches you staring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

★

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He continues.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hesitantly accept the call, feeling curious.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you, I'm packing my things.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why do you wanna know my name?” 

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

“...What?”

“I wanna know who I'm talking to.”

“That's not what you said.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone rings.

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

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

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

“Please…don't hurt me…”

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

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

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

“What?! No…” You cry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You feel his gloved hands caress your arms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What? W-what do you mean by that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cry like a little kid.

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

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

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

He's the one that hangs up this time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He kisses you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything but the sensual way he was touching you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you don't.”

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

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

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

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

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

He coos you into his arms, embracing your form.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What will happen now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It gives you the chills.

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

“My love, my heart, it's over now.”

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

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

Your heart froze, of course. There were additionals.

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

You clear your throat to say.

“Yes.”

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

Taglist: @mischief2sarawr @dangertoozmanykids101

[indigovigilance]

Why Crowley Rescues Aziraphale

Okay, yes: it's flirtatious, it's cute, it's Anthony J. "Acts of Service" Crowley showing love in the only way he knows how because God forbid he use his words.

But what if there's more to it than that? What if there is a much darker explanation that portends major events in S3?

Allow me to convince you below the cut:

Evidence of Repetition Compulsion

But before we talk about the rescue motif, let's examine a more transparent aspect of Crowley's behavior that will provide a scaffold for the discussion of his Princess Peach obsession.

The Plants

Sure, Crowley is a hobby horticulturalist, but he doesn't do it because he loves plants. He does it because the plants are a representation of himself, and how he treats the plants tells us how he feels about himself. Importantly, how he treats the plants changes over time.

Season 1

He puts the fear of Crowley into them, destroying any specimen with a blemish and making an example out of it to threaten those that remain.

You know, just like God did to him.

This scene is jam-packed with symbolism, and we can simmer on whether his punishment of the plants is simply externalized self-flagellation, or reflects internalized standards of perfectionism, or if he feels so powerless that he creates a new relationship in which he is the one that has the power... We could simmer, but that's not the point of this meta, so let's keep going.

Season 2

In 2023, Crowley is no longer a domineering monarch, ruling over his houseplants with an iron fist; of all the memorabilia he has in his flat (the statue from the church, the original Mona Lisa), the only things he brings with him are his plants.

And for someone living in his car, he's taking pretty good care of them:

Someone else even noted that one of the plants appears to have spots, and clearly he hasn't thrown it in the garbage disposal for its transgressions. I wasn't able to see it myself, but I headcanon it because it fits with the observation that:

Crowley's attitude towards himself is changing.

He is evolving from internalized guilt and sense of inferiority to believing that he deserves care, even if he is a little blemished. It is this shift that brings it within the realm of possibility that he can admit his feelings to Aziraphale.

In both seasons, the unifying theme is that Crowley is reliving his trauma over and over, and then reliving his healing over and over. This cyclical behavior is, to my knowledge, incredibly characteristic of PTSD and CPTSD. In a phenomenon clinically referred to as Repetition Compulsion, the subject recreates and relives events of a traumatic past over and over in their present life, seeking resolution for something that has already happened, where the opportunity for true, satisfying closure is forever lost to the past. A huge part of therapeutic treatment is breaking these maladaptive cycles [citations]. But to our knowledge, Crowley doesn't have a therapist.

If this is how Crowley's CPTSD manifests in his relationship with inanimate objects semi-sentient dependents, how might it manifest in his relationship with his angel?

The Rescue Motif

The cycle of Aziraphale's self-endangerment and Crowley's nick-of-time rescues might look like just a cute part of their flirtationship, a necessary cover for their continued association, but I argue that it something much darker.

Crowley rescues Aziraphale over and over throughout history to try to absolve himself for the one time he couldn't.

But clearly, Aziraphale doesn't know that.

It only took one rescue for Aziraphale to realize that this kind of behavior brings them closer together - and he desperately wants to get close to Crowley. Please forgive the crudeness of the metaphor, but: when you need to drive a screw into a board and all you have is a hammer, you're gonna smack that thing on the head over and over with the only tool you've got. The problem is, this is really bad for the screw.

Aziraphale, by leveraging the damsel-in-distress motif, over and over again, is inadvertently triggering a trauma response from Crowley because he likes what he gets out of it, which is spending time with the demon he loves and growing intimacy. If he knew that this is what he was doing, it would be sick and twisted and go against everything he believes about himself as an angel, let alone being mortified that he was hurting Crowley.

So the only possible conclusion (given we take the above conjectures as fact (see @queerfables, I listen to you <3)) is that:

Aziraphale Doesn't Know About His Own Jimmification

What is it that Crowley could have failed to rescue Aziraphale from that Aziraphale himself is unaware of? Well, at the least, it would have to involve a mind-wipe.

We know, canonically, that the Metatron can and will mind-wipe angels without actually casting them out of Heaven. Just because Aziraphale is an angel does not mean we can assume that this ability was never leveraged against him.

If Crowley knew that they were going to do this to his friend, he would have tried to stop it. The repeating damsel-rescue motif (in context of the existing, plant-based evidence of Repetition Compulsion) is a strong indicator that his mission to protect Aziraphale from the memory-wipe failed, and he is living in an endless loop of rescue behavior to try to resolve his guilt about that.

So why wouldn't Crowley tell Aziraphale that his mind was erased?

To properly address that I will need time to write a part 2. But others are welcome to use this as a jumping-off point, please just cite the inspo; it's a little thing that brings me joy ^_^

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the meantime, if you enjoyed this, you may also like:

Why Crowley is Blind to his Yellow Eyes

A Nightingale Sang in 1941

Baraqiel and Azazel

The Erasure of Human!Metatron

[goodolddumbbanana]

[Molten/Sun] Honeytrap duo. [Bad End Au] [1]

Summary: [Bad End Au] What would happen if the Creator not only captured Molten, but also captured Sun? It was easy to reprogram Molten, and his unruly eldest son was no less compliant after a while when they were left alone with their own heads. Sun's personality chip has also been damaged quite a bit, but Creator doesn't complain, if that makes Sun more obedient and insistent on listening to Creator like the good son he should be.

This is a relatively distant future, where Dark Sun betrayed Nexus and threw Nexus to Sun as a kind of test to see if Nexus' presence would ruin the Creator's plans or not. (---- Spoiler: It does.)

***

It would be a lie to say Nexus didn't expect to be stabbed in the back like that.

He's not stupid. Nexus knows that Dark Sun has been playing him like a cricket from the beginning, and the fact that they have a fairly stable alliance to this day is because they both have something they both want from the other.

He just doesn't care, especially when he has so many shiny toys to play with. But it seemed that at the end of the day, Nexus himself went too far, and this 'Sun' couldn't stand him anymore and kicked him out. Nexus chuckled in pain, trying to control the negative star energy that was leaking out of him uncontrollably like a broken water valve, falling to the ground full of gravel and sand.

“I told you, right? Don't let things go too far, don't let anything trace back here. Don't mess with the astral bodies yet. But you didn't listen to me. Again and again.” Dark Sun pondered, staring at him blandly like he was some kind of investment that even though he knew it would fail, he still tried to invest money in it out of curiosity, only to leave a huge capital hole that couldn’t pay it off?

“Like every other Moon, you have to try to let your ego get in the way—”

“I'm not Moon. I am Nexus!” Nexus gritted out every word. The gloomy light in the laboratory became dim, proving that time in this dimension built with Dark Matters was about to run out. Darkness fell on Dark Sun's shoulder, a soft sigh filled the quiet cramped space.

Dark Sun's head tilted to one side, he asked calmly.

“So Nexus, what do you plan to do now? With the way astral bodies seem to be about to discover this place and aim to deal with you?”

“We move. And find another empty dimension. It's that simple.” Nexus waved his hand, he turned away and continued to look at the pile of Wither shards flickering in the glass cage, ignoring the presence of Dark Sun. The lonely white color in each tile somehow still makes Nexus feel dirty and grumpy, and a feeling of excitement still runs along each wire of Nexus like a beast wanting to escape and find someone to let it burn out.

“I think you're missing the point here, Nexus.” Dark Sun stated it slowly, as if trying to explain to a toddler. “Those astral bodies, it's not something that's easy for you to engage with and just ignore them like nothing happened. Even I can't say I can protect you if you keep pulling something like that.”

“Then don't.”

"I'm sorry?" Dark Sun adjusted his glasses, a simple red light flashed as if he was truly curious about what Nexus was saying.

“I said, then don't. I said it from the beginning, right? I don't care.‌ They want to come, so let them come. I can destroy all those worms easily if I want. They are no match for me.” He smirked, he was so tired of not doing this, not being able to do that. It was no different from being at home, no different from being controlled and manipulated once again like a freaking puppet.

“Nexus—”

"Don’t you dare to speak with me like that! I am God now!! Don't you dare underestimate me! Or do you also want to try a little of this kind of power?” Nexus's red eyes flashed with challenge, his hand forming a dark purple-black sphere, thick with death. The wavelengths emitted from the sphere stir up everything around, gradually scattering fine dust particles like a disintegration phenomenon. Papers flew everywhere, even the broken crystals vibrated, resonating with the power of the Nexus.

“I'm just a little worried about you.” Dark Sun said apprehensively, with a tone that completely made Nexus laugh.

"Worry?! Hah!!? Don't make me laugh! I'm here because you need me to research those Wither shards! Don't think I don't know that you went behind my back and colluded with Moon and Solar to try to bring me down.”

Nexus said the two people's names with pure venom. The former disgusted him so much that he wanted to keep them alive to make their life worse than death. The latter gave him a familiar haunting feeling of almost burning guilt, there was also bitterness and jealousy hatred running down his spine when he saw the other immediately clinging to any Moon that offered him comfort. trust.

The threat was clear in the air. Nexus could confidently say that he was the stronger of the two, that now it was Nexus who would be in control. And if Dark Sun wanted to end this meaningless alliance, he would be willing to do so, right now, right here, without any regret.

In the destruction and chaos created in the name of Nexus, Dark Sun still stays blandly. Rather than that, they look like they have been accepted.

“Forgive my words, Nexus.” The purple color in Nexus's hand was retracted by Dark Sun's almost compliant bow. “It's just, you forgot one thing…”

“And what is that?” Nexus raised an eyebrow. He was quite curious to see what Dark Sun had up his sleeve, as this 'Sun' never revealed any valuable information from himself.

“You are not irreplaceable.”

And suddenly, he couldn't move. Nexus didn't know what the hell Dark Sun had done, but even the negative stellar energy he was trying to tap into right now was completely empty and unusable.

“So you're going to kill me now?” Nexus smiled fiercely, his red eyes staring at Dark Sun, as if wanting to pin that image into his mind, so that if he survived, he would find some horrific way to imprint it on that face. To remind it no one, absolutely no one allows messing around with Nexus.

"No." Dark Sun's hand touched the back of his head, "Killing you really dirty my hands, and I don't think you're valuable enough for me to do it myself."

There was a very faint clicking sound like something was being inserted.

“Hah… So what do you do then?‌ Are you going to throw me back with Moon and Sun and Solar and Lunar so those pathetic worms can kill me themselves? Let me guess, what you put inside me is something that makes me comply, right? Be a good boy for them to dissect like a sheep? You are more pathetic than I thought.” Nexus chuckled, his red eyes flashing with madness. He inevitably couldn't move, because otherwise, that golden head full of rays would be torn off one by one by him like the petals of a chrysanthemum.

‘His other one’ is very sensitive to pain. It made Nexus curious, if he broke that arm, would it make Dark Sun scream?

“I thought so too. Hand you over to Moon, let them deal with you, maybe try to save you. Destroy you. Or hand you over to the Astral Bodies, so you can suffer the punishment you deserve for your stubbornness.” Dark Sun hummed. “But… then, there is someone who wants that honor more. And who am I to refuse a request from a friend?”

“What do you mean?”‌ Nexus narrowed his eyes. Dark Sun has no friends. They were the ones who always claimed they didn't care about anything beyond the eternal vacation of their own vague plans, and suddenly wanted Nexus to believe that there was something or someone for Dark Sun to care about?

Bullshit.

“Yeah, yeah… You might not believe what I said.” Dark Sun took his time, another latching sound rang out after the wires were put back in place. Dark Sun's slow patience, if it weren't for the negative stellar energy that had burned out his sensory system, Nexus was sure he would be going crazy from pain right now. “But it's true, and believe me, you'll soon know who it is. Don't want to spoil the surprise, am I right?

“You should wish I was dead, 'Sun'.” Nexus growls quietly. “Because I'll be glad to split your chest in half when I get back.” The purple vortex appeared before him, just waiting for him to enter, flashing in his eyes like some kind of destiny.

“Haha— Your way of talking always makes me laugh, Nexus. Good threat though. Anyway, tah-tah, Nexus.” Pain shot through Nexus's circuit board, causing him to let out a long scream. Darkness erupted in front of him, blurring his vision to a purple-red hue. It felt like he had lost gravity, as he fell forever in the air. And suddenly, everything disappeared—

***

“I didn't think this would be what 'Dark Sun' was referring to when he said he was going to send me a surprise.” The slightly high-pitched, familiar yet unfamiliar voice, which Nexus had tried to bury in his subconscious, suddenly echoed in his ears.

The blurry light in front of him was a confused Nexus.‌ His system was filled with interference bands, as if trying to restart the software. The equilateral triangles in his system crowed that something was very wrong and demanded to be fixed, something that unfortunately he didn't care much about except for the annoying thing that it prevented him from knowing where the hell he was? The strong antiseptic smell hit the tip of Nexus's nose. A golden light of saffron appeared in his vision, making him want to almost unsure of who that person was.

“Are you friends with Dark Sun?” That was the first thing Nexus said. The only thing Nexus wants to know. He was so tired of the ridiculous empty taunts like how Eclipse wore it to protect themselves, or the fake politeness of the despicable creature called Ruin. What's the point of caring for others when the naked truth is always to prove the best.

“What? Not at all…” The voice laughed nervously. They didn't show any anger or fear or utter disappointment like the last time they faced him, the voice used to be so tired and empty, a fact that Nexus tried to ignore.

“I mean, I guess we have a few drinking parties sometimes. But does that mean we are friends?”‌ Sun – His Sun, the mean old Sun, the one who always looked at him with the shadow of someone else at their eyes' corner, right now looked so small in this bulky, grimacing laboratory. Sun reached out to tap their chin, looking like he was thinking something nonsense.

It was almost like looking at Dark Sun, with the way Sun held themselves and the so false leisure on their faces. Similar but different.

A strange, bitter feeling arose in Nexus's internal organs. The voice in my head that had been asleep for a long time suddenly woke up and screamed. His instincts continuously arose in his racing thoughts, making him unable to help but cringe.

There's something very wrong about Sun—

If Sun's eyes, the most obvious to recognize, which were originally a pure pearl color, one side had turned a toxic pinkish purple, a color too similar to the fragments of the Wither Storm. Then It was a small collar that hugged Sun's neck and wrists so tightly, with smooth black metal lines that almost looked like a dog collar, but also resembled shackles.

“Ah— How awkward…” Sun almost hissed, rambling pathetically. “I haven't prepared what I should say, if I see you again.”

“Or when I will see you again.” Sun added, stuttering. “I don't think Dark Sun really threw you away like a bag of trash like this. Haha… I'm just kidding… "

There was something in that voice that made the anger at Nexus' earlier betrayal suddenly flare up again. The crying voice in Nexus's head screamed, causing his entire body to erupt in pain. He hates this person, he loathes this person so much. The person who doesn't even have any merit, only knows how to cling on to others to do their bidding. 

'You've always been so good at making me feel miserable just by existing.'

Nexus glared at the saffron-colored animatronic, the ominously happy expression on the face of the man who was once his brother made his stomach churn a little. It almost made him want to rush and tear that person's faceplate in half as the overwhelming feeling of anger overwhelmed him.

As if changing without changing at all, they were again on both sides of the rig, with Nexus locked in a cage and Sun standing tall and noble outside.

“What is the meaning of this? Did you come here to gloat? Destroy me? Or have you come here to 'save' me again? Where is your dear brother who let you do this secretly?” 

Nexus sneered. The glasses he was wearing on his head had fallen off somewhere, making Nexus feel extremely naked. He did not know how Sun had a connection to Dark Sun, nor the absence of both Moon and Solar. Surely, they wouldn't let their poor Sunny face the evil Nexus, right?

Speaking of which, how long has it been since he saw Sun? Nexus has attacked Solar, almost killing Moon. He also made Lunar's power seem like child's play, and made Earth watch as he cut the damn crocodile in half. At first he just thought that this coward was hiding somewhere and couldn't bear to see him.

But it seems Nexus's perceived was wrong.

Sun from the beginning has always been here.

And like him, Sun also changed something.

Sun looked confused by his continuous attacks. His pink eyes(?) looked at Nexus vaguely before giggling.

“Oh God, no. Why should I do that?”

“What?”

“I mean, isn't this who you chose to be? I mean you can choose a different name, but if you want to be a completely different person and create an individual identity for yourself, who am I to stop you?”

Sun's voice is still purely a happy tone. There was a mischievous light glinting in those lavender eyes, a vibrancy Nexus had only seen in the early episodes of both Sun and Moon.

“Even though it's true you stabbed me with your promise and the way you used to be.” Sun shrugged. “But it's okay. I'm just going to keep you for a while to cool you down.‌ Then I'll send you back to Moon and Solar. Those two are so worried. I mean, they were pretty scared you were going to do something terrible and wanted to kill you. And killing people is really not my cup of tea either.” Sun raised his finger and then lowered it in worry. “It's not my job anymore, but I guess I still have some responsibility since we were once brothers, hehe?”

Nexus froze.‌ What was Sun saying?

As if feeling Nexus's gaze, Sun blinked their eyes, their hands waving once more.

“Oh, don't look so shocked. It was you who insisted that I be who you despise.‌ And I know you would rather have Solar to be your brother more than me.”‌ Sun scratched his head in awkwardness.

Ignore what Sun was rambling, Nexus interrupted. 

“What do you mean you don't see Moon and Solar anymore?”

He had never understood the nonsense Sun had said when they were still together, and now it still is the same, especially when what Sun was spitting out now was completely opposite to the Sun he used to know.

“Ah yes… You don't know. Hehe–” Sun laughed nervously, “–well I haven't been with Moon and Solar and Lunar for a long time. I'm with my father now.”

“F–Father? What do you mean?"

This room suddenly became quite cold. Blue was painted on Sun's yellow plastic, turning the animatronic face into something creepy like the wailing ghosts in the horror games they used to play—

“Are you my Sun?!” Nexus narrowed his eyes, because his Sun would never upbeat like this. And there's no way they would be this nonchalant for someone who harmed their family.

“Oh yeah. That's me. But guess I don't care anymore, just like you, Nexus.” Sun said bluntly. The liveliness of Sun's mechanical movements suddenly stopped for a split second, before the dim pink light in that eye lit up once more. The two yellow animatronic hands suddenly clapped together, their shoulders puffed out in a ridiculous pose.

“But we're not talking about me now. What we should discuss is what we should do with you.”

"What? Are you going to kill me too for what I've done? Or do you torture me first.”‌ Nexus sneered. He didn't care too much about his own life or death, other than feeling curious about why the current Sunny boy could be so calm compared to someone who was so used to always frozen in tension like this. It feels like their personality chip has been taken away and reset, and what's left inside the machine is just an empty shell that learns to imitate others.

"Nah~~ It is an immoral thing to do, Nexus. I only do those things during my working time, not during my break time.”‌ Sun shook their heads seriously. “Besides, I promised to find you if you tried to escape, right?”

The words rang in his head. Nexus couldn't help but remember their last conversation in that cage. Suddenly, metallic yellow blocked his vision.

Sun's hands gently helped Nexus stand up and placed him on a soft bed. This inability to move was excruciating, and although he could feel that the movement of his joints had smoothed out somewhat over time, this slowness was intolerable.

“I don't know where to hide you. Creator won't like this…” Sun was mumbling. “-- But don't worry!” Sun's face almost shined, the bracelet replaced the red ribbon, hitting the rattling bell with lively sounds. “Surely among these rooms, there will be a room large enough to lock you up. And believe me when i say, it won't be like the last stuper.‌ I guarantee you it will be much nicer and wider. You can even let the light on.”

“And you'll be there, away from everyone for a while. At least before you cool your bald head enough for Moon and the rest of our family to trust you not to take any more risks.” Sun chuckled.

“And don't try to use Negative Star Power or try to escape. The device that Dark Sun installed in your head not only prevents that, but..." Sun sheepishly rubbed their head and spoke quickly. “–you will go boom.”

“What–?!”

Nexus frowned. Blame it on his system not having finished loading since he got here, but the information Sun gave him was enough to give him a headache. What the hell, did this idiot just intend to bring him back and lock him up forever, as if he were a piece of trash, as if there was something wrong with him? No! He can't end like that! He didn't want it to end like this!!---

As if Sun read his thoughts or he spoke out loud, Sun stared at him, their voice sounded so calm and indifferent, a tone he was so familiar with in Dark Sun was now imprinted on his own Sun.

“Because You are dangerous, Nexus. What you do, what you have done and continue to do so. Because you would hurt my family without remorse, although, it would also be your family, if you weren't such a stubborn idiot.” Sun gently poked Nexus on the head, a very friendly gesture, too careful for one person that intently destroy Sun’s happy life—

“That's not my brother anymore…” Sun's pained voice echoed through the hallway, hitting Nexus's chest with painful blows. An urge made him want to call Sun back, scream that he was sorry, but the stubborn half, the half that he had given up everything for, said that it was better. It would be better if Sun hated him, it would be better if he had no one else to care about.

Because Nexus knew if there was one person who would never give up on him, it would be Sun.

And he hates that. He craves that. He prouds at it.

A mechanical clicking movement was heard from outside as Nexus flinched in surprise. Sun, sure he doesn't care much, but if what Sun said is true then it could be the Creator.‌ And God knows what that old brain would do to him if that bastard knew he was here.

Turns out, Nexus’s guess was wrong. Coming in from the outside, is a shaggy bear with endoskeleton wires stumbling anywhere. Its eyes lit up, a mixture of red-orange and green, staring at the Nexus’s inexistent soul.

"Oh? Is that Moon, Sun?”

“I am Nexus.” Nexus growled loudly. He was so sick of having to correct these mediocrities over and over again. If it weren't for the fact that he was neutralizing it right now, he would definitely blow that idiot's head up to match its monstrous appearance.

“What????? No way!!" Sun's voice almost reached an octave. “You looked wrong Molten, see, there's no one here!! It's just a new… cat I got!!” Sun quickly covered Nexus with a sheet, and even though he could only see very dimly, through the hole in the fabric, he could still see very clearly the way the idiot was puffing their shoulders in a very proud stupid way.

"OH. I got it. The cat is really big.” Molten nodded, surprisingly, he didn't even look at Nexus anymore, just focused on looking at Sun kindly, the wires bent like a cat's tail, hovering around Sun's body. The eyes, which were focused on Nexus a few seconds ago, turned completely to observe the saffron-colored animatronic, causing Nexus to suddenly erupt in an unreasonable anger from nowhere. Surprisingly, Sun seemed quite comfortable when his whole body was entangled in the iron disgusted spaghetti.

“So what are you looking for me for, Molten? I thought the only joy you had was standing in a corner doing nothing?” Sun grimaced, they still stood in front of Nexus, deliberately acting natural. Sometimes they even turned around to shush him down. It felt weirdly as if he was participating in some kind of damn comedy that Nexus had no script for.

“It's funny. It is really hilarious!!” Nexus laughed, his body constantly trying to move, causing the clocks inside to spin around. The heat is on. “You always criticize and show disappointment in me, oh Moon, oh Moon, why did you hurt our family like that but look at yourself?!!!” His hysterical laughter was too loud, too painful. He tried to look at Sun's face to see if there was any devastation but surprisingly, there was nothing.

“You followed someone who wanted to take your younger brother for a dissection!! What did he offer you??” Nexus grabbed the fabric and twisted Sun's hips, causing them to stumble and fall backwards. He tried with all his might to firmly pin his claws on Sun's shell, to tear that thing off, to show Sun that he should not be underestimated.

But Nexus is too weak. Or his system is still overloaded. He only had enough strength to scratch Sun's outer skin a little before he stopped moving completely.

Sun sat on the ground, groaning pitifully. But there wasn't a single ripple, even now.‌ Sun's lack of expression stunned him to the point where he couldn't speak.

“Are you okay, Sun?”

“It hurts so much. I think some of my screws are broken.” Sun frowned and stood up. They turned towards Nexus, took a deep breath as if to say something before turning away in exasperation.

“Hmm…‌Maybe that will make you less jumpy.” Molten shrugged, ignoring the childishly disapproving look from Sun. “But the Creator called you, Sun. We have a mission to do. Right now.” Molten's monotone voice rang out, causing Sun's body to stiffen. Their naturally cheerful and worried expression seemed to fade away, and for a moment, Sun blinked, their hands touching their head gently in what seemed like something was gangrene inside.

“Um… I guess we should hurry up and not keep father waiting. But-"

“Your cat is safe, Sun. There are no monitoring devices in this room, and it seems that your 'cat' itself emits some kind of energy that prevents any machine from sensing it."

All of Molten's eyes once again stared at Nexus, giving him goosebumps. A look that would have torn him in half if it weren't for Sun's presence blocking the way.

“Oh, you're so clever, Molten!” Sun admired. “Why do you know that?” Their hands swung up, shaking the metal coil that could break their bodies at any moment.

“I don't know.”‌ Molten shrugged again. “It's just there.”

“Someday you will need to give me a real logistic answer rather than I don’t know, Molten!”‌ Sun pouted. They turned to look at Nexus, the bell ringing in his ears.

“Hmm… Let me see… For now, please stay here, Nexus. I... have to go on an extremely important mission for my father! And I guess you need sometime to rest too.”

Sun removed the blanket covering Nexus and placed it on him despite his protests.

He hates Sun. He hated this feeling of helplessness, of being weak again. He ignored the fact that after everything that had happened, it was still Sun who was by his side in the end, it was still Sun who brought such a false sense of peace that level of frustration scared him to death.

Nexus' screams were still there, only fading when Sun closed the lab door. A gloomy moss covered both of them, as they moved across the metal floor in silence. The dark hallway had only the harsh sound of their footsteps hitting the floor, especially Sun, who was still whistling a cheerful tune, hauntingly gliding through the weeping willows as they crossed fast flowing water under the bridge.

Is it the Creator's interest to design the lab as a cheap version of Dr. Eggman video games? Sun doesn't know and doesn't care. It is just…

“Is there something you want to say, Molten?”

The bear didn't ask right away, or be curious about Nexus, which was strange. Especially when they most often are so loyal to the Creator first, and Sun second, simply because Sun is their partner in crime. Sure, they were very close friends, but Molten's loyalty lay with the Creator deep into programming.

It's not that Sun isn't like that, but the code installer in Sun's software is much more disengaged. Surely the terrible pain from not completing the task as well as the brain fog while resting were still there, along with the cruel urge that made him want to please his father. But the lack of a personality chip makes things quite easy for him to handle.

Sun chuckled, wondering if this is him having a more upgraded  version of Forgor than Earth's?

“I won't ask if you don't want to tell me, Sun.” Molten tilted their head, a rope wrapped around Sun's arm, tapping his shoulders gently. It caused a slight feeling of guilt mixed with warmth to spread in Sun's heart before it disappeared, like every other emotion Sun often felt before.

“Thank you Molten. Honestly, I feel a bit worried.” Sun started rambling. “I'm not sure if you would think me hiding the Nexus as a form of betrayal to our father? Because… well I still feel a little guilty about Nexus, you know? About how he became like this? Like, you understand what I mean right? You have to do what you promised, even though it's not your obligation anymore." Sun gently stared into nothingness, the pink color gradually fading back to a fresh yellow color. Molten somehow liked this yellow color better, even their internal programming constantly told them to report this to the Creator if they saw anything unusual in Sun, like this.

“Creator will get mad.” Molten mused. Their creator has never had a good attitude. Sun laughed nervously, rubbing his hand that had been cut off and replaced, a result of failing in a certain mission. Not having emotions doesn't mean he doesn't feel pain. Although, the excitement of not having any negativity in the way sometimes still makes Sun do something stupid, like intentionally disobeying the Creator.

“Yeah… But it's okay! I guess if I do something really good, father will agree to let me keep Nexus without doing anything to him!” Sun snapped his fingers like two guns, leveling them toward Molten's face.

“Even if it means bringing Lunar back here?” Molten asked quietly. They failed twice in this mission, but fortunately Sun made up for it by finding one more shard.

Although this was not enough for the Creator to not break all the pieces of Sun's body in the simulation for hours.

Sun was silent for a moment, then he smiled, his eyes shining lavender.

"Of course! Because that's an order. But..." Sun gently looked down at the dark water surface, flowing slowly under the bridge. “I believe Moon and Solar won't let me do that.”

“Do you still care about them?” Curiosity reflected in Molten's voice, it made Sun's eyes fall into ecstasy...

"I do not know. Obviously I can't feel anything..." His hands suddenly covered his face. There was a shaky sound coming from his voice box as if Sun was laughing and having a panic attack at the same time. “But for them, I still can't help but feel a little care. By some kind of pure instinct or such craps I still feel responsible for them. It was so painful and at the same time… it was nothing…”

“If it was the Creator's request, of course I would still do it without hesitation but…”

“To think in such a twisted way toward my family, I feel like I'm not worthy of them anymore, Molten…”

Sun's smile was too pale and weak, a bland indifference floated in Sun's tone, revealing the fact that from the beginning, all he showed was just a program that his AI copied from what he remembers how he used to act. About the fact that when The Thing finished his job, a part of Sun gradually disappeared. Of course he still tries to make his essence float, but some days, Sun's greatest satisfaction is just to follow the Creator's orders and let the family love he cherishes so much drift into the past.

There was a writhing pain that appeared in Sun's chest, as if it wanted to crush him and carry him away. Not feeling anything made him become so desperate. He doesn't want that, he wants to feel angry, he wants to feel this hatred like before. He wants the inherent anxiety that is a part of him not to be instantly extinguished, he wants his emotions to return to his own control. He wanted to become Sun again, no matter how much he hated his own pathetic nature self. He couldn't stand the false sense of ambiguity towards everything like a storm trying to take Sun away and break it in half—

He wants to care and wants to return to his own family, he doesn't want to be here-----

Sun pressed his face against Molten. The purple-pink light appeared again, making Sun blink.

“Oops… Thinking too much again…” Sun released his hands, his eyes still staring blankly at nothing, unable to let go. It made Molten feel uncomfortable, they didn't like seeing Sun like this, and for a moment, a very ancient image with a nervous but sincere laugh that belonged to the yellow animatronic flashed through the bear's foggy mind.

“You're fine, Sun. You are like my Bonbon. I don't want someone else to be my partner. Not if it is not you.” Molten pleaded, clinging to Sun like he was a lifeline. 

The two people's eyes stared at each other. Sun smiled hollowly, his eyes glowing sunny yellow before disappearing in mauve. Darkness covered the two of them like a monster's greedy mouth, two lonely creatures that only knew how to cling themselves to each other to survive now.

“You are so terrible to compare me to that bunny, Molten. I am much better than a Bonbon.”

Summary below.

[pinkyjulien]

I really, really hate the "Female V is canon" vs "Male V is canon" debate that been popping here and here in the tags those past weeks

Cyberpunk 2077 is a Role Playing Game, there is no "canon" protagonist, that's the whole point. We all have a different playstyles, different stories and headcanons, our custom V is The Canon V of Our Own playthroughs!

After Phantom Liberty dropped, I've seen a lot of players, on Tumblr or Twitter, voicing their concerne and disappointment in how much more Female V focused the official promo, videos and even in-game credits became

I was one of them too, expressing my feelings multiple times, sometimes awkwardly, frustrated that Male V players were once again brushed to the side, because that's how it feels like, right?

Well, it might feels like it, but this isn't the case AT ALL, far from it. This is only what I would call a "Fandom Phenomenon" and I want to talk more about it a bit

I had a great conversation with a friend of mine who works in the game industry and it opened my eyes on the matter, and I've since been really interested in seeing RPGs statistics!

Because it's really, really important to make the difference between the Casual Player Base (majority of players) and the Fans / Fandom Base (minority of players)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I always been lurking in fandoms here on Tumblr, since Mass Effect, Dragon Age, and now with Cyberpunk 2077 and Baldur's Gate 3

First I want to drop some stats- might be completly wrong, but I'm only sharing my point of view here, in an attempt to explain why some people are frustrated with Female V being the focus (and why we shouldn't be!)

I think it's not wrong to say that fandoms are mostly occupied by women and fem-identifying individuals; fandoms are a safe place for players and fans to share their passions. Women are STILL HEAVILY harassed and hated in the gaming industry as a whole, it doesn't take a lot of digging to catch a vile comment on Twitter or on Twitch for example, you cannot go far without seeing someone either attacking or sexualizing them

This is a huge problem in the industry still, every games that release with a female protagonist get trashed- just look at the bullshit surrounding GTA 6 just because players will be able to play as a woman as an option

Fandoms are also safe for non-gender conforming people, non-binaries, trans people and queer men, but I think fem individuals and women are a clear majority, at least on Tumblr (only talking about genders identity here and not about being queer or not, not talking about sexualities or attraction) (not an official stat at all and only my point of view and experience from being on Tumblr since ~2012)

Now let's talk about Cyberpunk 2077- because this is my main fandom since 2020, and what prompted me to write this post in the first place

CDPR didn't share any stats recently, but it's REALLY SAFE to assume the MAJORITY of players are playing a straight Male V romancing Panam, followed by a lesbian Female V romancing Judy, but the player pools for both options are still majoritarly cis hetero men (and they are still the focus for AAA studios to sell their games, this is sadly just how it is)

However on the fandom side, Fem V was always the focus; virtual photography, mods, ships, OCs... She was always more popular than Male V, getting more interactions and notes and why trends like "Male V monday" were created and why there is still a lack of male V focused mods (non-binaries and trans fem folks and characters are also sadly under-represented in all type of content and art)

So, being yourself as a non-fem player, playing as a Masc V, seeing CDPR officially make the switch from Male V to Female V, when the space you've been in for the past 3 years has been overwhelmingly Female V focused on all front, was a bit of a punch in the guts; like I said earlier, I was reaaally frustrated with this too!

And I'd say it's "normal"? or at least "ok" to feel this way, it makes sense considering how little attention Male V in general get in the fans community

BUT. BUT... It's REALLY important here to realize how we sound and how we look like when we voice our frustrations on the matter; we sound and look just like all the misogynistic people over on Twitter who screams about "woke games" everytime there is a female protagonist in their "non political games". We have to remember that fandoms are suuuch a small part of the game industry

Baldur's Gate 3 recently shared their stats and this interesting tweet got into my dash

▶ tweet

Astarion is nowhere to be seen in the official most romanced companions statistic, but I'm sure a lot of people will agree that he's probably the most popular one in the fandom side!

Another stat here from Mass Effect and really interesting info coming from David Gaider about how the hardcore fanbase aka fandom's choices were WILDLY different from the casual / main player pool

▶ tweet

Getting my head out of the fandom bubbles and seeing the bigger picture, how much under-represented women still are in official medias (not talking about fan content) and how insanly misoginistic the game industry still is, both on the player and devs sides, helped me handle my own frustration on the matter, accept and even celebrate Female V being the focus for the Phantom Liberty campaign

With all that said tho, we all should be able to vent about the lack of Male, Masc and Non-Binary content in the fandom side, while still being aware of the industry state, it CAN co-exist! It doesn't make anyone a bad or misogynist person!

We are all humans and can be awkward and make mistakes, especially when voicing frustration or talking while in a negative mood. Let's educate one another in good-faithed manners when we slip instead of jumping to conclusion and throw accusations

Not gonna lie I kind of lost my train of thoughts and not sure how to finish this post, but I hope this can enlight some people on why CDPR made this choice!

Repeating this as a finale note; this doesn't mean that Female V is the "main" V or "canon" V . It's simply her time to shine, and it's well deserved! The industry needs it

[fatfables]

I found this undergrad project online looking into the growth of adipophilia (fat fetishism).

Well worth a read as the guy gets kinda carried away!

It's reproduced here in full.

Adipophilia 

How do cultural, societal, and technological factors intersect to shape the emergence and growth of adipophilia among young male adults in the digital age?

Shane Tjock

(Bachelor of Science student)

University of Michigan

Department of Environmental Philosophy

Obesity Studies

Abstract

This research project outlines a comprehensive approach to studying the growth of adipophilia (a sexual attraction to fat or overweight people) among young male adults online, integrating observational and experimental methods as well as qualitative and quantitative analyses to provide a holistic understanding of the phenomenon. Adipophilic tendencies have been on the rise in the United States and other western countries in recent years amongst young males and in particular within the homosexual population. The occurrence of sexual attraction to big, round, bloated bellies and buttocks, as well as thick thighs and swollen man breasts is clearly visible through social media platforms, forums, and so called ‘gainer’ dedicated websites. The rise of ‘gainer societies’ at colleges and universities, including the University of Michigan, evidences that the growth of gainerism is not limited to online spaces. Gainerism and feederism are linked sexual proclivities where people actively participate in a concerted effort to make themselves and or someone else fatter. Sexual arousal is often achieved through the act of binge eating or ‘stuffing’ until the stomach is stretched to the max after the consumption of excessive amounts of food and drink. Adipophiliacs like to rub their own and other people’s swollen bellies and elicit pleasure from the effects of purposeful weight gain, such as; out growing clothing, button popping, the appearance of stretch marks, and watching big bellies bounce. Pride is taken in calorie counting, measuring growth, and regular weigh-ins. As well as a personal increase in laziness, selfishness, and greed. The growth of gainerism amongst young LGBTQ+ males is multifaceted and has been caused by the normalisation of obesity in society, the overabundance and marketing of cheap unhealthy foodstuffs, a move towards body positivity, an increased awareness and openness to kink lifestyles, and the fact that it is sexy and fun.

Introduction

The rise of adipophilia as a cultural phenomenon is of interest to psychologists, sociologists, and fat fetishists. The question of why young men chose to over-inflate and swell their bodies with fat until their abdomens are abnormally round and swollen, like water balloons about to pop, is the key question of this study. What is it about huge, heavy, rounded-out bellies, that evidence the greed of the young male overconsumer, that is so deliciously desirable?

This study seeks to answer this question through a mix of observational and experimental techniques that provide both qualitative and quantitative evidence that the results of purposeful weight gain are hot as hell. Observations of publicly posted photos, videos, and conversations of male gainers will be carefully considered and analysed in order to identify common themes and factors related to stuffing your belly so full that it strains and stretches out inches over your belt, jiggling with every step you take. Due to the doubtful efficacy of feeding healthy participants up to the point of morbid obesity, the author has decided to partake in several gainer related activities himself and will rate them on a likert scale, from 1: Not at all arousing, to 5: Extremely arousing, in order to gather real world data into the immense joy of feeling oneself grow bigger and bigger everyday. As a voluntary participant the author will also undergo a regular testing and measurement routine in order to ascertain the effectiveness of various weight gain diets and to see if the experience of having one’s growth recorded is as hot as other gainers say it is.

Literature Review

There is a very limited amount of scientific literature on this topic, I have chosen therefore to give a brief overview of adipophilia in popular culture. The most commonly cited adipophilic book is Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, (Dahl, 1964), in which an extremely fat German boy wins a trip to a chocolate factory by eating an obscene amount of chocolate. His wonderfully greedy guts are then sucked up a pipe while he attempts to drink an entire chocolate river. A disappointing failure. It also includes a girl who inflates like a giant blueberry, but this study is not interested in girls. A recent prequel film, Willy Wonka (2023), features a heavy-set policeman who is fed chocolate bribes by chocolatier gangsters until he almost triples in size. A life goal for many. The Fattest Man in America (Nicholson, 2005) is a novel about a thousand pound man who eats himself up to a glorious size in order to become a tourist attraction. Alternatively The Fattest Man in Britain (2009) is a TV Movie (freely available on YouTube) starring Timothy Spall about a man who gets into an eating contest in order to prove that he is in fact the fattest. Heavyweights (1995) is a Disney film featuring the fat kids from The Mighty Ducks and a young Ben Stiller. It is set in a summer weight loss camp. The storyline features a lot of alarming similar events to the story of my friend Shawn when he went to fat camp. Life imitates art. The Simpsons (1989-Present) features several episodes in which characters gain weight, and I also used to fancy Kenen from Kenan & Kel (1996).

Research Objectives

To observe online gainer content in order to identify and analyse themes and factors that turn me on.

To experience the pleasure of gaining an insanely unhealthy amount of weight within a very short period in order to discover just how sexually gratifying it is.

To promote adipophilia as a lifestyle amongst other young gay men.

Observational Study

Design:

Conduct a systematic observation of online communities, forums, and platforms known for adipophilic content. Utilize qualitative methods to analyze discussions, interactions, and content shared within these communities.

Sample:

Select a diverse range of online platforms catering to a single interest and demographic.

Collect data over a specified time period to capture variations in content and user engagement.

Data Collection:

Employ data scraping techniques to collect publicly available content.

Record observations, noting patterns, themes, and prevalent attitudes towards adipophilia.

Analysis:

I have spent the last four months observing several online gainer platforms and websites. I have viewed thousands of photos and videos of fat growing men of all ages, from 18 years and up. Though I have a few doubts about all of them being at least 18 and for some reason I couldn’t really find any gainers much older than about 65. I am unsure as to why this is.

Common themes and factors that I have identified are; huge round bloated bellies, ball bellies, balloon bellies, and beer bellies. Some bellies hang low while others stick out really far. Some look soft and squishy while others look hard and round - as if the guy has swallowed a basketball whole. They are my favourite. All of them are wide, swollen, and beautiful. Gainers often eat in their videos and stuff themselves stupid on takeaways. They like to watch each other over-eat and encourage each other to eat even more. I often did this whilst being sure to maintain my distance as an observer. Other factors were; soft flabby love handles and muffin tops that overhang tight shorts and boxers. These were lush fat rolls that I watched grow fuller and thicker on many sweet boys. Moobs, man breasts, and titties are also very popular. Fat boys tend to get big flat nipples that accentuate their doughy chests. I like how once you’re fat enough your tits rest on top of the dome of your distended over-ripe belly.

In many videos boys play with their fat tits, they squeeze and caress them, while teasing the viewer to suck on them like they were a woman. They also like to rub and pat their bloated bellies. I would eat tacos and rub mine while watching them. Some guys burp really loudly after downing fizzy drinks. It makes them seem so wonderfully greedy. One guy on Tumblr did this in only his boxers and I swear I saw his dick twitch.

I didn’t do all of the data collection I was supposed to due to becoming distracted by all the sexy fat men, especially the comparison pictures that show you how they used to look when they were thin compared to now. Other reasons for this weakness in my study design will become obvious when I explain the experimental study.

My prevalent attitude towards adipophilia is very positive as is that of all the gainers I spoke to online. They love getting fatter, telling me about it, and sharing private pics with me via DM’s.

Below is a list of all the fat factors that I identified, my rating for how sexy they are, and my explanation of why they are so fucking hot.

Trying on old clothes - Level 4 - Super Hot - Because I love how it demonstrates just how much they must have eaten. Watching a fat young guy struggle to fit into a XXL shirt makes me super hard.

Button popping - Level 5 - Dick Burstingly Hot - As above, only better! Boys suck their bellies in to try and look as thin as they can and they breathe out. Their bulging bellies overwhelm their shirts or pants as they expand, sending buttons flying off as fast as it makes me cum.

Burping - Level 3 - Sexy - Burping due to overconsumption is cool. I think I prefer it when I do it myself compared to watching others. I love how the escaping gas creates extra space in my belly for even more food!

Shaking/Jiggling - Super Hot - Big bouncing ball bellies and just the best! They make me want to grab them and smash my face into them.

Trying to exercise - Level 2 - Kinda Hot - This one I don’t get so much. Why would anyone want to exercise? It goes against all of the glory or adipophilia. It is though kinda cool to see sweaty fat boys struggle on the floor.

Belly measuring and weigh-ins - Level 6 - Super Dick Burstingly Hot!! - Videos and photos where boys measure their belly circumference and stand on scales cause me to nut directly. I love how happy they seem when they see the benefits of all their gorging. It makes me so proud of them.

Experimental Study

Design:

Spend three months eating as much as humanly possible in order to see just how fat I can get with the help of my friends in the gainer society.

Sample:

Me!

Data Collection:

Quantitative data: Weekly weigh-ins and belly measurements.

Qualitative data: Personal record of how turned on I get by my gains.

Analysis:

I first decided to gain when a friend of mine told me about the new gainer society that meets every week at KFC. I had always found fat boys attractive and was overweight myself. My starting weight was 193 lbs. My friend knew that I liked being fat so he suggested that we go together. There was a guy there called Shawn, he was the fattest kid I’d ever seen. He was so cool! He ate like three family buckets to himself. I wanted to be able to do that. Shawn said that I had a good attitude and welcomed me to the group. I ate eight pieces of chicken, a burger with extra cheese, and three corn on the cobs. I felt so full and my belly ached as I walked home. I knew I needed more. That’s when I decided to do this study for my end of year project.

My friends in the UMGS thought that the project was a great idea and helped me to write a plan and food diary to ensure that I ate an extra 500 calories every day in order to expand my capacity and ensure growth. I stuck to it for the first week and then couldn’t be bothered any more so I just ate as much as I wanted. The plan was too restrictive and writing everything down all the time became a fucking ball ache. I just wanted to eat!

After two weeks I was noticeably fatter. My pants felt tighter and my t-shirt began to ride up my belly. Danni one day even pointed out that one of my love handles was on display in class. I started eating all the time and always snacked on Doritos and Snickers during lectures. I started to go topless in my room so that I could see and play with my fat while I did my observation study and snacked. I started jerking off more often. Gaining is definitely arousing.

After a month I needed bigger clothes and went to TJ Maxx to buy cheap shorts and t-shirts. I knew they wouldn’t last long! In the lunch hall my favourites were chilli dogs and fries, with chocolate fudge cake for dessert. I ate so much of it that my friends started to call me ‘Fudge’, I’d never had a nickname before!

My belly was now noticeably bigger. It protruded out and the front and felt heavy due to the fact that I kept it constantly stuffed to the brim. I could now cup my hand under it and lift it up. I love doing that. The fat feels so smooth and luxurious. My Mom even mentioned to me on a Zoom call that I looked like I’d gained weight. I told her that it was normal for guys at college. I was so impressed that I even looked fatter through a screen!

I kept eating and soon I could manage a family bucket at KFC with ease. I would drown the chicken in gravy, which Shawn said they make out of the fat scrapped from the bottom of the fryer. I so hope that this is true. I also started drinking nothing but Cola and Fanta and Beer. If it ain’t carbonated keep it the hell away from me! Brrruuurrrrppp!

From my observational study I learnt that some gainers like to rest their full bellies on a sink. I thought at first that this was just a bit weird and silly but then I tried it! I was amazed by how fat I felt resting my gorgeous growling gluttonous gut on top of the cold service. I spent ten minutes lifting and fondling it while I jerked off to my own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

By the end of the second month I felt massive! My dick was constantly as hard as my tightly packed stomach. Adipophilia is so sexy. I bought new clothes again and they already felt restrictive. My tits became more sensitive and I was overcome with pleasure when Danni sucked on them. They didn’t quite rest on top of my belly yet but I knew it wouldn’t be long.

In the lunch hall I turned to pizza and pasta and all the carbs. It was like the Atkins diet but in reverse. ‘Fudge’ was turning into a real fat boy. My thighs were thicker and began to chaff in the heat. At first this annoyed me but Shawn said that it was a sign of my progress and kindly offered to rub vaseline onto my groin for me. He said that my thighs were soft like two tubes of thick cookie dough. That made it feel much better.

With all the extra weight I was carrying I felt myself become more lethargic and lazy. I spent even more time in my room alone doing my observational study but lost the urge to continue with the boring data collection. All I wanted to do was eat, watch videos, and jack off. My gut is now so big that I really have to stretch to reach my dick when I’m sitting. When I lie down it still rises up into the air, whereas before it splayed out wide and flat while I slept. I guess it’s because I always have a pre-sleep meal of filling chow-mein and dumplings every night.

On the very last day of this study I returned to KFC by myself and ate three family buckets! I knew that I could do it! I was so proud of myself that I had to go into their bathroom and jack it while I farted ferociously on the toilet!

I would never have behaved like that before I got into adipophilia. I feel now like a much happier, sexier, more fun, and adventurous guy. I’m sad that this study is over, but I know that my adventure with gaining is only just beginning. I’m now 286 lbs and am determined to gain my first hundred. I am so close and just typing this makes me deliriously hungry. I’m gonna go stuff myself with a mountain of McDonalds before I write out my results which are summarised below.

Results

Month One:

Starting weight 193 lbs, Waist size 36 inches.

Main foods consumed: KFC, Chilli Dogs, Chocolate Fudge Cake.

End weight 216 lbs, Waist size 38 inches.

Turn ons: Outgrowing my pants, feeling my belly swell, burping.

Month Two:

Starting weight 216 lbs, Waist size 38 inches.

Main foods consumed: KFC, Chilli Dogs, Fries, Pasta, Pizza, Chocolate Fudge Cake, Doritos, Snickers.

End weight 245 lbs, Waist size 40 inches.

Turn ons: My fast ass ripping my boxers, eating so much that I actually puked, abdominal pains, lifting and massaging my soft silky overhang, my love handles spilling out in class.

Month Three:

Starting weight 245 lbs, Waist size 40 inches.

Main foods consumed: KFC, Chilli Dogs, Fries, Pasta, Pizza, Chocolate Fudge Cake, Doritos, Snickers, McDonalds, Chinese, Cheesecakes, Profiteroles, Tacos, Ice Cream, Chicken Wings, Candy. So much candy!

End weight 286 lbs, Waist size 42 inches (and feeling tight AF!!)

Turn ons: Red raw stretch marks that circle my deep belly button like a whirlpool sucking me deeper in to the world of gaining, my fat heavy circular tits that feel soft and squishy, eating despite the fact that my stomach is howling in pain due to being stuffed with delicious high calorie junk foods, licking Shawn’s ass out while he farts, knowing that I’m already a huge fat gluttonous pig that’s only going to grow rounder and fatter with every greedy day that passes.

Implications and Recommendations

I recommend everybody to get into adipophilia. Fat is not only beautiful, it is tantalising, addictive, and highly erotic. Fat boys are the epitome of sexual desire and the most lush and lavish example of the human form. Big, round, heavy, ball bellies are the most attractive and every gay boy needs to have one. Social media and other online forums are a great way to get into adipophilia and the gainer/feeder scenes but nothing is better than doing it for real. Growing as fat as you can with the help of friends who want nothing more than to see you bulk out and grow into the fattest, roundest, blob of lard possible is unbeatable. Especially when they are more than happy to beat and suck you off while you gorge yourself on heavy milkshakes.

The personal implications for my belly and ass have been massive. They have both grown and swollen out immensely. Other gay boys love to watch and grope my fat ass as it bulges out of my straining gym shorts. It’s so soft and wide and round now, more of a balloon butt than bubble butt! The belly is so much bigger than it was. It loves what I have done to it and only wants more. It speaks to me now and says “Feed me!” all of the time. I have forgotten what it feels like to be hungry. A sensation that I never want to feel again. Being constantly full is the only way to be. The only way to ensure that I keep expanding.

Societal implications are also hugely positive. The more young guys who get into gaining then the more sexy fatties there will be for me to look at, encourage, play with, and fuck. Boys deserve to be fed to the brim with everything that they could ever desire and more. I want everyone to experience the advantages of the fat, lazy, and greedy lifestyle of a true glutton.

Conclusion

Adipophilia is on the rise and we should all welcome it with open arms and a tray of twenty four chocolate cream donuts! Through my observational and experimental studies I have discovered just how thrilling purposeful weight gain can be, both for the gainer and the people encouraging them. Online adipophilic content is growing every day, like my waistline, and I predict that it will continue to do so. I sincerely hope that adipophilia continues to develop into the mainstream and recommend any young male researchers interested in the topic to repeat and expand upon my study in order to help validate the scene. I promise that you will have a whale of a time!

[taylortruther]

Idk if this is an unpopular opinion or more of an observation: this fandom is very much not normal about gay men. It makes a 100% sense that conversations about homophobia in the fandom mainly are about sapphic swifties, because they are a huge part of the fandom and face intense harassment. Men generally are less prominent within the fandom, so I see why people don't always think about how they are spoken about. However, because of this and the fact that "twitter gays" are enemy of the state for swifties on that platform because of their frequent dislike of Taylor, it can feel like homophobia geared towards gay men is a free for all. And I don't just mean the absolutely horrendous comments people leave on Twitter, but also the way people talk about Joe's "lack" of masculinity or make jokes about him being bi* in a way that reduce (male) bisexuality to something ridiculous. Even the anon you got after somebody said Joe would have been good in Challengers felt (unintentionally) dismissive of him potentially playing a gay role. Why is that? This might also be a tumblr thing where the demographic of the website is a bit different then on twitter, but the fact that one of the main groups that regularly get harrassed by Swifties are gay men is frequently ignored and that rubs me the wrong way, and I think it relates to how the fandom in general talks about gender and sexuality.

*addition: the assumption that Joe must be queer because of his quiet demeanor or the field he works in was huge in the fandom at some point and it has always felt icky to me and very much tied to traditional gender roles, which is something this fandom is very infected by. But this was also very en vogue in gaylor spaces, for obvious reasons, but there is also a convo to be had about how gay women don't always treat gay men with dignity or respect. (Their male privilege is not a catch all excuse.)

you're preaching to the choir here. it stems from the same issues of misogyny and homophobia as the anti-wlw sentiments though. like, it's wrong for women to express sexual desire over another woman, especially one like taylor, whose femininity is pretty paramount to her persona. and in comparison to uber-masculine travis, joe becomes "gay," just like josh kushner was called gay in kaylor circles because of his ~mannerisms~ or perceived lack of masculinity. there are many other things to say about this phenomenon but it should be very obvious to everyone by now that swifties (like the rest of the world, but it's highly visible in this fandom due to who taylor is and how she looks) have very intense opinions about what femininity and masculinity should look like. and if someone in the universe steps out of line then it's criticized pretty openly.

[charmwasjess]

This unstable spring weather is reminding me of when I was a teenager, I had a massive, irrational phobia of tornadoes, despite growing up in an area with little to no chance of them. It was so bad that my mom took me to a psychologist because I'd do irrational things like hide in the bathtub instead of going to school if there was any chance of severe weather. It didn't help. Every time the sky got dark, I'd get that weird, frantic, achy-itchy feeling.

And then, one day, I'm sixteen, working my first job at a coffee shop and I get a panicked call from my boss. I look out the window and almost comically, like it showed up just for me, to make some point, there's this beautiful white tornado dancing right towards us. I remember thinking it looked like the skinny part of an hour glass. It's true what they say about them appearing to hold still when they're heading for you, so I got a very good look at it. The trees were bending flat to the ground and the double doors of the shop were getting sucked open. Me and the other teenaged employee crowded the kids (we were also an ice cream shop, there was a birthday going on) into the center room, and we sang "happy birthday" over and over again to drown out the sound of it hitting the building. We were okay, but it took off several adjacent roofs and smashed up cars in the parking lot.

This was a weird way to start loving tornadoes. (cut for weather geekery)

They are like dreams - for all the data, we know relatively little about why they happen. We can see their ingredients: moisture, atmospheric instability, wind sheer, but sometimes all those pieces are in place and a tornado won't form. In fact, most often, it doesn't. They're still rare. The language we use to talk about them endlessly fascinates me: they are born out of thunderstorms called super cells, which have a 'lifecycle.' One thunderstorm can birth a single tornado, or many that live and die along the greater lifespan of the thunderstorm. The way they multiply is fascinating, one tornado can be circled by wispy, smaller, satellite tornadoes, or more rarely, two full-sized tornadoes side by side, a pair of twins. A group of tornados is a "family."

They come in all shapes and sizes. Mine was a skinny rope funnel, and a relatively weak example - F1 on the scale. The 1925 Tri-State tornado, F5, the strongest on the scale, was the longest recorded tornado in history with a 219-mile track. Part of the danger of that storm was that nobody even realized it was a tornado until it was right on top of them because it was so huge: it was said to look like a red, boiling fog from horizon to horizon because it was rain-wrapped, and had sucked up a lot of red river mud. Water tornadoes and fire tornadoes are both a thing.

They behave inconsistently too. The El Reno tornado that killed the storm chaser and scientist Tim Samaras in 2013 is often personified as evil, a storm set out to kill storm chasers, because it seemed to behave with particular, intentional nastiness. In 30 seconds, it went from a small tornado to a 2.6 mile wedge. It's hard to even imagine the scale of something like that: someone observing from a safe distance miles away is suddenly inside the literal tornado within less than a minute. Most tornadoes move in a more or less straight trajectory - this one repeatedly changed directions. But this is just another example of how even when scientists know how tornadoes generally behave, we're still figuring them out.

Of course, all of this is not about overly romanticizing a phenomenon that kills a ton of people each year, a fact that is only going to get worse with climate change. And certainly research funding and money for early warning systems or national weather services being less prioritized in the politicization of climate change.

I still have tornado nightmares a lot. I had one last night, which is I guess why I'm still thinking about the shapes. It's always the same: I'm standing in a house, usually my childhood home, and there are families of tornadoes that go right past it, but never hit. I still think they're so interesting. And it's funny the way anxiety can turn into fascination under the right circumstances.