#and when he does he acts like he’s some benevolent god who had to step in cuz we’re too incompetent to do it ourselves

[mooseonahunt]

As a kid, I used to be terrified that I’d be the reason my parents got divorced. As an adult, I’m kinda tempted to be the reason by whispering to my mom “you should leave him” any chance I get

[ejzah]

Can you do a Drabble where someone from the team scolds Hetty for what she put Deeks and Kensi through in the past like their separation.

A/N: Oh look, a chance to unload some feelings. Fair warning, this is probably quite different than what you imagined, contains a bit more than a scolding, and is fairly dramatic.

Title adapted from one of Nell’s lines in “Mother”. This also takes place sometime post “Mother”.

***

When You Play God

Nell set a completed set of files to the side, checking over her list. She’d signed off on all the month’s expense and mileage reports while Eric ran some searches, and if she timed it right, she just might have a chance to warm up her coffee before tackling yet more paperwork in between fielding calls with Eric.

She offered him a smile as she held up her half-full mug of cooled coffee, and marched downstairs. Luckily, there was still a fresh pot (god bless Eric) and she filled her cup up, adding a healthy pour of cream.

“Ah, Miss Jones, just who I was looking for,” Hetty said, appearing behind Nell unexpectedly. Nell turned just enough to acknowledge her, picking up her mug of coffee and a stack of files she grabbed along the way. “I need you to find something for me.”

“I’m a little bit busy right now, Hetty,” Nell responded evenly.

“I understand that, but this is important.”

“So is all the work I have waiting for me in OPS.

Hetty leaned back slightly, eyes widening behind her glasses. Nell thought she looked particularly tiny in a her tailored suit.

“Have I don’t something to offend you Miss Jones?” she asked softly.

“Oh no, nothing at all. You just left me in charge, again, without any position real authority while you go off to who knows where,” Nell said ruthlessly, fingers clamped so tightly around her mug, ached. “Do you think you can just pop back in whenever you want and expect nothing to change?”

“I only give as much as I think my agents can handle, Nell. You must know that I care about you and would never do anything to purposely harm you.

Nell made an incredulous sound and spun around. “You’ve spent years manipulating all of us and yet you have the audacity to act like the benevolent parent. Do you even know the damage you’ve caused? The last three years alone, you’ve just disappeared without warning, leaving messes behind, then returning to cause more chaos.”

“Unfortunately, some being a leader requires difficult decisions,” Hetty replied with the same sense of confusion and patience one might reserve for a petulant child. It enraged Nell even more.

“Really? So, when you separated Kensi and Deeks while he had just started to recover from what Sidorov did to him kept you up at night? You let them believe it was because of their relationship. Was that done with good will?”

Without realizing it, her voice had risen steadily, loud enough that anyone walking by would hear, but she didn’t care.

“Let’s not even get into sending Kensi to Afghanistan without telling her why, which ended up in her being kidnapped and tortured.”

Hetty’s mouth dropped open slightly, and Nell felt a dark pleasure at her discomfort. She took a step back as Nell advanced on her.

“What about what you did to Callen and all those other children. Akhos tried to destroy you and everyone around you.” Her voice trembled, now a whisper as he jabbed her finger at Hetty. “Does that keep you up at night?”

Inhaling shakily, Nell crossed her arms over her chest, in a futile attempt to quell the tremors running through her body. In front of her, Hetty hunched, and defeated. Nell expected to feel a certain vindication, but any satisfaction had evaporated.

“I didn’t realize it had come to this,” she said with a shake of her head. “There was one time when you wanted to be like me.”

“That was when I still trusted you. When I still believed that you had our best interest in mind. When I was hopelessly naive.”

“I am so very sorry that I made you feel that way. I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do to earn your forgiveness.” Hetty gazed at Nell, her expression suggesting she already suspected the answer.

“No,” Nell told her simply. “This is the price you pay when try to play God, Hetty. You lose everything.”

Hetty sighed heavily, the closest she ever came to regret, shining in her eyes. “I see. I will let you return to your work, then.”

She turned, moving slowly towards her desk. A heaviness settled in her chest, but she ignored it. “I’m sorry too,” she whispered, sad for what used to be and what could never be again.

***

A/N: As I said, this one got away from me and took an entirely different route from the prompt. It just worked out to give this one to Nell, who seemed so very disillusioned with Hetty.

Thanks for the prompt!

[last-flight-of-fancy]

Hallima and Halone

Timeline: Myths of the Realm Raid Series

There is a certain level of absurdity that Hallima's life has reached when meeting the Gods Themselves ranks as only in the top five strangest things that has happened to them.

It's strange and awkward and feels like hearth and home in a myriad of ways. They are kind and distant and ephemeral. Hallima doesn't know how to feel about them, so they don't think about it, instead treading moment to moment as needed. It works, mostly.

There is one in particular though, where the feeling is more confused than the rest.

When Hallima was still very young, newly stumbled into the borders of Gridania, some local witch or seer had paused walking by him on the road, staring at him with a thoughtful gaze. Hallima hadn't thought much of it, glaring back with fists clenched- he knew he looked strange, covered in hard scales and tattered rags. This was nothing new.

"You are a long way from home, child." The seer had spoken, voice measured and even. Hallima said nothing. There was nothing to say.

After a long moment the seer's companions had called out to them, realising they had fallen behind, and they sighed softly. They reached into their robes and pull out a small packet which they hold out to Hallima.

Hallima doesn't take it, stepping back mistrustfully.

(how old had they been then? Barely past the Hyur seer's kneecaps.)

"Just some food. I have nothing else to offer I'm afraid. Fury guide you, child."

"Fury?" It's the first thing Hallima has said to the seer. Or anyone in a very long time.

"Your Guardian God." The seer smiles just a little. "Halone the Fury. It's a little gift I have, to see these things."

Later through much observation and eavesdropping Hallima would learn that Halone was the Goddess of Ice and War, benefactor of the benevolent and faithful.

It never quite sat right with Hallima. They never liked the cold.

(They never did talk about it with Sidurgu, but they don't really have to. They've settled into a comfortable balance of irrelevant truths that lay by the wayside of their brotherhood.)

(They do talk about it with Aymeric, the blur of half-remembered memories and suspicions and the weight of Ishgard's sins. It's a rough conversation, but they do feel better afterwards.)

And then Hallima meets Halone herself, and all of it comes rushing back.

They know that the Gods do not intervene in the lives of mortals. The things done in Their names were not necessarily by their will. This does not stop some bitter part of Hallima's heart (one that sounds suspiciously like Esteem) from laying some blame at the feet of the Goddess for what could have been.

The Gods call on Hallima to talk, and always the obediant puppet, Hallima goes.

(Too far, Esteem)

They approach Halone, and Halone smiles at first, greeting them with aplomb. Then her smile falls, taking in the expression of the Au Ra below.

(Hallima isn't used to feeling so small. It's purely because of her sheer size of course, and any chill they feel in their fingers merely the result of a phantom wind.)

"We have said before that we do not interfere in the lives of mortals. We love them, and we are shaped by their faith, but to exact our will upon them is not our wont."

She floats lower then, coming to kneel before Hallima, bringing her as close to eye-level are her size would permit.

"Our pantheon offers guidance to the lost, and we hear their prayers. We cannot act, but we always listen."

"Were you listening then?" Hallima hears themself speak as if through a fog.

"I was." She nods, her voice quiet and solemn. "They wished for victory, to bring hope and peace to their families who awaited them."

"Just them?"

Halone releases her spear, which floats gently at her side, and touches Hallima's cheek with two fingers. Soft though her appearance seems, Hallima can feel the thick callouses on them.

"Nay. I heard yours too. For safety and home."

They don't ask why she hadn't answered. That answer has already been given.

"I cannot act on the will's of our faithful, but I do regret that my name was invoked to put such pain upon you, my child." She says, and she sounds genuinely remorseful.

"I don't know if I would call myself one of your faithful."

"And such is your path to walk." The smile returns to Her face. "One I would not have any other way. A Guardian God is one given by birth, but the one you choose is yours alone, and all the more important for it. Do not feel tethered to me for such circumstances, bitter as they are. Like all my brethren, we wish for our dear children's happiness, in whatever form it may take."

Something lifts from Hallima's heart, a weight they hadn't realised they had been carrying.

"Thank you, Halone. For listening."

"Of course, my child."

[buildingthegrandtour]

Pixie Eaters Anonymous

If anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be sitting in a Magic Anonymous meeting, I would’ve laughed and said there’s no such thing. Yet here I am, studying the faint glow in my hands, waiting for it to fade away for good. My body is a lead balloon, heavy yet hollow and waiting for that next hit of fairy blood so the glow can come back and all the perks with it.

Never was a junkie of any sort. I had what one person I met called a PhD– pothead degree– but that was about it. I hate how drinking alcohol makes me feel, and I had experimented with hard drugs but never really liked them. But that fairy blood, oh my god! It’s not just euphoria, it’s *power* and the taste of a deities’ feasts that linger for weeks.

At first anyway. Tolerance builds up quickly and when once you needed one fairy to last a month, now it’s three fairies a week.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s slow down and start at the beginning for the people who may be new here.

I had found a bottle of Clearly Canadian at the grocery store. Does anyone remember the flavored sparkling water back in the late 1990s? Well someone pointed me in the direction where I could get some. And as luck would have it, I got the last bottle. At a friend’s house putting my PhD to good use, clumsy me spilled the drink all over the hardwood floor. I apologized profusely, huffing as I got up to get a towel because I didn’t know when I’d be able to get my hands on another bottle.

My friend waved his hand and smiled, giving me a quick “no worries,” and guided me to sit down. He then walked up to the spill, holding his hands directly over it, and a bright glow emanated from his hands as the liquid reversed course back into the bottle. It then righted itself on the completely dry floor. He picked it up and handed it to me.

I was flabbergasted. “How on earth did you do that.”

He gave a smile and a wink, and told me, “it’s a secret.”

After everyone else had left, I stayed behind to help with cleanup. He asked me how I liked his little parlor trick.

“So did you reverse time or something? Is Charmed a documentary?”

He let out a laugh.

“You know how you always insist fairies are real?” He asked me, opening the cabinet and moving stuff around to get to the back. He pulled out a large jar set up like a terrarium with two fairies fluttering around in it. The jar was maybe big enough to hold a gallon worth of liquid.

I stepped closer, tapping lightly on the glass. A bright light flashed and a small crack appeared on the side.

“Oh it’s a good thing these are going to be used up. Don’t do that they’re stronger than they look. And little pissants, too, even when they’re not captured.”

He put the jar down and grabbed a syringe, filling it with sugar water. I took a closer look as he gave them their treat. They looked like little green men with transparent butterfly wings outlined in luminescence. Their faces were twisted in malice and mischief.

“You caught yourself some pixies?”

He nodded, and stayed silent as he waited. The pixies fell asleep in their leaves. It was at this point that he pulled out a needle and syringe, draining them to complete exsanguination. They popped after their last drop was taken, nothing but dust. He put the blood into two glasses, and filled them with orange juice.

“I always get the best results from juices with citrus,” he told me, handing me my cup.

Now you’re probably thinking I’m horrified at this, but to be completely honest there are not very many non-malevolent fairies out there (not the same as ben- benevolent, of which there are even fewer), and I didn’t see this carnivorous act as too far out there. And, and -they were not going to be coming to my house.

It was the tastiest orange juice I had ever had the pleasure to sip. I opened the fridge to see it was just a carton of minute maid, but it tasted like heaven in my mouth.

He laughed, “yeah I’ve been doing this for six months and I still have to check.”

“Do you capture the fairies yourself?”

He nodded, finished his glass, then rinsed it out. He stood and waited for me. I did not keep him waiting long.

“You’ll want to sit down for the first couple of minutes,” he told me, rushing to the couch.

As if on cue, my legs stopped working and I dropped to the floor. I was shaking, but it was not distressful. I felt the euphoria and power that I had spoken of earlier going through my blood stream, seeping into my organs. It was like my body was rebuilding itself. When it was complete I stood up, a brand new person.

“Yeah it hits hard the first time,” he tells me. He grabbed my hands and rotated them palm facing up. They emanated a slight glow.

He closed my palms, then opened his. His glow was brighter, almost covering his hands completely.

“You have their power now. You can break something without touching it, like the fairy did. Please don’t do that here. You can reverse time, like I did. You can move stuff without going near it.”

I looked down and concentrated, watching as the glow ebbed on my skin.

An instant later he shouted “stop!” urgently curling my fingers over my palms. “This is dangerous you have to let me finish!”

“Sorry.”

He stood in silence for a second, I could tell by the look on his face he was trying to figure out how to teach me.

“The best way I can put it,” he began “is you can’t think too much about it. Has to be like second nature. Like moving your arms and legs. You don’t think about it longer than it takes to decide you want to move them.”

My expression must have betrayed my confusion. He kept his grip on my hands.

“Keep these closed, we’re going to the park and I’m showing you how to do this.”

I nodded, then he let me go and grabbed his keys. We walked out the door, to his truck. He opened the door for me so I could keep my palms shut, and I fumbled my way into the passenger seat.

And when we had gotten to the park, he drove out to the field where the neighborhood kids play football and soccer and put his truck in park. Hands closed tightly into fists, I followed him to an old tree about… four feet thick. He gave me the okay to open my hands and told me to aim at the tree.

I did as he said. The glow in my hands getting brighter. And then suddenly breaking out and cracking the tree like a bolt of lightning.

“Oh!” I screamed. “I was trying to reverse time!”

Another brught light, then the crack in the tree was gone. I clamped my hands shut.

“Maybe we should’ve meditated before I gave you the fairy blood.”

“You think so, maybe?”

“Okay I deserve that.”

===

It had taken all night and half the day for me to get the hang of it needs to be second nature, but I had finally figured out exactly how that worked. Like the other drugs I wasn’t too incredibly fond of the side effects. It would be a little more than a month before the desired effects wore off, dimming little by little as days passed The withdrawal hit like a freight train. I could feel my body breaking down, and my brain was screaming for that glow.

I returned to my friend’s house. He has been expecting me, and already had a jar out filled with fairies. They had already fallen asleep from the sugar water.

“So does it make you psychic, too?”

“No, but it enhances your memory and I remember what it was like to come down the first time.”

He drained two fairies to my one, explaining that it’s not as strong for him anymore with just one. I was prepared for the initial hit this time and sat down quickly. It didn’t hit me as hard, I probably could’ve stood with the grace of a newborn calf had I tried, but I stayed seated instead until the feeling passed.

I showed him the trick I learned to light candles with my glows. He used telekinesis to make pictures with the candles as he juggled them in the air. We talked and smoked. He told me he always had a crush on me, I said I liked him, too, but never had the guts to say anything. We took our interpersonal relationships to that level and fell asleep tangled into each other.

And then we were woken up by the rest of the pixies s c r e a m i n g. He gave them more sugar water and put them in the back of the cabinet when they passed out.

“Do they eat anything else?”

“Flower nectar in the wild. Do you want to catch some?”

I nodded excitedly. Then he told me it would have to wait till dusk, heh. So we spent the rest of the day enjoying each other’s company in bed and out. When it started to get darker he pulled out another terrarium jar and grabbed his keys, motioning for me to follow.

We returned to the old tree where he took me the first night. He walked me around it and showed me a mushroom ring hiding behind the leaves.

“Do not do this unless you have some decent semblance of power,” he warned. “You consume fairy folklore like fish consume water, I know you know how pixies are.”

Indeed I do.

I stepped forward, lifting my foot to enter the circle. His hand gripped right around my arm and he pulled me back.

“What are you thinking! Your impulsiveness is part of your charm, but it’s going to get you in trouble. NEVER walk into a fairy circle, they will snatch you right up. You know better! I know you know better!”

I stood still as the tree, afraid to move. How close did I just get to being taken away? And he’s right! What exactly was I thinking?

He stretched my hands out, palms facing up. Just like that first night.

“Can you control the brightness of your glow? He asked. After I nodded he said "good, now make it dim, and brighten it slightly. Do it over and over like a fading pulse.”

I did as he said, and he did the same. Soon I heard a fluttering of small wings, then another set, then another.

“Put the light out” he whispered as he did the same for himself. The sound of wings everywhere was deafening. He grabbed the jar and started stalking the sounds, putting the jar down gingerly on the leaves, then snatching it back up at warp speed.

He had caught two pixies. Light emanated in the jar and a crack much bigger than the one I had seen the first night spread across the glass. It seemed logical that they got more power from the nectar out in the wild.

He bumped against me and guided me away.

I felt a sharp pressure on my wrist and squeaked, slapping the point of the pain. Smeared on my palm was a pixie. I licked up its blood and spit out its corpse. What the lore doesn’t tell you is that it’s like an insect/mammal hybrid.

===

The place where the fairy bit me looked like a bad tattoo until it healed up. If you look at my wrist you can see where it ruined my mortise key tattoo… I’m real disappointed about that. Though not as much as the fact that the way the skin healed seems to let off a signal for the other pixies and set me to have more “tattoos”, so I can no longer go out fairy hunting. My lover and I stay in the same apartment now, and he keeps me well supplied. We both have developed a tolerance, though he is building his much quicker than I.

Then the accident happened.

He called it the fairies’ revenge last night. His brakes stopped working at the most inopportune moment (but then is there ever a good moment for that to happen?). The doctor says the chances of him walking again are slim to none. He is terrified and darkened by the experience. Inspection of the car showed that the break lines were chewed through by some type of small animal.

...Sure… Animal...

And me, I can’t stand to see him like this. I tried to reverse time to take it all away but nothing happened as the glow has faded from me too much. I tried catching fairies myself but as you can see from the bruises all over my body that did not go well.

Then I was guided here, to Magic Anonymous, where I’m told I can get past this addiction with love and support from those who have been there.

But I’ll be honest with you, I’m here to find someone looking to relapse. Who wants to help me save my boyfriend and catch some fairies for me?

Originally posted 16 Jul 2021

Tori Amos - Black Swan (youtube link for those without Spotify)

[nyerus]

Crimson Rain Sought Flower – Hua Cheng

This is a meta that’s been in the works a while now, and yesterday I posted it to Twitter for Hua Cheng’s birthday! It’s June 10th in my timezone now, so here it is reformatted, tweaked, and with a few additions for Tumblr.

This is quite the long thread, so grab some snacks! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ

Hua Cheng and Morality

First, we need to understand Hua Cheng’s origin. He is a reject of society. He was cast aside by the world, and thus in return, holds zero esteem for it. He couldn't care less what happens to the world, apart from the one person left in it who treated him with compassion and humanity. However, Hua Cheng is not ever intentionally cruel. He is not a cruel person, yet he's also not a particularly nice person. He's neutral. He has known severe poverty, and has suffered at the hands of hypocrisy and injustice—so he hates these things too.

That is why he’s sincere in his actions (even if they are not always “good”), and a man of his word. That is why he rules Ghost City with an iron fist, yet is fair. He does not abuse his power, and is always clear about terms in an agreement, but is not very forgiving. If you cross him, or try to swindle him, you will be put in your place. Pray to him with less-than-honest goals, and he will ignore you. Or if he's in the mood, ruin your life to teach you a lesson. Wrong his beloved, and there will be hell to pay—full stop.

Meanwhile, he will protect innocent humans trapped in Tonglu, not only because that's what his God would have done, but because those people are helpless. Hua Cheng knows helplessness. Especially to use them for his own gain is a hypocrisy he cannot accept for himself. And then, he will build a city for other ghosts (serves also to keep them in line), so that they won't be taken advantage of like he was as a small ghost fire. He will give shelter to a ghost who got revenge on her rapist, and even for animal spirits who seek their vengeance.

These can be seen as benevolent acts, yet it's more accurate to say that Hua Cheng's hatred of bullies and the abuse of those who are vulnerable is the basis for whatever moral code he has. It's an eye-for-an-eye (sorry) ideology. Rather than kindness or righteousness, it's about balance.

[CONTINUED UNDER CUT DUE TO LENGTH.]

(This is part of why he so hates Heavenly Officials, as he knows many of them were abusing their position and powers for personal gain. They parade as paragons of virtue, while many of them are sycophants or outright corrupt. And worst of all, they bullied Xie Lian.)

Interestingly, Hua Cheng is actually more lenient with people who make no ploy at being virtuous or such. He minds his business for the most part, unless he sees blatant abuses of power. Even then, his intervention is not guaranteed, depending on the situation. Frankly, Hua Cheng seems more likely to step in when a) there are people who are vulnerable or disadvantaged, and b) when he is pissed off enough about the situation. People who are either rich/powerful/have the means can, generally, help themselves.

After all Hua Cheng is a Ghost King, in part because of the freedom it gives him to do as he pleases. This means he can decide whether or not to care about someone or something, without any ambiguity in terms of his responsibility. (Which is the opposite for Gods.)

Importantly, if Hua Cheng had to choose between anyone—including innocent people—and Xie Lian, he is without a doubt going to choose Xie Lian. Zero hesitation, period. Again, this is the crux of his character and he makes no ploy in pretending to care about others, especially those he does not know.

This may be off-putting to some, as “shouldn’t he be a good person?” But Hua Cheng himself makes no such claim, and considers himself as neither good nor bad. He is exactly what he wants to be in that aspect, nothing more, nothing less. That’s part of what makes him a fascinating love interest.

Hua Cheng’s Relationships

Despite Xie Lian being the first in his mind, and despite being quite comfortable in his solitude, there are other people Hua Cheng holds in high regard—or is at least on good(-ish) terms with.

He greatly respects people like Yushi Huang and Mei Nianqing, especially since they were good to Xie Lian, and this is reflected in his interactions with them. Yushi Huang specifically helped Xie Lian when no one else would, and is also an honest god who takes care of her people—and Hua Cheng very much respects this. Meanwhile, Hua Cheng quickly identifies Mei Nianqing as that father figure of Xie Lian’s he wants to impress!

He Xuan earns Hua Cheng’s respect as a fellow ghost king, though their relationship is fairly transactional. He’ll provide funds in return for information, but doesn’t seem to really like his modus operandi. As far as Hua Cheng is concerned with He Xuan’s plans: not his circus, not his monkeys—until and unless Xie Lian is involved.

Yin Yu is someone Hua Cheng trusts and values as an employee, and takes responsibility for in that capacity, while understanding Yin Yu’s past (which is similar to Xie Lian’s). In return, Yin Yu has a place to belong without fear of judgement, and can put his own talents to use where they will be—at the least—fairly compensated.

(A deeper look into all 3 relationships + others will come eventually.)

All that being said, there is a very clear difference between how Hua Cheng treats everyone else—including those he very much respects—and Xie Lian. When it comes to Xie Lian, Hua Cheng is overwhelmingly devoted and amicable. Xie Lian is the only person he is truly concerned about wholeheartedly, and wants to keep safe/happy/ loved. Even if he would help other people, it doesn't go nearly as far as this. And again, if he had to choose between them, there is no question about it.

Hua Cheng's "true self" is both the cold and aloof ghost king, and the mischievous and sweet San Lang. The latter just happens to be a side of him that he is only willing to show to Xie Lian—who knows this and loves all sides of him equally. No one else, even people he respects, will ever get to see that San Lang.

Hua Cheng’s Goals

Before we dive much deeper into Hua Cheng’s relationship with Xie Lian, let’s briefly circle back to Hua Cheng’s regrets and view of power, much of which stem from his early life. It’s something that is like the foundation of his current views, goals, and personality.

Hua Cheng’s biggest regret in life was being powerless to help Xie Lian when Xie Lian needed him. His goal as a ghost is to never be in that position again, and thus he amassed unimaginable wealth and power. At the same time, he is not actually very attached to any of his material possessions. (Except E’ming of course.) It’s all a means to an end: to not only have the power to help and protect Xie Lian, but to provide for him. Hua Cheng gets the most satisfaction when he’s able to fulfil these primal needs of his, which he never got to before.

We see this crop up sometimes, such as him being eager to have Xie Lian stay in Paradise Manor for a while, gifting him an armory of priceless weapons, etc. And then of course, his frustration whenever he’s put in a position where he can’t protect Xie Lian (e.g. when he gets kid’ified in book 3, though he makes the best of it by accepting the free cuddles).

At the same time, Hua Cheng is cognizant of not making Xie Lian feel uncomfortable, and is careful of never intruding on Xie Lian’s agency. All of Hua Cheng’s wealth and power is meant to be used as needed by Xie Lian, as the strongest weapon Xie Lian could ever have. Never to undermine him.

Hua Cheng also knows Xie Lian is not the type of person to use someone like that. “If I could, I would have you use me as your stepping stone, the bride you burn after crossing […] But I know you wouldn’t allow it.” (ch. 240.) So instead, Hua Cheng ensures that he is Xie Lian’s greatest ally, no matter the cause. He does not expect anything in return, and daren’t ask for it.

Hua Cheng’s Respect, Devotion, and Love for Xie Lian

Changing gears: this is where we start looking at Hua Cheng in terms of his love for Xie Lian. We can’t talk about Hua Cheng without going into it. After all, that’s what makes him, *him.*

Hua Cheng at times can seem quite passive because to the reader, as he is so willing to go along with whatever Xie Lian decides. At first glance, this seems quite odd for a character who is otherwise so free-spirited, but it’s very in line with Hua Cheng’s choice to unequivocally support Xie Lian.

"If your dream is saving the common people, then my dream is only you." This is overlooked in importance. Hua Cheng understands that Xie Lian will do right by the people—but he really couldn't care less about them. Instead, he will be the one to look out for Xie Lian. If Xie Lian has prioritized helping the common people over his own well-being, Hua Cheng is ready and willing to be the one to prioritize Xie Lian in return. Given that Xie Lian is self-sacrificing in service to his principles, Hua Cheng's motivations make sense. Someone has to look out for Xie Lian, and that someone is him.

He is not interested in opposing Xie Lian, even if he disagrees with what Xie Lian chooses. He will even give his honest opinion, e.g. when he tells Xie Lian to not get involved with the Shi Brothers and Black Water. But when Xie Lian decides to anyway, Hua Cheng already predicted as much, and simply accompanies.

The main exception to this is when Xie Lian tries to solve problems with self-harm, which Hua Cheng will always try to mitigate, because he can’t watch the one he loves intentionally hurt themselves even if it’s “for the greater good.” Not to mention, Xie Lian’s concept of pain is… not so good….

Ultimately, Hua Cheng isn't there to make Xie Lian's choices for him, since he sincerely respects Xie Lian's own decisions. He is merely there to ensure that regardless of what Xie Lian decides, he will offer unconditional support. He especially has no interest in morally policing Xie Lian.

As an aside, Xie Lian also has no interest in morally policing Hua Cheng. He may not always agree with Hua Cheng's methods or reasoning (e.g. the Gambling Den), but he doesn't try to be an expert on things he doesn't understand, and respects Hua Cheng enough to trust him with his own affairs.

All of this is to say, this doesn’t make Hua Cheng a pushover or anything. Hua Cheng is incredibly strong-willed, and actually listens to no one but himself. It's simply that he's decided that his God comes first. He is an entirely devout believer. He made that decision with every fiber of his being, and it's why he is a supreme Ghost King at all. Anything less would not be enough. It's understandably difficult for most people to relate to this aspect or understand it because it's basically impossible in the real world.

So, it's not that he doesn't have anything else, but rather, he does not want anything else. He is the embodiment of pure devotion with no strings attached. It's actually not something meant to be relatable (which is not to say that he doesn't have many relatable qualities).

This is what makes him so compelling as a character: the fact that he's a fable, a darkly beautiful idea taken to the extreme. This is the unmatchable, celestial being aspect of his character, and it goes incredibly well with the sheer humaneness of his narrative. Because... funny thing is, Hua Cheng is completely aware of his zealotry. It's the source of his power—that which his entire existence is built upon—but it's also one of his greatest insecurities. He doesn't care if everyone knows he worships Xie Lian, would want them to, and would even be very proud of it.

However, the intensity of his beliefs, specifically coupled with his romantic feelings, makes him afraid to be found out by Xie Lian. Hua Cheng cannot separate his devotion from his love and desire for Xie Lian, because the reasons for both are the same. And yet he feels shame for daring to yearn.

By the time he is introduced in the story, Hua Cheng is mostly "complete," though he doesn't get a traditional character arc by virtue of not being the main character. It is Xie Lian's story, after all. But like Xie Lian, he's missing something crucial that he doesn't get until the events of the story unfold.

There's a bit of cognitive dissonance for him. Part of him knows just how hard he worked to get where he is, crawling through the mud to end up as a supreme, rich and powerful in a way most will never know; completely self-assured he's the best suited to be by Xie Lian's side. Another part of him is still that child, covered in mud and nothing but useless trash. The scars from his cold childhood will never fully heal, nor will he ever be able to forget them, try as he might.

He is trapped between knowing he's the best, and thinking trash such as himself doesn't dare wish for something as precious as His Highness' love. Even for all his flirting, there's still a part of him choked by fear.

But Hua Cheng does finally get what he's been missing, and it's not Xie Lian as a prize for his hard work. Rather, it's the realization that he is loved in return. It's him *allowing* himself to be loved, and to want. Ultimately, Xie Lian and Hua Cheng actually wished for the same thing after all: Not being loved in spite of their flaws, but that love encompassing them as a whole—as flawed people. "What matters is you and not the state of you." It is free of all burden, utterly crystal-clear in its manifestation.

There is some sentiment that Hua Cheng has Xie Lian on a pedestal—but this is rather untrue. Because a pedestal implies two things: 1.) Dehumanization of the person 2.) Should they falter, they will fall off

Other people did in fact have Xie Lian on a pedestal, and when he fell off, had difficulty reconciling the image of godly perfection that they believed of him, and his fallible human self. The exaggeration of someone’s goodness is not maintainable by either party.

Hua Cheng never holds Xie Lian to any such standards, thereby eliminating the possibility of Xie Lian not meeting them. Once again, it's not "he can do no wrong" (like what many others did believe, and thus come in the impossible standards). Instead, it's "there is no right or wrong involved, there is only him."

It's not Xie Lian who is infallible, it's that Hua Cheng's love for him is infallible.

He doesn't care if Xie Lian makes a mistake, because he understands that Xie Lian can and will by nature of being human—but he will love Xie Lian through them, regardless.

As said in the beginning of this thread, Hua Cheng is not a hero. As far as he is concerned, he does not care for either heroics or villany. And he is not about helping Xie Lian to grow/change/become better/etc. To him, whatever Xie Lian is, was, and will be... is perfection defined. He loves with 100% of his being. This is incredibly powerful.

Hua Cheng as a Concept

Of course, in real life, we must be aware of our fallibility and help each other learn, hold each other accountable, etc. Hua Cheng’s level of devotion and complete selflessness to Xie Lian is not really something to “strive” for in real life. But I’m sure no one is under any other impression anyway. It's not possible in the real world, but that's the whole appeal! The sheer fantastical element to how far and how deep a person's devotion could go, removed from the constraints of reality, and what that would mean. That's why Hua Cheng is such a fun and interesting character to think and talk about. He is a character who is beyond the reach of reality, while still rooted in it.

Interestingly, I believe this is also why he tends to also be a somewhat polarizing character, too.

TGCF is filled with characters like this. Xie Lian, He Xuan, even Shi Wudu are extremely similar to Hua Cheng, just different in the fable they embody. (And actually the Black Water arc is a mirror to the overall themes of the story.) There is a reason the novel starts and ends like folklore.

[octania]

Nicolas Brown x Reader HEADCANONS

Word count: 1.7 k

Warings: smut, nsfw

Short description : How Nicolas would treat his s/o. His experience with women and ways of dealing with them in general. His way of seducing, falling in love, fucking... all the beautiful and sexy parts that come with this man.

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His behavior has unfortunately often been misinterpreted because of his deadly abilities and sharp exterior, so it is no wonder that there are opinions of him not being able to understand and gain something like tender woman’s touch. His predatory gaze, strong hands mastering the katana as if it was a part of his body, movements of the speed of light that the prey does not even know it was mutilated the first few second... are not credible descriptions of his true personality.

From a young age, Nicolas knew nothing more than suffering, his body only knew multiple tortures and his eyes absorbed only barbarism. But instead of such an environment resulting in the destruction of his benevolent feelings, it only made him lock them deep inside, because feelings are a weakness, an Achilles heel, and someone in his kind of business can’t afford it.

 Even the biggest problem lay not in his reluctance to show his warm side, in fact, his constant concern for the weaker and going out of his frames of personality, which he normally shows only to cover those in need with his steel body, but his vast belief is that he is worth nothing, that he is just a killing machine and nothing more. He does not present his deepest sufferings and low opinion of his worth in front of others, he does not seek attention, because who could see anything more than a beast, when he himself sees nothing else?

Therefore, when his dark eyes would finally show interest in someone in a way that had been marked as impossible for him, the Pandora's box of his torments would open. Nicolas would watch you from afar, calm, curious, absorbing your every move and words from your lips, drowning in an unfamiliar sea of ​​feelings rising in his strong chest.He wouldn't understand what was going on, why you aroused so much interest in him, but he knew he enjoyed every moment when you were in front of his eyes.  

It is interesting that from the beginning he would not look at you lustfully as men otherwise do. Not because he has no desire to run his big palms along the lines of your body, to cross along the soft parts that would wake up a different kind of beast in him, no, but because your personality is more interesting to him than your naked body for now, after all, that's what made you different from everyone else and made him come out of his darkness that dwell in his mind and approach the light he had believed for so long that it would not shine for him. 

You would have your own private body guard, and you wouldn't even know it. He would follow you when he was able to, merging with the shadows of the roofs in his black suit, footsteps as light as a cat's, eyes glued to you. But Nicolas isn’t a stalker, he doesn’t do this because he needs to feed his deranged desire to watch you, he just wants to make sure you’re safe. The city you live in has claws on every corner, and you wouldn't even be aware of how many times he stopped the scum lurking from the dark corners with his massive body, going straight for the throat, his katana slicing every danger that dared come near you. 

The progress of your relationship would go painfully slow due to his “low value of his life” philosophy. Also, Nicolas would never ask for help from others around him, he keeps his problems to himself. Furthermore, he doesn't even need advice, he knows how to approach a woman, he knows better than anyone how to treat one, even though he the list of his lovers was not long because no one showed the deeper side to him that made him feel the way he feels for you, how a drop of water on his palm is nothing compared to how he would treat you if he managed to expresses his true feelings.

A person who never had a gentle touch on his cheek, when finally given the opportunity, becomes devoted to his partner for life. You would literally become his reason for living. The power you would have over him was unexplainable. He would run to you like a wounded puppy every time you two are apart, showing only to you his true colors. And those are a kind, loyal, caring man that desires nothing more than to hold you glued on his muscular chest, his broad shoulders and strong back like a mountain leaning over you to protect you from the world, closing his eyes and absorbing the soft touch on his skin like dry ground absorbs the water.  The only problem is, he didn't see how someone as perfect as you would even look at someone like him, a wild animal.

His distorted view of himself is what creates the problem, and once you finally realize what the obstacles are in the way of your relationship and decide to give him signs that make it clear how you feel, you would hit the jackpot, but again, in time.

Why isn’t the list of his lovers long? Believe me, it is not because Nicolas did not have chances. Even thought he is a high ranked Twilight, his sharp jaw line, tempting deep dark eyes, muscular torso that is not so well hidden under that white shirt that expresses his stone hard biceps even more, and the mysterious vibes he radiates, makes him more than desirable. Women would love to have him between their legs to feel all that might, drain him from his passionate and sexual gifts. But Nicolas does not find the pleasure of taking on one night stands, doing something meaningless just for the cheap pleasure of the body. Far from the fact he does not have that needs, he does, deep and wild  ones actually, and that is the pure reason why he does not indulge in them with strangers for a quickie. He wants a woman who will give as much as he gives her, and make him feel more than just his blood hitting his lower body. The mixture of passion and desire is what he wants, and the one who will get it will discover just how crafty he really is in the sheets.

 After approaching you slowly, being there first as an acquaintance, making his way up to “a friend” when he always was there when you needed some help, acting like he is doing it just because, nothing more, but his act would fall as a house of cards every time you would smile and thank him, then he would nervously scratch the back of his head, wave his hand at you to show you “it was nothing” then leave. But surprise, surprise, he would be there the next day, “by coincidence” passing by places you are at, because he has a job nearby.

The thing that would push him to finally make the crucial step , would probably be jealousy or quarrel. Seeing you getting hit on by other men and fearing he would lose you, made him act on instinct, hunt down the thing you need, but this time with your heart. But, the most likely, he would seal the deal when you two would have a first argument that included your safety. When he politely tried to talk you out of (sign you) something that seemed dangerous to him. When you would not listen and the argument would started to heat up and you would just try to leave, he would grab onto your forearm, firmly but with caution, pulling you back and crashing his lips on yours. His heart pounding in his ears, body tensed as his warm lips finally give away his state of heart and mind. The cutest thing would be, when you actually return the kiss, pushing your fingers into his raven hair, his eyes would open in shock, like he did not expect it, but soon would close again in delightful feeling that he did not know till now, and he locks you into a hug that radiates safety and devotion.

 When it comes to sex, Nicolas is the man who’s talents make you believe he has a gift of God. Not only that his other senses got sharper because of his inability to hear, so his eyes and hands find the sensitive spots you even did not know you had, feeling how your body reacts, from the vibration of your moans and tensing and shivering of your body to his huge dick reaching the points inside you that no one else before him did.

 His hands would rest on your throat, absorbing your moans through the waves of your voice on your skin. They would travel from your tits to your ribs and abdomen, so he can feel the pleasure consuming you and pouring out of you through the movements of your body.

He would explore your every inch with his lips, to find all of the sweet sports that he will use to make you insane. His fingers would fill your mouth so he can feel when you bite on them from the raging satisfaction when he fucks you, so he learns what gets you crazy fast, using it against you every time.

Needless to say, his dick matches his body, so you better believe he is big. His thick delight about 8.5 inches long, the veins popping out, filling his tip with blood, making it pulsate and ready for action. And once he is in, believe that no one will be able to fill you the same way as him.

There is one tricky thing. Nicolas likes it rough, but is aware of how strong he is, so he stays careful, holding back sometimes so his insanely strong thrusts do not break you. But he is a slave to your teasing, when you ask him to speed up, shaping his name with your rosy lips and licking them to show him just how much you want to be fucked like his little whore. His hands crush upper part of the bed as he grips it with his full strength, speeding up his slams, but still being on guard. It is just a matter of your provocation to see how far he will go.

Another cute thing about Nicolas is, he uses protection, well at least he tries to before you demand his bare meat in you. Why he does it? Because he is caring and wants you to always be protected, even in this way, to show how much he respects you and your decisions. Also, he will not argue when you show him that you want his flesh naked on yours, his thick cock buried inside your warm cunt without any rubbers to fuck up the feeling.

So, to sum up, Nicolas Brown does not lack experience or knowledge how to treat or please a woman, in fact, he is a golden ticket to a train of guaranteed happiness. But to find that valuable pearl of his emotions you have to go through the hard surface of that shall of his, made of his believes that he is not worthy of a happy ending. But hay, to win a priceless treasure, it is worth the hard work.

If you want to support my work, you can leave me a small tip on Ko-fi 💖 . It is highly appreciated. 🥺 😍

[adifferenttime]

Andrew Ryan vs. Robert House

On almost every House post I make, someone in the notes will reliably reference Andrew Ryan. I totally get it - they look similar, they're based on the same guy, the parallels are so clear that the NV dev team added an achievement for killing House with a golf club - but I think these commonalities tend to engulf both characters, blotting out some of their more interesting ideological/personal differences. It's useful to examine them in relation to one another, but part of that is figuring out what distinguishes them, which is just what I’ve attempted to do.

It's difficult for me to talk about Randian objectivism because I don't think it's sound enough to address on its own terms, but considering this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan has adopted, I kind of have to. What I’d identify as the core premise of Randian ethics is this: altruism is a moral wrong. Some Randians have argued that isn't really what they believe - that the real point is anything resembling altruism is self-interest in disguise - but they're departing from the beliefs of their icon when they make those claims. Per Rand:

The irreducible primary of altruism, the basic absolute is self-sacrifice – which means self-immolation, self-abnegation, self-denial, self-destruction – which means the self as a standard of evil, the selfless as a standard of the good.

The way Rand defines altruism is by linking it to self-sacrifice, which she uses to differentiate it from kindness or benevolence. Aiding others at no cost to yourself is benevolent, but not altruistic, and therefore not evil. Sacrificing your happiness to help another human being is, from Rand's perspective, evil, as is any philosophy that prioritizes the other at the cost of the self. This whole idea has been broadly rejected by most scholars on account of it being really fucking stupid. What justifies the leap from "man is naturally selfish" to "selfishness is good"? If selfishness is moral, wouldn't the most moral behavior be to exploit others through whatever means necessary, favoring force over the market? Rand defines happiness as "using your mind’s fullest power," achievable only when you "do not consider the pleasure of others as the goal," but why is this the only definition? What if your only options are self-sacrificial in nature? How do you weigh them if neither sacrifice is linked to values, individual achievement, or "your mind's fullest power" at all? Rand didn't care because she was too busy trying to ethically justify cheating on her man with her best friend's husband, but nonetheless, this is the philosophy Andrew Ryan’s adopted. He claims that "Altruism is the root of all Wickedness," in what's almost a direct quote from Rand herself.

To that end, Ryan builds a system that doesn’t just accept selfishness but actively incentivizes it. Every other principle he expresses is subservient to the ideas that selfishness rules man, and that for Ryan to act on his own selfish impulses is the highest good in the world. His lesser political principles (individual liberties, negative rights, the creation of a stateless society) don’t matter to him as much as the central precept from which they stem: that selfishness is his moral imperative.

What is the greatest lie every created? What is the most vicious obscenity ever perpetrated on mankind? Slavery? The Holocaust? Dictatorship? No. It's the tool with which all that wickedness is built: altruism.

It doesn't come as a particular surprise to me when he starts imprisoning dissidents or executing rivals or banning theft (standard practice in most societies, but not what an egoist would pursue; if you can get away with taking it, you deserve to have it, or so the thinking goes). I’ve seen him described as a hypocrite, but I don’t think that’s necessarily true considering everything he does is in line with his opposition to altruism. He'll adhere to his other principles only if they don’t sabotage his pursuit of personal power. This is evident in the fact that he only adopts a negative perception of Fontaine when his own interests are threatened, but doesn’t give two shits what Fontaine might be doing to sow conflict and harm people before that point. A guy named Gregory asks Ryan to step in against Fontaine early on before Fontaine's fully established himself as a threat to Ryan's power, and Ryan's extremely blase about it.

Don't expect me to punish citizens for showing a little initiative. If you don't like what Fontaine is doing, well, I suggest you find a way to offer a better product.

Contrast this with how he reacts when Fontaine has risen as a genuine business rival. This is from the log titled "Fontaine Must Go."

Something must be done about Fontaine. While I was buying buildings and fish futures, he was cornering the market on genotypes and nucleotide sequences. Rapture is transforming before my eyes. The Great Chain is pulling away from me.

This double standard is the natural outgrowth of his prioritization of self-interest. If your most deeply-held belief is that you should never give up your interests for others, ancillary rules become flexible in times of personal crisis, and Bioshock makes the case that putting someone like that in charge of a city will leave you with a crumbling, monstrous ruin.

Superficially, House has some similarities. Ryan executes political rivals; House has you blow up a bunker of his ideological opponents. Ryan is the highest authority in Rapture; House is the absolute monarch of Vegas. Their goals and moral codes, though, are almost diametrically opposed. When you ask House why you’re expected to trust him when he’s openly admitting to installing himself as the despot of the New Vegas Strip, he says this:

I have no interest in abusing others... Nor have I any interest in being worshipped as some kind of machine-god messiah. I am impervious to such corrupting ambitions.

Most of his resources are devoted to large-scale, impersonal projects, aimed either at building the power of Vegas or securing his long term goal of “progress” as he sees it. He’s rejected selfishness as a moral good because House is very far from Randian objectivism. He's a Hobbesian monarch.

In that respect, he shares an outlook on human nature with Ryan that I deeply disagree with (that human beings are essentially selfish), but in terms of what that means for the structure of a utopian society, House takes a very different position. From his perspective, human nature breeds suffering, not industriousness, and the only way to stamp out conflict - and, in a post-nuclear age, ensure the continued survival of the human race - is through a strong sovereign. The purpose of a state as laid out in Leviathan aligns very, very closely with the one House expresses.

...the foresight of their own preservation, and of a more contented life thereby; that is to say, of getting themselves out from that miserable condition of war which is necessarily consequent, as hath been shown, to the natural passions of men...

The monarch's successes are reflected in his society and the well-being of humanity as a whole. To subvert his goals is to subvert society's goals, and to doom humanity to the war, death, and suffering that exist in a state of nature. When you destroy his Securitrons/kill him, he doesn't plead for himself or get offended on his own behalf. He accuses you of betraying not him, but mankind.

Single-handedly, you've brought mankind's best hopes of forward progress crashing down. No punishment would be too severe. Fool... to let... personalities... derail future... of mankind? ...Stupid! Slavery... the future of... mankind? What... have you... done?

An important corollary of this idea which again distinguishes House from Ryan appears in Leviathan’s description of the political/moral responsibility of a monarch to his subjects:

...that great Leviathan, or rather, to speak more reverently, of that mortal god to which we owe, under the immortal God, our peace and defence. For by this authority... he hath the use of so much power that, by terror thereof, he is enabled to form the wills of them all, to peace at home, and mutual aid against their enemies abroad.

Hobbes and House give the monarch virtually unlimited power but match it to the monarch's duty, which he lives to fulfill. His obligation is to speak for the people, act for them, and protect them from all threats, internal and external. House generally abides by this, orienting his decisions around his goals for society irrespective of the personal cost (the negative consequences of his actions are a product of his fucked evaluations of what’s best for society, not personal greed). It’s not just a departure from Ryan’s philosophy but a complete refutation of it. He's almost died for what he's misidentified as the greatest good.

Given that I had to make do with buggy software, the outcome could have been worse. I nearly died as it was…. I spent the next few decades in a veritable coma.

This is not the behavior of an egoist. This is the behavior of an extremely arrogant but marginally altruistic (from a Randian perspective lmao) guy. This is some distorted “from each according to his ability” shit if you’ve managed to convince yourself your abilities exceed those of everyone else who has ever lived and that you can get the Mandate of Heaven by being really good at statistics.

The reason these guys develop such similar structures and hierarchies despite the ideological gulfs between them is because both of them are elitists who’ve experienced a massive failure of self-consciousness. They’re unable to conceive of other people as being fundamentally like them. Ryan separates people into the clearly-delineated classes of “producer” and “parasite,” ignoring the fact that everything he’s ever “produced” was reliant on a huge, coordinated effort between workers, architects, accountants, middlemen, and others, all of whom, in conjunction, contributed more to the realization of his dreams that he ever could have alone. Rather than realizing his own position is more parasitic and reliant on other people’s labor than that of anyone else in Rapture, he adheres to his doctrine of selfishness even when it’s not reflective of reality and is ruining the the lives of an entire city of people. He deludes himself into believing he’s a superman among ants instead of one flawed man who is reliant on the goodwill of others to help him survive, as are we all.

House, too, thinks he’s exceptional. Unlike Ryan, he acknowledges the necessity of the worker to a functioning society, but while he’ll accept his reliance on that labor, he doesn’t trust the laborer enough to share political power. House knows he’s invested in humanity’s survival and the creation of a better world, but he refuses to consider that he might not be alone in this goal. He chalks up the existence of the Legion to fanaticism/the ambitions of a sultanistic dictator and attributes everything the NCR has done to greed, without it ever occurring to him that the massive harm these nations have done was partially motivated by the same goals he’s devoted himself to - and that the atrocities he’s committed since his rise to power are, in some respects, very similar. House knows himself to be invested in the well-being of humanity, but he’s too arrogant to ask himself if his methods are wrong or trust other people to build a new path, one that doesn’t necessitate his complete control over the land and people of the Mojave. Ryan and House’s worldviews are distinct, and their flaws, as highlighted by their respective narratives, say some interesting things about how each set of devs view power and the pitfalls of elitism.

Anyway. If you put these two men in a room, they would probably try to murder each other, and I think that’s great.

[musclesandhammering]

Loki (2021) Positivity from an Anti

Ok so all of my mutuals know I’m extremely anti-Loki (2021), anti-sylki, and anti-sylvie. But at a certain point, even we antis get tired of all the negativity. So! Here’s some Loki series commentary in the opposite direction! This is a list of all the things about the show that I loved :)

Also adding a disclaimer that all of this is just my opinion and some of my fellow antis (or even people who liked the show) might disagree, and that’s fine! I’ve been planning this post for awhile. I always say in my other posts that I don’t entirely hate the show and I wanted to be a little more specific about what I think are its good aspects. Feel free to leave your thoughts!

• Mobius is a gem (Owen Wilson owns my whole heart) and his relationship with Loki is so so great. He’s not one-dimensional at all, he has conflicted loyalty and is morally complex, and he has the tragic backstory- which makes him a perfect choice for eventually becoming Loki’s first genuine friend.

• The casting was really really great. Lots of women and people of color. Most of the female actresses (as well as the males) are over 30, which isn’t very common and is fantastic!

• Superb acting all around. I can’t think of a single scene where the actors under or oversold it.

• Beautiful set design, incredible cgi, and gorgeous cinematography overall. It looked more like a movie than a tv show, which is really good.

• Kang being the big bad was a huge plus for me. Johnathan Majors was perfect in the role, his vibes were immaculate, and I was honestly pretty worried that the man behind the curtain would end up being another Loki variant, which imo would’ve been boring and predictable and counter-productive, so it was a big relief when that didn’t happen.

• I like that it sets up a bunch of future marvel movies, rather than being contained to its own little world. It gives it more importance and (hopefully) will encourage writers to not just toss Loki’s character aside in future projects.

• All the Loki variants were delightful. All of them except Sylvie. Kid Loki has my heart. Boastful Loki is a fashion icon. Alligator Loki is a savage. President Loki is the superior variant. Classic Loki became my fav character in less than half an episode.

• It showed some more variety in Loki’s magic. A lot of his powers we’ve seen before, but it feels like they were portrayed a bit more blatantly in the show. The energy blasts, the telekinesis, the teleportation… Outstanding.

• It also implied that Loki has the potential to be waaaay more powerful than he knows he is right now, which? Yes.

• Some of the quotes- and the themes behind them- are just profound as hell. Such as:

“I think we’re stronger than we realise.”

“It’s never too late to change.”

“You can be whoever you wanna be, even someone good.”

“We’re Lokis. We survive. It’s what we do.”

“Loki, God of Outcasts.”

“The universe wants to break free, that’s why it manifests chaos.”

• Technically Loki was Marvel’s first canon lgbt (bi) character, which is a win. His genderfluidity is also technically canon, even if it wasn’t really acknowledged on-screen.

• There were a lot of throwback references to Thor 1, Avengers, and Thor The Dark World. Which I loved.

• Sylvie’s so pretty. Her hair and makeup and costume were all perfect.

• Big fan of Loki finally getting Laevateinn.

• Sufficiently slutty imagery, courtesy of a female director (Loki in a collar, kneeling to Sif, President Loki looking down into the bunker, the hair flips)

• The music was Excellent Wonderful and Superb.

• I love that Loki being a good singer is now canon.

• I love that Asgardians having their own language is now canon (even if it’s basically just Icelandic).

• I also love that they disproved all of those “Loki was a shy nerdy wallflower pre-canon” theories in Episode 3. The drinking/eating/singing scene was fun, if a bit wacky.

• There’s a million different reasons why Loki does what he does, especially in regards to the New York attack (I’m literally writing a huge meta on them), but somehow I never considered that Loki being desperate for control was one of them. It makes a lot of sense, and I always love getting new insights into his motivations.

• I love that Loki finally outright acknowledged that he doesn’t enjoy hurting people. We Been Knew™️ but it’s still nice to hear it out loud from his own mouth.

• The TVA outfit wasn’t as hideous as some people make it out to be. It could’ve been A Look, even. You know, if he’d just accessorised a little better. And kept the jacket on. And not gotten sweaty. And not gotten dirty. And maybe had at least one other costume change… But it had potential, though!!

• Even though I despise the Obvious One, I did actually like some of the other romance crumbs they tossed us (sifki, Loki x the flight attendant).

• The whole DB Cooper thing was iconic idc idc.

• Loki’s hyper sort of overly excited puppy attitude in episode 2 was actually pretty refreshing and funny (for awhile). And now I can headcanon him as adhd, yeehaw.

• “We’re all villains here.” That quote was iconic, my favourite one in the show. And the entire theme that it summarised was really great as well. When you think about it, every single main character in this series has been the villain at one point or another. I mean, I know all marvel characters do bad things etc, but none of the Heroes are ever narratively categorised as Bad. This show did just that with all of them, though. . Loki was framed as the psychopath that attacked New York. Sylvie was framed as the murderous fugitive. The TVA/Ravonna/Mobius were framed as the murderous fascists. Kang was framed as the crazy totalitarian. It’s made clear that all the Loki variants were the villains of their stories.

However, every single main character in the series is also framed as the Hero at a certain point. Loki is framed as the main protagonist who throws a wrench in the TVA’s dastardly plans. Sylvie is framed as the persevering freedom fighter who wants to take down the fascists. The TVA/Mobius/Ravonna are framed as the ones who maintain order for the greater good. Kang is framed as the weird but ultimately benevolent wise man who’s just trying to prevent something worse from happening. The Loki variants are framed as generous allies who befriend the main character and help him on his journey.

Everyone in this equation is openly acknowledged by the narrative to be morally corrupt, but not entirely morally bankrupt. There are no Straightforward Hero Figures (like the Avengers) in this entire scenario at all, and that makes for a super interesting dynamic that marvel has never done before. So yes: “We’re all villains here.” But also: “No one bad is ever truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good.” I loved that.

• Even if it wasn’t really enough imo, I still treasure the crumbs we got of Loki being competent and capable (him putting the collar on B-15, him figuring out Sylvie’s hiding place, him teaching himself to enchant on the fly while fighting a giant cloud beast of eldritch proportions).

• I love that B-15 was the one who stepped in and saved the day in Episode 4, when we all thought it was gonna be Mobius. What a queen.

• Marvel usually has a bit of a problem with creating compelling and memorable side characters. But aside from Sylvie, I genuinely got attached to every single character in this show. Like Casey, C-20? I was seriously emotionally invested in them and they were only in like 2 episodes. Wtf.

• Introducing the TVA storyline in the Loki series specifically was a really good move. I’m not saying they executed it well, just that it had a ton of potential. A lot of people have wondered why marvel even thought to put those two (the TVA and Loki) together, when they had literally nothing to do with each other, nothing in common, and essentially no connection at all. But when you think about it, it’s a really interesting twist on both of those stories. Forcing the embodiment of destructive chaos and the pillar of rigid order to interact could make for some seriously entertaining and compelling television. And as far as meshing these two completely unrelated entities together goes, I thought they did it pretty well- at least just the bare bones of the story (loki being arrested by the TVA and being one of their most common variants).

So that’s it! If you guys (fellow antis) wanna add stuff you liked, feel free. If anyone wants to discuss (or debate) my list, feel free to do that too!

[karezzasstuff]

The Karezza Method: 5 Reasons Why This Spiritual Sexual Experience Is Worth Trying

When it comes to sex, we often don't just use the orgasm to indicate how successful it was – we also see it as the ultimate goal of sex. Time to check out the karezza method.

Where does the karezza method come from?

KAREZZA METHOD

The Karezza Method: 5 Reasons Why This Spiritual Sexual Experience Is Worth Trying

When it comes to sex, we often don't just use the orgasm to indicate how successful it was – we also see it as the ultimate goal of sex. Time to check out the karezza method.

Where does the karezza method come from?

Karezza is a slow, sensual way of making love, where the climax disappears completely from view, leaving room for emotional connection and more intense affection. The karezza method has ancient spiritual roots, but became known in our era thanks to the publication of Alice Bunker Stockham's 1903 book, Karezza: the Ethics of Marriage.se Stockham coined the term karezza based on the Italian word carezza, meaning "to caress." ' stands for.

The idea behind the karezza method is to deepen sexual and emotional bonding, says clinical sexologist Randi Levison. The method “teaches couples to pay attention to each other's entire being, not a single body part,” she says. “The point is to relax and be present in the now.”

The method is also known by its Latin names, 'coitus reservatus', although strictly speaking that differs from real karezza; coitus reservatus refers to the penetrating partner abstaining from orgasm while continuing to stimulate the receiving partner to have it.

As with tantric sex and other more sensual sexual practices, karezza has become popular in recent years with couples trying to find their true intimacy and connection in their relationship.

Benefits of the karezza method:

1. You explore other forms of pleasure than the orgasm.

For many people, sex is mainly about having an orgasm, which can actually lead to you getting distracted and not really enjoying the sex. If you take this goal away, then you are free to focus entirely on the sensations, without worrying about what it "builds up" to. As Levison said, the goal is to be fully present in the moment.

For people who get stressed out during sex (which is usually due to the idea that your sexual performance isn't enough), letting go of the O target can be a burden off the shoulders. When sex is about the journey and not the destination, it creates the space to truly enjoy what each sensation is in itself, without fear of where it leads.

It creates more affection than other forms of sex.

It does so because it encourages couples to take their time caressing, touching, kissing and cuddling with each other. These actions stimulate the production of oxytocin, a neurotransmitter that creates feelings of attachment and love. By fondling each other for longer and longer, "we feel good, happy and painless," says Renee Adolphe, a sex and relationship coach who is well acquainted with karezza.

You learn to feel each other better.

“As a sex therapist, I recognize that a couple's sexual behavior is usually a symptom of what's going on in the rest of the relationship,” Levison explains. At karezza “you experience a sense of convergence… of complete unity with a partner or the experience of being on the same frequency. This unity is inherently harmonious, and when you experience harmony during sex, it usually spreads out of the bedroom on its own.”

In other words, the time you spend bonding during karezza could be the healing balm for your relationship.

It connects sex and spirituality.

Karezza began as a highly spiritual practice, daring to admit that sex is a central element of spirituality. In his important 1931 text, The Karezza Method, J. William Lloyd writes: “Sex is very close to the soul. Anyone who touches sex touches the secrets and center of life… The voice of sex, in its power, is like the voice of God.”

For the people who have learned to separate sex and faith, karezza can be a way to start reconnecting the two.

It is equally applicable to people with disabilities or chronic sexual pain.

For whom penetrative sex is not an option due to a disability or a condition that makes sex painful, the karezza method offers another way to enjoy your sexuality with a partner that is suitable for almost everyone, because it is about fondling and hugging your partner, not about penetration.

Positions, methods and tips:

Create a conscious, sensual space.

Lloyd emphasizes the importance of the right environment for karezza – ideally an intimate, romantic atmosphere in the bedroom.

“If you are novices, choose a time when you are both completely alone, without rush and when you will not be disturbed. Focus fully on your love and joy and the way you merge into oneness. Provide a warm room, with delicate and beautiful decorations; and let clothes get in the way as little as possible,” Lloyd writes. Adolphe has an addition for our modern age: “Make sure you have plenty of time, and make sure your telephones and television are turned off, because you want to be fully present being in the moment.”

As a couple, determine your intentions for the sexual session.

If you're just starting out with karezza, it's helpful if you and your partner go into the sexual session with a certain mindset about what kind of experience you're trying to create. Remember that the method is intended to connect with the whole body, not just the genitals.

“Karezza requires mental preparation,” Lloyd writes. “You must first have the understanding and conviction that the spiritual, the caressing, the soft side of the relationship is much more important, and also produces much more pleasure, than the purely sexual, and that the sexual should be secondary throughout the relationship. on this loving side; it is her means, her mediator, her fodder. Sex is certainly necessary to bring out all the good, but only under the strict guidance of and for the glory of love. … Make sure both of you think more about your love than your passion; convert your sex passion into heart passion as much as possible.”

He also emphasizes the importance of starting from a place of tenderness, rather than a sense of intensity or sexual arousal. Think relaxing hygge vibes instead of burning passion vibes.

Start slow and sensual.

Start by massaging your partner's body, or by running your fingers tenderly over their body. Pay attention to places you might normally ignore during sex. Caress your partner's face, their neck and shoulders, the sides of their waist.

Place a strong emphasis on communication. Ask your partner what feels good and how the sensations in their body feel. Tell each other where to keep their touch as you explore each other's bodies. Be direct about what gives you the most pleasure.

Compliment each other.

“As your hands caress her, tell her how beautiful her face is to you – her forehead, her hair, her lips, neck – her arms, hands, bosom, waist, the smooth curves of her limbs. Be eloquent, poetic in her praise,” Lloyd writes. “The Beloved can never be over-praised or appreciated by the Lover. Take some time for these preparatory caresses.”

Don't be afraid to make it intimate!

(Lloyd's advice is clearly aimed at men with a female partner, but can of course be used with ease regardless of your gender or sexual preference.)

Stroke their penis or vulva.

When it feels right, move down to caress your partner's genitals with that same tender touch. But remember, you're not working toward orgasm, so move slowly and watch your partner not get too close to climax. Move elsewhere if that seems to be happening.

“Keep your mind on love, not passion,” Lloyd reminds us. “Be completely relaxed physically… hold the thought of Peace.”

(Tantric yoni massage or tantric lingam massage are perfect to try during karezza.)

Use positions where you can see each other.

When you feel ready for penetration, don't switch to reverse cowgirl positions, but stick to karezza-friendly positions where you maintain eye contact and physical closeness, such as the lotus position, rocking chair, or missionary position.

If you find yourself nearing an orgasm, pause the current activity and return your focus to the fact that karezza is about emotional bonding, not climax. (For those with a penis, it may help to practice semen retention in addition to the karezza method.)

Take it easy.

Karezza is a marathon, not a sprint. Don't think you can practice it quickly in between.

“The most important thing is to be loving, benevolent and patient with yourself and with your partner. Slow, tender and affectionate are keywords to help you on your karezza journey,” says Adolphe.

The karezza method can ultimately bring you and your partner(s) closer together and increase your capacity to enjoy sex. It is a space where you are mindful of your partner, where you explore this new way of connecting with the other.

SOURCE: https://www.nieuwetijdskind.com/karezza-method-spiritual-sexual-experience-het-tryen-waard/

Recently I had it in a log WHAT MORE DOES LIFE PROVIDE TOGETHER. But there is more to enjoy all of this. And it actually comes at the right time. It ties in nicely with the previous one. Sex is much more like I wrote than the act itself. Feel each other caressing each other. Bringing you to a climax with your whole body but not through penetration. The whole body plays an important role. From your hair to your smallest toe. There are erogenous zones that play an important role in the sensual. It's all about love. Give and receive love. This can be done with clothes on up to a moment. You feel you share you give and get. Without there being any point to penetrate right away. To pull the clothes off each other's body. Looking at the other person can also make you feel a lot emotionally. Now with this it is really knowing and being able to control your body. And you have to learn that step by step. Just like you have to learn everything.

AUM NAMASTE BUDDHA BRUNO

Om Shanthi,

one must be able to connect spiritual and earthly

AUM MANI PADME HUM

That is love

Aum Shanti

Luminous but also purity and clarification.

You can let go of so much when you are so busy with each other.

#yabyum #joy #karezza #nirvana #yoga #love #meditation #unconditionallove #tantra #maithuna

Karezza - Liefkozen howto:

#karezza #yabyum #Nirvana #How #moksha #yoga #samadhi #maithuna #tantra #satori

[estellaelysian]

It burns (Ethan x MC)

A/N: This is super self indulgent and doesn’t lead anywhere so proceed on your own risk

**********

The alcohol scorched down his throat as he let his mind wander in the memories of the day, which seemed too distant now that it was over. Evening shaded into night beyond the red-brick walls of the bar – which were lined with numerous neon signs, the glow spilling onto nearby tables and people. Ethan chased the shadow of Alishka as his mind jumped from one moment to the next in all those where they had interacted with each other over the day. The image of her deep green eyes, wavy brown hair and full lips remained forever etched into his mind, giving him warmth like an eternal flame would.

It was late when he made it to this bar – Russo and Dale – but it was also when he found Boston the most loveable, shimmering in the glow of night, her streets thrumming with life and beating hearts and cheerfulness. He had taken an unnecessary walk from the hospital to his destination, wanting to feel anonymous in the dull crowd of people who were walking down the street. The permanence of the aged buildings, the restored Victorian row-houses surrounding English-style corners and the glowing yellow street lamps in South End seemed to give somewhat of a reassurance to his bruised and tired soul as he weaved his way among the sea of strangers. Walking wearily past dark shops, while the sky turned to a deep blue-black above him, he tried to find solace in the anonymity.

But now, at long last, when he found himself alone again, the unease returned, stronger than ever. He took a sip of the amber liquid, then another and then a third, but nothing seemed to ease him as he listened to the determined thud of a bass from the neighboring dive-bar. The foolish chatter around him did not drown out the rising voices inside his head – her voice and his, as they had argued in his office long into the afternoon.

That one argument had been enough to disrupt the entire balance he had built with the same woman whom he had disappointed today. But it was a mutual disappointment. She had been irrelevant to.

Shaking his head, he took another sip, letting the alcohol burn down his throat as he stared – quite intently – at the marble counter in front of him. It was amazing really, that the woman from whom he drew his strength could also be one of his greatest weaknesses. That was exactly why he had retired to his old office in the afternoon. He had lost focus, so instead of looking into patient care, he thought drowning himself into paperwork would help.

But indeed, it had not. Did it ever?

His mind, like a blissful dog scampering back to its lamppost, seemed to be stuck at the argument – making assumptions about the way she sounded, acted, spoke – no matter how much he tried to distract himself. Everything blurred around him, as if he had tuned out from his surroundings.

Why, he thought, was it so necessary for her to be insistent about things that did not matter to him? To latch onto one subject and stretch it until his patience snapped?

Or had he been truly unreasonable this time?

Oh dear God…

He swirled the gleaming liquid in its glass slowly before taking another sip, intent on numbing his brain, only that it refused from being so. Over and over again, her voice tortured him from deep inside; calling him out on the stubborn asshole he was before fading, only to return for the millionth time.

But wasn’t that the point of tonight? To get as far away as he could from the hospital, go to a bar in South End, and let the alcohol ease his pain and anxiety.

The door opened and someone stepped in, bringing together a cool Boston breeze and faint traces of wildflowers. Though his senses seemed unnaturally sharpened at this point, his eyes remained glued to his glass. But just a few seconds later, he found the woman right beside him, the scent of wildflowers much more perceptible.

Green flashed in his mind, deep and comforting, as he connected the scent, almost instinctively, to the one person it reminded him of.

Hold yourself, Ramsey.

In his peripheral vision, he saw the woman flag down the bartender and order a rainbow colored cocktail before turning away for a moment or two.

‘Quite the pain-relief, isn’t it?’ she asked in a mellifluous, sweet voice which fell like honey onto his tongue.

He could swear it was Alishka’s voice, but maybe he had dived too deep into the alcohol pain-relief. He had started imagining things.

Sensing that she was probably still expecting an answer, he nodded before looking straight at her.

And almost immediately, thought of Alishka Roy, even though he had put up a boundary between him and those insistent, maddening thoughts.

He didn’t realize it at first, but that smile – he would recognize it anywhere, anytime, no matter how detached he was.

But Alishka?

Nonsense. He was losing his mind.

‘I should’ve guessed my boss would come here after the much-exhausting day he faced at work today. It would’ve atleast saved me the time I spent wandering about.’

He raised his eyes to her face again. This was not an illusion. She was real, he thought, as he glanced at her hot coral lips which now wore an amused smile. He was not dreaming.

But why would she feel the need to wander about for him?

Do you really need an answer for that, dimwit, his mind chided.

‘Ofcourse you’d follow me here too,’ he said bluntly, battling away the sweeter responses, raising the glass to his lips.

‘You are not my boss outside of work, Dr. Ramsey. It is my freewill to do as I want to once I step outside the hospital.’

He looked up at her again, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. ‘Says the woman who bothers me all the same, inside or out.’

She made a dismissive wave, an easy laughter leaving her. ‘You’ve got a horrid sense of humor,’ she said. ‘Perhaps that is why everyone is terrified of you, even now.’

The last two words stung with an unimaginable burn, questioning the character he had spent years to build.

‘What do you mean, “even now”?’ he asked, the words coming out much more defiant than he wanted them to.

She smiled a benevolent smile as the bartender dropped off her cocktail, which smelled strongly of Pernod. Raising the glass up to meet her lips with tantalizing slowness, she said, ‘Even now, when they’ve learned that you can love something, someone more than medicine. Wholeheartedly.’

He choked on his drink involuntarily, but she went on, as if she hadn’t heard him at all. ‘And yet, at the same time, you can manage to be incredibly bitter to that someone.’

She took a long gulp of her cocktail, and again, before he could respond to her grievances, she said, ‘But anyway, I am not here to discuss that.’

Play pretend, he thought.

‘And why exactly, is it that you are here?’

‘Same as you. Pain-relief. My boss can be a real bore sometimes,’ she answered with the faintest traces of a smirk.

Let’s hear it now, shall we. ‘Who is your boss?’ he asked, going along with her little game.

‘Some world class, renowned, grumpy attending diagnostician.’

He liked how she complimented him and got a dig at him in the same sentence.

‘He seems to have a stressful job,’ he said, looking over the glass to her heavenly features, painted in the neon glow of the bar.

‘That he likes to imply. He is good at what he does.’

He nodded, trying to contemplate her answer, thinking that there would be traces of sarcasm in her answer, but found none.

‘Cheers to that,’ he said, clinking her glass with his own, their fingers brushing slightly, setting his body ablaze with the kind of fire that raged through forests. It was the closest they had got to touching that day, morning apart.

He finished the scotch in one long sip under her watchful gaze. Torture or bliss, there was no answer.

Though dulled by the excesses of the alcohol, he felt anger rise inside his body at the men who made glances in her direction, from a distance or even as they passed her. She seemed to draw much more gazes today than she did usually.

What exactly was it? Her rich brown hair, inching down her back, or those emerald eyes that gleamed with cleverness? And why, every time, did his jealousy had him to do things which he shouldn’t have been doing?

He didn’t know.

What he did know, was that he wouldn’t let those men even get near her.

So he raised a hand to her face, smoothing away stray strands of hair and tucking them behind her ear.

If she was surprised, she did not show it, but a lovely blush spread out on her cheeks, spreading down to her graceful neck and uncovered shoulders. She eyed him with a raised eyebrow, and he willfully ignored all the ideas that look gave him. Tonight was different. Even if they left the bar together, they would part ways almost as soon as they were outside, walking down in opposite directions.

Tonight they were fighting, even though it was different.

Even if he had to have his heart tugged and pulled and then torn, tonight was different.

Her emeralds met his sapphires, curious and bewitching.

He wished he could kiss those perfectly painted lips and ruin that makeup.

‘How about we make a deal then,’ she asked, setting down the glass on the paper napkin that was left on the shiny marble counter. ‘Tonight, let’s forget everything. Let’s forget that you are my irritating boss, let’s forget that I am a – what did you call me? – ah, bothersome resident. Let’s forget those men staring down at me from the opposite corner of the bar. Let’s put a pause on this battlefield, even though I am sure I can outwit you in every way, and let’ go home together.’

That was a tempting offer.

The suggestive tone and the desire burning plain in her eyes ignited his need for her.

How could he not resist her, even a single night?

His voice came out dusky when he spoke again. ‘Let’s put them topics to bed, and go fuck on the roof.’

Just to say that we did.

She smiled. ‘I’d rather your body than half of your heart,’ she said, quoting the song back to him, her voice the sweetest he had ever heard it to be.

Ethan blinked. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell her that he was far from fighting or if he wanted to claim those lips, right now, right here.

Then he saw, over her shoulder, a man whisper something to another before looking at her neck. He felt disgusted as his gaze traveled lower and lower. He was suddenly overcome by the desire to punch him in his filthy face, but he kept his expression carefully neutral, not betraying a single of the feelings he was feeling at that exact moment.

‘Let’s go home then,’ he announced, rising at once and reaching for her hand.

He led her outside into the cool crisp Boston night and she only felt justified in flagging down a cab to the way home, though it wasn’t that far away.

They could’ve walked there.

But then he wouldn’t get to do as he willed right in the cab, as he decided he need not waste a single minute of the time he had been gifted, by incidence or co-incidence, all the same. He failed to keep his hands to himself in the darkened cab, momentarily being illuminated by headlights and taillights of the passing traffic, as he crowed her into a corner, evoking soft moans. He watched her, bathed in red light, her sequined top glittering as the light shifted against her profile. Her eyes met his and he lost his sane, his coherent thoughts reducing to a small compass in his brain. Her lips commanded his attention, and he pressed his lips against them, evoking a gentle sigh as their breaths mingled. Her soft fingers grazed his rough beard as her hand rested against his cheek.

The music masked their muffled whispers and moans, but he could feel the drivers eyes, moving with unnecessary regularity, from the road ahead to the rearview mirror.

Even in the elevator, they stumbled, failing from keeping themselves from touching each other. The button to the thirteenth floor was pressed before he felt the soft pressure of her lips against his own. Her tongue was cool and sweet and tasted of Pernod.

‘Alishka…’ he managed to say between the kisses. ‘Why do we fight at all?’

‘Because we are …’ a little giggle. ‘Both … very stubborn …’

A few seconds later they stood at his door, which was unlocked with haste and shut close with a loud bang. The moment they stepped inside, he dipped his head and closed his lips over hers.

‘Nothing makes sense without you…’ he murmured into her ear, proceeding to tug her tight against him.

‘Then accept your defeat …’ she returned immediately, making a quick work of his shirt buttons. ‘But then again, we’ve called a temporary pause on this battlefield, haven’t we.’

Albeit reluctantly, he agreed. ‘We have.’

He led her to the bedroom, helping her out of her clothes before easing her down on the mattress gently, deciding the bitterness and pain had been enough for the day. The night had to be different.

Slow, gentle hands grazed the newly exposed skin with caresses too soft, before he leaned down on her, gazing into her eyes, letting his forehead rest against hers.

‘I love you.’

She giggled again. ‘I love you too.’

**********

Kudos to you guys if you made it out of this chaotic mess my brain put together. I honestly don’t know how this happened, but I guess it’s just me after a full, very real college day with loads of note-taking.

Tagging: @tenaciouslandvoidgiant @choicesaddict5 @schnitzelbutterfingers @starrystarrytrouble

Let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[kitkatopinions]

OZPIN

Ozpin for the RWBY character asks.

My top three ships for the character

Note: For these ships, I’m exclusively talking about gray-haired Professor Ozpin, and I’ve long written Oz to be at least somewhat affected by the age of his hosts, I’ve long written him to be around the same age as Ironwood and Qrow (I mean, he looks the same age and I missed Raven’s lines suggesting he was a teacher or headmaster when Team STRQ was in school,) and I’ve also long headcanoned that when he first hosted in Ozpin, the person he was hosting in chose to merge with him right away. So while he was Ozpin, there was no ‘Ozpin talks sometimes, Oz talks sometimes,’ or sharing a head. I’ve never done much shipping for Oz, but all that kind of lines up to at least make that version of him pretty shippable.

So yeah, Ozpin/Glynda could be a power couple of wholly devoted, tired, stressed caregivers trying to mentor sixty some kids at once. XD Ozpin/Amber has literally no real content, but they could look good together and she’s a non-character like Summer, but I see them as having had a lot of similarities in being kind and soft spoken. I also don’t mind Ozpin/Roman as a ‘once upon a time, Roman used to flirt with him all the time before anything went bad and Ozpin responded with amused tolerance and never really took it seriously, but a lot of their acquaintances thought they were seeing each other... Which would just make it hurt worse and be one more thing Oz blames himself for when Roman falls into a life of crime, 

My three least favorite ships for the character

Oz/Cinder, as previously stated, once someone kills someone, there’s no coming back from it. Also, he doesn’t need to get romantic advancements from any abusive manipulative magic girl who just wants to use and hurt him and abuses children on the side too. Oz/Hazel. Hazel is an abuser! He beat Oz! He blamed Oz for things that weren’t his fault and used him as an excuse for all his vile actions. Gross. And Oz/Salem takes the top spot for very obvious reasons. This one’s even more gross than Oz/Hazel.

My biggest criticism for the character

Honestly, the way he’s treated by the narrative of the show with much less sympathy than he should be. I love flawed characters, leaders that do their best but make lots of mistakes, but the narrative treated him as one hundred percent in the wrong, no discussion, and therefore deserving of Qrow hitting him (out of character moment!) and Team RWBY ripping his secrets from him forcibly, making him relive his trauma in high def, yelling at him and then being glad he was gone, and not wanting him back and then only begrudgingly and seriously accepting his apology (out of character, especially for Blake!) Especially since Ruby also didn’t have a plan and lied about potentially life saving information to an ally and then even when she made her broadcast to the world, she left out tons of information there too! Which, don’t get me wrong, is understandable for her, but the narrative should’ve recognized that she was doing the same things Ozpin did and they should’ve had her gain sympathy and understanding for him. And the narrative also gave credence to Hazel somehow, treating it seriously when he warns Oscar ‘no more Gretchens’ despite Hazel being a super abusive, murderous bastard who was trying to murder kids and making the world a worse place. I’ve had so many people tell me ‘Team RWBY are going to apologize to Ozpin and realize they were wrong to treat him the way they did,’ but it never happened. Because the writers wanted us to think of Oz as a morally gray person who had to be taught a lesson by Team RWBY, rather than an abuse victim who deserved some sympathy and understanding who shouldn’t have been abused again just for making a mistake. I don’t know why the writers thought pretending Team RWBY and Qrow were in the right would be okay, but I hate it.

My favorite thing about the character

I love Oz so much, but my favorite thing about him might be his dynamic with Qrow in seasons 3-5. Of course it all went bad in season 6, but I love a close friends, almost brothers dynamic where one does everything for the other and is wholly devoted to him, would die for him at the drop of a hat. And I love a mentor-father figure always throwing himself into protecting a kid and leaning on his shoulder while the kid is nervous, but excited and happy over it and wanting his affection and approval... And with Oz (and the headcanon that he’s affected by the age of his host,) I get both! There’s a lot more to love, but that’s my favorite thing. God, they flourish in fan fictions...

A headcanon I have about them

I already touched on some of my headcanons for him and his host, but also...‘Ozpin’ was that host’s last name, and his first name was actually Orpheus, but his team in Beacon and his inner circle only ever called him by his last name.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

Okay, so hear me out, I’d still have people get mad at him for all his secret keeping and having no plan to defeat Salem, and I’d probably still have him temporarily retreat. But A. I wouldn’t have the punch, and instead, I’d have Qrow more ‘quietly disappointed’ than anything else and he’d regret it almost immediately and feel guilty about it (even though in that case, his feelings would be valid,) and B. Blake would be on Ozpin’s side. Seriously, Blake knows what abuse feels like, she knows it’s hard to trust after, she knows Oz has been through worse, even more than she can imagine. She should’ve been standing up for him, saying that even though he was wrong to lie, she gets why. And C. I’d have the people who have a harder time understanding and especially Ruby learn and grow and start to realize how much weight was on his shoulders while they make many of the same mistakes. D. I’d have Ozpin start coming back in V7, and apologize to Qrow in private (and have Qrow apologize back,) and then I’d have him mostly silent, ‘coming out to talk’ only really to James or Qrow and communicating through Oscar when the need calls for it, and he’d kind of step down and let James (and kind of, Ruby) make the choices for the group. Ruby at the very least would apologize to him by the end of the seventh season. And I’d totally still have him kidnapped and taken to Salem because I love that sweet sweet whump, but I’d have Hazel die like the unredeemed asshole he was and I think I’d have Qrow involved in the rescue somehow.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Oz acts as both the Wizard of Oz and the Princess Ozma character merged into one allusion, and I honestly think some of it is really cleverly done. The Wizard of Oz had arrived in Oz and was treated as a god, and decided to lean into it due to Oz’s lack of current leadership and used his magician tricks to make it seem like he had magic (reflecting Oz agreeing to Salem making them seem like gods by using what was - in their world - perfectly ordinary magic, which Oz did in an attempt to grant leadership to a world he was tasked with improving.) The Wizard is treated as a king in Oz and is presented as a magic infallible solution to all of Dorothy (and her group’s) problems, only for that to be proven to not be the case, as he can only grant temporary pacifying placebos (reflecting Oz’s attempts to keep Salem back and present a false time of peace to the world while fighting a secret war that he has no plan to be able to end.) The wizard temporarily leaves the Land of Oz only to return to it later (like Ozpin dying only to come back,) and when he returns, he acts as a guide to Dorothy and dumps plot exposition about his origins (guiding the kids, the Lost Fable,) and is then permitted to remain in the Land of Oz by a magic girl who is the true leader (reflective of Ruby and the group ‘graciously’ letting him stay in their group.) Then, there’s Princess Ozma, the extremely benevolent and kind ageless fairy princess, descended from a long line of fairy princess’s, who is the rightful ruler of the land of Oz. Princess Ozma was friendly to outsiders and disliked violence, preferring peaceful solutions to conflict, and when she was first introduced in the books, it was while trapped in the body of a young boy named ‘Tip’ with no recollection of the life as Princess Ozma. I think all of that pretty obviously lines up with Ozma/Ozpin the RWBY character really well! I don’t mind this conjoined character allusion. I’m actually pretty dang fond of this one, I think this (along with Sun) is one of the few well done character allusions in RWBY.

[bastillewolf]

It’s More About Looks Than Skill (VIII)

Pairing: Ryuk/Reader

Summary: Ryuk finds himself gaining feelings for Light Yagami’s best friend, but she doesn’t know he exists. When he makes the grave mistake of touching her, he makes things a lot more complicated.

Notes: I’m back... I told you I wasn’t giving up on this fic, I just needed some time to get over myself. I’ve plotted down the whole story and its ending, so you don’t have to worry about me not finishing this. It might take some time, but I’ll try not to post once every two months. Sorry, once again!

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list! If I wasn’t able to tag you, please check your settings and send me another ask.

@sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @rustypotatospork​ @mantisandthemoondragon @baby-queen-girl​ @itscalledtrust​ @emilyshurley​ @killtherandomness​ @selmeuuh​ @felicity291​ @mahou-no-momo​​ @bakarinnie​​ @beccawinter​​ @chantelle-c333​​ @ria-demon29​​

Chapter VIII

It wasn’t until she’d said goodbye to Soichiro and stepped through the hospital doors into the night’s breeze, did she hear Light speak again. She was standing miraculously placed behind a large bush, where they wouldn’t notice her. It seemed the young man waited to see if anyone stepped through the doors before deciding to continue his talk with the God of death hovering in the air behind him.

“Ryuk.”

“Hm?”

“I never once felt cursed since I picked up the Death Note. In fact, the thought never even crossed my mind. I’m happier than I’ve ever been, all thanks to this power. I’m going to create a perfect world.”

“Honestly, I could care less whether you feel cursed or happy to have a notebook. I’ll leave that sentimental crap to you humans. But… Normally humans who come into contact with a Shinigami have nothing but misfortune.”

“That’s interesting. But I have no intentions of repeating that pattern.”

She only allowed her lungs to release the air they’d been holding long after she could no longer hear his footsteps walking off. And only then did she allow herself to finally feel what she’d felt in the pit of her stomach all this time; fear.

 ***

“Are you seeing this?” Lights voice carried over the walkie-talkie, but her attention was directed entirely towards what the TV in front of her was broadcasting. Since phones had become a danger as of late, she’d suggested going for a more old-school approach, if it was only to be able to contact Light when her house was feeling a bit too empty. Which was happening more and more frequently.

She hummed in response.

“Even if you don’t agree with me, all I ask is that you not publicise your views in the media. If you can do that, you will be spared. All you have to do now, is be patient. I will create a better world that we can all enjoy. Say goodbye to the world as you know it. Soon, we’ll have a new world ruled by benevolence inhabited by kind-hearted, honest people. Try to imagine it; a world where the police and I-“

“Switch channels. Now.”

She did as was asked of her, and was faced with the collapsed figure of Ukita, a taskforce member she’d just met only a few days prior. “Light… you didn’t-?”

“Of course it’s not me, you fool. I wouldn’t be so reckless. Now L will think I don’t need a name to kill someone. This impersonator is ruining all my plans!”

“Calm down, Light. This might work in our favour. You and I both know L will take all possibilities into consideration, so it could very well be that he’s already figured out about this person acting as a second Kira.”

“Ryuk-“ she heard some muffled noises in the background, “-didn’t give another Death Note to anyone, did you?”

“I only had two,” she could make out, “and I’m surely not stupid enough to give away my second one.”

“Light, please look back at the screen.”

“Hm?”

“A vehicle has just driven through the front of the station!”

“Well, that’s one way to stop the broadcast.”

It took a while, but eventually a police car arrived at the scene. And another, and another, until the whole building was surrounded.

“That’s… Soichiro? Light, that’s your father!”

“There you have it! The police refused to cooperate with Kira! Instead, they are prepared to fight. And, as much as I fear for my own life while saying so, this is right, and it must be done! Kira has become a very threat to our constitution, and as citizens, we must fight back. I am NHN’s Golden News anchor, Kouki Tanakabara.”

***

“I can only say it’s a shame that the answer is no, it’s clear that the police wish to oppose me.”

“How and why is this being broadcasted?” she asked, scooting Light’s chair closer to the television on his desk. It was the next day, and Sakura TV was airing the Kira imposer’s tapes once more.

“This will not go unpunished. So, I’ll start by either taking the life of the director-general of the NPA, or the detective known as L, who is currently leading the investigation against me. The director-general, or L? Who will pay the price in your refusal to cooperate in the creation of a peaceful world? You have four days to decide.”

Light let out a small chuckle. “You were right all along. There is no need to worry.”

“Really?”

“It would appear that another Shinigami has come to the human world, and somehow that Shinigami’s Death Note has fallen into the hands of someone who agrees with Kira. And this person most likely the Shinigami Eyes, which makes him very deadly. His power to kill surpasses even mine.”

“Or her,” she corrected him, to which he rolled his eyes.

“One thing is for certain, if I leave things I’m pretty sure L will be finished off within the next four days. However, I can’t forgive this imposter for the way he’s tarnishing Kira’s image with his senseless killings. Not to mention if he slips and gets caught, the Death Note will be discovered and that I can’t allow. I cannot afford to leave him alone for much longer.”

“Oh, now I definitely hope it’s a girl. If only to watch you struggle.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t struggle with girls,” he protested.

“You’re right. But let’s just say that it wouldn’t surprise me if you turned out gay.”

“Please do shut up.”

 ***

It wasn’t long before L had invited both of them to his secret location. They were currently standing in front of the quirky hotel, after a reasonably lengthy train ride.

“I suppose your father couldn’t have just picked us up?” she asked.

Light shook his head. “That would’ve looked too suspicious. Right now, it just looks like we’re trying to escape our parents by booking a hotel room.”

“Aw, Light,” she cooed, latching onto his arm playfully, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

He pulled up his nose in irritation, and she felt the Shinigami that had been holding her hand subtly stiffen. “What- what does that mean?”

“Don’t even bother asking, Ryuk,” Light replied.

“I’ll remind you to behave, Light,” she reminded him, “L probably knows this Kira is a copycat because of the fact that they didn’t need a name to kill the person, and you’d do well to think about the possibility that he might have wanted for that last tape to be broadcasted. I’m not sure how you’re going to get out of this one, as you can either choose to be ignorant, or speak up about your ‘deductions’.”

“Hm.”

“God, I hope it’s gonna be a girl.”

 ***

A short introduction followed between Light and the task force, as she simply gave them all a polite smile. She’d told Light briefly about them, as they’d met once or twice when she had her meetings in the café with L beforehand. At first, Light had been appalled by the fact that she knew more about these men that he did, but eventually did accept the fact that he now had someone who was apparently a more trusted figure in L’s mind.

And as expected, tapes were shown to both of them.

“Do you mind if I ask Light to make his deductions first?” L asked her.

She shook her head. “I understand. You’ve talked to me more than you have with Light. Go ahead.”

“So, what do you make of this, Light? Have you come to any conclusions?”

…

…

…It’s a test.

“It’s hard to say, but there might be another person out there with Kira’s power.”

And so it begins.

 You may also write the cause and/or details of death prior to filling in the name of the individual. Be sure to insert the name in front of the written cause of death. You have about 19 days (according to the human calendar) in order to fill in a name.

 “Are you sure you’re gonna pull this off? Pretending to be Kira, I mean?” she nudged him jokingly.

“I sure hope so. As long as I don’t start stuttering like I used to when I was a kid while we go live,” Light replied, almost too innocently. She knew all he wanted to do right now was strangle her for her comment, which is why she made it now; so he couldn’t.

“You used to stutter? Doesn’t seem very like you, Light,” L noted.

“Oh, he did,” Soichiro fondly recalled, “I remember those two reading out loud in Light’s room, giving a presentation to a whole group of stuffed animals, until he stuttered no more. I was so proud of you that day.”

Light shifted in embarrassment, clearly wanting this conversation to go back to business. “Ryuuzaki, does this look okay? I think I managed to make it believable.”

L picked up the sheet of paper. “Hm, I think you’ve done an excellent job with this. However, if we don’t omit the part that says, ‘you’re free to kill L’, then I’m gonna end up dead.”

What a dumbass.

Light laughed accordingly, “Sorry, I guess I got carried away playing the part. I figured if I was him I’d probably demand that he be killed. I was improvising, feel free to change it to whatever you like.”

“Sounds good. Say, just to make sure nothing happens, I’d have Aihara read the script during broadcast. It’s just as a precaution.”

“Of course.”

What a shame.

 ***

They’d sat down in front of the television once more, which seemed to be a more regular occurrence these days. Soichiro met her gaze.

“Sweetheart, do you have any idea when your parents are coming back?”

She shook her head, “They usually let me know the day before. Their schedules are too erratic these days to be able to plan home visits ahead.”

She knew he pitied her when she’d said ‘home visits’. Parents shouldn’t be visiting their home. They should visit work, and be home.

“But they let me know they’re getting all of the divorce papers finalized, and that because of their absence they think it would be best to keep the house until I move out.”

“Your parents are getting divorced?” Light asked, genuinely surprised, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shrugged. “They told me when we still weren’t on speaking terms because of our fight. Guess it slipped my mind.”

“Well, you’re always welcome to stay at our house, if you’re missing the comfort,” Soichiro reminded her, for which she was grateful. “I was wondering though - and please tell me if I’m stepping out of line here - haven’t you connected with anyone else yet in school?”

“…Connected, sir?”

“W-Well, you know what I mean-“

“…Oh, uh- No, not really.”

“Well, it’s not any of my business anyway, but while your father is gone, please do tell me if you need me to give a young man a stern look.”

She giggled quietly, her cheeks reddening. “Thank you, mister Yagami. But I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“That reminds me,” Light said, “I think I kind of promised someone you’d go out with them.”

“What?”

Ryuk held his breath.

[lailyn]

Gone Before Light

(A big thank you to my beta @arabesqueangel 😘)

Sanctum Sanctorum

 

Doctor Stephen Strange cleared his throat. It was not loud but the sound carried all the same, and the quorum of Guardians in attendance quieted down. 

"Let's call this meeting to order. I'm sure we all have somewhere else to be?"

"Sorcerer Supreme." A thin, elderly Master wasted no time cutting to the chase. "Loki has been sighted in several villages in rural Bavaria."

Master Kuroda, one of the Guardians of the Hong Kong Sanctum, reared her head in alarm. "Did you not say he was in Austria? Some of my people are still there looking for him."

"That was last week. You would know had you attended every meeting without fail, Master Kuroda," Wong said dryly.

"You promised us there would be free sandwiches, Master Wong. Bagels would have been fine too, seeing how we are in the Big Apple," Kuroda said teasingly. 

With an apologetic nod, she turned to address the Sorcerer Supreme who was sitting at the head of the table. 

"I apologise for my recent absence, Master Strange. A strange phenomenon was reported in the glaciers in the Qilian Mountains, and while Master Sjogren went out to investigate, I stayed behind. I could not leave the Hong Kong Sanctum unguarded, not with Loki of Asgard still at large.”

"Fair enough." Stephen nodded. At the curious look on Wong's face, he added helpfully. "It was bleeding."

"The Sanctum?"

"The mountain. The melting glacier was bleeding blood into the Yangtze River, causing massive panic."

"Blood?" Wong's mouth parted slightly. He braved a guess, "Loki?"

Master Kuroda made a strangled noise, her face pained. "You would think so given all his gasconade, but no, it was not the God of Mischief's doing. Having said that, the real explanation behind the phenomenon was just as alarming, only a lot less threatening.”

Stephen seemed to be hiding a smile, visible only in the twinkling of his eyes. “I’m sure it was.”

Kuroda whispered to Wong. “Turned out to be an algae problem.”

“That’s a bit of an oversimplification, but if it puts people’s minds to rest, I am happy to move on to our next agenda,” Stephen said, his countenance sombre once more. He turned his attention to the Guardian who had spoken first. “Could you elaborate on the situation in the Bavarian Alps, Master Forsyth?”

"Yet another child has succumbed to grievous injuries. Whoever did this, they have claimed seven lives. And there are five more nights to go till the Twelfth Night.”

"We do not know for certain that Loki is responsible for the murders," Stephen said.

"He has eluded capture time after time. If that is not an admission of guilt, I don't know what is," Master Forsyth argued.

"A confession," Stephen said simply. "Which we do not have."

"We could wring one out of him," Forsyth insisted stubbornly.

"Clearly you have not met the man, Master Forsyth," Stephen remarked dryly. "I will be sure to introduce you to him the next time he pops up on our radar."

"Speaking of which, you need to be careful, Sorcerer Supreme," Master Kuroda said gravely. "I sense him close."

Wong frowned. "How close?"

"Very. In fact - "

"A residual signature," Stephen interrupted. "There is no need to panic."

"Wait. Loki of Asgard was here?" Master Forsyth demanded. "Why was the London Sanctum not notified? We could have helped."

"We had it under control," Stephen answered coolly.

Wong gave his friend a sharp side-glance. We did? It silently asked.

"I...engaged him in conversation."

"Some conversation," Wong grumbled under his breath. "I have never seen you in such a state."

A collective clamor of alarm erupted from around the table.

"A mediatory conversation," Stephen amended. “Almost all conflict could be avoided with diplomacy and good old common sense. We cannot afford an all-out war with both the God of Mischief and the God of Thunder, who will definitely take his brother’s side.”

“Not unless we are in the right,” Kuroda argued heatedly. 

“It is a false accusation,” Stephen said through clenched teeth. “It will not hold.”

"Was he attempting to steal the Time Stone then?” Another Master gasped. “Master Strange, we must act quickly and subdue him. Loki of Asgard is a threat, no matter what the treaty says."

"Be that as it may, we will not turn this into a diplomatic incident," Stephen said calmly. "King Thor truly believes his brother has fully reformed. If Loki has indeed strayed, he has Thor to answer to." 

“Do you know something we don’t?” Never let it be said that Kuroda was not the sharpest tool in the shed. 

Stephen’s only answer was a benevolent smile, but Wong, being the closest person to him, knew just how close his friend was to losing his composure. 

Looking at the unhappy faces all around, Wong could only guess at what the others were thinking, but his loyalty, as always, lay with Stephen. “What do you suggest we do, Sorcerer Supreme?” 

“Resume active surveillance but do not engage,” Stephen ordered. “Retaliate only if necessary to protect yourself and civilians but do not provoke him. Loki must not be - “ he hesitated, “I do not wish to see any of you harmed.” 

Before anyone could speak further, Stephen swept to his feet.

“We are adjourned.”

God, he hated meetings. 

**********************

“You do know it’s just rusty water, don’t you? The bleeding glacier?”

“I saw a feature on National Geographics once, so yes, I suspected it was something similar.”

“And you did not care to share the knowledge with your servants?”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “They are not my servants, Odinson. God, you sound so medieval sometimes.”

“I was on that expedition,” Loki reminisced. “Caused a bloody uproar when they saw it.”

“What expedition?” Stephen asked, not particularly interested but wanting to make conversation all the same, much too nervous to start anything else. The night was still young and he did not want it to end too quickly, not that he would admit it out loud.

“The geologist who discovered the Blood Falls in Antarctica was a friend,” Loki said. “They named it after him, the Taylor Glacier. From the plateau of Victoria Land, it flows south of the Asgard Range and into the western end of Taylor Valley. It was truly a marvelous sight.”

Stephen glanced at his companion out the corner of one eye. He could usually tell if Loki was pulling his leg, but the smile on Loki’s face looked so wistful and sad that he could very well be second-guessing himself. 

“That’s...an eerie coincidence, to have named it after your home.”

“They named it wrong,” Loki muttered. “But you’re right. It felt like home. Just the wrong one.”

“What do you mean?”

Loki ignored his question, heaving a pensive sigh instead. “It has been more than a hundred years, can you believe it? How time flies.”

“Must have been a special friend,” Stephen said. 

Loki shrugged. “I have a special friend for every century.”

Stephen swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. "Good for you."

If Loki was discomfited by Stephen's obvious discomfort, he did not show it. "Have your underlings finally left us alone?"

"They are not my underlings."

Loki's mouth curled into a cruel twist. "You give orders. They do as you bid." 

Stephen stared at Loki's lips. By the time the night was over, they would not be as rosy. 

"You tell me to kiss you all the time and I oblige. Does that make me yours?"

Loki's coquettish little smirk deepened into a mysterious smile. "Not all the time."

Stephen did not press him further; asking Loki to specify which question he was replying to would be pushing him into a corner, metaphorically speaking.

And the only corner Stephen was interested in trapping Loki in…

He bodily pressed Loki against the wall. "Are you timing this?"

"Why? Have you got somewhere else to be?" Loki whispered teasingly.

Stephen shook his head. "Not tonight, no. I have you to thank for it, I suppose."

"Yes, we Pagan Gods do as we please. When the mood strikes there is no telling what we can do."

Stephen studied Loki surreptitiously, sensing the darkness lurking beneath a facade of false joviality. 

"Why won't you let me tell them?" He asked quietly.

"Tell what to whom?"

"We have been tracking the Spinnstubenfrau for months," Stephen said. "The Order thinks you are responsible for the spate of mysterious child deaths across Europe."

"I would never hurt a child," Loki snarled. 

Stephen's growl was equally indignant, "I know."

Loki shoved Stephen away from him and began to pace. "Is it so important to you? That I should clear my name?"

"Why isn't it important to you?" Stephen demanded.

"It does not matter, Strange. What matters is that Frau Perchta has once again been banished to the depth of Hell." Loki cocked his head. "Your Hell, I hope. I have a feeling she's Hela's type, what with her affinity for slitting children's bellies and stuffing their corpses with hay."

Stephen went quiet when a new question popped inside his head. "How did you catch her by the way?" 

"Same as how you would catch any other being of superior powers. You don't go chasing them, you make them come to you."

"You plied her with magic? Blood?" Stephen raised an eyebrow. "Candy?"

Loki returned the sardonic smile with a haughty one of his own. "I shifted form into that of a child, of course."

A chill suddenly down the back of Stephen's spine.

The Sorcerer Supreme marched across the room with such speed that Loki found himself taking a step back for every one Stephen took, and soon they were right back where they started with Loki's back pressed against the wall; only this time, Stephen was roughly tugging Loki's tunic free off the waistband and pulling it up.

"My, my, Doctor…" Loki made a half-hearted attempt at coyness, but Stephen nipped it in the bud. 

"Shut up." Stephen ran his hand down the length of the clean, snow-white torso, just to be sure. Loki was the Master of Deception after all.

Loki pried Stephen's roaming fingers off his belly gently. "I am unharmed."

Stephen looked set to shower Loki's face with kisses but then restricted himself to a surly mutter. "Just checking. Thought I smelled blood."

"Well, whatever you're smelling, it isn't mine," Loki reassured him. "Here."

Stephen studied the vial Loki slipped into his palm. It contained a shrivelled husk of something he could not identify straight away. 

"The old crone's heart. Feel free to do with it as you wish." Loki pinched Stephen's cheek. "You are adorable when you fret."

Stephen turned his face away and rubbed at his wounded cheek. "I don't fret."

"Aww. Here I thought you were worried about me."

"And what if I were?" Stephen challenged.

"You should not be," Loki said swiftly. After a careful pause, "You will only ruin my reputation."

Stephen snorted. "Right. Coz it’s been so stellar lately."

"Exactly," Loki chirped. 

A wave of melancholy descended over them, and Stephen was not entirely sure whom it belonged to. 

"Strange, is something the matter?" 

Stephen looked away, refusing to meet Loki's probing gaze. 

"Precious?" Out of all the juvenile things Loki could have picked, he had chosen for Stephen the one nickname so ridiculous it stuck. 

What was one more deviation from normal, one more reality-defying anomaly after everything Stephen had allowed to happen?

"Can't say," Stephen muttered.

Loki was nothing if not tenacious. "Show me, then."

"Kiss me," Stephen mumbled numbly. "Kiss me and you'll know."

Loki's head dipped low and caught Stephen's lower lip with a nip of his teeth. 

Loki's kisses tonight were raucous, hungrier than usual, the pulse of his heartbeat a kaleidoscope of butterflies under Stephen's fingertips as his hands roamed the expanse of Loki's chest and belly once more, travelling southward with every kiss...and Loki tasted fantastic.

After a kill, Loki had never looked more glorious, from the flush of his cheeks to the iridescent fire in his eyes…

He was the most beautiful thing Stephen had ever seen. 

As much as Stephen coveted this ideal of having something so perfect be his alone, he wished he could share Loki with the world, so the world could see the notorious Trickster God through his eyes, all the good Loki could do and already had done, all the good he could be.  

Against his will, Stephen's arms tightened around Loki's waist, but as always, holding Loki was like holding water; he could never hold Loki tight enough. 

"I appreciate the gesture, Doctor…" Loki murmured against his lips, now swollen and bruised and raw, "but your concern is misplaced."

Feeling his knees go weak all of a sudden, Stephen conjured an armchair and dropped down heavily, only realising that he was pulling Loki's hand with him when Loki would not budge.

"Can't you stay?"

"Say it like you mean it," Loki said softly, "then maybe I will reconsider." 

Stephen chose to call Loki's bluff. "Stay." 

Loki sighed. "As much as I enjoy our little tryst, Strange...you enjoy the power more."

"What power?"

"Your title. The Sorcerer Supreme." Loki's eyes strayed to the Cloak of Levitation hovering over the mantelpiece, ever at Stephen's every beck and call. "You can't be with me without giving it up."

Stephen's chest constricted. "I can't." 

"And that…" Loki sat in Stephen's lap and wrapped his arms around the back of his human lover's neck, "is the only reason why I am still here."

Stephen basked in the radiance of Loki's aura, the intoxicating scent of old magic and power, the crushing weight of Loki's body pressed against his -

"It's about the only thing you have going for you. Aside from your hair." 

Loki may sound teasing but his eyes hid a sadness Stephen would not have gleaned had he not spent hours studying those mesmerising green eyes, in sleep and in wake.

"You like my hair?" Stephen asked. 

Loki teased the strands of white at his temple. Against the light of the roaring fire, they glistened like silver.

"It's pretty," Loki said simply.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could give you what you want."

Stephen's forlorn apology only stoked the fire in the pit of Loki's stomach.

"You can't know the true extent of my heart's desires, Sorcerer," Loki scoffed. "You don't even know yours."

"One night," Stephen whispered before could stop himself. "That is all I want."

Loki's hard stare softened. "We can't afford it."

Stephen did not draw attention to Loki's display of vulnerability, and Loki did not fixate on the irony behind Stephen's singular plea. 

You ask for the same thing every time I see you, Loki had teased him once. 

Stephen had only smiled that infuriating all-knowing smile of his and said, Only because I know you will never say yes.

"Another time then." Stephen imagined running a thumb up the sleek slope of Loki's cheekbone. "Another place."

Loki opened his eyes slowly. He saw the longing in Stephen's gaze, and his heart throbbed at the sight of it. 

It was the most cruel thing he had ever seen in his life. His heart twinged again with a deep, pulsating ache that almost had him reaching up to soothe it. 

He reached out to touch Stephen's face instead. 

"In another life," Loki murmured. 

Another life where they were free to be whoever, and with whoever they wanted to be. 

"Do you promise?" Stephen asked quietly.

"I promise," Loki acquiesced. "If you can find me."

I am yours. 

"Live a long, long life…" Loki brushed his lips against Stephen's softly, tenderly, "Even without me." 

"Loki - "

"Goodbye."

"Loki, wait!"

But the weight had lifted off, leaving Stephen's thighs empty and tingling with want, his hands grabbing at empty air.

The taste of Loki's lips lingered long after he left. Such was the fate of the chosen, and as Stephen sat in the dark of the night, cold and alone and cursed, he wept.

[ronnytherandom]

I forgot to watch content all week so i wrote about games ive been playing

9/2/2021: The Truman Show

You should fear your fears but embrace them and use them to guide you into the unknown, to explore and experience what life has to offer. Fear stands between you and the fullest experience of life so you must pass through it to better yourself. Heed not the walls built about you and the chains made to hold you. Though the architects insist it will preserve your life, containment is anathema to life. Do not take in faith the benevolence of powers that be; instead trust those who would support and liberate you, guide you through fear and into life.

As best I can lay it out, I think this is the philosophy of the Truman show but there is so much more to read into it also. There is critique of systems of commodification and celebrity (i.e. capitalism) reducing human beings to a consumable good as well as encouragement to find and pursue your goals despite adversity and even sensibility which is also tied to the illusion of economic responsibility. You can’t put a camera inside a human head, you can never “know” them without being an active and intrinsic part of their life, but also there is need for reciprocation. If one half exists with ulterior motive then the entire relationship is rotten; sincere humanity is what creates real connections. Without such your world is fake. A world built around one person is a world where no one can truly live. All these actors have given up basically their entire lives for the sake of watching Truman have his life built around him by outside forces, have allowed themselves to be commodified and dehumanised for the good of one man, Christoph. The man at the top has delusions of grandeur and thinks only of his own bottom line, he cares not for his subjects but simply wants them to do as he tells them because it benefits him to commodify their lives and interactions. Even then he cannot stand to lose control and in seeking to demonstrate Truman’s “realness” he structures his life so thoroughly that eventually there’s no reality left, only a script and adverts. But the people watching still empathise with Truman because everyone in the working class understands what it is to be trapped because real life is our own Truman show and one day we must all pass through fear, step out of the dome and create a real life for ourselves outside of the system of commodification which consumes everyone’s life and removes all realness and sincerity and emotional catharsis from it.

I unreservedly love this film.

14/2/2021: Assorted Game Reviews

Horizon Zero Dawn (Unfinished due to technical issues, 45 hours inc. parts of Frozen Wilds): This game is really cool and really fun. I think it is defined by its incredible setting which somehow creates a fresh feeling post-apocalyptic environment. Said environment creates intriguing alt-future lore and some very interesting environments to explore. I love the machine designs (especially tallnecks!) and was very sad to hear one of their contributing artists passed away recently but I’m glad their work lives on in this visually stunning game. I’m a sucker for Ubisoft-style open world games simply because it tickles a certain kind of itch and somehow this non-Ubisoft game has outdone Ubisoft on their own formula, which is hilarious, but also good for me as running around this world exploring and clearing map markers is engaging fun. Not least because of the combat. I have a minor criticism here that the combat feels slightly awkward on mouse and keyboard, the arrows never seem to go where I’m aiming, but aside from that the experience of fighting is a grand one. Enemies never lose their threat and I love the weak spot system the game employs which makes every tool useful in niche circumstance and rewards curiosity. It specifically manages this in a way that I feel the Witcher series could learn from if it ever returns; by making head on assault less viable and encouraging tactical hunting. I do feel this system makes hunting robots so fun that by contrast hunting humans becomes a chore however, though I noted this improves in the dlc with the addition of humans with elemental weaknesses limited in number as they are. I cannot speak for the story in entirety but what I encountered was pretty good, though I feel as if it was only just really getting going at the point where I could not continue. I find Aloy to be a compelling and well portrayed protagonist and though I can guess about her origin and the ultimate end of the alt-future apocalypse I still want to see how it plays out on screen, so will return to this as soon as I’ve fixed it.

Rimworld (122 hours. Familiar with but do not own Royalty Expansion):

Rimworld is one of those super special games that I don’t think I have a single problem with. Fair warning it can be brutal and is heavily dependent on RNG but this allows it to create truly unique and interesting scenarios on a constant basis. In the wider perspective it could be described as formulaic, with regular cycles of managing the settlement between raids and random events, but the devils in the details. Colonist traits, health and skills dictate how you play and sometimes you’ll be forced to adapt as some colonists simply refuse to perform some tasks. The depth of health particularly amuses me, in that each little part of someone’s body is modelled in a way. If you’re in a firefight you may take a single bullet which grazes your finger and you’re fine. Alternately it could pierce your human leather cowboy hat, your skull and kill you instantly and the game will tell you exactly what happened. The risk/reward element is addictive enough, and that’s without accounting for just how cool it is to see your colony slowly expand. Establishing more and more options for crafting is fun and shows off the full range of different items in the game which is fucking extensive. Between clothing, weapons, armour, sculpture and drugs to name only a few you have the opportunity to create many varied production lines either for your colonists or to trade for money and there is a lot of fun to be had here as well as it is quite satisfying to see psychoid you have grown personally become the cocaine your colonists snort to help them stay awake on limited sleep. From an archaeologist’s perspective it is especially cool to look back over your base and see the hints of how and why structures were built and remember the history of your limitations and development through structure. I think the lore of the universe is really cool too, a very 40k-esque kind of place except with far less order, somehow. But the universe does an excellent job of feeling alive and moving constantly on both a planetary and interstellar level. You can fully believe that while you build wooden shacks to shield yourself from terrifyingly low temperatures there are simultaneously rich pieces of shit living it up on the glitterworld that’s one system over. The music does an excellent job of creating the wild west frontier atmosphere the game cultivates to great effect. Ultimately, for just being a grid with a series of different numbers attached, this game does a fantastic job of creating a compelling, brutal and very real colony management experience. I dont think I can properly put into words the grandness and scope of this one. I didnt even mention the modding scene, which is expansive and tailors to basically any need you could have. The Rim is a terrifying place but theres so much fun to be had.

Factorio (86 hours, mostly 1.1): Having completed a game of Factorio I can tell you reliably that this is one of the best games ever made, thoroughly addictive and fun. If you like numbers, logistics, TRAINS, its gonna be your thing. Not to mention its probably the only documented case of a game with no bugs (so far as official forums are concerned). Strictly speaking this games combat is not the most engrossing thing but good lord do you feel it when you acquire a flamethrower. The way each aspect of the game (production, research, logistics, combat, upgrades for everything therein) feeds into the next is a really well constructed balancing act such that you must experience the full game in order to complete it and I always appreciate this kind of design. I think its one of the best tenets of factory game design especially as its something present in Satisfactory too. Beyond all of this generalised good the game is also excellent in its intricacies, the architecture necessary to build a maximum efficiency base, the level of planning and organisation that can be employed is mind-blowing. Not to mention the mod community, factorion is already an extensive experience and some mad bastards have seen fit to complicate it further, hats off to them. This really is a great moment in gaming.

 Destiny 2 (198 hours, all expansions, played some post Forsaken release, mostly Season of Arrivals onwards, spent roughly £20 on microtransactions):

This is a very interesting and enjoyable experience, but I must say it can be a bit controversial at times. What its does particularly well is moment to moment gameplay and design in all aspects. The game is stunning; between environments, cosmetics, shaders ships and ghosts there’s a vast range of incredible things to see, all rooted in the “pseudo-magi-science” aesthetic it’s got going on. The class design is excellent and you really do feel like you embody this rampaging madman / agile gunman / space wizard archetype, whichever you choose to play. The abilities, especially supers, are very satisfying. Everything has heft and power behind it which can be felt in all aspects of design; sound and animation is top notch. Movement is cool, you can feel how fast you move both on foot and in vehicles and the navigation has a little fun subtlety depending on your class jump, even if you can bounce unpredictably occasionally. But for the love of god why is the wall kick in there? It has only ever served to push me from a ledge into a bottomless pit. You're looking to remove antiquated content? Start there. Some guns are not so good to shoot but there’s such a great range of guns that are fun its like complaining about one drop in an ocean; and enemies are fun to shoot at, each faction distinct in meaningful ways and presenting an effective challenge. Speaking of oceans, that’s one way to describe the lore. I haven’t dived too deep but it keeps going down forever and everything I’ve read is intriguing. As a former Elder Scrolls lore nut this is something I could definitely sink my teeth into, though its much more of a pulpy sci-fi vibe than a pure nonsense vibe. I do think the game has a bit of a loot problem, primarily in regards to the conflict between high stats and looking good. This should never be a conflict, and yes you can apply ornaments to any purple gear but that’s not enough when I spend the entire time grinding power levels and thus must change armour and weapons on a constant basis to progress. This game needs a true transmog system and if not that, rethink how gear power level works. Perhaps rather than earning new instances of gear you always possess a version of it and the loot you acquire in missions just upgrades your instance to your current overall power level? This would serve to do away with the current upgrade system which I think is a needless additional grind. Perhaps it could be retained in using enhancement cores to empower gear as present but necessitating a whole upgrade module to keep your favourite weapon on hand is kind of painful honestly. There is also at present the issue of sunsetting gear, mildly controversial to say the least. If it’s necessary to streamline the game and make it function moving forward so be it but surely loot pools should be adjusted so you can actually get useful loot from older locations? And why sunset personal instances of gear which can be acquired at the regular power level anyway? I had to throw away my favourite bow and hunt down a new version of the exact same weapon for… what reason? I do think destination navigation leaves a little to be desired also. I get that having a physical hub world is meaningful but Destiny does not have a very extroverted community; I can count the times someone noticed me in the tower on one hand. And its not even like there’s fun activities to be found in the same sense as say Deep Rock Galactic, which really does take advantage of its hub. Perhaps for players who simply want to go about their business all of the vendors could be set into a menu system where just clicking an icon takes you to their menu from anywhere in the system rather than, per se, having to go through an entire loading screen (Which takes you to orbit and back) to reach a location which serves simply as the front for four menus. These are established player problems. As a dedicated PvE player I can say that this game is immensely fun in combat and growing in power does feel really good. It’s something I recommend getting into, there’s just some very large creases that need ironing which the Bungie should really take the time to address rather than pushing out new in game content every three months.

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 7: The Invisible Cage

Chapters: 7/?

Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe

Rating: PG

Warnings: Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now),

Characters: Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  Loki and his servant discuss the nature of freedom.

You found yourself hiding in your apartment for several hours that day. Loki had gotten a call-the first you could remember-and had instantly bid you leave his presence. In fact, he said he would have preferred you leave the building altogether, but it was suddenly pouring outside, so you'd opted to hide out in your room instead.

You didn't know what would cause him to act that way, but you'd tried to use the time to take a nice relaxing nap. But the sound of rushing wind had rattled the tower, and someone had entered Loki's apartment without bothering to be quiet about it.

Shortly after that, the shouting had begun.

So much for napping.

You opened your door just a crack, and peered out into the round living space down the hall.

Thor was there.

THE Thor, the God of Thunder himself, the only man you'd ever thought might make a good case for monarchy.

He was pacing back and forth in front of Loki, gesticulating broadly, both of them speaking in raised voices. You didn't understand the language at all, it was round and bouncy, with long rolled R's, and rock hard consonants. They didn't seem to be fighting; this was not a shouting match with each other. This looked like shared anger, a common indignance over some other subject.

They discussed loudly with one another, Thor standing across from Loki, around the little table where you shared meals. He was drawing something in a note book, tapping the paper for emphasis, while Loki took up the pen and drew something else. Eventually, the loudness died down, both men becoming absorbed in whatever plan or problem they were going over, and you hid back away in your rooms, satisfied that there wasn't going to be a fight.

They were more than a little frightening when they shouted. There was power in those ancient voices, and it jellied your insides. What must it have been like for people, hundreds of years ago, to hear these beings speak? It wasn't surprising that bygone societies had been built around them.

Thor left eventually, with grim laughter, but seemingly on good terms. When you slunk back out into the hallway, Loki remained at the table, writing in his notebook. He seemed tense, but not angry.

“So...” You started. Loki blew out a long breath.

“I desire some kind of sweet confection.” He said. “If you do not already know how, please learn to make some kind of cake or cookie, and then do so.”

“And then...”

“And then eat some with me.”

Dismissal then. So be it. He'd tell you, or he wouldn't, what business was it of yours?

It was time to level up. It was time to learn how to make cookies.

                                                                         ******

You knew that if this were a movie, or TV show, smoke would billow out once you opened that oven, and your cookies would all be burnt. But that's not what this was, and your cookies were actually fine. A little flat and crispy around the edges, but perfectly tasty. Loki seemed to take extra pleasure in their crunchiness, a detail you filed away for later. He was still agitated, but it was like a swift current at the bottom of a calm stream. You found yourself a bit afraid to step in.

“What do you think freedom is?” He asked abruptly. He'd been back into his extra-long-titled philosophy books again. You'd been trying to convince him to move on from Keirkegaard, but the existentialism spoke to him.

He'd had you sit with him next to his huge fireplace, and sing a few times now, and he even translated excerpts from his books for you in order to discuss them with you. He liked your somewhat cynical, layman's view on these lofty subjects, even seemed to find validity in your sometimes frustrated “I don't know, why should it matter?” answers. This time you thought about it for a while.

“I think it doesn't actually exist. It's an unobtainable idea.” You said.

“Care to expand?”

“Well, okay. So what is freedom? That's a really tough question, right? Like, for some people, its 'not being discriminated against because of skin color' or something like that. For others, it as simple as financial stability. But both of those have something in common with what I think is the average definition, which is 'not being beholden to capricious authority figures'. But is that even possible? I mean, say you're a king.

Not literally!” You exclaimed, as Loki opened his mouth. “But as a king, there's supposedly no higher power than you in all the land, right? But...you also have responsibilities. Burdens. You have to rule, and you have to do it well, or you won't be king for long. You still, in some part, owe your time and effort to the people you rule. You aren't free. You can't just do whatever you want, whenever you want. The people won't put up with it. Eventually, they'll rise up an overthrow you, maybe even kill you. It happened a lot.

But if you go with the Divine Right idea, even though you're telling the peasants that they have to do whatever you say because it's God's will, it's still admitting that you answer to a higher power. Therefore, you are not free, because you are under the authority of a deity and supposedly have to abide by their rules and doctrines. If you don't, your Divine right to rule may be revoked and again, if you have ruled poorly, you'll be overthrown and killed.

You can't even reach freedom by removing yourself from the chains of society. Take yourself off to some deserted place with no other people around, and you can do whatever you want, right? Except you still have to eat. You still need shelter. You still have to spend a lot of time dealing with those things. You are still trapped by the laws of nature. Try to defy them, and you will be killed.

Even in death...either there's no afterlife, and you just stop existing at all, and therefore can't engage in concepts such as freedom, or there is an afterlife, but it follows the rules of the god who created it, and you have to follow those rules while you're there. There's no such thing as true freedom. It can't be achieved.”

“How does that make you feel?” Loki asked softly.

You shrugged. “Not as frustrated as I should, I guess. I don't feel strongly about it. What am I supposed to do about it, rebel?”

“Isn't that what your parents did?”

“Yeah, and they're both dead!” You exclaimed. Loki fell quiet.

“I'm sorry.” You said. “It's just that everyone who finds out about them expects me to be like them, but I'm just not. I'm not their opposite, but I'm not...them.”

“What happened to them?” He inquired. “I don't actually know about them, save for what you have alluded to.”

“You have a phone, right? Look up the 'Joyful Liberation Compound'. I'll clean up these cookies.”

You washed the dishes and cleaned up all the flour and crumbs. When you joined him at the table again, he was staring at his phone, expression grim.

“Yeah.” You said.

“You are the only survivor.” He stated.

“Yeah, because I ran away when I turned seventeen. Had to smuggle myself out in the back of a supply truck. They didn't let us back outside once we came in. Only very carefully vetted individuals, high in the pecking order were allowed back into the outside world, and then only to recruit or bring back supplies that we couldn't create at the compound. 'Liberation' was right in the name, but we were very Not Free.”

“Brave little thing.” Loki said. “It must have been very difficult to make that choice.”

“We joined when I was fifteen.” You said. “I was only there for two years. Not like the other kids, who were raised there, or spent most of their lives there. They didn't know anything else. Now they never will.”

“Your government baffles me sometimes.” Loki said. “Billionaire slavers are elevated rather than criminalized, yet they're perfectly prepared to raze an entire compound to the ground? With everyone inside? Even the children?”

“They were an accelerationist cult.” You pointed out. “They thought the end of American civilization was coming, and that they were supposed to help bring it about.”

“And your government is full of dominionists and fascists.” Loki pointed back. “This seems nothing more than one civil deconstructionist cult destroying the competition while it is still small.”

“Yeah, it sucks all around.” You agreed heatedly. “That's what happens when you have one set of laws for a favored class of people, and another for everyone else. The scum rises to the top and then chokes out everyone else...Sorry.”

Loki regarded you sourly. “You speak very freely, brave thing.”

“Is it different where you come from?” You asked.

“Yes, actually. We have an unbroken line of succession that oversees a thriving and prosperous culture, kept that way by firm, yet judicious leaders.”

“You tried to take over a whole planet by force!”

“I intended to fix your crumbling infrastructure and even out your unbelievable inequality issues.” Loki insisted.

“By enslaving us all? Making us all equally subservient to you?”

“There is a difference between bravery and foolishness.” He warned. “I meant to rule as a benevolent god. You do not wish to see me vengeful!”

You snapped your mouth shut. His Alpha scent intensified when he exerted his personality, but it was the power in his voice that shivered through you.

You hated that. You hated it. The scent made you so uncomfortable, dredged up so many tainted memories. And the vocal power of an Old God squelched your spirit. You sat, still and quiet, practically radiating resentment.

After a few moments of extremely uncomfortable silence, Loki sighed.

“It would not have worked.” He admitted. “My intentions were not pure. I would certainly have tried, yes, I would have given my best effort, but there were...other...factors.”

“What other factors?” You asked. Hadn't your real boss, the one that paid you, the Tony Stark one, asked you to find out things about this exact subject?

Also, you were curious. What was the secret? What had brought the great god Loki low?

His mouth opened and then closed. No sound came out. As you watched in growing confusion, his face began to twitch, twisting into a grimace, his eyes filling with frustration. Breath hissed through bared teeth, his fists clenching over the armrests of his wheelchair. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

“Loki? Loki! Stop!” You exclaimed. “Stop, you don't have to! Stop!”

Loki let out a groan of pain, then shoved you away when you grabbed his hand. You fell right on your rear.

“Get out of here!” Loki roared. “Get out of my sight, and do not show your face again today!”

You scrambled to your feet and rushed to your apartment, slamming the door behind you. Your organs felt like water, as you slid down the back of your door, flinching at the sounds of destruction coming from outside.

What was that? What had just happened? Did it hurt him to try to speak of what happened to him? It had seemed like some painful, physical battle. You fumbled for your phone and called your real boss.

[theholycovenantrpg]

In the beginning was RAPHAEL, an ANGEL loyal to the cause of the ANGELS. He is said to be IMMORTAL and uses HE/HIM pronouns. In this New Testament he serves as a MEMBER of the VIRTUES. Blessed be his name.

THE INDELIBLE MARK.

They say that he is intoxicating to be around -- enthralling in the way that he approaches all things, his mere presence instilling in those who are enraptured by it something akin to an almost demented sense of beatific awe. When he was anointed the Virtue of Fortitude, though, it seemed that something more was allotted to him; his healing abilities were amplified to the point where he is able to discern what ails a person, whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally. If he is wrathful, it is said to be amplified ten-fold and those who have borne witness to the unfortunate occurrences often find it too difficult to recount; since that is the case, they seem to miss the curl at the edge of his lips that whispers of something unsettling. However, if he is in a benevolent mood he is said to be able to take the burdens of the pain away -- being bestowed with his presence becomes a reprieve. This innate ability, paired with his gifts for healing, are why he is largely popular with the mortals of the Holy Land. For this brief period of time, at least.

THE HISTORY.

There was something beautiful to be found within suffering -- the way the tip of the nose flushes red, the way that tears clung to lashes like fresh morning dew, the way that the heart seemed to stutter and skip in tandem with the great heaving breaths that were taken when air seemed to forsake their lungs. As Raphael looked on from his lofty view, he couldn’t help but think of the beauty that there was to be found within suffering. Of course, he knew nothing of it; only the hypotheticals, the chemical reactions it evoked within the brain, how some of it was physical, other such variations were emotional and still others were of the mental variety. God had placed His hand upon His son’s shoulder, the two of them watching on in their gilded kingdom -- enraptured by the agony that the mortals placed on themselves. Raphael never thought to question why God, in all His goodness, would allow such things, no, he was far more fascinated by the lengths they would go in order to avoid it -- or inflict it, if they felt so inclined. What a sweet sigh issued forth from him as he thought of the a million and one ways in which he could aid them in the avoidance, and a million more to make them suffer all the more. He wondered if their tears were as decadent as they seemed, if their cheeks were warmed to the touch when slick with tears. Alas, all he could do was look on and wonder.

What excitement charged through his ichor-laden veins once God allowed him to step foot upon the earth -- how eager he was for the cacophony of agony and suffering to ring in his ears, a more beautiful hymn than that which the choir of angels sung. He looked upon the mortal faces, eager to see unfold the great suffering and tragedy that seemed to cling to them closer than their own shoulders; what a disappointment it was to see something far more tedious paint across their faces. The terror at bearing witness to a celestial soul, the beatific awe that would appear on their faces once they realized that from a creature such as he, there was only the salvation of God to follow. It seemed like something of a cruel joke when any notion of suffering was wiped away as soon as he intoned the words of God and placed his hands upon their frail, fleshy frames. Still, though, he held onto the hope that God would demand of him something more stirring than the healings that he was so frequently told to perform. There were those among the heavenly ranks that were harbingers of death, that made for themselves infamy and curried among the mortals terror and fear; they were the cause of the salted tears that fell upon their cheeks, of the moaning, wailing, and grinding of teeth that were so lauded about. What did he offer but farcical acts that were meant to be displays of God’s favor and love? What did he offer but anecdotes of whimsical performances that only served to gild the name of a self-important God?

The centuries began to bleed into one another, an endless torrent of mediocrity and boredom where nothing of import was required of him except to laud the ways of a creator that was far less intriguing than He painted Himself to be. And still, he watched from his lofty place in the gilded kingdom as they murdered one another, as they rent themselves apart in determination to place themselves upon a throne that was far above their reach. It was then that he began to wonder if he might stir his brothers in much the same manner, if they might be fallible enough to do as the mortals as wont to do; if they might tear themselves apart in the hopes of some inane idea of power, righteousness, and glory. They were none the wiser as he placed a few carefully chosen words in their ear, weaving the idea of revolt into their conversations as a snake might weave through the grass -- slickly, subtly. The flames of his brothers’ anger were easy to flame, the embers long ago planted by their Father’s pride and self-important glory they were all forced to bend a knee to. He all but placed the sword in Michael’s hand, all but ripped his Father from the throne himself. What a satisfying thing it was to have God look him in the eyes and know that He had incurred His own ruin. That ruin just so happened to also be called Raphael.

When the world remade itself into something far greater -- far more chaotic, far more vicious -- he could not help but pause to admire his own handiwork; the sun rose and set in the manner that it did because of him, the earth was painted awash in its vibrant away of colors because of him, and the mortals that now fancied themselves as something powerful were only considered gifted because of him and the mechanisms of his enigmatic mind. But he finds that, with the peace that the world sits on the brink of, there is the threat of mundanity lording over him once more. There will still be the tragedy and suffering that he so loves, but it will not be at the scale that it once was. The mortals will no longer be sharpening their knives to claw at the angels, the demons will no longer goad the mortals. There will soon be no bloodshed, no wails of sorrow and cries of agony for him to listen for -- no, there would only be the gentle sigh of a world at rest and the soft laughter of euphoria pouring in through his window. The thought of falling into the mind-numbing harmony that they so long for is a tragedy that he isn’t interested in. It has been quite some time since he has bothered to dip his hands in blood, whether it be celestial or mortal, but he takes no issue in the thought of it. There was something beautiful, after all, about suffering -- and incredibly intoxicating about knowing that he is the one who inflicts it.

THE CONNECTIONS.

MICHAEL & GABRIEL: The Archangels. They were known as the three Archangels in the old world - famed and venerated. A soldier, a messenger, and a healer. They are brothers in every sense of the word: bickering over the smallest of things, needling one another, but loving one another all the same. Though, as of late, Raphael has noted a rift between them, the root of it lies within their differing loyalties -- though Raphael has always made a note to keep his opinions rather close to the chest, instead belaying any need for honesty by offering his considerations of both sides of whatever arguments may occur. Although, in truth, chasm is a more accurate word to describe it than rift. Before, their arguments would end in jest, but now Raphael has observed that each one seems to drive Michael and Gabriel further and further apart. He does not much mind the fact that they seem to be set upon their differing path -- what intrigues him is how the two others might fracture and decimate themselves from within without one another. Perhaps he is curious to see just how volatile their age-old friendship is, what it might take to weave them together and drive them into unforgivable furies. In truth, there is no end to the immeasurable excitement that he thinks this new age might bring. 

ROMILDA ALTIER: Galatea. From her, he is determined to carve the most intricate corruption so that others might behold its beauty. She came to him of her own free will, chin held high, eyes blazing with poorly disguised contempt for him and his celestial nature. But still, she was determined to make something of the Gift that she had been given, was determined to render the powers that were comparable to that of a lioness into something more gentle in nature -- coaxing it into the nature of a lamb. He would indulge her, of course, would let her think that angelic nature was something much more serene in its nature. But beneath the serene waters is something far more terrifying than even could conjure in her nightmares. Slowly -- carefully -- he seeks to see how that light within her might scorch the earth, might raze what creation has wrought. From her, he will bring forth the beauty that stirs within one a primordial fear, from her he will bring forth machinations that the likes of the long-dead God could never have hoped to bear witness to. 

ABADDON: Blight. It is very rare that he leaves himself unguarded -- but it is just so utterly captivating, witnessing utter helplessness. He had seen it once, a particularly wiry little angel had left his flank open and what was Raphael to do with the opportunity but teach him a lesson he might never forget? And so he had done as any seeking to reinforce the strength of another might do and allowed himself to fall into a frenzy that the poor welp might never forget. In doing so, though, he had left himself exposed to the rather underhanded tactics of Abaddon, brutally stealing from him the opportune moment for tutelage. And, as a result, ensured that the other angel would be softened after being aided in such a manner. It seems that every time they encounter one another, a satisfied little smirk besets her face -- how much longer she’ll be able to wear it, he can’t say. Patience is a particularly potent virtue that he has learned to cultivate and refine until it ends up cutting others like a blade. One day soon, he will be able to hold it against her throat like a knife and watch as she bleeds from how deeply he will inflict it. 

SAMAEL: Parasite. The two of them had been created to contrast one another -- one to highlight God’s benevolence, the other to inflict his wrath when the Creator saw fit. They had been irrevocably tied since their very inception, and had been intended to serve as a means of balancing the tenets of the universe. The two were knotted together, tied by a string of fate that Raphael had tantamount to the shackles that had tethered the monsters within Tartarus. He had the pleasure of watching him fall, watching the great Samael who wielded his power about so blatantly and readily that it oozed from him like fumes from a rotten bog, staining all who dared to draw near to his putrid presence. It has been an eon and a half since then, since he has had the pleasure of watching the cursed creature fall, but still the satisfaction he takes in holding the other’s gaze has not abated. He has borne witness to the undoing of Samael once before -- he will allow the demon to crawl ever-higher, just so he might have the singular joy of being there when he is wrenched from his place of power once again. If he is lucky, this time he might set in motion the condemned creature’s fall himself.

Raphael is portrayed by Ricky Whittle and was written by ROSEY. He is currently OPEN.