#part 1 the dark world

[terminalvelocityfrfr]

“Whatever you think you know about me... I do not like to be pushed around.”

Wrap it up Arthur you seem like you’d be nervous to tell the McDonald’s worker u didn’t want pickles

[shadowdragonempyrian]

Dark Origins: The Old World - Pt. 1

Setting: Some time before the War of Ancients... Seeds were planted so many years ago within the Black Dragonflight. Developing a hunger for vengeance and festering within each dragon, slowly breeding the corruption within their heart and minds. Not all were lulled into dropping their guard to the unknown as they plunged into the earth in search of answers and maintaining Azeroth's defense.

Tilling the dirt so that his body could weasel through, Empyrian surged through mounds of the surface as rumors above had started to trickle down to his flight in the subterranean level. His eyes blinked in an effort to protect the cornea from particles of sediment disrupted by cutting scales. But soon the earth would part overhead as the force of his body rivaled that of a rising mountain. Wings flared out at either side before engulfing the realm in shadow beneath him.

Golden eyes emerged from veiled lids to take in the surrounding area as if the feat he just managed was no trial at all. A forearm shifted forward to demonstrate the authority of his presence, forcing nearby wildlife to flee this newly conquered territory. Not that it was his intention this time.

A shrill but curt roar resounded ahead of him, signaling that his mate had surfaced nearby. Spurred into action by her call, he opened his maw in turn to answer. Aggressive and challenging, his roar demanded further compliance from those that hid from his piercing gaze. It would have been seen as a bold and reckless declaration had he been any other creature on Azeroth for such a challenge. But it seemed as if peace would never contest against his will.

Wings now had fanned out fully while raising in height before sweeping down to effortlessly raise him off the ground. His legs kicked with this motion as the bulk of his mass glided over quickly fleeing trees. Their leaves were stripped from their branches at his passing. His head, large like a great boulder slowly rotated in search of his mate's frame.

Her body towered in a way that his did, but not to the same caliber his frame had. A gradient of black scales that bled into purple colored her entire hide.

Ivoriya was his consort and obsession amongst his hoards. No treasure could compare to her as she was a natural beauty blessed upon Azeroth's surface. His heart thundered with joy as he reunited at her side with a quaking thud of his frame. Claws expertly absorbed the impact and adjusted him so that he could move quickly upon his landing to gaze upon her fully.

His vision trailed over her curves before meeting her own piercing and expectant look. A series of fangs gleamed in mischief as she quickly rose to nip at his neck in affection and adoration. The scent rising from her burned of their passion and carried a hint of their impending clutch as the eggs had recently been laid. Three were gathered into a small crater of magma and molten rock beneath the surface they stood upon.

"Empyrian," His mate stated in greeting. "You only grow when I see you."

Slowly, Ivoriya withdrew her head as eyes-maintained contact all throughout her exchange of playfulness and exaltation of his grace. It caused his jaws to flex with elation before he ignited the furnace within his lungs and expelled breath of fire overhead in offering to his mate.

"Ivoriya," he growled with resplendence enveloping his tone forcing her to lower her guard to his majesty. A forearm drifted upward with purpose before wrapping over the arch of her side and digging his claws along her spiked back to turn her over so that her underbelly would be exposed for his viewing pleasure.

She did not resist his physical command and let her claws drift down towards her crest in pleasure and desire.

"Your words sate my inner fire," she murmured in a low growl. "I know not how we did not yield a finer clutch."

Again, her words sought to make his heart sink, and his head fell forward in a show of support. He was her unyielding strength and an unstoppable force to her doubts.

"Your body is flawless to that of a pristine black diamond. Cast your fears as flames from your mouth and burn such nonsense from your thoughts."

An exhale bristled out of her, forcing a chill to slide down her spikey spine. And also caused her tail to lash out in response to his consolation.

"Of course," she hissed and gradually relaxed within his midst. For a time, they were both silent as the world around them had also become quiet. It warranted suspicion to them both before the massive silhouette of the Dragon Aspect Neltharion himself lunged out from nowhere into the sky.

Ivoriya sought to shift, but Empyrian's arm did not relinquish its hold upon her. They were still for another moment, before Empyrian's possessive grip released and allowed Ivoriya her freedom from him. He understood her response and did not fault her for it, and eventually he would lower his head before nodding faintly to his consort.

Without hesitation she dug down hastily into the ground nearby to ensure their clutch was protected. Empyrian remained resolute in his stance as his body shifted only with slight tensing of his limbs and heat roiling within his chest in anticipation should he need to release a gout of flame towards intruders.

But the tremors beneath his claws suggested otherwise and he would allow the heat within to subside once more. When Ivoriya returned, she shook her head causing the frilled skin along her head to wave freely. Her golden eyes emerged to ease his worries as pheromones of her relief bombarded his senses.

His maw parted to breathe in and exhale another growl of victory to his mate before nudging her with the end of his jaw.

"The Earth Warden moves... so it must be true." His gaze drifted in the direction of Zin'Azshari. ('The Glory of Azshara')

More roars and cries echoed from above the Kaldorei city as many dragon silhouettes filled the sky. Something was happening and the chill that fell upon his scales caused him to take a step forward in anticipation.

"They have need of us," he said to prepare his consort for flight as she reluctantly resigned to his judgment over her own. Again, her head nodded as she fell into step beside him. Her wings would move before his, as he often preferred, she would have his cover this way in the event of an attack. And as soon as she was airborne, he pulled himself into the air behind her.

Land transformed beneath them, turning from nature to that of a sentient and mortal society. Their mountains were hollow compared to their own and lacked luster in place of practical usage.

The sole skill to which he could commend them, was from their sculpting hand that cut marble and stone into mirror images of their beloved Queen Azshara. The pride of her people was within her aura always, whether it be by flesh or refined stone. Empyrian desired such for his own lair someday to protect his children and defend their home by always casting his presence abound.

"Empyrian!" Ivoriya's words broke his concentration as chaos unraveled before them. A dense green flaming stone careened skyward towards them and forced their unified flight to split.

In response, Empyrian would search for the source of his attacker before casting heavy shadows over the buildings beneath him. His descent had him brushing against buildings, which did not prohibit him from leveling them along the earth beneath his claws. Anger had rightfully been dispensed now as he sought direct confrontation with his opponent.

Though, another green fiery stone was cast his way before it hit him squarely in his armored crest. He could feel how the flaming magic sought to strip him of his scaled defenses and would raise a forearm casually to stroke the burning debris from his chest. Impervious to such foolish tricks, he now set his sights again but the moment his gaze fixated he charged.

Again, the buildings fell away from him as the ground quaked from each stampeding step. And when he was upon his foe, he could see the monstrosity they were. An apparition of envy made flesh and twisted by corrupting hatred. Like him, they were winged and possessed claws, but a less than sightly face full of fangs. Their skin was paled from discoloration and harboring the fel within their bodies.

"Foul prey should be dispelled by flame!" He bellowed as heat erupted through his lungs in a show of flames that dwarfed the demon before him seamlessly. Fire continued to roll from his parted maw until he could feel the body of his foe crumple along the ground at his claws. Ivoriya continued to monitor above for additional attackers as Empyrian scoured for evidence to the hostile reception from within the High Elven city.

Months before the place would have been something of fairy tale brimming of promise and fantasy. Now it had become a warzone, and he contemplated the nature of their battle's forthcoming. Neltharion's presence was enough to rally any within their brood to assist. But the lack of foresight on their leader's part was troubling. Or perhaps moreso was the fact they were not made aware of these developments until a few days prior.

It was unmistakable now though, as the threat to the ancient leyline that converged at the Well of Eternity's base was now a point of contention. All forces would seek to rally at the source, and he knew Ivoriya was ill-prepared to deal with the danger. His head rose in anticipation to redirect her as his maw began to open. But the sight that he saw next caused the blood in his veins to boil.

Several dragons hailing from the red, blue, green, and bronze dragonflight converged towards her. Their flight formation had left him stunned, but their assault against his mate put him into an enraged state.

He commanded his mate with a fierce roar to kill and she sought to retaliate against the bronze dragon that had latched onto her front in defiance. The bronze dragon's maw bit harshly over the right side of her shoulder and neck. While this bronze had dwarfed her size, it did not to the extent Empyrian's size had.

Her cries of pain propelled Empyrian to ascend quickly as his maw and claws sought to ground a nearby green and red dragon with his attacks. Skin tore along the sinews of the wing before the red dragon could no longer support his own weight. This forced him to fall with one uninjured wing waving above him uselessly. The collision against the earth below had killed the red on impact as blood colored the ground more than his remaining scales had.

Next came the green dragon, which Empyrian righteously bit down against the throat of this traitorous snake hard. Jaws compressed fiercely as fangs dug through flesh and muscle angrily in a show of lethal spite.

He wanted every breath that green dragon drew to cause pain and make him wish for death over life. His foe scraped with futility against his dense armored hide making Empyrian revel in his superiority in combat.

"May you not live a Dream or be a part of it any longer!" He declared as his claw swept through the underbelly of the emerald dragon. Green skin tore apart from blood-soaked black claws that retreated out of the body. With so many grave injuries, the green dragon lost her will to stay aloft and fell into a newly forming garden of corpses plastered and started by the former red dragon.

However, the blue dragon was smart and had opted to attack Empyrian while his back was turned. A series of arcane missiles barraged him, forcing Empyrian's wings to curl inward while his back arched from the force of the attack. His back hit a building that somehow had the structural support to hold some of his weight from the cascading impact of tyrannical black scale.

Ivoriya's roar called to him in urgency now as the bronze dragon had managed to force her beneath him as they now fell from the sky. His talons had taken hold in places she could not reach, and she collided into the surface of the earth much like his foes had. There were no further cries from her and the scent of her blood was immediate. The pupils within his eyes grew dangerously thin as a charming voice spoke among the countless thoughts that berated his mind.

"Your brood will be culled from weakness."

There was irrefutable truth to this, and Empyrian shifted slowly in agreement to the plan of his false mind. But the blue dragon was a pest and sought to dispatch any further resistance of his kind with another blast of arcane power against Empyrian.

Again, the force of impact shattered the structure beneath him as he barreled towards the surface below. A flash of the bronze swept into Empyrian's view as the ribboning sway of time announced his use of magic. But the black dragon was denied a choice of peace and no matter what foresight this insolent bronze whelp was blessed to have or thought he had was for naught! An ebon scaled arm rotated upon the bronze like a collapsing tunnel, forcing the bulk of Empyrian's weight over the bronze in a show of outright dominance.

"FEEBLE ARE THOSE WHO RELY ON TRICKS TO CONTEND WITH PURE MIGHT!"

The earth, which answered to the call of the earthen elementals and shaman, was reluctant for a moment - before a pillar of rock erected towards the descending bronze dragon. The tip of stone was narrow as it pierced through the bronze dragon's chest and ran through its heart before emerging out the back in a stained crimson. Droplets of blood fell as Empyrian's hunger for revenge cast them away under a strong flap of his wings. His pursuit was none other than the pesky blue dragon now that sought retreat.

Terror was chased behind the blue dragon's retreat as Empyrian surged forward with another fierce flap of his wings. A claw rose forward from beneath Empyrian as he snagged onto the blue dragon's tail to pull him towards his demise. Hundreds of sword length teeth were brought down into the azure dragon's back, before gripping at the joints of both of its wings, squeezing and stripping the bone from its back. A forceful push was given to the blue dragon with one of his clawed feet to accelerate his descent towards death.

But the runes of the blue dragon began to glow as arcane was employed to rescue his rapidly falling body. A rift of magic began to form beneath him as he fell, but just as he reached its center - he fell beyond the veil of forming arcane gateway. And by the time he realized it his body compressed into itself as blood and bone splattered into bits on the ground below Empyrian.

Unbridled rage blinded and drove the massive black dragon before he convened now at the Well of Eternity. He could not see the world in color any longer as a redness clouded his view. Golden eyes had bled into crimson, extinguishing the spark of sanity and housing a hatred so massive that even his own flight lost his trust and fell victim to him.

But there would be no solace found until his own wings betrayed him. Countless wounds had now lined his body, forcing blood to escape at any place scales no longer hid his flesh. He could feel his mind reeling with questions as he fell from the heavens.

...Did he succumb to defeat?

...Or had he run out of dragons and demons to kill?

Promptly after this question was poised, did his cerebral cortex completely fail.

The red in his eyes grew darker now as the light in his surroundings began to turn gray and fell completely still...

[sremblingdesperatly]

Quite Angels? Part 1

1334 words

Note: There will be no lemons. I know this sounds like the opening to a smut novel but it is indeed not.

CW: Kidnapping, encagement, confinement, violence (kinda), bodily damage to mc, power imbalance, unsettling atmosphere, general ominousness, infantilization/objectification, angels and eldritch beings, religious themes (I am none religious but it I have religious trauma so a lot of my work features religon)

Suddenly I began to wake up, my face was hard on the damp ground as I lay there in a heap, with my many wings haphazardly arrayed over myself like a blanket. Which was nice as any exposed bits of my form were frigid, similar to tile on a winter morning. I shivered and tried to push myself back up off the ground, causing me to wake up faster. My head was pounding… Sitting up and resting my wings neatly behind me, I realized everything felt wrong. The strange feeling originated not from my surroundings which were mostly dark, dreary, metallic, and gritty, but the sensation of my very being was completely different. It almost reminded me of a dream, where I didn't quite ever exist. It wasn’t a bad feeling per se, it was almost warm and comforting, like the humid air, moggy and thick after a downpour. 

But even though I felt that warm sensation, the room did not, it had decided, stubbornly to remain frigidly cold. I figured I should see where I was and I began to observe my surroundings. No longer distracted by how my thoughts felt. I saw that I was indeed inside a dirty, impure gold, birdcage that was almost tarnished looking. The walls of the room were a dismal grey brick and seemed if I touched them I would most likely freeze whole. 

My head turned left toward a rickety, wooden door as it was creakily being opened and in the process got caught on the stone door frame. I think they kicked the door open to get it unstuck, and in came a dark, cool-toned humanoid with tentacles where its wings should be. It strutted across the room in front of me as I sleepily squinted at it through the rusty bars of my cage.

“I assume you speak a common tongue?” The figure’s voice echoed, albeit not because they were loud or the room was very big, in fact, it was the opposite. 

“Uh.” I startled not expecting them to speak, much less say something I understood. ”Yeah, yeah.” 

“Oh good!~” They exclaimed eerily. “You can never truly know until you ask~….” They continued as they slowly approached my cage.

I backed away from the bars, and closer to the middle of the enclosure, to get away from this ominous entity.

“You know it's not often I find an angel down on the 3rd plane…” The character hung its arm through one of the rungs of my cage and used its other hand to emphasize its words. “May I ask what someone like… your wonderful self was possibly ever doing down there?”

I blinked at them still processing what they were saying “Oh yea! I was down there, you know, just looking around and uh collecting things…” They just stood there unmoving, waiting for me to continue. “Mostly just like plants, and flowers, and rocks and stuff tho. Heh heh, Nothing someone like you would be interested in!” I let a little too much of my way anxiousness at this situation show at the end of that sentence. 

“Why would you assume I would not be intrigued?” They began to back away from the cage and seemed content to observe me from a distance leaning most of their weight into one side of their hip with their arms crossed and an amused smirk on their face.

“Well, I mean, you uh. Just look like you have more important, evil, ominous, eldritch  things that you care about.” I blurted out and immediately regretted it.

“What’s that supposed to mean??!? I don’t think insulting your kidnapper is exactly your best tactic…” They seemed almost disappointed in me and rested their forehead on their fingers.

“I uh didn’t mean to upset you, sir! Ma’am! Perso-”

“ just… call me Oganesson. And don’t worry it’s fine, no harm done~.” They shrugged reassuringly, one of their tentacles mirroring each of their arms even as they continued to gesture. And I had to ask.

“Are those fake?” I hate myself.

They blinked in shock.

I facepalmed as I dug my hole even deeper. “Y-Your tentacles I mean.”

“No…?!??” They shifted onto their other foot and then after a brief reflection, began to pace to the left and right in front of my cage. 

Then they finally said, “You must not get out very much do you, little one?”

Just because of everything I’ve messed up I’m gonna let that slide. “Well, I do go out! Just not often and I’m tracked so I don't get lost, at least on the 3rd plane. In heaven, I’m a little less, restricted.”

They perked up whenever I said that. “Oh, so my suspicions were right? I didn't know angels could exist in the higher planes.”

“I mean here I am.” I need to get out of here “Why am I here?”

“Oh, I just like collecting curious, small objects to adorn my living quarters.” They stopped pacing and turned to face me. “You know those wings are very pretty… I would very much appreciate it if you would show them to me~.” They kept a respectable distance from the bars of my cage but continued to observe me.

I needed an excuse to get out of here, it’s so cold I’m shaking. “I don’t think I want to thank you very much, It’s freezing in here and they're the only thing keeping me slightly warm. Besides I don’t know if there’s enough room in this cage for me to do so comfortably”

“You say it’s cold?” They tilted their head in genuine confusion.

“YES, verymuchso!” Pull yourself together!!

“I don’t know if there’s much I can do about that… But maybe I’ll try to, if you make it worthwhile…” They said while tracing the outline of my wings from their perspective with their fingertip. “You know it’s not often one such as me sees anything like this~.” 

I tried to change the subject because I didn’t want to bang up my wings trying to open them against the metal of the cage “You know the other angels will come looking for me. And like you said I can exist here, so can they.”

They shifted their weight again as I continued “I’m a high-ranking angel! The highest in my field.” I started to approach the edge of my enclosure. “I'm sure they would loooove to mess up your little stone shack and destroy all your precious trinkets.” I need to slow down, I’m getting a little too cocky.

But thankfully they put a hand up to politely interrupt me “No need to make this personal…” They said almost chuckling at my audacity. “And respectfully I don’t think you're in much of a place to be threatening me.”

I grabbed onto the bars of my cage and stuck my head and some of my twisted torso through them “Oh really!~ You must not know the very might of heaven!” Their many eyes flash dangerously as a warning but I ignored it.

“If I had a few of my things, I bet i cou-” They rushed me and grabbed a little below my wrist almost pulling me halfway through the bars with their hand. Pain shot up my arm and a sound similar to pottery cracking continued as they spoke. 

“I Know The ‘Might of Heaven’ little bird! I just-” They backed away from me and let go of my hand, which showed the cracks in my arm. It almost looked as if I was hollow; like I was a porcelain vase with missing pieces. The area that surrounded it looked darkened as if it was burnt, they looked at the area, their eyes widening a little before they seemed to rationalize it.

“Well, being near an ancient, powerful, and (by heaven’s standards) evil entity such as myself could cause something like that to happen to weaker angels…” I rubbed my arm sorely as I watched fragments and dust fall from it onto the ground.

next

[mokeonn]

I think that the 2010's media landscape of Buzzfeed articles about plotholes in disney movies, Cinemasins critiques, and Watchmojo Top Ten scenes in movies that make no sense has truely ruined a lot of media. People are afraid that their work will be torn down if they dare leave a single thing up in the air, if they dare ask their audience to suspend their disbelief.

All too often nowadays I see stories (especially fantasy), take the time to explain how every small aspect of the world works and how it all logically makes sense. The constant time stopped to explain why an event happened, how this object works, or why this is important to the characters. It's just really not needed and it honestly makes a lot of stories worse.

I am of the opinion that the best stories truly just drop you into their world and explain nothing. They just take you through the story of this world and you just have to accept it and continue on. "When he became king, the land became barren." I don't want the story to stop and explain why this is, or how it happened, I want us to move on so we can just assume that the king has such rancid vibes that everything died.

[rita-rae-siller]

When two characters are dancing around their very obvious feelings for one another. And it’s the night before the big fight. Either of them could very well die. They both know this. One confesses their feelings, the one who’s usually so quiet, so pent up because this love isn’t something they think they deserve. And the other is overjoyed, ready to catch up on years spent pining hopefully from the sidelines. And then the battle happens. The confessor nearly dies. It comes to light they only confessed because they fully intended to die and didn’t want their lover to not know how they really felt. So now they have to navigate this aftermath. How do you deal with knowing your lover loves you, but not enough to live for you? Good soup….

[swan2swan]

Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous

"The Last Stand"

[wikitpowers]

How do you think Kit’s shadowhunter training is coming on?

By TWP I’m kind of hoping that he’s good enough to be patrolling yk!!!! I hope he’s an efficient in the last king of faerie 😅

ik tessa and jem are training him well and are definitely helping him to control his powers. but also that they really want him to lead just a normal, mundane life. and honestly, i don't mind that. in fact, i think it would be really good for him, to finally live out his childhood and just be a normal kid for a while, i think he really deserves it after all the shit he went through and i wanna see that calmer side of him <3

but also i think it would be super cool if we got to see him patrol with other young shadowhunters in his area! like i just know that would be super chaotic and funny as hell to read (cassie pls give us this!). plus it would really teach him a lot about what being a shadowhunter actually looks like and i love that (he's gonna learn things fs and i can’t wait to see it!)

so, in conclusion -> i want high schooler!kit who patrols at night and then has to get up for a maths test the following morning <3

[lunarharp]

er... extreme amount of dragon age: the veilguard scribbles to soothe my heart🐦‍⬛💀

[theaccursedninth]

I think about this deleted scene a lot. What was Malekith’s original backstory? What really happened during the war with Bor? If this isn’t about revenge, then what is Malekith after?

You all know I’ve filled in the gaps with almost too much of my own lore but still…it’s always gonna bug me we’ll never know what his official ambitions might have been.

If anyone is wondering though: this is the version of events I use in my personal canon whenever I write Malekith post-invading Asgard. Of course he knows a little too much about Ultimate Sacrifice…

[lokittystuckinatree]

LCU (Loki Cinematic Universe) Rewatch Part Three here we come!

Thor: the Dark World

Oh Gods I forgot how…indescribable this movie is. I have no words. The outfits and settings look so real and the elves look so fake?

Me every time I see Loki: oOmMgGg Hiiiiiiiiiii 😘

“Mother did I make you proud?” And the whole way he handles this scene…How did anyone ever take him seriously - no wonder he went off the rails, that’s his greatest fear

“Do you not feel the gravity of your crimes” ok this is pure speculation but going off of what we know about Loki’s moral and emotional system - he’s capable of remorse and empathy, but he tends to compartmentalize and bury guilt and shame, repress and conceal his true feelings, and rationalize, minimize and justify his actions instead of accepting what he sees as weakness, so yes, I’d imagine that deep down he absolutely fucking feels it. And it don’t feel good.

Loki justifies his imperialism genocide and violence in an imperial genocidal militaristic society but the second he becomes king he decreases military intervention something something (one of the good bits of Ragnarok)

“I don’t enjoy hurting people” But Odin does. And so Loki pretends to.

BOOOOOO Odin no one likes you BOOOOOOO SCREW YOU

oMggg Sif hiiiiiii. Look at her, Thor. LOOK at her! With your eyes! She prettyyyyy

Odin and Thor: talking about Thor’s love life. Loki probably: rocking back in forth in his cell because no one’s ever gonna love him. Another Loki at the same time: chasing his soulmate across spacetime because she pulled a Loki on him and he finds that endearing

The sets and ambiance of Asgard are gorgeous how do I move there

Yet another obscure character I don’t remember, Darcy’s in the comics now I’m so proud, Selvig’s lost his last marble, so have I Selvig, so have I

The weird gravity/time space anomaly/warp thing in that abandoned building actually makes for a fun scene. You cannot change my mind on this. The Aether is pretty creepy though ngl.

Thor and Jane are so cringe together. I love them. They also break my heart

The plot of this movie is really…something

Loki and Frigga’s bond actually makes me teary I know they didn’t have the best relationship it was strained and toxic at times but omg they care about eachother so much I’m getting emotional…she genuinely was the only person Loki truly loved in a healthy way. And he fucking lost her. FUCK

Cut to me relating to Loki so much it makes me physically recoil. I’d get into why but I’m not trauma dumping today.

“I don’t know why Loki helped the dark elf get into the palace”…lol stop lying to yourself you know the reason very well. You have the same resentment and lust for chaos inside you that Loki does…that desperate grief that makes you want to burn down the world that burned you. you know. I see my worst in Loki, and his story gives me hope that I can change. There’s a good chance I will die young (medical shit) and Loki dying young also gives me comfort.

This movie is peak Loki. I just fucking adore the little shit. I just aahfhkjkmng *aggressively squeezes*

Heimdall is underrated

Someone on discord said Frigga autocorrected to Fridged on their phone and Frigga’s dying and that’s all I can think about rip…bruh this scene hits a lot harder after my dad’s death ✌️

HE WASNT EVEN ALLOWED AT HER FUCKING FUNERAL FUCK YOU ODIN DRINK BLEACH!!!!Anyways I forgot how cinematic and heartbreakingly beautiful the funeral was

YOU CAN SEE THE SPARK LEAVE HIS FUCKING EYES IM GONNA FIGHT ODIN IN A DENNYS PARKING LOT. I’m ending on the Loki illusion scene for tonight because it’s 3 am and I’m in emotional distress.

How can anyone watch the illusion scene and the deleted bits and actually believe Loki is a cold hearted psychopath? I have this fucked up headcanon that Loki almost attempted suicide after Frigga’s death and either stopped himself…or Thor showed up right on time. I can’t prove it but I know it’s true by gut instinct.

There’s something so weirdly profound about someone who seeks out death being unkillable. Character who thinks he represents death actually represents life. That’s something the Loki series actually did well. They definitely screwed up his character in places, but I can see the backbone of what they intended. I don’t know how to explain this, but I don’t ship Sylvie with TVA Loki, I ship her with Pre-Ragnarok Loki. Aka, I characterize TVA Loki as closer to OG Loki than he is thus far.

There’s a tiny detail about Loki that makes me go feral. You have to psychoanalyze a little, but Loki doubts his brother even cares about him, so whenever Thor says he feels betrayed and threatens him, Loki smiles. It means Thor cared. It means there’s hope. Negative attention is better than none at all. Disappointment is better than apathy. I wish I didn’t know how he feels.

[thelivealeran]

Malevolent, Part 1: The Dark World

Alright, pre-listening checklist:

Free Time? Check

Headphones? Tested and ready; Check

Snacks? Yes I Am Check

Lights? Appropriately low for horror; Check

Ready? Lets Go!

[atlapanoramas]

Season 1, Episode 7 "Winter Solstice, Part 1: The Spirit World" - part 4

[stunfiskz]

ah fuck the au i’ve made up as a joke has morphed into an au that i’m actually very attached to the idea of now but also feel kind of silly about

[acapellapotato]

millie wears her hair long so she can hide her ears, a dead giveaway of her elven ancestry.

[keycomicbooks]

Sentry #1 (2018) Bryan Hitch Cover & Aaron Kim Jacinto Pencils, Jeff Lemire Story, 1st Appearance of Sentry Family "Sentry World, Part 1" THE GOLDEN GUARDIAN IS BACK! FRESH FROM THE PAGES OF DOCTOR STRANGE... ...but is that really such a good thing?

[winxanity-ii]

SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...