#little warning: i am chaos incarnate

[mandg-readings]

Last spam of the day: I'm also a co-host with PaperCraneAudiobooks for a crackfic podcast where we read live and blind fics about obscure pairings or bizarre events. We're due to release Episode 6 later this week so you've got plenty to fill your boots with. It is an extremely NSFW listen! Being that we are British and swearing is a sentence enhancer here and we read some messed up stuff. Just realised I've mentioned this on my instagram but not on here😂 Also, if you follow my FB page, it won't let me post text... so if I've been quiet on there, that's why. I got Silencio'd. 😔

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F!Dragon Reader x M! Yan Dragon OC

Chaos Incarnate

MINORS DNI

CW: FEM! Reader, reader is a shapeshifting dragon, reader has a vagina, reader referred to as she/her, non human anatomy(the guy’s a dragon, of course i’m giving him at least 2 dicks *cough cough* he has 3), reader is virgin, pet names for reader (little queen, ), kidnaped reader, NON CON, cervix fucking, breeding kink, unsafe sex, creampies, multiple orgasms, massive size difference/size kink, predator/prey play, severe violence against reader, dacryphilia, stomach bulge, scaleys(like furries but scaley lol idk if i should warn that but we are dragons), double(triple) penetration, 2 dicks in one hole, public sex, monster fucking i forget the word rn, not proofread whew that’s like my most ever XD ENJOY!<3 potions and magic high fantasy environment. p in v and p in b

Part 1?

You’ve been queen for only a short while. It wasn’t only your birthright, you’ve proven yourself a formidable foe, not to be trifled with on many a battlefield. Your roar has instilled fear in enemy armies, and has rallied your own troops countless times over. You are beloved by your people.

So how did you get into this situation?

A long since (thought to be) dead draconic titan kidnapping you?

The chains are tight around your torso, they’re also enchanted with some magic spell so that you cannot shift into your glorious dragon form. You feel real terror for the first in a long time.

He might eat you… He was known once as the world devourer. You gulp.

He can smell the fear on you, you could in his place, but his smirk gives it away further.

“Little queen,” Even in humanoid form his voice booms off the walls of his cavernous castle. “Why haven’t you had a brood of your own yet? hmm?” His posture is too lax for your own comfort. He inspects you while leaning against the metal bed posts of a massive larger than a standard dragon sized round bed.

“Wh-what!?” You cough and choke on your own spit, what a personal question!! Sure all of dragonkind is wondering why their new queen hasn’t at least taken consorts. “That’s too personal, and quite frankly none of your business.” You defiantly turn your head with a small “hmmpf”

“Oh little queen, that is where you are wrong,” He kicks off of the post, and slowly saunters over to you. He’s completely naked other than a gilded loincloth. You keep your eyes up to the ceiling and away from him. “I haven’t had brood of my own in… Well centuries! since i’ve been asleep and all that.”

Your brows peak, he can’t be going where you think he’s going. His claw traces your jaw and brings your face to his, he gazes upon your lips wantonly. “Please…”

“Oh I love it when you beg already. You’ll be doing plenty of that,” His claw becomes more and more draconic as he shifts it’s form to something much much sharper. You try to sink into the pillar you’re chained to to get away as best you can even though you know it’s no use.

*Slash!*

Your chains clink against the floor loudly. He’s set you free? You look back at him with only one eye opening at a time.

“Your first time should be done properly, right?” His grin is far too toothy for comfort.

“How did you—?” you start panicking now.

He smells the air, his eyes rolling in his head, and hazily coming back to yours as if he’s becoming high from the air.

“Little queen, I am ancient, even if i couldn’t smell it that you haven’t taken a mate or even a consort yet,” He shakes his head in confusion, “You are wearing that sweet innocence on your being. It is in the way you walk, the way you talk and interact with the world around you,”

“I’ve been.. busy, is all…” You look down before, “Wait, you’ve been… Watching me?” your eyes widen.

“Of course. Such a promising mate for me,” His voice is low and resonates in your body, your breathing picks up even more. You can’t help the heat in your core either. “Run away, little queen,” His toothy grin grows inhumanly wider.

You back up, clawing behind you to guide you as you keep your eyes on him, and he slowly stalks after you.

Fuck! fuck! fuck!

His castle bedroom has a window big enough for even him to fly through, it dwarfs you… Just how big is his dragon form?? you transform and start to fly swiftly away. You have to get away!

You hear his transformation behind you, it whips up the wind giving you a jet stream and his cocky roar vibrates the very air around you.

Good gods! What the fuck!?

You have to turn your head back to look, everything in your bones said to look back, even though you knew you shouldn’t, you couldn’t resist, and that pause gave him enough time to pounce upon you midair.

His ginormous claws rake into your scales, and his teeth find your neck, you roar back at him, threatening him, telling him to stop. His growl shakes your throat, your eyes water. He’s going to do it, he’s really going to steal your virginity. A dragon more than twice your size is mounting you!

“Please!” You shout your voice ringing out through serpentine maw. You feel his tentacle like members slipping under your tail, they lay heavily against your holes. Thankfully they feel wet…

“Beg for me, Little Queen!” the dragon’s voice is thunderous, you think that everyone in the world might hear your shame now. Your people certainly will.

“No!”

Two of his cocks wrap around eachother making a thick drill like shape. While his third lines up stiffly to your asshole, the other two start pushing into your vagina. You desperately flap your wings, until he grabs them and pulls hard, you feel your bones snapping, and scream into the sky.

You feel his heads press deeper and deeper, until something within you breaks, and your body convulses, blood spills even between your dragon thighs. You both spin in the air as you hurdle toward the volcanic ground below. His wings flap once and carry you through the air as he slides fully into you, his third entering your ass at the same time.

your pussy stretches to accommodate him, you suddenly feel so full all at once with the air rushing through your nostrils, you might pass out, but his claws around your sides tighten their grasp, waking you up instantly. No…

You will be shown no mercy.

tears fall down your scaled cheeks.

“Beg for me!”

His dicks drag against your walls, even through the whipping wind around you, you can hear the squelching as he fucks you. You don’t realize but he’s flown you both back to his castle, he lands on top of your body with you crashing into the ground cracking stone and sending a shockwave throughout the castle, and shaking the chandeliers above you.

You watch them sway behind him as he roars still inside of you, he cums. completely filling any crevice left. Just when you were about to sigh in relief he gets back to fucking you. Burying his dicks further inside of you, they hadn’t been all the way inside! His maw finds your shoulder and bites down, blood trickles down your arm.

He flips your significantly smaller body over, and presses a clawed hand on your bulging tummy as his dicks continue to pulverize you.

Until he grabs you by your sides and starts to use your body to fuck himself. Your body burns brighter and brighter until you’re convulsing around him and milking more cum from his still hard cocks pouring more semen inside you at the same time.

Milky white rings are building around his bases in both your holes, but he keeps cumming and using your body, he really does want to breed you! you claw the ground and try to get away again, he just pulls back harder, slamming your body back onto his cocks, it feels like he’s breaking into your cervix!

again he cums his cocks pulsing wildly inside of you, his growling is low, and his hips press as hard into you as physically possible. He pulls out after you cum again, and your body shakes violently needing respite.

you remain as silent as possible, and he returns as a human. He casts something at you that forces your body to twist and shrink until your form matches his, your tiny fleshy prison with the aesthetic matching everything that makes you, you. His over eight feet tall stature stands over you, making you, even as queen feel small and weak.

He grabs you, and pops a cork off of something, and forces a glass bottle into your open mouth. You try and shove him off of you, “It’s a health potion,” He laughs.

“As if I care!!” You’re naked and dripping his cum for the gods’ sakes! “I don’t want anything from you!”

“Youre lucky i don’t just eat you, little queen. i need a brood mother only so much.” He throws you onto the gigantic bed as your wounds are completely healed now, he approaches with a smirk. “These forms are so much fun to play in, aren’t they?”

[delulugirlulu]

Unraveled | Prologue: Taming the Chaos

Characters - Sylus x Reader, Sylus x Y/N

Word Count - 828

A/N - The fixation I have on Sylus is insane. Literal brain rot. If I’m being honest, I’ll admit that I’m probably—definitely—in love with him lol.

Anyway, this is a short series that I divided into 5 parts because that’s just who I am as a person. This will have a prologue, chapters 1 to 3, and then an epilogue. Idk, I just want it to have a beginning and an end like... an actual story. As if I’m telling their love story in summary and highlighting their first spicy encounter (this is basically the intro part, in a way) hehe.

And now, the story...

Sylus had always been the type of man who thrived in chaos, a storm incarnate. A wildness about him drew people in like moths to a flame, only to have them burned by the intensity of his gaze, the weight of his past. His red eyes, smoldering like molten embers, held the stories of a life spent walking the edge of danger, and his reputation precedes him—deadly but undeniably charismatic. From his hardened, chiseled exterior to the way he moved with effortless grace, Sylus was a man people warned others about. He had walls built so high, that not even the most daring souls tried to climb them.

Years of living on his terms, of rejecting conformity, had left him empty. He didn’t believe in things like love or redemption. Those were luxuries for people who hadn’t seen the kind of darkness he had. The kind of darkness that settled in your bones, in the parts of you you couldn’t wash clean.

Then Y/N came into his life.

It wasn’t like in the movies. There wasn’t a moment when the world slowed down or when time froze because of her beauty. It wasn’t her looks that first captured Sylus's attention, though she was undoubtedly beautiful in a natural, unassuming way. No, it was the way she carried herself—like a steady flame, burning quietly, unwavering amidst the chaos around her. There was no grand gesture, no dramatic entrance. She simply appeared one day, like a breeze slipping through a crack in a door, gentle yet unavoidable. She wasn’t a force, at least not in the way Sylus was used to. She didn’t demand change or make him feel cornered. Instead, she just existed in his orbit, always just close enough to remind him that there was something different, something better just within reach.

And that scared the hell out of him.

Y/N was the opposite of everything Sylus had ever known. Where he was rough, she was gentle. Where he brooded, she smiled. And where his life had been a series of fleeting, shallow connections, hers was a testament to loyalty, warmth, and depth. It didn’t take long for him to realize that she wasn’t just kind to be kind. There was a quiet strength about her, a resolve that radiated from her, even in the way she handled everyday tasks. He watched her from afar at first, intrigued by the simplicity of her actions—how she approached life with patience and joy that mystified him.

He’d tried to push her away—like he had with everyone who dared get too close—but Y/N didn’t budge. She didn’t flinch when he lashed out, didn’t retreat when he put up his walls. She simply… stayed. Not in a way that felt intrusive or desperate, but in a way that made him feel seen, not as the dangerous leader of Onichynus with a past he could never outrun, but as a man.

A man who, perhaps, deserved to be loved and to love—truly, madly, and without reserve.

At first, Sylus fought against the pull he felt towards her. It was instinct, after all. Love, to him, was just another way to be weak, another path to pain. He’d been down that road before, and it had nearly broken him. But Y/N wasn’t like anyone else he’d ever known. Her kindness wasn’t a ploy, her patience wasn’t a front. It was just who she was, and with every smile she aimed in his direction, every laugh that echoed in his ears, he felt something inside him crack, little by little.

Soon, resisting her became impossible.

The way she looked at him wasn’t out of fear or judgment. Her eyes, clear and sincere, saw through his defenses as if they weren’t even there. She didn’t ask him to change. She didn’t expect him to be anything other than who he was. But somehow, that made him want to be better—not just for her, but for himself.

The tension between them simmered, unspoken but undeniable. Every accidental touch, every stolen glance was charged with something more. Sylus had never experienced anything like it. With Y/N, he didn’t have to pretend. He didn’t have to play the role of the villain, he didn’t have to hide behind the mask of indifference he’d worn for so long. She accepted him for everything that he is, flaws and all, and for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to let go of the storm that had always raged inside him.

But the question remained—could he? Could he leave behind the chaos, the darkness that had shaped him? Or was he doomed to live in its shadow forever?

He didn’t know the answer. Not yet. But one thing was certain—Y/N wasn’t afraid of the storm that was Sylus. And maybe, just maybe, he was ready to let her be the calm after the chaos— one kiss, one touch, and one whispered promise at a time.

__________________________________________

Read this in order >>> [Prologue] [Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]

A/N - Also, if you’re curious, this is my first time writing smut (or writing stories in general for the public to see) and I’m not really a story writer—so I drafted this, got help with AI, proofread that shit, edited it, and posted. I do want to write more, learn and improve until AI help is no longer needed, please don’t burn me at the stake.

Feedbacks and comments are welcome! Just don’t be mean/rude or nasty in general because why the fuck would you ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

[therealslimshakespeare]

From Sarge’s kids I think I’m (as of now) excited to learn more about Daisy. She’s got a lot of Elvis in her and she witnesses Elaine go to hell and back to help him beat his addiction and although she’s independent I hope there’s gonna be someone who will be able to do the same for her or stand by her. Not to mention she’s got a twin who they come off as polar opposites (what with Rosalee being a huge Daddy’s girl) and her comments towards her older sister Ella’s marriage - I get the feeling there’s a lot to unpack there.

I think sometimes Elvis felt like he was too much to love and I see a lot of his personal insecurities in Daisy, she even is a popstar like him and that’s a lot of people loving you with maybe them feeling like they aren’t really known for who they are deep down.

I am so happy to hear this, I’ve got a little started on each kid’s own fic (I want one for each like I had for Jesse, just to establish them and then let loose with the intermingling) and I really think hers is compelling. It’s been truly a blast to get to know her and I’ve gotta be honest she may be the most Lisa-like of any Sarge kid in many ways, partly because she’s so Elvis incarnate. It took awhile but me and my scheming buddies have cooked up a good partner for her and she will always have her family as backup and even her godfather Marlon. I think she will, as you said, be publicly adored but can be rather offputting one on one, even though she desperately needs connection. I think eventually, and not after too long, all these relationships get far better, and Daisy finds her little nook in the family easily. She is the one to go to for the zero bullshit takes or help hiding a body. Loyal and fierce that one.

And here, since you made my day asking about her, have a little random snippet I’ve written about her first big debut recording which came from her rehab scribbles and, unfortunately for the family members her lyrics feature -becomes a sensation.

Era: 1978-9ish??

Warnings: moderate…mentions of past divorce, infidelity, a daughter sorta writing a hit tell all? remincence of a one off threesome and Elvis having straight man panic for it (I’m afraid this couple is polyamorous central I’m the 60’s but nothing explicit) big ole family chat with the grown kids, chaos as can be expected…

What about Wendy?

“Daisy Mae!” Elvis bellows her full name because the crime warrants it, and from behind him, her voice answers, not in person from her place sprawled on the couch but behind him, coming through the stereo in a clear cadence that his creative side must acknowledge is skilled and evocative. What Elvis doesn't find so praiseworthy is his Dear Daughter hanging the family laundry out for all to see with lyrics like:

—“So I'll lock the window and turn on the AC, You'll throw your rocks, and you'll scream that you hate me, But it gets old being forever 20, And what about my wings? What about Wendy?”—

out on a clothesline for all the world to commentate on his failings and his marriage.

The music video coming out tomorrow on MTV, teased as featuring a fresh faced Daisy in a montage of her mother’s most iconic looks -including that secretive wedding gown so few of the nation ever saw, rather hammers home the not so subtle point. As far as Elvis is concerned this is about as disloyal as it gets.

And he is having none of it.

“It’s art, Daddy.” Daisy murmurs, utterly unphased by the hurricane of wrath she can match once she gets that cup of coffee Rosalee is making her.

“Is this how you see us?” Elvis demands and Jesse winces to the side, things had been going so smoothly after Danny was born but lord, the Presley’s just can’t manage to be calm for long, Daisy had to record that stupid black book she scribbled in during rehab and, my does it have some choice takes on the events of the last decade. “This how you see your childhood?” Elvus goes on, “Where we loved ya like no one’s ever loved any kids and gave ya everythin’ and-“

“-and slammed a buncha doors in between.“ Daisy shrugs, not meaning to be cruel, but it’s the truth and she’s never had her sibling’s affinity for the affection that the rest of the kids take as blood money for the insanity they got put through. Daisy doesn't hold a grudge against anyone for her childhood, in fact, she’s thankful for the writing material. But she’s not gonna be sorry for writing shit as it was.

Which was mama playing a haggard Wendy while Daddy flitted in and out of the window at whim like Peter Pan.

“Girl,” her daddy begs her to understand as he takes his seat next to her on the sofa, big ringed hand familiar and pleading on her bony knee, as if somehow this appeal of his will lock the song back into her diary and out of the radio -or maybe he doesn’t care about his reputation anymore, he’s gotten lax about that after the divorce, maybe he really is seeking after his child’s good opinion this time when he continues, “I’m all for art’n’shit but have I not taught ya nothin’ bout-“

“Daddy, ya didn’t even write your own songs.” Daisy gently tries to get him to see the difference in their art but Jesse gasps out in horror:

“Daisy!!” like she just shot their father instead of stating the truth. Which is kinda her problem with her family, they can’t take straight facts.

“Alright, alright then,” Elvis simmers a bit but his tone is restrained as he presses his point, “so ya write from the heart and ya wrote about life, I get ya. So then why’d you call mama Wendy when, w-w-when she’s -she’s my Tinkerbell?”

“You’d rather I used your pet little name in public?” Daisy scoffs at his muddled logic and feels bad for the first time after -soon as his brow furrows in genuine hurt. Daddy loves mama, he loves her again like a new man and Daisy doesn’t get how that works but it’s the truth and she’s got no fight to pick with the truth. It makes her admit with a shrug, “I used it ‘cause Marlon always says she’s Wendy.”

You could hear a pin drop the way everyone’s chatter in the living room stops, even the coffee maker stops spluttering in the distance and it’s highly likely Jesse isn’t even breathing as everyone’s head’s swivel, Daddy’s slower but more intent than any, to look at Elaine where’s she sits in the white arm chair, blanket cast over her where Danny fell asleep while nursing. She’s as white as the rocker she sits in.

“Oh does he now?” Elvis rumbles and Daisy feels the unintentional bite of his nails on her knee.

“Well yeah, he does and -always has.” Daisy insists as if the past and present existence of Brando’s opinions on Elvis’ wife makes shit any better, Daisy knows it the second she lets it out that it’s not exactly balm on the scab.

Her voice doesn't make anyone look away from mama and her perfect, frozen face, carefully neutral and soothingly disinterested in the topic.

“That man has only ever called me, Elaine.” mama laughs an airy, dismissive little thing and the bite of Daddy’s rings on Daisy’s knee loosens their grip. “And if he thinks i'm a Wendy -he should say it to my face.” she jokes and Jesse predictably lets out a pained laugh of solidarity.

“-A-a-and w-who the hell did ya get to sew all those recreated outfits, girl?” Daddy is suddenly back on the original topic with a burst of renewed incredulity at her gall and Daisy knows she can use this to her advantage, get him arguing about fashion, tailors and supporting local folks instead of berating her for her lyrics and-

-Ella watches as Elaine’s stiff face smoothes into relief and she lays her head back against the rocker’s cushion and closes her eyes against the hubbub that’s no longer pertinent to her. Not for the first time Ella wonders if mama is as burdened as she is with thoughts and feelings married women shouldn’t have, they really shouldn’t. Marriage should cure a woman of them but Ella had them all alone on the ranch with her husband gone and Mama had Marlon and his lingering looks and her frozen face whenever his name gets mentioned and mama who is staring up at the ceiling like she’s no longer in the room with them at all.

“Peter Pan, Peter Pan, little lost boy actin’ like a big man,” only Marlon could have made that rhyme sound like anything but a goad, only Marlon really saw what Elaine saw when Elvis was sated, pliable, sweet as a newborn and pretty a sin. “Those producers who’ve got him playin’ tough n’ shit don’t know his appeal, they just don’t get it. Goddamn Peter Pan.”

And he had run his fingers over Elvis’ face, catching his drooping eyelids and pulling them down and over his nose to those cherub lips. And Elvis’ eyes hadn’t opened again till next morning when he woke in angry panic.

Elaine stares at the ceiling and feels Danny shift against her breast, snuggling closer, and she wonders if Elvis ever recalls that night like she does. Ever replays it a million times.

Wendy, Wendy Wendy.

Marlon thinks she’s Wendy, Marlon’s told her own daughter that. But never her. No. He’d just raked his hand through the wrecked coiff of Elvis’ gelled hair and admiringly called him Peter Pan. And Elvis, being Elvis in the state of freshly loved and freshly praised, never balked at it before drifting to sleep in their muggy tent.

Wendy, Wendy, Wendy, he never called Elaine that to her face.

Elaine catches Daisy’s eye next time she looks away from the ceiling, an odd moment of recognition. Funny how each child knows a part of her, but it’s the inner workings of Daisy’s curious, generous, honest self -a heart so very like Elvis’ own- that can look back at Elaine and smile at her, while knowing her fully, faults and all. It’s not so bad having grown daughters as a friend, Elaine decides as she watches Elvis flail backwards against the couch to laugh at his daughter's good natured dig at his unmodified wardrobe.

It’s good not to be his only Wendy keeping him young anymore.

Song based on: Wendy by Maisie Peters

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[strawberrypinky]

fire and ice. [gortash x tav] - part one [of tyranny and chaos]

Enver had rarely been wrong about people throughout his rise to power, yet Elodie Liardon was the gift that kept on giving. She was his equal in every way & he would go through to great lengths to ensure she'd be at his side when the world became his.

Unfortunately for him, she wasn't as easily convinced.

A/N: I think it goes without saying that I don't support or endorse anything Gortash does in this story. He's a terrible person & evil. That said, he's hot & this is also my first time writing a villain as the main character - I am not yet sure where this story is going to head in certain aspects. The warnings are subject to change, so make sure to check them out as this story progresses. This story may feature non con down the line. Also, I'm not an expert in DnD lore – a lot of this is based on my own research & interpretations & I'm taking a few creative liberties with this story, e.g. the Council of Four. Canonically, the Council of Four consist of Ulder Ravengard (Wyll's father), Dillard Portyr, Belynne Stelmane and Thalamra Vanthampur. For the sake of this story, Vanthampur is replaced with Thamior Liardon aka our heroine's father. The age difference between Elodie and Enver is fairly large. She is about Wyll's age when the canon events start (24), whereas I headcanon Enver to be around 40 years old. This chapter takes place about five years before the canon events, making Elodie 19 and Enver 35. You can also read this story on Archive of Our Own This chapter serves as an introduction to both Elodie and Enver. Shoutout to @gufu-vire for giving me some serious dialogue inspiration & supporting this messy project from the start 💕 And of course shoutout to my platonic soulmate @legacygirlingreen. I couldn't do any of this without you girl 💕 Word Count: 7k

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

Ordinarily, Enver enjoyed the splendour of the Upper City and the extravaganza of what the night brought. 

It wasn't that he particularly cared for exuberant soirees or merriment among the Patriars and Lords of Baldur's Gate, but because the ceaseless inebriation meant they all became cursory - revealing their Achilles Heel to Enver on a silver platter.

All that was left to do for him was shoot and observe as they crumpled beneath their fragmented invulnerability. 

He had long learned not to underestimate the value of thinly veiled threats and carefully curated negotiations. Enver's upbringing in Avernus had ensured at least that much. It had been a miserable existence at best, though the unyielding fists of Nubaldin and the narcissistic ornery of Raphael were better described as castigatory crucifixion, and for the longest time, he had been sure he'd succumb to it. The bloodied and blazing wastelands of Avernus were scarcely the sight any sane being would wish to wake up to, but for a near decade, Enver had been greeted by rivulets of lava and barren hills whenever he had opened his eyes to the unending torment of the House of Hope and while the lavish grandeur of Raphael's home would forever outshine most of the Patriars estates, it could never hide the insanity that transpired within its walls. An existence surrounded by infernal creatures was a fickle thing, rarely monotonous as the days had bled into one. Sleep had been a scarce rarity to come by as screams of tortured souls and beggars and the everlasting sonorousness of the Blood War penetrated even into the dungeons of the paradoxical House of Hope. It was madness incarnate, and Enver would nearly count himself as fortunate not to have gone mad.

Yet, in his most forlorn and reticent moments, there was a mocking voice in his head, a reminder that the abject terrors of Avernus had rendered him just as mad and just as hateful. His mother would have likely argued he had always been a hateful little wretch, having loathed his entire existence from the second he had taken his first breath after the agonising three-day labour he had "put her through".  Perhaps she had been right. He was so very full of it. 

Enver came to think of his hatred as his strength, his source of being and the flame that drove him forward - A testament to his unwavering determination and resilience.

When he had escaped Avernus, coughing up sulfur and ash, it was hatred which drove his acts. For as much as his hatred had grown like a malignant tumour in Raphael's clutches, it had been useless until his eyes flickered over the poverty-stricken streets of the Lower City. 

His hatred proved incredibly useful when he was penniless, toiling under the Zhentarim's thumb. It was a thankless venture, but it kept him off the streets.At the very least, it also provided a start to more extraordinary things. 

And it was his hatred which fuelled his Lord, the one God who deigned to answer when all others had long forsaken him. 

His mother once worshipped Gond and while his father never expressed favour for any of them, Enver had espied prayer to Waukeen more than once. Enver cared for neither. He hadn't cared for any of them – until Bane.

His God had sensed his hatred, strengthened it, and it served him exceptionally. For all their faults and arrogance, the Zhentarim had chosen their patron correctly. Bane was wholly malevolent —  hatred incarnate. Enver had long understood that the weak were culled and ruled by the strong, and Bane only strengthened Enver's resolve to establish his rightful place as the mighty. He had pledged to never be weak again. To never feel fear as he had when his parents had sold him, but to make others fear his might alone. He had pledged to never be the snotty, heaving child again, fearfully wailing for his parents as Nubaldin's fist hit him over and over again. Gone was the child Enver Flymm.

Through Bane, Enver Gortash was born.

And through him, Enver Gortash would rise like a phoenix from the ashes until the world was his, and his subjects would tremble in fear of his God as they were destined to be.

With Bane, it had been almost frighteningly easy to oust the Zhentarim from the weapon market to take control over the entirety of the Chinonthar Valley black market, but his hatred demanded more with each passing second. No matter which ventures Enver took upon, he succeeded – his loathing endless and his greed all-consuming. 

Perhaps in another life, Enver would have felt fulfilled, escaping from the Hells.

Perhaps in another life, he would have been content with leading the weapons trade.

In this life, he knew he'd never be. Sated, perhaps, when all bowed before his glorious might. But certainly never satisfied. 

The gentility of Baldur's Gate understood him well enough, even if they buried it deep beneath false charity and fascicle philanthropy. Beneath the masks they had carefully curated, they were all as spiteful as him. They all craved control over one another to assert themselves as the leaders they had made themselves out to be. Extravagant soirees, glittering jewels and extortionate gossip defined their haughty measuring of dicks. It was an ecosystem in and of itself, one which was all too easy to mould once the first step had been taken. It had taken a few years of sweet-talking, of extorting and of fucking them, but Enver was nothing if not patient. He was one of them now, and hardly anything else mattered but the next step. It was why he attended these lavish parties in the first place, even when his mood had been sour for the better part of the day.

The bitch queen's waveservants had distracted his sailors, and while Enver knew they hadn't half of his wits, he had expected they could think with their smooth brains instead of their minuscule dicks. A mistake on his part, really. As a result of their inadequacy his cargo had been seized and half his posse incarcerated. Far from uncommon in his line of work, but it was troublesome just the same. 

After an entire day of  negotiating  for their (undeserved) freedom, Enver had half a mind to drown himself in Arabellan Dry. Unfortunately for him, it was the night of  The Breaking,  and his attendance was crucial.  The Rah of Baldur's Gate was rarely  ever  found in a gathering this grand,  and it provided ample opportunity for Enver to further his ambitions.  

The moment he stepped through the grand, gilded doors of High Hall, he was enveloped by a cacophony of drunken laughter and chattering. The glittering melody of an orchestra filled the halls, a sickeningly joyous melody commemorating the arrival of spring. The air was perfumed with a fragrant blend of expensive cologne and plum prosecco. Enver had wrinkled his nose in distaste. The awful concoction was a true scourge these days. He could only hope some Baldur's Grape was available, too. Otherwise, this would be an arduous night.

There was a faint and underlying mustiness to the halls, the gallery illuminated by twinkling chandeliers casting an ethereal glow over the old halls. The decor was befitting the occasion — elegant pieces of silver and sage adorn the room's tables, ceilings, and elaborate mouldings. The flower arrangements were fragrant and intricate, likely having cost a fortune. It was opulent, borderline garish – utterly characteristic of the Upper City and its residents.

It was within this opulence Enver first saw her.

He had spent the better part of the night speaking to associates and... investors in his business ventures – a dance or two with a lady of noble birth in between. Their coquettish smiles were charming, though their personalities were as bland as a slice of stale bread. Enver never understood how some could be that dull and daft when they had endless funds at their disposal. If he were a better person, he'd pity them. Alas, he drowned his exasperation instead. He was far from drunk, but at the very least, the endless yapping had become tolerable.

His eyes wandered over the crowds, most delightfully inebriated, as Sir Provoss chewed his ear off about some venture Enver was invested in. He hardly listened; the Provoss family was near destitute and of no value to him. Within the sea of people, he noticed a glimpse of something silvery and shimmering, a horde of young ladies not far as they looked in the same direction and gossiped animatedly. Their gazes were full of disdain and haughtiness. Enver knew that hatred well - he had been on the receiving end of it long enough himself. His insatiable curiosity propelled him forward as he observed the rare display of disdain from the young noblewomen. With a quick excuse, he approached to catch a glimpse of a young elven woman standing beside Duke Dillard Portyr. The older man appeared to be engaged in a lively conversation with her.

Enver's first thought was that she was magnificent. Beautiful. Alluring.

Silvery locks had been intricately swept up in an updo, with carefully coiled curls framing her delicate features as they gleamed in the light. Her face, petite and exquisitely angular, was adorned with elegantly high cheekbones that gracefully complemented her ivory skin. Shell-pink lips were curled into a pleasant smile, and her eyes were such a striking green that Enver was almost disarmed for a second as he glanced at them. She wasn't tall, but she held herself with a regality Enver had scarcely seen from the most noble houses of Baldur's Gate.

It was easy to see why she was regarded with such disdain. These noblewomen who regarded her with such disdain could only hope to mimic a fraction of her beauty and breathtaking allure.

A pearly gown draped elegantly against her small figure; the delicate and intricate stitching along the hem only further enhanced her beauty. A Debutante, Enver noted. Rich by the looks of it, too.

A sly grin placed itself on his face.

Young, naive and likely wealthy beyond measure – Exactly the kind of woman he could play for a fool before he played her family for funds. It was a game he had played often. For all their money and education, these noblewomen all succumbed to the lie of love far too quickly. Disgracing might have been cruel, but their families were all too keen to pay hush money, so at least they'd appear virginal.

"Duke Portyr," Enver spieled, his voice full of false enthusiasm.

The Duke and the young woman beside him turned their faces to him.

"Sir Gortash," Portyr greeted him equally enthusiastically. He was the one Duke on the Council Enver had always been able to wrap around his finger. The man was anything but a genius. Ravengard had always dismissed him and Stelmane... well, whenever she was coherent enough to conduct meaningful business, she seemed to tolerate Enver, though apparently her business interests were in conflict with his.

The last of them, Duke Liardon, Enver had met merely three times. The man was reclusive, though popular and reminded Enver of the worst times of his life.

Enver quickly shook the memory of their first meeting from his mind. He could not afford to falter now.

"Wonderful to see you tonight," Enver cleared his throat.

"Likewise, likewise, my boy. Enjoying yourself?"

Enver internally rolled his eyes. He was not a boy. He was a Lord, an inventor, a trader - an instrument of tyranny. Yet he said, "Of course", with a smile on his face.

"Why, have you met Lady Elodie yet?" the demented Duke suddenly said, turning to the side as he pointed towards the true object of Enver's attention. The young woman looked at him intently, her gaze sharp and calculating. She was focused. Vigilant. Beneath her pleasant smile, she was assessing him as much as he had assessed her.

A surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

"I have not," Enver answered, his eyes not leaving hers.

The young woman held out her hand, as polite company would, and Enver placed a chaste kiss upon it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elodie."

"The pleasure is all mine, Sir Gortash." Her voice was gentle and as delicate and airy as she appeared. A melodic lilt, carried like a breeze - warm and kind. And yet there was a measurement to her words, a precise calculation, each word enunciated as precise as they were rhythmic.

"You see, Elodie, Sir Gortash is an excellent man for business," Duke Portyr spoke. "Most excellent, in fact."

"I'm certain he is," Elodie spoke, her vigilant eyes not leaving Envers. "Weaponry, I'm guessing?"

Enver had to swallow his astonishment. Whoever she was, she was far more keen than he had expected.

"Among other things," Enver confirmed with a nod. He did not appreciate her control, but her intelligence? Perhaps that was even more intriguing than her beauty. He could respect it even, but control? He would always love that above all.

"May I have your next dance?" He asked. A young debutante should be easily swayed by flirtatious advances, no matter how intelligent.

"I would be delighted."

"Excellent."

As genteel as ever, Enver held out his arm for her to take, her nimble fingers settling in the crook of his arm as he led her to the grand dancefloor. A lively waltz was playing, the cadence of the song joyful as people danced the night away around the odd couple. Enver could see various men glancing his way, their eyes full of envy. It made him smile deviously. A blind eunuch would probably still get a boner with a woman like that – she was oh so ravishing. And he had gotten her first. Jealousy was, in Enver's humble opinion, second to only hatred. If they envied him and what he had, they would hate him too. And in hatred, they'd bow to him and his Lord.

"Are you new to Baldur's Gate, Lady Elodie?" Enver asked as the pair began to waltz among the rest. "Forgive me if I am being bold, but a woman with your beauty would have long caught my eye."

She laughed - an earnest but musical sound. A blush placed itself on her cheeks.

As expected, Enver thought. The noblewomen all fell to the same folly.

"I was born in the Gate, Sir Gortash. I was... fortunate enough to travel Toril for a while. I returned recently."

"Indeed?" A well-travelled woman - certainly explained why she seemed far more educated than the rest of the lot. "Have you been enjoying your return to the city then?"

"Just so," she smiled at him as they spun around. His hand was firmly placed on her waist as he led her, warmth seeping through to his fingers. So close to her, he could smell her, and it was as exquisite as the rest of her. Luxurious notes of bergamot, freesia and mandarin assaulted his senses, with something sweet simmering beneath. Jasmine, perhaps? Whatever soap she used, it must have been expensive. Whoever her family was, they must have been at the top of the food chain.

"Though I hardly believe you asked me to dance to ask me about the Gate."

"You're quite perceptive, aren't you?"

"Just so," she grinned again, mischief flickering behind her eyes. "Or perhaps I have met your sort before."

Enver could not help the indignant snort that escaped him. No matter what she may have seen on her travels, he would bet his entire estate that she had never come across a soul like his.

"And what sort would that be, hm?" Enver teased. "I am but a partiar with a penchant for weaponry."

"Are you trying to insult your own intelligence or mine?" she quipped with a teasing lilt to her voice. "Your garments alone tell me you crave to be accepted as their own, and the shadows under your eyes are deep enough to let me know you hardly sleep. I don't suppose you call yourself an inventor too?"

Enver blinked in surprise, his mind failing him for a second as they continued to dance. This was a first. Never once before had he met a woman so stunningly beautiful and equally intelligent. A lethal combination if there ever was one. It was disarming.

"My garments?" he slowly spoke after a while. He wore something of equal luxury as she did - a bespoke suit, tailored to perfection of obsidian colour and embroidered with fine golden thread.

"You are compensating," she stated with a matter-of-fact voice. "It's a fine quality ensemble, but the embroidery is borderline garish. A man who grew up with abundant wealth would hardly wear this. You worked yourself to the wealth you have. I can only assume this means you are exceptionally smart as well."

If he hadn't been so impressed, Enver would have been livid. How dare you? He wanted to shout. He wasn't compensating. He had earned his right to wear finery, and he would be damned if he did not make full use of it. Instead, he only gave her a strained, near-mocking laugh. After all, she had correctly assumed he was smart.

"My my. You are full of surprises, aren't you?"

"I'd like to think so."

"Right then. Let me return the favour," Enver offered.

"By all means."

He resumed his assessment of her. The gears in his mind turned endlessly, solving endless puzzles as they presented themselves to him. She had surprised him tonight, a mistake he would not make again. Enver knew people - understood them and their wants before they understood themselves. An ability which had served him well. Her gaze, beneath the smile, remained calculating, a mask to conceal something deeper. She was a problem waiting to be solved, and Enver guessed no one ever had. His mind could fixate on problems like that — anything, really — and not let go. Controlling one element of the world meant a step closer to whole tyranny. It meant his certain keep from ruin. A bad habit, perhaps, that blinded him to other things that could harm him. A tendency towards obsession was hardwired into his brain and would have likely been his undoing if he hadn't learned to outsmart it.

"You crave to be known," Enver ventured to guess. Her breath hitched almost imperceivably, and Enver smirked. His gut had never failed him.

"You know you are beautiful. That men desire you. But you want to be known for who you are rather than your body. You crave for someone to uncover the deepest parts of your soul," his voice had reduced to a mere whisper now, blowing in her ear. "You want more, Elodie. Whether that someone is a challenge or an equal."

She blinked at him, her cheeks flushing now. Enver was sure that if he had placed a hand on her chest, he could have felt her heart beating erratically. She might have him figured out, but two could play that game. They had created a strange tableau that night in the ballroom: nefarious man, enigmatic woman, lavishly grandiose ballroom. It suggested a tale that could only end in tragedy or ruin, but Enver had always defied destiny. They could be good for each other.

"I can see why you are such a success," she chuckled, almost nervously.

"I simply exercise control in all things, Lady Elodie."

"Hm, one might think that's borderline tyrannical," she mused.

To a normal person, that might have been an insult, but to a man like Enver, who worshipped at the feet of Bane, it possibly was the best compliment he'd ever get.

"Perhaps," Enver chuckled. "But it serves me well."

"Careful, Sir Gortash," Elodie quipped. "You almost sound like a Banite."

Perceptive little thing, Enver wanted to laugh. He almost wished to inflict penance upon himself for having underestimated her so severely. She was beautiful, sure. But what worth held beauty in a woman if there were no brains to match? At best, she'd be a nice fuck, but never an equal or better yet - a wife. Enver would never dare to sully his line with offspring from a daft hussy - not that Bane would allow him to, either. His God demanded perfection; Elodie might just have been that. She was, quite frankly, up to his standards. Perhaps the woman in his arms wasn't vicious or hateful like him, but she was machiavellian and astute, qualities Enver knew Bane valued.

He tried to imagine her clad in obsidian silk or the deepest emerald wool money could buy, warped in Bane's embrace, and Enver decided he liked it. She suited his God, was possibly even worthy of his blessing if she could understand the tranquillity his tyranny would bring and follow in his name. Enver wagered she could, especially if someone could convince her of its worth and who better to convince her than him? Enver silently wondered how big of a challenge she would be, for her innate craving to be known was something he could give her better than any other man ever could, yet she did not appear as a woman who liked to be tamed. The longer Enver held her, the more he recognised that beneath the elegance and allure, there was something wild and untamable - something feral.

She could be his equal in tyranny - an invaluable asset.

"Bane is a God like any other, Lady Elodie. He rewards those willing to make sacrifices in the name of power. Sacrifices which not everyone will make." Enver mused. Her immediate face of contempt amused him. "You're not a fan, I take it?"

"Hardly," she pursed her lips. "I fail to see both the value and the right in tyranny."

"A strong word for what some might consider the natural order. The weak have always been ruled by the strong few."

"And yet nothing constitutes that right," Elodie countered, devotion in her eyes. "None have the right to decide another's fate or to enact punishment, no matter if by the hand of a God or the sheer circumstance of fortune. Nothing does."

Altruism - how much Enver detested it. He supposed it was a marker of her young age, for no matter how well-travelled she was, her brain would lack in experience and instead make up for it in idealism and heroism. He supposed he had thought like that himself once before Nubaldin and Raphael had beat it out of him until nothing but hate and the certainty that absolutism would always rule those too feeble for it. There would always be a power above them, ruling with an iron fist. Enver had long understood it was better to be that power, to wield it, instead of succumbing to it.

He was confident Elodie would learn that lesson, too.

"And how would you propose to rule chaos then, hm?"

"Chaos?" Her voice did not hide her incredulity.

"Chaos," Enver confirmed. "No control, no law, no gods, no government at all. Where do you go from there? What sort of agreement is necessary if everyone is to live in peace? What social contract is needed so that everyone is taken care of?"

She mulled over it for a while, the gears in her head turning as the pair spun around the ballroom. She seemed to genuinely consider his question, though Enver did not know where her mind strayed. Would it come to the same conclusion he had long accepted? That in chaos, each mortal, with their own individual agenda, could only cause friction, conflict and war? Humanity was a flaw, and in the chaos of Avernus was the first time he saw it undressed. In turmoil, civilisation disappeared; every august manner and act was stripped away in the blink of an eye. Chaos would always reveal everything a person was - that humanity's greatest flaw was humanity itself. A peaceful existence could only exist if they bowed to a collective agenda - his agenda, preferably - and when finally they'd bow to him in fear, perhaps they might find a semblance of peace.

"You are a curious man, Sir Gortash," Elodie hummed after a while. "I don't think I have ever met an enigma such as you."

"I will take that as a compliment," Enver chuckled as he spun her around once again.

The melody of the song came to its grand finale, every couple spinning as they prepared for it to end. Glittering twirls and heaving breaths accompanied the soaring crescendo before, after long, the orchestra had quieted, and each couple bowed and curtsied in respect before either gathering themselves for another dance or leaving the floor altogether. Enver gently led Elodie away, hoping to perhaps continue their conversation over some wine. It was rare a person caught his interest beyond business - the last was a Bhaalspawn and he still wasn't entirely sure how much he could trust them. After all, their masters were not only at odds, but they had been created for nothing but slaughter, and Enver wasn't asinine enough to pretend he was the exception.

"It's getting rather late," Eloide mused.

"You've yet to answer my question," Enver mentioned with faux casualty, though internally, he was burning with curiosity.

"Delayed gratification is not denial, Sir Gortash," a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "I shall bid you good night."

Gracefully, she spun around, shimmering in the glowing light before she disappeared into the crowds, leaving Enver Gortash speechless for perhaps the first time in his life.

The second time Enver saw Elodie, it had been in the same corridors of High Hall, though the decor had long been removed, and the orchestra was no longer enchanting Patriars. Parliament was supposed to be in session later that day, and Enver had been summoned by Duke Portyr to discuss further commerce strategies as the Tymanther-Unther War continued to disrupt the trade between the nations. It was a tiresome issue, and if someone would have asked him his opinion, Enver would have bombed the Tymanthan armies a long time ago. The old empire of Unther was far from his favourite places in Faerûn, but their gold and iron were unfortunately far too valuable to lose in the long run.

Alas, Duke Ravengard had outright rejected to provide any militia, which had upped the price of metals exponentially - much to Enver's ire.

Porytr was a dimwitted oaf he had always been able to control, but unfortunately, the Duke was simply that. A Duke. The commander of the Flaming Fist on his side would have been much preferable for Enver, but it was merely a matter of time before Ravengard perished, whether that be in battle or due to an uprising among the Gate's citizens. Gorion's Ward, the hero who had saved the realm from Bhaal once, had not been spared - a mere commander of the Flaming Fist was replaced within a breath. Enver had considered assassination more than once; the Bhaalspawn turned his personal assassin would have been more than up for it, possibly even knelt at his feet for allowing such carnage and chaos to be sown. However, Bhaal and Bane's truce was fragile enough - further straining their relationship by using Bhaal's greatest design would have been an insult to the deity Enver was not keen to make. He had made a great deal of enemies; he did not need to add the God of Murder to the list.

As Enver sashayed around the Ducal Palace piano tunes accompanied his steps. Curious, he thought. There was nary a day the pianos were used, unless the halls were used for lavish parties and as far as Enver knew, there were none held anytime soon. As his luck would have it the sound carried itself from somewhere near the ducal offices, thus Enver indulged his curiosity and followed the melody as it carried itself through the musty halls.

He was both bewildered and pleased when he saw Elodie again.

The young woman had hardly left his mind in the aftermath of the Breaking, and yet not a single person had spotted her since. Enver had half a mind to ask Porytr for the young maiden's full name, for the oaf seemed to at least know who she was, which could not be said the rest of the Partriars. She was a complete mystery, and mysteries had, regrettably, a way of driving people utterly mad. No matter how well Enver tried to outsmart his own humanity, he, too, fell folly to the same desire of uncovering the truth.

He observed her for a while; watched as her nimble fingers glided over the piano keys. He had recognised the tune then - a Cormanthyran hymn from times long ago, first come into creation as the Seven Citadels' War had ended and Elves had rejoiced of peace returning to their lands. Enver did not know the name, for the Elvish tongue was foreign to him, but he knew of it as an Ode to Freedom, heroism and eventual triumph as people came together to be good. Enver silently wondered if she had known he would be there or if she had chosen the piece by chance (even if he did not believe that himself).

"You are full of surprises, Lady Elodie," Enver revealed his presence as the final note echoed within the halls.

If she had been beautiful in the dim and glimmering light of the Breaking, Enver supposed she was ethereal as the sun illuminated her skin and her hair, cascading down in gentle waves to the middle of her back shimmered in the golden light.

"Oloth elgg ssussun," the elvish sounded like a prayer spilt from her lips. "Have you any idea what that means, Sir Gortash?"

"I'm afraid I speak no elvish," he divulged, curiously awaiting where this conversation would lead.

"Darkness drowns out light," she smiled as she turned to face him. "You asked how I would govern chaos."

So she had not forgotten - Enver was almost giddy as he awaited her answer with feigned lassitude. He had damn near longed to hear her answer after she had disappeared from his clutches.

"I have indeed," he chuckled.

"My mother saw the piano as a means to control the chaos in me," the young woman began to muse. "She had hoped that dexterous fingers would curb the less dexterous approach I had to... other things."

The gears in Enver's mind began turning rapidly again as he assessed the vexing smile on her lips. She was toying with him, possibly even enjoying laying out the puzzle pieces to her innermost self. He could venture to guess what she was; the feral nature that had always simmered just beneath was the answer all along.

"You're a Sorcerer, aren't you?"

She nodded in confirmation, her smile widening a fraction on her face.

"My parents were rather frightened when I set fire to my maid's skirts at the mere age of eight," a small chuckle escaped her. "I was uncontrolled. Chaos incarnate, one might say. And you know what only amplified the chaos?"

"I suppose you are about to enlighten me." He was intrigued now, clinging onto her words as if each and every one was vitally important.

"Control. The more my parents tried to control it - the further they tried to suppress what I was - the worse the chaos became. People are a lot like that, you know?" she hummed appreciatively, head somewhere between there and the clouds. She was staring into nowhere, a faraway look in her eyes as if remembering times long past. Enver supposed she did.

"Either way," she sighed after a few seconds, "control, tyranny, is not the answer to ensure peace."

"Then what is?" Enver asked, slowly stepping closer. He wasn't entirely sure why he had asked - he knew full well he would neither approve the answer nor even think it sensical. But, perhaps, she had been just impressive enough for him to bother and young enough to believe he could influence her. Change her. For all the men and women he had bedded, betrayed and deceived, none had ever offered a semblance of a challenge or semi-equal wit, and it was both pleasant and addicting to have it in her.

"There isn't a need to govern chaos, much less to suppress it," she smiled gently. "There is beauty in it, and it is part of us human beings as much as it is of our greatest problems and most eloquent solutions."

Enver suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and laugh in her face. There was no beauty in chaos or much less revelry, and while he agreed that chaos was innately human, he would never dare describe it as beautiful. Chaos did not provide any eloquent solutions but caused endless problems, which in turn only caused suffering. Her youthful, altruistic nature was nearly adorable - how delightful it would be for him to turn it around. He did savour a challenge, after all.

"I see," Enver nodded. "So your idea of a government is for it to do nothing."

"No," Elodie frowned. "Besides, you -"

Their conversation was cut short as the grand oak doors leading to the ducal offices opened, and Duke Portyr and Duke Liardon stepped out with grim looks and hastened steps. Whatever previous meetings they had been in - and Enver assumed it was trade-related, as most things were these days - it likely wasn't fruitful or congenial, which meant he would have to amplify his charms if he wanted to convince the oaf Portyr of the vision he held for the Tymanther-Unther War. He scrutinised the two men as they prattled in hushed voices, tension clear on their faces as both looked near furious at the other, the vexation bubbling just beneath the surface. A peculiar sight, Enver noted, yet he continued to observe, hoping the already visible tension would translate itself into something further - as it always threatened to.

From the handful of encounters Enver had with Duke Thamior Liardon, he had gathered that the man was as stoic as can be, deep brown eyes constantly assessing and calculating as he carefully observed those around him. For an elf, the man was rather tall and imposing, and while his rather charitable ventures made him a somewhat popular fellow among Baldurians, Duke Liardon was possibly the single person in this plane Enver could never quite make sense of. He knew the Duke had engaged in ignoble dealings and immoral trades, the man's history strangely interwoven with Enver's own and yet neither had ever mentioned it to the other. To know of the truth, to be conscious of another reality while dancing around carefully constructed tales had created a strange diorama between the men who otherwise did not engage with each other, though Enver anticipated the day he finally put Duke Liardon in his rightful place.

To repudiate morality while laying claim to it was one thing, though Enver did not care for liars. But a man who dealt with devils, no matter how beloved a politician, was no man he would protect when he inevitably rose above them. It was yet another process of arduous and ultimate subtlety in his ambition, his destiny, to be absolute.

"Papa," the girl next to him cleared her throat before she took assured steps towards Duke Liardon.

The two Dukes finally ceased their conversation, quick, easy and strained smiles placing themselves on their faces as Elodie approached them. Papa? Enver wondered for a brief second, though he wished to self-flagellate himself when he finally saw it. Of course - how could he have not seen it before?

He had felt the presence of nobility, understood she was wealthy beyond most people's means - she even looked like him. It was uncanny now that the girl stood in front of her father.

Enver Gortash, nee Flymm, rarely ever got excited, but that particular moment was something else entirely. Enver watched with sharp eyes as perhaps the most significant opportunity in his life arose - a culmination of years of hard work, careful planning and, in this case, sheer dumb luck.

Elodie - no longer an elusive noblewoman but the daughter of a Duke.

"Duke Portyr, Duke Liardon," Enver greeted the men. "How wonderful to see you."

"Likewise, Gortash," Thamior nodded curtly, his voice clipped as he mustered Enver. "I wasn't aware we were expecting company in the ducal offices today."

"I invited him," Portyr retorted. "We were to discuss some ... commerce strategies."

"Ah," the elven Duke nodded. "I see."

"I wasn't aware you were active in the political landscape, Sir Gortash," Elodie cut in, a curious look on her face as she retrenched this new information.

Before Enver could answer her, her father cut in, an incredulous "You know him?" spilling from the collected Duke's lips. It was the first time Enver had seen the barest hint of emotion on the man's face. He stored that information away immediately. Knowing the Achilles Heel of another was always valuable, particularly for a Duke who shamelessly bargained with infernal beings without so much as an ounce of contrition. Not that Enver was any better.

"We met at the Breaking," Enver explained with a small nod.

"I actually introduced them," Portyr exclaimed happily. "They were rather dashing on the dancefloor if I do say so myself." Enver nearly snorted as he glanced at the barest hint of displeasure and ire on Thamior Liardon's face. Achilles Heel, indeed.

"I wasn't aware matchmaking was an area of your expertise, Dillard."

The Duke laughed dismissively, the sound echoing through the grand halls of the ancient halls. "Your daughter has grown up," he remarked with a hint of both condescension and amusement.

Enver was confident he would have been privy to a fight between the Dukes then and there had Elodie not intervened with a chagrin giggle.

"Be that as it may, Mama has asked you to join her at Figaro's before the council is in session later today. Something along the lines of your doublet needing to be fixed?"  

The Duke begrudgingly complied, uttering a quick "Until later" before he scurried towards the exit, a chamberlain and guard rushing to follow him before Enver was left in the company of Elodie and Duke Portyr, who conveniently excused himself with a cheeky wink. Enver carefully quelled the instinct to be overzealous, opting instead to maintain his characteristic veneer of stoicism. However, beneath his near-impenetrable façade, the prospect of engaging with her further was a discrete thrill, an emotion as perplexing as it was involuntary.

"I see my father is no votary of yours," Elodie broke the silence.

Enver barked out a laugh. If only she knew. Her father was a man shrouded in more secrecy than most Baldurian's would ever know, hardly the paragon of justice some had made him out to be and even less the devout Lathander disciple his Cleric wife had allegedly turned him into. But if they had all accepted the lie, Thamior Liardon had imposed on them – if all his records and annals told the same tale – the lies passed into the narrative and became truth. It was yet another testament to humanity's flaws, for most could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality, simply swallowing everything they were given without a second thought. How much they could thrive under leadership like his...

"We do not see eye to eye," Enver cryptically replied after a while. One day, he would use the lack of her knowledge against her, but in that singular moment, it had been far more sensical to omit the truth in favour of her trust.

"I'm not surprised," Elodie mused. "He's no fan of control."

"A sentiment you see to share," Enver retorted.

"I do," she nodded resolutely. "Control and power are not a means, Sir Gortash. They are an end. Tyranny itself is deeply rooted in the chaos you desperately seek to eliminate."

"I beg to differ."

"Do you?" Elodie tilted her head. "One does not establish tyranny in order to safeguard people from chaos; one sows it to establish tyranny. Sarevok himself used chaos as a means to establish his own."

"Sarevok was a Bhaalspawn," Enver interjected, befuddled. "Bhaal's scions never sought anything but conflict. It was quite literally bred into them." - and still was, he nearly said, but the girl likely lived under the belief that any Bhaalspawn had long perished.

"And yet he sowed enough chaos to nearly be crowned a Duke of this city, which would have enabled his own tyrannical rule and end in Bhaal's name." She hummed for a second as if deep in thought. "Faith is both an anchor and an excellent catalyst for indoctrination, you know."

"Aren't your parents known Lathander worshippers?" Enver asked incredulously. Such words were hardly those of a faithful.

"I am too," Elodie confessed. "And yet my point stands. How often have wars been fought in the names of gods, if only to establish something purportedly better? How often has faith been used to establish means of control, yet only chaos was left in its wake?"

Clever as she was, Enver had begun to see her point, though he certainly did not agree with her conclusion. While Sarevok's folly had been nought but chaos and destruction, it was hardly reflective of faith but more a reflection of the god. A god such as his Lord Bane would bring eternal peace, though yes, also fear, yet the brief struggle would culminate in peace if only people would see and bend to the whim of his dreaded Lord. Obedience alone was not enough unless there was suffering for a brief second in which human minds were torn apart and put together again in the shapes of his own choosing.

Enver surmised, with a grin, that Elodie was correct.

Chaos was, if only briefly, a vital aspect to assured peace and if a collective god would sow it upon all until they bend to his will - an imposture of manufactured chaos, which may have been unreal yet vitally important. His mind twisted and turned endlessly, rapidly altering and revising as Enver realised just how useful chaos could be if only treaded with trepidation, contempt, adulation, and orgiastic triumph.

"I see your point," he eventually grinned. "After all, the faithful will do anything in the name of their god."

[neteyummydrabbles]

heaven's incarnate [tsu'tey x reader]

pairing: tsu'tey x fem na'vi reader words: 632 warnings: slight angst, tsutey being husband material, slight self-deprecation a/n: we're taking a break from our farcical works; so we're gonna give you something you can cream to for once 🥰

tsu'tey on mother's day!

if there was one thing i did not enjoy about motherhood, it was the constant screaming and crying that accompanied it.

i jolted awake; hearing ri'antu sob for the third time this night. i was exhausted. my breasts were heavy and my head was throbbing. i just wanted to rest. while i was preparing myself to go look after him, tsu'tey knowingly held my hand. he looked into my eyes with a sympathetic expression, teeming with concern. he gave my hand a gentle squeeze and said, "take some rest, yawntutsyip" (darling). i went back to bed, and noticed tsu'tey consoling little rian'tu in his arms. in no time, the night filled with silence.

the next morning, i woke up later than usual, and was surprised to find a bouquet of sun lilies near my bedside. then, i saw tsu'tey approach, smiling, with his hands behind his back. he was clearly hiding something. "good morning, yawne" (beloved) he said. "good morning, what are you hiding?" i asked. "oh this? i made this for you" he said, presenting a beautifully intricate necklace, adorned with rare beads and flowers that took many moons to bloom. "tsu'tey! what is the occasion? did i forget something? oh i'm so sor-" "don't be sorry, it's mother's day! you're a mother now, mama. you're so beautiful" he smiled, showcasing his pearly whites.

i had completely forgotten this strange human tradition that jake introduced us to amidst the chaos that comes with being a mother. but now it all made sense.

"irayo, yawntu" (thank you, my love) i whispered, eyes welling up with tears. tsu'tey then gently brushed my hair aside and clasped the necklace shut onto my neck." he then embraced me from behind, while i sunk into his touch. it felt like all of my exhaustion wiped away. i felt at peace. "nga yawne lu oer" (i love you) he whispered tenderly, placing a kiss on my cheek. "nga yawne lu oer, tsu'tey"

"ooh, i wanna see what it looks like on me!" i exclaimed. "yes, let us go to the pond and take a look!" suddenly, my face dropped "but rian'tu.." "do not worry, today, rian'tu's with ma and pa. he's in safe hands." i was relieved, and followed tsu'tey out our marui. we ran to our ikrans, tails flicking at each other, giggling all the way. i felt like a naive teenager running around with my first love. i felt free.

we finally reached the pond and i looked at myself in the clear, glittering water. "tsu'tey, it's gorgeous!" my gaze trailed off to the reflection of my face and i couldn't help but notice just how weary i looked. my sunken eyes, my chapped lips, the bags under my eyes, my dishevelled hair... my thoughts were interrupted by tsu'tey's familiar yet calming voice saying the words i knew i needed to hear, "no, you're gorgeous, believe me" i smiled, my eyes reflecting deep gratitude.

"but 'tey, are you sure i deserve such kind treatment on mother's day? am i even a good mother?" i asked, with a dull tone. to that, tsutey's ears perked up and he came up to me, holding my hands in his, " trust me, you are a great mother. you care for our child so tenderly; i couldn't be more grateful for you. today, i wanted to remind you of the strength and beauty that you bring into our lives" i looked into tsu'tey's eyes; they were sincere and warm; and felt my own eyes water. he wiped my tears and said, "today, you are not a mother burdened by responsibilities, you are a strong woman deserving of leisure, love and appreciation." i hugged tsutey, nuzzling my face into his neck, overwhelmed by his thoughtful words.

"oel ngati kameie, y/n" (i see you) he whispered under his breath. "oel ngati kameie," i affirmed.

thanks for reading! let us know if you liked this change of style on our blog! it's our first time so we're still a bit crusty but we hope you enjoyed <3

[senmutthebuilder]

Monkey Man, brief thoughts and the live-blog

So I FINALLY got to watch Monkey Man with Dev Patel, produced by him and Jordan Peele.

Non spoilery commentary?

~ THE CINEMATOGRAPHY. Even the night scenes, or the "dark" atmosphere scenes are LIT and you can see them. ~ The SOUND EDITING?! I can hear people talking above the soundtrack?! WHAT IS THIS?! ~ The fighting is, to my eye, choreographed very well. I did not bullet count, when guns were in play, but then, I rarely do. ~ ALL of the actors brought their A-game. ~ Warnings for violence, gun violence, knife violence, blood, sex, prostitution, drugs, some naked bits in passing, and fire-related trauma. ~ The DOG does NOT die. (okay that's slightly spoilery, but oh well, it's important.)

If you like vengeance movies. If you like kung fu movies. If you like John Wick. If you like The Crow. THIS MOVIE IS FOR YOU.

straight up live-blog comments past this

Dev Patel is so pretty I love the setup so far The cinematography is great But I expect that from a Peele project Woman villain.

Love the sound track Kinda hope the little guy makes it

The revenge angle, the way we get the backstory is great Sita's actress is pretty Alphonso is little guy's name

OMG actually using "Roxanne" in a prostitute scene The fighting is great

OMG yes, he stopped for Alphonso Fuck. Intense chase but so far Alphonso is living Bobby ain't giving up Boy is wounded, handcuffed, and was still kicking ass

Oh that's good work, transposing the healing with the myth He's in the care of the... Damn it I used to know that word. Gender challenging class. Hijra!

I need to learn this elder's name Oh Queenie, the woman, was only a stepping stone. Rana and the religious guy are the villains I am going to have to look up reactions to this, preferably Indian ones

Is the subtext that he is Rana's son? Because Rana knew his mother There's some Crow overtones in this Love the training to the tabla instrument Alpha. The elder is Alpha Baba Shakti is Top Dollar. Rana is T-bird. Queenie is the pawn shop guy.

I say again that Dev Patel is beautiful Come on, Monkey Man, you can kick the giant's ass Aww Alphonso cheering him on

Shit's about to go down He's not going to survive this, is he? OH! His people! Holy fuck this is beautiful melee Chaos incarnate

I need to know which martial arts he trained in Fuck yeah ass kicking Go Sita! Final showdown?

Epic beat down Now this is interesting Religious nut has tricks Okay, how about that?! OMG that ending!

[a-norwegian-nerds-grotto]

The Final Horizon + THE END monologue

Warning: SPOILERS for Sonic Frontiers, The Final Horizon.

As awesome as the soundtrack was for the new final boss fight, did anyone else miss THE END's monologue from the original version? Some of it kinda seemed like it was written for this boss fight in particular even.

Heck, if I'm not mistaken, what little dialogue THE END had in The Final Horizon was in the Japanese version taken straight from the beginning of its original boss fight monologue, unlike in the English version where it was given brand new lines.

All these things considered, I've therefore tried to imagine how the monologue (the English one at least) would've worked in the new final boss fight.

"Mortal, you have served your purpose.

Now face your end."

"I am the all-consuming void.

What can one mote of golden light illuminate within the abyss?"

"Countless stars. Countless worlds. Countless lives.

All fell to me, all brought to nothing."

"All the teeming chaos of creation?

Brought to order. To neutrality. To nothing."

"I saw your mind as you ran through my prison. You have fought machines and gods.

They were mighty?"

"They were finite.

I am infinite. I am nothing."

"You struggle as so many have done before."

"You will be consumed like all those before you."

"I saw your mind. Your courage never wavered.

Why?"

"Arrogance? Ignorance? Stupidity?"

"I was contained once.

Once.

Is that why?"

"My captors bent time and space."

"My captors built a whole reality to contain me."

"My captors burned their souls away to fuel their engines."

"And you?"

"You glitter.

You fly about me like a gnat."

"I am inevitable.

I cannot be denied."

"You strike this incarnation with all your might.

It changes nothing."

"You are not brave.

You are not victorious."

"No matter what form I take…

The End comes for you all!"

[blametheeditor]

I, CHAOS FEDDY, demand more Ghost Jeramy! I am hungry for MORE!

CHAOS FEDDY

To See And To Hear

Next

NOT FOR EVERYONE

Content Warnings: Cursing. Murder. Threatening to kill. Off-screen deaths. Implied death-scenes. The concept of someone who was killed living their after-life on Earth. Dark thoughts/themes.

Run Down: Fazbear Corporation has a dark past full of death and murder. On one hand, it'd be safe to assume at least one unrestful spirit would haunt their last resting place. On the other, if they knew the plans William Afton had in store, any reason to stay should immediately be replaced with moving on as soon as possible.

Oh, oh no...they're the Editor incarnate

____________________________________

“Did you know there’s a ghost at the second location?” 

David Harrison knows better than to listen to the ramblings of the blond mechanic who works at Afton’s Robotics. Because within the few months he’s been hired to completely turn around the current reputation for Fazbear Corporation, Eggs Benedict has proven to be no more than an excessive prankster who’s sole purpose is to piss him off. 

“Is this just like your claim there’s a ghost at the first one?” the suited man growls. “The one that turned out to be wrong?” 

Eggs only shrugs at the statement. “Did we really confirm?”

He watches a the tall business man rolls his eyes before completely ignoring his unwanted companion, too busy taking inventory of the main dining room to dive into the idea there is definitely a ghost at the other location. But he doesn’t mind! 

Because through his due-diligence to accomplishing his self-proclaimed mission of figuring out what gets under the egotistical asshole’s skin, Eggs has learned two things about David. 

1. The man doesn’t believe in ghosts. 

2. The man definitely believes in ghosts. 

It all started when Eggs heard that, after doing such a ‘stand up’ job as the owner of the newly built Fazbear Entertainment Center, I.E. the only that currently hasn’t had any deaths associated with it, David was told to check out the first location and make a plan on how to turn it from a disastrous hellhole into a thriving paradise. 

So of course, as the wonderful amazing bestest coworker ever, Eggs just had to warn the person he cares deeply about there’s a ghost haunting the joint. 

To be honest, Eggs has said there’s been one there for ages. No one listens to him, nor will they ever will. But hey! It’s a fun little thing to bring up and see what kind of reaction comes up. 

Unsurprisingly, David didn’t believe him. Completely brushed the very heartfelt warning like a jerk. Eggs didn’t think too much about it after going to work at their sister location. Didn’t come by to mess with business man for a couple days. 

But the second he had walked in the doors the first thing said to him was ‘there wasn’t a ghost’. 

Now he’s been mastering the art of being a jackass for a couple years now. Believe him when he says the thought of ghosts are apparently one of the few things that make David concerned. Another one is anyone touching his coffee cache inside his office. 

Take this with a grain of salt! Eggs can not confirm nor deny there is in fact another ghost and its currently haunting their second location. But, what’s super funny, is that there wasn’t a rumor about one until David was told to check it out. 

So Eggs waits patiently, leaning against a table, checking over his nails. 

“I was at the first location, dumbass,” David finally states. “And I’m sorry to say that there weren’t wailing in the halls, or a sudden cold spot. Unfortunately I forgot my EMF reader at home but I guarantee it wouldn’t have even beeped.” 

When there’s no immediate comeback to his words, hazel eyes glance over to a very curious expression. “Shit, David. Did you research ghosts before you went over?” 

“Mr. Harrison.” A beat. “No I didn’t!” 

Eggs snorts. “Dude, cold spots are semi-common knowledge. But an EMF reader? You have to look up ‘ghost hunting’ specifically to know what that is.” 

An innocent smile is all that’s made in response to the fierce glare. But before the conversation can continue, the restaurant doors open up. 

The figure draped in purple walking in is met with two opposite reactions. Eggs immediately waving with a joyful look to say hello, and David straightening his tie as he steps behind a table. 

“Vincent.” 

Said man allows an amused smile to tug on his lips. “Naw, no ‘mutated grape’ today, David?” 

David doesn’t dare take his eyes off amber ones silently begging for him to make a wrong move to piss him off. Give an excuse for the file being held to be replaced with a knife that would happily be plunged into his chest. Fulfill the promise of slitting his throat if dared call his ‘coworker’ the nickname again. “No.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“Can’t we cut him some slack?” Eggs pipes up, not at all worried about a knife being turned on him. Because unlike David, he understands the whole need to threaten with violence. “I thought Mutated Grape was pretty creative.” 

Could’ve gone with something as boring as Purple or Ponytail. They don’t know a lot about their mysterious coworker who shows up every now and then, always with something Afton has requested to be done. Can’t blame them for trying to tease! 

Especially because it’s always fun to watch reactions when they use something like Mutated Grape around other people. As if most of the population don’t know of a man who’s only wardrobe is the older Fazbear uniform of a polo shirt and slacks colored a deep purple, his skin and long hair always tied back in a disheveled ponytail the exact same shade. 

Eggs is looked at with the thoughtful expression. “Well you’re not worried I’m in the mood for stabbing whoever pushes my buttons.” 

“Never! I’m an angel!” 

Vincent rolls his eyes, but he opts to ignore the blond in favor of walking over to David, the business man immediately tensing up in fear the anger towards Eggs will be directed toward him instead. 

The purple man stands on the opposite side of the table being used as a pathetic barrier, offering the file in his hand to David barely hiding his trembles. “Will says congratulations on your initiation on having an employee get killed at your restaurant!” 

David pales, glancing down at the paperwork that greets him as he opens the folder. 

Swallows thickly at the words ‘Congratulations!’ and a cheesy thumbs up sticker placed beside ‘Incident Report’. 

"Right,” almost gets stuck in his throat at the reminder of his reputation taking a hit from this. 

“Fuck, Harrison! Are you getting a ghost, too!” 

“A ghost?” Vincent grins. 

David scowls as he points toward the jackass with the folder in his hand. “Do not encourage him. He’s a dumbass and says shit just to get a rise out of me.” 

“Who knows! I might just be telling the truth!” 

“Please,” David begs as he turns toward the purple man content to watch and see where the conversation goes. “Tell him he was wrong about a ghost being at the first location, and tell him he’s an asshole for saying there’s one at the second one.” 

Vincent turns toward Eggs at that, his gaze lingering on a table identical to the others before meeting bright blue eyes. “I’ve heard about the one at Freddy Fazbear’s. There’s one at Fazbear’s Pizzeria?” 

“I’m going to my office.” 

“Yes,” Eggs confirms, happy that someone’s listening to his wise words. Though it’s not even the person who needs to heed the warning! “They’re brand new, but you never know how powerful a ghost can be! Harrison could get attacked at any moment over there!” 

“And who confirmed this ghost was there?” 

Vincent sighs as the blond simply shrugs. But instead of telling the mechanic off for spreading rumors that very well might not be true, there’s no harm in what’s being said. It makes David all the more paranoid, and watching the business man jump is highly entertaining. 

Besides, who is he to say anything. 

“I’ll make sure he receives your message, Eggs.” 

Vincent doesn’t see the blond glancing over the spot he had previously, already turning to follow David’s path to the office. 

But Scott Cawthon does. 

“Hey, can you see me?” 

David growls as he spins around in a circle, swearing he just had his pen on him. It should’ve been right- 

Oh. Apparently it was directly in front of his face. 

...no need to stall. 

The garish blue and yellow sticker shouting ‘Great Job!’ greets him on the second page of the report he needs to fill out, right above a small section that has already been typed up. And while it hadn’t been anyone’s fault, nothing but a freak accident, he feels a twinge of guilt at reading the victim to a fatal workplace incident was a sixteen year old kid. 

Fritz Smith doesn’t know how he feels reading about his own death over the shoulder of his boss, the man having no idea the person he’s reporting for had helped place the pen currently being used in a visible spot. 

Neither are unaware of Vincent watching a transparent redheaded boy shake his head before busying himself by filing away papers soundlessly as the office is methodically organized. He doesn’t attempt to get either of their attention, walking right back down the hallway in order to discuss the fact there might be a major problem with a ghost of his own. 

“Hey-” 

“Hey!” 

Eggs grins as he’s given the best bitch-face ever. 10/10. Would like to earn it again. “What are you still doing here?” 

“Uh, making sure Harrison isn’t ghost food.” 

“He can’t see me, Vince.” 

The purple man waves a hand toward the blond acting as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It sounds like he’ll be fine. He survived Mikey’s restaurant, didn’t he?” 

“What if that’s a Mike thing? Ghosts don’t do shit because he’s there?” 

Vincent sets a hand on his waist, taking a deep breath before sighing. “I’ll bring it up with Will. Fair?” 

“Fair!” 

Eggs doesn’t make a comment about how he saw the other hand make an almost ‘come here’ motion with two curled fingers. 

He’s walking out the door as Scott curses. “There’s two more?” 

[glamgoblin]

Tagged by @ella-norah to do this. Thank you for tag bestie!! 🫶🏻

Rules:

Post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to AO3. (Sort by date posted.) If you have less than 10 fics posted, post what you have!

✨Fics below the cut! ✨

Please read the trigger warnings for fics 3 and 5

1. Midnight Rendezvous - Phayu/Rain Modern Mythology AU and Crack (Love in the Air)

“When was the last time you actually raced?” Prapai leant against the barricade, waiting for Phayu to fix his bike after Prapai’s last race.

2. The Reunion - Multiship family feels and crossover (Love in the Air + Not Me) Co-written by the fantastic @ella-norah

White just finished the talk to his father. He has heard the best news ever - he’s going back home to Thailand. Finally!

3. A Little Too Much Energy - Phayu/Rain and besties, long distance relationship and difficult pregnancy issues. Omegaverse (Love in the Air)

tw: mention of potential miscarriage

When Rain first found out he was pregnant he was thrilled. Him and Phayu had been trying for awhile, and Rain was ready to be a dada. Even just looking at the little blue lines on the test made his heart swell. That day he went to the store and bought a children’s toy set to set to surprise Phayu.

4. Uncharted Waters - NSFW Phayu/Rain mermaid au (Love in the Air)

The moment Phayu’s lips touched Rain’s, Rain knew he’d be Phayu’s forever. All the butterflies in his stomach, all the times he’d convinced himself he should find someone, all the years of holding on to a memory he was never supposed to make, they all made sense now.

5. Light At The End of the World - Gen. Macau decides he doesn’t want to be here anymore and his last thoughts (Kinnporsche)

tw: suicide, self harm, graphic depictions of wounds

Macau felt whole with the gouges on his arms. Like they were always meant to be there. He took comfort in knowing it was almost over. Letting the blood drip from him he felt his heartbeat for the first time.

6. Mortal Love - Phayu/Rain, Ink Exchange and Siren AU (Love in the Air)

“Are you sure you want to do this Rain?” Sky asked for the tenth time on their walk over to the shop. Today Rain would be getting a tattoo, despite Sky’s interrogation.

“Yes, it’ll be fun.”

“It’s not just because…” Sky trailed off.

7. Mis-Match - AkkAyan getting together fic where Yok is Akk’s brother. A veryyyyy belated Christmas gift for the wonderful @wintercrushes (The Eclipse + Not Me)

“Awww!” Chaos incarnate came bounding up to the school gates. “How’s my favorite brother in law? Akk being troublesome again?”

8. Repose My Love, I’ve Sinned Enough for the Both of Us - NSFW Vegas/Pete, aka the one where I challenged myself to hide ten random song lyrics in a smut fic. Happens when Pete is captured by Vegas (Kinnporsche)

The room smelled of blood and cheap cleaner. The kind meant for when you expected something to get dirty all over again.

9. Parting Shot - Phayu/Rain, Years ago Phayu and Rain broke up despite still being in love. When on a trip Phayu runs into Rain and Rain’s daughter, who happens to look exactly like Phayu. Omegaverse. (Love in the Air)

Phayu thought he was sneaking into the house, it was three am and they both had work early in the morning. Rain should be asleep right now.

10. Roses are Red, Now I Can’t Get Out of Bed - NSFW Phayu/Rain sex pollen fic for the PhayuRain discord server prompt (Love in the Air)

Planning dates was always fun for Phayu. He wasn’t as romantic as Prapai, choosing to show his love in different ways, but he always had one or two surprises to show Rain how much he loved him.

Tagging @soyellowcurtainsthen @loveable-sea-lemon and @machoestofmen to show off your fics bc I love them but only if you want to! (I know these things take forever.)

[chaotic-coffee-break]

Pinned Post (Read First)

Warning:

This blog has the potential to have adult material unsuitable for children or those with weak constitutions. If you are unable to block /ignore content you know is not for you, please keep away. Minors DNI.

NSFW means more than just sexual material. The material showcased can be Yandere, manipulation, adult situations, horror situations, stalking, blood, gore, and preying, among many other things that will be tagged. I will add tags if needed. These will often be ideas pulled from real-life crime cases.  The material can be tri-folded in the case of a villain. These themes are not to be taken lightly. 

Do not interact if you cannot handle these.

I analyze fictional characters. I am a crime buff with SOME psychological insight and I am desensitized to a good bit. I often forget that many aren't so if I say something that makes you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I love the darker side of things and delving into bad endings for various characters.

The Ask box is open for headcanons and such. I do bite, but not often so don't be afraid to start a conversation. Fair warning, hate, and such will be laughed at and put on display. Telling me to kill myself or insulting me in any way doesn't work on me and I think that scares people.

I have done requests in the past but until I get the rules up, I'll be holding off on those. Headcanon asks are welcome until then. I will say if I have to research a condition that isn't listed, I'm less likely to answer it as I may not do the condition justice. 8<

Series:

Welcome Home, The Amazing Digital Circus, Greylock, Mandela Catalogue, The Backrooms/Liminal Spaces, and most Youtube Analog Horror series I'll add as they pop up.

OCs so far:

Renegade (previously known as "Skein", renamed out of anger by Caine due to their behavior) - TADC - Muted, upbeat Stuntman/Evel Keneval aesthetic with an androgynous form who is chaos incarnate with cheat codes and the ability to No Clip on command. They have a helmet with kitty ears and a cape that resembles bat wing webbing with black and orange coloring. Renegade is muted by Caine due to a "copyright" fear and locked away until he can "reason" with them. Why they can use these abilities is unknown even to Caine. Besides Caine, Bubble is the only one with access to their enclosure. Once released, Renegade will unleash absolute mayhem on the circus and anything Caine has created and seems to dance/react to music no one can hear but themselves. Inspo is Crash Bandicoot, Junko Endoshima, and boundary breakers/speed runners on YouTube. - Stormy Knight - WH - A little Ragdoll Muppet who lives in a cozy cottage in the woods on the outskirts of the town with a monster "uncle". She loves fireflies, wandering around at night, creepy things, and likes to teach people how to handle their fears. She is also good at sleight of hand or illusion "magic". Inspo is Raggedy Ann/Andy, Jim Henson's The Labyrinth, and Eureka's Castle. - The Backrooms - Level 9705 - Superstore after closing. Needs to be its own post.

*This blog does not contain jump scares without ample warning ahead of time. I'm personally not a fan of them.

**Everything will be tagged appropriately.

[sophiemess]

can i request headcanons for kyotani, suna, and tendou with a younger sister? (platonic ofc)

KYOTANI, SUNA AND TENDOU WITH A YOUNGER SISTER

pairing(s): PLATONIC suna, tendou and kyotani with a younger sister reader

tags: siblingsssss hehe, tendou being a chaotic bastard in his, very light-hearted

warnings: none!

wc: idk i’ll figure it out soon

a/n: thanks for the request anon! sorry it took me so long to get to, i’ve had it done for like a week and i thought i posted it earlier fkshd—also, i tried a different format since my headcanons for the normal style weren’t flowing properly!

kyotani, who’s the “protective brother trope” incarnate.

kyotani, who drags you along with him everywhere because he thinks it’s better to suffer through things if you’re there.

kyotani, who doesn’t shove you around quite as hard as he does with others.

kyotani, who sits still just so you can practice your eyeliner on him (no matter how shitty it may be).

kyotani, who texts you at 2 am “shut the fuck up i’m trying to sleep” but inevitably ends up joining you in whatever you’re doing.

kyotani, who never lets you win in arm-wrestling but is immensely proud the day you do.

kyotani, who tells everyone else that you’re annoying but will strangle anyone else who calls you so.

kyotani, who rolls his eyes when people call you “mad pup” but thinks it’s cute how you wear the nickname with pride.

kyotani, who’s proud of all your achievements even if the only way he expresses that is by punching you in the shoulder.

suna, who’s the partner-in-crime type of older brother.

suna, who sends you a video of atsumu and osamu fighting after every practice and enjoys the snarky comments you send back.

suna, who wakes you up at 1 am to get whatever food he’s craving for a midnight snack.

suna, who (for some reason) knows fully how to do your hair and what’s easiest to take care of later.

suna, who knows when you “borrow” his t-shirts and hoodies and pesters you to give them back.

suna, who takes you to get food after practice and pays for it because he knows you don’t have much saved.

suna, who takes up all the space on the couch but scowls when you sit on his feet as if he didn’t have it coming.

suna, who plays videogames with you when you’re sad and lets you win to lift your spirits.

suna, who ultimately wants to be the best older brother he can be.

tendou, who’s honored that his little sister wants to match his chaos.

tendou, who hides all of your things at every available opportunity, and thinks it’s fun when you start to make a game out of it.

tendou, who wakes up with marker all over his face and chuckles at your genius while rubbing it raw trying to clean it.

tendou, who races you when he can and never ever lets you win.

tendou, who shows zero mercy whatsoever on april fool’s day.

tendou, who doesn’t want you to go through what he did, so drills into you that you should never be ashamed of how you look.

tendou, who finds your face immediately among the crowd at his games and plays his best to show you how cool he is.

tendou, who sends you shitposts at four in the morning when it feels like nobody on the planet is awake except you two.

tendou, who cares about you so much more than you think.

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[herogardn]

instead of going super in depth ill just summarize important stuff:

my portrayal follows canon up to a point:  when perfect chaos is defeated and fleetway’s recharged,  he loses his memories of his tame arc and ebony.  he’s put back in sonic’s body,  but as years progress,  it becomes too much and he’s instead sealed within the master emerald as it’s the only thing that can actually comfortably contain him.  the downside is that it’s supercharged him to the point that he upset it’s natural balance of chaos energy enough to break himself free.

he is a super form on fucking crack.  do not underestimate him oh my god there will be consequences i am begging you stay on his good side.  bc he’s a sentient super form he floats n flies around a lot.  it’s just what he does.

his zone he originated from is fucking gone.  it’s barren.  he completely decimated that bitch there is nothing and if anyone is still alive there are only very few.  he also turned the special zone into his own personal lil hellscape for funsies.  remember when i said he was a supercharged sentient super form on crack.

fleetway is a being made purely of chaos energy.  he has a body and has mass,  though weighs surprisingly little,  but doesn’t have organs or anything of the sort.  he can suffer extremely fatal wounds and his body will still reconstruct itself  (   bar anything caused by the phantom ruby  ) .  he can alter his appearance however he wants,  but his default,  should he ever be  “   reset  ” ,  is sonic bc that’s who he originated from.  he doesn’t need to eat or sleep,  but will just because he can even tho it does nothing for him.

he’s ?  insane.  in every form of the word.  he is chaos incarnate.  one minute he’s fine next murderous tendencies kick in with no warning.  he’s extremely unhinged,  unpredictable,  and dangerous.  he may act like it sometimes,  but he is not stupid.

he’s extremely in tune with chaos energy so he can track down any sources of it with relative ease.  the double edged sword to this is that bc he’s a giant fucking mass of energy that means tracking him down is extremely easy.  it wouldn’t be surprising if anyone trying to find an emerald finds him instead bc of this.  he can be drained of his energy,  which is extremely painful to him as it’s essentially killing him,  but anyone on the receiving end of it will receive horrific visions,  thoughts,  nightmares,  etc due to it being his chaos energy.  it can and will drive people insane if they drain too much.

there are very few things he fears.  being sealed away again,  losing his individuality,  and the phantom ruby,  as it can completely negate chaos energy and thus completely eradicate him.

fleetways a one of a kind thing.  there is only one version of him within the multiverse  (  canon to his portrayal and this blog,  anyway  ) .

[tipsydipsydo]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 1.6k 

Rating: 16+

Genre: Fluff; Smut

AU: non-idol! AU; established relationship AU!

Warnings: soft (!) Dirty Talk; sweetest Taehyung alive; virgin! Reader; Petnames; both of them getting turned on by a sex-scene in a movie; talk about sexual fantasies; mentions of oral (female receiving); mentions of vaginal intercourse; slight talk about boundaries 

Summary: It’s Sunday afternoon and Taehyung and you are watching a romantic historical movie for your quality cuddle time. This movie also includes a sensual & erotic scene which has some kind of effect on both of you. It leads to a talk where Taehyung tells you his dreams and fantasies, what he wants to do with you, whenever you feel ready for this step...

A/N: I think all of you already know that it can take me months until I finish somebody’s birthday present... here you go, my lovely @hantaev​! It turned a little different out than I thought it would but I hope that you like it!! Love you 💕 Status: unedited

Movie Source:

A little Chaos - Trailer 

[Links]:

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

It is a lazy Sunday afternoon, where Taehyung and you decided to watch a movie and cuddle under the mountains of pillows and blankets you hoard in your room, preferably on your bed. Your boyfriend knows that you have a weak spot for everything that takes place in a historical era and includes a more or less dramatic and cheesy lovestory. He doesn’t mind, he loves to see your beautiful face lighten up when he mentions that he found a new movie of Netflix which might raise your interest and you get all exited about it, to watch it here and now.  

For today you both choose the movie “A little chaos” for your weekly couple cuddle time and you enjoy it a lot. The love story, the historical background, the beautiful ball gowns and all of that in the warm arms of Taehyung. It’s simply a perfect afternoon and you couldn’t be happier in this moment. 

The sweet and innocent kisses and touches you shared with each other beforehand, pauses in the moment where the two main protagonists, André and Sabine, gets closer to each other... very close, uhm, up to the point where they begin to undress their lover. Your breath quicken when you feel how Taehyung’s arms pull you tighter against his broad chest. You’re so close to his heart now, you can listen to the rapid beats, faster than usually and you can sense that he got a little nervous by the scenery on the screen as well. His hands still rest well-mannered and behaved on your covered stomach, even though you can almost feel his hesistance to tell you something. 

You get pulled out of your stream of thoughts when soft moans finds their way out of the television speakers and fills the silent room with arousing noises. You gulp harshly and without noticing it by yourself, you rub your thighs together to ease the almost painful ache between your legs. This sweet, nowadays pretty simple lovemaking scene is doing something to your untouched body. You’re still a virgin and didn’t even touched yourself ‘properly enough’ to call it masturbation. You don’t know why it happens to be like that... it just happens? It’s not like you didn’t want to touch yourself because of other reasons, you simply never ‘desired’ to do it. Maybe just until now... now you feel an urge you’ve never felt before and you don’t know to handle it.

Taehyung knows all of that and actually encourage you to take your time until you are ready, he doesn’t want to push you in any way. Actually, he always tell you that you make the rules about your body, your sexuality and your individual experiences and make sure that you don’t feel insecure or pressed by society why you don’t have certain experiences yet, especially according to your age. That’s the reason he makes you feel so comfortable and safe, he always makes sure that you’re fine with every step you both make together in your relationship, your shared adventure. He always asks for your consent, even when it’s just a simple kiss. You love that about him, how gentle and attentive he is, sensing discomfort before you realize you weren’t 100% sure about his suggested step. Endless patience, never getting mad at you when you need more time for the next step than most other peoples. God, you love him so, so much! 

Taehyung reaches out for the Remote Control of the TV to lower the volume a little bit. The rest of the movie and what’s happening after the lovemaking scene blurries into each other, your thoughts can’t focus on the movie anymore, so it doesn’t bothers you.

“Baby... I hope it’s not intruding your personal space if I tell you... if I tell you that I’d cherish your body, when the time has come that you’d be ready for that step... just like André did to Sabine’s. Are you... are you comfortable if I tell you some of my fantasies I have... how I plan to make your first time beautiful and comfortable for you?”, Taehyung rasps mit your ear. His voice dropped significantly a few octaves, giving you the hint that he got the same feeling by watching this erotic and sensual scene just like you. 

A small hum leaves you throat, followed by a soft spoken “Yes”. You bite your lower lip, you’re terribly curious and exited to hear what he has planned for that special moment. 

With your verbal consent, Taehyung continues: “I thought often about how I could make this moment as enjoyable as possible for you... I dreamed about how I’d scatter countless kisses all over your gorgeous body, whispering praises into your ear, telling you how flawless and stunning you look... like my personal incarnate goddess. I know, I’ve never seen you naked before but I can guess that your body will be as beautiful as your wonderful soul. I want to explore you with all my senses. I want to kiss you... I want to taste you. I would love to feel your soft skin underneath my lips and my tongue, pleasing your sensitive spots with kisses, licks and sucks... To make your nipples oversensitive with my mouth before I leave a trail of kisses down your soft belly and go down on you... I hope you don’t mind if I tell you how often I thought about to eat you out, to settle between your soft thighs and please you with my tongue.” 

He pauses for a moment, waiting for your consent to carry on with his monologue. You nod slightly, a quiet “Please tell me more...” leaves your lips. 

“... I want to feel your body. Against my body and underneath my fingertips, admiring your beauty and pleasing you with my digits. I want to see your face twisting in pleasure... I want to treat you so good until you fall apart, so I can catch you when you come down from your high. I want to smell your body. You always smell so good and want to bury my nose in the crook of your neck, into your hair and moan into your ear when we connected our bodies, when I am inside of you... feeling you so snug and tightly wrapped around my length. I hope the fantasies of my daydreams meet your own expectations...”

Taehyung sighs deeply after he drew this images on both of your mind. You think, that his voice just dropped even lower while talking and he can’t deny it, it’s drenched in arousal. But there is no longing, no pressure, no intrusive thought to push you indirectly through this talk to let it finally happen. He is just talking about his fantasies but it’s ‘timeless’, he don’t care if you want to take the next step today or next week or in six months. You realize, you both took a new step, at least somehow. You’re talking about your sexual fantasies but without any expectations that it has to happen anytime soon. 

“...Taehyung?”, you ask with a slightly trembling voice, gnawing on your lower lip. Yes, his spoken words did definitely something to you. Something that you didn’t felt until now and it urges you to take care of. Your body feels so, so hot and the feeling in the pit of your stomach drives you almost insane. Well, you may never have experienced it by yourself yet but you can guess that it’s sexual desire. Also, you know that Taehyung would never take advantage of your inexperience, that’s the reason why you feel so safe in his arms even when your body reactions confuses you a lot. 

“Yes, Honey?”

“...would you... would you mind if we take a new step today... now?”, you ask softly, a little nevousness makes your voice slightly tremble. 

“What kind of new step, Baby?”, Taehyung asks you gently and turn you around, so you can face him. You smile shyly, wetting you’re lips more often as usual and make them look so terribly kissable. 

“Maybe... maybe exploring each other’s body? Only if you want to of course! Maybe undressing each other and feeling the soft skin of the other one underneath our palms... Kissing other body parts than just the lips... making each other feel really good. I- uhm.. right now my body feels like it’s burning inside out and I think only you can take care of it properly... and maybe teach me how I can take care of it in the future as well...”, you mumble, almost wispering it into his ear. 

“...that sounds amazing... are you sure you want this? It wasn’t my intention to cause this to happen when I told you that... you don’t owe me anything, Baby. You know that right?”, he wispers in his hoarse voice back, cupping your face in his hands and looking into your eyes with pure honesty. 

“I know that, Taehyung. I know that you wouldn’t take any advantage of me. I am very thankful for that, really. But I am more than sure that I am ready to go a step further... together with you and your help.” 

“Oh Baby... anything for you. Tell me what you want me to do for you.”

[all-that-tmnt-jazz]

How the Boys Would Dance

I... I’m sorry. In my defense, I am working on an ask right now and I promise I’ll get it out… Soon.

Warnings: N/A

Incarnation: Bayverse

Extra Info: Not much. This is literally just how I see the boys dancing.

Leo

Like a dad, all the way

Either the cringiest/cheesiest moves, or barely moving at all

No in between

Mikey hates watching Leo dance

Raph

He doesn’t dance

Unless it’s for someone super special

Or if he’s alone in his bedroom/weight room for once

It’s all stunted and hunched all when he’s around others

He’s actually pretty good at basic ballet, though, for when he’s alone

(he’s learned that football players do a little bit to help with agility and such, so)

Donnie

Kinda like Leo, but more like a Girl Scout Leader/Mom at a function

Sorta stiff, but the arms are usually always moving

And hands are usually moving

There is a lot of swaying

Facial expressions!!

(he’s a total dork and it shows through facial expressions)

Save this boy

Mikey

Chaos Incarnate

Literally all over the place

But he actually has really good rhythm

Overall, he has really good moves

Definitely the best dancer of the four