#maybe I will do a master post with all the pages done so far

[chocolate-cringymuffin]

Hello, I am alive haha.

[writedreamlie]

Posted for Badger Cereal Week 2024! Theme: Parallels.

Also under a read-more in case you're not into links~

“Alicia, I just want to speak to him.”

“I don’t think he wants to speak to you.”

Vlad does everything in his power not to crush the phone to bits. It would take time to get another, and who knows if she’ll answer the phone next time he calls?

“Have you even asked him if he wants to speak to me?”

“I have not. Because”—a guttural sound, followed by what he suspects is the woman spitting violently into a spittoon—“I do not have to. Because I know Danny does not want anything to do with you.”

Vlad rubs a hand across his forehead. The headache that began creeping in when he started this call half an hour ago has well and fully set in. “How would you know if—”

“Because I heard more than enough about you from Ma—from my sister, and from what she said, you are not the kind of man I want around my nephew anymore.”

“Alicia, please,” he sighs. “I’ve been around him far more than you over the last few years—”

“Not in a good way.”

“—and so, I know him better. I know more of what he’s been through lately, and I was there when . . .” He can’t even say it. Can’t make his mouth form the words, his lungs expend the air to voice what he’s lost. What they all lost in the explosion. He takes a long, slow breath. “Daniel is going through some things that you simply would not understand. For several reasons.”

“And you would?” she asks, skepticism all but pouring through the phone.

“Yes,” he says. “Without a doubt. And I . . . I want to help.”

There’s silence on the other side, save for some crackling, like her phone is being passed from ear to ear, maybe covered by a hand.

Finally, “Fine. I will ask him. But I ain’t promising nothing more.”

“Thank you, Alicia. That’s all I—”

She’s hung up before he can finish. The cell phone dies the crushing death it was always destined for. He doesn’t expect he’ll get a call back any time soon, but he starts planning to get a new one as immediately as possible anyway. Just in case.

--

The caller ID does not read Alicia’s name for several months. When at last it does, though he’s in the middle of reviewing a document that’s at least 30 pages too long and has a meeting starting in 20 minutes, it only has to ring once.

“Hello?”

“Where is he?”

Vlad flips through the papers, wondering how many he could skim before he has to join the call. The question barely registers. “Where is who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, asshole. Where is Danny?”

That one registers. The papers flop back onto the desk. “What do you mean, where is he? How am I supposed to know? You very explicitly did not want me near him, remember?”

He can hear her teeth grinding before she grits out, “I do remember, but he’s been missing for days now, and you’re the main suspect.”

“What, you think I stole him?” That wouldn’t have been out of the realm of possibility a few years ago—certainly he’s tried it once or twice—but not recently. He’s been trying to be respectful of the boy’s boundaries. A lot of good that’s done, apparently.

“I don’t think it, I know it. Now, I’m gonna ask one more time before I stop being so nice. Where. Is. My. Nephew.”

“I. Do. Not. Know.”

“Listen here, shit-for-brains—”

“Alicia, if I knew, don’t you think I’d be rubbing it in your face rather than wasting both our time pretending I don’t know? You’re the one that lost him! I told you he’d have been better off here.”

There’s silence on the other line, but it’s a silence that feels like a screeching kettle about to boil over. When she speaks again, it’s with deadly calm.

“If I find out you have been hiding my nephew from me, there will not be a single place in this world or the next that you’ll be able to hide from me, Masters.”

His instinct is to scoff, but something in her tone just about makes him believe it. If anyone outside of the Fenton family was going to find a way to punch themselves through to the Ghost Zone for the sole reason of kicking his ass, it absolutely would be the sister of—

“I have to go. Good luck with the search.” He hangs up before she can retort.

The phone falls to the floor just as he falls through it.

He lands in a corner of the lab and makes his way to the portal, next to which is something that looks rather like a landline phone hung on the wall but which has never once been plugged into anything so mundane as a human phone line. He presses one of three buttons on the device—it’s not meant for a wide variety of calls—and stands with one foot tapping and one hand clenching and unclenching as it buzzes.

Then there’s a crackle on the other end, and the speaker lets through a tinny voice. He makes a note to install something cleaner sounding later.

“Plasmius,” Skulker offers warily.

No time to beat around the bush. “I have a job for you.”

--

“What do you mean, leave him alone?” Skulker demands. “You asked me to hunt down the ghost child, and I have! The next step in that process is usually catching what’s been hunted!”

“Not this time,” Vlad says, bringing a screwdriver to the side of the Zone phone even as he’s using it. The speaker really needs replacing; it’s hurting his ears to listen through it. “Send me your coordinates and keep an eye on him. If he moves an inch, I want to know. But you will not be capturing him. Do not even let him know you’re there.”

“What exactly is the point of this? I could just bring him right to you! I have the cube! He doesn’t even look like he’d put up much of a fight.” Skulker pauses, as if assessing his prey. Then, “He looks . . . sad. Tired. Ripe for the taking.”

Vlad sighs, nearly jabbing himself in the face with the screwdriver as he instinctively moves to rub his head. “Ripe for the leaving alone. Do not touch him. Do not engage. I will be there soon.” He presses the second of the three buttons on the device and continues fiddling with the inner mechanisms until he receives the coordinates from Skulker. Then, he’s gone.

--

Danny lies on a small island floating through the Zone. He is not moving. He is not breathing��he doesn’t need to in his ghost form, but it’s unsettling all the same. His expression is blank. His eyes are unfocused.

And the closer Vlad gets, the worse it looks. He can see dark bags under the boy’s eyes, like he hasn’t slept in some time, and he looks thinner than usual. The latter of these two things is more concerning given how little extra bulk Danny has in general. He’d been building up some muscle over the last year or two, but given all that’s happened recently . . .

Well, Vlad can’t say his appearance is surprising, but it is worrying.

He floats down as gently as he can, not wanting to spook Danny away, but the disinterested teen does not react to his presence at all, even as he settles into the rock right next to him.

“Daniel?” No response. “Danny? Little Badger?” The boy’s arms are spread out to his sides, and Vlad chances a poke to his nearest hand.

At this, Danny’s eyes finally seem to focus, and they roll to look at Vlad, though that’s the only part of him that moves. For several long seconds, they stare at each other, like each is waiting for the other to speak, and Danny breaks first. He takes a long, slow breath in, and on the exhale asks airily, “What?”

“Are you—” Vlad starts out of habit, then stops. Of course he’s not all right. What a stupid question. “What are you doing out here?”

Danny’s arms shift a bit in a half-hearted horizontal shrug.

“Your Aunt Alicia called me,” he says, trying to keep the annoyance out of his tone. “She said you’ve been gone for days. Is that true?”

Another shrug. “Has it been days?”

“Do you not know?” Vlad demands.

“Nope. What day is it?”

“Tuesday.”

“Oh. More like a week, then.”

“A week?!” Vlad looks more closely at Danny: the pronounced thinness of his arms, the gauntness of his face, and the pulsing green glow surrounding his form. Not unusual in a ghost, but in a boy who’s only supposed to be half-ghost . . . “Daniel, you haven’t been here that whole time, have you?”

Danny nods, and he blinks several times as if banishing a thought.

It’s almost enough to make Vlad throw the boy over his shoulder and carry him out himself. But on some level, he knows that wouldn’t help. Trying to drag him out now would only make him want to come back again later, and he’d surely make himself even harder to find the second time.

He has to convince Danny to go on his own.

But how to convince an upset teenager of anything at all?

“You know, I really . . . I should have . . . There’s a lot I could have taught you before now. And not in the power-hungry way I usually mean it,” he adds when Danny’s eyebrows scrunch together. It’s a small motion, but even the minor expression is encouraging, so Vlad carries on. “What’s done is done. Let’s start now. Daniel: you cannot spend this much time in your ghost form in the Ghost Zone, for while the ambient energy here fuels your ghost half, your human half is actively deteriorating."

Danny shifts, rolling to one side and then the other before settling back onto his back. “I don’t feel anything wrong.”

“You wouldn’t. Won’t. Not until you change back. I would urge you to do so somewhere comfortable in the human realm, perhaps after eating something substantial.”

“What are you, a ghost doctor now?”

Vlad has to repress a flinch at the phrase. “No. But I do know what I’m talking about.”

Danny sighs and rolls his eyes. “I’ll go back eventually. I just need time.”

“You don’t have time, Daniel.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I means—” Vlad clenches his fists, resisting the urge to turn his answer into a taunt. There’s no reason the boy would already know these things. In fact, it would be best if he didn’t have to know them at all. But if he’s going to be stubborn . . . “If you stay in this state much longer, you won’t have a body to go back to. The human body is fragile, Daniel, and dying twice isn’t a pleasant experience.”

Danny huffs. “Like you would know.”

“Yes, I would.”

At that, Danny seems to go even stiller than he had been before, which is a feat given how little he’d been moving up to this point. Then, he slowly sits up, legs still dangling over the side of the rock as his hands come to rest in his lap and his head swivels to face Vlad.

He’s clearly still trying to remain stoic, but curiosity—and a hint of fear—play across his features briefly.

“What . . . What do you mean?” he asks.

Vlad thinks for a moment, trying to decide how best to explain. “You know there are occasionally natural portals to the Ghost Zone, yes?”

“Yeah,” Danny says with a nod.

“Imagine that, in the early days of using your powers, you’d fallen through one. What would you do?”

Danny shrugs. “Easy. I’d get back out through the—Oh.”

Vlad laces his fingers together, the picture of patience he truly does not have much more of. “Yes. Oh. Imagine falling through in the days before you knew fully what was happening to you. Alone. Before any other reliable portals had been established.”

“Uh . . .” Danny goes still and silent again, presumably imagining just that. “Yeah. Yikes.”

“Indeed.” He doesn’t want to get into the gritty details—what he had been doing prior, how afraid he was to turn back into his human form in case the strange world he’d found himself in killed him on contact, the sheer dread at the prospect of never seeing the sun again—as he was sure none of that would help right now. A story for another day, perhaps. “I was fortunate to have found myself here with at least a few provisions I’d already had with me, and even more fortunate that I found another natural portal out before my human half expired entirely. But it was a near thing.”

Danny looks down at his hands, flexing the white-gloved fingers thoughtfully, and Vlad finds himself flexing his black-clad hands in response.

“Maybe . . . maybe that’s for the better.”

“Excuse me?” Vlad demands.

Danny sighs. “If I died, would it stop hurting? Could I just”—he waves a hand at the general vastness of the Zone—“move on?”

Rage. Rage and indignancy like he’s never felt before course through Vlad’s chest, and he turns, one clenched fist slamming into the rock and startling the boy next to him out of his reverie. How dare this whelp—this whisp of a child—think he knows grief? How dare he presume to feel more misery than Vlad, who has lost and lost and lost, and how dare he imply the best way out is to leave him alone again—

The words are flying out of his mouth before he can stop them: “You think you can just die to get away from your problems? What would your mother think?”

It’s almost a relief when the boy’s fist hits his chin, sending him flying backward through the odd gravity of the Ghost Zone. But evidently, that isn’t enough for Danny, as he follows Vlad’s trajectory, both hands glowing green.

“I think I’d know what my own mom thinks better than you would,” he says, letting loose his two-handed attack.

Vlad reorients himself in time to roll out of the way, readying an attack of his own. “Would you, though?” He shoots off a series of ectoblasts, sending Danny on a zig-zag path of evasion. “You only knew her as a mother. I knew her as a person. As a friend.”

“Ha!” Danny laughs once, derisively. “Some friend you turned out to be. Chasing after her like a creep even though she proved over and over that she didn’t love you!” As if to drive the point home, he launches himself forward, fist extended.

“I knew she didn’t love me!” Vlad catches that fist in one hand, then pivots to let Danny’s momentum carry him forward and away. “Even so,” he says, readying a shield for the inevitable return fire, “she didn’t want me dead.”

Danny doesn’t deign to answer this with anything but the expected ectoblasts. Vlad lets a few of these hit his shield before dropping it and disappearing, only to reappear behind Danny. The boy startles but isn’t fast enough to move out of the way before Vlad’s arms are around him, pinning both of his own arms to his sides. He kicks ineffectually, tries and fails to phase out of the grip, then flings his head backward, forcing Vlad to turn his head back and forth to evade while still holding on.

“Daniel, listen to me for once!” Vlad shakes him, a maneuver so silly and unexpected that Danny’s attempts to escape cease momentarily. “Madeline did not want me dead. Me. Someone she did not love, who she probably even hated in the end.” If holding Danny is taking all his physical effort, it takes all his mental effort to push the surge of heartbreak down and away for later. He’s never properly admitted that to anyone, not even himself, even though he knew it. He’d hoped . . . Well, he’d hoped there would still be time to remedy that. But this isn’t about him, not right now. “If she didn’t want me dead, seriously consider: How would she feel about someone she did love trying to end themselves for her sake?”

Danny gives one last half-hearted kick to Vlad’s shins before going limp. Vlad watches for any telltale signs of another attack being prepared, but none come. After several long minutes, the boy in his arms begins to shake, but not like he’s trying to get away.

In a voice thick with emotion, Danny asks, “Then what?”

When he tries to turn to face Vlad, Vlad lets go. Danny drifts away, but not far, and wraps his arms around himself. The tears building in his eyes aren’t surprising, but Vlad still isn’t sure what to do about them.

“She’s not here,” Danny continues. “She’s not here to tell me what she’d want me to do. She’s gone. They’re all gone. I don’t know who I am without them. So what do I do?”

The words are echoes of his own thoughts, reaching across decades to tear open a hole in his chest that he thought he’d long since patched over. They’re gone. I’m alone. What do I do without them?

“You live,” Vlad sighs. “For yourself, if no one else. Although, you have at least a few other people willing to give you a reason if you don’t feel that’s a strong enough one.”

Danny’s hands come up to rub at his eyes, and he seems to be fighting back more tears, wiping them away until—

He loses the fight.

He lets a sob slip free.

They don’t stop, and suddenly his head is pressed to Vlad’s chest, hands still covering his face but not enough to hide the deep, hitching breaths. Vlad’s hands hang uselessly in the air before his brain catches up and he wraps his arms around Danny again, much more loosely this time.

“It’s not fair,” the boy says between sobs.

“No,” Vlad agrees.

“I miss them so much,” Danny says, voice tight like he’s struggling to get the words out.

Vlad nods. What else is there to say?

“I wanna go home.”

That gives Vlad pause. Technically, there’s nothing stopping the youngest Fenton—the only Fenton now—from going back to his family’s home. The Fentons’ effects have been removed, personal items put in storage by Alicia, laboratory equipment largely claimed by Vlad, except for a few items stolen by various research facilities he’s still trying to track down.

But he also knows that’s not what Danny means. He doesn’t just want to go back to the house; he wants to go back to the way things were. He wants to return to a house full of people, noise, life—but he must know that’s something that he can’t possibly do.

Vlad wonders if Danny has gone back at all in the last few months. If he has any of his parents’ or sister’s things to remember them by. Would it help Danny to go back, to see the place where things had once been good?

Would it help either of them?

Vlad pulls Danny away, but only far enough to look him in the eyes. “Do you really?” he asks.

Danny takes a long, wobbling breath and nods. Then, “Will . . . Will you come with me?”

“Of course, little badger.” He offers a small smile as something other than grief worms its way through his chest, a feeling he’s not at liberty to examine just now. “Did you want to go now?”

Danny turns his head to look out into the vast abyss of the Ghost Zone, clearly thinking. Then he decides, “No. Not yet. I, um. I should probably change back and eat something first, like you said. And then maybe . . .”

A weight Vlad didn’t even realize he was carrying lifts, and he can suddenly breathe a little easier. “Of course. If you’d like to come back to my home for a bit, I’d be happy to get you whatever you might be hungry for. On one condition.”

Danny sniffles and straightens, looking more like himself with every passing moment. “There’s always a catch with you, isn’t there? What do you want?”

“I want you . . . to call your Aunt Alicia and tell her I did not kidnap you so she doesn’t send a goon-squad manhunt after me.”

Danny lets out a laugh, brief but real, and it feels like the world rights itself a little bit more. “She would, wouldn’t she?” he asks, wiping the last of the moisture from his face.

“I have no doubt. But if we could avoid that, I feel we’d all be better off. So, food for a phone call. Deal?” Vlad holds out his hand.

“Deal.” Danny shakes the offered hand, then holds it for a second longer as he adds, “And thank you.”

“Yes, yes,” Vlad says, waving both hands through the air as if to dispel the miasma of feelings that’s quite thoroughly surrounded them. “Let’s just get you back in one piece, hmm?” With that, he turns and heads for his portal, not giving himself time to worry that Danny won’t follow.

Danny does. “Always finding ways to save your own skin.”

Vlad does not point out that it wasn’t just his own skin he was worried about saving this time.

[thewebcomicsreview]

Happy 10/25, the third most important religious holiday in the Homestuck Calender, and we got a new HS2 to celebrate, focusing on one of the new kids. The new kids were one of the parts of Homestuck 2 I actually liked, so let's see how the new writers handle them! With a Jailbreak reference, apparently.

Wait, hold on, deep lore: thespiansGlamor is Harry, glutinousGymnast is Tavros. RecidicivousGainsayer and gavageCunctation are names we haven't seen before. GC fits into the AGTC DNA theme of all the screen names we've seen so far (it's Terezi's acronym), and RG doesn't. They might be random NPCs, but they might also be foreshadowing. Also, neither Rose nor Kanaya appear to be on their daughter's friendlist, unless they're under the scroll bar, but maybe that's not weird.

What, uh, what did she draw the key with, HS2? That's her blood color, but she's not bleeding.

Also, who's narrating this? This has been a question in HS2 all along, but the narration here calls attention to itself more. It's much more "Homestucky" than HS2's had been.

We even have narration describing conversation, which is something HS2 has never done and HS1 restricted to carapacians.

You suggest to Vriska that you should go the other direction. Vriska says nah this is definitely where we wanna be. She says between the two of you, you've probably got enough luck to take this whole place off the map if you really wanted. You ask her what the fuck she means by that. She says you know like with your Thief of Light powers. You tell her you don't have anything like that. She says huh, weird!

Oh FFS now I have to go look up if post-Retcon Vriska met Aranea, her own dancestor who was not a Thief of Light. That's such a weird thing for Vriska to assume, that Vrissy not only has Vriska's powers but has mastered them. Also, I wonder if this narration style, besides being a Jailbreak reference, is because the new writers aren't confident writing the HS2 characters yet? Or maybe they just don't want Vriska/Vrissy dialogues because they're kind of hard to read.

I like these expressions. I also like this continuation of Candy Lore, that all the HS1 characters see Candyland as a "fake" universe and that's part of why they fucked around so much and got so fucking weird, whereas we see here that the actual Candy Natives do not see their planet as "bootleg". The fact that the HS parents don't think of their own children as entirely "real" is actually super fucked up, but I guess Yiffy's got the main right of complaint there.

I like that Vriska, who can fly, still makes Vrissy give her a boost. What a jerk!

Vriska says now THAT sounds like some shit a REAL Vriska would say! You roll your eyes and start to leave when Vriska calls out to ask if you're going without wishing her good luck. As you start to wish her luck she cuts you off and tells you to keep it, as she already has aaaaaaaall the luck she needs. You say okay dude.

I don't know if the original HS2 writers intended for the resolution of the "Vrissy kind of idolizes Vriska" subplot to end with "Vriska's so fucking Vriska that Vrissy is disillusioned within literally minutes", but it's honestly kind of funny and I like it.

JANE: From the conversation recovered from Egbert's phone, we've learned that Roxy has been... conspiring alongside the rebels for months now. Operating a lab deep within the ruins of the Troll Memorial Meteor, she and her coconspirator Calliope are preparing some kind of super weapon they've dubbed "The Plot Point". JANE: Heretofore referred to as The Point.

This feels a little like shade.

JANE: Let’s get to The Point!!

A lot like shade.

It's a little convenient to the new team that they took over right when HS2 was starting to actually go somewhere, but regardless, that was a neat page. I got a soft laugh out of it, the plot is starting to move, and there was some decent worldbuilding.

[trashyandtiredsol]

UPDATED: November 23rd, 2024

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[twilightarc-gm]

For the ask game, main fic, please?

For this Tag Game. Pallas~ Hiii~

So like, 'mainfic' more properly titled "This River Runs Beyond Heaven and Earth" in English...

Anyone on either the Chengxian or JC discord servers have heard something about 'mainfic'. Anyone who has read the author notes on my published stuff also know a little bit about it. It's the behemoth multi-part story I have been working on since November 2021 and is on its second draft currently.

All the world-building and plot hole filling I have ever done for Modao Zushi is in mainfic: A post-canon, canon-compliant, JC-centric, slice-of-life with some action, family drama, made into high fantasy, with fluff, some hurt/comfort and of course some angst. Features ymsj recon, OCs, established JC/ OMC, getting together chengxian, major(?) character death, mythical monsters and disastrous mayhem, along with some political drama supplemented with "the True master of Demonic Cultivation".

Also dogs and JC's menagerie of spirit animals. Because I can.

Every headcanon I have is in mainfic honestly and what can't be handled by the post-canon drama is then brought up in flashbacks, MXTX style.

1st draft was 200k at 1/3 done. 2nd Draft is probably going to hit 200k again for only a 1/4 done? Hard to tell. I keep accelerating the timeline for ymsj recon because I keep heaping on the trauma for Wei Wuxian until he breaks over and over again. 🤔 Meanwhile JC is just trying to 'let the past go' like he was challenged to do at the temple, but evil forces are very interested in his gifted golden core... Oops...

It's hard to find a good snippet for the entire story but here's something I like:

“What demon attack?” Jīn Líng snaps his attention up. “Nothing Yúnmèng Jiāng can’t handle. It might not be a real problem anymore now that I don’t have Chenqing.” Cultivators emulating the Yílíng Lǎozǔ trying to infiltrate or attack Liánhuā Wù have steeply dropped off since the Yílíng Lǎozǔ’s return. “Still, if I can train a pack to help secure the sect, it’d free up more of my people to make circuits within Hubei.” Jīn Líng flips through pages without real focus. “I still don’t understand why you have to do this. It’s like you want him to stay away.” He tosses the book back on the table and crosses his arms over his chest to emphasize what Jiāng Chéng is sure is his best angry face, but Jiāng Chéng can only see the puffy cheeks of youth and the beginnings of a tantrum. “I said he asked after you! He wants to know if you’re well! Doesn’t that mean anything? Why won’t you let me tell him anything?” There’s one book that features a mountainous breed that is kept by some Buddhist monks. It’s this one he makes notes on, weighing pros and cons of bringing such a fluffy, massive breed this far south in the humidity and near water. “Jiùjiu!” “So? He’s always been nosy. He can settle for gossip like anyone else.” No debts. They are strangers. It’s in the past. Jiāng Chéng forces himself to take a subtle, long inhale so the burning in his lungs will stop and the cord around his heart will loosen. Fairy whines as she shoves her face into his knee. “He was just…” Jīn Líng deflates; gives into a childish sulk. “He laughed it off, but for just a moment I thought maybe he didn’t like it when I said I couldn’t tell him.” Contrary to the awful subject, Jiāng Chéng does feel a deluge of gratitude that Jīn Líng is keeping his mouth shut like he was asked. Wèi Wúxiàn has already been hurt by Jiāng Chéng in both lives, so what’s the point of reminding him that they ever had a connection at all?

---

Okay, but ow I hurt myself in just this snippet 😭

[surplus-of-sarcasm]

About This Blog

Hey, this is the little gremlin again, and since most tumblr users have some sort of 'about' page, I decided to create one. And also because why not?

Note: This is my main blog. Likes, follows, asks and replies are from here. It is also my writing blog, where I post my own writing and sometimes reblog other writers' works.

My Masterlist

Natalia's Masterlist

Not interested in all the semantics and just looking for the writing? You can find all my writing in the link above, as well as my master tag list All the other info, like rules, squicks, my special tags and some background info can be found under the cut.

About the person behind this

You can call me Natalia.

My pronouns are she/her

I'm straight

I'm 18

I'm a college second year majoring in computer engineering

I'm not sarcastic at all, no no no. And my non-existent sarcasm doesn't catch people off-guard at all, no sir. Totally serious 100% of the time. Even my url says it.

I write stuff here, and the details r in the next heading

I'm an adult, but please dni if you're going to discuss inappropriate content

Wanna spam my notifications? Go ahead, I'm not stopping you. I actually encourage it, lol.

I like fandoms, caffeine, chemistry, math, reading and writing (*le gasp), and a whole lot of other stuff!

I'm not mean, I promise. Just a little, snarky teen haha.

I look nothing like my pfp.

I'm a villanous assassin!

I have undiagnosed high-functioning anxiety, may have ADHD and I experience obsessive thoughts. So please, no hate on ND ppl here.

I'm fine w/dms! (as long as they're not creepy)

My fanfiction sideblog is @so-hot-i-make-hell-jealous

My silly, non-writing sideblog is @yoursssstruly

My Writing Rules

I may be an anarchist, but I need some rules here.

Stuff I do write: hero x villain (supervillains, sidekicks and whatnot too), hurt/comfort, and I might post snippets of a story I'm working on and whump, fluff, maybe some crack, and romance!

Stuff I DON'T write: NSFW content of any kind, smut excessively dark whump (I get anxious with things that take it too far), incest, pedophilia, rape, emetophilia, and while I do write romance, suggestiveness is toned down and I don't write nsfw romance.

Do not ask me to write anything I said I don't write. It's pointless because I won't force myself to write it.

I don't write make-outs and kisses on the lips

You can totally use my writing for inspiration, as long as it's tagged as a prompt, you can use some lines, but just not the whole thing word for word, provided that it's tagged as a prompt. You can continue it, even if I've done a continuation.

If you use any of my prompts, please give credit and tag me! I'd loveee to see what you come up with!

Anything tagged as NOT A PROMPT is not for use.

I DON'T appreciate reposts, but I do love reblogs. Don't hesitate to use super long tags, analyse it or give lengthy commentary, I'm actually down for that stuff.

I don't mind my stuff being reposted on other social media as long as you give me credit. NO reposts on Tumblr, please.

Pairings are usually gn/gn. The other alternative is f/m

I typically write hero x villain, but I have other non-hero x villain stuff out there! Like fantasy, sci-fi and certain fragments of my wip (some of em are actually h x v!)

I don't really do xreader fics.

Ask Box

Don't be afraid to send me an ask!

Please don't ask for any of the stuff I told you I don't write

I may take some time to respond because I have a crap schedule

I might not answer asks if I don't feel very comfortable writing them. No hate, I just got on this app for my own fun, so I don't want to force myself to do smth I don't like, and it'll probably come out as a crappy piece of writing anyway

You can ask me about non-writing stuff too! I don't mind talking! Just please don't make the questions too. . .creepy.

Don't use the ask box to harass me. You'll probably regret getting on my nerves

Favourite Tropes

Where do I even start? I'm very indecisive.

Enemies to lovers

Alliance of convenience

Fake dating (turned not-so-fake)

Two whumpees caring for each other

Scary, unhinged hero x terrified villain (who's probably secretly in love w/them)

Flirty x flustered

Whumpee gets revenge on their og whumper, preferably through violent murder

Morally grey characters

Found family

Heavy angst w/a fluffy ending

Psychological manipulation

Cocky hero x flustered villain

Warnings

Because some of my content may be triggering to some people. I typically include trigger warnings above my posts in red, and I recently started putting them in the tags, too. Please note I don't condone any of the harmful stuff here IRL. I write FICTION, not meant to be used to judge me morally. ✨️Lmk if there's anything you want me to add here!

Violence

Blood

Bruises

Betrayal

Implied torture or past torture

Mental health issues

Manhandling

Drowning

Abusive relationships

Yandere whump

Bone Fractures

Failed escape

Miserable (I write sad stuff sometimes)

Threats

Fear

Description of torture aftermath

Occasionally, torture

Lying

Burns

Restraints

Usage and mentions of weapons (guns, knives, etc)

References to a difficult past

Vomiting

Starvation

Scars

Self-harm

Obsessive thoughts

Fear of heartbreak

Criminal activity

Death

Somewhat graphic descriptions (they aren't too horrible, but they may make some people uncomfortable

Non-con touch (not sexual)

Drugging

Poison

Kidnapping

Hostage situation

Exhaustion

Stress positions

War/war aftermath

Captivity

Fever

Delusions

Hyperthermia

Very flirty (Listen, I generally write pretty light stuff, but they can be seen as juuuust a little bit spicy, and different people interpret things differently, and I won't judge people for seeing things a certain way, but in case it makes you uncomfortable. . .)

Adding on to the last point, this kind of fic will contain touching (not sexual), kisses (not on the lips), and pretty flirty remarks (nothing sexual)

Smoking

Alcohol/use of alcohol

Squicks

I write violence n all, but I have limits. I will NOT write anything mentioned here and will refuse any requests with these.

Eye, mouth and ear whump

Extreme gore

Whipping

Branding

Vore

Amputation (unless it's a fantasy monster that has to die OR it's environmental whump. Someone doing it however, nope)

Muzzles (I'm fine with gags, though)

Collars

Sadomasochism (some of my characters are sadistic, but non-sexually. Also, no masochistic characters)

NSFWhump in general, (whether extreme gore, sexual assault or sadomasochism)

Animal abuse

Anything I don't write in the Rules above

My Tags

Aside from the usual tags on writing, I like to add my touch to a few of them. You may see:

#nat writes

#a little gremlin's writing

#natalia's writing

And for asks

#the little gremlin answers

When it isn't about writing

#not writing and/or #natalia.txt

When I like it, but it isn't mine

#not my writing

When you can read, but you shouldn't USE

#NOT A PROMPT

Timezones n next days (yes, they're self-reblogs)

#timezone reblog

#next day reblog

To clarify

#hero x villain -> just means it has a hero and a villain. can be platonic, familial, just enemies or romantic (this applies to any A x B)

While. . .

#hero/villain -> means the pairing is romantic. (applies to anything with a slash)

I know other ppl use them differently, but that's how I do it. I typically tag with genre to help, like #romance or #friendship

And the most important rule of all

HAVE FUN!

Xoxo,

The villainous assassin

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜

[skiesandflowerss]

sky, i am kind of going through a writer's block and it is bothering me. do you have any ideas that i can write on? any prompts? and pov's you'd like to read that i can write? any emotion that i can write on? and fictional scene? anything? any ideas are welcomed! but of course, no pressure to come up with ideas if that'd cost you lots of energy and time. you can choose to ignore this ask as well, no problem at all. thank you. <3

and i hope you are doing well! and, also, life update. i got done with almost all of my interviews last month, so i have been very free and living these slow days without any care. it's been fun ngl but some days i get a little sad because of the lack of events in my life. anyway, next month it'd be decided which college i'd be going to for my post grad. i really really hope i get a good one! :" and i read and watched a couple of things during this free period, and they were all so good. makes me fall in love with life when i come across things that capture all my attention and make me appreciate art and the people behind it. :")

Imaaa, I don't know if i will be able to help you much here cause I haven't picked up a book to read in a while and honestly my mind is all blank these days but I do have some suggestions or lines or povs you might can write on, I hope they help you:

'You're far away,' she says, returning you to the present. 'Don't hide from me.'

You have never loved from a distance, but then you have never known love like this. You want to tell yourself, and her, that it will be OK, that nothing will change, but you don't know.

You are ending the summer, wondering how it is possible to miss someone before they have gone. There are lives moving around you but they are of little concern.

Have you ever been afraid of what lies within you, what you're capable of?

You can't live in a vacuum. And when you let people in and you make yourself vulnerable, they're able to have an effect on you. If that makes sense.'

To live with other people is to be responsible for protecting them from your moods.

It was so gorgeous that it almost felt like sadness.

Maybe I was afraid of seeing anything as absolute. I wanted to keep moving, like a stream, and I wanted to go on watching everything from a distance.

Truly happy memories always live on, shining. Over time, one by one, they come back to life.

I've always been like that—if I'm not pushed to the brink, I won't move.

What a pain I thought, wondering why everyone felt such a need for reassurance.

(Ps: these are all quotes from the books I read last year and also I read a book Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson last year which kind of gave me many ideas to write on like this book helped me write quite vividly and this book is hardly of 130 pages so I would suggest you to give it a read in your spare time, I think it will help you come out of the block)

and I'm doing fine, my exams are close so I'm not doing any extra activity which is basically reading these days but yeah and glad to hear that you are finally over your a-little-stressful-cum-eventful-days and do enjoy your mellow days and summers are here so do have a fun time attempting activities that can attract your creative brain and yes you have had quite a busy month so do relax and take care of yourself. Hoping that you get to choose your desired college and have a great time pursuing your masters. Sending you positivity, hugs and sunshine 🌻🌻🌻

(another ps: I will keep adding lines or prompts as I get time and ideas)

[acourtofthought]

I saw the post that the other anon was referring to!!! It almost sounds as if they take Az being passive and only acting at someone else’s prompt to mean that he never judged, or was dismissive or forced Elain or etc etc when in reality, he probably didn’t care much in the beginning at all…..not until, as you said, he saw a “damsel in distress.” She’d been there for months after all.

On the other hand, SJM took the time to let us IN Lucien’s head for us to see exactly just how much he cares and what he’s thinking. I mean, even before that too! He tells Feyre that he’s coming with her to get Elain, to see what’s going on with this mating bond. And let’s even go further BACK—during the whole transformation, Lucien broke his bonds, manifested powers he probably didn’t know he had and ran to Elain. SJM didn’t even have Az look twice. So this argument that Az cares the most or done the most for Elain but Lucien hasn’t been there is just so ridiculous. It all stems from all their “well maybe off the page” argument. Now THAT is fanon. And they have the nerve to call the bonus chapter fanon when that is, by definition, CANON because SJM wrote it and published it. They’re just in denial that the bonus chapter HEAVILY favors Gwynriel. They just keep twisting and using things to their own argument and disregarding everything else.

Okay, rant over.

Thank you sage Elucien master for listening! You’re blog is a safe space 😂

You know, the "Az being respectful and not forcing Elain" argument wouldn't be a bad one if it was applicable to the actual situation.

As it stands though, that argument in that scenario would be like my being sick with the flu and you not offering me liquids because you don't want to come across as forceful or pushy 🤦😂

When someone isn't well and you're trying to help them out of concern (or if you're concerned for them in regards to something else like ensuring she has a weapon), you reach out a hand, offer suggestions and express that concern. Sitting there and doing nothing so you "don't look pushy" doesn't come across as a kindness and being respectful, it comes across as if you don't care.

You made an excellent point about how far back Lucien expressed concern for Elain (all the way back in ACOMAF when he tried to get to her before she was Made, broke free of the spells after she was Made, offered her his coat and held her in his arms - before he even realized they were Mates) and I think it's a good thing to remind anyone doubting Elucien of.

As of ACOFAS, Az was still looking at Mor with hunger and longing. How can anyone say he has cared for Elain in a romantic sense for books upon books when he canonically was in love with Mor one book back? Had Mor looked in Az's direction I'm certain he would have dropped his piggy backed attempts at helping Elain like a hot potato.

It's interesting how the Cassian Bonus Chapter was canon and valid for future books. How the Chaol Bonus Chapter was canon and valid for future books. But ONLY the Az Bonus Chapter means nothing.

Weird right?

P.S. I'm sure I don't truly deserve the title of Sage Elucien Master but I can't deny I totally got a kick out of it and will secretly call myself this when I want a little ego boost 😁😁😁

Thank your message! ❤️

[strangelykorryn]

I cooked for my boyfriend and step daughter today, but made myself something else and was so surprised I actually didn’t eat what I cooked for them.

Made them fancy French dips with fresh sliced beef, au jus, and provolone. Melted the cheese/toasted the bread in the broiler and warmed the meat in the au jus. Gave them Mac n cheese on the side.

I ate sautéed mushrooms and a very small avocado (my favorite lately). Oh and an orange later on. After fasting (other than like 3 tiny pieces of food at work but I’m not counting it because I do not feel like a glutton for punishment tonight)for just under 24 hours.

I’m not big in real person standards, but I can already see a change after of few days of hopping on the restriction bus. No bloat, much less tummy, and just feeling much better though I am so far from where I hope to be in a week or two.

My boyfriend got me a bunch of books today and it was so so sweet and thoughtful. I am almost done with “Water for Elephants”, and so far I can feel it building to a horrifyingly sad end, but it is masterful. I am a huge Twilight nerd since back in the days when the books came out and in my head I keep seeing Eddie Boi as Jacob Jankowski the main character since he starred in the movie. I am not mad at this and will continue to picture him this way :)

My page isn’t really geared towards books but with my book challenge I am doing I think I might try to compile a master post of all the books I’ve completed so far this year, and hopefully some sort of short review on the off chance anyone else sucked into my preferred side of tumblr like books too. Trying to will a bookish friend into my inbox, so I have someone to gush over books with eventually.

I’m off work tomorrow and I think I’m gonna take a long walk in the woods with my darling pittie mix Mu-Moo. She loves to see squirrels dart on the paths, and there’s a picturesque dock midway through the trail that I love to walk down and look at the water and sky. Maybe tranquility will catch up with me there while I try to walk off some fat and calories.

Ps I’m telepathically sending all of you thoughts of encouragement on your journey wether you suffer ongoingly or are in recovery. May the world take you (and your body) in the way you desire.

Xo, K.B.

[squeemcsquee]

PeoriaCon 2023: Sunday

I split Sunday at the con between my friends Ren and Cody. My main goal on Sunday was to meet Walter Jones. To my surprise, the line was considerably shorter – I waited maybe 5 minutes? I had an old Power Rangers coloring book that I asked him to sign, which he did on both the front cover and an interior page. And I got a photo as well. It was expensive, but worth it to meet someone who was such a part of my childhood. And he was very kind – I was super nervous about meeting him and he definitely has a knack for making people relax.

After that, Ren and I wandered for a bit. They kindly waited while I decided to try out the Simpsons cabinet that I’d ignored on Saturday. They weren’t interested in playing with me, but another congoer joined me at the cabinet, and we did our best together. I recognized him as someone I’d spoken to about the Walter Jones line on Saturday and as we fought our way through Springfield in the game, we talked about our love for Power Rangers. It’s nice having those random moments of connection, whether they’re formed in a line or at a game cabinet or just walking around. It’s a reminder that we really are a community.

After my brief stint at gaming, we wandered the vendors a bit. Ren browsed one of the sword vendors a lot and was eyeing a version of the Master Sword but ultimately decided against it. We also found artists who Ren might commission cosplays or artwork from in the future. I loaded myself down with more prints and some other small items.

After a couple of hours, it was time to part ways with Ren and to meet up with Cody. Cody was also after an autograph from Walter Jones, so I just people-watched and played Pokemon Go.

 The 501st and local Ghostbusters unit were on hand both Saturday and Sunday and they were wandering around the con. I noticed that on the whole, there seemed to be less cosplay on Sunday, though I think cosplay photography was still being offered. I did get a few cosplayers, though.

After Cody got his photo and autograph, we looked at the panel list.

 Once again, nothing caught my eye, and Cody isn’t as gung-ho on panels anyway. So we went to the gaming cabinets so Cody could get some free play on Ninja Turtles.

And then, yet another round of shopping for me. Cody did far less shopping and far more excited messaging with people about his autograph, but I can’t blame him.

I noticed there was an artist doing caricature work. I had never gotten a caricature before, so I decided, why the heck not? 

She and I spoke about her experiences at the con over the course of the weekend while she worked on the caricature. I found out that doing the caricatures wasn’t her original plan, but she decided to offer it just to see if anyone would be interested. As she finished mine, a young attendee and their parent walked up to inquire about getting theirs done. So I know she had at least two caricature customers. I hope she got others – she was very nice to talk to and talented. I also got some prints of her original artwork.

And then it was time to call it a day. Sunday was far less eventful, but since I’d neglected a lunch break, I was more than happy to go when I was done. But I do need to show off what was probably one of my favorite purchases all weekend, because boy do these miniatures bring back memories of how things were right as I started attending cons. 

All PeoriaCon 2023 coverage:

Saturday

Sunday (current post)

[raven-cincaide-words]

𝓒𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓫𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴/𝓱𝓲𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓼

When writers take a break because something happens- you lose a friend, burn out from writing or spend three months obsessively creating a master thesis on naked activism to the point you can’t stand seeing another dick or titty- the absence is talked about a lot. Including a ton of support. So WE see tons of posts about writers and artists deactivating, leaving, or disappearing because of one thing or another. But, what we rarely talk about is the ‘coming back’ part. 

Especially if you’ve grown a bit of a following in the months you’ve been gone, and suddenly you log in and see all the people who adore your stuff and can’t wait to see more of your work, and who are so freaking overjoyed you’re online it’s surreal, it’s amazing. Really. But it’s also pressure. It’s pressure from them and pressure you put on yourself to come back as if nothing happened and continue writing as if you hadn’t just torn up all your art and shut down the draft folder in frustration seemingly for good. 

To come back as if nothing happened and write to the same style, tempo, interests as you did before your hiatus, break or pause. 

But the fact of the matter is, whether it’s a week, a month or years, you’re no longer the same person you were when you were creating every waking moment of every day. Maybe you’re like me and feel rusty. The scenes are there but the words don’t flow. Or it’s like you’re stuck in a permanent writer's block staring at white pages and blank google docs. You want to write but nothing comes out, So you’re suddenly staring at quotes and guides to get out of writers block; maybe even prompts or your old works wondering how the fuck did you write this in the first place. It seems amazing in comparison to the kiddy text you’re struggling with now. 

You remember writing as ‘easy’ and ‘fun’ and now it’s not. It’s hard and painful and far from ‘fun’. So what can you do? I don’t have an answer or a magic solution but I can share what I do to make ‘coming back’ flow smoother and be less awkward for all parties involved. 

Be prepared that everything WILL take more time than it did before. If you could churn out a chapter draft a night; give yourself a week for writing and a week to read through it, at least. Keep that in mind when you set up goals (because you should have goals!) so you don’t get disappointed because you’re too ambitious, don’t meet them, and thus end up just giving up instead. Slow and steady wins the race- or wins getting back into shape.

If you feel pressure from your followers/readers/Beta readers, keep an honest and open communication. Explain that you’re still not fully back but may be around more than before- or not. Your choice.  

To take a little bit of pressure off- create a new account. Either with a similar username or a completely new one and just have fun with it, try different things, post, edit just to feel like writing/blogging/whatever you do again. A little like colouring outside the lines without knowing what it will be; if you like it, yaay, and if you hate it you can just tear out the page without ruining the rest of your pictures. At the same time giving you a chance to get back into routine, style, feel and interest of writing. 

Stay away from things that make you feel like you’re in a box; try new styles, new art, new prompts. For the time, move away from your usual settings, or usual pairings. Quite frankly, don’t even think about characters for the time being!  

But for the sake of everything holy, stay away from guides and ‘how to get out writing blocks texts’.  No, they aren’t for you, not at this stage at least. Instead focus on figuring out what- if anything- you find fun. What peaks your curiosity? What makes your creativity flow? 

As a writer I stay away from scenes or very rigid prompts. Such as A takes B out on a date. Even if it can feel like the easiest approach to getting back into writing- after all most of the work is done for you already, right? Wrong. For me that is very much putting writing into a box rather than having me explore. Instead I work with short- often one word- prompts. For example I am currently working with: Back to the basics. Here is how I approach it: 

First I look at the word, for example ‘rejection’. For me, when I write something with rejection it is almost always angst or hurt comfort. So first thing is that I define, for myself ‘what rejection means’; is it rejection of someone, rejection of something, is it from the perspective of the rejector or the rejected? Why is it important/why should we care about someone- or thing being rejected? What importance does it have and how do I convey that importance? Do I have an idea here or should I work more with the word? Maybe a synonym or antonym?

Then I start playing around with it. Okay so if rejection is always angst- can I make it the opposite, for example happiness? Can it be a happy ‘rejection’ why?/why not? Who would be happy to be rejected? (For example in an arranged marriage when one part is in love with someone else? Or maybe being rejected is the push a character needs to make a difficult decision such as move away, commit a crime, etc?)  At this point I start trying to gather my thoughts a little with; Who? What? Where? When and Why? While still circling around the word. 

Then after I’ve played around I usually have some kind of storyline or idea. No matter how rough, can be just answers to the questions above. No biggy. Then it’s time for a sprint. So I sit down and type it; usually set a 20 min timer, no distractions and type every single word that comes to mind. No edits at this point- not even spell check- just pure word vomit. 

Do I have energy for another sprint? IF yes- keep going. IF no, then I start going over the words and beating them into shape. Is it a silly fic? Which barely makes sense? Perfect, post it!

Leave it out there on your new account. Come back to it, maybe write another chapter of it, or just laugh that it exists. Then repeat it again if you feel your anxiety spike. After a while writing will stop feeling daunting- the pressure won’t be so suffocating anymore. And then it really will feel like you’re actually back. 

Liked this advice and want to see more? Check out my profile below! Main| About Raven | Beta & Rules |Prompts | Masterlist | Tags & links|

All fics and beta work are unique works by © raven-cincaide 2024. Do not copy/repost/translate or spread my work(s) without my explicit permission. If you see any of my work(s) reworked/reposted/copied anywhere, please inform me!

[farmverse]

andif i posted writing. what th

cw; adult discussing his own hypersexuality and as a teenager, mentions of teen pregnancy

“My history is… complicated,” he says lamely. His new jeans are still stiff. He hasn’t properly worn in his boots yet. His only options with his jacket are to keep it on or hold it in his lap, and his prosthetic makes taking it off and putting it back on easier said than done anyway, but it’s uncomfortably warm in the uncomfortably quiet room.

“What isn’t, these days?” The man sitting across from him reminds him almost of his mother. His laminated nametag reads Dr. Marvin Campbell, and his blond hair is starting to thin, covered with a white little hat that Farm forgets the name of. “With that Scarab guy showing up and attacking the city, I mean. Since then, nothing has been the same.”

Farm examines his fingernails. Over the years, he’s mastered the art of biting them cleanly and evenly, since he can’t hold a set of clippers with the claw of his prosthesis. “My complications go back further than that, I’m afraid. I’m… like that Scarab guy, in a way.”

“That’s right — you and your family came from another timeline…” Dr. Campbell’s fingers move lightning-quick over his exceedingly loud keyboard. Maybe the horrible sound is supposed to help him type faster. “Your original world had magic, didn’t it?”

“Not always.” Farm’s kids aren’t here, so he doesn’t bother censoring himself. “I didn’t fuck with it. Tried to stay as far away as I could. At first, I just didn’t believe in it, but…”

Boy, that old fartbag sure proved you wrong, huh!

Technically, the so-called “Vampire Queen” hadn’t done much. That had been Finn.

Farm.

The crown.

And me!

Farm flexes his left hand forcefully, then shakes it out in an attempt to banish his nerves. It sort of works. Almost.

“…It did some shit to me that I’ve… just had to learn to deal with. And I didn’t always do the best or smartest thing. I-I know that. But I’ve… I’ve done my best. Tried to give my kids a safe childhood. Keep them clothed and fed and happy.”

“And that’s commendable. You should be proud of that, Farm.”

He wants to believe it, but it feels empty.

“…But I’ve also done some things I’m not proud of.” He sighs heavily. “When I was a teenager, I put on a magic crown that granted me ice powers and fractured my psyche. I… hurt a lot of people. My own family included. And, afterwards, I made some particularly bad choices.” He shifts. “I think I felt like… I had ruined the morale of the people around me. So I had to boost it, somehow. And, one thing led to another…”

“What do you mean by that?”

“…Please don’t make me say it.”

“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page, here.”

Farm meets Dr. Campbell’s gaze, at once both reluctant and deliberate. “I told people to use me however they wanted. And they did. And I-” (Fuck, why is his throat choking?)

Dr. Campbell is so fucking patient. The look he’s giving Farm now is the same look Minerva Mertens gave him when he first tried to tell her at sixteen that she was going to be a grandmother. But he’d thrown up and stumbled out, and she had never known.

Deep breath. Slow down. Cool off. You got this.

When he tries to speak again, he manages to keep his voice level. “…I gave birth to my first son when I was seventeen. I still don’t know who his other parent is.”

There’s a brief pause before the next question. “How old is he now?”

The question nearly makes him flinch. Its silly, really. But he answers anyway, because to hide away from it would just be pathetic. “He’s almost fourteen. Does great in school, polite, good-hearted — he’s the reason we moved here, honestly. If he and Dez hadn’t snuck out, we’d probably all still be in Farmworld.”

“Farmworld?”

Farm blushes a little. “Uh, my original timeline.” He rubs the back of his neck, idly tucking his light hair back under his cap. “Fionna came up with the name, and it stuck.”

Dr. Campbell laughs. There’s a moment of recognition, like he’s just speaking with a friend’s father, before the veneer of professionalism goes back up over the conversation.

[semimedieval]

the chuji and obsidian date, part 1: The Grocery Store

I WISH with my entire heart that scratch still showed dates so that I was able to determine whether it was already the time of the Epic Katia/Augustine Sleepover at which the chuji/obsidian date takes place.

regardless, quartz is wingmanning hard for her brother.

Chuji frowned "We're out of food." "Maybe you could go shopping, Chuji?" asked Quartz. Then, an idea formed in her mind. "Yeah, I can. I've got money." "And Ob's got nothing better to do. He can come too!" Quartz found it hard to contain the glee in her voice. "Okay..." chuji said creeped out. "Um, do you want anything?" "Nope, I'm fine."

Chuji would have more of a leg to stand on about opposing quartz's machinations here if she and obsidian had ever hung out together of their own volition.

Augustine makes a silly little injoke about an exchange with Chuji and Obsidian from his master plan to make them share a room by the sea, and Jack, just to really hammer it in, posts,

"Cool! We all share rooms!" Spark exclaimed, seeing Chuji and Ky. "so that's what the four beds were for!"

silly. <3

"Hi, Chuji." he said, even as she was too far away for him to see. (Lol Obsidian can recognize Chuji the way I can do with my crush) "Hey duder. Her highness Quartz requested us to go shopping for food together."

"Duder" is an insane thing to call your boyfriend. Also, Augustine replies to me saying "gtg" with "(see you soon)", so I assume The Sleepover is about to happen. While Spark relaxes, Quartz basks in having successfully tricked her brother and his girlfriend into hanging out without weeping, and Ky and Lupus do who-knows-what, Rim comes out as a gamer (inciting a a brief protest from me)

Rim sat on his own bed and pulled a laptop out of his bag. He began typing on it. He had some stuff he needed to work out with interpol. And once he was done their we're always games…

Obsidian completely fails to beat the "sucks at having a girlfriend" allegations by reacting to "hey, Quartz sent us to do a task together because we are dating and presumably like spending time together" with

"W-what?" Obsidian asked. "Not that I mind but ugh, I'm going to kill Quartz when this is all over. Or at least make a shadow frog and put it into her bed." Chuji looked at him as if he had sprouted another arm, "Okaaaaay, let's go." Obsidian started to follow her. "Sorry, but it annoys me when Quartz gets into my love life," he explained apologetically. "It's okay, buddy." she said Obsidian smiled for the first time that day.

aw, they're cute! <3 to be fair in prologue material from that time (in fact, from that very day) quartz IS pretty invasive and nosy about obsidian's love life. however in this case she is being pretty normal. also obsidian dude you really need all the help you can get. as if to underscore the fact that obsidian needs all the help he can get, chuji pops the question and gets the most unreasonable response possible.

"Obsidian... I was wondering if we should go on like you know.... A date?" chuji shrugged Now it was Obsidian who looked at her like she'd sprouted another arm, and antlers to boot. "A..date?" he asked, the word feeling strange on his tongue. "yeah, you know. It's nothing but a sit down meal." He laughed in spite of himself. "Uh, okay. As long as I don't have to wear a tie." Chuji laughed "Don't wear torn jeans." they got to the store "Alright." he said, pushing open the door.

First of all, Obsidian is the world's most dipshit boyfriend and it's incredible that Lupus gets dumped and he doesn't within the text of the roleplay. "A ... DATE?" dude shut up shut up for real. Also, love this continual confirmation that Obsidian dresses like shit. It is maybe like the second or third thing we learn about him from when in the very first pages of the roleplay we catch quartz going "at least someone understands that worn-out jeans and baggy t-shirts are not the height of fashion" when spark compliments her outfit after obsidian makes fun of her for it. we hate this guy <3 (we don't really)

at length, Chuji and Obsidian shop for fruit. It's pretty sweet, and there's a reference to Oranges by Gary Soto, which is a wonderful poem and I appreciate my sixth grade self being deeply moved by it enough to incorporate it into a character's lore.

Chuji eyed the display of peaches and walked over She picked up one and after examination she dropped it in the basket "Piersic?" Obsidian asked, remembering this morning. Chuji smiled, "yeah. You want some oranges." "Sure. You know, it's funny, but they've always reminded me of fire."

I do think that despite the goofiness of the Obsidian and oranges lore, there are the beginnings of an evolving understanding of how to write grief in that little recurring image of Silva that Obsidian finds in something fairly mundane and small. I wonder where I got the idea. I also can tell this is sleepover-era without outside context clues - Silva's on my mind, because I just wrote the original Quartz and Obsidian prologue.

A brief flex as I paste in the 3.0 outline's take on oranges.

As a final treat, Spark brings out two oranges for them to split. Quartz cries out “You spoil us!” She and Obsidian split most of one, and Quartz remembers Silva. Obsidian’s head too is awash with memory. Spark notices, asks if he’s okay. “Of course,” Obsidian smiles. “You know how memory works. The strangest things can make you happy or sad, send you back in time.” Spark nods solemnly. “This time of year, I can’t smell mulled wine without thinking of my parents.” “Blackberries,” Tozi contributes. “Ripe blackberries in June.” It is one of the only straightforward pieces of biographical insight that he has ever given them. “Crows on cold autumn mornings, when you’ve just stepped outside,” says Chuji. “The way the fields around Goatville’s smelled in August,” said Quartz. “Like heat and burned honey.”

But then all traces of fruit-based memory with genuinely sad and evocative associations are wiped away as the CLASSICALLY goofy scene happens.

His eyes then darkened as they passed a display of watermelons. Although he loved Chuji, Silva was his best friend and would always have a place in his heart. Chuji stared at obsidian confused. "What's wrong?" "Eh. Bad experience that involves Monoceros, a tree, a big watermelon, and my best friend. Not pretty, believe me." Chuji looked at her feet, wondering if he were talking about silvia. They got to the veggies Obsidian flourished a carrot. "MWAHAHA! I am Lord Monoceros!" he said, but quietly so people won't stare. She picked up a bundle of carrots and suddenly frowned "Obsidian, you scare me when your mad."

Sylva's completely unserious looney-tunes death aside, as well as the fact that grocery stores as we know them should not actually exist in this world (but do, because its Semi Medieval), something about the setting of this scene is so compellingly evocative for me. Talking about things too serious for the place they're in, the intercut facets of grocery store fluorescents and deeply serious conversation about your dead friends, evokes something almost painfully real-world-adjacent in this very unreal relationship and unreal world.

Jack logs on, leading to a further neuroticism about rooms (the famous "Ky can't go in the boys' room! Smelly sock and all!" scene) and Quartz and Spark to go on a sushi date. Chuji and Obsidian continue their not-quite-argument. It's lost to time whether it was a deliberate aesthetic choice but all of Augustine's post that just consist of Chuji wandering through produce aisles and picking things up emphasize the strange liminal emptiness of grocery stores at night slightly too well. Stop making me like this scene you guys

"What do you mean?" he asked, genuinely confused. "When was the last time I was mad?" She walked on to the dairy Obsidian ran to get some bread then caught up with her. "You were saying?" She picked up a quart of milk and put it in the basket "You seemed angry at that watermelon back there." she shrugged "Do we want yogurt?" Obsidian questioned. "I mean, I don't really know. I guess I was upset, sort of." She grabbed the yogurt quietly Obsidian looked outside. The light was getting dim. They moved onto the meat "Huh, we better get home soon. Obsidian you choose the meat I'll get some bread."

Chuji, wait, he already got bread! Anyway, the painful loneliness and deeply buried unspoken things that linger in the grocery store scene are disbanded as we move on into the next step of the Katia and Augustine Chujisidian Date Agenda, which is a little intermission for dusklight robbery.

Obsidian dropped some sausages into the cart. He knew Quartz liked them, though he wasn't that fond of meat in general. (wth?! Quartz likes sausages?)

You know it's real when you give give him your texture sensitivities <3 also, there is a joke to be made about my disbelief that quartz likes sausages, but the good news is that fifteen-year-old katia and jack already made it for us.

She went around the corner only to be grabbed by a stranger. Her screamed was muffeled Obsidian looked at the meat half-heartedly. Maybe he should go ask Chuji to switch? "Hey girlie, have any cash for me?" Obsidian headed toward the bread section, then his eyes nearly turned to watermelons. Chuji wasn't there. Chuji kicked the man who cursed loudly Obsidian sent shadows to check the other departments, but nobody was there. No need for panic attacks! he told himself. She's probably just waiting outside! She wanted to use fire when something sharp was on her back The man had a knife, "Don't move." he growled

Oh, sudden muggings, crowning the list of Top Ten Dumbest Ways To Get Your RP Romance A Rescue Moment. Chuji and Obsidian you guys are the OGs and I love you but this silly little scene has nothing on Holt and Coran fighting the Lichy Lich of Lichiness together or even Fornax and Annue rotating the Tortured By Vergl Angst baton back and forth for 3,000 pages. We still love Chuji and Obsidian, though.

Speaking of Coran and Holt, we're about to come up on one of the most blatant examples of internal monologue I will later crib entirely for another, very similar character/couple. Observe, Exhibit A:

Running outside he saw Chuji with the man and instinctively adjusted the shadows. Normal Obsidian thought: OHMYGOSH, I can't let her die! Practical Obsidian said: Hm, maybe I could use the shadows to my advantage? Selfish Obsidian said: Oh no. If Chuji dies, Tozi's gonna kill me! But whichever was right, they were all in agreement: he had to save Chuji.

And Exhibit B:

"I'm not trying to be a hero, Holt, but the thing is that if I leave you to die then a) you'll have a hundred percent chance of dying and b) I'll feel guilty about it for the rest of my life and c) Choopa would end it soon anyway! So I might as well say that you're my friend and I, um, don't want you to die! Shocking!"

As ever, for all of the ways Extranei had more heart and more of a unified compelling story (and more of a story, period) than Ildaan, the characterization is the product of slightly older and wiser middle schoolers. There's only a few months' gap between the two, but Coran's silly dialogue is marginally less silly and more sympathetic than this weird quasi-comic relief moment from Obsidian.

However, he stops being fucking goofy and saves the day, while Jack comes back online, Lupus and Ky go on a romantic walk together, and Spark and Quartz go on a "totally" "platonic" sushi date.

Obsidian ran at the man, still concealed by the shadows. At the last moment, he knocked him over. Chuji was free and she stumbled away into obsidians arms He embraced her, happy that she couldn't read his thoughts before he attacked the man. She smiled and hid her face in his chest "Still up for that date?" asked Obsidian.

Obsidian.... that might be the first romantically charming thing you've said in the whole fucking roleplay. Also, hooray! They get to hug without somebody weeping. The Quartz Agenda is working out swimmingly and I have no notes for her

The Katia and Augustine sleepover moves into later hours of the night, Quartz and Spark reach their sushi place, Lupus and Ky walk through a butterfly garden, and Chujji and Obsidian head home to drop off groceries and change. I'm sure that, whatever they choose to do for their date, it will be super functional and they will not be harassed by waitstaff.

[ninewheels]

Oppenheimer thoughts

It's weird that I was posting so much before it came out and then didn't post my thoughts after actually watching the dang thing, but whatever.

Just saw it for the second time, and my opinions haven't changed much. I actually absorbed a lot more on my first viewing that most people would have because I had just finished reading American Prometheus, so I was primed to pick up on every detail. And I was impressed and just how much biographical detail Nolan managed to pack into the dialogue, but I wonder if it isn't simply too much information to give to an audience who haven't done the reading as it were. I mean, I haven't seen a lot of complaints about that in particular, so maybe not, though I have seen people taking issue with the pacing, which is definitely a related issue and which I can also acknowledge without being personally bothered by. There's a lot of story to tell in Oppenheimer's life, and it took Bird and Sherwin 600+ pages to tell the most comprehensive version of it possible, so obviously not all of the things are going to be given time. On that subject, Jean Tatlock is underserved by the film, and as someone fascinated by her (and also as a fan of Florence Pugh for that matter) I am disappointed, but I can't fault the film too much for that, because like I said, there's a lot to tell and she's a relatively small piece of the puzzle. I do appreciate the reference to the possibility that she was assassinated, but in context the meaning of that reference is so oblique that it feels like another thing intended for the already-knowledgable like me. Again, though, I'm the guy who gets it, so.

Despite the flattening of some dynamics and relationships, I feel like the film generally prioritized the most important elements. I heard someone describe it as a deconstruction of Great Man History, and I'm not sure (yet, maybe I'll change my mind) if I'd go so far as "deconstruction," but it's definitely built around the conceit that even the Great Men of History are not masters of their own destiny. It doesn't matter what Oppenheimer wanted, how he would have chosen for things to play out if he had control over everything, because of course, he didn't have control--not over his terrible creation, and not over the story of his life either. It's a film about unintended consequences, fittingly symbolized in the metaphor of the initially theorized world-ending chain reaction.

I almost forgot to note it because it feels obvious, but also, the film looks and sounds fantastic and the acting is great across the board. I feel like that's been shouted from the rooftops loudly enough that I only need to say "seconded" to communicate the point. I will also say though that with all the big names in small roles, (Affleck, Malek, Branagh, Oldman, even Pugh to a lesser extent) I am delighted by the fact that some of the character actors here got some real play. David Krumholtz as Isidor Rabi absolutely delights me in every scene, and Tom Conti does a lot to make that ending as strong as it is.

Also, one final note: the film references the fact that the Japanese were already defeated when the US dropped the atomic bombs on them (I would have had a serious problem with the film if it didn't, especially given that the book doesn't pussyfoot around the issue in the slightest) but I don't feel like it emphasized the point enough, so here's me doing it. The government knew for an absolute certainty that Japan was about to surrender. It's fact. It's known. The idea that the bombing reduced the total casualties compared to invasion is, in addition to still not being justification for the greatest single war crimes in history, is also simply a falsehood.

[silver-tongued-bby]

Pairing: Dark!Dom!Loki x Sub!fem!Reader

Warnings: (where do I start...) NSFW, 18+!!!, this is a dark Loki fic, hence it explores dark themes including major character death (loki series), mentions of violence, kidnapping and dub con, dominant/submissive dynamic, master/sub dynamic, dry humping, dirty talk, degradation (LOTS!), cockwarming, free use, edging, bondage, spit play, and rough sex. If any of the themes mentioned above upset you in any way, please do not interact!

Words: 3,026

Summary: After succeeding He Who Remains as the ruler of the timeline, Loki can’t help but indulge. Loki (2021) spoilers ahead!

Author's Note: Reposting cause I messed up the tags in the original post! Okay so this is dirty. Like really freaking dirty- so dirty I was afraid to post it here. I owe it all to a weekend spent reading dom/sub posts, the latest episode of Marvel's What If?, a few episodes of Community (mostly for the title), and not to mention the gif below.

gif via lokihiddleston

I hope you enjoy- please let me know what you think (likes, reblogs and comments are much appreciated)!

...

“Tony. The weapon’s test next week got cancelled. Sounds like they want that latest tech Hammer’s pushing.”

“I don’t get it, Pepper. How could Justin have thought that up on his own?” Tony leant back in his seat, rubbing a hand against his chin. “The guy’s tech is trash, then suddenly he’s offering a targeting system that’s at least ten years more advanced than ours? Something’s going on.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I know it’s not ours.” Pepper handed Tony a tablet, the schematics on display. “There’s not much we can do.”

Tony sighed, not one to happily lose out on a cool billion.

“Maybe it’s a sign- maybe we should focus our efforts elsewhere.” Pepper bit her lip, praying Tony would listen for once.

“You may be right. After Obadiah’s arrest earlier this year…” Tony trailed off, remembering the two CIA officers that came to inform him of his father’s friend’s plans after they’d raided his house the night before. “And now this,” he motioned to the schematics, “maybe it is time to change course. Maybe we could look into clean energy. That was Howard’s plan all along.”

At the edge of time Loki sat back in the quilted leather of his seat and smiled, closing the portal with a flick of his wrist. His little worker bees at the TVA had done their job well.

He took a sip of wine and closed his eyes, content with the new timeline he was constructing. Still leading his past self down the path to his current position, though he made the journey far more palatable.

His thoughts drifted back to that time, him and Sylvie finding their way through the castle, only to come face-to-face with He Who Remains. After his little speech, Sylvie went straight for his head, just as Loki had expected her to. And as Loki pierced her chest with his blade and the light faded from her eyes, he felt nothing, just as he had expected to.

It’d all gone quickly after that, controlling the TVA to manipulate time and his version of the main timeline, quickly ridding himself of Mobius, Ravonna and He Who Remains once it was reasonable.

Loki sighed, his mind weary from his work. His eyes drifted over to you, running up your bare legs to the hem of the shift he allowed you to don. The rich caramel colour of the silk was sheer against your skin, barely obscuring the features of your body. Your head rested on the armrest of the couch as you watched him, your eyes flickering back to the pages of the book he gave you earlier. Your eyelashes fluttered as you blinked at the novel in your hand, he’d obviously caught you staring.

He raised an eyebrow at you and cleared his throat.

Your gaze snapped back to him immediately, your eyes widening as he beckoned to you with his free hand. You swallowed, sitting upright and setting the book on the couch, your bare feet padding softly against the stone floor as you approached.

He placed the goblet on his desk then motioned to it, and you poured him more wine from the bottle nearby. You chanced a look up at his face, your heart beating wildly as you did so. His eyes were fixed on the pages before him, and you were about to go back to the safety of the couch when he patted his leg.

You looked at him briefly, his focus still on the pages, now in his hand, before you climbed atop his lap to face him. You settled a leg on either side of him, the silk of your shift riding up as you gingerly lowered your hips, your bare heat pressing against him. You trembled slightly at the contact.

“My, my. Wet already?” His voice drawled by your ear, sending a shiver through you. You kept your eyes on him, ready to look away once he turned his gaze on you though he was still looking at the memo in his hand, the TVA logo printed neatly at the top.

“Nothing to say? No apologies while your needy little cunt ruins the leather of my trousers?”

Your heart raced. Was he angry? “I-I’m sorry, Master.”

“You’re sorry about what?” His tone was ice cold.

You gulped. “I’m sorry my wet, needy little cunt soiled your trousers.”

“You’d better be. Such a desperate slut, have you been wet all day?”

“Yes Master.”

“And did you touch yourself today? Is that why you’re dripping?”

“No Master! I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.” He drank a sip of the wine, still reviewing his documents. He was half-hard, but kept reading. “Why don’t you be a good whore and grind that pretty cunt against my cock?”

“Thank you Master.” You said, eagerly rubbing yourself against his hardening length.

Loki thought back to when he picked you up, taken you from your timeline on Midgard. You had this look in your eye- a combination of awe, fear, and defiance. He’d seen to the capture of Midgard personally, aiding his former self overcome what remained of the Avengers and Thanos. He found you in Stuttgart. You were the only one who didn’t run, standing your ground and watching with a fascinated fury. His former self didn’t take notice. But he did. And oh, how he took pleasure in breaking you down and reforming you into the perfect little servant.

He smirked to himself at the whimpers you were making, pulling him from his reverie. He’d trained you so well- he was fully erect now.

He shifted his eyes to you, his expression passive as he leant back. You were a sight to behold- body moving fervently against him, the light bouncing of your body with your movements.

“Feel good, does it?”

You nodded, dazed. “Yes Master.”

“Why don’t you put that dripping hole to good use and keep my cock warm? Do you think you could handle it without cumming?”

“Thank you Master! I promise I won’t cum without your permission,” your eyes lit up and you got to work unlacing his trousers before slipping your hand in. Feeling his warm length against your skin made you whimper quietly in anticipation. You brought your eyes back up to his as you angled him against your slit and slowly lowered yourself over him. You felt a bloom of warmth flow up from between your legs, your body happy to be filled once more.

Loki went on to the next memo on his desk, hiding his smirk at the sounds of your laboured breath, you were desperately trying not to cum from simply holding him inside of you. He felt you twitch a little around him. “You know, if you cum without permission I could always lock you in that time loop again. Where you just keep cumming and cumming until you’re a mindless little fuck toy, too sensitive to be played with.”

You felt your cunt twitch around him again at the memory but quickly got yourself under control, consciously relaxing your muscles as you curled up against his chest. The leather of his light armour was cool against your skin. You could feel your slick gathering at the base of your Master’s cock.

“There’s my good little whore.” He smoothed his fingers against your head. Returning to his work, he carefully read each memo, signing off on them one by one with the mark of the Timekeepers.

Once he finished, he pulled you from his chest, his eyes going to your breasts, easily visible beneath the silk then to your face. “You were able to control that insatiable cunt this time. But I can feel you dripping all around me.”

He leant forward, his face beside yours. “Tell me, pet. Shall I use you now? Use your tight little hole to make myself cum?” His lips ghosted against the shell of your ear. He was surrounded by your scent.

You squirmed, your cunt pulling him in. “Please, please use me Master. All of my holes belong to you.”

He chuckled. “So desperate for my cock. Remember, you bratty little slut, your cum belongs to me as well.”

“Yes Master.”

He held you against him as he transported the two of you to his bed, holding your positions. “Take this off,” he nodded to the silk still covering your breasts, “and show me just how much you want me to use you.”

You felt your muscles clench as he spoke. Licking your lips you tugged at the ties on the side of your shift, the fabric delicately falling away from you. You caught his dark stare and had to still yourself for a moment, his expression alone almost sending you towards an orgasm. You took a deep breath then steadied yourself with one hand on his shoulder and began moving your hips against him, angling yourself just the way he liked.

Your breath picked up in speed and he raised an eyebrow in warning. You held the pace, and kept your incoming orgasm at bay. That was, until he pressed a thumb to your clit. You cried out at the sensation and stopped your movements to hold back your pleasure, your eyes lowered.

“Did I tell you to stop?”

“No-no Master. I’m sorry, I just-“

“No excuses.” He cut you off with a pinch to your clit. “Did you think I couldn’t feel your insatiable quim gripping me just then? I know when you are about to cum. But you may not,” he gave your ass a hard slap, “without permission.”

Your chest was heaving. “I’m sorry Master.”

Loki smoothed his hand over your ass, enjoying how the heated skin felt against his palm. He gripped your jaw, forcing you to look into his hard eyes. “You can’t control yourself, can you?”

You shook your head no, silently pleading with him.

“Such a greedy whore.” He threw you off his lap, angling you with the motion so you landed on your hands and knees, the bed soft beneath you.

You whimpered at the loss of him within you. You could hear his boots against the polished rock of the floor as he paced at the end of the bed.

Loki bit his thumb, smirking as he admired his prize. You looked deliciously enticing as you submitted to him in your position. He could just make out the gentle whimpers escaping your lips now and then as he paced. He wanted to make you wait, long enough that you’d beg. His cock twitched at the memory of the first time you did so, tears staining your cheeks from the hours of edging.

“Please,” your voice was barely a whisper.

He closed his eyes, grinning. You could barely bide a second without begging him to fill you. Such progress. He chose to keep silent, the only sound coming from him were the echoes of his footsteps. He waited for you to try again.

“Please, Master. Please use me, please fill me with your big cock. Please let me cum as you take your pleasure from my body.” You could feel your wet dripping down your thigh as your hips bucked backwards, your body taking over.

Stepping back to you, Loki smoothed a hand over the skin of your ass, spreading you slightly. “Good Pet. Let’s make sure you’re wet enough to handle me using you.” Bending, he spat against your heat, the saliva collecting against your already slick folds.

You felt your eyes roll back in your head at the sensation, at being treated like nothing more than a piece of meat to be used by your Master. Forcing yourself to keep still, you moaned as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your folds, driving every coherent thought from your brain.

After a few strokes up and down your heat, Loki thrust in, fully seating himself within you. He chuckled at your cry, and bent over you to grasp the back of your neck, pressing your face into the mattress while he rutted into you. After a few moments he pulled your head up slightly and you gasped for air. He angled your face to the side before pressing down once more, your breath in time with his thrusts.

He loved the way you felt around him. He’d known from the first time he’d fucked you that he wouldn’t give you up, at least not easily. You were astoundingly tight, no matter how many times, or from how many angles he took you. You’d only grow tighter as the blood flowed to that perfect little cunt.

He was pulled from his thoughts with your loud moans, the sounds of wet skin against skin filling the room.

“Master, I-“ you let out a strangled cry as he angled his hips up, and he smiled to himself as he kept hitting the spot within you, unrelenting.

You shuddered, the pleasure so close to being overwhelming. “Master-may-I-please-cum?” You shouted, your words stringing together.

“Hmm. You are being such a good little toy.” He felt your hips buck back against his and he smirked, enjoying the effect his words had on you. “Though I am curious to see how far I can push you…” He trailed off, enjoying your panicked whimpers.

“Albeit,” he leant to speak directly in your ear, “since you are such a needy whore I’ll let you cum in the next five seconds, or not at all.”

You swallowed hard, the tendons in your neck flexing against your Master’s fingers. “Yes Master, thank you-“

Your words were cut off when he thrust to angle himself just right, hitting your G-spot. Then his movements stilled and he held himself deep within you. You started to tremble, your heart racing.

“One.”

You blinked, willing yourself to cum- you were so close. If only he’d just move against you, even an inch-

“Two.”

You knew he’d punish you if you touched yourself to cum, thinking back on the times he’d left you a whimpering mess, your cunt raw. You felt yourself twitch around him at the memory, the way he’d used you so completely, refusing to let you cum.

“Three.”

Though after he’d let you rest and recover, he came back to you. He tied you up, and quickly brought you to the brink of an orgasm, then pushed you into the depths of pleasure. You came so hard and so much you passed out. Your cunt was pulsing to the beat of your heart as you recalled the feeling, the words he’d whispered to you when you came for him.

“Four.”

You could remember him calling you a dirty slut- his dirty slut as you rode out your pleasure. And with that memory, and one final twitch of your cunt around his cock, you came. You screamed out for your Master, thanking him.

Loki’s eyebrows shot up when he felt you come undone around him, your dripping pussy gripping his length, as if you could possibly take him deeper while you screamed your thanks. His moment of surprise was quickly overtaken by pride at how far he’d pushed you and how he clearly owned you, mind, body and soul.

He bent back over you, moving his grip to your shoulders and he pulled you up, resting your back against his chest. You were boneless, your arms loosely against your sides as he firmly held you against him, his hands kneading your breasts as he pounded into you.

Your head was against his shoulder as he fucked you, your eyes dazed as you looked up at him. He really was beautiful, you thought as your eyes traced along his strong jaw, up to his dark brow. His usually cool eyes were dark as they took in your body. They fell to your face and he raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at his lips.

“It’s so cute how brainless you get when I use you, pet.”

You nodded, your mouth open to accommodate your quickened breath.

“You love it, don’t you? When I fuck you like the toy you are, only using you to make me cum?”

You nodded again, whimpering when he pinched your nipple.

“Such a good little whore for me,” he stuffed two fingers into your mouth, his thumb pressing up against your jaw. You swirled your tongue around his digits, eagerly suckling against them.

After a few thrusts Loki felt his balls twitch and he came, his cock as far within you as he could get it. He felt your walls fluttering around him as he spilled inside of you, feeling the combined fluids leaking out of you and onto him. You were twitching against him, your body rigid as you rode out your orgasm.

He pulled his fingers from your mouth and rested his lips against your head, taking a moment to inhale your scent deeply as he closed his eyes, the tension from earlier dissipating. Opening his eyes, he set his jaw and pushed you off of him, your body falling to the bed with a soft thud. He gripped your hip and flipped you over, your body weak from the pleasure he gave you. He could see a trail of his cum as it dripped out of you.

Your eyes were barely opened as you stared up at your Master, tiny waves of pleasure still hitting you.

Loki raised a hand, and twirled it to conjure ropes that slid up from each side of the bed, slithering around your wrists and ankles before tightening to hold you spread-eagled over the mattress.

You blinked up at him, a look of concern crossing your features.

“Oh pet,” he looked down at you with a condescending smirk. “You forgot to ask permission.”

You opened your mouth to respond but he turned and swiftly walked through the door. He closed it behind him, the lights flickering off to leave you in the dim purple light from the swirling mass of space and time outside the window.

You could hear his footsteps fade as he left you to consider the fault in your actions, and what he’d do to you when he returned.

...

End Note: Is this the darkest timeline? Probably not. Either way it's the truly fucking meanest I've written Loki yet (aside from maybe President Loki) and either way I'm sorry!!!!

[rcksmith]

Dream a little of me — Kaz Brekker

Resume: One bed and two hearts.

Requests :”Hello, darling! Could I request sleeping with kaz? Imagine or general headcanons, as you like. No nsfw (no need of touching tho, do what you like with it!), just sleeping in the same bed - maybe for the first time. Also bonus points if one of them will have a nightmare👀Have a good night/day, hun!🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️🧚‍♀️✨✨✨💗💗💗”

“My heart asks for all the angst of touch starved reader falling for Kaz Brekker... 😭😭😭 - 🐕‍🦺”

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Grisha Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of post-traumatic stress, angst, fluff.

Word count: 3k.

A/N: Thank you💖 I hope you guys like.

Normal Rules.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake. Requests are open. Love you❤️

— — — — —

The rain was pouring down in torrents, in a fierce storm that roared into the shadowy forest like a hideous, unearthly animal. Platinum lightning’s streaked the midnight sky and thunder rumbled like as giants footsteps crashing into the ground and shaking the earth. Everything had been orchestrated to work. But nothing could have gone more wrong.

Unfortunately, not even Kaz Brekker's millions of tricks and plans could defeat the force of nature. And even you, an Infernal Entherealki, hadn't mastered the art of controlling fire or keeping warm while under a torrent of icy, biting cold water.

Your teeth started chattering, your lips turned purple, and you wondered if you could run another inch. Your muscles felt like stones and for someone who had lived with the heat of the flames his whole life, being under freezing water was extremely painful. But Kaz wouldn't let you stop. And you, as excruciating as the pain was, didn't want to stop either. The pain was strong but the desire not to let him down was more.

The two of you part of the plan that night was to go through the forest with the diamonds in pockets and find the rest of the Crows on the other side. You two would have to spend the night in that place. But all of Brekker's machinations were washed away by the treacherous and atrocious rain.

The only alternative was to run. Run to the direction where there was a small civilization and pray to find an inn or not die of hypothermia.

The angry drops of icy water were enough to steal Kaz's breath. Not because the cold was unbearable, but because his own demons, his past, were ghosts that gripped his ankles like monsters from horror stories. He didn't feel the rain, didn't feel the biting wind, Kaz just felt the sensation of the freezing, oppressive ocean drowning him. And for a second, when he looked at the small strip of fur on he wrist that wasn't hidden by his glove and coat, he swore he saw Jordie's dead skin in place of his.

He had to get out of there. But when the storm started, and Kaz run his eyes at you, your face wet from the rain, your skin constantly whipped by the cold droplets, and your cheeks extremely red from the cold, it made him gasp in a very different way. Blood pooled in your cheeks. Pulsing. Alive. He had to get you out of there.

Finding hiding places was one of his specialties, and he focused his mind entirely on it. When an inn came into view, a small relief rumbled in both of you. And Kaz looked in your direction to make sure you were okay. Alive.

As the receptionist gave the key from the last spare room to the two of you, Kaz couldn't help but feel that there was no longer any heat pulsing in your body. That made him feel miserable.

The night was cold. Unusually cool for the time of year.

"I don't think it's a good idea to carry out a robbery like that in these climatic temperatures." Inej said, walking down the stairs after Kaz "One of the Dregs caught a serious cold too while you were away."

Kaz had to be away for two days to sort out some matters of his own. Check some ship ports and finding out the weaknesses of some new merchants. And as much as he ordered his thoughts to focus solely on that purpose, he found himself daydreaming at certain times about…

"It got very serious after a few hours." Inej completed.

Kaz felt a trickle of worry trace his veins, tighten his throat But it wasn't for some bruteman of his Dregs. His source of concern was more serious, deeper, and for someone he didn't want to think about too much. Even though he told himself to keep every nerve in his body under control, in the end he was Kaz Brekker, he couldn't help but notice he picked up his pace to get faster to the live room that was strictly reserved for the Crows.

And when he walked in, following by Inej, the tree branches hit the windows, blown by the wind, tinkling. The cold was oppressive and biting, but not enough to stop Jesper from playing cards with Wylan, nor enough for Nina not to eat her candy and listen to Matthias tell of his people's legends. But the eyes of Kaz, that treacherous and treacherous organ, ran to you first. Magnetically, inevitably.

And he felt like he could breathe again.

The sight of you sitting on the black velvet sofa, with a book in your hands and your legs stretched out on the padded stool in front of you, calmed Kaz's heartbeat as nothing had ever done.

As much as he denies, in those two days his mind has swarmed over you more often than he thought wise. Brekker liked to justify that action with the fact that you were part of the gang. As close and important as Jesper or Inej. It was normal for him to be worried about the Dregs.

But why did he only see you? Why did the questions about your well-being and comfort stood out so much from any other concerns with others?

It was you. Always late at night, when Brekker was a sigh away from sleep. You were what someone he was thinking.

"Who is alive always appears." Nina announced he arrival and Kaz was pulled out of his reverie.

"Did you kill anyone these two days?" Jesper placed a letter on the table and Inej sat beside Nina.

Kaz left his hat on one of the dark marble tables. “Does it matter?"

There were other seats available in the room. A leather armchair next to the burning fireplace - Brekker were sure that you was controlling the temperature - an extra chair around the table where Jesper and Wylan were play, and a small divan beside Matthias. But Kaz sat beside you on the couch.

You marked the page with your finger, lowering the book gently. He didn't need to see the cover to know what it was. It was a romance clichéd eighteenth-century. He had given it to you before he left.

"Everything worked?" You smiled and Kaz had the feeling that he wanted to memorize that smile in a painting to always appreciate it.

"And doesn't always do?"

Even with the biting cold that wasn't stopped by the fireplace, Brekker could feel the heat from your body emanating, like a delicious temptation. You were always so hot. Bathed in the sun's rays. He didn't know if infernal grisha like you gave off so much heat too, because it was impossible for that to be human. Were so intense...delicious. Even with multiple layers of clothing, if Kaz approached you he could feel the warmth of a tropical pirate island.

Was that why he always unconsciously sat beside you? Why did you radiate so much causticity that it made Kaz forget about the ocean's cold? Why were you like a piece of life and Kaz felt dead for a long time?

Or was it because, heat or not, you were the only thing worth being around?

All the questions were too disturbing. And Kaz Brekker didn't want to know the answer.

Now, even climbing the stairs to the room beside you, Kaz couldn't feel anything radiating from you body. Just the cold. And he hated it with every force of his being.

You're not made to take the rain, felling deadly cold, or turn your lips a bluish hue.You were not made to be cold as a corpse, with muscles stiff and sore like a dead. You were not made to look like Jordie. You were meant to be alive. To look alive. Exhale the heat of the most ardent fire and heat a room just with your presence. You were meant to scare off Kaz's winter with your summer.

For a second, Kaz wanted to hug you to give you the warmth of his own body.

You felt exhausted. The remnants of what you once day were. Every inch of your body protested, aching and tearing at muscles. The cold, sharp water did you no good. You didn't know if it was were something of your species or a trait unique to you. But it didn't do any good to you. You hated looking so miserable in that appearance, especially in front of the one man you always wanted to look beautiful to. But at that moment you were in too much pain to worry so much about it.

As soon as Kaz had put the key in the doorknob, his gloved fingers stiff from the cold, what you expected to find was a cozy room, promising a heat shower and a good, well-deserved night's sleep. But that wasn't it. You stared at the wide double bed with white sheets, perplexed. Shock competed with your pain and put your brain to work, and all your breath lurked in throat as your realized the situation.

Oh my fucking God.

You didn't have to look at Kaz to feel his entire body be rigid, in a way far more potent than the effects the rain had caused. As if the prospect of sleeping next to you was more whorse than dying of hypothermia.

You closed your expression. Half because your mood was already bad and half because the rejection was brutal. You didn't expect your passionate feelings for Kaz to be returned, nor did you expect him to feel the same longing to be close to you as you felt for him. But no woman wanted to see that a man would rather die of hypothermia than share a bed with her. Even more if he was a man she was in love with.

You entered in room first, the pain in your body clouding your thoughts.

"Do you mind if I shower first?"

Your voice was weak, and you didn't have the heart to look at Kaz. He hissed a “no” that hung in the air, and that was the last thing you heard before closing yourself in the bathroom.

His heart was beating eerily fast in his chest. As loud as the thunder outside and as unsettling as the chill of rain. His breath began to burn heavily in his throat, and suddenly his entire body was fully aware of the situation.

One bed.

Even when he took the diamonds out of his pocket and placed them on a small table, even when you came out of the bathroom and he walked in, even as he basked in the hot water, his heart still pounded wildly. Like a generator.

Kaz Brekker liked puzzles, challenges. Of things he could unravel and understand. Piece by piece. He played to win and to cheat, and the world knelt at his feet before the insight of his mind. Still, he didn't know what to do. You were like a fascinating and maddening riddle. The one thing that, no matter how hard Kaz tried, could never unravel yours mysteries. Or maybe, just, what he would never be able to do was unravel what he felling whenever he was by your side.

His heartbeat grew stronger.

Brekker remembered every deck of cards, every card played. He could keep up with the distribution of up to five decks, unlock any lock, and devise the most insane plans. But he couldn't stop the way his soul trembled whenever he laid eyes on you.

In those moments, when you looked at Kaz like he was someone much better than he actually was, Kaz wanted to be good. He wanted to be born again to become a damn decent man. For you. He wished he didn't have his demons and erase his past. Because that way, when the sun's rays hit your face and you were close enough for your scent of happiness to flood his senses, Kaz wouldn't back down. He would lean down and seal his lips in yours with the promise of a glorious future.

His heart beat faster.

Why did he feel that his whole life was always suspended whenever he were away from you? And why did he have the feeling his life could change forever if he walked out that door?

Kaz turned off the shower. The heart running like a horse. He fished out the towel and wrapped it around his waist, finding a small hamper that held neat, folded pajamas for guests. He was surprised he didn't notice you in those pajamas. You made him lose focus.

As soon as he dressed and walked out of the bathroom, his eyes immediately went to your figure. Sitting on the bed, your legs under the covers, your hands clasped together in a cupped shape with a small, flare of fire burning in the center.

You looked up at Kaz. “I managed to do something to warm you up.”

The phrase was: No for warm me up. No for warm us up. For warm you up.

Kaz lost his breath and his soul trembled. The air felt different since he stepped out of the shower, not just from the recent gust of heat. But there was something else, something lyrical, pink and lush. Something...beautiful. He did not say anything. First because he didn't trust his own words and second because he didn't know what to say. He sat beside you, a considerable distance away, but this time his fear was that you would hear the loud, racing beat of his heart.

You turned gently towards him, reaching out your hands towards him, not noticing how his hands trembled as they stretched under the hot flame. Kaz swallowed hard.

He knew how weak and drained you were, but he also knew you were aware that he loathed cold. Hated icy water. You didn't know the depth of his traumas, but the fact that you cared to the point that you were willing to use your last shred of strength to end his torment was something that reverberated in his soul.

You two didn't say anything else after that. After Kaz removed his hands from the flame, you understood that as the end of your two interactions. You two shared a mutual answer that neither would sleep on the floor. You two were adults and in no condition to be lashed by any colder.

The night moon bathed the dark room with lights in distilled silver, almost flickering through the windswept tree branches. You were back-to-back, blankets pulled up to your shoulders, breathing gently quickened. As exhausted as you two were, neither of you could sleep.

Suddenly, the whole atmosphere in room seemed to change. Like a private, enchanted piece of the world. The wind howled softly, on a calm note. The rain was still falling in torrents, but now it seemed to be adopted in a passionate tone. As if it had fulfilled its purpose and now hovered in the world with a romantic veil of water. Stars shining bright above the bedroom window, glittering like hundreds of tiny diamonds, accompanied by moonlight. Although the light was dim, it seemed to capture the lyrical essence, seem to whisper “Dream a little dream of me.”

Everything felt different, like the two of you had entered a rift in the world. A part inhabited romance, pure magic, love.

Your soul shivered, and as much as you could never prove it, you felt that Kaz's soul shivered too. Your breath hitched, burning in lungs, your body seized by a caustic tingle that snaked through every inch.

You didn't know why, but your body shifted gently on the bed, turning slightly towards the ceiling. The racing pulse in your veins. A second felt like an eternity. Kaz's body moved too, and you knew, just knew, that he was looking at the ceiling too.

Two hearts beating in the same time. Synchronized. And, by some magic or deity, you two knew that your heartbeat would never again beat another way. Always connected.

Your body moved a little more, now on belly up. And Kaz's seemed to do the same move, even without seeing you or your movements. His chest rising and falling with intensity. The rain calmed outside, turning the symphony of droplets hitting the roof into mysterious, passionate music. As if the world were plotting a whispering favor for you two.

Kaz could feel your body heat radiating once more, grazing his skin with rays of sunlight. Everything in that bedroom became poignant and intense and lyrical, inflicting sensations on him that Kaz never thought existed before. Later, it would be a shock for him to see that he was at the mercy of his own passions. Overcome by sensations that robbed him of control of his body. Later he would think about it. Later.

His soul tingled, sending gusts of heat from the inside out. The feeling was that, after 28 years of deep sleep, he had awakened. Awake. Alive.

His body moved once more, now completely on belly up. Kaz didn't have to look at you to know that you too had placed yourself in the same position. It was as if he felt the movements of your soul. His pulse was racing now, hot and boiling in his blood. And Kaz wondered if all the money in the world would bring half the sensations he was feeling right now.

What was he so afraid all this time? That question echoed through all the corridors of his soul. And Brekker feared for the answer. What kept him from having everything he craved?

Money? Pekka? Jordie's ghost and the cold ocean? Kaz feared never touching you any more than he feared his demons? Was that why he always walked away from you? Why was wanting to slide his fingers into your hot skin and not being able to fell you, be worse than any sensation he'd ever felt? Because, maybe, admitting it can change everything?

His breath hitched.

Would it be worse to be alone for the rest of his life? Doomed and cursing to a fate of revenge, death and red hate? Or, even worse for his heart, finding a girl with lovely eyes, sunny smiles and the smell of happiness? A girl that made him laugh, come out of his hiding. You. What do he will do with that? What if you open up the door that he can't close it? And If when you hold he and his heart is set in motion?

Would that be so bad? No.

His body became very aware of the approximation it was on to your. Your heat radiating into his. For some reason, Kaz was sure you was in the same condition as he was. Sharing the same feelings. The same passion hidden for so long.

Kaz should have thought of his brother, of revenge against Pekka Rollins, of the cold of the ocean. He should have weighed of his own traumas. Instead, he thought: What if I get a little closer?

The result of this was his fingertips brushing yours. And he knew the exact moment your heart sped up even more. Because his followed the same beat. Maybe following yours for the rest of his life.

You brought your eyes to him, calmly, as if that moment might disintegrate. and the world seemed suspended in that moment. Kaz slid his eyes to you as well, sharing sensations and emotions that didn't need to be put into words. It was all there, in the gaze.

His fingers crept higher, going to your hand, and plunging his touch - and his soul - into that contact. All your heat was too strong. Too intense. Doing Kaz wouldn't be able to think or feel, for the first few minutes, about anything but light, heat, summer and…happiness.

That's when you gave him a shaky, emotional smile. I would do anything for you. That's what that smile said. And Kaz answered, his hand tight with yours before letting go. Me too.

- -

As the sun's rays, shy and buttery, flooded the bedroom in soft color, Kaz's eyelids fluttered. The sound of birds reached his ears, and the scent of flowers and happiness invaded his nose.

It was nothing like waking up in Ketterdam.

That thought back him to reality. A reality in which he had stolen many diamonds, taken the rain and had to share the calm. A reality where Kaz Brekker touched you.

You.

Kaz opened his eyes immediately, his heart racing again. He looked frantically around the room, past the simple furniture, the closed bathroom door, the window where the light came in, and then looked to his side on the bed. That's when he realized what position he was in.

His soul heated up.

You had your back to him, your hair spread out on the white pillow, your back showing by your pajama top, your shoulder rising and falling softly with your resonant breathing. You were close. Very close. And Kaz finds, perplexed, that he is facing you. One arm rests around your waist, over the thick blankets, in an intimate and…romantic gesture.

He lost his breath. His warm, hope-shining soul whispered to him: what if it was like this every day? What if he woke up with you by his side forever? What if in time he learned to be a decent man? Trying to be normal?

Would Kaz do this for you?

You shifted in bed, turning onto his side, front for him, snuggling deeper under his touch and moving closer, as if Kaz were your oasis in the desert. No skin was actually touching, your breath hit his warm chest, and if Kaz lowered his lips even further, he could feel your lips on his.

Yes. He would.