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megamindsecretlair · 1 year ago

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Be My Little Darling - Chapter 9

Chapter 8 Chapter 10

Pairing: Loki x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. FILTH. Angst. Oral (male and fem receiving), PIV, dirty talk, slight degrading talk, use of magic, and heavy mentions of survivor's guilt, negative self-talk, violence.

Summary: Loki is the exclusive owner of the hottest club in New Asgard. Dubbed the Nine Realms, each of the nine rooms represent a different realm. You are his second in command, working the floors and ensuring everyone is having fun. This dance between you and Loki has gone on long enough. You head to his place with a mission.

Word Count: 5,858k

Masterlist

A/N: WHEW! Welcome back, welcome back! Hope you enjoy because I definitely did. Loki season 2 has me FERAL. I love that he's using his magic more and that one scene?? WOOOOF! Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

Taglist: @cantstayawaycani @braverthanthenewworld @monaeesstuff @chaos-4baby @dayjlovesromance @soft-persephone @mybonafidefeelings

Your hand hovered on the door in front of you. Nerves bubbled in your gut and twisted. You lowered your hand and bit your lip. This was insane.

But the club had been running itself ragged trying to clean up the mess the saboteur made. Loki managed to switch the rooms back around. He was forced to close the club for a few days as he did so. The employees were not happy. No work, no pay.

You worked from sun up to sun down trying to help decipher the problem. You had magic but it wasn’t on Loki’s scale. Nor the saboteurs. You were a glorified tool belt, able to conjure tools and weapons at whim. You had stared at both of the cards left behind and the only thing you were able to gleam was that they were created magically. Duh.

So after a week or two cleaning up the mess, everyone was exhausted. Loki didn’t have enough energy to tease you normally. The club was due to reopen again tomorrow. Loki was determined to not let the saboteur get to you both. But you hadn’t been much help, always going off about the things you would do to them once you found them.

You wrung your hands and stared at his door, willing him to sense you and take the decision out of your hands. But no. This was your decision. You drove over here, you climbed the steps to the apartment above the club, and you were going to knock on this damn door.

You knocked before you could think twice about it. A moment later, Loki opened the door and smiled tiredly at you. “Darling…a pleasure as always,” he said. He swept to the side and opened the door wider, inviting you in.

The feeling was not unlike entering the chamber of a famous monster. In you went. Your heels sunk into plush carpet and you were taken aback by how open and inviting his space was. It was painted in earth tones, rich greens and browns and dark blues. His couches complimented the paint colors well, soft velvet fabric stretched over comfortable looking cushions.

There was a half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, but everything was mostly open plan. Paintings took up space on the walls, of various scenes of bodies pressed together. The images were evocative and vaguely erotic. Of course they were. Loki closed the door and you turned to face him.

He stood with his legs crossed and leaned against the wall next to the door. You watched as he locked it. He was all angles and lines and delicious as hell. He wore soft pants and a plain T-shirt. For some reason, you always imagined that he walked around naked in his home. It was wishful thinking, maybe, but still. He seemed the type to not want to be obstructed in any way. Free.

That freedom drew you to him. He was completely in control of who he was. He owned everything. His warts and all. And still he walked around proudly. Like he owned the world and they just didn’t know it yet.

“We’ve been working hard the past few weeks,” you said. You hadn’t exactly prepared a speech, but how did one exactly launch into begging to be fucked?

“We have,” he said. A smirk played on his lips and you hated him. You craved him but you hated that you would never get the chance to unravel him. To twist him to pieces like he did to you. You doubted that he stayed up all night, rock hard, unable to get relief because he wasn’t buried inside of you.

Your clit throbbed and you shook your head. Focus.

“And we know that rest is important. It was practically a requirement on Asgard,” you said. You missed the feasts and jovial mood that clung to Asgard. You partied for birthdays, weddings, funerals, and any occasion under the sun. There was a full moon? Feast. A rare comet? Feast.

“True,” Loki said.

The bastard wasn’t going to make this easy. Fine. You came prepared. You untied the belt of your jacket and let it fall to the floor. Underneath, you wore an emerald bra and panties set. The bra pushed your tits together to give you a pretty cleavage and the panties spanned the expanse of your sexy ass.

In taking care of your siblings and pretending that everything was fine, you lost yourself. The person you were on Asgard. Asgardians had to be a resilient people. Your home was on the edge of a universe, a veritable rock hurtling through space. You survived the destruction of your world, the ship, half of the universe gone. But the gods conspired to put you and Loki here and now.

It was high time you took the gift the gods offered. Loki’s eyes darkened as he took in your body. He took a deep breath as his eyes roamed up and down.

“I’ve no mood for games, Darling,” he said. His voice sent shivers down your spine. It was so deep and soothing.

You crossed the short distance to him. Your heels still didn’t touch how tall he was. You pressed your chest against his. Your palms traveled from his chest, up and around his neck. You pulled him to you and kissed him.

He reacted instantly, his hands coming around your waist and pulling you closer. Your core rubbed against his thickening erection and you hummed. His lips were divine as they moved with yours, suckling your bottom lip.

“No games, Loki. I just want you,” you whispered against his lips.

He drew away from you and looked down into your eyes. “Who are you?” He asked. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

You giggled. “I’m your Darling,” you said. You began to slide down his body, keeping eye contact. You sank to your knees. The carpet really was soft and your knees felt fine kneeling like this.

“You wanted to hear me beg and burn for you. To give me what I want. Well, I’m taking it. We both deserve it,” you said. You watched his expression turn from suspicion to anticipation as he watched your hands.

You tugged on the sides of his pants until they slipped over his slim hips. He wore no underwear. His dick sprang free and bobbed stiffly. You rubbed your nose across the head of his dick and he hissed.

“I can’t keep fighting you, Loki,” you said. After the entire breakdown in his office, you had to come to the realization that you were hurting yourself. Punishing yourself beyond what was normal. You had a life before. Filled with laughter and a carefree attitude. You were somebody before. And you wanted to be someone again.

You wanted to feel alive again. You wanted to take pleasure where you wanted. You were tired of the feverish dreams. You were tired of the pining. There were a few times that you watched Loki work and you got so hot and bothered, you had to fan your sweaty thighs.

You gave yourself permission to want him. And that unlocked some part of you. All the aspects of your personality that you repressed came flooding to the surface.

You ran your tongue down one side of his dick and up the other. Loki groaned and threw his head back against the wall. “Be very sure, Darling,” he said.

You smirked. You stroked his dick with your hands, using beads of his precum to wet the head. He licked his lips as he focused on you.

“I need you, Loki,” you said. You blinked at him as you took him into your mouth.

“Gods,” he moaned and his eyes crossed.

“I know I’ve been difficult. Those were my issues to get over. But you helped me. And now I want to return the favor,” you said.

You suckled the head of his dick, taking sick pleasure in the way he writhed and moaned against the wall. It was sheer willpower keeping him standing as you bobbed your head. His hands caressed your cheeks. Your hair was pulled into a ponytail so there was nothing to move out of his way. He didn’t need to worry about anything but pleasure. Nothing but your mouth on him.

“You’re the furthest thing from difficult, Darling,” he croaked.

The praise only made you work harder. You let him go with a wet pop and fisted his dick. You stroked him, switching pressure and twisting as you went. His hips jerked towards you. You took him back into your mouth with a needy moan. You loved the saltiness of him. He smelled like him, like sin made flesh. You hummed as you pleased him and his mouth worked but no sound came out.

He chuckled as you continued, going faster and faster, bobbing your head and suckling. A mix of saliva drooled down the side of your face. He wiped it away and let you see the unbridled lust in his eyes. It made your pussy ache. To plead with no words that it needed him inside of you.

“I need you, Loki. I need you inside of me,” you told him. After each word, your mouth dipped to his dick. Your filthy slobbering echoed in his living room. He was not selfish with his moans. He gave excellent feedback, letting you know that you were pleasuring him how he liked.

You knew by now how to make him really go crazy. You increased your speed, going faster than you would have dared. Your hands stroked his thighs and his ass. His moans turned desperate, his grip on your cheeks sloppy.

“Oh gods,” he moaned before busting inside of your mouth. His pulsing cum splashed down your throat and you sucked up everything he gave you. You licked the side of your mouth where some escaped.

Loki went slack against the wall and he wiped his wet hair away from his temple. He panted as if he ran a marathon and grabbed your face. He kissed you, licking the inside of your mouth. Anything his tongue could reach.

“Is this what you’ve been hiding from me for all these years? This little vixen?” He asked. He returned to kissing you, preventing you from answering. He kissed the corner of your mouth, your jawline, and your neck. Tingles of pleasure ran through you. But you weren’t done begging.

You stood up from your knees, Loki helping you the rest of the way. He was so strong. In so many ways.

You pushed his pants further down and made him step out of it. Then you yanked his shirt completely off, leaving him bare. Your hungry eyes raked over him. Taking in every delicious inch of him. His broad chest, his abs, his powerful thighs.

You took his hand and led him to the couch. You pushed him down and straddled his lap. His hands ran greedily over your ass and you moaned. You cupped his neck and played with his hair while you settled onto his lap.

You leaned forward and kissed him softly. “I want you,” you said. You kissed him again and licked his lips.

He hummed low in the back of his throat. His hands moved up your back and then back to squeeze your ass. “I do love hearing you say that,” he said. “Your mouth could order my destruction and I’d find a way to make it happen.”

“Never. You get on my fucking nerves, Loki. But it’s only because I wanted to deny how much I craved you. Have always craved you. On Asgard, you would have never looked twice at me. Here, it’s only because I work so closely with you.”

Loki’s hand came up to grab your neck and he squeezed. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he said. His eyes were like twin flames of sapphire. “I would be drawn to you anywhere. Though you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on, you’re so much more than your beauty. Your strength, your protectiveness, and that mouth. Hmm,” he hummed and turned your head to the side. He licked your neck and you shuddered. “The dreams I’ve had about that mouth.”

You were still Loki’s plaything. You were on top of him. You just gave him an incredible orgasm. And yet with one move, you were back at his mercy. It only made you smile. You were the furthest thing from healed that you could possibly get. You had leagues to go before you understood all of your issues.

However, the thought of him being in control didn’t scare you half as much as it did a few weeks ago. Once you gave yourself permission to feel, everything came flooding in. And the loudest thought among them was that you wanted him so badly, you thought you were going to combust.

You tugged on his hair and he drew his head back with a moan. “Fine. I want you. I’ve been wanting you. I want your dick inside of me. I want you to please me. I want you to claim me. Destroy me. Ruin me for any other man,” you said. You kissed a hot trail of fire up his neck, licking in strategic places, making him hiss with pleasure.

Loki chuckled darkly. His thumb stroked over your pulse point. He could squeeze the life out of you right now and there wouldn’t be a thing you could do to stop him. Almost as if he could read your thoughts, he pressed a little harder and you gasped.

He brought his hands back to your ass and squeezed your flesh under your panties. He kneaded and massaged your ass and you squirmed on top of him. Your pussy was dripping wet already and he hasn’t really touched you where you needed him.

He took a deep breath and let it go slowly. It fanned over your chest. “Would that I had the power to stop time, we would never leave. My idea of ruin would leave you a pathetic, useless mess as I fucked you any way i saw fit,” he said.

You moaned at his filthy words. At the dark promise of seduction in the cadence of his voice.

He hummed as he moved one of his hands to the front, pushing your panties aside and feeling how wet you were. He groaned in satisfaction. “Ah, my little Darling likes that, don’t you? You want to be used like a filthy whore?” He asked.

Your thighs tingled. You bit your lip and moaned. Words were too complicated for you. But you forced yourself to look at him. To show him how needy you were. His fingers traced the outline of your pussy lips and entrance and you whined.

“Please,” you whispered. It’d been too fucking long. Too fucking long that you allowed yourself the touch of someone else. You were glad you waited. You were glad that Loki saw right through you. You were glad that Loki was there to rediscover this side of you.

“I think you can beg better than that, Darling,” he said. He kissed your cheek and pulled back to watch your face.

You huffed a laugh, too wound up to make a scathing remark. You still had some dignity. It was nothing in comparison to his thumb tracing just outside where you needed him.

“Please, Loki. Please. I can’t fuckin’ stand it. Not having your hands on me. Your lips on mine,” you said. You twisted your hips, grinding into him. Trying to take what he didn’t want to readily give.

He tsked at you. “Impatient. You want it that badly?” He asked. His face was a cruel mix of mockery and interest. He could throw you off of him right now and he’d enjoy it either way. You were grateful that he just wanted to play with you.

You stared into his eyes and nodded desperately. “Please, I want it so badly. So badly,” you said. You kept grinding on his hand, running his hand back and forth while he kept it still. His free hand gripped your thigh, a solid weight.

“How badly?” He asked. His eyes darkened once more, the God of Mischief making his full debut.

“I’ll do anything,” you said.

He grinned, bordering on mania. “Anything?” He asked. His thumb pressed between your pussy lips, skimming the surface of your clit. Your hips jerked and you cried out at the sensation. You were so fucking close. You thought he might play with you a little, for taking so long to come around, but this was near torture.

“Anything. Fuck, Loki, please, I can’t anymore,” you cried. You sounded weary to your own ears.

Loki ground his hips into you, making his thumb finally touch your clit. “No more fighting me, Darling. Wherever, whenever I want you. At the club, at your place, in the middle of a store, anywhere I want to bury myself inside you. Clear?” He asked.

You weren’t sure if he was joking or not. You couldn’t concentrate as his thumb circled your clit in wide circles, driving your pleasure to new heights. However, you were coherent enough to catch the gist of his words. He wanted to use you whenever he wanted. The thought alone made you cry out and nod.

“Fuck, yes! I’ll do it, please,” you begged. You buried your head into his chest, unable to keep your head up. Loki chuckled darkly as he finally gave in. He increased the pressure on your clit and you moaned and whined and shook on top of him. In no time, you shivered as you came, your body turning limp and pliant.

“Gods,” you moaned as the pleasure finally eased. You felt more relaxed than you had in five long years. You huffed against him as he held you close to him. He hummed as he licked your juices from his fingers.

“You’re quite welcome,” he said. You laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

“Shut up,” you said.

He peppered you with kisses as your body slowly recovered from the orgasm. That was nothing like what you were able to wring from yourself. The very act of Loki touching you made everything more heightened, more sensitive. It was insane how your body reacted to him.

His lips found yours and you sat there contendly, kissing him slowly. “Not that I'm not grateful, but what inspired this?”

You smiled. “As if you haven’t been driving me crazy since you first kissed me,” you said.

He chuckled and shook his head. “I was prepared for your stubbornness to outlast my patience,” he said.

You played with his silky hair. Your head was on his shoulder and it hit you, that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. It used to frighten you. But you couldn’t keep the world out forever and then cry about not being seen. Heard. It scared you more that you would leave this new existence never having been a part of it.

“It was exhausting,” you said. You were glad that he couldn’t see your face at the moment. You weren’t quite brave enough to look him in the eye and say this.

“I turned myself into a shell of who I used to be in order to make amends for living where my family couldn’t. For not grabbing my best friend and moving her next to me, to survive. It wasn’t my fault, I always knew that. But I still survived. I’m still here and they’re not. But then, that’s just wasting the chance I was given. I’m still here and it sucks, but it doesn’t have to be as painful as I’ve been making it.”

You picked your head up and looked at him. This you could say to his face. “And when I look at you, when I’m near you, I feel good. Like myself. I want to keep feeling that way. I love the way I feel when you look at me. Even when you tease me,” you said. You leaned down and kissed him.

He swept his tongue across your lips and you gasped. He grabbed your hand and kissed it. Then he moved it to his hardening dick. “Do you feel what you do to me?” He asked.

You nodded. He stroked your hand up and down his dick. The velvet thickness of him made your pussy contract. Your mouth watered, wanting to taste him again.

“The only thing I’ve done is make sure that you don’t give up on yourself. I’ve wanted you then, I want you now. All of you. Anyway, I can have you.”

You kissed him as you stroked him. His words were too much. Tears stung your eyes but you refused to let them fall. You were finally getting what you wanted. There would be time for talking later. You loved that you were so familiar with each other, that you could have these quiet moments. But you came here for dick.

You kissed up his neck, along his strong jaw, up to his ear. You teased the lobe between your teeth and felt his dick twitch in your hand. “Use me, Loki,” you whispered.

A full body shiver passed through Loki. He grinned slowly and you had a fleeting moment of fear. Your words were the key to something. Because he stood up with you in his arms and you yelped. You clung to him, not used to being off of the ground so high. His malicious chuckle sent tingles up your thighs as he walked you to his bedroom.

Here, the room was surprisingly bright. You thought he’d have black sheets and dark walls. But his walls were a lighter shade of blue and his sheets a deep, royal green. His furniture wasn’t as dark as you pictured either. His windows were open, letting in a soft breeze from outside.

Loki laid you on the bed, lifting your hands above your head, and remained standing. He stood there in naked glory and studied your body. Your body felt electric under his gaze. Like you hovered in front of an electric fence. Loki kept a dark, manic gleam in his eye. You watched as his eyes glowed green and vines wrapped around your wrists.

You looked up and your hands were bound together and pulled against his headboard. “Loki?” You asked.

“You asked me to use you, Darling,” he said. He waved his hand and a blindfold slid over your eyes. You jerked and tried to sit up.

“Loki?” An edge of panic crept into your voice.

Loki shushed you. The bed dipped as he leaned over you and kissed you. The feel of his lips on yours slowly relaxed you. “Trust me, Darling.” He kissed your ear and didn’t move. Leaving the decision up to you.

You came here to be ruined and by the gods, by the literal god above you, you were going to enjoy yourself. So you nodded and relaxed against the bed. Loki released a breath as if he was prepared for you to tell him stop. He kissed along your body, his hands trailing behind where he just kissed.

He rested his head against your chest and hummed. “You knew what you were doing when you wore this, didn’t you?” He asked.

You couldn’t see a thing past the blindfold he conjured. You could only rely on feeling, hearing, and smell. It turned you on that you were at his mercy. “Yes,” you said.

He chuckled. His teeth grabbed the piece of fabric in between your breasts and he tugged, releasing it with a snap. The tiny sting made you hiss. You squeezed your thighs together, needing more. You were desperate for him to get inside you.

“Please, Loki. No teasing,” you said. You will have plenty of chances in the future for teasing. For learning each other's bodies. You wanted to get fucked.

Loki only chuckled. “I finally get to fuck you and you want me to rush?” He asked.

“Yes, please,” you said. He licked your chest, right beneath your bra. Your breath stuttered in your chest.

“I will do whatever the hell I want with you. Including, taking my time to savor this offering,” he said.

His hands gripped your knees and pried your legs apart. You gasped at the dichotomy of his soft, commanding voice and the way he gripped you. He kissed a wet trail down your tummy, nibbling in certain places, before descending between your legs.

He pressed his nose there and inhaled deeply, moaning. “You smell delicious,” he said. He licked the outside of your panties and your hips jerked off of the bed.

Mistakes may have been made. You were prepared for a cruel, hard fucking. The type of deep, satisfied fucking that left you walking funny the next morning. Not this torture. Not the glee he took in holding himself back.

He hummed again. He licked the sensitive area between your thigh and your pussy and you moaned. “Fuck,” you said.

He chuckled and did it again and again, making you squirm. “You’re so responsive, Darling. I’m only sad it took us so long to get here. Guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time, hm?”

He licked the spot again and your leg jerked. This so wasn’t fair. “Please, Loki,” your voice was a ragged mess.

“I’ll never tire of the way you beg,” he said. “Lucky for you, I’ve been dreaming of tasting you. Licking this sweet pussy of yours.” He kissed your thigh, gripped it in his large hands and squeezed. He bit your other thigh and you cried out.

He hooked your legs around his arms and spread them further. He moved your panties to the side and blew a breath across your pussy. You squirmed and made a little mewling sound.

He hummed and ran his tongue down the seam of your pussy lips. You panted and huffed, unable to handle this type of teasing. His thumbs spread you open to him and he sighed. “Even prettier than I imagined,” he whispered.

Surely he saw how painfully you clenched. How wet he made you. You could feel yourself leaking already.

He wiggled his tongue against your clit, and you jerked away from him. He pulled down his arms, pulling you flush against him. He continued to wiggle and wrangle his tongue around your clit, drawing out undignified sounds from you.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you moaned. You squirmed but there was nowhere to go. No choice but to accept what he did. The way he made slow, concentrated circles on your clit. He hummed and moaned as your arousal continued to leak out of you.

Your moans echoed off of his walls. His hums of pleasure vibrated on your clit. The rumble in his chest tickled the back of your thighs. Your hands pulled against the restraints. You wanted to touch him. Feel him. His hair draped across your belly and thighs. You wanted to feel it wrapped around your fingers.

“Taste so fucking good. Cum for me, my Darling,” he said. He kept up the pressure, kept circling, and suckling. Your body twitched and jerked until you finally came with a loud, obnoxious moan.

Your thighs squeezed his head as heat and pleasure suffused you. Sounds escaped you, but none of them were words. You were tense with explosive pleasure. You flopped onto the bed when you were done and Loki licked up everything you gushed out. He hummed as you jerked from the intense pleasure.

Loki kissed your thighs, leaving sloppy wet kisses everywhere. “I wish you could see the sight of you right now,” he murmured. “Spread open for me. Letting me see this pussy. Tied up.”

Each of his words were like a stab of pleasure into your belly. Your stomach twisted with desire, even after the orgasm you just had.

“Please, please,” you chanted. Your wrists were getting rubbed raw from pulling against the restraints. “Let me feel you. Let me see you,” you begged.

“No.” Loki yanked at your panties, ripping them from your body.

“Hey!”

Loki chuckled. “I’ll buy you more,” he said.

“That’s not the point. I liked those,” you complained.

Loki chuckled as he climbed up your body, kissing as he went along. “Get used to it. I’ll rip every single pair of panties you own. They’re in my way,” he said. He settled his hips in between your legs and you moaned. His thick dick rubbed against your sensitive clit.

“I can take them off.” Your voice was breathy. Finally, finally. Instead of entering you, Loki ripped your bra off.

“Aw, come on. Those are expensive!”

Insults sprang to your lips but his lips around your exposed nipple made you cry out instead. “Shit,” you said and jerked. The suctioning pressure sent ripples of pleasure through your body, making your clit throb in time with your pulse.

He bit in between your breasts and then focused his attention on your other nipple. “I’ll buy you anything you require, Darling. Anything. Ask me for the moon and I’ll steal it for you,” he said.

You tried to chuckle, but moans were dragged from you whether you wanted it or not. There was no way to be entirely sexy while at someone’s mercy. You heard your desperate moans. Your keening whines.

“There’s nothing I would deny you,” he said. He groaned as swirled his tongue over your nipple. He entered you, on one fell swoop, and your back left the bed as you bucked.

It was glorious. It transcended words. He slipped in easily, but he was still wide. He still stretched you. Your legs were plastered to the bed as he pounded into you. There was no gentleness here. There was no teasing, no grinding. This was fucking. He fucked you, used you like a personal pleasure toy. His groans were louder than yours.

“Gods, the way you feel,” he said and chuckled. “There was no way to imagine this.” You knew he was talking to you, but it also felt like he was talking more to himself. He slammed into you, your body rocking into the bed with each brutal thrust.

His usual calm demeanor slipped from him. His hips jerked, his hands searched everywhere. He didn’t know if he wanted to grab your thighs, your breasts, your hips. His hands roamed everywhere as he kept up his punishing rhythm.

“Loki, Loki, Loki,” you chanted. Your orgasm crested new heights, building and building, yearning for the precipice. “Cum, Darling, cum,” he commanded.

You detonated beneath him. He drove his hips in further, hitting your G-spot and you cried and bucked off of the bed. You squeezed the hell out of his dick and he cried out one more time, before joining you. His hips stuttered as he unloaded inside of you, shooting his cum into your warm, wet pussy.

Your body writhed as you came, out of your control, and not the least bit scary. Tears sprang to your eyes again, the immense intensity robbed you of all thought. “Oh Darling,” Loki moaned as the tears slipped past your blindfold.

His dick twitched inside your entrance and you filed that information away for later. Your mouth turned dry. You should have known better than to play with a god. He was insane. Built for pleasure. He had hundreds of years to perfect this. To build up the skills necessary to make you cum with just a crook of his fingers. Gods, how you loved it.

He slipped out slowly, he was still partially hard. He ripped the blindfold off of you. The low light was enough to burn your eyes. Loki wiped away the tears on your face and smiled at you.

You smiled back and he kissed you. He licked your nose and then your lips. “I want another one,” he said.

“What?”

He leaned back and picked you up like you were nothing. He flipped you onto your stomach, grabbing your hips and pulling your ass into the air. You groaned as he spread you open. “I don’t have another one,” you complained.

He chuckled as he slapped your ass, watching it jiggle. He groaned. “Find one,” he said.

Then, he slammed his hips back into you, his dick spearing into you. He was on a mission. Fucking you, pounding you. You twisted your head to look at him a bit. His head was thrown back, his hair a twisted mess about his shoulders. He looked like he was in another realm of pleasure, that there was only you and him and the unadulterated bliss bouncing between you.

He slapped your ass again and you used your elbows for leverage, to throw your ass back on him. To match his long strokes. He angled his hips and hit your G-spot. He wrapped your ponytail around his hand, down to the scrunchie and pulled. You began to ramble, cry, and moan as he kept hitting that spot. He used it for target practice, hitting it and enjoying the sounds you made.

“That’s it, Darling. Bounce on this cock. Crave it. I’ll give it to you anytime you need. When you can’t think straight. When you’re so blind with pleasure that you’ll let me take you whenever I want. I will remake you how I want,” he said.

Your body wound too tight. Like a rubber band snapping, you came once more. Dark spots winked in and out of your vision. You moaned into the sheets, flooding his dick with your arousal. He talked you through it.

“You beautiful fucking creature,” he moaned. Each word was a deeper stroke. On the last word, he came and stuffed you full of cum again. The hot, bursting cum leaked out of you and down your thighs.

You groaned and shivered as the last dregs of the orgasm wore you out. You sniffled as you collapsed onto the bed. Loki’s huffs fanned across your back as he gripped you and held you still.

His dick stopped twitching and he left you on a slow glide. He collapsed next to you. You barely kept your eyes open.

“Loki,” you whimpered. You felt like a used mess. When a god delivered, he really delivered.

“Come here, Darling,” he said. He maneuvered you until you were tucked against him. He conjured a warm washcloth and cleaned you up. You groaned at the feeling. You couldn’t take anymore. He shushed you and kissed your cheeks. He cleaned you off and then tossed the cloth to the floor.

He pulled you against him and snuggled his face into your neck. “Rest well, Darling. There’s lots more to come.”

You relaxed against him instantly. As if he commanded that too. Perhaps he did. You didn’t care. You snuggled into the furnace of his body. His heat enveloped you. He raised a blanket over the two of you and you were out like a light.

Masterlist | Chapter 8 | Chapter 10

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Loki Files #Loki x Black!reader #Loki x Black reader #Loki x Fem!reader #Loki x Fem reader #Loki x reader #x reader #x Black reader #Loki x you #Loki imagine #Loki fanfic #Loki fan fic #Loki fanfiction #Loki fan fiction #Loki smut #Marvel smut

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bearw-me · 7 months ago

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Could you do a Loona x Monster Hunter Reader? (Think like Supernatural type Hunter of demons and such) that's enemies to lovers?

No problem if you can't! Hope something good happens to you today :)

ty for blessing me anon 🫶 i hope something good happens to you too!

𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞 — 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐚

𐐒 includes : loona x monsterhunter!reader 𐐒 cw : fluff, mentions of killing/blood/guns, angst, enemies to lovers, slow burn 𐐒 summary : stories of werewolves and vampires were just legends to most folk these days, but you knew better than to think myths were just scary stories told to children. And one night, you finally encounter an infamous Hell Hound and her grimoire. 𐐒 word count : 1.2 k 𐐒 note : whew, longest post i made and i tried to shorten it! (lowkey feels like a part two is needed. . .)

You bit at your nails in thought, the old parchment papers scattered across the desk in front of you. Images of ancient evils and eldritch horrors documented by generations of hunters, accumulated throughout the centuries . . . and now it all came down to you.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat, the creak of the antique wood shuddering under your weight.

With calculated precision, your eyes scanned the torn pages for information. Darting across the scribbled madness of ink and water damage.

Wolves standing on their hind legs, ripping the flesh from livestock, horned creatures of the night jumping through candlelight, their red skin unnatural for this world.

Sounds. . . familiar.

Old wives tales from a time where witches burned at the stake, now resurfacing into the modern era.

But why was this all happening now?

"Who cares," you mumbled, arguing with your own thoughts. You righted yourself on your chair, the wood screaming in agony once more.

All that mattered is that it stopped, whatever this- epidemic of hell spawn involved. It had to be dealt with.

You had to deal with it.

Weren't much people nowadays who dealt with supernatural enemies. . . creatures of legend. . . and lets face it- the boogeyman.

You had tracked down the demon activity to a region along the west coast. Under the darkness of night, you kept on the trail. Showing up on peoples doorsteps, cloaked in shadows with a revolver tucked behind your back, asking the innocent people of the town what they knew. . . and what exactly they had seen.

Most people had the same story no matter how many times they fumbled over their words "trying not to sound crazy," begging you to hear them out.

They all described the same thing to you:

A wolf, white and grey and larger than any man, appearing down alleyways and skulking in the night. Sometimes they described a tiny horned man with red skin and a spiked tail. Referring them as omen's of bad things to come.

You thanked them all; the ones who would talk to you anyway, and picked up your work the following day.

This is what you knew:

Every attack was on someone who had done something particularly questionable in their life, sometimes affecting the family or their loved ones in the process.

The process was scouted first, which is why the Lycan or Demon were spotted before the 'accidents' happened.

Then, they would leave and do it all over again.

You ran your fingers through your hair, glancing out the window of your room, watching for a few moments as the daylight began to lose its luster.

Night would come again, and you'd hunt them down before things got worse and someone innocent got hurt.

It was that very night that you first encountered her.

You had heard whispers of white flashes of fur peeking through windows, the sounds of dogs barking and being silenced in fear of something stalking through the night.

The unease in the neighborhood was palpable, but like the first demon you had killed, you promised to those who came before you that you'd protect people from things like this.

That's when you had heard a clattering in the back alley, a muttered hiss accompanying the sound.

You stuck to the shadows, watching to see what would emerge from the other side of the cobbled back lane.

At first, the patch of fur shuffled, hissing again as it dug threw the spilt trashcan. Then, like a slideshow of revelation, the monster stood, rising up inch by inch until it reached its full height, its bones crunching from the movement.

You gasped, realizing in horror as its ears perked up, picking you right out of your hiding spot.

"Who's there!?" She called out, a voice so clear you remained speechless.

In no texts. No tomes or documented encounters. . . had they ever mentioned they were capable of speaking.

You stepped out into the light, your eyes adjusting to the new sensation and watching as the shadowy figure seemed to cower at the sight of you.

"Fuck," it whispered.

Before you could get a word out, she bounded from the alley towards you, the flashes of silver fangs forever engrained into your minds eye.

You had seen her three times in the last month, sometimes accompanied by the Imp (as you suspected the creature was).

She would take the stand against you, her body slithering protectively to fend you off.

A white wolf, marred with dark grey, almost black markings within her fur. Eyes as red as the devils and long silvery hair. More interesting yet, she wore clothes. Curious, you thought to yourself as you fired three bullets of silver at her in warning.

"Lycan!" You called out, the automatic gun in your hand pointed towards the wall she had ducked under her "You're a beautiful creature," you called out honestly, almost pained to have to stand between the beasts path of destruction. . . but it could be no more. No more killing.

"Lycan?" you heard her respond.

She was quiet for a long moment before her voice came back to you with venom. "I've never seen a fucking demon hunter on Earth. What are you? Some kind of modern-day-van-fucking-helsing? Aren't you all supposed to be dead?!"

She jumped out from behind the wall, taking aim with her own gun, firing a round at you this time.

You took cover all too late, laughing at her words and wincing at the sharp pain that suddenly bloomed across the skin of your shoulder.

"What kind of fucking demon hunter uses an automatic rifle!?" She growled out.

"Modern times call for modern weapons, sweetheart!"

"Fuck YOU!"

You ducked your head, laughing as another full magazine shot off just above your head.

"You've got a bad mouth hell hound," you figured, standing up and taking aim at her.

Down the sight of the guns barrel, your eyes widened, watching as she waved her hand, summoning a portal right in front of your eyes. A dark book laid between her fingers.

You sucked a cold breath in, finger hovering over the trigger.

The hell hound glanced back at you.

Her face was full of worry, scrunched up and barring her teeth like an animal cornered in the woods. Her soft white fur shining against the red light spilling from the portal behind her.

Without another second passing, she stepped through the portal, disappearing into thin air.

"God dammit," you sighed with defeat.

And this time, something was off. . .

It was easy enough for you to follow them now.

Follow her.

But something about this night made your stomach churn with unease.

You heard cries into the night, a shadow, something darker than the shadows slithered and lingered like fog along the floor. Kicking it up like smoke, you walked toward the sound of gentle sobs, unable to pinpoint the exact sound in a forest so dense.

"Lycan!" You whispered wearily, eyes darting back and forth between the black bodies of the woods surrounding you.

Then you heard it:

"Dad," she cried, a tiny bark echoing through the trees "someone help me," she begged, a choked sound.

The shadow on the floor shifted, humming almost angrily before a scream rang out. The shriek shattered your ear drums.

And in a blink, the shadow disappeared, receding like the tide and unveiling the limp body of the white wolf.

Your body reacted immediately, pointing your weapon down at her and stopping the moment you caught the glint of tears in her closed eyes.

Who knows what it was. . . maybe a spell the Hell Hound had placed on you, or your genuine sadness as you laid witness to the innocent creature you really saw her for.

A young wolf, unconscious and calling for help not a moment earlier. Attacked by whatever created that thick smog.

Whatever battle you had in your head, you tucked your gun into its holster, crouching down and scooping her into your arms, ignoring all the wounds she had undertaken and bringing her to safety.

That night, against everything you believed in, you carried her home, lifting her weak body with a tenderness you didn't know you possessed.

#helluva boss x you #helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss loona #helluva loona #loona x reader #loona x gn!reader #loona x you #loona x y/n #enemies to lovers #supernatural themes #reader insert #imagines #oneshot #fic #slow burn #fight #angst with a happy ending

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xiaosonlybeloved · 2 years ago

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~how would they propose to you~

featuring- Childe, Ayato warnings- use of the name 'dearest', fluff , a kiss in Ayato's (giving yall a break before i write the TRUE angst ;P) a/n- yes yes I am writing the zhongli angst but gimme some time for that, ill be posting that uh in march end sometime.

masterlist

CHILDE

-the type to book an entire high-end restaurant -he spares no expense on the atmosphere of the date where he's gonna propose -the dim yellow lighting, tablecloths, candelabras, every possible type of dish you'd love, all your favorite desserts, everything (u can tell i love those kinda dates) -by the time you arrive at the restaurant, Childe is already waiting there for you with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. To say he looks gorgeous in his expensive suit is a freaking understatement. -he'd charmingly give you the bouquet, before proposing old style, the way royals did it and all- he'd go down on one knee, take out a small box from his front pocket which contains the most beautiful and elegent ring you could ever hope to receive from anyone -he want to make sure he isnt outshone by anyone else in your life -he wouldn't go into a long speech or smth, but he would clearly express the utter love and adoration he held for you before asking you to marry him, hope and uncertainty evident in his gaze. This man has a way with words I tell you -how the hell could you not accept -after that he's the happiest man alive as you two share your first dinner as an engaged couple

AYATO

-you know how pretty Chinju forest is at night, right? with all the glowing plants and stuff -well his would be a night date. firstly Ayato would make sure that every monster camp that could possibly disturb their date was sent into oblivion -then with Thoma's help, he'd find this cozy little grove of trees covered in those luminescent plants -he'd set it up like a small picnic/resting spot, with blankets and LOTS of cushions and pillows and delish food and whatnot -it would be the perfect spot to just bask in each other's presence -he'd obviously dress up to his best that night, and he'd escort you all the way to his special place to ensure your safety - as the night goes on, the plants around lighting up a light blue and the stars filling the sky and the glowbugs all around, as you both simply relish each other's warmth and presence, he suddenly turns to you -taking each of your hands in his, he stares into your eyes for a few moments before quietly speaking up, expressing how much he loves you, how you're the brightest light in his life and other romantic mushy stuff -it's not too long tho, and in the end he says, "So, my dearest, would you do me the honors of marrying me?" -as he says that, his hands leave yours to open a small ring box that was resting in his pocket till now. There is doubt in his eyes, that perhaps you'll refuse, but also hope that you'll accept -after you get over your shock, you give him a bright smile and ask him how could you possibly not accept his proposal. -with a smile that matches yours' brightness, he slips the ring onto your ring finger before cupping each of your cheeks with his hands and pressing a soft kiss onto your lips.

whew i just keep disappearing dont I? likes comments and reblogs are always appreciated! (not me writing this literally at midnight) Anyways I'm planning to write a Childe x reader enemies to lovers skater smau, what are your opinions? also omg help me im dying bc of my final exams i swear-

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breserker · 8 months ago

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which alternate universe would you drop tserith in? personally, i think i'd go for atla! i have a need to see a katara adjacent tseng LOL

omg well to your point, i dont' know near enough about atla as i should but under the assumption that the world can be endlessly expanded upon i'd love a water bender tseng not of the northern tribe but say, some marshland/seashore type tribe. lsiten i just got out of the bath so i had some good good no-screen time to think about this and like. say he's really skilled at separating water from salt, or water from its impurities one might say (seashore/marshland water goop) which sounds really useful and also if you attribute that to bloodbending or separating water from the impurity of the whole body, that'll get gruesome fast (shoutout to that one mermaid movie where an 11yo girl just ripped a dude in half by controlling the water in his body. made for kids. GOD that movie got kids like no other)

so i am. horrifically, a funny little guy lover. almost immediately when i get my hands on a new ship i throw them in the "what digimon/pokemon/etc would they have!!!" machine and i've already done that with tserith for sure. ironically i remember less of the digimon one than the pokemon one but tseng had a qilinmon and aeris's would eventually evolve into smth like ancientkazemon. pokemon i developed with my dear friend @bbunbbi and aeris had brionne (gift from ifalna), floette, hattern (hated morgrem), and tseng had dragonair (childhood poke from wutai), seviper, and morgrem (shinra-appointed). morgrem had a huge character arc and brionne died with aeris. very sad! and god damn it while i was in the bath i was like. yeah give them medabots fuck it. that didn't get very far but i can say that tseng's medabot would work similar to snake man from mega man 3.

i don't think that's entirely in the spirit of this ask though since all of those would still take place ~in ff7/midgar~ and not like, true alternate universe. my actual answer is so corny. Plop them in anywhere from the early 19th to the early 20th century and my ass is Game. gothic regencies to wwi espionage sounds like such a goddamn romp and i will eat that shit up.

as a fun fact though the book i thought i was gonna write last year before vel chokeslammed me into the asphalt was one of those "fanfic-jump-to-actual-book" ideas where like. in a fantasy world that is starting to see magic-adjacent things recede from the world there's a monster prince arranged marriage romance going on between the last naga prince and a descendant of the now-gone(?) dryads. you know, "not tserith". but then vel, that fucker, fucking??? exploded out of thin air in late april last year and the rest is history whoops. i still want to write the naga prince book someday but whew.

#askanswer #tserith

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leareadsheresy · 9 months ago

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What is the Horus Heresy as a fictional construct (to me) and why is it interesting (to me)?

It's a series of ads for toy soldiers that the toy soldier manufacturer figured out how to monetize, so people will pay to be advertised to. Whew, that was easy. That sounds like a blithe dismissal but actually it's a foundational assumption we need to establish so we can move past it. Assume for the rest of this essay that no matter what else I'm typing, I never forget that the Horus Heresy is first and foremost monetized advertising for a commercial product, and that I hate myself at least a little bit for finding it stimulating.

Disclaimer over. Anyway, I'm writing this at least in part because I know there's at least one person reading this Tumblr who doesn't know anything about the Horus Heresy. I thought maybe I could expand that into something worth writing (and maybe even worth reading!). This is really long so I'm putting it behind a cut.

"The Horus Heresy" is a fictional period of history in the setting of the Games Workshop tabletop-war-game-slash-multimedia-empire Warhammer 40,000, taking place about ten thousand years prior to the "present" of the setting, during the founding of the Imperium, the human faction and arguable protagonists (or at least best-seller) of the property. The Heresy is therefore sometimes referred to as Warhammer 30k. (It's also occasionally called HH, but I won't be using that abbreviation; you can probably guess why.) It is the story of a nine year civil war that occurred when Horus, then the favored "son" of the Emperor of Mankind, recently appointed Warmaster of the (at the time) eighteen Space Marine Legions, turned traitor and lead half of the Imperium's armies against the other half, trashing the nascent Imperium and dooming it to a ten thousand year slide into stagnation and decay that resulted in the current 40k setting. Before the Heresy there was a two century period in the setting called the Great Crusade, in which the Emperor of Mankind (who'd recently conquered and unified Earth just in time for hyperspace storms to clear up, enabling large-scale FTL travel in the Milky Way for the first time in five thousand years) struck out into space with a unified Earth's armies to conquer the galaxy for humanity (before anybody else could take advantage of the suddenly-available-again FTL and do it first), and after the Heresy is an undefined period called the Scouring in which the "victorious" loyalist clean up the remains of the traitors and chase them into exile. So it's a bounded period, nine years between the Great Crusade and the Scouring, with a known narrative and timeline of events and battles, beginning just before the Istvaan III Atrocity and ending with the duel between the Emperor and Horus at the end of the Siege of Terra that left Horus dead and the Emperor an invalid.

As "the founding myth of Warhammer 40,000," Games Workshop has been talking about the Horus Heresy since pretty much 40k has been around, and it has its shape because that shape is useful to a company whose business model is spending huge amounts of money on very durable stainless steel injection moulds it can then operate pretty much indefinitely to sell small amounts of cheap plastic at tremendous markup. Specifically, Warhammer 40,000 is a game about science fiction versions of knights, soldiers, orks, elves, skeletons, demons, and monsters all fighting each other, and each of those armies has different model kits and needs a different set of expensive moulds, but in a civil war game, both sides can use the same models manufactured with the same moulds. In 1988, just a year after publishing the first edition of 40k, GW launched the first edition of Adeptus Titanicus, a game set during the Heresy in which both sides fought with the same giant robots, because GW wanted to do a giant robot game but it would have been expensive to do a 40k-era game where they'd have needed to sculpt and manufacture a different set of giant robots for each faction. In Adeptus Titanicus, both sides played with the same robots and players would differentiate faction with color schemes.

More recently than that, the Heresy as a fictional construct acquired an aesthetic distinct from normal 40k. Games Workshop has, in the past, been structured oddly, with the main studio being treated separately from a secondary studio called ForgeWorld who manufactured more niche models, mainly from resin, a modeling material that can (in theory and when everything is working) hold more and crisper detail than plastic. ForgeWorld has now been folded into Games Workshop proper, but in the past it was, though still profit-driven, headed by artists and sculptors more so than the main studio, and was strongly influenced by military modelers. I've seen it jokingly described as "That group of Games Workshop sculptors who split off because they wanted to do a bunch of historically inspired sci-fi tanks." When ForgeWorld spun the Horus Heresy off into its own variant of (at the time) 40k 6th edition in 2012, with its own dedicated sets of expensive resin models, those models were sculpted (and painted, in promotional materials) in styles inspired by World War I and World War II historical wargaming, in contrast to the more gonzo heavy-metal-airbrushed-on-the-side-of-a-van style of 40k.

In short, the Horus Heresy is a pseudo-history, a nine-year conflict in which the broad course of events was largely known from the start, presented with the aesthetics of historical recreation. Tonally, it's "more serious" than 40k, less gonzo and more elegiac. It is a fictional construct that attempts to evoke the momentousness of "real" war, presented by fictional historians. The Horus Heresy 1st edition game books are written as pastiches of Osprey Publishing military history books, complete with color plates of the uniforms and heraldry of the various forces who participated in it, written in the style of historical documentaries walking the reader through various specific military campaigns during the nine years of the larger war.

The Horus Heresy is also an attempt at Milton's Paradise Lost; I don't really engage with it on that level but I want to mention it. Space Marines are sometimes called the Emperor's Angels in 40k and it's the story of how Lucifer fell and took a third of the host of angels with him. In fact, it's been Paradise Lost for a lot longer than it's been Osprey military history; it arguably started as Milton in 1987 and only became Osprey pastiche in 2012. But I engage with it as Osprey pastiche first.

So why is a po-faced pseudo-historical spinoff of gonzo space fantasy, presented in muted colors with everyone playing variations on the same two or three armies, interesting?

For that, first I'm going to have to talk about superheroes and pirates.

Superhero comics go on forever. There are stories where Spider-Man gets old, but in mainline Spider-Man comics, he does not (unless the issue is about a mad scientist hitting him with an aging ray or something). He's aged a bit between his introduction in 1962 from a highschooler to his current vaguely twentysomething-to-thirtysomething incarnation, but from here on out he's doomed to vascillate between twentysomething to thirtysomething and back again according to the needs of the current arc, like Green Lantern Hal Jordan gaining grey hair at his temples to indicate that he's getting old, only for it to later be revealed that he was going grey early because of an alien parasite, which, once it was expelled, caused all his hair to turn brown again. Until the death of Marvel and DC as comic book publishers, these characters will proceed through an eternal adulthood that never approaches old age. Because Spider-Man stories shy away from openly acknowledging that Peter Parker has aged only ten to twenty years during the 62 year period between 1962 to 2024, stories about him tend to be set in an indefinite now designed to last forever, and even if a particular story did something to set itself in a specific time and place, we understand when it gets referenced thirty years later in real time as something that only happened five years ago in comics time, we the reader are supposed to interpret it through a filter of "Okay something like that happened, but not literally tied to the historical events of thirty years ago, because Peter's not that old." He did not meet John Belushi on the set of Saturday Night Live, because now, John Belushi died before Peter Parker was born, never mind the cover of the comic literally having Spider-Man and John Belushi on it. In the flashbacks to the events of that issue decades later, it'll be some other, more recent SNL performer that he met instead. (They used Chris Farley, although that would have to be changed again if they ever did more flashbacks now.)

The Golden Age of Piracy was a seventy year period, shaped by material circumstances that incentivized plunder of naval trade, circumstances that arose, changed, and ultimately ended. Stories about pirates are implicitly or explicitly dependent on those historical circumstances, and have trouble existing without them. Unlike the indefinite adulthood of a superhero, the Golden Age of Piracy is not an indefinite now that can last forever. I first noticed this while working in tabletop roleplaying setting design, while learning from some of the many, many failures of the first edition of a tabletop roleplaying game called 7th Sea. 7th Sea was supposed to be a game about playing pirates having adventures on the high seas, but the setting and history had not been written to highlight any of the factors that incentivized real piracy during the real Golden Age of Piracy. There was only one continent, and there was nothing like the triangle trade or mass quantities of colonial plunder being shipped back to imperial seats of power, or a recent major naval war that left huge quantities of trained sailors unemployed, or a geopolitical system that left nations plausibly and currently ill-equipped to effectively police their sea-lanes. Looking at the setting it was difficult to understand what all these pirates were plundering, or who they were plundering it from, or why. And you can certainly say "The pirates are plundering treasure and they're doing it because that's the premise of the game," but a well-written setting in an interactive medium like tabletop roleplaying games or fictional war games is deliberately constructed to support and make compelling the conflicts it pitches.

So for starters, mostly because of my own examination of the failures of 7th Sea, I find a limited-duration, bounded-context setting like the Horus Heresy, with a beginning, middle, and end interesting. And it's not that I dislike "eternal now" contexts (I'm enough of a nerd to know about both the Hal Jordan grey hair thing and Spider-Man and the Not Ready for Prime Time Players), but eternal nows have so much become the standard in pop fiction that I find a bounded context refreshing, especially if it makes use of the advantages it affords. To keep audiences interested in an eternal now, every new twist and turn of the plot has to be presented on some level as the most important thing that has happened yet, with the previous twists and turns -- regardless of having been presented in their time as the most important things that had happened yet when they were new -- fading into an eternal plot churn, and this becomes difficult to maintain as a property continues over the decades. In a bounded context like a pseudo-historical war or the biography of a character whose birth and death are known from the start, the eternal plot churn is less inevitable.

Second, I like to watch artists play with compatible variations on a theme, and I like to navigate fictional semantic systems where a story imbues novel symbols with meaning, and for that reason I fuckin' love Heresy-era Space Marine armor. (You may want to skip the next paragraph.)

Okay so check this out. During the early years of the Great Crusade, Space Marines mostly used what's called Mark II "Crusade" armor, an early armor characterized by banded segments around the legs, visible power cabling, and a grilled helmet with a single visor instead of separate eye slits. Over the course of the Great Crusade, a specific field modification of Crusade armor that incorporated heavier armor along the front plates of the chest and legs and a heavier grill on the helmet became so popular that it became standardized as Mark III "Iron" armor -- Iron armor was a side-grade rather than an upgrade, less maneuverable but more effective in heavy fighting in confined spaces like boarding assaults. Later, the Imperial suppliers developed and began distributing the more high-tech-looking Mark IV "Maximus" armor and continued development and field testing of what was, at the time, meant to be designated Mark V armor (as yet nameless). Horus as the Warmaster during the buildup to the Heresy diverted most shipments of new, better Maximus armor to the Legions he expected to side with him, giving them a slight technological and logistical advantage. After the fighting of the Heresy broke out, supply lines were fractured and the Space Marine legions were all forced to cobble together makeshift armor from spare parts and whatever they could reliably manufacture with limited resources, resulting in the creation of what would later be designated Mark V "Heresy" armor in non-production (ad hoc designs using any spare parts that were available) and production (a standardized design using plentiful spare parts and locally manufactured replacements that had been found easy to produce under most circumstances) models, while the armor originally intended to be released as Mark V was re-numbered to Mark VI and named "Corvus" armor after the accomplishments of a specific loyalist general, and also because its helmet looks like a beak. (But even before its distribution to the loyalists, the traitors had stolen the designs and were manufacturing them to distribute among their own side.) Finally, during the Siege of Terra, loyalists on Terra were issued a brand new Mark VII "Aquilla" armor design. That's six armor designs -- Crusade, Iron, Maximus, Heresy, Corvus, and Aquilla (that's a different set of links, BTW) -- all visually distinct but compatible with each other, and all imbued with meaning by the circumstances of their manufacture and distribution (to say nothing of variations like Mantilla-pattern facial grills or Anvilus backpacks). So, for example, Crusade-era Raven Guard would mostly have stuck to Crusade armor instead of switching to Iron because they're all about stealth and maneuvers instead of close-quarters brutality, meaning once the Heresy broke out they'd mostly have old Crusade armor in reserve, and they were the first Legion to be given Corvus armor when that was available… so if I model a Raven Guard character in Iron armor with Heresy gauntlets, that's imbued with meaning, because it's a soldier from the stealthy chapter wearing the most brutal and least stealthy armor mark with armored gauntlets that are makeshift and easy to repair, i.e. he is probably big and angry and likes to punch things above and beyond other space marines, and in contrast to the culture of his Legion.

I typed that awful paragraph nearly off the top of my head; I didn't need to look up any of it except for what Anvilus backpacks are called. I find it semantically satisfying to engage with Horus Heresy model design. Also physically satisfying, because all of these armor marks are little toys I can stick together like Legos and then paint up to look cool. (Or will be, once GW puts out more upgraded kits; currently Crusade is unavailable, Maximus and Aquilla are older kits and too short, and Heresy is older and a bit too short and also only available in expensive resin; they seem to be doing one updated armor mark per year.) Current 40k models are much more varied across all the different 40k armies, but nothing there is as artistically or semantically as interesting to me within a single army as 30k space marines are.

Third… I don't want to say I love trash. I'm honestly not the sort of person to watch and laugh at bad movies because they're bad. But I am interested in observing the success or failure of execution on a promising concept. 7th Sea is, at least, instructive, and its failings informed my work on Exalted. I feel like I have made a good case here for why the Horus Heresy has the potential to be very cool. A lot of visual artists have put a lot of work into appealing art for it, illustrations and modeling and painting; and its bounded pseudo-historical context is unusual and has specific strengths that can make it an interesting change of pace from the forever-now context of most pop storytelling. And yet, in discussion of the Horus Heresy novel series, what often comes up is how nobody, under any circumstances, should read all of the books, because there are 64+ of them and a lot of them are awful. And to some extent this is because some of them are extruded ad copy barely disguised as prose but in other cases they're bad because specific authors with more enthusiasm than skill staked out specific bits of the Heresy as their territory and really enjoyed writing the hell out those corners without being, you know, good at it. I find looking at that sort of thing interesting like a pirate game with a setting where there's no reason for pirates to pirate. The gap between potential and execution is a learning tool.

I don't really have a conclusion paragraph here. These are my current thoughts on what the Horus Heresy is to me and why it interests me. (Currently reading Flight of the Eisenstein, and by "reading Flight of the Eisenstein" I mean "I've gotten back into Elden Ring.")

#horus heresy #warhammer 30k #lea reads heresy

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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Letters in Your Last Name - Chapter 33

A/N: This chapter was actually inspired by an old Tumblr post that went around back in the day. Something like: 'find someone who will fuck you in the laundry room while waiting for the timer to go off on your kid's Dino chicken nuggets.' And I still think about that like 13 years later, so it inspired this chapter 🤣

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, medical talk/hospital visit, lil angsty.

The Fiala children are driving me up the damn wall today.

Nothing seems to satisfy them.

At 5 and barely 2, the age difference is both a blessing and a curse.

Luca is currently running around, chasing his sister as she toddles as fast as she can away from him. Lacey is shrieking in happiness, but the noise is getting to the right level that makes my brain pound between my temples. I glance at the clock, scowling when I see it is past noon and my husband should definitely be back from morning skate by now. From the moment both kids got up this morning, Kevin and I knew it was going to be a day. When you’re a parent, you develop a sense for these types of things. Part of me is slightly resentful that he got to leave and I had to stay with the monsters.

The oven beeps as Luca grabs his little sister, causing her to topple over and land with her face skidding into the carpet. I cringe, pausing for a moment to see what the reaction is going to be. Lacey lifts her face and a slight, evil cackle comes from her lips. Whew. Disaster averted. She hops to her feet as quick as she can and off they go again.

I grab the sheet pan and throw the Tyson chicken nuggets on there, then open the oven door to pop them in. Lacey will only eat four, but Luca has been going through a growth spurt, so I add in a few extra in case he needs it. Whatever they don’t eat, I’ll throw onto my salad. Kevin is likely eating at the rink since it is a game day.

Lacey shrieks when my back is turned to both kids. It's not a good one, so I whip around after shutting the oven and find my oldest with a fist full of his sister’s hair.

“Excuse me.” I stare him down. “No. Let go.”

“She tried to bite me!” He insists, still gripping her hair.

“Luca, let go.” My voice is more stern as Lacey’s shrieks continue to grow. I move to walk around the island causing Luca to releases his grip. Lacey reaches forward and sinks her toddler teeth into her brother’s forearm. Luca screams and pulls away from her. “Of course this is happening without your dad here.” I mutter under my breath as I get between them. They take in the distressed look on my face and both dissolve into body shaking sobs filled with anger, hurt, and rage.

I hear the door before I see my husband. I turn to him, eyes pleading with him to help. He cringes before rushing to scoop Luca up right as he winds up to slap his sister’s face.

“Enough.” Kevin’s voice is calm as I grab Lacey who is screaming at a decibel I didn’t think human beings could get to. I close my eyes, rocking her against my chest as Kevin continues to speak to Luca. “Not okay.”

“She-“

“No.” Kevin cuts him off. “Take a deep breath.” He sucks one in as well with our son, then they push it out together. Large tears fall from Luca’s eyes as Lacey breathes heavily in my arms.

Become a parent they said. It will be rewarding they said.

“When we get upset, we need to take a break, not hurt people.” Kevin’s voice is gentle as he sets Luca back on the ground. Our son pouts at his dad. “Entschuldige dich bei deiner Schwester.” He encourages him to apologize to Lacey.

“Tut mir leid.” Luca mutters his apology. Kevin nods his head in approval. “She bit me.” Luca blurts, switching back to English, looking at me for support.

“I understand that. She was wrong as well. But you are older and know better.” Luca stares at Kevin, brown eyes shining with tears. “Let’s go take that break.” Kevin pulls Luca into his chest and rubs at his back. Our eyes meet as Lacey lays motionless in my arms, coming down from her tantrum and instantly being overcome with tiredness. “Go upstairs to your room. Let us know when you are ready.” Luca nods and heads to the stairs, slowly going up them until we hear the soft click of his door.

“I know it looked like I didn’t have that under control, but I was putting lunch in the oven.” I don’t know why I am insistent that Kevin knows that, but I want him to. He smiles and nods.

“I know you did, baby.” He looks down at Lacey.

“You need a break too.” I murmur to her, she nods her head at me. “You can stay down here on the couch. No TV, just quiet time.” A few more large drops slip out. I lay her on the couch with her blanket, ignoring the thumb she stuck into her mouth. I can’t fight with her on that right now. One battle at a time.

I release a heavy sigh as I go back to the kitchen, shaking my head.

“It’s been a roller coaster this morning.” I whisper to Kevin when he joins me. He wraps his arms around my back and I bury my face in his chest. I feel the tension seeping from my body as his strong hands rub reassuring circles through my shirt. “They were playing fine until they weren’t.” I shrug my shoulders, glancing at the oven to check on the chicken nuggets.

“Is that timer for lunch?” He asks, noting there is still nine minutes left.

“Yeah. They will probably be happier once they eat.”

“Plenty of time for me to eat.”

“You didn’t eat at the rink?” I ask him, pulling back to look at his face.

“Oh, I did. I’m ready for dessert though.” He begins to walk me backwards, towards the laundry room that is adjacent to the mudroom, next to the pantry.

“What.” A breathy laugh comes from my mouth as he releases one hand from me, opening the door handle and pushing me inside. “Babe?” I ask, giving him a confused look. His tongue licks his bottom lip as his hands come to the button on my jeans. Oh.

“You’re dessert.” He insists. “And I’ve only got 8 and a half minutes, so hop up.” He points to the dryer. My reaction is too slow for Kevin.

“Ohmygod, Kev!” Falls out of my lips as he sets me unceremoniously on the running dryer. “Lacey-"

“She’s already sleeping.” Kevin tells me. “And you need this. Fuck, I need this too.”

My jeans are off and he tugs my panties down as well. My eyes are wide with surprise and hunger. He grabs my leg, tossing it over his shoulder and pushing my other thigh wider. I instinctively thread my fingers though his hair. When his tongue connects with my clit, I’m speechless. My head falls back, my breathing begins to increase, and I lose myself in his skilled movements.

“Mmm.” It drops from my lips involuntarily. I suck in a shaky breath, looking down at him as he sucks me into his mouth. “Babe, I want you inside me.” It’s been a hot minute since I’ve had Kevin filling me. If we only have 8 minutes, I want the best stuff- him- deep, hard and fast.

“Not until you come on my face.” His voice is coated in desire. My grip in his hair tightens and I push his face further into me. His mouth laps and tugs me, convincing my body to surrender to him. It isn’t long before I do exactly what he asked. The dryer shaking adds an edge of delicious vibration to my orgasm. Kevin stands, forcing my lips onto his.

“I needed that.” I confess to him as he grips his dick, ready to slide into me.

“You need this more.” He thrusts gently into me, knowing I’m going to need time to adjust. He’s thick and rigid, causing my walls to convulse on him immediately. He sighs against my lips before his teeth connect with my lower one. “This is my favorite place to be.” His voice comes out like a growl as my fingers dig into his shoulders. He begins to move, the dryer squeaks with the force of his thrusts, but it doesn’t deter us. His arms tighten around me as he feels my body going limp, begging for more, tugging him further inside of me by shuddering around him.

“Oh.” The moan is breathy, impossible to get any gusto to it with how damn good he feels inside of me. It’s a lie though. What’s really happening is I’m losing control and uninhibited moans are building in my throat.

“Shhhhh.” He reminds me, watching my face, knowing I’m so close. My body refuses any movement except leaning into how damn good this feels. His hands shift to grip my ass as he drives deeper, shoving me right off the cliff and into the abyss of orgasm. My mouth opens, no sound comes out, until it does; it’s loud and needy. Kevin catches the tail end of it with his mouth.

My muscles squeeze him tight and I buck my hips into him in the end. That get’s him.

“Yes, baby.” He whimpers as he climaxes inside of me.

His hips shove me up further until he can barely connect with me. He pushes out a quick breath, sliding me back down so he can fill me completely again. Seconds later, our eyes open and he releases me so I can jump off the dryer. His hands immediately come to my bare butt, pulling me into a tight hug. I’m thankful because my legs are wobbling but his strength is more than enough to keep me up. He shoves his face into the crook of my neck as his chest continues to heave. My fingers come to his hair while I turn my face deeper into him so our cheeks touch.

“You’re the only one I want to fuck while waiting for our babies’ chicken nuggets to be done.” I can feel his lips brushing my neck as he talks. I smile against his shoulder, pressing my lips there then nipping with my teeth. When I pull back, his brown eyes are watching me. “The days are long right now.” He reminds me gently. As every day has been since Kevin and I met, I know I’m not alone in this. I’m grateful for his reminder now.

“Next week is going to be tough.” I murmur to him, thinking of his road trip to the Southwestern & Central United States. So many days without him will be heavy for all the Fialas.

“I love you.” He says simply. He knows he can’t change this. He knows it will be difficult for me. But he sees me. And he loves me fiercely for willingly signing up for every part of our life together.

“I love you more.” I tell him, running my finger over his swollen lips.

The oven shrills, Luca yells for Kevin, and we are back to the reality of parenthood.

_ _ _

It’s four in the morning that next week, four games into the five game road trip for the Wild. My hand goes against Lacey’s forehead for the umpteenth time in the last 15 minutes. I woke up to her puking in her bed. She cried for me while sitting in the mess. I had scooped her up quickly, then rinsed her off in the bath. She had been warm when I initial came in, but now she feels hotter some how, even after the children’s Tylenol I forced between her lips. Her little body shakes with forceful chills.

“Mama.” She cries, wanting me to make it better for her.

“I know, sweetie. Try to drink some more water.” I give her the sippy cup from the nightstand. I brought her into our room to distance us a bit from Luca and because I didn’t have the energy to put new sheets on her bed. I know it’s risky, especially with the icky green color of her fluids. I’ve turned on Disney+ for her but she is uninterested. Instead, her eyes seemingly glaze over as she stares at the ceiling, tugging in heavy breaths.

“Lace, drink some water.” I coo to her again. She takes the sippy cup from me and sucks in a few glugs. It instantly comes back up. Her soft wails fill the room, but no tears come from her eyes. I push my hair back from my face as I walk to the bathroom to get another towel. I clean her up again and step back, really looking at my child. Something isn’t right. I watch her a little longer but then doubt fills my mind as she laughs at a scene in the show. She wouldn’t be laughing if she was dehydrated, right? Maybe I’m just really tired. I grab a cool compress from the bathroom before settling back in next to her.

At some point, I drift into a light sleep. When I awaken again, Lacey is asleep next to me. I reach out, brushing her hair from her face and gasp at the intensity of her warmth. I begin to feel panic bubble in my chest, shoving the blankets off her body. She reacts instantly to the coolness with trembles.

“Lace.” I jiggle her a bit, wanting her eyes to open. She does so and smiles at me.

“Daddy?” She asks me, looking over at his pillow.

“He’s at work.” I remind her. She nods like she understands and then reaches for her sippy cup. She sucks down a few sips, this time keeping it down. I breathe a sigh of relief, grabbing the washcloth from the bed to cool it down again. When I return, Lacey is sitting in water.

“Did you spill?” I ask her, grabbing the cup and seeing it still full.

“Ah.” She points to her mouth.

“Here, bubba. Hold this on your head.” I tell her, reaching for my phone. I press Kevin’s name on FaceTime. We have an agreement that when he is out of town, he keeps his ringer on at night. So I’m not surprised when he answers before the second ring.

“Hi.” He says to me. Concern laces his brows together despite his obvious slumber before my call.

“Lacey is sick.” I say, biting my lip.

“What’s going on?” He asks, more alert now.

“She seems to have some kind of stomach thing. But… I’m worried she might be getting dehydrated.”

“Ugh.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “What can I do?”

“Can you look at her?” I ask, turning the camera so it’s on Lacey. She is laying back in Kevin’s pillow motionless, mindlessly starting at the TV. I watch Kevin on the screen as he squints. He reaches over to turn the lamp on, then sits up further in bed.

“Go closer.” He asks me. I oblige and am silent as he looks at her. “I mean, she looks sick, but I can’t see much more than that.”

“Okay.” I sigh, looking away. “Sorry I woke you. I’m just worried. It feels.. not right.”

“If you feel you need to take her in, you should.”

“I don’t know. Every time I panic, she seems to magically get better. What if I bring her in and they think I’m a hypochondriac mom?”

“What if you don’t bring her in?” Kevin presses me. He’s sensing my anxiousness through the phone, digging in a little deeper to see if we can figure out an action plan. I shake my head, leaning back into our headboard.

“I’m going to wait.” I affirm to him. He nods in agreement with me.

“You’re there, hon. You can see better than me.” A large yawn pulls his lips apart and he hisses in a new breath.

“I should let you go.” I shake my head, looking again at the time. He must have just gotten to Chicago a few hours ago. He needs sleep if he is going to play tonight.

“Are you sure?” He asks me, sensing my mood.

I hesitate in responding. I take in the paleness of Lacey’s features as she dozes into sleep. I chomp on my bottom lip, feeling my breathing increase. My reluctancy is clearing and I’m feeling more sure of what I know. My fight or flight is clearly kicking in. Deep in my gut, I know something isn’t right.

“Kev.” I only say his name, then look at him with distress.

“Babe, I trust what you’re feeling. Take her.” Kevin encourages me. “You keep saying this isn’t right. Just go. I’ll call your mom for Luca.”

If I thought I was going to get relief from taking Lacey to the hospital, I was proven wrong instantly. The ER doctors took one look at her and rushed her into an open bed. They started poking and prodding her, checking reflexes and pupils and heart rate. Her temperature is close to 104 and her body shakes with chills as we all watch. They’re asking me question and I respond as much as I can. In one of the tests, the doctor doesn’t like what he sees. They’ve already started her IV which causes Lacey to begin dry vomiting.

“Mrs. Fiala, can you please head back to the waiting room?”

“What?” I ask, surprised that they want me to leave my young child.

“We are concerned for your daughter’s health. We need some space to give her the proper care she needs.” A nurse gently puts a hand on my elbow, easing me back. I am in stunned silence as they pull the curtain around my daughter’s bed.

“But, that’s my baby.” I cry to the nurse with me.

“It’s okay, mom. You’ve done all that you can. Let us take care of her.” She steps back into where Lacey is and I begin to panic. I grab my phone, rushing out of the room and throwing myself outside into the cool, winter night. I’m hyperventilating as I start to flip through my phone to get to my husband.

“Kevin!” I sob into FaceTime when he picks up. He snaps to attention at the desperate tears on my face. “The doctors-“ I cut myself off with a sob. “They think it’s bad. They’re running all these tests on her. Her fever is so high they started her IV before we even got into a room. She is barely responsive of their checks. They won’t even let me be with her right now.”

I’m sitting on the curb by the emergency area, snow soaking into my yoga pants, while I try to suck oxygen into my lungs. I’m sobbing so hard that I’m coughing. Kevin is watching me with wide eyes; he’s never seen me like this. The kids have certainly been sick before when he is out of town, but not like this. Nothing ever like this.

“I need you!” I finally yell at him.

“I’m coming. I’ll figure it out. I’ll drive if I have to.” He is moving around the hotel, throwing things into his overnight bag furiously. “I’ll let you know when I have a plan.” He assures me. “I love you. Go back and wait, baby.” I nod my head as the screen goes black. I go back to the curtain as the doctor is pulling it away.

“Mrs. Fiala, your daughter is severely dehydrated with a fever we need to contain as quickly as possible. She is taking the fluids a little better now, but she needs a higher level of care than we can provide her here. We are going to move her to the pediatric ICU. It’s precautionary but necessary. We need your approval to move her and begin treatment of her fever with a more intense reliever.”

“Yes. Please.” He nods and gives my arm a gentle pat.

“She will be in excellent hands upstairs.” I find myself nodding in agreement as he walks away, beginning the movement of my daughter.

“Mama.” I hear Lacey call for me. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and go to her, soothing her worry.

“I’m here, baby. Mama’s here.” My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out, looking at Kevin’s words.

Craig’s plane is in Chicago. He’s letting me use it. I’m on my way to you. It’s a simple text, but the relief pours through my body knowing Kevin is on his way. Luckily, the team is at the end of their road trip in Chicago and it’s a quick flight back to Minneapolis. Even luckier for us is the generosity of Wild Owner Craig Leopold.

Lacey is asleep when Kevin arrives.

“Dad’s here.” Lacey’s nurse, Kim, calls to me. Kevin appears and she shuts the door after he steps in. Because of Kevin’s popularity, they are taking precautions to make sure we have the privacy we deserve. Wild fan are generally respectful, but I’m appreciative of the hospital’s dedication to keeping our stay quiet.

“Hi. How are you? How is she?” He asks, enveloping me in his arms. I immediately start to cry into his chest, overwhelmed with the day and relief that he’s here with me. When I feel like I’ve taken enough of the pressure off, I pull back. Kevin wipes at my tears before I can.

“Better. Her fever is slowly coming down. They’ve given her two bags of fluids, but expect her to have a couple more before she can be discharged.”

“Wow. She looks tiny in that bed.” Kevin murmurs, taking my hand and leading me back to my chair. I sit in it while Kevin plops onto the bed next to Lacey. He reaches for her little hand, placing two of his fingers in her grip. She doesn’t stir from her sleep and Kevin frowns deeper. “Love you baby.” He whispers to her, kissing her forehead. His other hand smoothes her hair back from her delicate cheeks. “Wow, this sucks.” Kevin clears his throat with a cough. I can tell he is feeling emotional as he looks at our sick baby.

“Not great.” I confirm, placing a hand on his thigh.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He shakes his head.

“You are now.”

“Feel like I let you down.” His lips pull into a tight, disgruntled line. I shake my head no.

“You can’t plan for babies getting sick.” I remind him.

When we arrive back home late that night, we relieve my mom of watching Luca. She insists he was an angel, not surprising as that’s what she always says. I thank her for her help as Kevin carries Lacey to the couch. She looks so small and her eyes are lowered in utter exhaustion. I frown deeply, feeling the tears poking at my eyes. I walk with my mom to the door and give her a hug.

“Seriously, thank you.” I say again, wanting her to know how much I appreciated her.

“Of course. You did the right thing. Always trust your gut.” She reminds me. “You know your child. You know what’s normal and what isn’t. Lacey is okay because you trusted that feeling.” I nod my head in appreciation then watch as she walks to her car and drives off. I release a heavy sigh, allowing my shoulders to return to a natural position. My muscles are tight and cramped. I rotate my neck from side to side to gain some more flexibility.

I move into the living room, taking in the sight of our sick daughter cuddling into Kevin’s chest. She looks much better than earlier. Flush has returned to her cheeks; her skin is full of color and plumpness that it lacked this morning. I take a seat next to Kevin on the couch, resting my forehead against his bicep. He’s still in his suit jacket, not willing to leave the hospital even to change. I feel the pressure of his lips on my head.

“Why don’t you go to sleep? I’ve got her.” I pull back, feeling the exhaustion begin to consume me. I look down at Lacey, watching intently as she draws breath evenly. Kevin senses my hesitation to leave. “Safest place in the world for her is right here with me.” He insists.

“I know, but I want to be with you.” I say to him. A soft smile tugs his lips up. He repositions Lacey into the crook of his other arm, grabbing a few couch pillows to support her weight.

“Come here, mama.” He murmurs. I place my cheek on the other side of his chest, reaching out for Lacey’s face to brush a few strands of matted hair from her skin. She twitches in her sleep so I pull back, drinking in the sight of her instead.

“When I gave her to the doctors, they were so concerned. I panicked. I’m sorry.” I shake my head at him. “You probably could have stayed in Chicago.”

“No. I couldn’t. I was already worried and then you called me again, I knew you were scared. I don’t give a shit about the game, babe. I had to come home.” I nod my head against him.

It isn’t long before my eyelids close. Kevin lets me sleep as long as possible before he awakens me.

“Sam... baby.” He calls gently. I shift off of him, looking down at Lacey who is still sleeping. She looks even better than when I drifted off. “Let’s go to bed.”

“She needs to be with us.”

“She will be.” He acknowledges as I stand. The three of us slowly make our way into the master bedroom, but not before I stop to check on Luca. He’s peaceful, unaware of the distress of the day.

Kevin has set Lacey in the middle of our bed. The sheets smell clean and I know my mom was doing laundry while she was here. Grateful doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. I go to our closet with Kevin and we undress in silence. I pull on my comfiest pajamas before following him back to bed. Lacey has stretched out across his side. He gathers her back into his chest and settles into our mattress with her. His lips brush her forehead sweetly. She stirs at the feeling of his stubble on her nose. Her little hand reaches up for his face, resting on his cheek before falling to his neck.

“Her fever has stayed away.” Kevin tells me. “She feels normal.” I sigh in relief as I slide closer to them. I place my lips on the back of our daughter’s head. Kevin’s eyes find mine and it feels like an entire conversation wordlessly passes between us.

“Thank you.” I whisper to him.

“Call me anytime you need me. I’ll get to you as fast as I can.”

“I know.”

Of all the things in the world I'm sure of, Kevin’s love for us is at the top.

#letters in your last name au #Sam x kevin fiala #Kevin Fiala Fic #los angeles kings #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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prince-liest · 8 months ago

Note

hi! I always get super excited about fandom OCs, so it's been such a treat to hear about Tzafael! I worked a little on a design for them (lmk if you're ok with me posting it) but a lot of questions came up:

this is gonna sound really vague, but what's their vibe? I'm getting "pretends to be a gentleman but will ABSOLUTELY fish for compliments and randomly fuck with people cause of the power play" but I could be totally off. does he ever snap at people/hurt them if they're not polite? are they super condescending like some of the other angels or is he more like adam and kind of,,, uhh openly a dick? or are they more of a crowley type (kind of gooey inside and mostly left heaven because it was too bureaucratic and constricting)? do they burst into hell buildings and just incite chaos? again I know this is super vague but like ,,, basically I need a dialogue snippet to know what they're like lol

what's their accent? do they have special vocal quirks/tics? special catchphrases or words they use a lot?

do they have any real friends in hell (not just contracts)? do they miss anyone from heaven?

did they like being an exorcist?

hobbies?

what are the implications of the magpie/eyeball motifs? do they have a transcendent sense of sight? are they overstimulated or even haunted by the fact that they have to see so much all the time? do they have any bird habits (preening is a must lol but anything else?)? do they have a nictitating membrane and freak people out by blinking sideways with all of their eyes?

is their magpie form like a really scary demon form or are they just like. a normal bird. (that's way funnier imo)

I'm sorry but,,, I'm such a sucker for angst. where's his soft spot? how does he react to having it poked? does he lash out like a panicked animal or break down and try to hide?

do they have sharp teeth? I've seen that in other art of them but since they're not technically fallen I'm thinking of just doing fangs

how would he react to seeing a child (is he good with children? does he terrify/terrorize them?)?

what does "very good grip strength" imply???

whew, sorry for that monster of an ask! you said you liked talking about them so I just vomited everything that came to mind while I was drawing him, but definitely don't answer anything you don't find interesting!

PLEASE DO NOT APOLOGIZE YOU HAVE MADE MY EVENING. Both by offering me a delightful plethora of questions to answer about Tzafael, and also by drawing them aaaaaaaah- I would absolutely love to see you post it!! <3

Long post incoming!!

Their vibe: They are still an angel, and subscribe to morals that involve seeing themselves as a relatively good person - kind of like Lucifer's sense of superiority over sinners! So they are polite and friendly in a way that sometimes makes it evident that they know they can afford to be because they're above most of the people around them. They won't overtly fish for compliments, but that's why stroking their ego is so effective: they won't ask for it, but it's their most major vice. It's like petting a purring tiger. They enjoy when their presence is shocking, so they will absolutely walk casually into places where they know anyone able to identify them will freak out, and they'll visibly find the results amusing, but they won't outright admit to doing it on purpose. When they actually get into conflict with people, they like to look like they're being the bigger man about it, but they're honestly biting at the bit for a reason to go casually nuclear on someone who looks like they deserve it.

Speech patterns: Tangible but not over-the-top valley girl accent. They think it's fucking hilarious. Mildly prone to nefarious laughter, though it's generally because they're genuinely amused.

Friendships: Their concept of friendship is a little bit detachedly celestial. They definitely have friends in every ring, but they're bad about accidentally not visiting for long periods of time and they're prone to feeling like nobody in hell can genuinely understand them. They make contracts with relative ease with people they are friendly with specifically because they like feeling like the person people come to for powerful assistance. They'd probably do best seeing if they can befriend any of the seven sins, to minimize the baseline imbalance of power level and lifespan, but it just feels awkward when they all know Lucifer. The unassuming, baseline comraderie is the main thing they miss about heaven.

On exorcism: They fucking loved the power trip of being an exorcist. Too much. That's why they stayed in hell in the first place. And then they thought about it too damn long and got to know the locals, and now it's just fucking awkward to go around killing indiscriminately. Knowing too much really took the fun out of it! They used to join in on the exorcisms when they came around again, but not anymore.

Hobbies: They keep fish! They like setting up self-maintaining freshwater aquariums of various sorts, and particularly enjoy feeling like they've captured a genuine slice of nature in a fish tank. They visited Vox's shark tanks once and thought they were boring as hell because the sharks are mechanical and he doesn't have any live flora. They also enjoy being a huge gossipy bitch, which is arguably like 90% of what they actually use their powers for.

Powerset: While Lucifer has the power of Creation, Tzafael has the power of Sight. They see a great many things, and they see those things As They Are. So, basically: localized omniscience. They can't read minds, but they can tell if some is lying to them, and they can also see everything within a certain vicinity (depending on how hard they're pushing it), including through walls. This isn't weird or overwhelming to them: it's how they were designed to exist! If anything, losing that would make them feel blind. They also have a very small amount of foresight, which is mostly useful for being hard to hit in a fight and also being obnoxious by unintentionally interrupting people's sentences. This does not help them come off as less condescending.

Leaving heaven: Seeing the truth of things as they are, and seeing everything around makes the facade of heaven frustrating and tedious to swallow. They prefer hell because it feels more honest!

Bird traits: Absolutely hell yes to the nictitating membranes on every single eyeball, which also doubles as protection against any eyeball stabbing! They preen, they adore shiny shit, they love to gab and gossip, and while they are mostly a magpie, any bird seraph is going to be a bird of prey in some way or another, so it is as difficult to break their grip as it would be that of a raptor of similar size. I think it's implied that all heavenly and some demonic beings have various stages of their true forms, so their humanoid birdform is a similar style to what we see from Sera in the first few seconds of meeting her, and their true form is closer to what we see of Stolas at the end of Truth Seekers in Helluva Boss, except with about a billion more looming eyeballs. As for their most humanoid form's teeth: I figured they'd stayed in hell long enough for their teeth to go sharp like Lucifer's, but I am also super down for fangs if you have a design you're playing with!

Children: Ehhh...kinda cute, when they're not Tzafael's responsibility. Frequently funny in small doses or from a distance. Delightfully honest or else delightfully poor liars. Often just not their bag, though, especially if they kids are spoiled or self-absorbed (sorry, what was that? "Hypocrite"? Must have misheard.)

ANGST: They are a social animal and they miss their flock! They keep mooning about potentially reconnecting with Lucifer because they fucking miss heaven, except heaven doesn't feel like it did when they were a kid, so it doesn't feel like home. Any small inconveniences, they feel free to whine about with deliberately humorous dramatics, but when they feel genuinely hurt, they withdraw, hide in their nest, and keep it to themselves as best as they can. It hurts the ego to admit that kind of weakness when they're supposed to be a fucking seraph, especially when they feel alone and without equals in their place in the world. But even though heaven turned out to be a damn lie, they miss family. On a more minor note, they're also a poor sport about being genuinely made fun of in bad faith.

#ask #personal #velvet-games #my ocs #my writing #tzafael #long post #THANK U SO KINDLY FOR THIS ASK #it genuinely brings me so much joy that you are enjoying hearing about this character! :D #I should def actually write something with them at some point so that their tone and vibe comes across better #it's just bedtime for me rn so no time atm!

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themswritinwords · 1 year ago

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ALSO I'm once again going to be a panelist, presenter, and moderator at the LTUE Symposium in February!

LTUE is one of the most affordable writers'/creatives' conferences out there (extra discounts for if you're a student) while still giving you a massive bang for your buck. They have eight different 'tracks' for presentations and panels (writing, world building, art, TMA, academics, books, gaming, and professional development), but you can attend literally whichever sessions, panels, or presentations you want, so you can mix and match interests and professional goals.

It's super educational and I highly recommend it to anyone trying to go pro with their creative works, but it's also fun. Like obscene amounts of fun. It's all the best of a convention while also providing genuine professional opportunities. People come in cosplay, Sunday Best, and/or street clothes; I was on a panel last year next to an author with electric purple hair and a real silver fairy tiara whilst I was wearing a t-shirt with a sunglasses possum on it, and the guy on the other side of us was in a full suit and bowtie. There was a life-size Springtrap cosplay out in the main lobby. I pitched for the first time ever to 3 actual literary agents and got 3 requests. I got personal career advice from a 25+ year industry pro. A 12 year old with a "future author" pin asked me questions on my presentation and took notes, and so did an octogenarian in rainbow suspenders. I was taught how to write a professional query letter-- that has a 16% positive response rate, where standard is ~10%-- by a former lawyer in a pirate hat.

It's good vibes only, man.

But you'll also find professional agents, editors, artists, authors, directors, game devs and so on. It's a huge geek-fest that puts people at all levels of the professional world on equal footing. They've even got gaming events and filking circles.

In short, it's networking, fun, hyperfocus material, and professional-level education in equal measure.

I seriously can't say enough good things about it (and not just because I'm involved). There's something for every type of creator/creative out there, 11/10 highly recommend.

Anyway, here's what I'll be up to as a guest during all three days under the read more. (tl;dr conclusion, if you plan to attend and want to meet up, message me!)

Thursday

Original presentation (academics track): Folklore of the American South. An overview of myths, monsters, and old wives' tales from the rich storytelling heritage of the Southern States. AKA I finally have a platform to yell about my cultural heritage and by golly am I gonna yell about it! 10 am (yes it's a bit early, but I swear it'll be worth it! Y'all know you wanna hear about the Rougarou the destiny-determining powers of cornbread!)

Friday

Panelist: Shellshocked: Writing PTSD. Injecting realism into and dispelling myths surrounding characters with PTSD. AKA how flashbacks do and do not work, how to avoid making your character a caricature, and how to be sensitive so you don't use peoples' actual lived experiences as a sensationalist, reductionist cash grab. 10 am.

Panelist: Life After Coming Out. How to feature queer characters in more than just coming-out plots. AKA OwnVoices is not an excuse to exclude the reality of queer people in your built universes; don't write a story that's not yours to tell, but for the love of all things holy there's more stories to tell about queer folks than just The Big Realization! 11 am. (whew mercy, they gonna have me hoofin it all across that hotel RIP my ankles and my asthma)

Panelist: Fat Doesn't Mean Unfit. What it says on the tin. AKA a bunch of chubby folks are gonna demolish your fatphobia and why that's an important and good thing. Also I have a degree in health so I will be demolishing that fatphobia scientifically. 5 pm.

Saturday

Moderator: Dining Throughout History. A panel about how food, meals, and feeding communities did and did not work throughout history. AKA ancient Romans absolutely DID have takeout on the regular, and you're not a failure for not making 3 square meals a day at home with all-fresh all-natural ingredients. I mean, your characters aren't failures.... Yeah. That. 9 am.

Panelist: Nonnormative Relationships and You. The whats, whys, and hows of all the different non-romantic/nonsexual relationships your characters can find themselves in. AKA no shade to the romance crowd, but can we please stop forcing characters to kiss just because they're in physical or emotional proximity??? 11 am.

Moderator/Facilitator: Do-It-Yourself Medical Care: Hands-On First Aid. Come learn how to effectively injure and care for your characters by actually doing it! The caring part, not the injury part. We do not condone irl violence in the Marriott and as mod I will be obligated to fight you if you attempt to injure another participant. I can tell you right now as a both a stress crying asthmatic and the parent of a toddler with professional experience handling and subduing dangerous animals, it will be highly embarrassing for everyone involved. I seriously cannot tell you how excited I am for this one! It's me and four other authors who are also trained in medicine/health, so we're working hard to make this an informative and relevant experiential learning opportunity. They're only giving us 45 minutes, unfortunately, but we're already coordinating to try and pack in the most opportunities and most interesting exercises possible. It's gonna be so fun!! 1 pm, do not be late, we can only fit so many people and training dummies into the room!

Moderator: A Brighter Future: Solarpunk Fiction. A panel discussing the Solarpunk genre, why it's relevant, the ways conflict and worldbuilding would be different in a Solarpunk setting, etc. AKA a bunch of neohippies walked into a bar professional panel and decided to rant about sustainable living. 3 pm.

The rest of the time I'll be flitting around attending panels and presentations, checking out the art show and vendors room, socializing/networking, generally vibing, and maybe getting in a few pitch sessions. If you want to meet up, shoot me a message! I'm always open to Friending, and I know all the good places to grab lunch.

#writing #writing conferences #irl #ltue #ltue 2024 #creative writing #writeblr

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augustwritingchallenge · 5 months ago

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May I ask what the difference is between horror and thriller? I looked for the definition myself but everyone seems to have a different idea. One says their interchangeable. Another comment says it when the threat is defeat-able like a crime organization or a normal serial killer (not immortal/eldritch), but another pointed out that a number of thrillers and some have supernatural elements. Help english people, I am so confused.

I'm not English people myself, so now I'm not sure I can help you. XD

In my eyes, thriller is the creeping type of horror. The monster/danger is not obvious - maybe the monster looks like a normal person, maybe you can't see the monster or danger at all, you only perceive it through the character's fear. Horror doesn't need plot to be scary; thriller usually has plot, worldbuilding, backstory. And the fear you feel in horror is usually simple - if I go out in the dark, I meet a monster that eats kids - but in thriller, it's complex - there is a character who's being hunted by a ghost; this character is not a good person but they aren't being punished for being a bad person, they aren't being punished at all; they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time; so they kinda deserve it but kinda don't, it could happen to anyone, even me, no matter how good or bad I live... Whew, I hope this makes sense. 😅 Simply, horror is scary scary and thriller is psychologically scary and gives you chills even when the monster is not on screen.

But you can go with whichever definition you want. This is just my definition and what I found while I was researching while making the list.

#ask #prompt ask

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lynxindisguise · 2 years ago

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ten lines, ten people

thank you for the tag @spindrifters <333

rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. if you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

ahhh this is literally all of my fics, except the very first one 😅

shorn and scarred and yours - slytherin sirius AU

Blacks do not cry. Or, at least, they’re not supposed to.

Please Don’t See Me - modern w/ magic AU

“86 Jameson!” Lily calls, tossing yet another bottle into the already overfilled glass bin.

A Series of Unlucky Events - Love and Other Potions one-shot, fix-it

Lily has never really believed in luck. When she won the vial of Felix Felicis in Slughorn’s class, the pride of winning (and narrowly beating Severus) meant more to her than the prize itself. So she hid it away and barely thought of it over the next three years.

Pride and Prejudice and Werewolves - enemies to lovers (canon-divergent AU)

Beige corduroy, tawny tweed, and sandy hair, Remus very much hoped he’d be the least interesting sight in the Great Hall.

The Wolf and the Jester - Robin Hobb inspired fantasy AU

A forest is basically a library, Remus thinks. Just as a gruff, unkempt woodsman is merely another version of a shy, studious palace scribe. Except simpler. Everything is so much simpler now. He hunts, gardens, tracks the moon and charts the stars--he's content. And so is the wolf. It's the human part of himself, it turns out, that was restless and temperamental, always itching for change and conflict.

exes, horcruxes, and other reasons to panic - exes to lovers (oh look, another canon-divergent AU)

Remus stares, mesmerized at the pale lavender smoke emanating from the goblet, definitely not avoiding the intent gaze of those laser green eyes.

Uncanny Moony Effect - Love and Other Potions, one-shot

Sirius wakes up on a scratchy beige carpet he doesn’t recognize on the floor of a bedroom he’s never seen. It’s small, neat, cozy, and eerily familiar in an itch-in-the-back-of-his-head type of way. Well at least he’s not naked. Or in the bed.

Sarcastic Truths and Lies By Omission - Love and Other Potions, one-shot

“Lupin!” A firm hand claps Remus on the back. Startled—he’s always been jumpy, but he’s especially on edge these days—he nearly drops the glass he’s been clutching with white-knuckled fingers.

Of Monsters and Cowards - slytherin sirius, First War Au

The Death Eater raises his chin and surveys the pack haughtily from behind his mask. Most of them are taller than him—maybe it’s a wolf thing, maybe it’s that he’s not particularly tall. But they feel small—all awkward angles folded in on themselves.

A Dog in Stag’s Clothing - Love and Other Potions, one-shot

“Prongs! Mate! Brother! Light of my life! Stop drooling over Evans and pay attention to me,” Sirius whines, tugging on James’s sleeve.

WHEW okay we’re done, no pressure tags to some old mutuals and some new for this one @colgatebluemintygel @fruity-individual @mostlyoptimisticdinosaur @moongays @wanderingdonut @msalexwp @demidreamer @achilleslikespeas @impishtubist @crushofdoves

#apparently i have three moods:#blanket statement #atmospheric description #unhinged dialogue #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfic #my writing #tag game

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sprngwillcomeagain · 2 years ago

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Hannix AU: Sweet Nothings (they mean everything to me) update coming soon

HI HELLO! for anyone waiting for a chapter 7 update on my Hannix Valentine’s Day chapter fic….I promise you that it’s coming soon!!

Chapter 7 is currently standing at about 6.8k words without even reaching Valentine’s Day yet and has nearly half of what TGM moments i wanna include in this monster of a chapter.

It’s gonna be a long (and good one) to hopefully make up for the almost two months I’ve been gone.

I’m leaving a link for chapter 6 here incase anyone wants to read the latest installment:

And!!

The reason why I wanted to make this post. Here’s a little snippet of a conversation in Chapter 7 everyone in my comments suspected would happen: Enjoy <3 (y’all knew the angst was coming!)

— 🤍 —

It’s been a year.” Nat pushes back, ignoring how her heart screams for her to listen. To have patience she lost the moment she realized Jake had cut her away from his life like a rotten thorn in a rose. “It’s been a year and he’s fine. I thought he loved me enough to at least let me explain why you needed me to be there when you wanted help.”

It’s silent for a minute. The sun begins to set in front of them.

“He loved you, Nat.” Brad began, “He made that clear the night we fought, and I don’t think that type of love ever goes away. He was arguing about the love you had for me and—“

“That was different. I’ll always care for you but Jake knew—“

“Knew what?” He argued. “Did he know that you loved him more than a friend? Did you ever tell him? Did he know how much you cared for him after leaving with me, a guy who worried you way too much and took your attention away from him when he was waiting for the opportunity to…..“

Bradley didn’t need to continue. Nat knew, and so she finished the sentence for him.

“…..Opportunity to tell me that he loved me.”

— 🤍 —

and there it is. I’ll be posting the next chapter here when I’m finished, wish a girl luck because I wanna get this chapter out as soon as possible while also keeping up with other things so! whew! I can’t wait for you guys to read this and to finish these last few chapters <3 to anyone who has read the story so far, thank you so much!

#hannix #jake seresin #natasha trace x jake seresin #natasha trace #top gun maverick #fluff #angst #lots of angst #falling in love #fanfic #phoenix x hangman #natasha phoenix trace #jake hangman seresin #tgm fanfiction

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ewingstan · 2 years ago

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Finished Twig

Alright, some thoughts. Whew.

This will be mostly on the epilogues, because that’s what I have on my mind and that’s what I have the most to say about. But I have a lot to say on the whole thing, so please ask me anything about the story, its end, and its characters, because I’d love the chance to put my thoughts down. I know I have some character asks I need to get to, feel free to keep sending those in.

I feel confident in saying I love at least three of the epilogues. There’s a triptych in Red, Shirley, and Emily’s stories about finding a way to live in a wasteland world. The devastated, lonely woman in the devastated, lonely landscape, wondering what they were even fighting for after so much was lost, and finding the bit of green that answers her. Shirely and Pierre getting their swansong scenes, flexing the problem-solving muscle they’ve built up as Sy and Jessie’s go-to competent people, showing that it will be difficult for the old order of things to reestablish itself. Emily getting to live and to love and to be loved, to rub impropriety in propriety’s personified faces, to start living the type of life we’d all hope to be living if Twig’s technology was made available (that is, taking full advantage of body modification with our partners and then going at it like rabbits).

I am not sure at how I feel at the proposed ending Sy- sorry, Simon- gives the king. It fits with the world that Sy wanted when he was discussing that with Jamie and Helen, way back when. Constant conflict, no room for stagnation. But I worry about how much of a break from the order of things it will truly be. Was the problem really that the academies were stagnant? A lack of challenges wasn’t what led to the use of their population as experiment-fodder. Conflict would only make them less likely to hold back, as we saw since the start of civil war breaking out in the Crown States.

But maybe I’m being too short-sighted on this, and should be paying more attention to the promised end-state. Maybe the stagnation being prevented was the slate-wiping the Infante and his ilk seemed to desire, the plan to choke the world and come back in a few centuries to repopulate it with loyal lab-grown subjects. By contrast, the endstate Simon promises has the Nobles killed, the academies curtailed. The world not choked by power wedded to control. Red, Shirley and Emily’s chapters becoming prophesies, an example of what could come in a world where people don’t need to fear idle lesser nobles making their towns into play-places, or the academy forcing itself to be necessary for everyone’s survival.

I don’t know. Perhaps it’s all just the framing of things that was needed to convince Adam (which yes, I do love the full-circle detail of the king being fucking Frankenstein’s Monster, absolutely terrific as the final tidbit of worldbuilding we get). Or maybe I’m wrong to try and find something resembling a happy ending resulting from this plan. Lord Simon’s narration certainly seemed to suggest that he had left all semblances of morality to his past self. But I don’t really think Simon should be considered separate from Sy. This was a story about growing up. “The poisonous child wasn’t a child anymore.” “Lambs grow up, and then they aren’t lambs anymore.” Simon is Sy, grown up, in the most circuitous way possible but the only way his fucked-up psyche could really allow. His conversation with Duncan confirmed it for me: what if I’m different from the person I was, when I became attached to these people? What if I’m just putting in new hooks? Simon framed it in his head as manipulation, because that’s what he is, but really that just describes any group that stays together over time. No one stays the same, and if we stay together its because we’ve found things to like in the people we’ve become.

At the end of things, all Simon’s done is given himself the biggest bug-box to shake yet, with his friends at his side grown into Nobles and Doctors. Crown and academy wedded together in a way the originals couldn’t be. I can see why Lord King Adam took the deal—sure, he’s at the head, but its of a beast he can’t even really steer at this point. Like professor Lawrence seeing the Infante as something he needed to flow with until he was given a good argument for taking a fucking harpoon gun to the bastard, Adam helms a system whose momentum seems predestined to take it to a place no one would actually want, but whose avoidance would mean the Crown and Academy giving up power and control. The Lambs are offering to force that avoidance for him.

Alright this got a bit meandering. Final thoughts: I still think this is the best of the three wildbow works I’ve read so far. Worm finished stronger for me, but then, Worm had one of the best endings I’ve gotten the pleasure of experiencing in any medium. I might prefer being in the headspace of Taylor over Sy, at least marginally. But the character interactions, the worldbuilding, the struggle with how to have meaningful relationships when you’re a perfect manipulator, the fact that we get to see such a large cast change and mature— its truly amazing writing. Thanks, WB. This one has been a ride.

...

Now, do I have the willpower to go even a day before starting the Glow-worm chapters?

#leo says #leo reads twig #wildbow

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stregoniconiconii · 2 years ago

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The thing is I can also see Robin trying to stick out that relationship because she feels like she has to prove a point but it’s genuinely just So miserable. Like it becomes a huge deal anytime she wants to see or talk to Steve (will literally insinuate that Robin is cheating on her) and god forbid she even says his name in a conversation. I’m making this hypothetical girlfriend out to be a monster lmaoooo. but anyway yeah Steve has to go and move her out while her girlfriend is at work and Robin feels so conflicted because she can’t wait to get the fuck out there and go back home to her best friend but she also feels like she’s letting her girlfriend win in this situation. It’s just shitty :((

i feel like there’s always that One ex that fucks you up and i could see this type of person being that for robin. bc i’d have to imagine that it was a very passionate relationship for robin to stick it out this long even if it made her low-key miserable bc usually these things are a slow burn. like it slowly built into these screaming matches you know? this type of person has probably been cheated on before so they’re already paranoid and with ur gf being extremely close to someone, even tho she swears it would never be anything other than platonic? yeah it would get to that sort of person. but it would not be fun to deal with at all. especially if this is the same sort of person that has them moving to a different state from steve and especially if one of their main motivations for moving that far is to get robin away from steve. could get lonely and dark Fast. wow we’re really being mean to robin </3 in my mind this is also when steve is married (don’t know if it’s wife one or two tho) so they’re probably like oh we’re starting our serious adult lives you know? ugh anyway it’s really exhausting to deal with jealous and controlling people who refuse to trust you whew boy it sucks. but robin does have a steve to get her out of that situation when the time comes <3

#platonic stobin #codependent stobin #we’re being mean to robin </3

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thisisevenharderthannamingablog · 5 months ago

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Liveblogging notes for ep. 12. I can't believe there's only two left.

Oh no, Chay, I know you're young but don't be like that.

Porsche is still in house uniform, so I guess he's still part of the security team, just not bodyguarding Kinn?

As I said last time, this eavesdropping thing never ends well. I keep forgetting that this is Porsche's first-ever relationship, which might explain some of his paranoia. Kinn's lots of things and lots of them aren't nice, but he's not gonna cheat on you. (Even if the boys miss him, or at least his wallet.) And it turns out that Kinn has gone off alone to meet with a guy about actual mob business. Kinn arranged for Porsche's uncle to lose all his money to pressure Porsche to take the job way back in episode 1 so they wouldn't lose the house?

This is not particularly surprising to me, but it surprises the hell out of Porsche.

Talking about blood types with your torturer, not on my bingo card sorry. Pete you're gonna get tazed some more aren't you. (There's no way hedgehog is even in the book. Literally no one has a pet hedgehog.)

Porsche is pissed. Why was Korn so intent on hiring Porsche as to go to all this trouble? Kinn still doesn't know, was just following dad's orders. Wants to help so much. They're both upset.

Korn is back to doing pottery, so we're doing all kinds of early-season callbacks now. He already knows what Porsche wants to ask - but first he offers to answer a question he didn't even have, about the car crash? The driver of the other car was a friend of Korn's.

Korn claims to have covered up the crash to help his friend. To have forgotten the matter until Porsche turned up that night Kinn was attacked, then made the connection and tried to make up for what he had done by giving Porsche the job, that he didn't tell the truth because Porsche would not have accepted help.

This is complete nonsense, obviously, and it feels like a diversion. Why did Korn even bring the accident into it?

I think this is the first direct criticism Kinn has ever offered Korn. "Went too far" is putting it mildly, but you have to start somewhere.

Korn was right about one thing; Porsche does not, in fact, accept his help.

Vegas' hedgehog is sick. He leaves the key. Escape attempt #2? Nope, turns out that Pete can't leave the soggiest of wet cats sitting alone on the lawn to ugly cry about his dead pet. This is officially the weirdest pair I have encountered in my journeys through fiction.

Funeral for a hedgehog.

Pete looks like he doesn't know what to do with this information. Same, my guy, same. Gun, why would you have a child take care of hedgehogs? They are not even domesticated. Was the point just to get him used to everything he cares for dying? Because that is VERY messed up, I'm kinda impressed actually.

I don't know how the writers are doing this, what alchemy is going on here. I can't say I ship it, but this is compelling af.

HOLY SHIT PETE just fucking GOING for it?! Gonna fall for a monster, don't mess around I guess. Again with the dizzy camera movement, too. Remember when Pete was shy and kinda goofy?! Cause um... whew. No wonder he didn't want to kiss Porsche, boy's way too vanilla for him.

In a neck-snapping change of tone, the Kittisawats are back at home--and Kinn went with them. Good job, stand by your man. Learn to do laundry, god knows you gave the main house staff enough work. We've come a long way since episode 5, but Porsche is worried his rich boyfriend won't adjust well?

Porsche, remember that Kinn was miserable until you came along? That he would literally rather have stayed lost in the forest with you than go home? You can only get through so many days by means of functional alcoholism and rented sex; he'll be fine. And you were right, he is cute when he smiles.

Teh and Time came to visit? Oh my word, suddenly I am Concerned. Domestic shenanigans are ruined by Korn's arrival, with a picture of the other driver from the accident -- and the guy's address. Innnteresting play, Korn, very interesting. You are down to very few pieces now; what's the idea?

So they go to the address, and Porsche has a gun, and Kinn is offering to go with him because your first murder is a very emotional time for anybody I guess and he's willing to step up. (How many times has Kinn been given a photo and an address and a totally unspoken expectation by his father?). However, the guy's granddaughter is right there so... nah, not doing that.

Super-interesting use of mirrors in this bit? Like it's almost stepping the camera back from the sheer intimacy of it while Porsche breaks down crying.

Back to the bar, where it all started, for a fresh start. Porsche is smiling again, so that worked, and their song is playing. I'm a little worried about all the red light in that scene though.

Kim finally shows up at school and finds out that Chay ditched the whole thing, and is perturbed. Yeah, your actions have consequences, idiot. Chay meanwhile has read the manual: He is dying his hair blue and going out with friends to a bar he's too young for. (At least those friends know that Porsche will kill them if he finds out, although they might not realize that should be taken literally.)

Chay you are gonna get SO sick. Kid's already drunk for the first time, now you want to give him drugs? Not to worry, Kim materializes out of nowhere to slap the guy down. You two already broke up, how are you having a breakup fight now?

More food. That's right Kinn, tell him he's pretty. He is.

Deadbeat Uncle shows up out of nowhere? What the hell? Wants to send his regards to Korn and tell Porsche not to trust any of them, give Porsche a photo of his family that HAS KORN IN IT and ask for money?

#b watches kinnporsche #kpts

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shimzus-a3 · 3 years ago

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@kainan asked — willow + violet + goldenrod + hibiscus + hollyhock. last but not least [insertflowername]: do it [redacted] ?

willow : how does your muse handle sadness & depression ?

once upon a time i wrote a headcanon about how shimizu handles stress , and i think a lot of the same coping mechanisms she uses to handle moments of overwhelming pressure apply regardless of if that pressure is stress / sadness / depression. i note that shimizu is the type of person who likes having some semblance of control around her surroundings , because she thrives in routine / order / security. that means for abstract stressors or emotional pressures , it’s harder for her to find something to lock into securely. usually , to cope , she finds something tangible that she can anchor herself to. in japan , the idea of ‘ seiso ’ ( 5s system ) is taught to young children as a way of keeping their surroundings clean and functional. it’s the reason why schoolchildren are made to clean their own classrooms at the end of the day , and is used to justify productivity as a direct result of a clean workspace. shimizu tends to follow seiso in times of stress by cleaning her room / cleaning her house to transfer her thoughts from abstract emotional focuses to more tangible , physical focuses.

i also noted in that headcanon that if she’s stressed , she’s unlikely to share it with others. shimizu is deft at side-stepping or brushing away other’s concerns , or even down-playing them ( in the way she does in a hq extra when takeda finds her sick and tells her to go home , but she assures him she’s fine and can continue helping the team ). she’s highly reluctant to talk about her feelings even if prompted to by a close friend , so working through stress / sadness / depression is much like an inner battle than one she’s likely to work through with a friend.

she probably broods and is much quieter than usual , and excuses herself from spaces earlier than the majority so she has time to herself. she doesn’t cry very often , but if the cause of her sadness / depression was powerful enough then she might as a cathartic release. but mostly , i think her focusing on cleaning / doing tangible tasks is what helps her redirect her focus into something productive and grounding.

violet : how does your muse respond to betrayal ?

it really depends. at first , i want to say that she doesn’t respond to it well. much like semi , one of her major character flaws is that she’s quick to judge people and to form opinions of them immediately. but she’s also more lenient than him when it comes to adapting her opinions of people. for example , she disliked tsukishima and kageyama at first— tsukishima because he really seemed to disregard everyone else’s efforts on the team and was very unsportsmanlike , and kageyama because he too was unsportsmanlike at first and treated others poorly. however , the longer they were on the team , the better shimizu began to think of them. they became teammates rather than new , troublesome first years , and she started to overlook their rocky start. so while she’s quick to judge , under the right circumstances she can learn to rewrite those judgments.

when it comes to betrayal , she’s probably much the same way , but a bit more critical. despite how cold she can come across as , she has more empathy with close friends than one might assume , and if the betrayal is due to that friend being in a hard spot , then she might understand. of course , it would take her a long time to work through her own thoughts and come to an acceptance of any apology , but it’s not as if she’d never get there. more than anything— and as unfair as it is— because shimizu is quite judgmental at first , the betrayal would sting immediately and the empathy would take forever to work through. it would probably fall upon the ‘ traitor ’ to come forth to shimizu with an explanation and apology. she can’t read minds and won’t know what the person was thinking , and she’s not confident enough in her own ability to understand others , so it really needs to come straight from the mouth of the other person for her to begin her process of acceptance.

goldenrod : does your muse believe in luck or fortune ? why or why not ? where do they believe these things come from ?

not really , no. her family follows a mix of shintō and buddhist traditions , because while her maternal family is shintōist her father is buddhist. but they’re not necessarily a religious family , and shimizu isn’t pressed to say that she believes in the gods. in fact , when the third years go to the shrine for new years and they pray to the gods for success , shimizu cuts them down by saying the gods won’t help them win. in this little headcanon here i talked a lot about how shimizu addressed her surroundings at face value , and that her success in track and field wasn’t really tied to anything otherworldly. rather , she only focused on the things she could see / touch / hear. to me , this means that she’s more of a realist than an optimist who looks towards luck or fortune. you can’t count on those types of things to consistently help you , which means that they probably don’t really exist. instead , we have to take in the things around us that we can see and feel and rely on those. and overall , shimizu’s concerns are not with luck and fortune but on seeing challenges and tackling them with as much effort as possible , not about winning or losing.

hibiscus : how does your muse view the gentler , daintier things in life ? as things worth preserving & caring for , or things only bound to wither & disappear ?

she’s not a romantic and she’s not a pessimist , either , so shimizu probably ranks somewhere between these things. there are simple things she really appreciates in life , and in many of my threads i focus on those things because shimizu doesn’t talk / express her thoughts outwardly , but her appreciation for small insignificant details is a persisting feeling. she’s not pressed to want to protect them or to feel disappointed when they disappear ; there’s always a balance , and when one disappears she probably finds something else to appreciate. for example , she likes her family’s garden outside their teahouse because it’s beautiful and peaceful , but when she moves out into a home of her own she probably finds things that she likes about that space , too.

in japanese there’s a difficult-to-describe term called wabi-sabi , which is essentially like finding beauty in small , imperfect , fleeting things. it’s why tea house flower displays are asymmetrical and the style of japanese pottery that highlights cracks with gold glaze is so popular. shimizu appreciates wabi-sabi in life but doesn’t put too much emphasis onto it. but things like an ugly cat or mismatched socks are peaceful sometimes , and shimizu has no problem ( in all her silence ) pausing to give them a brief thought and a feeling of pleasant satisfaction.

hollyhock : how strong is your muse’s sense of ambition ? what’s something they strive for in life ?

compared to her team , who she watches grow in ambition , shimizu is not very ambitious. she’s the type of person who goes with the flow and accepts where life takes her , even if it’s not somewhere particularly glamorous. during track and field , she thinks about how it would be nice to succeed , but she knows her own limits and doesn’t feel ambitious to be the best despite her lack of innate talent.

at her core , i think shimizu is just looking for a comfortable life where she’s able to find things that bring her joy. she doesn’t care so much about money or fame , but maybe being able to settle down with someone and to pass the days feeling comfortable and loved would be nice.

that being said , she has a great respect for people who are ambitious and work towards their goals. that’s insanely attractive to her and she finds that those types of people , if humble and hard-working , make the best / most outstanding types of citizens.

insertflowername : do it [redacted] ?

yes. under the right circumstances it does.

botanical headcanons ,

#kainan #whew this was a monster to type out

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