#I have to draw the line somewhere it might as well be here

[ailinu]

the one the only miss caelis devair

[tgcg]

ms paint. you know her. u used her age 8 to make loads of rainbow ovals all over the canvas and then scramble it with selection tool. now u will know her true powers with my handyrandy tips under the readmore. some will be pretty basic and others are very special.

this post has 8 cool trix to learn for you. enjoy and i may do another in the future if i remember/learn more stuff

some of it might be common knowledge. but its got some deep cuts. all tips have gifs to show process easily.

🙂 enjoy and i hope this encourages you to fuck around in mspaint more

soundtrack for this post (loop it while you learn for advanced learning experience)

TIP 1) the right click trick

left and right mouse click correspond to col1 and col2 respectively, which u can see in the top bar. this applies to all brushes and the fill tool like above. when using shapes col2 will be the fill colour (if you have solid fill selected). right clicking with shape maker will reverse the colours use on the shape.

TIP 2) right click eraser

this one is extremely helpful for lineart or add shading. the eraser always uses col2. so your eraser can technically be any colour. but here's where you get powers: right clicking with eraser will only erase onto col1, with col2.

TIP 3) transparent selection change a guy destination

the beloved transparent selection tool works based on what is selected as col2. so long as you have the correct colour as col2 you can make any image transparent and put it on top of anything else. and yes this works with photo bg as you can see.

TIP 4) the gradience

this one is a little more complex. you want to start off with any canvas size, and make as many diagonal coloured bands as you want. (protip: holding down shift makes a perfectly diagonal line with line tool)

then you need to resize the canvas to a width of 1px (make sure you resize by pixels, and do not maintain aspect ratio). then resize again back to its original width (or a different width i cant stop you). you will have your lovely gradience.

TIP 5) superimposter

so. you got a cool gradient and wanna put a guy on it. heres what i do:

i open a 2nd mspaint with same canvas size and draw whatever i want on there. i then pick a completely unrelated colour to my entire piece, and set that as the bg. you could use white, pink, geen, whatever you want as long as it doesnt appear somewhere else in ur drawing. copy the guy.

go back to your gradient tab. ensure that col2 is set as that bg colour you picked (lilac for me). have "transparent selection" enabled. paste your guy in. cue fanfare

TIP 6) advanced superimposter

the great thing about this method is u can put multiple gradients in multiple areas of the image. this is where it gets all japanese printmaking type of shit. ukiyo-esque

all you need to do is make another canvas with a new gradient, ensure col2 is set as the colour you want to replace, then paste your original piece onto the new gradient. now my guy has a soft fade. you can do this as much as you want. (you could even make a canvas with a texture or photo and paste your drawing onto there)

TIP 7) "sketch layer"

so as you now know, col2 is what is removed when you click "transparent selection". which means you can also remove any instance of a colour from ur drawing. which means you can have a unique colour for sketch layer and remove it from the drawing later. i admittedly dont do this but it is a great trick to have.

now combine this with lowering your dpi for smoother lines. may seem obvious but it helps. its like a free stabiliser whenever u want.

TIP 8) rainbow art

now this is where you can get dizzee rascal "bonkers". check out my small and shitty rainbow trick. you can select anything and hold down shift, then drag with left mouse, to turn that selection into its own brush. i even did it with a guy. and you can of course do this with a photo as well.

🙂well that it for now. hope you liked it thanks for reading now back to your regularly scheduled tgcg programming

[deluluriddhi]

MY FAVOURITE BASKETBALL CAPTAIN IS MY BOYFRIEND!!

Pairing: Basketball captain!Heeseung x fan-gf!Y/N

Warnings: Unprotected sex, mentions of self insecureness, orgasm, curses, p in v etc.

As a fan of Heeseung, you couldn't help but be in awe of his skills on the basketball court. Watching him play with such precision and power was always thrilling, and you found yourself lost in the excitement of the game. But little did you know, Heeseung had been noticing your presence in the bleachers as well.

On a day when your favorite team was not playing, you decided to check out a game between Heesung's team and another team. The moment you sat down, you noticed a familiar-looking guy sitting beside you. As the game began, you were glued to your seat, unable to focus on anything but his every move.

Near the end of the game, you finally decided to ask him who he was. You tugged on his sleeve lightly, and he looked at you in surprise. He answered in a hum and lowered his head. "Can you show me your face? I think I've seen you somewhere."

But you couldn't hold in your curiosity anymore. You tightly gripped on one of his hands, the other pulling his cap off. He looked at you in shock, but you wanted to know who he was. "Um, no! No, you didn't!", he said with a hint of hesitation in his voice.

But you couldn't let it go. You kept staring at him, your mind racing to figure out where you might have seen him before. Just then, the Kiss Cam above your head zoomed in on you both, and the entire stadium cheered as you and him shared a kiss in front of thousands of people.

As the crowd settled down, Heeseung approached you. "Hey. I'm Heesung from the Deecelis Basketball Team and you?" he asked, smiling at you. His voice was soft, and his eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement. "Hey, I'm Y/N and I am your biggest fan."

As the game ended, Heeseung walked you to your car, and you both shared a laugh about the Kiss Cam moment. He asked for your number, and you gave it to him, still unable to believe that the famous basketball captain had noticed you after all those games.

As the days went on, you both became inseparable. Heeseung showed you the city and took you to all his favorite places. He made you feel special, and it wasn't long until you knew that you were in love with him. You were no longer just a fan but a part of his life, and you couldn't be happier. Your favorite player was now your boyfriend, and the world seemed brighter than ever before.

Now after being a couple for two years strains yet he hasn't touched you yet and that thought made your mind clouded for the past few days.

Are you not enough to satisfy him? Are you ugly? Does my body looks insatisfying? Does he not love me? All these questions going in circles in your mind all day along. You stopped talking to him even which got him worried sick for you. The day you did not pick up his call he came straight to your house after his practice ended where he found you on your bed wrapped up in a blanket, looking pale as ever.

"What happened to my dear?" He asked, voice laced in worry. "Nothing." You said as you leaned onto his chest on his lap. "Something is." He says. "It's just that you haven't touched me yet after being in a two years relationship." You said casually. He got shocked. "You here are carving for my touch while I was thinking you don't want anyone to touch you?!" He speaks as a chuckle left your lips. It was not before he threw you on the bed, taking eachother's clothes off, Heesung on top of you as you pull him by his neck into a long kiss.

His reddish tip rubbing at your entrance which made you moan his name. Him teasing your pussy while you begged him to stop. Him marking hickeys all over your body, sucking and licking all your sensitive spots, drawing circles around your nipples with his toungue and then sucking them like a hungry tiger. His hands and saliva all over you and soon his cum will be too. He held onto your waist as he lined up his cock to enter you. Your heavy breaths and you screaming his name turned him on more. He entered you. "FUCK LEE HEESEUNG. YOU ARE SO BIG." You scream. "Yes, I am sweetheart." He said in between heavy breaths as you pulled you into a kiss still thrusting inside you. His tip hitting all the spots you never thought he would.

After a few minutes of intense thrusting, you came together with Heeseung. "Fuck." You both said in sycn, out of the pleasure, his cock inside you made his cock twitch inside you more while the pleasure he was giving you made you see stars in broad daylight.

You clutched onto your bedsheet tightly with you head burried deep inside your pillow as he flipped you, "babe, what about doggy style?" He asked and you couldn't say no nor could you answer in words, only a moan as a yes. "Words, baby." He said and you could already feel his smirk accross his face as slapped your ass.

"Ye-yes." You said with your eyes closed. But he was not the type of guy who will wait for your answer. So, that 'yes' was followed by a long and loud moan because he entered you from behind without a warning.

Surely you couldn't get off the bed the next day. Can you? Well, Heeseung will make sure you can't.

M.list

Heyyy!! Thanks for reading. Follow me for more and like and reblog my posts if you like it. Hope you have a good day <3

If there are any mistakes, don't hesitate to correct me anytime.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[inamindfarfaraway]

I love how Paul's character in The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals is defined entirely by a lack of desire, or desire defined only as 'not what I don't want'. "What Do You Want, Paul?" is a big joke about what a terrible narrative protagonist he is. But it's deeper than that. Throughout the show, even in the smallest, most insignificant phrasing, this man only ever expresses wants in these negative forms, as if he's incapable of feeling attraction in itself rather than simply avoiding what he dislikes. And only avoiding! He never says that he hates anything, either! That would give him passion, drive, perhaps the goal of actively removing that thing. No, he exclusively uses the verb hate in past tense.

He doesn't like musicals, singing, dancing or public performances. He makes this very clear, to the point that it's one of his most significant character traits. At no point does he ever talk about liking any media.

He doesn't want to do social activities.

He doesn't want to give away his money. About both this and the above, he can provide no logical explanation or moral justification. He just doesn't feel like them.

He always gets black coffee because it has "no cream, no sugar, nothing in it"; that is to say, he might not necessarily love it, merely prefer it over its sweeter or more complex alternatives.

He doesn't believe that Emma should have to sing and dance at work - he doesn't want her life to be so unfair and annoying to the both of them.

He doesn't want to obstruct the workings of his office (saying "that's the last thing I want" triggers "What Do You Want, Paul?").

He says, "I wanna go home!" when Mr Davidson is singing at him, but means that he wants to be somewhere safe and not stuck in this incredibly uncomfortable situation.

He doesn't want to die.

He specifically doesn't want to die in Clivesdale, because fuck Clivesdale.

He doesn't want to join the Hive.

He doesn't want to leave Hatchetfield, even when it's the site of an alien invasion that is his personal worst nightmare. He actually says that "All things considered, I like Hatchetfield", arguably an exception to the standard. However, he's also well aware of the town's flaws and problems. He grew up one of its poorer residents, attending the inferior, underfunded Sycamore High School where he casually admits the students "hated [themselves]" and having to watch its more respectable rival Hatchetfield High's school play. He has no strong investment in his tedious middle-class office job. He doesn't get along with some of his fellow townsfolk, like his coworker Ted and all the employees of Beanies except Emma. He awkwardly evades giving to charity and the homeless every morning on his way to work. His life is decidedly not one of utter bliss, and yet it's good enough for him in that he doesn't have the energy, ambition or imagination to want anything more. Since he's "been here [his] whole life", his affection for his hometown could be more an aversion to everywhere else or the hassle of travelling. Sticking with the devil he intimately knows.

He doesn't think badly of Emma, and says so because he doesn't want her to or believe that he does after learning that she helped make a "hated" experience of his happen.

He doesn't want to let Bill die, which is why he goes with Bill to rescue Alice. His heroism and proactiveness at the turning point of the end of Act One start to notably erode his apathy, but his phrasing reaffirms his negative motivations: "Hey, it's not like you're asking me to go see Mama Mia!", "Emma, there comes a time in every man's life when he has to draw a line in the sand. And I will never be in a fucking musical."

He doesn’t want Bill to blame himself for Alice's endangerment, stay in the area once Alice is revealed to be a vessel of the Hive or kill himself.

He doesn't want to do some light reading on the universal truth of love and the strength of the human heart.

He has no positive motivation. He breaks one of the most basic rules of being a fictional character, let alone the main character the audience is supposed to root for. He isn't just an antihero, he's an anti-protagonist. Although this could easily make him boring or unsympathetic, he manages to seem relatable. Real. Human. He captures so genuinely an ordinary person living an ordinary life suddenly trapped in a horror story. How many of can honestly articulate "one concrete goal that motivates all [our] actions"? Even if you can, you wouldn't undergo a narratively fulfilling and thematically cohesive arc related to that desire the way a fictional character would. We're all essentially just trying to survive each day. To make or keep our lives however we define 'good enough'. We may not have a crystal clear picture of our ideal life, but I bet we all have a long list of things we don't want in it. We're all Paul.

What more appropriate antagonist for this man to face, then, than a force that exists to strip people of their autonomy, their individuality, their personhood, and force them to play archetypical characters in a conventional narrative? The Hive observes that Paul is an anti-protagonist and takes offence to this. It seeks to convert him into his antithesis, the "bold" "leading man" of its musical who the audience can "sympathize with". The Infected highlight this in the opening song, in which they eagerly anticipate and prepare the audience for his entrance... and he misses his cue. He isn't following their script. Perhaps that's why the audience is able to believe in this average, unassuming antihero's potential to succeed, to defeat the Hive or at the very least escape it, despite how fraught and grim the situation becomes. The story certainly proves itself to be cruel to its characters; but Paul doesn't operate like a normal character. The Hive promises to fulfil people's desires and make them happy throughout the play. Charlotte, Bill, Hidgens and Ted's deaths are connected to, either in direct causality or thematic relevance, their respective desires for Sam's love, Alice's safety, world peace (and the glory of a musical career) and Ted's own survival. Paul is uniquely immune to this pattern of death related to a core motivation.

Until:

"I can't leave without Emma”, “a friend of mine."

"Is there a chance of something more?"

"I think so. I'd like there to be. I want there to be."

He wants Emma, her life and her happiness and maybe, just maybe, her love. He wants to love her. To spend time with her. For the first time ever, he wants more out of life, not less. He's a little bit more of a character. After the Infected reprise the "Did you hear the word?" section of the opening song, building up to his appearance, this time he does enter the theatre, coming down the aisle just as he was meant to. Right on cue. Paul is now vulnerable to the narrative - the Hive's narrative. And the Hive's control.

Still he resists, even while doubting if he was ever really happy before. Not only does he use his final words, fittingly, to declare that he doesn't like musicals, but before that he firmly refutes the Hive, and the philosophy behind it and all the pressures and temptatations it might represent: "It doesn't matter what I want." What matters is the good of the world. Emma. Love. Hope. Freedom. Integrity. Humanity, which must be wonderful if we can make sacrifices like this for all the right reasons.

Rest in peace, Paul Matthews. You were the opposite of a conventional protagonist, but a true hero.

[fangirl-dot-com]

Logan Sargeant - London Boy

Welcome to the “Besties for the Resties” series, the backstories to the reader’s friendship with the other drivers. Now, I won’t be doing a single chapter all of them because that’s a lot, so some of them will have a joined chapter. You can’t please everyone, but for the sake of the storyline, there needs to be a few chapters as to how you became good friends with the grid! Enjoy and don’t forget to comment! 

PA - I also did the head cannons before I wrote these so they might not exactly match, so I apologize!

It had been a few weeks since the winter break started. Which meant it was time to hunt for apartments across the world. Well, in two countries. 

Max and Christian had been able to convince you to find a small place in Monaco so that you wouldn’t be too alone all the time. It was nice and comfortable. Way better than the one you had in Nice. That apartment had never felt like home to you. It was just a place to sleep whenever you had to go to Dams for testing. 

Arthur was thrilled when he also heard the news. You strategically had found a place that was in between Max’s place and where Arthur lived. The area was clean and a few cafés littered the shops around you. You knew that you’d spend most of your time there when you were there. 

But right now, you were back in London, trying to find a flat for when you needed to do team testing. As of right now, there were two more places that you needed to look and you wished that one of them would be perfect for you. 

However, as you were walking, your nose picked up on an amazing scent. Turns out, there was a Starbucks around the corner and you were in desperate need of some coffee. You pulled your jacket closer to your chest as you entered the store. You were immediately hit with the smell of coffee beans and pastry items. You stood in line in front of a tall blond. But your ears must have been tricking you because you definitely heard a familiar American accent. 

The barista asked for his name. 

“It’s Logan.” 

You let out a quick gasp as he turned to the left to go wait for his coffee. You took a step and ordered your favorite drink and a chocolate croissant. When the barista asked for your name, you told her a little quietly. You glanced over as you paid, eyes on where Logan stood. You shuffled over after you paid. 

Not drawing attention to yourself, you stood a little behind him. You had the most amazing plan. 

You tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Sir, can you tell me what a kilometer is?” Before he recognized it was you, he stiffened and thought the worst, a fangirl had found him. 

But as he turned to answer, his eyes lit up at the sight of you. 

“You are ridiculous.” He brought you in for a hug. You squeezed him tight before he let go. “What are you doing here?” 

“I am trying to find an apartment, but I needed coffee before I went to the next one,” you said as you grabbed a straw. 

Logan laughed before grabbing his coffee that had been set on the counter as the two of you talked. “How long are you here for?” 

“Just until I find somewhere to stay. Pre-season testing doesn’t start for another couple of weeks, but I need it by then. Nice is too far and my apartment in Monaco won’t be ready until later.” He nodded as you went ahead and grabbed your drink, pushing the straw into it. 

Logan took a sip of his drink. “You have any other plans for tonight?” You shook your head and that got him thinking. “Ok hear me out. I will go with you to the two other flats for you to look at, and then we need to go get pizza or something. And we still have a movie to finish.” 

Your eyes sparkled at the mention of pizza. You were a bit hesitant to accept. But, Max’s voice echoed in your head. “Kid. You need to get out of your comfort zone. The drivers aren’t bad and they’ll love you as much as I do.” He was right, and you found yourself admitting that too often. 

“Sure! We can get going if you’d like to. Or did you want to stay here for a little bit?”

Logan hadn’t planned on staying anyway, so the two of you made your way to the first destination. 

It’s safe to say that you would not be bidding on this one. It was too far from where you needed to be and the area was sketchy, Logan was glad that he was with you. He’s sure if you told Max where you had been alone, he would have flipped. The staircase was practically falling apart and the door lock was broken. The windows were old and the house smelled like a smoker had lived there before. The bedrooms were too small, same as the bathrooms. You and Logan hightailed it out of there before the landlord even had time to speak with you. 

On your way to the next one, Logan began to see some familiar sights. “Hey, can I see the address real fast?” his accent was a nice contrast. 

“Sure!” You handed him your phone as you looked around for a trashcan. Logan’s laugh brought you attention back to him. “What’s up?” 

He gave you your phone back. “It’s just that, the apartment you’re going to look at is right next to mine.” 

You gawked at him. “No flipping way!” 

“The building is nice, much nicer than the last one. I know the way back.” You turned off your navigation and followed the blond. You could definitely see that the area continually got nicer the closer you got. The streets were getting a little more crowded and you found yourself clinging to Logan’s sweatshirt. You felt like a child and probably looked like one too. 

When you got to the building, you were amazed at the size. It was much cleaner than the last one. The landlord was able to give you and Logan a tour of the place. Logan gave some good feedback, since he swore that his flat was the same exact layout. 

You could definitely see yourself living here. You quickly gave the landlord your price and you walked out the door as a new owner of a London flat. 

When the man left, Logan looked over at you with a mischievous smirk. “Celebratory pizza?” 

“You bet!” You were thankful that you found Logan or you think you’d still be flat hunting by now. 

The bright light of the sign illuminated the darkening street. It seemed like the owners new Logan pretty well as they greeted him by name. They stopped and asked you a bit about yourself and to see if you’d be hanging around. When you said yes, they seemed ecstatic and it made you wonder how little business they got. 

The pizza was to die for. At first, they didn’t have your favorite pizza, but Logan was quick to order you something that he’d think that you’d like. And he was absolutely correct. You ate the pizza very quickly. 

After dinner, the two of you found yourselves walking around. 

“How are you liking the city?” Logan spoke up first. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “This is the first time I’ve really had the chance to get to see it. The only other time I’ve been here was for testing before Vegas. So, yeah.” You took a breath. “It’s nice though.” 

Logan looked around at all the lights, “It gets really pretty around this time. I don’t like it when it rains all the time.” 

You looked up at him, brows furrowed, “Aren’t you from Florida? Doesn’t it rain like every single day?” Logan let out a big laugh. 

He licked his lips before responding, “Yeah it does. It’s a different rain. It’s more humid. The rain here is cold and just clings to you.” 

After walking around for a bit, Logan invited you back to his apartment. When you walked, in you were thinking that it would be like a typical male domain. Something like a Mojo Dojo Casa House. 

But you were presently surprised with how nice it was on the inside. You whistled as you looked around at the interior. “Damn Logan. Did your mother decorate for you.” 

You heard a groan from behind you. Turning around, you saw Logan looking at you with hands on his hips. 

“For your information,” there was the white valley girl, “I did this all by myself.” 

“Which translates to ‘my mom picked everything out and you just put it all up’.” Logan pouted. 

“Oscar helped as well.” 

“Ah, that makes more sense.” 

“Y/n!” You laughed and continued walking around the apartment. Your eye caught a small picture hanging on the way. 

“Logan? Can I see this one?” You pointed at it, but couldn’t reach it. 

He quickly came over and took it off the nail and handed it to you. Your fingers glided over the image. It had perfectly captured Logan, and then the boy on the other side must have been Oscar. But what surprised you was that you were also in this picture. 

Logan must have seen your longing glance. “Yeah, my mom took that for me and Oscar. It was the first time the two of us had podiumed together. Oscar would have been first but…” 

You cut him off, “I overtook him on the last lap.” 

Logan’s eyes bulged and he yanked the frame out of your hands. He brought it close to his face, a little too close to really see anything but he was dramatizing it. You rolled your eyes at his childishness. 

He brought the frame back down and looked at you. “I didn’t know that was you!” 

“Yeah. I’ll tell Oscar sorry for taking his win.” 

Logan looked at you as though you had grown three heads. “Excuse me! Oscar could not shut up about how cool the overtake was. And how much cooler it seemed because you were the only girl.” 

You looked up at him with a surprised look, but Logan continued. 

“Yeah. I actually don’t remember much of it. I was shaking so much and couldn’t concentrate. I almost dropped my trophy.” He looked over at you. You looked back up at the other pictures and sighed. 

“I lost my godfather the afternoon before the race.” 

Logan went quiet, silently wanting you to continue. 

“I needed to win for him. That race I also debuted with the number 89. It was his number when he did karting. I felt like I owed him a win.” 

Logan placed the picture back on the nail and brought you in for a hug. The two of you stood in silence for a moment before you backed up. Logan looked at you with a sad smile. You looked back up at the picture. 

“Do you think your mom could print me one out?” 

Logan ruffled your hair. “Sure! I’ll have her send it to me and I can just do it.” 

“Thanks Logan.” 

“Are you ready to watch a movie?” 

“Can we finish Cars 2?” 

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

After that night, you and Logan seemed to be closer. You were still quiet with the rest of the grid, but Max and Logan knew how to bring you out of your shell. 

Your debut race was a big one, and everywhere you turned a microphone was pushed into your hands and you were finagled in front of a camera. This is where you found yourself 85% of the time that day. 

“Hi Y/n, how are you doing today?” You had the urge to roll your eyes. These journalists should have been able to come up with different questions. But you didn’t or Riggs would have an aneurism. 

“I’m good! A little overwhelmed but that’s expected.” 

The reporter continued, “How was your break? We saw that you posted pictures of your new places on Instagram, why don’t you tell us a bit about those.” 

You smiled, now that was a question you hadn’t heard yet. “I love my new places. Max had been pressuring me to get a small place in Monaco so that he could quote-on-quote look after me. I think he would just miss me too much.” The reporter laughed and so did you. 

You kept going, “And then I was able to find a small place in London for when I have to go for sim training and what-not. I like it a lot.” 

“We loved your pictures from London. Seemed like you and Logan Sargeant were having a good time.” 

“Oh yeah, speaking of which,” you trailed off as you spotted Logan. You brought the microphone with you as you walked up to the blond. You pulled his sleeve and dragged him back with you. 

“Uh hello to you to?” he questioned with a laugh. 

“I was about to talk about our time in London.” Logan’s eyes lit up. 

He all but whispered, “You didn’t tell them.” You now rolled your eyes. 

“I haven’t had time yet.” You looked at the camera, “We’re neighbors!” 

“Yeah, I’ve had to deal with seeing this child all the time.” You gaped up at him. Whack. Logan didn’t even flinch. “See what I’ve had to deal with?” He pointed at you.  

The reporter’s eyebrows raised at your bickering. They interrupted, “How did you two find out that you were neighbors?” 

You shushed Logan, “I was apartment hunting and I needed some coffee and found him at Starbucks. And then we went and looked at a different one first.” 

Logan leaned into the microphone, “It was sketchy as heck. I’m glad I went with her.”

“And then I gave him the address to the second one and he was all like ‘dude, that’s my address’,” you mimicked his accent. It was his turn to roll his eyes. 

“Yeah and then we got pizza and finished Cars 2.” You heard a gasp behind the two of you. When you turned around, you were met with an Aussie look of betrayal. 

“You finished Cars 2? With me?” He put his hand to his heart as if he was shot. You shot him a sheepish smile. 

Logan looked at his best friend, “You weren’t there mate” 

You looked at Oscar. “I promise we will finish it with you at some point. Maybe during the next red flag?” Oscar nodded and then was on his way. 

You noticed that you had taken a lot of this reporter’s time and were quick to wrap things up. 

“Final question. What is your favorite part about London, now that you’ve lived there for a while?” 

You glanced up at Logan. “Well you know what Mother Swift says. You gotta love a London Boy.” You winked at the camera.  

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @digitalizeduniqueness @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @treehouse-mouse @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken

[jaegerbby]

➳ quid pro quo

--͙[armin arlert x female! reader]-͙-

╰┈➤ word count; 2756

╰┈➤ rundown; the last time you saw armin, you were telling him how much you liked him. it must be fate that you finally saw him again, right?

╰┈➤ caution; elements of NONCON/DUBIOUS CONSENT, manipulation, virginity loss (mentions of blood), rough sex, cream pie, unprotected sex, cervix fucking and belly bulge mentioned.

not proof read!

"you're a virgin?" you are speaking too loudly.

armin unsurely glimpses around before rubbing his nape. "yeah. is something wrong with that?"

you shake your head immediately. the last thing you want is to make him feel judged. but this is your armin. the same armin that happened to be in a relationship when you confessed. the same armin you left behind when you moved away.

the same armin that you are still pining after. you have not seen him since your confession. he chose his girlfriend over you, which was understandable.

in some fantasy world, he accepted your feelings and you lived happily every after.

that did not happen in this one.

"i'm a virgin too." you would have expected armin to have lost his somewhere along the line. he was handsome when he was younger although he was frail. but now, now he has filled out. now his shoulders are broad and his arms are carved with muscles.

"really? a pretty girl like you?" you jolt, still not use to speaking with him after the years that passed. especially hearing him call you pretty. he never called you that before.

"yeah." you swallow. "i never really thought about it." you fidget in your seat, tapping your finger on the coffee lid absentmindedly.

armin's hand reaches to cover yours, you look up and see ocean blue. but this ocean is dangerous and this ocean will draw you in and never let you out.

you would drown in it.

you have drowned in it once before.

"i think it was meant to be this way, you and me." he tilts his head with the sweetest smile, his lips are so pink, you find it hard to breathe. you cannot deny the fluttering of your heart.

you liked armin at a simpler time, when you were young and he made your cheeks ache with laughter. when he grasped your heart and made it beat.

it has to be destiny. it has to be.

like the stars aligned for you to reunite with him and have all the things you should have had before.

---

it was a lie. of course it was.

countless dates, countless midnight calls and loving talks. countless compliments and memories. you want to wipe it away. you trusted armin then, it was easy to trust him now.

so why are you here?

why are you here with his hands greedy all over your body, with so much experience it makes you sick?

why is he pounding into you like a man who is well versed in taking women?

he is inside you, you might not be a virgin anymore but his was long gone before tonight.

your eyes squeeze shut, turning your face away from him. you try, you really do. willing yourself to not be in this moment but it is so difficult when he is everywhere.

you can feel the heat of his spit staining your skin. his fingers squeeze every inch of your body that is left to his whim. he seems to crave memorising every inch of you.

your breasts, hips, waist, dusting your collar bones and gripping your neck. he does not leave any bit of you untouched.

how can he when he has desecrated your body and stuffed you full of his cock?

you can feel his breath and drops of his sweat as he fucks into you. you can feel the presence of his body over you. he has you beneath his shadow like a reminder of your place.

that you would have ended up like this, with him. whether you liked it or not.

you try so hard to ignore the thick heated cock that is being thrust into your leaking cunt, prodding your cervix and making your belly bulge.

your tightly shut eye lids do nothing to evade the fact that he is bare and throbbing inside of your cunt.

you are constantly reminded of how treacherous your body is with every squelch of your pussy and the liquid it is soaking him with.

your body is shaking, moving with every sharp and calculated hump of his hips against yours.

you are a muddled mess in his sheets, in his room, surrounded by his scent. your breath halts when you feel him lowering over you. his large, calloused hand tilts your head back, gripping your jaw.

"look at me." his voice is too sweet, it is what you would have thought before this but now you can hear just how crazed he is.

"open those pretty eyes and look at me." he grits his teeth, slamming his hips into yours so hard that it is painful.

your back arches with tension. tears leak from your eyes, clouding your vision of him but he is stroking them away and shushing you like he was made to be the epitome of kindness.

yet, he is fucking into you, stripping you of the virginity you prided yourself in. he is one big juxtaposition. so kind and yet so cruel.

he is goading you about the blood, about the amount of blood that is soaked over his entire cock just like the wetness dripping from you.

your face contorts in discomfort when his tongue dips into your mouth. "you're going to remember me, got me in your head and shaped to my cock." he grins.

there is blue eyes and blond hair. eyes you would stare into and finally feel safe, that shun with the most love you had ever received.

hair you would coax your fingers through to remind yourself he was there.

now, you are not quite sure where they went or if they were even real. he huffs a curse, shoving his length so harshly inside of you that you are scratching at his chest.

"it hurts." you cry, wishing he would be gentle like he had been before. wishing he would kiss away your tears and hold you close. you wish he would say sorry because you would forgive him.

but he does not.

instead he threads his large fingers in your hair, forcing your head back, it makes you hiss in pain, writhing under him with tears staining your cheeks.

"it's even, cause your pussy's squeezing me so hard it hurts." he smiles, voice completely mocking yours.

"loosen up." he crowds over you more, his tongue lapping over your swollen lips, your legs spreading more as he presses himself further against you.

"your cunt's so tight you're gna break my dick." he laughs. he laughs like this entire circumstance is some funny joke. it is a cruel one.

he is cruel but you hope and ache for him to be sweet again.

the tears you shed right now remind you of the day you told him you liked him and all he had to say was that he had a girlfriend. you were stupid then and you are stupid now.

you moan although you do not want to. you moan as his cock plunges into your sopping walls and your mind draws a blank.

"why didn't you wait for me? i was yours, i am yours. so why couldn't you give me two months, i wanted to make everything right and you left me." he grits, his mouth finding your neck to suck marks on your skin.

this is one of the happiest moments of his life. having you, being inside you. he had daydreamed about it. hearing you say 'i like you,' with teary eyes and the cutest voice was a moment he framed and kept in his heart.

he kept it at the forefront of his mind.

at that time, he wished he could have shoved those words back into your mouth. he wished he told you to wait. armin might be fucking you like he hates you but he does not. no, quite the opposite. he loves you dearly.

he could not break up with his girlfriend, he did not want to drive her to the point of no return. he was considerate of her so why were you not considerate of him?

he was going to be yours at the end of it. why did you not wait? why did you not be patient? it is all he wanted to ask of you. now years after. years without you. he has to punish you for it.

he has to. he loves you, he would never hurt you. but you hurt him.

his hands squeeze your body so hard like he needs to taint your skin in every way.

"this pussy is mine, always been mine. fuck, why would you keep her away from me?" your skin stings every time he presses back into you. your fingers knot in the sheets, gritting your teeth.

you feel it, you feel every bit of him. he sears through you and pulls your insides apart. you drip and leak and drench him although you wish you did not.

your mind is a mess.

your mind feels like it has been dismantled and put together in the wrong order.

it should not feel good. being stretched beyond your limit and having him touch you should be the last thing that feels good.

you spiral into depravity the longer he pounds into you. the longer his cock fills your aching hole and caresses your gooey walls.

his finger finds your clit and you jolt, his mouth meeting yours.

it is surprisingly gentle. it is surprisingly everything you ever wanted. he licks into your mouth, you feel too much. you feel too many things inside and have too many thoughts in your head as your body trembles and you cream on him.

as your cunt clenches and your stomach feels like it is filled with too many butterflies to contain.

"all fucking mine, fuck you're all mine. you're my baby." he breathily pants, his legs flexing as he fucks your through the overwhelming orgasm.

as your cunt grips and soaks him. all you think about is that he called you baby. he called you his.

you find yourself hoping he means it.

"so tight. how are you this tight?" his hands brutally grip your waist. "you kept it for me right? tell me you kept it for me." his cock pulses along your sensitive walls, you swear you feel him from the inside out.

"you knew i'd come and find you, you were waiting for me, weren't you?"

you are crying, the tears seem endless. they stream down your face and your sobs are watery.

why does he feel so good inside you?

why has he broken you to bits but still makes you feel whole?

some sick and twisted part of you was holding out for him, you were stupid to think he saved any bit of him for you too.

clearly he did not.

everything he does is confident, everything he does it looks like he has before.

he asks you so many questions and you do not answer a single one. even as he slams his hips to yours, even as you are dazed by the wet sounds of your pussy taking him over and over.

armin does not want to stop.

he curses.

his body lurching forward to cover you, shallowly pumping his hips. you feel it. you feel hot sticky strands pooling inside you and your teeth grit.

it makes you remember there was nothing between you and him. there was nothing stopping him from creaming your cunt and emptying his load inside you like he had been dreaming about for years.

he is covered in sweat, it drips from his blonde strands and trails down his temple. his hips stutter as he slumps onto you.

your face contorts in discomfort, you can feel your insides being sodden in unfamiliar liquid.

he lays over you, you want to clutch him to your chest and keep him close. you want to act like he never betrayed you. like this was the beautiful moment you wanted it to be.

you cannot move. you lay there, with armin weighing down your body and tears streaming from your eyes.

you feel him breathing, you feel him tilt his hips like he wants to ensure he has given you every last drop.

he presses a skin to your neck before he sits up on his knees.

you flinch as he keeps your legs spread for him to see, slowly easing his cock out of you.

all the cum that you could feel inside of you is now streaming from your slit endlessly. it us staining the sheets and your thighs and you can feel yourself getting sick.

nausea dizzies your head.

he leaves you there, sprawled out on his bed. cum on your body and a million emotions inside you.

he does not clean up himself much less you. instead he haphazardly wipes his dick with the already stained sheets and grabs a pack of cigarettes from his drawer.

"want one?" you cannot even look at him, you do not speak, you want to spend hours crying.

you wish to mourn the loss of all the things you had believed before this night.

"right, you're too good for this shit." he takes one for himself, placing it between the plush pink of his lips and lights it.

it seems there are many things he is used to doing.

"how was your first fuck?" there is no sugar coating, there is not an ounce of euphemism.

he leans against the head board, glancing over at your spent body before his free palm reaches over to you. you think he will pet your hair like he used to, dry your tears maybe even hold your hand but instead he is gripping the flesh of your breasts.

you squeeze his wrist the more he gropes you, wishing you could push him away, his touch should make you sick but it does not. it should make you hate him after everything he did but you do not.

a shaky breath escapes you. he places the cigarette to his lips.

inhale.

"i broke you in."

exhale.

"you can fuck as many guys as you want now."

you swear you stop breathing. your chest hurts and your eyes burn.

you struggle to compose yourself.

"a lot of em are talking about you." you squeeze his hand tighter. your body aches all over, you feel sticky and disgusting.

you sit up, cringing at the syrupy liquid that reminds you of it all. you practically drop your head into his lap, curling your legs closer to your chest before you start sobbing.

your shoulders shake and your sniffles are all too wrecked. as wrecked as you feel. as wrecked as he has made you.

armin's brows raise, still blowing out smoke before his hand rests on your back. trailing into your hair and petting you.

finally.

you should not want it, you should not want him to touch you, you should be pulling on your clothes and running away. you should be cussing him out but instead all you want is him close.

he stubs the cigarette before throwing it in the ashtray. his hands slip under your arms to sit you on his lap.

"who do you want to fuck?" you are crying harder, barely able to hold yourself up. your head slumps forward, hair hiding your face. but the loudness of your sobs is not something you can conceal.

"me?" you look up at him with the most miserable expression on your face. your eyes are swollen from crying and your lips are bitten raw.

yet you nod your head, you nod your head but it is not that question which you are answering, there are a million things you want to say but they do not come out.

instead they are broken cries, you have always wanted armin and for a minute he was yours but he broke you.

he betrayed you yet you cannot hate him. armin tries to dry your face but your tears are incessant.

he is so warm and he is so nice. his hair is pushed back for once and you find yourself thinking about how beautiful he looks.

he hums, pressing kisses to your face and tugging you into him.

"just you." you mumble. you only ever wanted it to be him. he squeezes you tighter.

"then, it will only ever be me." because you always get what you ask for.

his fingers lace with yours and you practically melt into him.

"just you and me."

i barely have time to write :((

[tenofmuses]

Free Witchcraft Resources for Beginners

A couple months ago I made a post shouting out the fact that witchcraft doesn’t require any money to get started (or to be practiced, for that matter), and I had a few people ask me about what they can do that’s free, especially as a beginner, so I wrote up this post. I was lost and broke when I was getting started with my craft, and it was really difficult to find tips for beginners that weren’t just “buy these things!” I’m hoping this will be useful for people who are looking for a place to begin.

So. You’re interested in witchcraft and would like to find out more. Maybe you keep seeing those “crystals/herbs/books/etc. beginner witches should have” posts, and you’re frustrated, because you want to begin your practice, but don’t have the money for those supplies. I was once in that spot, and even now that I’m five years into my practice, I have rarely purchased any of the supplies witchtok deems to be fundamental. Here are some places you can begin instead. Let’s get started!

Info continues below.

Foundations

By foundations, I’m referring to things that aren’t explicitly witchcraft, but that I have found very beneficial within my own practice.

1. Before anything, I recommend asking yourself a simple question: why do I want to practice witchcraft, and what do I hope to get out of it? You may not know for sure yet, and your answer will likely change over time, but having some intentions going in can be helpful when you’re in the early stages of research. When I was starting out, I felt very overwhelmed by the amount of info out there, so if you have a bit of an idea of what you’re specifically interested in, that can be helpful to get you going.

2. Meditation: not all witches meditate, but a lot of the skills you develop through meditation can be helpful within witchcraft. You can try out secular meditation (apps like Balance and Headspace, as well as Insight Timer—the former has a mix of secular and spiritual meditations), or you can find a witchcraft-specific guided meditation on YouTube. For neurodivergent folks out there, I recommend looking into active meditation, which I’ve found to be quite beneficial for myself.

For me, it’s always important to remain grounded when I’m doing any spiritual practice, and meditation is a good skill you can work on to help with that. I also find that having a background in meditation can be really helpful later down the line when/if you are attempting visualization and/or astral projection, witch’s flight, and so forth.

3. Journaling: another thing that isn’t specifically witchcraft-related, but is an important skill to harness, on my opinion. To me, it’s crucial to be in touch with what I’m feeling (especially when it comes to doing spellwork), and journaling is one great way to do that. If you’re stuck and don’t know where to begin, look up witchcraft (or general) journal prompts on here or somewhere else. A lot of the ones that come up will be shadow work, which can be intense, so only do what feels comfortable for you.

I’d also like to note that automatic writing/drawing is an entirely free option if you’re interested in communing with spirits or deities. Essentially it involves getting into a trance-like state (usually in a dark room only lit by candlelight or similar—this is to avoid distractions) with a piece of paper and pen, and you write or draw everything that comes to your head without thinking about it. And then you go back and see what sort of messages you may be receiving. It’s a bit hard to explain and I’m not very experienced in it myself, but it’s something worth looking into if it sounds interesting to you!

4. Look at what you have, instead of what you don’t: a lot of beginner witch resources will list specific items that you should have, without really explaining why. And without that knowledge of how/why having an item is important, you might find your Must Have crystal sitting unused on a shelf somewhere. So instead of focusing on the items you want or feel like you should have, look at what you do have. Are there plants or herbs in your house/yard that you feel drawn to? Do you have a collection of cool rocks and stones? How do these items make you feel?

For me, a large part of my craft is my belief in Animism (the belief that all living things have innate spiritual qualities, like a soul, spirit, or specific energy) and this can play into the way you interact with the natural world if it’s a belief you also subscribe to. Try and feel the presence of a plant to see if it gives you any specific feeling. It does? Great! Now you have a correspondance for that plant. And it’s even better than the correspondances you’ll get in a book because it’s based on your own personal connection and intuition. That’s what is most important.

5. When in doubt, use your intuition. You might find a source that says cinnamon should be used for protection. Another will say it should be used for abundance spells. What matters the most is what you think about an herb/plant/stone/colour, or whatever else you may utilize. I recommend to start keeping a list of what you associate these things with. It can take awhile to build up a personalized list, but once you have one, it’ll be a lot more useful than what a correspondances book says to do.

6. Scour your pantry and get cooking: are you wanting to try out a spell but you haven’t bought the ingredients? Look in your pantry. You may be surprised by how many commonly used witchcraft herbs you find in there. And if you have been starting to associate certain herbs or spices with specific feelings or energies, that’s a great way to get started with creating your own spell.

You can do a spell in many ways, but when I was starting out, one of my favourite ways was to incorporate a certain herb or spice into food I made. Say you’re making a soup and maybe you want a bit of protection, so you add some ground pepper with the intention of that pepper protecting you as you stir it into the soup. Same goes for any other ingredient you’d like to use. A little intention goes a long way!

7. Dedicate your actions, time, or energy: if you’re interested at all in working with deities, ancestors, and other spirits but don’t have the time/space to build an altar—or maybe you aren’t sure how involved you want to be with this part of witchcraft—you can devote an action to the entity. This can be simple. For example, when I worked with Apollo, I would use taking my meds and vitamins as an act of devotion to him. This is an offering. And offerings can be anything you want them to be. They don’t have to be expensive or fancy!

It’s also important to note that you do not need to work with deities or spirits to be a witch. You don’t even have to believe in them. Many witches are atheists or don’t work with any deities at all. But for those who are interested, simple offerings can be a good place to start.

8. Practice energy work: in my view, energy work is the most important skill to learn for your craft, since so many things build off of it. And with energy work, you don’t need to spend any amount of money on it. All you need is yourself, your intuition, and anything else—I mean that quite literally, you can practice feeling the energy of other people, pets, trees, buildings, foods, socks, your favourite pen, and whatever else you think of!

Once you get to know the energy of the things around you, you can more effectively utilize them as tools within your practice (this builds off of the intuition point I made earlier).

For example, as a child I lived in a house that was surrounded by cedar trees. It was a place where I felt very safe. To this day, when I see or smell a cedar tree, I feel safe and protected. You can read this any way you’d like—to me it’s both a spiritual and psychological phenomenon—but this is one example of sensing energy.

As a witch, you can practice that skill and use it to get to know the tools you’d like to use within your own craft (the things that connect to you personally, not what you’re told you should connect with). This isn’t an easy skill by any means, so if it doesn’t come naturally to you, that’s perfectly okay!

For more on this subject, I recommend two books: Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Kimmerer (more on animism in particular) and Psychic Witch by May Auryn (lots of exercises to practice working with and sensing energy).

Where to Go for Learning

After you’ve thought a bit about some of the above, or skipped it altogether if it doesn’t suit you, you’re probably wanting some good resources that will actually tell you how to do the witchcraft thing. But before that, I want to reiterate again that this is your practice, and you should only do what you are interested in. So take what you want and leave what you don’t.

I’m going to point you in three primary directions for learning good information: books, podcasts, and YouTube.

But first, I want to issue a massive disclaimer for the YouTube information (and some books, for that matter). You should not have one sole source for your information. Books that have bibliographies are always the most trustworthy sources. And even though I trust the information coming from the YouTubers I’ll mention—especially because I’ve read similar information in several witchcraft books—don’t take their word at face-value. Be critical of what you’re told. Believe what you believe. This is a skill you’ll learn over time. It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it will get easier to discern what’s good info vs. bad info, over time.

Before you get started, I highly recommend watching this helpful video by HearthWitch with info on how to vet your witchcraft sources: link.

Books

In my view, books are the Best source of information, period. Anyone can publish an article or video online, but not everyone can publish a book. So there tends to be a bit more reliable info in witchcraft books.

As far as knowing what book you should begin with, there are lots of lists out there for beginners, and I recommend just looking at one of those lists and picking what sounds interesting to you. Take what you like and leave what you don’t.

Most of the YouTubers I’ve listed below have videos recommending books for beginners.

If you’re interested in British folk witchcraft, I started out with Folk Witchcraft by Roger J. Horne and it was a brilliant beginners guide that I recommend to anyone who is interested in that branch of witchcraft.

As always, while you read witchcraft books, be critical of the information you are presented with. Unfortunately, lots of witchcraft books (especially the classic ones) can be rooted in concepts like bioessentialism, colonialism, and racism. My recommendation is to not take any author’s word as gospel and to use your critical thinking skills when reading witchcraft books.

Where I live, books are EXPENSIVE. And when you’re just starting out in your practice, you might not have the money or ability to go out and buy a book just yet. Maybe you’re still unsure if witchcraft is right for you. Or maybe you’re in the “broom closet.” Whatever the reason, here are some free places to find books.

1. The public library: a bit obvious, but a great resource to look at, because you never know what your library might have. Libraries are the best. And entirely free!

2. Library apps like Libby or Overdrive: especially helpful if you don’t want to bring home a physical witchcraft book, or if your branch doesn’t have any copies of what you’re looking for. You can also get some audiobooks on there.

3. Archive.org: aka the web archive. Entirely free and entirely legal, this works as an online library service where you can check out a book for a bit of time right from your computer. Sometimes you can download PDFs as well. I’ve found a lot of my favourite witchcraft books on there, so if you have a specific title in mind, search it there.

YouTube

First, as a bit of a caveat before recommending you to watch YouTube videos on witchcraft: in my view, books are the best source of information for any witch, as they are able to contain a large degree of nuanced and research-informed information. But books aren’t a simple solution for everyone, and I’ve learned a lot from informed YouTubers over the years (in fact, like many witches, I was first exposed to witchcraft via Harmony Nice on YouTube!).

I’m including a list here of witch YouTubers that I personally recommend because I have found that their content aligns with information I have read in books and other research-informed sources over the years, and because I find them to be generally reliable.

I want to note here that this list is rather biased, as I tend to watch witchcraft YouTubers whose practices mirror my own in some ways. So most of these practitioners have practices informed by European folk witchcraft, and are not very diverse as a result. If any practitioners have further recommendations to add on, especially for practitioners of colour and practices that are different from mine, please do so!

My recommendations:

ChaoticWitchAunt: folk witchcraft, specifically in the Italian tradition, some great beginner content, info on working with saints and spirits.

TheWitchOfWonderlust: death magic, spellwork, great beginner content, lots of excellent info on working with spirits.

HearthWitch: truly a well of information on British witchcraft, beginner videos on any topic you can think of, q&a livestreams, and there’s even a video on vetting witchcraft sources that I really recommend for beginners.

The Redheaded Witch: folk witchcraft and folklore, spirit and ancestor work, daily witchcraft ideas, some beginner videos.

TheGreenWitch: such an excellent resource for herbal/green witchcraft, videos on spellwork, ingredients, tools, and more.

Mintfaery: lots of beginner information, videos on working with the fae, nature witchcraft, and lots of fun witchy days in the life.

Ella Harrison: German folk witchcraft, great beginner resources, including some more niche traditional craft topics like witch’s ladders.

The Norse Witch: info on Norse witchcraft and Heathenry, Norse paganism, and some content about astrology.

simplywitched: lots of great everyday witchcraft content, pagan witchcraft, more vlog style.

Warrior Witch Nike: witchy book reviews, paganism, deity work, some astrology content.

Mhara Starling: the place to go for anyone interested in Welsh witchcraft and folk magic related to Wales.

Alwyn Oak: lots of witch’s guides, especially relating to sabbats (those popularized in Wicca), forest witchcraft, gorgeous videos.

Ivy The Occultist: chaos magick and lots of interviews with practitioners from a variety of paths/backgrounds.

Shadow Harvest: personal day in the life witchy content, some videos looking at working with dark goddesses and deity work in general.

Note: some of these YouTubers have written their own witchcraft books geared towards beginners, so if you enjoy their videos and want to learn more, check those out.

Podcasts

The Astrology Podcast: not specifically witchcraft, but if you want to learn about astrology in detail, this is an excellent place to begin. Link goes to YouTube.

Books and Broomsticks: all kinds of good info, especially pertaining to folk magic, witch guests invited on to share more about their own practice. Link goes to Spotify.

Southern Bramble: A Podcast of Crooked Ways: a variety of witchcraft related topics, interviews, and discussions, often revolving around folk magic and traditional craft—interviews show different traditions. Link goes to Spotify.

New World Witchery - The Search for American Traditional Witchcraft: what it says on the tin; various topics and conversations through an American traditional/folk magic lens by the author of the (amazing) book with the same name. Link goes to Spotify.

Salty Witches Podcast by Cat & Cauldron: traditional witchcraft through a modern lens, another podcast that has a wide variety of topics covered. Link goes to Spotify.

—

As always, if anyone has any additional (free!) resources to add onto these ones, please do so.

Good luck to all of the beginner witches who are embarking on their spiritual journeys, and I hope some of these tips have been helpful! :)

-Em

[autistichalsin]

I know a lot of people find it boring how much Halsin talks about nature, and I do get it- it is repetitive. However, I also find that if you break some of his statements down into what he's implying, you end up with something a lot more interesting. (ESPECIALLY because a lot of these support the "Halsin is autistic" interpretation.)

Take, for example, Halsin talking about his place in the world, specifically relating to relationships:

Halsin: I still have hot blood in my veins. Nature gifted us our desires, and the means to act on them. But we muddied its beautiful simplicity with rules, social strictures... clothes. So, I am not bound to nature. I am unbound in nature.

Halsin: Relationship? Such terms belong to civilisation - a little unfamiliar to my lips. You know what we share is more fluid, more founded in the principles of nature.

Implications: Halsin finds society too complicated. He enjoys nature because its rules are simpler and more sensical; rather than social rules and structures that are beyond him (especially when you take into account the autistic Halsin interpretation), he feels comforted by nature, which is complex in a way that he understands.

There's also Halsin's friendship with Thaniel.

Halsin: I had a friend when I was young, long ago. He played with me in the forests where I grew up... but eventually, I realised no one else had heard of him. It was Thaniel, of course. Nature was my very first friend. I get older, but he hasn't changed a day. I knew then that I had to be more than a companion to him. I had to be a protector.

Implications: Nature, by being Halsin's first friend, has always been what Halsin is comforted by. It has been a steady and comforting presence for him, something he can rely in, in contrast to other people who are unpredictable. Nature is consistent and comforting for him.

Halsin, infamously, is not happy in the city of Baldur's Gate.

Halsin: Too much noise, too many lanterns kept burning... nature's rhythm is ignored here.

Implications: Halsin is overstimulated easily by excessive noise and other sensory inputs. Nature provides him somewhere quiet.

Halsin: I wish... I wish there was a better way. I wish everyone could see the sun, have a full belly, and know nature as a friend. There is a balance that is yet to be found.

Implications: Again, Halsin sees nature- not just Thaniel, but all of nature- as a friend. A source of comfort and companionship.

Halsin: I think on [politics and high art] also. But nothing matches the splendour of an ancient tree.

Implications: Halsin loves the beauty of the natural world as much as anything else. Rather than art or music (which he can appreciate), what he prefers is something that grew rather than being made.

Halsin: I am... less anxious to find myself in a city. So removed from nature's power - I do not know how I will fare.

Implications: Not only does Halsin prefer not to be in the city, but he is actually, to some extent, frightened of it (likely due to how overstimulating it is for him), in contrast with his feeling of being right at home in nature.

There's other things to note as well. If a Dark Urge player embraces Bhaal and then tells Halsin to bow, Halsin has this to say:

Halsin: Nature bows to none. It will fight on and survive, no matter what madness your god has inspired you to undertake.

Implications: Halsin views nature as strength, and admires that very much. He draws a lot of his tougher qualities from this aspect of the natural world.

Or a line where Wyll gently points out that he talks about nature a lot:

Halsin: When you care about something deeply enough, it consumes every thought and word.

Implications: Halsin isn't thinking of little else besides nature because he's "boring"; it's because it's important to him. (A special interest, one might say.) And when something is deeply important to a person, they think of everything else in relation to that thing; think of a sports fan who constantly uses sports metaphors to understand the world around them.

There's another party banter with Wyll that is telling when combined with what he has to say about the city, too.

Halsin: It is most unfair to pour such scorn on rats - they have their place in nature, same as you or I. 

Halsin: I thought cities were supposed to welcome folk of all walks of life. Clearly I was mistaken.

Implications: Halsin feels everyone has a place in the natural world, yet that the city shuns those it deems different. As someone who has struggled greatly with fitting in/finding a place he "belongs", Halsin feels more sympathetic to nature, where all living things belong, than anywhere else.

I think that when you break up Halsin's love of nature into all the little things it implies, it paints a much more interesting picture of him, personally. It also supports the "Halsin is autistic" interpretation, which makes him even MORE interesting.

[kawaiikenna]

Another fic of mine! It was inspired by some comments on another fic. Here’s the link for the ao3 posting. Support it on there if you’d like. -w-

Danny had been summoned to many, many different places. Creepy warehouses with cloaked hooded cultists chanting? Yep. The produce area of an abandoned supermarket? Check. Several girls’ slumber parties ages ranging from 12 to 25? Been there, done that. Hell, he’s even been summoned by a group of boys for no other reason than one of them had to prove that his sister wasn’t lying when she said that they had summoned the Ghost King at her last slumber party. Yeah, that was fun. No, not really.

But a daycare? Or at least somewhere he thought was a daycare? Now that was someplace Danny had never thought he’d be summoned to. But there he was. Plopped into a group of maybe 10-15 kids. Not fully eldritch but enough for other ‘normal’ humans to become extremely unsettled or flat out scared. Horns spiraled out from the sides of his head, limbs too long and skinny to be considered human, his hands held spindly long fingers tipped with icy claws, his eyes were normal if not for the black sclera instead of white. He was wearing his normal black and white hazmat suit with a fur lined cloak hanging heavy on his shoulders. Danny said nothing as he stared, flabbergasted, at the small, young boy crying on the ground. He had a really bad skinned knee that was bleeding a fair amount. It apparently was enough blood to trigger the summoning circle.

There were several other children around the room. All of them had frozen and stared either at the boy, or, blatantly, at Danny. He was too tired to deal with this. He had other shit to do rather than babysit random ass kids that inadvertently summoned him. So Danny bent down and took a look at the kid’s knee. He was as gentle as possible.

“Hey buddy.” Danny says softly. “That looks like it hurts. Would it be ok if I fixed it for you?”

The kid didn’t say anything, more just nodded but Danny wasn’t sure if he could even hear him. So Danny pulled out his emergency first aid kit and went about cleaning and bandaging the boy’s knee.

“What’s your name?” Danny asks gently as he disinfects the bloody wound.

“James.” A soft whisper answers.

“Well you’re very brave James.” He responds.

There isn’t anymore conversation after that, but the atmosphere was more relaxed now that Danny had demonstrated that he wasn’t a threat. By the time he had finished the other kids were surrounding them. They all looked incredibly curious. A few of the braver ones had asked questions while Danny had been doing. He thought that even if he usually didn’t deal well with kids, he did a pretty damn good job.

Danny made to stand up but instead was tackled back to the ground by a tiny body. He looked over his shoulder to find a little girl clinging to his cloak with all her might. She beams brightly up at him.

“Are you here to play with us?” She asks.

“Uhh, no?” Danny answered, confusion lacing his words.

Apparently that was the wrong thing to say because now there was another child pouncing on his back and two more holding onto each of his arms. All at once they tried to talk. Some in complaining tones, others in curiosity.

“Noo! You should stay and play!”

“Yeah! You have to stay and play ‘cause that’s the rules!”

“Yeah! That’s the rules!”

“How come you have a cape?”

“Do you like hide and seek?”

“Why’s your hair white? Does that mean you’re old?”

“If you’re old does that mean you can’t play hide and seek?”

“No! I don’t like hide and seek!”

“Yeah! He should come draw with us instead!”

“How come you have horns?”

“Are you dressed up for Halloween?”

“Halloween isn’t for a long time stupid!”

“Hey!”

Danny’s head was starting to spin. He hadn’t eaten since that morning. The ghosts had decided to make his life a living hell and attack him every ten minutes. Now with this, this was the icing on the cake. Summonings had become somewhat more of an often occurrence. Not by much but enough that it still messed up his day. But you know what? Today is a day to just roll with the punches. So Danny did play hide and seek. He also did some drawings. He even let some of the kids try on his cloak. He even gave some of the older kids flights around the room. Danny had sent a text to the group chat somewhat explaining the situation before focusing again on entertaining the tiny children.

When he asked about an adult that was in charge; he got the answer of mommy and daddy are dead or they weren’t coming back. So he assumed that this was kind of like an orphanage. One where older kids took care of the youngers and everyone watched each other’s backs. That really didn’t sit right with Danny but there really wasn’t anything he could do for them.

So instead he entertained them and played with them. He didn’t know how long they played together, but it was long enough to where the majority of the kids were falling asleep. So he gathered up the youngest ones and had a cuddle pile. His cloak became their blanket. Some of the older kids joined them as well.

They had finally gotten the last little one to sleep when Batman kicked the door down. Danny managed to snag the door before it hit the floor. Green energy enveloping it as he set it down carefully. The hero marched into the room, closely followed by a young woman dressed in what looked like one of those ‘sexy magician’ Halloween costumes he had seen before. Now, if Danny hadn’t been so tired he would have been embarrassed by his reaction. But since he was half mad from sleep deprivation, and maybe a little hunger, considering how long he had gone without an actual proper meal, there were no such feelings. So instead of calmly telling them to be quiet as to not wake up the other kids and that he would explain later. He threatened the pair.

“If either of you end up waking up even one of the kids I will personally make it my mission to make you’re lives extremely difficult.” Danny hisses dangerously, eyes flaring protectively.

The three year old cuddled into his left side stirred slightly. Hazel eyes blinking blearily up at him. Immediately calling Danny’s attention to the little boy. “Shh, shh, go back to sleep Sammy.”

A content purr sounding from the halfa. The little boy, Sammy, did as told and went back to sleep. Danny goes back to glaring at the two adults. He hisses softly when the magician lady takes a step forward. A warning to the back the hell up. Surprisingly she does exactly that and Danny stops hissing. Though his eyes were still narrowed in suspicion.

Batman opens his mouth, probably to demand answers and information, but Danny cuts him short with a warning growl. “I don’t care if you have questions or want to know why or how I got here. I’m waaay to friggin tired to give you any kind of satisfactory answer. So just let me sleep.” A large yawn escapes him. “If you guys want to stay until nap time is over then be my guest.”

Danny then closes his eyes and focused on the children cuddling closest to him. Miranda curls more into his chest, face halfway pressed to his collarbone, and hums sleepily. Adam wakes himself up a bit with a sudden loud snore but settles right back into Danny’s right side, his head resting on the older’s shoulder. Sarah is still situated between his legs with her head lolled in Miranda’s lap. Suzie has her back firmly pressed to the outside of Danny’s left thigh. Sammy’s feet are just barely touching the top of her head. Danny let’s himself relax and bask in the kids’ sleepy emotions. Just before he falls off into sleep he cracks open an eye.

Batman and the magician lady are talking in hushed whispers in the opposite corner of his not so little cuddle puddle. He probably could have listened in on their conversation with his enhanced hearing. Nah, that would take too much effort. So instead he just drops off. This is something future Danny will have to deal with. Current Danny just wants to take a damn nap.

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 17

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n today's self promo is catskin which is a felix x reader fantasy/fairy tale oneshot that i am pleased enough with that i might write a part two. anyway, here's more of the drama you're really here for.

previous | masterlist | next

---

At 6:05 on the dot, there's a knock on your door.

He must have been up all night waiting for your text, you think as you answer it, the way that he'd made it down the stairs within five minutes of your alarm going off. You're still in your pyjamas, a hoodie thrown over the top when you'd dragged yourself out of bed to combat the early-morning cold of your apartment. 

The boys waiting outside your door are dressed similarly, at least, padding around in clothes they've chosen at random from a laundry hamper somewhere and shoes that they kick off as soon as they pass through your doorway. You're not surprised to see Chan, hair sticking up at every end like he's gotten straight out of bed for this and not bothered to even try to stick it back down again, but you are surprised to see Changbin. You don't think you've ever seen or heard a peep from Changbin at this time of the morning.

"Good morning," Chan says as you close the door, lingering within arm's reach as Changbin wanders his way further into your apartment like he's looking for something.

"Good morning," you echo, your attention divided between the two of them. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Chan hedges, hesitating like he's not decided yet what he's going to say next. "Changbin is here to steal your cereal."

"Hyunjin ate all of mine," Changbin says, his feet carrying him one step closer to the kitchen in question.

You wave him towards it, despite warnings you've been given against ever giving him free reign over your pantry. "There's eggs in the fridge too if you want them," you offer, and your heart lifts at the way his face lights up. It's funny how such a little thing could cause such simple joy.

"Gamsamnida, noona," he says, and disappears into your kitchen. 

Chan steps into your line of vision.

"What are you doing here?" you ask when he doesn't immediately say anything, though the pit in your stomach and the sleepless night unravelling behind you say that you already know the answer.

He draws in a breath and holds it, anticipation paling his face just enough for you to notice. "I'm being honest," he says, his eyes flicking up to the kitchen door. Changbin doesn't appear - he's busy making a lot of noise with your pans in there, the slam of a cupboard door a little too obvious to be anything but deliberate. "I promised I'd be honest with you, so...I'm here."

"About the things they're saying online, or what's going to happen next?" you question; and you don't miss the way that his face falls, his brow tightening imperceptibly.

"You've seen it," he sighs, as if he'd been hoping for something different.

A grim smile twists itself around your mouth. "It's trending," you point out. "It's kind of hard to miss."

"True." He looks away, eyes casting behind him to where Changbin is being deliberately noisy in the kitchen as he hunts through your cabinets for something. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" you question. "You didn't do anything."

"They're my fans," he says and then blinks, correcting himself. "Our fans - if something I've done makes them think-"

You've seen the messages he's talking about, the back-and-forth between fans debating whether this was his idea or something that had been forced upon him by the company. Always Chan - Chan's group, Chan's members, Chan's decision. If the trending tags were anything to be believed, the general consensus was that the Chan they knew and loved would never do this to them, nor would he endorse it. It was obvious that you had forced your way into the group, and at first opportunity he would drop you right back out again; if only they screamed loudly enough in opposition, JYP would give him that choice quicker.

You didn't find that daunting at all. There wasn't a black pit opening inside your gut every time you thought about it, the urge to get back to the practice rooms and gruelling hours of work scratching at your skin. 

"You're acting like you told them to do this," you tell him wryly, and the corner of his mouth quirks upwards. Nearly a smile, despite how sardonic it feels. 

"I definitely did not," he answers, a hand pressed to his chest in honesty. "I meant what I said the other day. You're one of my people now."

Inexplicably, warmth blooms in your chest around the icy cold that has had a stranglehold around your stomach since you'd first seen...well, everything that's happening. The reminder of the conversation you'd had before all of this began is timely - it was easy to forget sometimes, around the screaming of a thousand voices that it couldn't be true, that he had chosen you, in a backwards way. That all of this was only happening now because he'd fought with the company for you. Because he'd won the fight, a feat you've never seen accomplished before, in a long career of letdowns.

Your teeth grit together at the thought of those voices online, hiding behind screens as if they know anything about what’s happened in the last three months or even the past six years. You had forgotten for a while last night, all the things that Chan had said; you’d felt like throwing something across the room, God’s Menu playing over and over through a tinny speaker until your body moved without thinking. You’ve contained most of that rage since, under the assurance that none of them know what they’re talking about, and truly, you don’t think that you’ll really care at all as the days wear on; but still-

"Someone should have told them that," you say without thinking, and then watch as Chan's brow furrows. "Sorry. I didn't mean you. It's not your fault."

"Someone will," he replies. "Once I've been to this meeting with management. Which I am probably going to be late for."

His phone appears in his hand, the screen lighting up to show him the time. "If you have to go-" you begin to say, already moving out of the way of the door.

"He's eating breakfast first," Changbin says from the kitchen door before Chan can argue with you himself. 

"Am I?" Chan asks; but his voice is mild and his feet are already turning towards Changbin, all the fight draining from his body before he has even begun.

"You think I'm going to eat all of the eggs myself?" Changbin fires right back. "I'm not a pig."

"But I thought you were a pig, Changbin," Chan says and watches in amusement as the sound of Changbin shouting indignantly fills the air of your apartment.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids @hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts @puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night @d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk @minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification @starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002 @hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff @splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit @jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @slutfortits @duhgurl @cheshireshiya @keepswingin

[pascalispretty]

Come Take It Out On Me

Javier Peña x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2034

Warnings: enemies to lovers, snark, bondage, softly dominant Javi, oral sex (f receiving) (Javier Peña eats pussy like a champ), teasing

Summary: You and Javier may not know how to talk, but you certainly know how to fuck. (ao3)

Notes: Written for the lovely @survivingandenduring for the Space Sister's Valentines! The first fic I ever wrote on here was Javier Peña and enemies to lovers, and your prompt was such an inspiration to revisit that whole vibe. Also the song 'Good in Bed' by Dua Lipa was a major inspo. I hope you enjoy! (also unbeta'd because I cracked a bone in my foot, pls be gentle).

It’s late when you get back to your apartment. You had taken yourself out for a drink after work, dressing up in a tight black dress and a swipe of red lipstick. But the admiring looks and offers to buy you another drink irritated you more than they flattered you. Instead, you had made your way over to a payphone and punched in an all-too familiar number.

“Hey, Peña. You wanna come over and fuck?”

Not particularly subtle, but it got the message across.

Back home, you pour yourself a drink and settle in to wait. Your heels are pinching your toes, so you kick them off. You’re vaguely aware of the room becoming warmer, the heat clicking on as the temperature drops.

You’re topping up your wine when there’s a loud knock at the door. You nearly roll your eyes when you open it. Javier Peña has his arm braced against the doorframe, leaning into it like he’s posing for an advertisement for the tight Levi jeans he’s wearing.

“Hello, Javier. I was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about me,” you tell him, lifting your wineglass to your lips. He takes it out of your hand in a smooth gesture, draining it and shoving it back into your hand as he walks into your apartment.

“I wish,” he mutters, pausing to light a cigarette and helping himself to a glass of scotch from your bar. “I was late at the embassy; a knot needed untangling that had ‘CIA’ written all over it. The Castaño brothers seem to think you’ll hand them the whole country.” You top up your wine, smirking at him over the rim of the glass.

“You have a very misguided perception of what we do, Agent Peña. It’s not all toppling governments and hobnobbing with dictators.” Sitting on the armchair across from him, you tip your glass in a mock toast.

He sits with his legs spread apart, the tight jeans hiding absolutely nothing as he watches you. The silver-blue haze of his cigarette smoke hangs in the air between you, giving his features a strangely soft edge.

“Well, if anyone could find common ground with a dictator it would be you.”

“And yet, you’re here. What does that say about you?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him. It almost always starts this way. The two of you can’t seem to help needling at one another, determined not to let a jab go unanswered. He’s too holier-than-thou for your liking sometimes, pretending that the DEA’s hands are so much cleaner than that of the CIA.

Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, the two of you discovered that all that tension somehow translated into pretty phenomenal sex.

“It says that payday is at the end of the month, and I can’t afford my usual.” Peña says, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Besides, you buy the good stuff.” He drinks more of his drink, pulling the ashtray closer with his free hand. You appreciate that even though he doesn’t particularly like you, he draws the line at ruining your rug.

“What can I say, I appreciate quality.” You say nonchalantly. “Which is why you’re here right now, and not some random stranger who couldn’t find a clitoris with a map.”

“We all have our talents. Are you going to sit over there all night? Even I might have trouble finding it from that far away.” He says it casually, but you know him well enough by now to pick up on the undercurrent of need in his voice.  He’s not alone. That annoyingly familiar need had been making itself known in the pit of your stomach all night, that insistent itch that only Agent Javier Peña could really scratch.

You uncurl from the armchair, setting your wine down on the table. Javier looks up at you with those beautiful dark eyes as you settle into his lap. The seams of your dress strain to accommodate his body between your thighs, and you swear you hear a few stitches popping.

Up close, you can breathe the scent of him in. The leather of his jacket and the tobacco of his cigarettes mixes with something heady and masculine and him. You have no other word for it. You imagine that it would sell like crazy if somebody managed to bottle it as a cologne.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, looping your arms around his neck. He nods, eyes trailing down your body, lingering on the neckline of your dress.

“The view has improved.” He leans closer, pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast where your dress leaves it exposed. His moustache prickles the sensitive skin, his lips quick to soothe the scratch.

Your fingers slide into his thick hair. He’s still holding his glass and his still-lit cigarette, so after a moment he pulls away.

“I’d rather not light your rug on fire,” he says, leaning around you to flick the butt of his cigarette into the ashtray. With his now-free hand, he cups one of your breasts, squeezing gently. “You should wear dresses like this more often.”

“I’m sure that’d go down really well at work,” you tease, sucking in your breath as he hooks his index finger into the neckline, tugging it down further. The lace of your bra peeks out, the red vivid against the black of your dress.

Peña ducks his head again, trailing more kisses across the newly-exposed skin. Every brush of his lips is only making you wetter, even if he’s not doing much to encourage it. Bastard.

Though it’s not wholly unfair. You can feel him starting to harden underneath you, and you can’t help rocking your hips against him in encouragement. He nips at the curve of your breast, before leaning back.

“Take your dress off.” He gives you a little nudge with his hand, as if he wants you off his lap.

“So bossy, Peña,” you sigh, letting your nails scratch his scalp. You feel the shudder that runs through him, but he’s persistent.

“You like it when I’m bossy. Get up, and take your dress off.” He’s right. He might not know how you like your coffee or when your birthday is. But if there’s one thing Javier Peña knows, it’s what you like in bed.

You slide off his lap reluctantly, standing in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. While he finishes the dregs of his drink, Javier runs his eyes over you. There’s something so hungry in that look, like he’s deciding where to begin with a delicious feast.

The dress zips in the back, and you have to twist awkwardly to catch at the tab. With another man, it might make you feel self-conscious. But with Javier, all you can see is the want in him. The fabric loosens around your shoulders as you undo the zip, and you shrug the dress off in one fluid motion.

Peña casts an appreciative eye over your lingerie, leaning forward in his seat. When he reaches to set his glass down on the coffee table, he shifts so close that his hair nearly tickles your abdomen. A soft, disappointed sound escapes you when he doesn’t touch you, when he doesn’t take the opportunity to haul you back into his lap. Instead he just looks up at you, a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Gorgeous,” Javier murmurs, almost to himself. With one last lingering sweep down your body, he stands up. There’s barely an inch between you, your calves bumping against the edge of the coffee table as you shift back to accommodate him.

“Take me to bed?” You ask. Peña doesn’t say anything for a moment. One of his large hands comes up to cradle your jaw with a gentleness that never fails to surprise you. His fingers are warm on your skin, and you find yourself melting into his touch once more.

“Bed,” he agrees, his thumb gently sweeping over your lower lip before his hand drops back to his side. You lead him towards your bedroom, even though he knows the way by now. He’s been here more times than you can count.

At the threshold of your bedroom, Javier loops his arms around your waist. Your back moulds against his chest, his nose brushing your temple as he leans to whisper in your ear.

“Do you want the belt tonight?” He murmurs, and you nearly melt into a puddle at his feet. The belt is something Javier indulges you in occasionally. He’d drawn a hard line at bringing his handcuffs into the bedroom. The two of you had compromised with softer things; a silk scarf, his ties, a pair of stockings. And, of course, his belt.

“Yes please.” Your eyelashes flutter closed as Javier presses soft kisses down the line of your neck, humming contentedly against the skin. His clever fingers have your bra undone before you realise he’s moved his hands, and you let him slip it off you without complaint.

One of his hands moves to your waist, encouraging you to turn around. Every brush of his fingertips sends more warmth pooling in your core, the gentle brushes of his skin against yours making you shudder. Without him having to ask, you offer him your wrists.

Peña takes his belt off with one hand, a move that you’re almost certain he’s practised. It’s so attractive that you don’t even tease him about it. Instead, you find yourself taking a shaky breath as he loops the soft leather carefully around your wrists.

You could slip out with ease if you wanted to – it’s part of the reason Javier agreed to the belt as a compromise when you’d asked him to tie you up. You’re at a loss to explain why the buttery leather around your wrists makes you feel so good. Satisfied that it’s not too tight around your wrists, Javier gives you a small, but unmistakable, smile.

With a gentle push of his hand on your waist, Javier encourages you backwards until you’re lying on the bed, your arms stretched above your head.

“Que bonita,” he murmurs, settling himself between your legs. He’s still fully clothed, aside from his belt, and it makes you feel more exposed by comparison. One of his warm palms slides up your leg, squeezing the inside of your thigh before coming to rest agonisingly close to your core.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” One of his fingers brushes against your core, making you jump. “You’ve soaked your pretty panties.” The edge in his voice makes you whimper, your legs falling further apart for him. He slides your underwear off with ease, and before you can catch your breath, the warm heat of his mouth envelops your clit.

It’s nearly painful, how good it feels. His full lips wrap carefully around the bud of nerves, applying just enough pressure to make you wail. Your head is spinning with the pleasure of it, your world shrinking down to your body and Javier’s mouth. You clutch at the pillows above your head, moaning with abandon. Fuck your neighbours. If they knew Javier Peña, they’d understand.

He lets go of your clit and nuzzles against your slick folds, his tongue lapping hungrily at your flesh. The noises he’s making are obscene, muffled groans mixing in with the wet sounds of his mouth.

Then, as abruptly as he’d started eating you out, he stops. The loss of his mouth is devastating, and you’re about to wail at the unfairness when his hand slides up your body. His warm palm forms a loose necklace about your throat as he looks down at you, his chin wet with your slick.

“If I let you come while I eat your pussy, do you promise to let me make you come on my cock too?” He asks. He’s entirely serious; you’ve never met anyone who takes pleasure quite so seriously.

“God, yes. Knew I did the right thing by calling you,” you tell him, practically slurring your words. He gives you that smile again, a gleam in his eye as he trails kisses down your body.

“You can always call me, baby.”

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 13

Glorious Magnificent Goddess | Loki x Reader

You and Loki retreat to his hideaway to recouperate after your run in with Lugh. Loki helps you practice your magic again as well as rewarding you for your bravery. But how far can you really escape a God?

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, lots of praise, possessive Loki, making out, teasing, oral ( f receiving), p in v, cockwarming (if you squint), dirty talk but also…angst, emotional hurt/comfort.

A/N: This is mostly smut but there's definitely some plot there too. Please don't judge me for my terrible prophecy writing.

Also this chapter wouldn't have been written with nearly so much smut in it if I hadn't been so sexually frustrated reading @lokisgoodgirl 's The Lakes series. There's no little Tesco here and we're far from The Lakes but this chapter is dedicated to you :)

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

—

Somewhere between your sheer terror of being kidnapped and Loki’s sweeping rescue of you from the floor, you’d passed out. When you woke you were lying on a sofa in front of a roaring fire, the logs crackling merrily in time with the soft low hum of Loki’s voice. 

You turned your head to see him moving deftly around a small kitchen, pouring steaming soup into a bowl while he sang quietly. At first you didn’t recognise the words, but the more you listened and allowed the song to wash over you, the more you understood. He sang of home, of love and comfort, songs that spoke to the very bones of you until you melted into the cushions and blankets, at peace. Somewhere deep down your memories hummed back, even if you couldn’t remember the words yet. 

He turned, still singing the last of the tune, and smiled gently. In the firelight he looked shockingly ethereal compared to his domestic surroundings, his hair glossy and dark, tumbling about his shoulders in almost cherubic curls. The shirt he’d worn under his suit was now only loosely tucked into his trousers, the collar undone and his sleeves rolled up just past his elbows. 

“You’re awake,” he knelt next to you, cupping your face in his hands and drawing you close, kissing you so tenderly you thought you might still be asleep, dreaming of being awoken by Prince Charming. 

“Was I dreaming? We went on that stupid mission and it was awful -” you scrunched your face the memory. “Do you think it’s always that chaotic?”

“It wasn’t a dream, Darling, unfortunately. We were intercepted by someone.” 

It came rushing back, the man’s hands grabbing at you, the blinding light he seemed to be able to control and the spear he wielded. But then, you’d had a spear too, and armour, silver and velvet and flame. You looked down at your clothes, the armour was gone and in its place was one of Loki’s soft cotton shirts. 

“I knew him, I think. I saw a memory with him in, and my mother, they were friends. He said his name was Lugh and we were in his home, it was snowing - But I was younger then. And I saw one of the men who - who -” 

Loki placed a steadying hand on your arm, remaining by your side, his eyes darting over your face and searching for any trace of pain or suffering. “Hush, darling, let’s not talk of it now. You’ve had a trying time, rest and we can talk of it in the morning. 

“But I’ve seen him before, Loki, I have and-” You sighed, falling back on the sofa. “I wish I could just remember.” 

Loki kissed your cheek and moved back to the kitchen, “well, this Lugh, he frightened you and I will not tolerate that. Here, I made you soup, you should eat and get some strength back.” He placed the tray on an oak coffee table and piled cushions onto the floor for you to sit on. 

Sliding down onto the nest of pillows, you allowed yourself to look around the room, it was small but cosy, furnished with solid oak and thick, luxurious fabrics in velvet, knits and heavy wool plaid. Large cushions backed the sofa and chairs while the walls were lined with books old and new.

“Where are we?” You asked, blowing on the warm soup before taking a small sip from your spoon. 

“A secret place, a cabin. We’re still in America, if that’s what you were wondering. Those ridiculous spangled idiots showed up and blew our cover so I needed to retreat quickly. I can teleport, but not very far, and this was the nearest place I could drive to after we were far enough away.” Loki said, matter of factly, before joining you on the floor and dunking a thick crust of bread into your soup. 

“Hey, that’s mine,” you reached a foot out to kick him gently and he laughed, pulling it into his lap.

“Share, Ásynja , don’t be selfish,” he smiled, dipping again but offering you the bread between his fingers. 

“I didn’t know you lived anywhere else.” You’d always imagined that when he wasn’t at the compound Loki retreated to some icy fortress covered in black and green furnishings. Something dramatic and luxurious, you certainly hadn’t imagined a cosy log cabin. 

“I like to have a few retreats, a few bolt holes here and there. Plus Brunnhilde uses them from time to time when she’s on official business, hotels aren’t really her style, she prefers to deplete my stores of whisky and mead.” Loki didn’t look upset though, he seemed pleased to be able to offer somewhere comfortable and inviting. 

“I would’ve thought showing off in the lap of luxury would be right up your street.” You teased, Loki liked the finer things in life and there was no way you were complaining when he extended such luxuries to you too. But there was something so satisfying about teasing the god of Mischief. 

“Oh, yes, it is,” his smile morphed from playful into predatory, his voice dropping an octave into that rough rumble that made you melt, “but it’s the privacy we enjoy. We’re in the middle of nowhere, my Darling-” 

“And no one can hear me scream?” You joked, raising your eyebrows. 

“Exactly.” He tugged on your leg again, before reaching forwards and pulling you into his lap. Beneath the wool slacks he was already hard, the firm length of him straining against the zip. His shirt was loose on you, rucked up around your waist to accommodate your spread legs and you were mercifully bare beneath.  

“Loki,” you breathed, pressing yourself down into his embrace, moulding your bodies together. Between your thighs he throbbed, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through your body, reigniting your adrenaline. 

Loki’s large hands slid up your back, one splayed wide cupping your waist, the other on the back of your neck, tipping your head down so he could growl against your lips, “I love when you say my name,” he nipped at your bottom lip and you kissed back, sucking his tongue into your mouth like you were ravenous. “My Ásynja , take what you need my darling, I am yours, at your mercy, my breathtaking Goddess.” 

Together you fell backwards onto the rug, Loki breaking your fall and gently laying you down beside him. His hands ghosted down your side, barely touching you while his magic melted your clothes away leaving you both glowing in the firelight. 

“You were magnificent tonight, a true goddess of the Aesir, I -” His hands fluttered over you, his eyes trying to take you all in at once. 

You had never seen Loki lost for words before and it was a glorious feeling, knowing that you had reduced him to this. 

“I have to have you, darling, can’t keep my hands from you.” He growled, touching every inch of your bared skin. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you though, Loki.” You assured him, kissing along his broad shoulders, inhaling the rich scent of him, so close. 

“Ah, my darling one, I did nothing.” He closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feel of you, each kiss like a butterfly's wings brushing against his skin. 

“Wait-” You sat up, “you didn’t do anything?” 

“No, did you think I had some part to play?” He looked at you quizzically, “you think I conjured a burning spear? Silver armour?” 

“Well - I -” He curled an eyebrow at you, encouraging you to complete your thought. “I did that? That was me?” 

“Of course” he laughed out the words, surprised that you weren’t already aware. 

“Well. Okay.” You lay back on the rug and stared at the ceiling, unabashed in your nakedness, and Loki fought the urge to simply climb on top of you. 

“Hmmm, indeed.” Instead he traced his finger over your sternum and between your breasts, down to your belly button and then over your hip. Tingling goosebumps erupted in his wake and you watched as he skipped from your hip to where the bracelet he gave you still circled your wrist. “Besides, if I had created armour for you, it would be in green and gold.” He murmured, bending to place a kiss on the delicate skin below the bracelet. 

“Would it now, have you thought of how you’d dress me for battle?” Now it was your turn to lift an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t you show me how you’d prepare me for battle.” 

Loki gave you a predator’s smile before pulling you closer. “Too many clothes required for battle, darling, how about we practise the celebration instead?”

As you drifted in and out of sleep the memory of Loki’s hands on you followed your sleeping thoughts, his hands spread wide on your thighs, squeezing and kneading while he feasted on you, his body supplicant before you, worshipping as he’d promised. You writhed, rolling closer to him and hooking your leg over his. There was still a deep ache within you, a roiling of your magic needing release and bubbling to the surface in your whimpers and bucking hips. 

Loki stirred beside you and pulled you closer, your naked body was bed warm and soft compared to his perpetually cooler constitution and it felt good to be thawed by your presence. He cupped your cheek, turning your sleeping face so he could look over your features. There was still a tendency for your eye colour to shift without you realising, but everything else had settled and now every time he looked at you the same beautiful face shone back. 

He kissed you on your forehead, revelling in the gentle smile that spread across your lips, he kissed your cheek and nose, moving across your face until your eyelashes fluttered and you snuggled closer, fingers digging into his sides. Slowly, so slowly, he moved down your neck, pressing kisses onto your collarbone and nuzzling into the swell of your breast, he laved wet kisses onto your nipples, blowing cold air over the sensitive flesh just to watch them pebble and tighten before him. 

Loki’s kisses were featherlight, meltingly soft but you needed more, craved more. Light flared within you and, behind the grate, the fire crackled in response, burning blue and filling the room with light. 

He lifted his head watching you with lust blown eyes. 

“Incredible, my darling goddess, do it again,” he encouraged, kissing lower until he could nip at your soft belly, his thumbs pressing into your hips to stop you from lifting upwards. “Do it again and I’ll give you anything you want, name your price.”

“I can’t,” you whined, giving up on struggling in favour of looping your leg over his muscular shoulder. 

“You can,” he traced his nose lower, lower, the point of his tongue guiding him until he hovered over your aching core. “You can do it, Ásynja , you are powerful and strong, you control the fire, you control the light, show me, make me tremble before you.” His words were a whisper, a prayer, his eyes locked with yours despite the lewd poke of his tongue from between his pink lips. 

Frustrated you dropped your head back onto the rug and the fire roared again, the candles dotted around the room flickered. Between your legs Loki smiled again, murmuring something in the same old norse language that you were still trying to remember. But it was hard to care what he was saying when he was teasing you so deliciously, his tongue writing every sinful thing he wanted to do. 

“Please, Loki.” You hummed, tugging on the long strands of his silky hair in an effort to move him. 

“A moment more, my darling one.” He cooed, sucking on the inside of your thigh while his fingers entered you slowly, curling into your fluttering walls. 

“You promised me anything,” you gasped, heat pooling between your legs, Loki marvelled as your arousal slicked down his fingers. 

“I did, and what does my most wonderful Goddess require of me?” He asked, his voice hoarse with lust. 

“Fuck me, Loki- ugh,” he felt you clench around him, so soft yet so strong, and he knew he needed to have you just as much. “Fuck me like you mean it, I’m your Goddess, yours, take me, worship me, and make me yours.” You reached down and squeezed his hard cock as you spoke, watching his mouth fall open at the pressure.

With a growl, Loki prowled up your prone body, hooking your leg around his waist as he settled over you. All you could see was the curtain of his hair, the sharp lines of his face and his glittering eyes. The swell of his cock between your legs was hot and heavy, a tease of what was to come. It felt like it had been so long since you were alone together that you were desperate, clawing, inching your hips up until he was notched at your entrance, waiting. 

“Please,” you begged, breathlessly and he slid home in a single thrust, filling you to the brim and binding you together. “Oh! Loki!” 

“Yes, that’s it my darling,” he began to thrust, rolling his hips to rub against your clit with every movement. “Say my name.” 

“Loki, Loki, Loki.” His name became a chant in time with each thrust. “I’m yours, oh my god, never let me go.” You buried your face in his neck, sucking a bruise into the delicate skin as he ground against you, locked together so tightly he could barely pull back before you were bringing him closer again. 

“Never, I’ll never let you go, you’re mine now. All mine,” he panted, the feel of your lips and teeth a blissful pain, “and I’m yours, all yours.” The flames roared, their reflection catching in the glass of the lamps artfully dotted around the room, painting the walls in jewelled colours, emerald, sapphire and ruby red. 

He sat back, pulling you into his lap so he could kiss your chest and hold you closer. You moved together, riding towards your release as if you were charging into battle, never close enough, never fast enough, chasing your pleasure while Loki looked at you in awe. 

With a final roar he buried himself inside of you and the banked fire of your desire burst forth consuming you both. In the fireplace the flames licked out onto the hearth, the candles flared and blue flames encircled you both. 

Loki pulled away, his eyes tracing over your face as he always did, checking that you were happy and safe and smiling giddily as he was. And then he saw the flames, swirling like ribbons in the wind. 

Guiltily you tried to pull away, but he held you firm, still deep inside of you and as he caught your gaze again you felt him throb against your sensitive walls, “magnificent,” he murmured, before tipping you back against the carpet and continuing his worship. 

The morning came too soon, the mist that danced between the trees faded as it got closer to the cabin windows and you let out a puff of hot air against the pane. You set your cup of coffee on the side and drew a heart in the condensation, smiling as it turned green and gold as the rising sun beyond touched the tops of the pine trees in the valley. 

On silent feet, Loki crept up on you, circling his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder where your shirt slipped away from your collar. Here he planted a wet kiss, squeezing you tighter when you giggled from the sensation. Between you both, you wondered if you’d ever have need to go clothes shopping again. With a flick of his wrist Loki had sent his suit into oblivion and had manifested a surprisingly sensible pair of dark jeans and a sweater. To his own surprise, try as he might, he couldn’t make it green and instead the fibres continued to insist on a rich, dark blue colour instead. 

“Loki,” you chided, but you didn’t push him away, your body sought him at all times, reaching for his touch, so you allowed him to set his feet between yours and settled his hands on your hips. 

“Darling, we should talk about what happened, now that we’ve had time to rest.” 

Loki led you both out to a small covered porch at the back of the cabin, it’d been too dark to see your surroundings when you arrived but now you could see over through the trees to an open vista. A lake took up the majority of the valley, tailing away into a rushing river at its furthest point. Both sides of the valley were covered in dense trees, golden brown patches in the late autumn and dark green pines knitting together the amber canopy, the mist still rose from them while you settled into an old swing chair. The view was incredible, stealing your breath and your words as Loki settled beside you. 

“It reminded me of Norway,” he said, casually, “and so I had to have it. Especially as things became so -” he waves his hand, “messy, in Asgard.” 

“It’s beautiful, I could stay here forever.” 

“As could I, darling, but we must address what happened. This isn’t the first time you’ve been attacked and I grow concerned it could happen again.” Loki was rarely so serious, even in the early days of your training he had been playful and coy, teasing your abilities from you. 

You sat in silence, sipping your coffees while you thought of how to proceed. 

“So, I suppose we start with the obvious, we know one of the players in this game now,” Loki said, decisively. “Lugh, it is not a pantheon I know well, though my father was always respectful and my mother knew various members. Though it is possible when my memories were taken, I forgot about other gods as well.”

“I suppose... I don’t know why he’d pretend to care now when he had me happily locked away like some fairytale princess.” You huffed. 

“He mentioned your mother? That they were friends? With your mother gone, we could assume he is trying to act on her behalf, protect you as she would.I know my father often behaved in such a manner, keeping secrets when he ought to have told the truth, and then calling it protection, kindness.”

“Do you think - do you think he was the one who kept me locked up as well? Despite it all he didn’t seem like he wanted to be violent, I can’t understand how anyone working for him would be violent when he could have killed us both there and then. And then there’s the boy.”

Loki looked at you, his head tipped to the side. “The boy?” You had mentioned the boy earlier as well, but he had thought you were simply delirious. 

“When he touched me, Lugh, I saw a memory of us together. My mother and I were at his house, he was kind and gentle. He encouraged me to go outside and play with a boy, it seemed like I was - happy?” You stared into the trees, hoping some clarity would emerge inside you to stop the churning feeling in your stomach. 

“I learnt a lot from my father and one of the most important lessons he ever gave me, well, I don’t believe he intended to teach this as a lesson. But I learnt to never trust his mood. One minute he would love me and call me son, the next he would send me away for decades at a time. I would counsel against trusting Lugh, if he’s lived as long as Odin, the time has eaten away at what’s left of his sanity and I don’t doubt he would be kind to you in one moment and lock you up in the next.” Loki shrugged, melancholy at the memory of Odin, and then took a long drink from his mug. 

You looked over to see a sad smile tugging at his lips, as if making fun of Odin was easier than the honesty of his statement. 

“Perhaps - but, I recognised his eyes, the boy. I saw him again, he came for me. After I got away from those Asgardian’s, he tried to get me to go with him and I refused. He told me to stop using my magic, just as Lugh did, and then I was taken again by - hmmm.” 

“If he warned you against the magic and then you were taken again, perhaps it was not Lugh who kidnapped you.” Loki raised his eyebrows and you nodded, silent and contemplative, already wondering the same. “Perhaps he really was trying to protect you?” Loki still hadn’t told you about the sigil he’d seen, about how he knew who your last captors were. How would he explain to you that your betrothed was out to find you? He had no memory of that war between the Aesir and the Vanir, how could he spoil what was growing between you with a fear like that. 

“Perhaps. I just wish there was something in my past I could trust and believe in.” 

He felt sick lying to you, even if it was by omission.. Loki had promised himself that he would protect you and he would, for now you needed comfort and peace more than you needed the truth. 

You lapsed into silence, finishing your coffee and setting it onto the wooden porch floor. The quiet washed over you, the sound of the water and the rustling trees, even the calls of the birds felt perfectly placed to put you at ease. 

After a while, Loki spoke again, quiet and low with that same serious voice that was so unfamiliar. “I still loved him, Odin, though he kept many things from me. Just because things are confusing now, doesn’t mean your happier times are forgotten. You used to speak of your Grandfather and now - well - there has been no mention of him for some time. You are allowed to miss him, and your life before this. It is no slight against me for you to have enjoyed happier times with others. I only wish for you to be happy again now.” 

Emotion welled within you, “I do still think of him. I miss him so much, even if - I know, I know he wasn’t real. But he was real for me. He was kind.” You stuttered, reaching out for Loki’s hand to ground you. 

“I’m glad.” Loki squeezed back, tangling your fingers together and he held you as you cried “ I think we should consider going back to Tønsberg , to show Brunnhilde what you saw. Perhaps she has some more answers, now that there has been time to think.”

“I thought we were supposed to rendevouz with the team again?” You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks, “won’t they be looking for us when we didn’t meet to swap cars?”

“Well that’s what we were supposed to do, but they’ve got their item now, I thought we could enjoy some time together here and then, when you’re ready, I shall take you home.” Loki put his arm over your shoulders and held you against his side, the deep scent of amber still lingered on him, mixed with the crisp, clean, scent of pine. You tucked your feet up onto the seat, leaning your weight into his warm, strong body and allowed yourself a moment of peace to think of it, a home for you and Loki.

You hadn’t felt as safe and secure since you first left your flat, any time the God was in your presence you felt at peace, content with the world and your place in it. Loki was right, you needed some time together, and practising your fire skills was exactly the kind of cosy activity the glowing hillside and crisp air required. 

You whiled away a few more hours, snuggled together in the early winter air, Loki created a small green fire that glowed in front of you while you practised sending blue sparks dancing around the edge. 

Inside the cabin the fire smouldered, warm and inviting. Wood stacked by the fireplace shuddered and a single log rolled off onto the floor surrounded in white light. 

Distracted outside neither you nor Loki watched the divine woodwork taking place inside as the log slowly became smaller and smaller, leaving chips of wood in it’s wake. Finally, after an hour of craftsmanship, the light faded and left behind a small wooden box. It grew hot, as it sat before the fire and opened, revealing a misty mirror inside, and a swatch of delicate lace wrapped around a glass sphere. 

The lace unravelled, allowing the marble to roll away from its container, bumping against the back of the sofa and coming to a stop before the fire, heating up and then cracking, releasing the secret inside. 

A soft voice escaped, “I saw a vision of a flock divided, a tup of pure chaos and a ewe of love, a ram standing watch, a singular lamb frolicking, a lamb with a fiery fleece. It has burnt the farm. But from the ashes rises lush land, strong crops and healthy babes. I have told this vision to my husband, and Lugh, he does not believe me when I say she is no threat, he believes this to be a prophecy of Ragnarok, he cannot see the verdant land beyond the fire. You must hide the girl, my friend, I can protect her no longer.” 

Frigga’s voice, lost to the mortality that even the seemingly infinite possess, faded into the quiet of the cabin. 

And outside your chatter continued obliviously, happy and full of love. 

<< Part 12

Part 14>>

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

This is Peter's "move your arm before I kill you" face 😄 aka his "I only agreed to stand here to make my aunt happy and would rather be anywhere else" face.

EDIT: decided to change the eyeshine color lol

closeups and a bonus doodle below:

say cheeeeese!!! (left to right: flash, janine, aracely)

I realized while drawing this that I accidentally put the boys in left-to-right order from least- to most-fucked up face 😂 Ben and his perfect nose 🙄🤣 IDK what he's saying but probably something engineered specifically to make Peter mad.

He's smiling. 🙂💢 See? Busted nose. Turns out I also put them in order of "least to most traumatized," now that I think about it... Peter is a little less uptight by 2016 but... only a little. He might even not be wearing the costume under his clothes.

I know you're probably thinking "how the fuck is Ben less traumatized than Peter?" but in this case it's true. Ben is the most well-adjusted of them all. Comparatively.

Kaine is definitely wearing his costume under his clothes. Head to toe coverage, no skin except face and hands basically ever. When I sat down to sketch this pic this morning I realized that he probably doesn't like having his picture taken, because he has very bad self-esteem (understatement) and lots of scars, but probably also for Warren reasons, as essentially an ex-lab specimen. So he's hiding.

His hair would be in the process of growing back out from a buzzcut, if it's November 2016... so a bit longer than his shoulders, most likely.

If it wasn't like, May's idea to take the pic and Janine w/ the camera Kaine would not be tolerating this. He'd either leave or break the camera LOL but... if May wants a pic... he can at least pretend to be in it.

Miss Maybelle... The only one in the pic who doesn't have anything weird going on (ah, her strange nephews and their strange eyes). She has an O2 tank though. Her lungs are not very strong after 2012 because ummmm... Kaine stabbed her in the chest. (He apologized, it's fine 😓😅)

Ben's tan lines 😂 peter has 'em too but Peter is all covered up obv. Peter's neck tan line is actually way higher up though, because his costume has a higher neckline so he has to wear higher collars/scarves/whatever even if he rolls the neck down. But (not pictured) Peter's arms are more tan than Ben's because Ben's Scarlet sleeves are longer than Peter's Spidey sleeves. Obv Ben isn't wearing (the top of) his costume in this pic though. and they can both roll the sleeves up anyway.

That's the watch Peter got May for her birthday in 2007 btw. Actually the color is wrong because I didn't bother to check my own #lore but also because I almost forgot to color it at all (lol whoops) so I was just like. It's purple, I remember that much. But the strap is supposed to be "pale violet linen."

I also almost forgot to draw Peter's wedding band entirely 😂 Luckily I remembered! lol

Kaine is wearing a kilt, by the way (over jeans or leggings or something probably... well, maybe not leggings if his costume is underneath...) My goal is for him to find a different way of expressing his masculinity. related to why i am sticking to pink for his theme color (for costume etc.) and letting him grow his hair back out. I think he probably has some genders going on but not in the way that Flash has. He's not a girl. More like he wants to be nothing at all... null gender... etc... but also he doesn't have the language for that and would likely push back against it because of the way he was treated by Warren and the issues he has with like. personhood and manhood... but experimenting with (expensive) clothing is a way for him to explore his own autonomy in spite of that treatment and a way to learn to hate himself a little bit less, maybe, even though he's still very insecure.

he also has a "nazi punks fuck off" shirt, but... he wouldn't wear that to thanksgiving with aunt may... probably. I'm sure his leather jacket is around here somewhere...

i picked thanksgiving arbitrarily btw 😂 it just made the most sense as a reason for may to force i mean ask them all to come over and get pictures and stuff. kaine leaves nyc in 2012 following ben and only comes back for good in 2016, but when he and aracely first come up in the summer there's a bunch of stuff happening so it makes sense to do fall, once it's settled down...

May: Oh, by the way Peter, I invited your... brothers... to Thanksgiving. Peter: You did WHAT?!

[wolfythewitch]

do you happen to have any more thoughts on the what-ifs of odysseus?

like a continuation of the sketches of ghost Odysseus or something

Oh!! I do have a short thing I wrote, basically where I got the captions from haha

I'll put it under the line. It's mostly just word vomit because I was thinking about it too hard and couldn't properly draw it out

Tw for description of death

Here is what death feels like:

It is agony. Death makes a home in the spaces of your ribcage, winds around the walls of your chest, and roots itself into the skin on your bones. It is a memory, it is a pull, it is an emptiness that seems as vast as the sea.

Death isn't an absence, it's a remembrance.

Odysseus is dead. Or he isn't. We don't truly know when he makes the transition from living to dead, from breathing to still. One moment, his heart beat in time with the world and the gods, and then it stopped, and that was that. He will tell you otherwise, and you must believe it. After all, a corpse does not move. He is right. Odysseus is an anomaly. He isn't right.

We do not know how or when or why. The people who might have known are now long gone, sunk somewhere on the ocean floor, and the only one alive to testify thinks himself a living man. See, it isn't really important though, is it? He was alive, and now he's dead. Or perhaps he is neither, perhaps he's something much worse.

The damned man drifts at sea, and water flows through his bones and down his throat. He chokes on it. Salt clings to necrotic skin. His gaze is dull, his eyes sunken. He has them pointed on a single spot in the horizon, doggedly leaning forward as if it could propel him faster homeward. It doesn't, and he's a fool to think so, but it soothes him.

His tongue is rough and rimmed with salt. There is blood under his finger tips, so dark it looks like tar.

He prays. Silly, the gods don't listen to the dead.

An island appears from the mist. It looks too good to be true. Ah well, it's not like you have anything to lose.

Here is what death looks like:

He looks like a shade, like a monster, like a corpse. His skin is pale under his cloak, his eyes hooded in shadow, his cheek sunken. In the light, all you can see is teeth. His legs are red with blood and it's the only color to paint him. The courtyard is littered with the body of the dead, eyes open in screams that will never sound. Twelve nooses are pulled taut underneath the trees, white feet swaying in the wind.

Death walks among them, and he smiles.

Here is death:

He lives in Ithaca, nestled in its heart. He is a haunting, he is a ghost.

The king is home. This is cause for celebration. Music rings through the kingdom for seven days straight.

The queen and the prince attend the festivities. They are withdrawn but happy. The kind is nowhere to be seen, but that is to be expected. He's had a long journey.

There is talk, once a month passes by. They rarely see him, and when he makes an appearance, his hair is drawn and wild. His himation is pulled close around him. His fingers are bony and thin. He does not look well. There is talk.

The servants gossip, when the royal family do not listen. They speak of the walls, of the smell of rot that followed the damned man home. It grows too strong to stomach. They've taken to hanging mint and herbs to try and cover it up.

Water seeps through the cracks in the walls. The floors are constantly slick with water. Puddles pool in the stone.

The queen only smiles and waves away their questions. The prince is not so merciful. Any rumors are nipped at their source. There is a coldness to him. It is strangely close to fear.

The king is nowhere to be seen. Somehow, this was the most familiar.

Here is where death goes to die:

An oar, a winnowing fan, a sacrifice. He kneels and pushes the oar into the soil, whispers a prayer through cracked lips.

He does not get back up again.

[felassan]

David Gaider on Twitter: "Going through my old DAI files and came across the original plan for a playable post-credits Epilogue... which, due to time constraints, eventually got down-scaled to the post-credits cutscene you saw on release. A lot of the meat here was, I believe, resurrected for Trespasser." [source] "At the time, I was pushing hard for an actual denouement - as opposed to always ending the story so abruptly after the climax. Considering how few players ever get that far, I suppose I can see the argument that it's not exactly a great place to focus resources. I did like where the cutscene ended up, mind you. A nice, Marvel-esque stinger that hinted at story to come. Took the sting out of having yet another story plan go awry... which is simply par for the course for game dev. Writing can always imagine more than we can produce. ;) And in case anyone wonders: no actual work was done on that playable section prior to the cut. You can imagine it being this fully-fleshed out, glorious thing, if you like... but it could just as easily have been half-baked and terrible. The team was fully stretched as it was." [source, two, three]

Some further info from follow-up tweets -

User: "It's a bummer, though I understand the logic. A proper end to cap off the experience can make or break your enjoyment of the full game though, imo" DG: "That was indeed my argument. There's a point where we have to draw the line and finish the story, however, and I'm afraid the original plan was... mmm a mite too big. This was far from the only cut."

User: "WAIT. Am I reading this right… Solas drains Flemeth and then COMMANDS the Well of Sorrows drinker to kill Flemeth?" DG: "I think it was Flemeth who commanded it. I'd have to look through the whole document. It's complicated. Part of why it was eventually cut, probably."

User: "Hold on. We were to kill Flemeth on Flemeth’s command to, possibly, prevent Solas from taking everything? Was passing whatever energy she did to the Eluvian her way of preparing for survival ?" DG: "I don't think it was going to be explained any more than it was in the cutscene you got, tbh."

User: "My WoS Lavellan is SCREAMING rn god please help her in the next game" DG: "Keep in mind that none of this *actually* happened. ;)"

User: "Interesting to see this was envisioned as having adversarial encounters between Solas & Flemeth with the well-drinker being ping-pawned between them. I noticed the Inquisitor lurking off-camera in that cutscene and wondered if they were originally meant to be part of it." DG: "Heh. I'm pretty sure the Inquisitor being placed there in the actual cutscene's level was because a player had to be present *somewhere*. Might be wrong, though." John Epler: "the way the cinematics worked, if you had them firing too far from the player character the engine would try to optimize and cutscenes would start jittering" DG: "Yeah, I thought it was something like that! Thanks, John."

User: "Does this have any link to the fact that there are dialogue audios of Morrigan reacting to solas “absorbing” Mythal in the game files?" DG: "Possibly? I finished writing the epilogue, so it's possible some of it got recorded prior to the cut."

User: "So Morrigan would've finally gotten to kill Flemeth herself, and nobody had to turn into a dragon this time? Also, this clears up what even happened to Flemeth at the end. She's definitely dead. Presumably, the spirit or essence of Mythal and possibly Urthemiel are inside Solas?" User 2: "does it? it can be theorized that flemeth commands the inquisitor/morrigan to kill her so solas wouldn't be able to take all her essence. regardless, in the ending we did get it's not entirely clear what happened. but i doubt she's truly gone. she cheated death before." DG: "And remember that what this stuff points at never actually happened. Whatever becomes of Flemeth in the future is up to the current writing team, and is based only on the cutscene you saw."

Summerfall Studios: "Our creative director davidgaider shares some insight into how Dragon Age: Inquisition's epilogue evolved over production" DG: "You want "evolved over production"? *cracks knuckles* Lemme tell you how we cut Corypheus attacking Skyhold. Now *that's* evolution."