#take in the sheer brilliance of this mans work

[linhdorr]

Happy birthday to our dear kobi guru...guru Deb.....Robi kobi....Rabindranath tagore .......

HAPPY RABINDRA JAYANTI yall.....especially to my bengali mutuals ......

[shomatoriashi]

09/20/24; 06:20pm

sung jinwoo x fem.reader

warnings: a self indulgent piece, mentions of depression and anxiety.

your tears had long since dried, yet the events leading up to today had been so taxing (so soul crushing) on you that you could feel the happiness you once had slip away from you.

failure after crushing failure kept mounting against you during your latest attempt at working in a new environment, and all of those tiny mistakes you made kept building up until you were labeled as incompetent by your supervisor. as you struggled with balancing your work ups and making the right recommendations to your superior’s, you found yourself falling short every time.

and just a mere three weeks later, your boss had a private discussion with you, remaining brutally honest about how they were quickly losing confidence in your abilities and how they believed you were not a perfect fit for their company.

so, you were immediately terminated from your position-

leaving you utterly devastated at how much you had let your failures and lack of confidence get to this point.

and what was worst?

you couldn’t bring yourself to face your beloved boyfriend of three years. despite living together in a modest apartment, you felt a strange sense of guilt filling you at the thought of potentially disappointing him.

perhaps your feelings of inadequacy were valid, since your beloved was none other than sung jinwoo himself, a man who had become so far above your league in just mere months. you remembered him as being such a lanky and tall boy, the weakest of them all-

yet even through the face of his own adversities, he was able to rise above those who looked down upon him, becoming now the strongest hunter in the world.

compared to the sheer brilliance of jinwoo, you felt like a speck of dirt in comparison. something that was so insignificant and tiny that you could be forgotten in mere seconds.

after your dismissal, you chose to return home to your parents, telling them to please keep you away from jinwoo for the time being until you were brave enough to face jinwoo once more.

the days turned into weeks, with your cellphone constantly flashing with calls and text messages from jinwoo. yet, you had no energy to return his calls or reply to his messages, choosing instead to allow his constant calls to go through until your cellphone’s battery ran out.

you kept yourself holed up in your old room, clinging to your worn comforter that held the lingering scent of your childhood. every so often, you mother or father would convince you to eat with them, and you managed to stomach a few bites before ultimately going back into your room.

the concept of time was lost on your end, making you lose all track of time. your eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling, and your heart had now become numb. since your dismissal, you lost all motivation, not finding the strength to face your lover as you simply assumed that he had given up on you, potentially taking the hint and had moved on from you.

just the thought of losing jinwoo makes tears well up in your eyes, a sharp, yet ice cold pain felt piercing at your heart as you dwelled in such self-deprecating thoughts. deep down, you knew that you couldn’t hide from jinwoo forever-

but you didn’t know where to start.

the pain had gotten to near unbearable levels now, causing you to openly sob while placing the palms of your hands against your eyes. your chest ached, alerting you to an incoming panic attack, yet you were unable to calm yourself down, feeling the anxiety make your head spin and your stomach churn-

yet such painful sensations seemed to disappear the moment you felt powerful arms and the lingering scent of someone’s cologne surrounding you. your eyes widen, making you gasp when you caught sight of jinwoo’s trench coat and dark dress pants.

“j-jinwoo?” his name comes from your parted lips in a broken sob, with the powerful hunter simply whispering your name in response. as your body trembles with the weight of your stress and memories of your failures, you began to actively bawl, clinging to jinwoo’s arms in a vice grip, treating him like an item of comfort as you found solace within his warmth.

he remains silent, allowing your tears to stain at the fabric of his clothes with no complaint. as your tears slowly simmered down, you basked in the way his longer fingertips thread through your hair, clinging to him while basking in the way his gives your damp cheeks lingering kisses. once your tears finally dried, leaving behind swollen eyelids and chapped lips, jinwoo was filled with love and empathy for you.

with another hum of your name, he places your head within his chest, still threading his fingers through your hair as you continued to cling to him. you moisten your lips and ask, “h-how did you find me?”

you felt something soft against your hair before jinwoo answered, “shadow exchange. i knew you would be back here, within the comfort of your childhood home. your parents told me what happened, and i wanted to give you some space, to help you heal.”

you sniffle, feeling a fresh wave of tears threatening to overwhelm you once more. “jinwoo… i-i feel so bad. i-i kept messing up and c-constantly had to remind myself about… a-about everything that i missed but still fell short! i-i am such a failure, and it hurts-“

jinwoo cuts you off just then, pulling your face out of his chest to give you a quick kiss. it tasted salty, yet sweet, and despite how you were still crying, there was an odd comfort felt in the way he kissed you. once you were calm again, he pulls away from the kiss to frame at your face.

“i know those deep feelings of failure that you’re feeling more than anyone else… yet i still love you all the same. you being let go from that job may have been a blessing in disguise, and it’s okay if you had a hard time improving while being in an environment that you’re just not used to.”

you felt a deep comfort and warmth filling you upon hearing his words, making a choked laugh come from you. “y-you’re not disappointed in me?”

jinwoo then proceeds to vehemently shake his head, “no, jagiya, i could never be disappointed in you. how can i feel anything but pure and unconditional love for you when you’ve been nothing but the perfect woman in my eyes?”

you found yourself laughing once more, “even when there’s bags beneath my eyes and my hair is a mess?”

jinwoo chuckles before rolling his eyes at you, “are you kidding me? i’ve been missing you this entire time, and you’re still as beautiful to me as the first day i had met you.”

your heart felt considerably lighter now, making you break into a smile after what felt like an eternity spent in total darkness. meeting his gaze, you tell him, “i’m so sorry for being too afraid to be honest with you… and… i love you. thank you, for coming to me when i needed you the most.”

your beloved hunter ends up chuckling, all while shaking his head, “there’s no need to thank me, sarang. i’ll do anything for you.”

letting out a relieved sigh, you place yourself back into jinwoo’s comforting embrace. placing one final kiss against his chest, you press yourself even closer to him, allowing the steady beating of his two hearts lull you into a peaceful slumber.

end notes: today has been a soul crushing day for me, since i failed at something i really didn’t wish to fail at. this was written as a way to get some things off my chest.

also, i wanted to thank everyone for following me ♡ i just reached 500 today… i’ll write something more fluffy and happy once i’m in a better mental state ♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[plzfeedmebread]

Hold My Hand and Never Let Go

word count: 3360

Pairing: Jake Sully x Female! Omatikaya! Reader Tags/Warnings: adults only, smut, sex, mating, bonding Summary: Older sister of Neytiri, younger to Sylwanin. After Jake successfully becomes one of the people, you take him to visit the Tree of Voices. All the while battling your feelings for him.

Author's note: The scene in Chainsaw Man where Makima and Denji lewdly hold hands inspired me to write this. Was originally gonna be reader and Lo'ak but I wanted to make it lewd, so Jake it is! This is not proof read so apologies for any mistakes! I'll fix em up later~

When Neytiri first brought Jake Sully before the clan, like everyone else you were shocked beyond belief. You offered to cut him down where he stood, had she forgotten the sins of Demons and the Sky People? What they did to Sylwanin?

But by Eywa’s Will he is granted sanctuary amongst the clan. And much to your dismay, your mother, the Tsahik, puts you in charge of training this would be warrior.

Many moon cycles you spend together. It became excruciatingly clear how difficult the path ahead would be. But you persevered, powered by sheer determination and spite; Tsu’tey’s constant dismissal and antagonizing being the driving force.

Though he was future Olo'eyktan, and you future Tsahik, the two of you were not to be a mated pair. It was an unusual situation, but not entirely unheard of. Your parents knew all too well how much the two of you butted heads, always getting on each other’s nerves one way or another.

A compromise then; he would be mated to your younger sister Neytiri. She accepted, noting that he was a great warrior and a promising future leader; Sylwanin always spoke so highly of him.

You put him to the back of your mind, your only focus being Jake and his lessons. Slow at first, especially with the language, he eventually finds his rhythm.

And when he passed his Iknimaya, you were overjoyed beyond words. It filled you with such pride watching him fly his ikran as though he was a natural born Na’vi. Eywa must have truly blessed this man. The two of you giggled like fools as you flew side by side, teasing each other with fake collisions.

Neytiri laughed at your antics, while Tsu’tey merely rolled his eyes, deeming you two a bunch of children.

You couldn’t stop smiling as you painted him in white intricate swirls. And when father declared him one of the people, you smiled brighter than you thought possible. Watching everyone gather around to join hands upon hands, excepting him, you weren’t ashamed of the tears in your eyes. Your gaze briefly met Graces’, the two of you letting out soft laughs noticing each other’s tears.

The day was filled with merriment and celebration. Every artisan of the clan wanted his attention now, showing him their workings, honed by years of trade. Then day bled to evening, filled with feast, song and drink. And when evening bled into night, you stealthily pulled Jake away from the clan, wanting some alone time.

---

Hurriedly you pull him along, your footsteps leaving light trails in the earth. This was your most favourite time, the night, when Eywa was at her most beautiful. Even when the sun eclipsed, She never left her people in the dark; lighting the world in a brilliance of colour.

You giggle when you feel Jake playfully tug on your tail as you arrive at your destination; the Tree of Voices. The grove is awash in soft violet and pink hues, almost romantic in a way.

“This is a place for prayers to be heard, and sometimes answered.” You explain as you grab some of the tree. You connect your kuru and smile softly.

“We call these trees, Utral Aymokriyä, The Tree of Voices. The voices of our ancestors.” You watch as Jake connects to the tree, his pupils dilating for a brief moment.

“I can hear them…” He looks shocked, almost like a babe connecting to Eywa for the first time. You suppose that perhaps that was true in his case.

“When our energy is returned, we live on within Eywa.” He nods and disconnects himself. You touch your hands to his broad chest.

“You are Omatikaya now. You may make your bow from the wood of Hometree…” You hesitate for but a moment, turning from him you hold your hand out to an atokirina.

“…And you may choose a woman. Or man.” You smirk over your shoulder at him. You giggled at the disgruntled face he makes.

“Woman. Definitely woman…You’re unmated too, right? Can I ask, how come you never chose anyone? You must’ve completed your iknimaya long before I came around…”

He is of course right. There is a pang in your chest as you think on it. Once upon a time you would have been mated to Tsu’tey; but your clashing personalities made such a pairing disastrous. So by your own hand, you sabotaged your own future.

You could have chosen another man, but the fallout with Tsu’tey left you with such a strong impression, you couldn’t bare the thought of Eywa rejecting another union; least of all if it were to be your fault.

You curse yourself then, for the feelings burning inside you. As you stare into Jake’s golden eyes, you know with utter certainty, that you desire him. Your heart yearns for him, aches for his touch. He makes you feel comfortable, safe. Like you can express yourself in ways you wouldn’t to others, and he wouldn’t judge you for it.

You explain to him then, the falling out you had with Tsu’tey, and how it made you feel thereafter. Your heart beats fast in your chest, anxiously you search his gaze for anything close to disgust, almost waiting for an upturned sneer.

But it never comes. He simply smiles down at you, something akin to adoration in those eyes. It fills you with renewed confidence.

“And now…I think I am ready to choose a mate once again…But, he must also choose me.” You grab a hold of his hand, holding it to your face as you stare up at him once more. You watch as realisation slowly takes over, his eyes widening in shock.

“Me?”

You nod, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“Yes you…” You whisper into his palm. When you open your eyes once more, you don’t expect to see his face drenched in conflict.

“Jake…?”

“[Y/N]…Of course I choose you, but…”

Oh Eywa no, here comes the rejection. You curse yourself once more, you should have known better, should have kept quiet.

But he doesn’t say anything more. You notice he is looking at his own hands, once pinching the palm of the other. He’s grimacing, lost in his own thoughts.

“The people accepted me, and I’m grateful, really I mean that, I couldn’t be happier…But a part of me still feels, because of my demon blood, can I really be true Na’vi? And, what if something happens to this body? Or, or what if something happens to the link bed I’m lying in? Are you sure you wanna risk being with someone who could drop dead at any second?”

You heart breaks. You had no idea he had been harbouring such thoughts, such insecurities. You grab his face in both your hands, pulling him to meet your eyes once more.

“You are more Na’vi than you give yourself credit for. Eywa saved you in that forest from my sister, and it is by Her Will, that you stand before me. Do not ever doubt yourself like this, you hear me? The man I see before me is not his past, but the future he needs only to reach out and grab with both hands.”

Jake’s lips quiver slightly, but he swallows his would be tears and instead smiles down at you. It feels like the sun kissing your skin. He hands move to grab your face in turn. He says nothing, but slowly leans forward. You tilt your head as you lean closer to him. He stops just shy of touching you, as if to give you one last chance to back away.

Not a fucking chance.

You close the gap without a moment of hesitation.

When your lips meet, you can’t help but inhale sharply. The feeling of his soft lips on yours, it is as though something burst inside you; flooding you with a calming warmth. It seeps into your very bones, bringing an unexpected relief, and a sense of Home.

Tentatively, he moves his mouth against yours. Each move slow and meaningful. His thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. You press yourself harder, deepening the kiss. He moans into your mouth when you do, and he feels you smirk against him.

Cheeky.

He licks your bottom lip, and when you squeak in surprise, he wastes no time invading you with his long thick wet tongue. Your legs feel weak as he explores every part of your mouth, from the tips of your fangs, to the slick of your own tongue. The two of you tangle in each other, tasting, lapping up each other, until the need to breath becomes too much.

Slowly you pull away, laboured breath mixing with one another. He rests his forehead against you, his eyes search yours, though you know not for what. You kiss him lightly on the nose, giving him the reassurance he so desperately seeks.

You take a step back, grabbing his hand in yours as you lower yourself to the ground. When the two of you are knelt before one another, you hold his hand up to yours.

“When Na’vi mate…It is a life long bond. We connect our kuru, our queues together. Through it, you will feel what I feel, and I you…Na’vi are taught from a very young age, how sacred this bond is. It is the most spiritual way you will connect with someone, other than Eywa herself. So it cannot happen, until you find your one true mate…It is also, very, very erotic…Or so I’m told,” you can’t help the blush that adorns your face.

You notice though, that Jake doesn’t seem to be shy at all. He looks at you with such reverence. But there is also something behind his gaze, you dare say, almost predatory. As you he would devour you given the chance. The thought alone excites you, a spark igniting a warmth deep within your loins.

“So you tellin’ me young Na’vi teenagers don’t fool around?” You let out a short laugh at his question.

“Some do. But not always. The urges of the body can take over, but tsaheylu will always be sacred. And for some, they would rather share their first time with their mate.” He nods at your explanation.

“So have you ever…?” You shake your head in response.

“Have…you?”

“…In my Sky People body, yeah…” You nod in understanding; the revelation doesn’t surprise you. His people had different cultures from yours, and you mostly chose to remain untouched due to your own fear of rejection.

“Are you nervous?” He asks and you nod.

“But…It’s something I’ve thought about for a very long time…” Your fingers graze his palm, before you slide your fingers between his and gently hold his hand.

“I believe, mating, having sex, the better you understand the other person, the better it feels…I often wondered what my mate would look like…How long, would his fingers be?” Up and down your lithe fingers stroke the space between his own.

“Would his palm be warm, or cold?” You gently grasp his hand, bringing it to cup your face.

“How would it feel, to have him caress my ears?” You press his fingers around the tip of your ear. You bring his other hand to your mouth, gently taking his thumb between your teeth.

“How would it feel, to have him in my mouth? Taste him on my tongue?” Slowly, you let your tongue glide over his digit, sucking him into your mouth. Jake audibly gasps as you, you hear his tail swish behind him excitedly.

You remove his thumb slowly, pressing a kiss to the tip before you move his hand back down. He gulps audibly.

“You, sure you haven’t done this before?” His voice is anxious, and you revel in that fact.

“I am sure…Now, come. Let us mate before Eywa, ma Jake.” You move your queue to the space between you to, and he mirrors your actions.

You watch with baited breath as the pink tendrils seek each other, slowly entwining in brilliant white.

The feeling that floods you is near indescribable; a euphoria done little to know justice from words alone. It is as though you have lived your life as but a portion of a whole being, suddenly made whole through the bond. You feel his heart beating fast in his own chest, but also reverence he holds for you; as though you were the one to paint the stars in the sky, or hold moonlight in your hands.

He pulls you to him, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He bites and licks at the sensitive flesh, eliciting soft moans from you. The unexpected pleasure he feels through the bond pulls a low moan from the back of his throat.

His hands are on you, exploring you, every inch of skin set alight as his fingers glide over you. His mouth trails kisses down to your chest. He gives your nipple a teasing lick, before taking the bud into his mouth. He sucks and licks until it perks, then moves to do the same to the other. Your fingers thread through his hair as he does, short gasps leaving you as he does.

The pleasure travels down into your loins, the warmth slicking your walls.

Once he’s satisfied, he sits up to press his mouth to yours in a bruising kiss. He is far less gentle this time, mouth dominating your own for control, tongue lapping and invading your mouth without warning.

His hand travels down to your sex, gently cupping you through your loin cloth. You moan shamelessly into his mouth as you feel him gently stroke you.

The pleasure is soft and gentle, with a promise of something grand in the distance. But this friction is not enough. You whine when he grazes your clothed clit, and it’s all the indication he needs. He tugs at the hem and you hurriedly undo the seams.

His hand his on you again, fingers gently prying into your aching core. When he feels the wetness of you, he moans and breaks the kiss.

“This all for me baby? You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you,” he nips at your lip. You gasp as he coats himself in your juices, then gently start stroking your clit.

“J-Jake…” His name feels like a prayer from your lips.

Slowly he moves into you, pressing one finger into your throbbing pussy. He moves his thumb to rub your clit, all the while he pumps that singular long digit in and out of you.

Your cunt sings with a pleasure you never thought possible, your walls becoming wetter with each deft stroke. The pleasure spreads to every inch of you, ecstasy dancing on every nerve. The pleasure only grows when he inserts a second finger. The coil inside you tightening, the promise of orgasm growing ever closer.

Your hands wrap around his shoulders, pulling him as close to you as possible. You can’t help but grind yourself against his hand, your body demanding more friction.

“Yes, yes, yes ma Jake!” Your voice sings his praises and he quickens his pace.

“That’s is baby, you’re so close I can feel it. Cum on your mate’s fingers,” He moves his mouth to your ear and bites down gently. With one final pump of his fingers you cry out loud as your orgasm hits you. Your walls clentch tightly to his fingers, all the while his thumb gently strokes you as you ride out your pleasure.

When the sensation becomes overwhelming, you whine and tap in on the shoulder. Thankfully he relents, and slowly removes himself from your core.

But the night’s not over yet, and you feel as though that was but a taste of the whole meal.

You can feel his hardened cock aching through the bond.

Instinctively you lay on your back, pulling him with you. You spread your legs as wide as you can, and he nestles between. He removes himself from the constraints of his clothes.

Slowly he rubs his member up and down your slit, lubricating himself as he pumps his hand up and down.

His eyes find yours. Your hand rests beside your face, and he threads his fingers with yours. He squeezes and you squeeze back, nodding your head.

Slowly he starts pushing himself inside you. The feeling is strange and unfamiliar, perhaps even a little uncomfortable. He takes his time though, and you feel the strain of his willpower to move at such a pace. Once he is buried to the hilt, he lets out a shaky breath, resting his head beside you. His laboured breath tickles your ear.

He’s waiting for you to get used to the feeling, giving your body a moment to adjust to the stretch. The uncomfortable feeling from before doesn’t take long to subside, and is instead replaced with a soft pleasant feeling.

You kiss his check, and gently grind yourself against him, encouraging him to move. He groans into your ear, the deep guttural sound of his voice tickling your stomach.

He slowly removes himself, just before the tip, before slamming right back into you. The pleasure that hits you is so sudden you can’t help the loud moan it rips from your throat. He doesn’t wait this time.

With reckless abandon he’s pounding into you, his cock moulding itself into your throbbing walls of your needy pussy. Each thrust makes the most lewd squelch of wetness and flesh you have ever heard. It arouses you even more.

Faster he fucks you, the coil of pleasure tightening once again, threatening to snap at a moments notice. His moans are low and breathless, curse words sprinkled in between as he rides his pleasure within your centre.

Your legs wrap around his waist, allowing his dick to hit a place even deeper than before. Your eyes shut tight as the pleasure nearly overwhelms you. You feel his other hand cup your face, the other still holding your hand tight.

“Open your eyes, [Y/N], please. I wanna see you when you cum.”

With some effort, you open your eyes to lock your gaze with his. The feeling in your heart explodes a million times over as you feel his love for you through the bond, and the joining of your sex. It brings tears to your eyes.

“I love you Jake—my mate—my Jake—forever! I’m so close! Please! Don’t stop!”

He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I love you too [Y/N]…Cum for me again baby, let me feel you one more time.”

The cord snaps and your orgasm hits you hard. The moan from your lips burgeoning on a scream. Your cunt squeezes his cock for all it’s worth. The pleasure burns pleasantly from your clit to the tip of your kuru.

Jake continues his brutal pace while you ride out your orgasm. The sensations that flood him through the bond are enough to bring him to his own release.

“[Y/N]!” With your name on his lips, it only takes a few more thrusts before his burying himself as deep as he can, your pelvis bone aching, as he paints your walls with his seed.

He gives you a few more hard thrusts as he rides out his orgasm.

Finally he collapses on top of you, both of you well spent.

He rolls himself onto his back, pulling you with him. He doesn’t remove himself from you, nor does the bond release.

You lay on top of him then, head reasting on his chest. You listen to the rapid beating of his heart; it fills you again with the feeling of home.

Your hand idly traces the glowing stars on his chest. You are both warm and sweaty. Sticky from your exertions. The air is thick with the scent of mating. But neither of you mind.

One arm wraps around you, securing you to him. He brings his other hand to yours, entwining your fingers in a tight embrace.

“I love you, [Y/N]…”

“I love you too, ma Jake. Hold my hand, and never let go.”

You squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back.

[loki-cees-all]

Ch. 4 - Hope Against Hope {Against All Odds - TVA!Loki x Female Reader Longfic}

Previous Chapter / AO3 Link / Against All Odds Masterlist / Next Chapter

Pairing : TVA!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : After you and Loki do the deed, Loki does a little soul-searching.

W/c : 4.7k words

Content / Warnings : Smut (p-in-v), angst (knife-in-heart), mentions of a future addiction for the reader (nothing specific is mentioned, and no actual use of illicit substances ever takes place), and Loki rifling through all of your stuff. It's fine, though! He has a good reason!

Author's Note : Apologies this is so late! It really, really got away from me, and I was absolutely struggling to get it done. But, it turns out I was just trying to do too much in one chapter, so once I cut it off at what was the halfway point, it became much more manageable. (Major shoutout to @infinitystoner for helping me with that. I love you!) Anyway, happy reading!

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 26th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

Throughout his thousand years of existence, Loki had witnessed a great deal of beautiful things. The golden shine of the palace he’d grown up in was the first; its light reflected brighter than the birth of a newborn star, shining down with a brilliance unrivaled to anything short of divine intervention. 

Every morning, he’d awake in awe of its splendor, and every night, when he laid his head upon his pillow, he’d wonder if anyone else ever noticed the terrible irony of such a gorgeous place containing the harshest of people. 

The exquisite gardens of Asgard had always been his favorite place to be. Carefully tended to and guided by his mother’s loving hand, they contained every species of flower from each of the Nine Realms - meticulously organized by the shade of their petals, and perpetually in bloom thanks to her seidr. 

It was the perfect place for reflection; he had spent many late nights in those gardens, wandering up and down the rows, taking in the sweet aroma of the flowers and pondering his lot in life. And during the worst of Thanos’ many tortures, he’d often imagine he was back there inside Frigga’s gardens - shielded and protected, and lost in majesty instead of in pain. 

And the stunning destruction of the Bifrost would haunt him for the rest of his days. The explosion’s light caught the shards of the Rainbow Bridge and almost blinded him, illuminating nothing but his many failures in the most glorious of ways as he fell into its wake. The Bifrost had faded into golden dust, and clouds of sapphire and ultramarine had swirled together beneath him, and it was so magnificent that he almost forgot about the look of sheer disappointment upon his father’s face. 

But none of those things, not a single one of them, could ever compare to the sight of you coming undone beneath his devoted tongue. 

Loki continued working, his mouth and eyes eagerly taking in the evidence of your pleasure. His hands gripped your waist tight, as if to squeeze out every ounce of it that he could, while his lips and tongue lavished your clit. He’d never tasted something so divine, and he never wanted your pleasure to end. 

You cried out his name like the holiest of prayers, and Loki moaned its accompaniment. He could almost see the light radiating off your skin as your back arched off the bed, and the blood in his veins surged with want as your thighs trembled against his ears. He desperately needed more, to keep you sated and satisfied in euphoria for as long as he could - but he also needed to be careful. 

Because as far as you knew, Loki was just another simple mortal - one that had a job, and a family, and paid taxes. A human man, one that played rugby on the weekends, someone who was going to die in about forty years - when he was actually the furthest from anything that even resembledbanality. 

Ordinarily, in situations like this, Loki’s seidr would be on full display - to set the mood by lighting the fire in the hearth and the candles on the nightstand. To keep the wine flowing in their glasses, and the sheets warm against your bare skin. To remove his clothing in a flash of green light, just so he could bury himself inside you the exact second he wanted to. 

And Gods, how he helplessly wanted to be inside you again. 

Loki hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since the night in the alleyway. It had been feral and hurried, dangerous and reckless, to take you against that wall and in public, but he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t the best he’d ever had. And it was so foolish of himself to think he could get by with only having you once, and so incredibly selfish to take you again while knowing what he knew about your future…

But even still, Loki’s cock ached underneath his trousers, throbbing in sync with every single beat of his heart. Desire coursed violently throughout his veins, mixing with both heat and adrenaline as he continued ravishing between your legs. He could feel you clenching rhythmically, your fingers tangling in his hair and your hips grinding upwards, and he could never deny you what you wanted. 

You were just past the height of ecstasy when Loki began to crawl up your body, following behind his lips as they worshiped your skin. He kissed his way up your belly, gazing up at your ethereal expression as your head lolled back and forth on the pillow. Aftershocks washed over you, one by one, and your lips parted with desperate breath and pleasured murmurs. It was beautiful, and perfect, and of nothing but sheer divinity. 

Loki kept his gaze locked on your face as he slowly kissed along your ribs, and your feet flexed, pressing into his hips as yours continued writhing. Your fingers curled tighter around his hair, a silent plea to urge him on, and he couldn’t believe that even after all of this, even while completely lost in the throes of ecstasy, you still wanted more of him. 

His initial plan had been to take you as slowly as possible - to savor, and to idolize you. He’d never been wanted like this before, and he didn’t know if this would be the last time he’d get to experience it. A lifetime of neglect had taught him affection was ever fleeting, and he should always relish it whenever it came. What little patience he had was quickly disappearing by the second, soon to be nothing but a distant memory of the time before he was whole again. 

Your eyes stayed closed as his name tumbled from your lips, and Loki knew this was the moment. He kept one hand clutched tight around your hip, and brought the other down to his belt, unbuckling it just enough to make a sound before his seidr dissolved the remaining clothing from his body and transported them to the floor, as if they’d been tossed aside in a hurry. 

He moved upwards again, and when he reached your nipple and pulled it into his mouth, you whimpered in pleasure and dragged your nails across his scalp. A deep groan rumbled in his throat and he began to suck harder, flicking his tongue wildly against the stiffening peak. This time you let out a sharp gasp, and your feet planted on the mattress to arch your back even more and press your hips against something, anything, of his. 

Loki graciously slid his thigh up to soothe the ache between your quivering legs, and you eagerly locked on to it, grinding your swollen clit against his taut muscles. You had been more than wet when he had gone down on you before, but now you were positively drenched with arousal, and Loki loved that about you. He’d never been so hard in his life, precum dripping onto your belly from the head of his glistening cock as the musk of sex filled the room. 

Your head tilted back into the pillow and your thighs trembled violently, supported only by your tiptoes and your upper back as another orgasm ripped through you. Loki cupped your other breast, his thumb circling its nipple as he sucked even harder on the first, trying desperately to hold back his own ecstasy until he was buried deep inside you. 

But that battle was becoming more and more difficult to win, and his equanimity was dissipating with each and every one of your breathless moans and whimpers. Loki moved his hands to carefully guide your feet flat, and then massaged your calves and thighs into relaxing as he carefully pulled his lips away from your nipple. 

As he moved closer, your hands shifted to cling to his neck, his shoulders, his arms. Anything you could read, everything about him that was solid and real. He wanted so badly to assure you that he was, to shout it from the rooftops that he wasn’t just real, that he was - in fact - yours, and that was the only real thing that mattered. 

Loki’s lips were on your collarbone when he finally coaxed your legs into position, relaxed but open for him. You were making unintelligible noises and your body continued trembling, but your hips kept rolling as he slowly settled his weight onto you and pressed his hips against yours. 

“Loki…oh my, God, Loki…” you gasped breathlessly, sliding your hands up along his neck to his hair, to tangle in the mess of matted and sweaty curls against his scalp. 

His breath shuddered as he gazed upon you, eyelids fluttering open and shut, and pupils dilated so wide to take him all in. His lips hovered just a touch above yours, inhaling as you exhaled, leaning in as you pulled him closer. He wasn’t running or cowering away, there was no fleeing or escaping. For the first time since the Tesseract had slid to his feet in the lobby of Stark Tower, Loki was exactly where he wanted to be. 

“Yes, my darling…I’m here, just breathe…” he whispered, dragging his nose along the edge of yours. His voice shifted into a groan as you wrapped your legs around his waist; the soft skin of your thighs burned against him, branding a reminder into his flesh that this was where he belonged, and the soaked heat between your legs beckoned him back home. 

The two of you were as naked as the day you were born - one born on Earth, and one born on Jotunheim. Dark green and satin sheets lay beneath you, twisted and tangled upon your bed. The air inside your room was almost overwhelming, a delicious mixture of heat and musk, and despite the very early morning hour, the city of London still bustled just outside your window, cruelly unaware of the magic that was about to happen above them. 

Your lips met again, and even though the kiss was just as hungry as that night in the alleyway, there was something else now with it - a touch of familiarity, of knowing and acceptance even though it couldn’t really be - not with all the lies he’d been telling, and the truth he’d been withholding. Loki kissed you harder, trying to push those thoughts out of his brain, and you happily reciprocated. 

As you introduced your tongue to the kiss, Loki cupped the back of your skull with one hand, and brought the other between your hips as he began to rock against you, dragging himself against your entrance and teasing you both into oblivion. Neither of you needed any further teasing, but he did it anyway, just to add the final touch of urgency. You whimpered and opened your hips even further, and on the next push, he was inside you again. 

Suddenly, everything made perfect sense as the entire universe opened up before him. Loki let out the hoarsest of groans as he pushed deeper, and your lower back arched even more beneath him. Your fingers curled even tighter around his hair, your lips fell from his to moan his name again, and you were so wet and warm and safe that he felt like nothing could ever hurt him again. 

All he ever wanted was to feel like this, and he slowly pulled himself out, just short of all the way, before sinking himself back inside. Your hips writhed uncontrollably as he did that a few more times, and Loki realized that you also needed the reminder that even if he pulled away or left completely, he would always come back to you. That he would never not be thinking of you, or of this. 

Loki was already ruined before he began thrusting even faster, and there was absolutely nothing that could have ever stopped him. He buried his face against your neck and arched his back more harshly, pulling all the way out before pumping back inside. Your muscles squeezed around him, and your voice was nothing but breathless and incoherent gasps and moans as you took him in over and over again. 

He snaked one arm around your back and the other around your waist as he moved faster, grunting and groaning against your skin as your fingertips scratched at his scalp. His muscles tensed as yours did, and he could tell by the sound of your voice that you were getting close already. His own orgasm was just seconds away, coiling around in his belly, stretching and yearning to break free as he drove himself harder, faster, deeper. 

The tension broke simultaneously, and you cried out together, curling tightly around each other’s bodies, clinging for dear life as you came together. Endorphins and hormones coursed through Loki’s veins as the universe came into being, with stars exploding and dust swirling to form the galaxies and planets and realms that could stretch longer and further than anyone would ever know. 

You clung so tightly to him during it all, as if you could see what he saw, but somehow he was the only thing that mattered. How could that be, that while an entire universe was being born, that the goddess of a mortal underneath could only look up at him? 

Loki didn’t understand it one bit, but he didn’t need to, because all he could feel and see and smell was you. His hips continued rocking, shallower now that he was absolutely spent, and his sighs were heavy in the crook of your neck. He was in total and complete bliss when you let out a choked sob against his ear, and it instantly brought him back to reality. 

“Darling…darling, what’s wrong?” he murmured, kissing your neck and squeezing you tighter. Had he done something wrong? Had he unintentionally hurt you in some way while lost in his own pleasure? 

He could feel you shake your head, even as another sob escaped you. He could feel the tears streaming down your face and coating his own cheek, but your limbs still wrapped harder around him. Slowly, Loki lifted his head even though he was terrified of what he might see upon your face. His heavy eyelids fluttered open, his blurred vision effortlessly obscuring the tangled limbs and sweaty skin you both shared. 

But when your face finally came into view, there was a smile beneath the tears on your cheeks. Your messy hair framed your face like an untidy halo - disconnected from, but still beautiful and fitting for the angel who wore it. Loki would never forget that smile and its tears, so happy and yet so sad all at the same time. 

“I don’t know why, Loki…but I’ll be fine, I promise…” you answered in a voice that was so floating and breathless and light.

He could tell you meant it, and it should have reassured him, but it didn’t. The image of that newspaper from 1983 suddenly flashed before his eyes, and Loki remembered the initial reason he had come home with you last night. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Date : June 27th, 1977 [Sacred Timeline]

Loki wasn’t exactly sure what he was searching for, but that wasn’t going to stop him from trying. 

The sun was just beginning to encroach over the horizon, sending its rays over the city and into the bay windows of your high-rise flat. He padded cautiously into your living room, thankful for the plush white carpets between his toes to mute his exhausted steps. 

There was nothing he wanted more than to slip back into bed with you and sleep the day away, but he had to take this opportunity while he still had the chance. 

Loki could still see you, sleeping soundly in the arms of the duplicate he’d casted so as to not rouse any suspicion while he snooped. It felt so wrong to be doing this now, so soon after the night you’d just shared together, but the guilt of your future was driving him forward, egging him on and eating him away so badly he wouldn’t be able to have another decent rest even if he tried. 

And it was odd, feeling jealous of something he’d conjured to keep you distracted, and in bed. It was, technically-speaking, him…but it wasn’t him- and he was the one who desperately needed the rest. Loki hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since well before Thanos’ capture, since he had lived in the palace on Asgard, and he had no idea when he’d be able to have it again…

Nevertheless, Loki shook his head and rolled it back and forth between his shoulders. His joints popped and cracked as he stretched his arms up over head, extending and pulling and desperately willing his limbs to fully awaken for the task at hand. He opened his eyes wider to take in more light, and he filled his lungs with as much oxygen as he could muster, held it for as long as he could, and released it slowly through his nose. 

If anyone else could see him, they’d say he was stalling. Deception ordinarily came easy to him - Odin had taken advantage of that many times - but this was different; in fact, this was much, much worse. And he knew he wasn’t going to like what he found, but it needed to be seen anyway. He had to know if he was the cause of your future addiction, or if had already started before you’d even met. 

Loki began his search in the kitchen, opening up the cupboards and pantries, quietly sliding items aside so he could see any possible illicit substances hidden in the back. He checked on top of the refrigerator and deep inside the freezer for excessive quantities of alcohol. He even looked through the drawers of silverware and utensils, the mail on top of the counter, the pockets of your coats hung by the front door for something, anything, that hinted at your painful future. 

But he found nothing, just like he was afraid of. And it wasn’t because he wanted you to have an addiction, to be suffering silently and hiding your pain away from the world - he didn’t want that to happen to you at all, ever. But the more he searched, the more it became apparent that he would be the eventual cause of it. 

And if he did manage to find something, he could offer you the help you needed. He could take care of you, instead of hurting you. He could be of use for something good, instead of the destruction he normally was. 

From the kitchen, he returned to the living room, shoving his hands between the couch cushions and underneath the sofas. He flipped through the magazines stacked on the coffee table, and pulled the books off the bookshelves. All the while, trying so hard not to think about how he was going to eventually make addiction a reality for you. 

Loki could tell you were eager to learn more about him, to know him more than just as a man who kept you company at night, and it was getting harder to dodge your questions. He knew you would have more when you awoke, and it wasn’t that you didn’t deserve to hear the answers, because of course you did. You deserved everything happy and safe and beautiful there could ever be, and Loki truly wanted to be the one to give all of that to you. 

But Loki didn’t know what to tell you, because that had never been the truth of his reality. So what was he supposed to tell you? That he was the monster that parents told their children about at night? 

That he’s an alien being from another realm, who could travel through time and space? That there were different versions of every single person living within multiple universes, and that in 35 years his past self would try to lead an alien army to violently take over New York City? 

At best, you wouldn’t believe him at all, and at worse, you’d absolutely hate him for it…even if doing that is exactly what brought him to you in the first place. 

After the last book was slid back into place, Loki sighed and turned his attention to the living room as a whole. Everything was clean and organized, everything had a specific place to be and was already there, and absolutely nothing was amiss. Nothing and everything was wrong, all at the same time, and the realization almost brought him to his knees. 

Loki was going to ruin your life eventually; the only question now was how he was going to do it, and when he was going to hammer that final nail inside your coffin. Was it going to be as soon as you woke up? Was it going to be because he finally told you the truth? 

His fingers pressed into his eye sockets as he collapsed onto the sofa, rubbing away furiously as he pondered his options. Truthfully speaking, how much time did you two have left together? The Loom was still on the verge of total destruction back at the TVA; his friends were back there right now, working tirelessly on a solution while he selfishly snuck away to see you again. To coddle his own emotions and guilt, when none of that would matter if they were unable to save the timelines at all. 

And what was he supposed to do if they managed to prevent the Loom’s destruction? Keep sneaking away to come see you like a long-distance lover? Make up a pretend job for himself, never tell you the truth, and force you to perpetually linger in the liminal space between his crafted persona and who he actually was? 

Not even he could keep a lie that massive forever. You would eventually discover the truth, or perhaps you would realize that there even was a truth different from the one he was selling you. Maybe what the truth was actually didn’t matter; maybe what mattered was that you couldn’t keep living a lie, and that was all it took to break you. 

Loki leaned forward on the sofa, his elbows digging into his knees while dragging his fingertips down his cheeks and over his mouth. His palms pressed together in a silent prayer as his eyes roamed over the room. His eyes filled with tears as he realized this would have to be the last time he ever looked upon it. He would have to leave you, before either of you fell too hard - and maybe, just maybe, that would be enough to save you more than it would destroy him. 

His expression was solemn as he stood back up from the sofa. He hoped he’d been overthinking your expression in the alleyway a week ago, in the club the night before, in your bed as you’d come together. His heart broke as he prayed that you didn’t actually care about him as much as he already cared about you, that this would actually be easy for you. That you still had the strength to pick up the pieces and carry on with your life. 

As Loki turned to leave the living room, to start the long journey back to your bedroom and kiss you goodbye, his eyes caught the painting above your dining room table. His frown shifted into a smile, although his eyes were as distraught and disillusioned as ever. He stepped closer and pressed his fingertips across the frame, thinking about all the stories this single painting told. 

You were so unbelievably talented; every brush stroke had been as carefully placed as the belongings inside your flat. How he wished he could see this tree that you loved so much, and how he longed to feel the same kind of permanent comfort that it seemed to bring you even now. He’d never felt such everlasting solace in his entire life, and he’d even happily settle for being able to provide that kind of love for you some day. 

But it just wasn’t meant to be. And for now, all Loki could hope for was that your father or your friends could help you still move on. 

He reluctantly pulled away and returned down the hallway, training his eyes straight ahead to avoid the beautiful and happy photographs plastered all over the walls. He tried desperately not to look at the candelabrum on the narrow bookshelf. But of course, the morning light caught it, reflecting off the polished brass and right into his anguished gaze. 

Loki couldn’t help but pause in front of it, right outside the doorway to your bedroom. He could hear you breathing in your bed, slowly and peacefully, in the arms of his duplicate. You were so close, and yet so far, because he couldn’t tear himself away from the hall and its haunted reminder of his past life. 

He’d seen that candelabrum before, but he didn’t know how it had found its way here. Surely, it had to be a coincidence, right? That the asymmetrically curved pieces swung upright to form the horns of the golden headpiece he used to wear before the TVA had taken him away? 

Devil’s horns, the enemies of Asgard used to call them. The Dökkláfar of Alfheim had considered them omens of death, but it wasn’t in the same way they had feared Odin’s power, or his brother’s hammer. Those items could always be seen before striking down their enemies; their power was out in the open, demanding to be witnessed, and punishing for their disobedience to the throne. 

But by the time an enemy ever saw Loki’s horns, it was already too late. The damage was already done, secretly in the shadows and hidden upon layers and layers of deceptions and lies. His enemies were already dead by the time Loki finally revealed himself and his Devil’s horns, and their last few seconds were usually spent wondering which trick it was that struck the final blow. 

So what were they doing here, in this young woman’s flat? In London, in 1977, where he’d never been before and surely would never return to again? Surely there was no way you knew what they actually represented. No, it had to just be an unhappy coincidence. 

Back on Asgard, Loki had been repeatedly regulated to operating within the shadows. In his younger years, he had believed it was simply because that was where he excelled. But then he knew better; he knew that Odin had kept him in the shadows intentionally, that he was fit to exist in the light. And now, he was being forced to recede into the shadows yet again, to be nothing but a hopefully wistful and fond memory of yours. 

He had only just found you. He had only just come to know the caring touch of peace, and already he was having to give it back up. 

Another tear rolled down Loki’s cheek, and he quickly wiped it away. He let out a sharp breath, steeled his jaw, and stepped back inside your bedroom, not at all ready to do the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. 

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ──  ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅  ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

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[tinylongwing]

For the top 5/top 10 meme: top character arcs!

Oh jeez! Okay this is awesome, let me dig deep into my brain. Also there's no way I remember every character arc I've ever witnessed so this is just gonna be the first good ones that come to mind, haha.

For my Lord Huron folks, I'm going with Lee Green as one answer. Girl!! You champion! Takes off on her own to try and make a career work for herself in the big city of Los Angeles after bailing on 1960s Detroit and her loser boyfriend. Winds up hooked on vide noir while in the clutches of Z'Oiseau who basically just collects pretty girls as temporary trophies because he's some fucking cosmic horror creep I guess, but somehow she gets out of that? Kicks her addiction, takes back her stage name and releases multiple albums and lives her dreams. Lee, how did you manage this when basically every other character winds up dead or suffering or missing. Good heavens.

And no okay I can't resist, I'm putting another LH-er in here because my boy Johnnie Redmayne is too ridiculous. Is this even a character arc? Yes. Kid lives a life of joyous violence and hedonism in a gang, risk-taking coupled with a need to support his friends and family monetarily leads to his kidnapping and murder, but then he's like fuck that, death sucks! I don't want to die, that's boring and also getting murdered via cosmic horror drug overdose is a real big nightmare which probably unlocked some really terrible secrets he'd rather not reflect on. Nope, better to just come back, now undead, out of sheer stubborn refusal to accept death! That's way cooler. Party on, haunting desert travelers forever. Child, you're doing great and I support you.

Okay, One Piece is also like ridiculously chock full of amazing characters with the world's most unnecessarily fleshed out and traumatizing backstories, and everyone who knows me knows that I'm very much here for Trafalgar Law. Yeah yeah, and Rosinante, but look, Law is the actual major character here who grows so much as he sees his whole world burning down around him as a child, goes from self-destructive and nihilistic to learning to trust and love people again to the point where he will always put himself in harm's way before even letting anyone touch a hair on his crew's heads. Such a wholesome goth. So much found family.

Having relatively recently watched Twin Peaks (FINALLY I know) I have to put Dale Cooper in here. This is not a positive character arc, this is a man whose joy and brilliance and successes against some really dark forces led him to thinking he was capable of anything in the pursuit of justice and truth. Turns out that was probably wrong! Whoops! And now he's possibly doomed? Look, the ending of Twin Peaks is massively open-ended but Cooper is very much a deeply tragic character and I'm kind of obsessed with tragedy and bad endings.

And I'm going to stop at five or I'll never get any work done, so fifth here will be.... hm. You know what, Seo-bi from Netflix's Kingdom. I can't get enough of characters in a scientific or medical sort of role in period dramas, I think that's very very good (and Goodsir from The Terror was a very near fifth choice here for some similar reasons). But I love Seo-bi in particular because she has knowledge, she uses it, she perseveres despite so many challenges including politics and also literal zombies, and the show continually throws a couple of characters at her that look like they're supposed to be love interests and she's always like NO! Fuck off! I'm doing important medical work here, I have no time for kissing!!! And that's very powerful of her and I love that for her so much. I'm sad that this series appears to be on hold maybe forever now.

[dearestones]

Early Morning Break In (L and Reader)

Warnings: Established platonic relationship between L and Reader, L breaks into Reader’s apartment, slight humor. 

Anonymous Request: 

To L:

“ is… that my shirt you’re wearing? ”  

Whatever you want to write, in any context, I’ll appreciate it a lot. Thanks!

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Sometimes, you thought you knew a lot about L. Despite his propensity for secrecy, a part of you believed that you had known him long enough for you to glimpse into the innermost workings of his mind, to catch sight of what lay beneath his seemingly unknowable facade and see the human living underneath. He was a man not beholden to the laws that governed humanity or the morals and ethics that ruled one's souls.

Was he a higher being? 

Surely not, but there were times when his brilliance and his sheer alien nature far outweighed what you thought you had known about him.

So, it was with much trepidation—and maybe a little curiosity—that you woke up in the morning, a few seconds after your alarm had gone off to see that the world's greatest detective was in your bedroom peering down at you. 

As was said before, you had known L for quite some time, even if he did take most of the credit for the cases that you worked on together. Most of the time, L opted to stay behind the computer screens and had coerced you into representing him when Watari could not, but there were other times, rare and unusual, when he would actually venture out into the field and pursue criminals and the like for himself. You may not always see him in person, but whenever you did, the memory of what he looked like burned itself to the sensitive flesh of your eyelids like a brand on livestock.

You would always remember the shaggy hair, the dark black eyes that belied only passive disinterest. Most of the time, he would wear an oversized shirt with long sleeves, the color of an off white shade that must have been pure alabaster at one point. His legs, long you thought, were encased in even baggier jeans that only barely hid his bare feet.

Not once had you seen him wear something outside of this particular getup.

You had asked a particular question once when you were younger and not as kind to L. Yes, you regarded him as your superior—who in their right mind wouldn't?—but you didn't think of him as anything more than that. Reputation wise, you would have thought him aloof and arrogant (which he was and more), but you also saw in him a strange charisma. You saw in him someone who was determined to solve any puzzles that piqued his curiosity just for the sake of knowing and being the one to know it in the first place. It was leagues short of noble, but his detective work had put many criminal organizations behind bars, so you couldn't bear too much judgment against him.

It was that strange charisma that reached out to you and made you  want to seek out what was common to all humans: a chance for connection.

You asked, "Do you always wear the same thing?"

Not wanting to seem rude, you had softened your words and added a teasing lilt so he could shrug it off as a joke if he so wished. Looking back, you knew that he would take the question apart in his own way, always so serious in that distant way of his, but at the time, you were earnestly looking forward to his answer. There was only so much you knew about him and only so much courage you had to enact upon your curiosity.

It was with bated breath that you heard him say:

"No."

And that was that.

He returned to his computer screen and sheaf of documents that lay underneath a tray of French and Italian pastries and pointed you in the direction of your next assignment. You had scoffed, almost in awe at just how much effort he put into that one response (which was absolutely none), but you had accepted it. At the very least, you were paid a hefty sum for your diligent work and because you were L's little underling, you didn't have to worry too much about job security. 

He handled that for you.

For a time, you conceded that the most that you would ever know about your employer and pseudo-confidant was that he was insanely rich, brilliantly intelligent, and that he liked pastries with strawberries best.

And that he liked wearing the same outfit every day.

Until now.

L cocked his head to his left, looking like a bird who was seconds away from pecking your eyes out should you make the wrong move.

Fortunately for you, the world's greatest detective wasn't keen on getting his hands dirty. Instead, he leaned closer to you, tip of his thumb resting at the bottom of his lip, and hummed.

"You shouldn't leave your laptop resting on the bed when it's still on. The heat absorbed by the sheets and mattress could damage the insides."

You blinked, not quite willing to understand that your employer was in your bedroom—squatting atop your clean bed sheets while barefoot!—you took in something that probably should have alerted you from the start that today was going to be an adventure in not going insane. 

Because. 

L.

Your boss. Your employer. The man who signed your paychecks. 

Was wearing the top half of your pajamas. 

You blinked, not willing to believe what your eyes were telling you. However, instead of seeing an old shirt that you had repurposed into being your nightwear disappear into his customary attire, it seemed to become clearer and more apparent that your boss was wearing your clothing. 

You had to ask, though. 

To be sure, of course. 

“Thanks for the advice.” You cast your gaze to the laptop that hummed sleepily at the foot of your bed, fully knowing that you were going to end up sleeping with it like a pillow for the rest of your life if you could help it. 

Not wanting to ignore the L shaped elephant in the room, you faced him again and blanched when you realized that he was staring at you again as if you were a tumor and he was the surgeon tasked to extract it. And yes, it was not as comforting as it sounded. 

“Is… that my shirt you’re wearing?”

“Yes. It’s remarkably… comfortable.” He paused for a moment to chew his thumb—to which you noticed his nails were once again close to the quick—and said as an afterthought, “It’s short notice, but I have another case and I need to use this particular location as headquarters. Until then, you will be compensated well for your discretion.”

Without waiting for your reply, L hopped off the bed—was he wearing your repurposed pants too?—and shuffled towards the door and exited. 

Sometimes, you thought you knew a lot about L. 

Today, you just realized that you didn’t know him at all. 

Well.

There is one thing to be gained knowledge-wise: he rocked your shirt better than you ever could.

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If you want to donate a Ko-Fi, feel free: https://ko-fi.com/devintrinidad.

DEATH NOTE MASTERLIST

[weeklyreadings]

Week 3

Basically just started reading from R/S Big Bang 2023. Loved every story so far.

house down by @maybebabyplease and @greyeyedmonster-18

Rated E. 22k. Wolfstar

Danny Ocean has three rules: Don't hurt anybody, don't steal from anyone who doesn't deserve it, and play the game like you've got nothing to lose. Sirius Black would like to add a fourth: Don't fall in love on the job.

an endless sky of honey by @colgatebluemintygel

Rated M. 35k. Wolfstar

After breaking his father’s most absolute law, Sirius is exiled to the shadowy Underworld, where all dead and forgotten things go. There, his dreams are haunted by memories of a lost love he was made to forget, and his waking moments are haunted by Death, the mysterious ruler of the Underworld, who Sirius finds himself increasingly drawn to…

The Spy Who Loved Him by optimisticdinosaur and @weightyghosts

Rated E. 35k. Wolfstar

Secret agent Sirius Black has long accepted that he's half in love with the wry, witty voice in his head who runs his mission comms back at MI6 - but seeing as he'll never actually meet Remus Lupin in person, a little bit of flirting (yes, okay, James, lots of flirting, happy?) is harmless... right? Besides, as the Quartermaster, Remus is far too busy coordinating missions and keeping all his agents alive through sheer determination (and technical brilliance) to consider a real relationship, let alone one with a man who laughs in the face of death every other day.

But when a mission to infiltrate a terrorist group called the Death Eaters comes up that only Remus can complete, Sirius will drop everything and race back to London to train him on the art of seduction and lying, aiming to keep him alive at all costs in the field.

The only problem? Remus Lupin is a terrible spy.

alea iacta est by @moonysverse and @munacy

Rated E. 39k. Wolfstar

In a world overtaken by zombies, Sirius Black is propositioned to traverse across the country to reunite with his brother and best friend. Too bad he has to take Remus Lupin with him, who he doesn’t trust nor like. Begrudgingly, for the sake of survival, they must work together.

A tale of adventure, trust, love, and heartbreak.

The Waste Land by @a-fiery-fox and @pjxckson

Rated M. 54k. Wolfstar

Political changes loom on the horizon. The UK is on the brink of becoming a totalitarian state and newly elected Prime Minister Tom Riddle might just be the man that finally tips the scales.

Somewhere in London, a hooded man spray-paints a phoenix onto a wall. Another man watches—wide-eyed, scared, hopeful.

Much later, the hooded man sacrifices himself to save the people most dear to him. Months of torture and military experiments change him to his very bones. He escapes—barely. Now, there is a savage monster residing within, and something as simple as kissing the love of his life becomes an insurmountable feat.

By Order of the Marauders by @jennandblitz

Rated E. 35k. Wolfstar

Leader of the Marauders--a drug-running, moonshine-brewing gang in 1920s Birmingham--Sirius Black is dealing with the incursion of The Pack, a Romany family stealing his betting pitches and taking over his speakeasies. Sirius has to learn to get along with their leader, Remus Lupin, because there is a greater threat to them both—Riddle and his men from London are looking to ruin them all. Along the way, Sirius gets much more than he bargained for.

[magicalgardenofhypnosis]

Superman is a excellent case study indeed a body boastful of a God, super human abilities and a legions of fans Galaxy wide.

Lex Luther watches this special in a state of rage pacing back am forth in bud luxe jail house setting.

Arms cross behind his back he pounds the floor in disgust at what he saw but more importantly he is lost.

“How can they worship him? He is a alien threat to human kind.” Lex yells throwing his tray of food.

He stops when the television screen goes off for a minute turning back on he can see a static.

“Lex, stare in to the screen open your mind to me not even you can resist me that’s it walk to the television.” A voice says with two arms propel forward and yank him in.

It’s precisely eight eight pm upon Lex’s eyes pops open and he awakens in strange room filled with far too many familiar faces for his taste.

“What is this some sort of trailer trash theme park for the bizarre?” Lex says with a hardy laugh.

The elevator pings resoundingly pulling their attention back to the shaft as it opens up to reveal a new comer.

The man say not single word digging into his pockets to retrieve a unimpressive remote control with a single button.

In the light of day it is clearly fully dark gold plated just like Lex expects of someone with a ego equal to his.

A finger presses the button signaling white nose sound emitting through the speakers and four massive window shades to rescind.

“Is that Superman? This cannot be possible in a million years.” Lex demands.

“ A man of your intellect denies what he sees?”

“I demand of know how you managed to do this.”

“So bossy! Simply put he took the bate.”

“Your ego is your downfall.”

“Every plan you make is so elaborate.”

“Super pussy is a Boy Scout”

“He is compulsively running into danger”

“Give him what he wants”

“I certainly did”

Lex marvels at the sheer brilliance and the ingenuity of my invention whirling around the mass that forms that Kryptonian mass.

The Man of Steel riddling with pain as estim lace with Kryptonite burn his skin at touch, a vr head piece adorns his head.

His clothes strip to pieces, a cow milking cup and machine get to work growing him hard and cunning consecutively.

I can hear his voice in rinse cycle of lust, pain, and joy continuously it is almost sickening.

His arms, and legs are held down with steel kryptonite lace to hold him down for the foreseeable future.

Inside the mind of Clark I begin a long lust filled journey taking a video gaming wand of controller in hand and go for it.

Pressing play I place my goggles on taking over the body of Clark Kent to my awe and

shock.

I signal my crew to enter the room locking it down they face my fellow rogues ensuing a attack and chain them down.

They are left to only see the man they once feared as a hero, the one who always came to defeat them fall.

“Well, well Clark let’s take a journey”

“Your subconscious! Lovely”

“Lois, and family.”

“Ugh!”

“Sheesh”

“Fuck this!”

“Time to do some damage”

“After I do some meditation”

“You will see things my way! Mwahahaha “

Lex and crew are in for a treat as the floor is beginning to spin out of control the platform rose upward.

“I am Lex Luther! I do not condone this”

A huge container drops from above closing in on them locking in place they continue to lift up.

“What was your plan all along to kill us?”

“Mwahahahahaha “

“Well done!”

Lex is perplex as a bomb starts to trigger in a ticking fashion blowing up consuming all of us.

“Nnnnnoooooo!”

“You see Clark! You are weak, unworthy, you are unable to save the rest.”

“Lex? Toy Man? Brainiac?”

“Nope! All gone! Mwahahaha”

“You are insane!”

“Maybe or maybe not “

“The point is I am in charge now”

“You are my captive Superman”

“I will make you squeal and beg for freedom”

The door opens to the room culling Clark’s heighten senses to focus on me with ears to turning.

“Your powers are still working”

“I will get loose and then”

“Then what? I thought so! Whatever!”

My hand goes flying smacking him hard as his head swings to the other side in pain not so strong.

Digging my hands in to his head I grab the stringy hair tightly would pulling him up and flick the switch.

“You see Clark, I am here, there and everywhere.”

“You cannot escape me bitch”

“Inside your mind I am remapping you, out side on the exterior we are refocusing you.”

“Shall we begin?”

“Stop fighting the brainwashing and milking “

“You are enjoying it, oh you are hard”

“Admit it!”

“Nnnnoooo! I want to so bad”

“Increase the pressure and the estim”

“Where did I put those scissors?”

“Ah here we go? First though”

“One injection and that should do it”

“Nnnoo! Aaaaaaaaahhhhhhh -zonk”

“Knocked out like a light”

“Will just let the four things play a part “

Scissors get to work from his legs up I cut his uniform to smithereens in delight they crumble in the floor.

“I am gonna enjoy fucking you”

“Raw and real”

“Feel the pain with each thrust”

“The pleasure with release”

“Succumb”

“It’s been hours man”

“Give in”

“Aaaaaahhhhhhh uuuuuuhhhhh”

“For fucks sake geez”

“Took you long enough”

“Sweet release Master”

“I know! Mwahahahahaha”

The end

[linuxgamenews]

Wraithbinder lets you delve deeper with co-op

Wraithbinder action roguelite RPG game has a new beta for Linux, Mac, and Windows PC. All of this is possible thanks to the hard work and sheer brilliance of Wizard Fu. Plus a new new beta phase coming to Steam. Double Eleven, the publishing company that supports digital masterpieces, has announced that it's teaming up again with Wizard Fu, the one-man game studio. If you remember the intense sci-fi adventure Songbringer in 2017, well, it's the same developer. Together, they're working on a thrilling action-packed escapade, Wraithbinder. This also take place in the same universe as Songbringer. From July 14 to 25, there's something extra happening. Wraithbinder is entering a new testing phase on Linux. So you and friends can try the action roguelite RPG with the new online co-op mode. To invite a friend, make sure you both click Request Access on Steam. Wraithbinder takes inspiration from Metroidvania - it's all about levelling up your character by gaining new abilities. Since each adventure you undertake is in a world that's uniquely generated every single time. Also, as you explore, you pick various weapons - gear for that close-quarters combat, long-range attacks, you name it. Along with special powers and relics that make you stronger to better take on enemies. As you become more powerful, you also unlock inaccessible places.

Wraithbinder 3rd Beta Trailer - April 2023

In this action-packed thrill-ride, you'll be face to face with multiple bosses plus new things to discover. Secrets are around every corner, with hidden items and routes to find. And even if you fall in Wraithbinder battle, it's not the end. Sure, you'll drop some of your precious gold and light, but your armor and stats stay intact. You then retreat to your ship - your base - where you can power up your character using the item you've found. Right now, you can enjoy this digital escapade either solo or with a friend online through Steam. In the future, you could be battling it out with three friends or even going head-to-head with other players. So, step into a world of endless action and adventure with Wraithbinder! It's a journey that's different every time you embark on it. Along with abilities and weapons that let you shape your own game. Including support for Linux, Mac, and Windows PC.

[devilisln-moved]

Of course I have my preferences when it comes to the grand mystery of Matt’s hypersenses and how he copes.You know, modern existence can be a sensory leaden hellscape even without absurdly heightened senses. Busy houses, screens akimbo, god it’s fucking weird and wonderful that we can watch anything we want on our fucking screens? You know I’m old and remember watching videos I uploaded on my Blackberry Pearl via bluetooth, squinting at a tiny scratched up screen on a bus. Shit I think I put movies on a Nano at some point? The ones with the “bigger”, colour screens. My point is, I need you to google that shit and understand that yeah, man phone screens are pretty fucking small but some of us were watching episodes of Torchwood on a screen about the size of a silver dollar piece in 2010 or whatever. My point is, we can pump ourselves full of sensory experiences. People make money by playing video games, watch videos, draw, cook, make music, being entertaining by doing so, and interacting with an active chat room. They’re not superhuman for being able to do that. They’ve just learned how to manage themselves or naturally function well with a lot of stimuli. I know I’m much more comfortable with something going on in the background when I’m writing. My rambling aside, I think when people talk about Matt’s hypersenses, or any character’s really, they don’t take into account that the brain is an amazing thing. There’s so much it does to order our perceptions.

Matt, as an adult, has always appeared functional unless his senses have been weaponized against him or other wise traumatic (like in intensity or volume). Psyloche, when trying read his mind or whatever, freaked out because she didn’t understand how it didn’t drive him crazy, the sheer amount of sensory input he took in. It’s generally used to back up some assertion of Matt’s brilliance. Which he absolutely is, but I don’t think his mind is like...automatically better because it probably had to essentially rewire itself just in order to adjust to the vast perception change, you know? I guess this has just been a long way to say, i think a lot of how Matt deals with his senses is both deliberate or an innate tendency to filter for the sake of sanity. Ofc, Frank Miller proposed that his apartment had sound proofing, which I don’t hate, either. Also I like the idea of someone installing sound proofing and remarking how weird it was that he didn’t have any recording equipment or lighting because they’re used to installing it for celebrities, influencers, and youtubers. ......although an entire apartment would be so expensive and Marvel has his economic situation perpetually changing. Like sometimes he’s a wealthy and successful lawyer, other times he’s barely scraping by. Honestly, I’m willing to say Matt is a more realistically written vigilante because it doesn’t just impact physically, emotionally, or his relationships. It affects him financially as well, and I respect that conceptually. It does make a big old question mark when it comes to his nice apartments and suits.I like to think his father set a fund up for him, and at least with that money, Matt’s more careful.

Anyway, thanks for coming to my stupid brain working through a thing.

[themovieblogonline]

Rings of Power Season 2 Episode 1: Sauron’s Origins Unveiled

Season 2 of The Rings of Power is here, and it's coming out swinging like Sauron himself. Episode 1 wastes no time in diving deep into the murky past of the Dark Lord, and boy, is it a ride! If you thought Sauron was always the big bad with orcs eating out of his hand, this episode is about to school you. Turns out, even Sauron had to earn his street cred in Middle-earth—one epic betrayal at a time. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c9fsBy45YTQ&t=2s SPOILER WARNING! SPOILERS FOR RINGS OF POWER BELOW Adar’s Rise and the Rebellious Orcs Let’s start with Adar. I’ll be honest, I always thought this guy just waltzed in and took command like he was born for it. But as The Lord of the Rings has taught us time and again, things are rarely that simple. Turns out, Adar had to work hard to rise to power, and even the orcs weren’t all about following him at first. Who knew these creatures had such a rebellious streak? It’s fascinating to see how they resisted Sauron, almost killing him before he finally took them down. That showdown was intense, showcasing Sauron’s tenacity long before he ever got his hands on that infamous Ring of Power. And let’s not forget Adar thinking he’d taken Sauron out for good. Classic villain move—underestimate your opponent and get ready for the plot twist of the century when Sauron shows up alive and kicking. The sheer determination of Sauron to survive is on full display here. It’s gruesome, it’s raw, and it’s hands-down one of the best scenes in the episode. Sauron’s Evolving Identity Speaking of twists, how about that reveal of Sauron’s elf-like appearance? This dude’s got layers. He starts off looking like an elf lord—smooth, elegant, and deadly. But then, he gets absolutely wrecked, only to regenerate into something more… human? We get an explanation later on why he looks like a man, but this elf form has got me thinking: Was Sauron originally an elf, or did he just borrow their form to get close to his enemies? Whatever the case, Sauron’s backstory in Rings of Power is a masterclass in villainy—complex, chilling, and utterly captivating. And let’s talk about his vanishing act. Adar should’ve known better. When Sauron’s body disappeared, that was the time to start worrying. It’s almost like Middle-earth’s version of a horror movie villain—just when you think they’re down for the count, they come back stronger. The eerie resemblance between Sauron and Aragorn in this scene is undeniable. It adds another layer of intrigue, making you wonder if Sauron is just a master at mimicking his foes, or if there’s something deeper going on. The Rings of Power's Cinematic Brilliance Now, let’s take a moment to appreciate the cinematography. Prime Video has really outdone itself this season. The sweeping shots of mountains are giving me serious Fellowship of the Ring vibes. The scene where Sauron is reborn and then heads out on that boat with the humans is pure visual poetry. The choice to focus on Sauron’s story in the first episode sets the tone for what promises to be a darker, more intense season. Prime Video’s Rings of Power Season 2 delivers an epic start, diving deep into Sauron’s origins with stunning visuals and a gripping narrative. The scene where Sauron gets his hands on that bag with the symbol of the kings of men? Chilling. Seeing the origins of such an iconic piece of The Lord of the Rings lore is something fans will geek out over. And let’s not overlook the fact that Sauron, despite his ruthless nature, almost seems to be giving the old man a warning before robbing him and leaving him to die. It’s a small moment, but it shows that there’s more to Sauron than just pure evil. Galadriel, Elrond, and the Rings of Power And what about our old friends Galadriel and Elrond? Their relationship continues to be one of the most fascinating in the series. That horseback riding scene felt like an homage to Liv Tyler’s iconic escape from the Nazgûl in Fellowship of the Ring. It’s beautifully shot, but also serves to remind us of the weight these characters carry. Elrond’s change of heart about Halbrand’s true identity is another highlight. It’s like the dude finally realized keeping secrets isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And the rings of power—oh man, the allure of these things is real. The rings of power aren’t just jewelry—they’re addictive, corrupting forces that set the stage for a darker Middle-earth. Elrond’s change of heart about Halbrand’s true identity is another highlight. It’s like the dude finally realized keeping secrets isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. And the rings of power—oh man, the allure of these things is real. Even without wearing them, you can feel their pull, much like the One Ring. This episode does a fantastic job of setting up the rings as something more than just powerful jewelry—they’re addictive, and their power is already starting to corrupt. A Stellar Start to Season 2 Overall, this episode nails it. Focusing on Sauron right out of the gate was a brilliant move by the creators. He was the standout character of Season 1, and Season 2 is already giving us more of what we crave. The other characters, like Galadriel, Elrond, and The Stranger, also get their moments, but let’s be real—the Sauron scenes are the showstoppers. And let’s not forget the appearance of Ben Daniels as Círdan the Shipwright. This guy was a force to be reckoned with in Foundation, and seeing him here as the wise elf is a treat. I’m looking forward to seeing how his story unfolds—especially since it seems like he’s got his own agenda when it comes to the rings of power. Rings of Power Season 2 Episode 1 is a strong opener, setting the stage for what looks to be an epic season. The stakes are higher, the characters are more complex, and the visuals are stunning. Can’t wait to see what Episode 2 has in store! But it's exciting to know that we're definitely getting a season 3. Read the full article

[thatmorningfix]

The Art of Chasing Dreams: Balancing Ambition and Chill

"I'm sick of following my dreams, man. I'm just going to ask where they're going and hook up with 'em later."

When I stumbled upon this quote by the legendary Mitch Hedberg, I couldn't help but burst into laughter. It's the kind of witty remark that hits close to home, challenging our relentless pursuit of success with a dose of humor and irreverence. But as much as I laughed, it also got me thinking—am I too uptight in my approach to achieving my dreams? Could a laid-back attitude actually be the secret ingredient to success? Join me as we embark on a lighthearted exploration of balancing ambition with chill.

Embracing the Quirkiness:

First things first, let's give credit where credit is due—Mitch Hedberg had a knack for turning mundane observations into comedic gold. His quirky take on life reminds us not to take ourselves too seriously and to find humor in the absurdity of it all. So, before we delve into the deeper questions about ambition and success, let's take a moment to appreciate the sheer brilliance of his wit.

The Struggle with Structure:

As someone who thrives on structure and organization, the idea of "hooking up with my dreams later" feels both liberating and terrifying. On one hand, it's a refreshing departure from my meticulously planned approach to life. On the other hand, the mere thought of relinquishing control sends shivers down my spine. But what if we took a cue from the quote and simply went with the flow? By relinquishing the need to control every aspect of our lives, we open ourselves up to new opportunities and experiences that we may have never imagined. So, let's embrace the unknown, trust in the journey, and see where life takes us.

Finding Balance:

As much as I'd love to channel my inner free spirit and embrace a more laid-back approach to life, the truth is, balance is key. While structure and ambition are essential for setting goals and working towards success, so too is flexibility and spontaneity.  Sometimes, the most memorable experiences happen when we least expect them. Perhaps it's not about completely abandoning one mindset in favor of the other, but rather finding harmony between the two.  Instead of obsessing over the destination, let's enjoy the ride and be open to unexpected opportunities along the way.

Embracing Failure with Humor:

Let's face it—life doesn't always go according to plan, and that's okay! Instead of viewing failure as a setback, why not embrace it with a sense of humor? After all, some of the best stories come from our most epic failures. So, the next time things don't go quite as planned, let's laugh it off, learn from the experience, and move forward with renewed determination and resilience.

Missing Out vs. Making Space:

The fear of missing out on opportunities can be paralyzing, leading us to overcommit and exhaust ourselves in pursuit of success. But what if, instead of frantically chasing after every opportunity that comes our way, we made space for serendipity? Whether it's enjoying a leisurely stroll in the park, indulging in our favorite hobbies, or simply spending time with loved ones, there's beauty to be found in the little moments of life. What if we allowed ourselves to step back, breathe, and trust that the right opportunities will present themselves in due time?  By shifting our focus from the future to the present, we can cultivate a sense of contentment and fulfillment right here, right now.

In Conclusion:

As we navigate the winding road of chasing our dreams, let's remember to inject a healthy dose of humor and spontaneity into the journey. While ambition and structure are important, so too is embracing the unexpected twists and turns along the way. So, here's to finding a balance between ambition and chill, and connecting with your dreams.  Take a moment to step back, breathe, and ask yourself: where are my dreams going? And perhaps, just perhaps, you'll find that they've been waiting for you all along, ready to take you on the adventure of a lifetime. Read the full article

[mammalsofaction]

Bartholomew "Perry" Fletcher prides himself for many, well-justified, things. He takes pride in his charm, which had helped him keep a leg over and one step further than his peers even while life kept the odds stacked against him. He prides for his family; their kindness, their love, their sheer unbridled optimism for life and peerless brilliance.

He prides in his career, and his indomitable professionalism. His reputation as one of OWCA's top agent was one hard-earned, and that he strives to maintain to the very best of his ability; if not for OWCA's sake, then for his own ego. Few things, if ever, could slip by him; and for all the warnings he had heeded, he had not realized the threat Heinz Doofenshmirtz posed to his being until he was trapped-literally and figuratively-too little, too late.

Oh, Perry thinks, squeezed inside the sticky web keeping him stuck to the ceiling as Heinz twirls his one-man kickline, belting his lungs to the tune of a musical number likely weeks in the making. He's cute.

He catches the thought red-handed as it attempts to flit back inside through the recesses of his mind like a light-footed criminal. Perry wishes he didn't. Shit, he thinks urgently. He could feel his ears burning-his most annoying, uncontrollable tell. How comfortable had he allowed himself to get within Heinz's presence to allow such judgements? Why? When had they begun?

He realizes, with no small amount of mortification, he knew perfectly well the answer to two of those questions, but not the third. Who can tell when Heinz's role and personhood began to appeal beyond professional courtesy, when their nemesis-ship began to grow beyond the typical regard of work acquaintanceship, much less a distant friend? Had he always noticed the bright spark of Heinz's baby blue eyes whenever Perry humoured the steps of their routine; the songs, the monologue, even their daily fights? When had the sharp angles of Heinz's features; the long slope of his half-broken nose, too sharp teeth, skinny legs and trim waist began to appear into something so lovingly familiar instead of something jarring and irritating? Had he always danced so joyously, tried so hard, loved so fiercely, blushed so sweetly?

Scarier than the idea he had only just noticed these features now, Perry thinks, was the possibility that they weren't new at all.

Heinz carries an impressive high-note as he lets himself be lifted on an impromptu platform stage above the bulk of his Pothole-Inator, looking to all the world like the sun of Perry's very own planetary system, and he can't help himself from thinking Oh, with some degree of panic. I love him.

Pinky's never going to let him live this down.

Realization hit him hard

[shhhh-jsb04]

Beyond the Arc and Into Basketball Immortality"

In the dynamic world of professional basketball, few players have left an indelible mark on the game quite like Stephen Curry. Known for his mesmerizing three-pointers, dazzling ball-handling, and infectious enthusiasm, Curry has not only redefined the sport but has become a cultural icon. Let's delve into the fascinating journey of the man often credited with changing the landscape of basketball.

**Early Years and Davidson Glory:**

Stephen Curry's basketball odyssey began in Akron, Ohio, where he honed his skills under the watchful eye of his father, Dell Curry, an NBA veteran. Despite a lack of initial attention from major college programs, Curry's performance at Davidson College during the 2008 NCAA Tournament thrust him into the national spotlight. His incredible scoring ability and clutch performances led the Wildcats to the Elite Eight, capturing the hearts of basketball fans everywhere.

**Golden State Gamble:**

Selected as the 7th overall pick by the Golden State Warriors in the 2009 NBA Draft, Curry's arrival in the Bay Area marked the beginning of a transformative era. Although his early years were marred by ankle injuries, Curry's resilience and determination would soon take center stage, setting the tone for the extraordinary career that lay ahead.

**Splash Brothers Phenomenon:**

The partnership with Klay Thompson gave rise to the "Splash Brothers" – a moniker that would echo through NBA history. Together, they formed one of the most lethal backcourts in the league, raining down three-pointers with unprecedented accuracy. This dynamic duo catapulted the Warriors to multiple NBA Championships, revolutionizing the game with their electrifying style of play.

**MVP Magic:**

In the 2014-2015 NBA season, Stephen Curry's transcendent talent reached its zenith. Not only did he lead the Warriors to an NBA Championship, but he also claimed the league's Most Valuable Player (MVP) award. His mesmerizing shooting displays, including a staggering 402 three-pointers in a single season, left fans and opponents alike in sheer disbelief.

**Beyond Basketball Brilliance:**

Curry's impact extends far beyond the hardwood. His leadership both on and off the court has been a driving force for the Warriors. Embodying qualities of humility and sportsmanship, he has become a role model for aspiring athletes worldwide. Curry's charitable endeavors, including initiatives for education and youth empowerment, showcase his commitment to making a positive impact beyond the game.

**Championing Resilience:**

The journey hasn't been without challenges. Curry faced setbacks, including significant injuries that tested his resolve. However, his ability to overcome adversity and return stronger than ever solidifies his status not just as a phenomenal player but as a testament to the power of perseverance.

**Legacy and Cultural Impact:**

As Stephen Curry continues to dazzle on the court, his influence has transcended basketball. The "Curry effect" is evident in the shift towards three-point-oriented strategies adopted by teams at all levels. His impact on popular culture, marked by the ubiquitous "Curry range" and the proliferation of young players emulating his style, cements his legacy as a true game-changer.

**Conclusion:**

In the annals of basketball history, Stephen Curry's name is etched in golden letters. His journey from a relatively unheralded college player to a three-time NBA Champion and two-time MVP is a testament to his skill, work ethic, and enduring love for the game. As Curry continues to redefine the boundaries of what's possible on the basketball court, his legacy as a revolutionary figure in the sport is destined to endure for generations to come.

[ininsulaavalonia]

SNK officially ended today and it's been a much more overwhelming experience than I would've thought. The manga left me feeling apathetic - it killed my interest in this series for what, a year? Two? So I had 0 reasons to think the anime would coax anything else out of me.

...

I was wrong. Admittedly, not like we're talking purely positive emotions here - I still have a lot of resentment, bitter regret and the itch to shake all the yens out of Isayama's pockets. But even so. I guess I should've known better - the writing has [had] its flaws. The voice acting and the music/score, tho? Never did. Not a one.

Add to that MAPPA's mindboggling dedication and passion for the craft and source material. I'm not perfectly happy with them for very biased reasons [they did away with a few of my RM crumbs], but no sane person could ever deny that they knocked it out of the fuckin park. They did all that while juggling 9620 other major franchises [and killing it there, too]. Ufotable will always be my #1, but MAPPA has come very close these past few years. Just hope everyone who worked on SNK post-changing hands gets to take pride in their work and maybe actually like.see their families or smth, lol.

But yeah - I will never be able to stress this enough: like at least 60% of the reason SNK had the ridiculous impact on me it did, of the reason it will be remembered as a classic/ legendary series, despite its flaws, of the reason precious few fictional works, irrespective of genre/medium will hope to ever even come close to the level of pure, raw exhilaration and emotional immersion SNK served on a pretty regular basis...was [and always will be] Sawano's masterpiece. Yamamoto has proven himself to be an A+ understudy/disciple 'Ashes on the Fire' will always slap], and ofc the likes of Linked Horizon, Ai Higuchi, Mika Kobayashi and all the other contributing artists deserve their fair share of laurels. But this score will always be Sawano's baby. I've a lot of comfort/fave soundtracks and the like; I can't remember one that did so much for its story, tho. Complemented its own brilliance this incandescently and profoundly.

And ofc the seiyuus were always excellent. That was not news to me. I'll always sing Kamiya's praises and keep Yui's future roles on my radar [and Marina almost stole the show here]. But most of my respect and admiration -sheer awe of, really- has to go to Yuki Kaji. He has such an incredible body of work, but I'd be shocked if people genuinely thought this, Eren's part,*wasn't* his defining performance. The role of a lifetime. It's not just his VA chops, either- the man's a pro in every sense of the word. Despite what Isayama put Eren through, despite that BS insult of an ending [painted in the most pathetic and pitiful colours, for all the world to see] that MAPPA sadly didn't alter [...made it worse, actually, what with Isayama's revisions/ additions and all] - he still gave it his all, still tried to see things through Eren's perspective to the bitter, mockable end. K I N G.

I wish I could heap this kinda praise on the writing, too. Sadly, this will stay one of my biggest frustrations and regrets re: any fictional work I've ever consumed. Isayama's expanding on the Armin-Eren heartfelt talk at the end made me feel, either successively or simultaneously. soft, emotional and mournful... and/or horrified, outraged and baffled by what his messaging seemed to make even more explicit/ double down on: that Eren, the protag the audience/readers got to see grow, the one they came to emotionally invest in? Was really just an 'idiot with too much power'. Ultra!Hitler stripped of his perceived alpha traits: just a lonely, pathetic, petulant, ridiculous *boy*. And while the 'I'll go to hell with you' spiel from Armin was one of the things that turned on the waterworks for me, I fully reject this attempt by the narrative to paint him in similar, bloodstained colours [or maybe I don't reject it - even if that were true, Armin will always be a hero to me. And sadly, my 2nd fave character after what Isayama did to Mikasa's character].

I'm just so fucking tired and angry by this nihilistic, cynical trend of backstabbing your audience/readers for the grave offence of their placing their trust in you. GOT did it first, ofc -and Isayama went 'hold my beer', apparently-. But the thing that makes this even more frustrating and painful - is that unlike those 2 fucking hacks, Isayama is an actual writer. A fantastic one / credit where credit is due [and funnier than he's usually given credit for, as the finale reminded me]. His skill isn't the issue - his cynicism / 'nothing is sacred' attitude is. The fact that he just yeets characters' dignities out the window can and has added so much heartache, tragedy and realism to his story and his overall style. But it also leads to this sort of betrayal.

I guess the underlying message of 'how to live with the horrible things you did for others/ for your own survival' is pretty hopeful. Armin's 'I felt like I was born for this moment', the ~it's the apparently pointless, little things, and the people you share them with that you have to hold on to and cherish ~ point has always, will always resonate with me. But I doubt it will ever be enough to get rid of all the bitterness [also: not even gonna get into Founder!Ymir, that shitty parallel to Mikasa, and that entire 'BECAUSE LOVE' clusterfuck. This isn't real life, Isayama. Fiction needs a why. YOU KNOW THIS]

Sigh. Anyway. In the end, even the fact that I felt this strongly, considering... is also a testament to the insane sort of impact this story is capable of. SNK -and RM [and Levi! The one good thing not even Isayama managed to taint -*...knock on wood*- That beautiful, awkward, baddest-of-the-baddies KING. The heart, soul and embodiment of the Scouting Legion-]- have meant so much to me - were a lifeline in the aftermath of the worst thing I've ever experienced. I'll never forget that sense of unique, intense exhilaration I felt while watching the first few episodes, a decade ago, in a Durham seminar room. Or the rollercoaster every feeling I'd ever had --and a buncha new ones- went on those following nights, as I binged the remaining episodes and the manga. Or RM. I wish things could have been different. But that doesn't mean I'll ever throw it out of my mental and emotional Hall of Fame. Thank God for fanfic.

That and. I *will* always carry that weight, I guess.

[aivantegarde]

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