#the deception of the decimal point

[mondoreb]

End Times Prophecy Headlines: October 17,2023

ALMOST THERE! ISSUE End Times Prophecy Report.com HEADLINES TUESDAY October 17, 12023 And OPINION “And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.” —Matthew 24:4 “The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky ===INTERNATIONAL UKRAINE: Russia-Ukraine war: Fighting intensifying around Avdiivka, officials…

[blondeboyfriend]

𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐙𝐄 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐍𝐈

[ PAIRING ] Zeke Yeager x f!reader [ AUTHOR'S NOTE ] This is my submission for @bastardblvd's Wet Hot Slimeball Summer Collab. My prompt was ☀️lifeguard☀️. Special thanks to the love of my life, @strawberrystepmom, for beta reading this. [ SYNOPSIS ] LOCAL LIFEGUARD LETS CUTE GIRL DROWN SO HE CAN PLAY THE HERO AND GET PUSSY [ WORD COUNT ] 1.8k [ CONTENT ] Modern AU, mostly written from Zeke's POV, no plot; no problem (jk there are problems), manipulation, dubcon, predator/prey vibes, lowkey somnophilia (y/n is barely conscious), oral sex (f receiving), public-ish sex, jerking off.

Zeke didn’t consider himself a bad guy. He was well-mannered, his politeness instilled in him by his late mother, and pretty nice if he put his mind to it. He was a hard worker and the first to jump into the water to save someone. His experience was unmatched, having been stationed at the same beach since he was a teenager, and his knowledge was unparalleled. His boss had even dubbed him the boy wonder…

No, Zeke wasn’t a bad guy…

He just did bad things…

Like letting pretty girls get themselves into trouble so he could rescue them from the big, bad ocean.

But who could blame him? Temptation was lurking around every corner. It was like a siren’s song, leading him astray and drowning him in inebriating waters. He simply couldn’t control himself sometimes. It’s not his fault he was bogged down by his carnal desires.

And it’s certainly not his fault that you came to the beach on a quiet Monday morning. He spotted you from the lifeguard tower, his eyes glued to you. You looked like an angel making your way across the sand, your white billowy cover up trailing behind you, caught in the gentle sea breeze. His cheeks grew warm as you unbuttoned it, revealing a matching white bikini underneath. It looked heavenly against your sun kissed skin.

Zeke knew he should tell you about the three rip currents plaguing the beach, but where was the fun in that? He opened the door to the tower and stepped down, watching you as you waded in the turbulent water. You looked so unaware of the danger surrounding you. All it would take would be one big wave to knock you down and then you’d be swept out to sea.

“Be careful,” he shouted through his megaphone. He needed to at least seem diligent.

You turned, your back facing the ocean, a rookie mistake.

“I will,” you hollered back.

He could barely hear you over the waves licking the shore. Thankfully he didn’t care. He was too caught up in the sneaker wave heading towards you. By the time you noticed it was too late, and the wave knocked you off your feet. You fell forward on your hands and knees, and tried to anchor yourself, but the water kept rushing in, gradually submerging you. As it began to recede the waves pulled you away from the shore and into the untamed ocean.

Zeke smirked. You didn’t seem too phased as you casually treaded water. He assumed you would have panicked and flailed around, wasting your precious energy. He couldn’t help but be a little disappointed. Your inconceivable skills decimated his plan. He exhaled deeply and debated pursuing you in a more socially acceptable manner. At this point it was the only way.

Contemplating such a thing made his mouth fill with saliva. He couldn’t bear the thought of attempting small talk or suggesting you two grab a drink. It was wholly against his nature.

And lucky for him he wouldn’t have to.

Another sneaker wave consumed you, leaving no trace of your existence. Grabbing his rescue board he made his way down the beach and into the water. When he pulled your limp body onto the board, you were sedated and calm. He always loved an easy rescue.

“So stupid,” you murmured.

He looked down at you, his eyes trained on your exposed breast. The chilled ocean water left your nipple erect. It practically demanded his attention.

“You’re fine,” he cooed. “The water’s deceptive today. Don’t beat yourself up.”

His tone was saccharine, terminal in its sweetness. He was amazed he was able to mask his hunger. Seeing you so defenseless made his cock throb. You weakly smiled and muttered a muted “thank you” before drifting away as Zeke took you back to shore.

“Let me take a look at you in the tower. I want to make sure you’re okay,” he said, lifting you up.

He didn’t give you a chance to protest, not that you would’ve been able to. You were hardly in a position to exercise your agency. All you could do was gaze up at him sleepily, worn out from your battle against the waves.

The inside of the lifeguard tower was cramped. Sand littered the floor. The hot air was thick with the smell of sunscreen and salt water. He sat you down in the lone chair and stared down at your exhausted body. He lifted your chin. Your dazed look made his heart race. He got down on his knees and extended one of your bent legs. His weathered hands were rough against the tender flesh of your thighs.

“Does anything hurt?” he asked even though he honestly didn’t care.

You shook your head.

“I’m going to check you for injuries anyway. Better to be safe than sorry,” he recited.

He caressed your limbs, taking in every inch of you. His hands wandered your body, his eyes consuming it. It was hard to believe such a stupendously lifeless angel was gracing his presence.

“How do you feel?”

“Like… I need to… sit down for… a while,” you mumbled.

Your eyelids were so heavy; you could barely keep them open. But overall you seemed in good enough shape. Zeke couldn’t have had better luck.

“I think I can manage that,” he said warmly as his cock continued to throb. “I need to keep an eye on you for a bit anyway.”

“No. Go and…. do—do your job. I’ll be okay here by”—you yawned—”myself.”

Zeke placed his hands on your hips, his grip tight and commanding.

“I’d be a pretty shitty lifeguard if I left you in here on your own,” he said. 

His grey eyes were dark with ache. You let out a weak laugh and wiped away the sand that had dusted your cheek. You mumbled an apology. He shushed you and hooked his fingers under your bikini bottoms. You exhaled sharply and he paused.

“What?” he asked playfully. “C’mon.”

Your face was adorned with a pathetic, little frown. It hardly deterred him, but he decided to play nice. He cupped your face with a calloused hand. His cock was chafing against his board shorts.

“Don’t you want to properly thank me for my efforts?” he asked, running his finger along your bottom lip.

You hesitated.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” he purred, sounding more inelegant than he would’ve preferred. He slipped two of his fingers into your mouth. “If anything I’m doing you a favor on top of saving your life.”

Your mouth was soft and warm. He wanted to fuck it.

“You deserve some comfort after everything you’ve been through,” he said, pressing down on your tongue.  His tone was slightly more urgent, more insistent. “Don’t deprive yourself.”

You did nothing in protest, entrusting him with your life once more. Seeing you surrender yourself did wonders for his ego and made his balls feel tight. Your steadfast silence was heavenly. He always preferred the quiet type.

He took his fingers out of your mouth, staring at your lips. He thought about kissing you, but that was too intimate. You were prey, nothing built to last. His eyes trailed down your body, lingering on your breasts. He untied your bikini top and watched as it fell unceremoniously to the floor.

He took your erect nipple between his lips and sucked. He wondered if you could feel his beard against your skin, and if you noticed how he kept his well-oiled and trim. You hummed as he swirled his tongue around your nipple. 

You sighed heavily and made a feeble attempt at curling your toes. It was so cute. He couldn’t help but whimper a little.

Your skin was salty, still dappled with water. The ocean’s cruel touch left your skin clammy. But it did little to deter him. He didn’t care if you were warm, he just cared if you had a heartbeat or not.

He pulled away from your breast and peeled off the rest of your bikini. He positioned himself between your thighs and buried his face in your cunt, his nose brushing up against your clit. Your scent was ambrosial and dizzying. He spread apart your folds with his tongue, savoring the taste of your arousal.

Zeke looked up at you, meeting your sleepy gaze. He swept his tongue along your cunt before slipping the tip inside. A small whimper fell from your lips. He did it again, relishing the sound of your voice.

“Yes…” you mumbled as he lapped at your folds.

He felt like his cock was going to burst. He pulled his cock out of his board shorts and palmed its aching tip. It was dewy with precum. He gripped the length of it and stroked. Euphoria enveloped him.

He sucked on your clit as your soft moans filled the lifeguard tower. He felt insatiable and couldn’t stand the thought of this moment ending. In a perfect world you would be his little pet, one he could consume at any time. The sweet taste of your arousal would always be within reach.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his gruff voice muffled by your cunt.

More precum dribbled from his tip and he began to rut against his fist. He showed neither himself nor you any mercy. He was relentless as he feasted on your cunt. You writhed in your seat, your body falling victim to the debauchery Zeke unleashed.

He made eye contact with you, his lustful gaze unwavering.

“Are you going to be a good girl and come all over my tongue?” he asked as he furiously jerked himself off.

“Uh-huh,” you said, placing your hand on the back of his head.

Your touch sent him over the edge. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together, but he refused to come before you. He grabbed onto your hips and rolled his tongue against your clit, trying to ignore his swollen cock. He continued to hold your gaze.

“Oh my god,” you murmured, pushing his head deeper into your cunt.

Zeke struggled to ignore how sweet you sounded as your orgasm washed over you. The relief he felt once you finally stopped was immense. He stood up and tried in vain to wipe away some of your arousal that had soaked his beard.

His cock was heavy in his hand as he pulled on its length. He was so close, he could taste it. He felt like he was going to burst at any second. He watched as you shut your eyes and seemed to doze off. He couldn’t help but be a little heartbroken. You were supposed to be marveling at him and his beautiful cock. He snapped his fingers by your ear while he fucked his fist. 

“Look at me,” he growled.

Your eyes fluttered open and stared at him. His entire body was flooded with warmth as long, thick ropes of cum splattered against you. He couldn’t control his hearty moans as he watched it drip down your skin. You looked so confused, so lost, and it was exactly what he wanted.

[mcchipisfried]

I'm watching Hannibal for the first time and I'm not gonna lie I had my doubts. (Currently on Seaon 2 Episode 11)

(ALSO SPOLIERS BELOW though I think I'm the last person on tumblr who HASN'T seen Hannibal)

My forefathers forgive me, I had doubts. So so many doubts. I wanted to go into this show decimating everyone's reasoning that Hannibal Lecter and Will Graham would work as a couple (romantic or otherwise). I wanted to be fed a story about murder, deception, manipulation, betrayal, and maybe even a little but of cannibalism. And don't get me wrong I have gotten this, but I've also been fed a romantic comedy.

I went into this show not wanting to find reasons to want these two together, I wanted to think "Oh the people of tumblr probably pieced a bunch of subtext together and I probably will as well but it'll hardly be anything that I could write about to my friends who haven't seen the show"

I was so fucking wrong.

Really it should have been the moment where Alana and Hannibal were having a ✨️moment✨️ while Will and Margot were also having a ✨️moment✨️ so the way the whole scene played was very. Well. Not what you would expect from a guy that should have every reason to shoot Hannibal on sight. The fucking framing and cinematography got me to send a 3 minute long vm at 2 am to my friend who really doesn't care about Hannibal.

Or maybe it should have been every single time tweddle dee and tweddle dum are even remotely alone together and decide to start eye fucking each other while also making death threats.

But no what got me was when Alana described what was done to Freddie Lounds' body the second time around as a demonstration of a courtship (best way I can phrase it without just explaining the plot that led us here)

Really, its such a small moment.

But the way the two idiots are standing there looking at each other and Alana shouldn't have been as funny as it was nor should it have instantly reminded me of an early 2000's movie where the couple is secretly dating because they just can't help it and some third party, maybe even one the main couples friends discovers them while trying to NOT make it a Big Deal™ because they are in public except y'know, this is happening over the body that Person A burned to a crisp and sent rolling in a wheelchair while Person B got said body after the funeral and made it into an effigy.

Anyways TLDR: I thought the Hannibal x Will stuff was all very insignificant subtext but actually it was just text and it was screaming. I would also like to thank my film, cinematography, scriptwriting, lighting, and storytelling college classes because as it turns out you did do something for me. You made me realize that whatever is happening between Hannibal and Will is not platonic and I will be consulting AO3 to further expand my understanding of these characters as soon as I finish watching the show.

Also yes I know at some point someone says Hannibal is in love with Will. But now I'm starting to believe that.

[elrondapologist]

RoP Episode 7 spoilers

Messy thoughts about what the-, and musing on theories

SO THAT WAS THE KISS. I need to admit I was disgusted more than a little looking at it xD. But Galadriel's face in the end kind of made up for that. But fr, Elrond. You had no other idea to give her lockpick unaware than to _kiss_ your future mother in law??? (Who is also apparently married, just with no husband in sight???) Can't deny it worked, but...

And... Did Arondir just... died? Like that? I was so hyped after the last scene that I kind of brushed aside in my mind and now I am like hum??? Did he? He can't just be forgotten like that, I love him :C. But many good scenes this episode. I highly enjoyed the siege, as it was both kind of nice to look at - you know, as far as killing everything in sight can be nice to look at - but also had this weight to it, the danger. I liked that we can see Elrond get more and more tired as the fight progresses. I expected problems with dwarves, and yeah, I got it... Although I am not sure how it happened that as Narvi said one dwarf, even with an axe and being a king, decimated an army?????? What? But like honestly generally what is happening there with the dwarves and Disa xD I sincerely hope no one touches her tho or I am going to riot! I liked the progression of Celebrimbor's plot. I was afraid that realising Sauron's deception will be end of his agency, that they will make him passive, but I love that he has his last stand. I soooooooooo winced at the whole finger situation cause what the actual-. I was at the same time like yes (fight him!) and no (aua). I also loved and despaired at the scene with Galadriel - it was the best possible option, Celebrimbor was giving all he had, and he was going into torture and anguish knowingly, willingly and head held high despite the fear. I didn't even know I needed Celebrimbor like that until I saw him. And the thing with Mirdania? I think her death, for that is kinda undeniable I am afraid, proved without a doubt she was not Celebrian - which is kind of a pity, I must admit. There was something there that could develop nicely, as well as it is the case with Adar = Maglor, which I also think is highly unlikely now, as Elrond did not acknowledge the possible connection in any way. But if I am mistaken, please let me now! Also, I applaud Elrond for not giving the ring for Galadriel's life. Despite the whole weird kissing scene xDDD. I liked to see him take his commander role seriously and as an orc said - holding his own better than expected (or sth according the lines xD). It is a win for nerds, I think. Lord Elrond "according to the lore" Peredhel. Leading a siege. Feel old yet? Anyway, the dwarves will come (when Durin finally usurps the throne, I am afraid) and Celebrimbor and Elrond will be totally fine because I am delusional :).

P.S Also, Gil Galad in an armour. In an armour. P.P.S There this whole slow motion scene in one place that has in a foreground just an elf running away from an orc. Slay, bro. I laughed, tho, not gonna lie. P.P.P.S The last stand of Gil Galad and Elrond's army was suprisingly... Not to use the word... There were really like ten elves left? From the whole army? I know they said orcs unnumbered them, but that took me by surprise. P.P.P.P.S I was happy that Gil Galad's armour was not very visibly that much different from the rest of the elves - you know, like some shows have this whole ass target point basically by giving the commanders extremely weird and visible armours. Shoot here. I like Gil Galad here, even if Elrond kind of outshined him xD.

[acacia-may]

Enough [A Frank Denouement and Kit Snicket Friendship Ficlet]

A ficlet centric on one of my favorite ASOUE underrated friendships: Frank Denouement and Kit Snicket for Woevember 2023 hosted by @asouefanworkevent Day 4: Hotel Denouement. Dewey x Kit is also mentioned. Thank you for reading!

(Warnings: Sparring. Some mild spoilers)

“Hey. Hey, not the face,” Frank protested as he dodged one of Kit’s punches. Another soon followed. “If you give me a black eye again, I won’t be able to pretend I’m Ernest.” 

“That was an accident,” she insisted as he tried and failed to catch her in a hold. “And why do you do that again?” 

Her movements were so quick and agile, he could barely keep up with them—not to mention frustratingly unpredictable even after how many times they had sparred together. He supposed he had an excuse. Since he had been put on “hotel duty,” his sparring skills were severely lacking especially compared to Kit who spent most of her time in the field, but still he had thought that with practice he would’ve improved at least somewhat. He huffed, struggling to catch his breath as he quickly weaved in and out of her attacks. “Listen, when you have a boring desk job like me, you have to find ways to keep life interesting.”

“It just confuses everyone,” she argued as she turned, leaving her right side open. When he raised his arm, however, she effortlessly swerved away from his hand, completely unphased and he was back on the defensive. “If your point was to be deceptive, I could understand, but you just want to mess with everyone—why?” 

“What do you care?” he huffed as he managed to get a kick in causing her to stumble. He gripped her arms holding her in place. “You can tell us apart.” She could, of course, frustratingly enough so he never got to have any fun with tricking her that he was either of his brothers. “So I don’t know why it would matter to—Ow!” 

Frank winced as Kit elbowed him, and within moments she had him pinned to the ground. Pathetic, he thought with a slight shake of his head as he struggled to wriggle free. She was kind enough to practice with him whenever she was around which was getting more and more frequent. That gave him an idea. 

“Before you punch me, picture me as someone you love—shouldn’t be too hard,” he teased with a wink and a grin. Kit lowered her hand and loosened her hold on him. The glare she gave him as she got up from the ground made Frank shiver.  

“Listen, I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just teasing…” he insisted, but Kit huffed, leaning against the wall with her back to him. 

Even though Frank was sure she probably didn’t want him to, he joined her. The roof of the hotel was their favourite sparring place, and probably Ernest’s as well as he insisted it was the least disruptive to the guests. It was one of Frank’s favourite places in general since it had the most beautiful view of the city—especially at night when all of the buildings were illuminated by dim lights and the night sky was filled with stars.

After a long, heavy silence, Kit half-asked, half-stated, “So you know…?”  

Frank’s brow furrowed. “About you and my brother? Yeah.” 

“I had thought that since his entire existence is a secret, he’d be better at keeping one,” she teased with a twitch of a smile in the corners of her mouth. 

“When he’s this happy? Absolutely not,” chuckled Frank. “You are all he ever talks about besides books and the Dewey Decimal System. I guess I just figured that since you were hanging around here a lot more that you two were in some kind of relationship now…” Frank stopped. “Are you in some kind of relationship?”  

Kit frowned. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“Kit, my brother adores you. He would do anything for you—even die for you or follow you into hell if you asked. That level of devotion knows no bounds. I have no doubt that you are the person my brother loves the most in the world, and he is the person I love the most so I…”

“You’re worried about him,” she finished with a sigh. “And you should be.” 

“I wouldn’t say…” 

“You know about me and Olaf…?” she interrupted again, and Frank tilted his head. 

“Well, yeah. Everybody knows about that.” 

“Then you know I’m no good for your brother and that he deserves someone so much better.” 

“Maybe that’s true,” Frank conceded. “But he doesn’t want anyone else.” Frank sighed. “Look, we’ve all done things that we’re not proud of—I know I have so I’m in no position to judge you or anybody else. The way I see it, there are very few genuinely good people in this world, but Dewey is one of them and he deserves to be happy. And Kit..." he paused—meeting her eyes. "You have made my brother happier than I have ever seen him and as far as I’m concerned that makes you good enough.” 

[themurphyzone]

BatB AU Missing Scene: No Matter How Your Heart is Grieving

AN: This oneshot is what I consider to be a missing scene between Ch 12: A Bedtime Story and Ch 13: Mystery in the Castle of ‘Til the Last Petal Falls. 

Looking back on the story, I’ve noticed that for all the times I mention the mice cuddling in the library at night during the curse, it’s never the specific focus of a chapter. Plus I don’t think I wrote enough of Beast!Brain or Pinky receiving cuddles from him which is a grievous error in judgment and I must correct that immediately. Pinky crying over his deceased mom and stillborn sibling in Ch 12 seemed like the perfect place to insert monster cuddles. 

Also I felt like emotionally torturing Beast!Brain again.

AO3 Link

Pinky is crying. 

The Beast’s stomach clenches into an uncomfortable knot, his large paw clammy as he folds his clawed fingers around Pinky’s small hand. It’s not much, but it has to be enough. 

Please, let it be enough…

Pinky’s blue eyes are watery when they should be bright, his ears fallen when they should be perked. Sobs wrack his body, deceptively quiet for the trembles that run from ears to tailtip. 

The Beast’s method of comfort is inadequate. He knows that, deep inside whatever remains of his shriveled soul. 

This silence is cruel. He needs to say something. 

He thinks of only two words, an expression he’s heard in a life he will never have again. He almost utters them, but the words catch in his throat. 

My condolences sounds so empty, so devoid of any real meaning. 

It’s a phrase that belongs to the upper castes of society. They say it to relatives of the deceased as a courtesy, but they are never sincere. 

Always cold, always emotionless. 

He remembers an admiral’s funeral he’d attended so long ago, in a life he would never have again. The admiral had fallen in battle at sea, his entire fleet decimated by British warships. 

His body sank with the ship, forever lost in the depths of the Atlantic, and the French flag had been draped over an empty casket. 

The Beast’s parents had been furious with the admiral’s failure, and if it hadn’t been a state funeral they were required to attend to keep up appearances, they wouldn’t have bothered at all. He and Snowball had been made to attend as well, and the lectures on proper behavior in the week leading up to the funeral were numerous. 

More so for him than Snowball.

My condolences, his father had said to the admiral’s remaining family, though the words were forced through gritted teeth. He and the other military leaders were more concerned about finding a replacement for the deceased before Britain took advantage of their victory. 

The funeral was a quiet, solemn affair. The Beast recalled fidgeting in his seat, uncomfortable with the silence and blank faces of the nobility. He’d been scolded for that. 

But he thought he was doing well, not making a scene and silently learning all he could about military strategies on the ocean.  

Then the admiral’s son came to deliver the eulogy. 

He was a captain of the Royal Navy, as his father had once been before his promotion. There were medals pinned to his dress uniform. A ceremonial sword was strapped to his hip. He was tall and well-built, and he’d likely seen countless battles throughout his career. 

And when the captain stood in front of the empty, flag-draped casket, he broke down and wept like a child. The eulogy was left unspoken. 

Papa! Papa! he cried, yet nobody in the stoic, silent audience was moved. 

But the captain’s tears had affected his child self to the point where he had to be removed from the proceedings and relocated to a dark sitting room away from everybody, where he couldn’t embarrass the royal family with his emotional outburst. Only Snowball took pity on him and held his hand, but he quickly let go before the king and queen noticed. 

He didn’t understand why a stranger’s grief affected him so much. 

But he knew he was weak for crying. He had to huddle in the corner, tiny and alone, scolding himself to calm down so he could be presentable again. And Snowball’s attempt at comfort only confused him more. 

Why bother taking his hand if he wasn’t going to stay? 

Then the captain’s voice changed into a quiet sob, one that haunted the Beast from Pinky’s first night in the castle. 

Pinky was alone, crying in a prison of stone and shadows. By his own volition, he’d given up his freedom. His shoulders trembled, his eyes uncertain, but he stood his ground and asked to become a prisoner in his father’s place.  

As soon as the deal was struck, the Beast had thrown the old mouse out of his castle. He had believed that if this father truly cared for his son, then he’d try to put up a fight. That he would never allow a monster to imprison his son for the rest of his life. That he would scold his son for being a coward and caving into pressure instead of trying to escape. 

You didn’t let me say goodbye! Now I’ll never see him…I-I’ll never see him again. 

He saw himself within Pinky, crying for a comfort that would never come. But he shoved down the guilt, thinking only of the opportunity to break the curse and reclaim his throne. His parents would never welcome him back with open arms if they saw what he’d been reduced to. 

For all his cruelty and failings, he deserved to die in the cold. 

Then Pinky saved him, though he wasn’t worth the effort. Anyone with sense would’ve left him where he fell. 

But Pinky didn’t stop there. He healed the Beast’s injuries, worried over him, talked to him like it was the most natural thing in the world. The Beast had become fond of their conversations, even if the topics were strange and not something most would consider speaking about. 

Pinky didn’t treat him like a failure, even when he couldn’t accomplish the most basic of tasks because of his body. When the Beast spilled oatmeal all over himself because he couldn’t use a spoon in an embarrassing display, Pinky chose to ignore normal etiquette and sip directly from the bowl to put him at ease. And in a rather silly mishap, Pinky spilt oatmeal everywhere too. 

He’d turned the faux pas into something they could both laugh at. 

And the Beast didn’t feel so alone anymore. 

Pinky’s presence opened his entire world. Sometimes, he wondered if this is what happiness felt like. If this is what companionship was like. 

They’d always been foreign concepts to him. He used to think they were forever out of reach. But Pinky proved him otherwise. 

He never thought he’d be so grateful to be wrong. 

The castle no longer felt dark and gloomy with Pinky around. His smile and laughter chased away every shadow, and while his boundless energy sometimes confused the Beast, it was always interesting to hear about his discoveries. 

And yet, sometimes Pinky’s smile would become too bright, his laugh slightly too loud. He’d fly from one topic to the next too quickly for anyone to keep up with his rambling. When he was finished playing with Wakko, Dot, or Mindy, he’d wave goodbye for seconds longer than he needed to. 

Then he’d turn to the Beast and ask if he had any plans for the afternoon, his strange behavior disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

It didn’t happen every time he played with the younger servants. Just on occasion. 

The Beast never asked. Maybe the pattern didn’t exist. Maybe it was just one of Pinky’s many quirks. 

Maybe he doesn’t want to hear the answer at all. 

The Beast wants to believe that Pinky likes the castle enough to stay. With a little more time, Pinky may finally consider the castle his permanent home. 

He thinks of the fallen petals under the bell jar. The rose is dying. Time is not on his side. 

Pinky is the only one who can end this awful curse. He’s the only one who can lo-

No, he discards that thought quickly. I can’t ask him to make that sacrifice. He’s already given up too much, for so little reward. 

More tears fall from Pinky’s eyes. The Beast has to hold Pinky’s shoulder to keep him upright. It’s frightening how much trust Pinky is placing upon the Beast to hold him up. 

Pinky talks about his family. He’s hiccupping throughout his tearful ramble, his words shaky and sorrowful. The Beast listens to his apologies, and he doesn’t know how to tell Pinky that none are needed. 

He senses that he’s the only one outside of Pinky’s remaining family who knows that Pinky’s mother died in childbirth with neither mother nor infant surviving, rather than a vague accident that is never elaborated upon.    

Pinky has entrusted him with that secret. It’s saddening to know that someone as cheerful and open as Pinky has experienced grief and loss, and how there are some things even he’s unwilling to share. 

He seems to feel guilty for not saying anything earlier.

But it explains so much about Pinky. 

His attachment to his mother’s cloak. Worrying about the Beast’s injuries. Volunteering to watch over the youngest servants so others could work in peace. 

His willingness to sacrifice his freedom for the only living parent he had. 

And through it all, Pinky doesn’t complain. He sacrifices his own needs to help others without a second thought. And if questioned, he’ll only stand his ground and insist upon giving something of himself anyway.

But it comes at a great personal cost to Pinky. 

He masks the pain with a smile and distraction. He asks about someone else’s well-being. But he won’t ever focus on himself. 

The Beast has pondered telling Pinky the truth about the curse and his former identity. There were many reasons why he hesitated to broach that discussion. 

Sometimes, he feels ashamed about how far he’d fallen from his former status. Other times, he wants to keep the remnants of his royal pride and dignity, and Pinky would never realize he was entirely to blame for the curse. If Pinky knew who he truly was, then he’d never want anything to do with him again. Their friendship would be over. 

But recently, the Beast came to fear that Pinky would try everything in his power to break the curse. That he could try to sacrifice his heart, his soul, or his life in a heartbeat if it meant his friends could be free.  

He can’t ask Pinky to give up more of himself. Not when he’s done so much for everyone already. 

It’s too cruel. 

Then Pinky whispers his name, or the self-explanatory nickname the Beast asks him to use in place of his real name. It’s too shameful to use while his intelligence is slowly dwindling away. 

He briefly wonders if Pinky would call him by his real name if he asks. If it came from him, well, maybe he wouldn’t mind so much. 

“You read that ballroom scene so beautifully. I imagined myself to be there. I had a pretty gown, and I was dancing on clouds, and there was this lovely stranger too! But…I know I won’t ever get to see one for myself. They were always so grand in the bedtime stories Mama read to me! She even showed me how to dance like I was at one.” 

The Beast glances at the cover of Cinderella. He’s surprised Pinky is so complimentary to his reading voice. His literacy isn’t anywhere close to what it used to be. He had to improvise some portions of the tale instead of reading directly off the page, but it seems Pinky barely noticed. 

The page where Cinderella danced with her Prince Charming had been the most difficult part to read of all. He wants to blame the publisher for placing the black text over a navy background, which made the words nearly invisible, but that’s not the whole truth.

Rather, it was the way Pinky leaned against him as the Beast read, the dreamy expression on his face, the soft hums and swaying of his body that made it difficult to focus on the story. 

Imagining himself as Cinderella and dancing with his very own Prince Charming. 

The Beast’s claws sink into the rug.

He tries to convince himself it’s just a literary archetype for a royal love interest. 

But he can’t. 

Of course Pinky would want to dance with that sort of character. Tall, handsome, perfect, the very representation of a better life, and…

…Pinky is wiping his eyes.

It isn’t only a romantic fantasy for a dreamer like Pinky. 

Just like King Arthur and Robin Hood were integral characters for his own childhood, Cinderella is Pinky’s. 

It was a reminder of simpler times that were a distant memory now. No matter how much they missed it, they could never return to their former lives. 

The Beast can’t return to his childhood residence as he is now, nor can Pinky dance with his mother anymore. His family will never be whole again. 

“Pinky…” the Beast whispers. 

Pinky looks at him, sky-blue eyes tinged red around the edges. 

The Beast’s throat closes. He can’t think of any words that would soothe Pinky’s pain. 

But he knows that he must take action. He can’t allow Pinky to bear his pain alone. 

The Beast pulls Pinky forward, and he pushes down the discomfort of Pinky clumsily crashing into his chest. Pinky inhales sharply, his breath tickling a small patch of exposed fur on the Beast’s collar. 

It’s awkward for both of them. One of Pinky’s hands presses uncomfortably against the Beast’s ribcage, while the other is resting on his thigh. He feels the light pressure through the fabric of his pants, and he tries his best to ignore the shivers traveling up his spine. 

Perhaps he made a fatal error in judgment by initiating this embrace. He has very little experience with comforting others. Once or twice, when the Beast was a very young prince, he might’ve made some silly faces at Snowball to cheer him up when he was overwhelmed with his studies, but Snowball quickly outgrew the need for it. 

The servants are more inclined to seek out each other for support when they have difficulties with their cursed bodies, and the Beast knows there’s no comfort he can provide them.

But he can’t shy away now, even if his nerves are screaming at him. Pinky needs this more than anything else. 

Pinky needs…me. 

The Beast wonders if he finally has a purpose in a world that has cast him out. This is a task meant for him alone, and it’s more important than any royal decree. 

He has to see this through to the end. He can’t stop until he sees a silly, bucktoothed smile grace Pinky’s features once again. 

I can never accomplish what I set out to do…but I need to be successful now. Just this once. 

The Beast shifts his body until he and Pinky are in a more natural position. Pinky’s hands rest against the Beast’s collarbone. He lifts his head, trying to look at the Beast’s face, but the Beast carefully presses him back down. 

Pinky doesn’t need to see his own inner turmoil right now. Pinky will ask if he notices, and the Beast doesn’t want him to focus on that. 

Pinky’s head settles against the Beast’s chest, and he gives a little sigh. 

The Beast takes it as a sign that he could possibly be doing something right for once. 

Pinky is always the one who embraces him, and never the other way around. Pinky is exuberant with physical touch, giving hugs freely and with little warning. He doesn’t think about it, and the only requirement seems to be the recipient’s existence.

The Beast does not reciprocate. He tried, once, but a voice in his head screamed at the impropriety of it all and he broke off the attempt. He remembers the confusion in Pinky’s eyes when he pulled away, his monstrous paw hanging in the air. 

Mice and monsters, peasants and princes…none of them should ever mix. 

Unnatural. Shameful, his parents’ voices say in his head. 

As a prince, there were boundaries to maintain at all times. One must act as if they’re in the public eye, even if they’re alone. Any royal foolish enough to let their guard down would have their weakness exploited and reputation damaged forever. 

But as a beast, there are no royal eyes on him. To the outside world, he does not exist. And while it frustrates him that he cannot govern as he was meant to do, in a strange way, there’s a component of freedom within his stone prison. 

Nobody can judge his interactions with Pinky, nor can they interfere. 

Yet there’s always a voice in his mind, whispering that even a kind mouse like Pinky wouldn’t want the touch of someone like him. Even if Pinky willingly takes his hand, smiles at him, and leans against him while he sleeps, eventually his tolerance will run thin before disappearing altogether. 

That voice has kept the Beast safe for all this time. If he listens, he cannot be hurt. 

But he must ignore it now. That same protection does not extend to Pinky, who trusts him with the truth about his family. 

The Beast cannot remain idle and allow Pinky to mourn his lost family alone. This is the time for action. 

He supports Pinky’s body in the crook of his arm, his hand resting on the mouse’s upper back. Pinky’s drooping ears flop as he burrows deeper into the Beast’s fur.  

The Beast inhales sharply, and it takes all his willpower to ignore the strange sensations traveling through his body. The silk fabric of Pinky’s dress mercifully doesn’t tear under his claws. He holds his breath briefly before letting it out in a slow, controlled exhale. 

Pinky’s body trembles, but he lets out a ragged, shaky exhale of his own. It’s immediately followed by a choked gasp. He isn’t getting enough air between his sobs. 

The Beast takes another slow breath, holds, and releases it on the count of three. Then he waits, and tries not to show his relief when Pinky finally follows his breathing pattern. 

So he repeats the process, and on the fifth attempt, they inhale and exhale at the same time. 

Tears still form beneath Pinky’s closed eyes and run down his face, but at a much slower rate than before. His hands release the Beast’s shirt, and his body relaxes. 

Encouraged by this progress, the Beast focuses on matching the pace of their breathing. Pinky’s ear is positioned directly over the Beast’s heart, and the Beast feels a nervous flutter in his stomach. He can only hope that Pinky won’t question why his heart is trying to claw its way out of his ribcage. 

He watches the embers flicker in the fireplace as he breathes. The flames haven’t been maintained since they settled in the library several hours ago, and they’re slowly weakening. The light and warmth that the fireplace provides is limited, and will only last one more hour at its current rate. 

But what little light remains is enough to illuminate Pinky’s pure white fur and the damp, tearstained streaks that run from his eyes to his chin. 

Those tears shouldn’t be there. The world must truly be a dark, cruel place if it punishes a kindred spirit like Pinky for no reason at all. 

His finger hovers over Pinky’s face, but as much as he wants to dry those tears, the sight of his rugged claw prevents him from doing so. Pinky might be comfortable with their current position, but touching his face…that required a level of intimacy the Beast would never reach. 

He lowers his hand. 

Pinky’s head slumps against the Beast’s chest. His crying has finally ceased, his chest rising and falling at an even rate. His shoulders are relaxed, and it seems the emotional toll of this long evening has finally lulled him to sleep. 

“Rest now, Pinky,” the Beast says quietly. 

Pinky’s ear flutters, then his body goes still. He has so much energy when he’s awake. It’s strange, but not in a bad way. 

He doesn’t know how Pinky will act when he awakens tomorrow. He could be charmingly annoying and excitable and ready to discover the new things the castle has in store for him, or he could be quiet with a faraway look in his eyes, his grief for the deceased members of his family still haunting him.

The Beast will comfort him if the sorrow persists. But it’s exhausting to be powerless against a force that he cannot adequately protect Pinky from. Pinky’s mother and stillborn sibling are long gone from this world, and he cannot give them back to his friend. 

But if there’s any way to bring back Pinky’s smile, then he will take it.

Outside the tall window, a dark cloud drifts away from the moon. A silvery, ethereal beam of light trickles in and falls upon the book of Cinderella. On the cover, Cinderella’s elegant ballgown shines with starlight. 

The Beast stares at the book, and a spark of inspiration comes to the forefront of his mind.  

It’s a fantastical and foolish idea.

It’s a hopeful yet harrowing thought. 

The book lays in front of the smoldering fireplace. Tiny sparks dance along the ashes of firewood. Though it doesn’t provide much warmth, the beginning of spring isn’t harsh this year. 

Because of Pinky, it’s bright and pleasant and sunny, rather than a reminder of the changing seasons and passage of time. 

He lays Pinky on the soft rug, careful not to jostle him. Pinky is limp in his arms. He wears his heart on his sleeve. The Beast never expected to earn Pinky’s trust so easily, even though he contributed to his grief. 

Pinky sleeps on, unaware of the guilt the Beast feels as he crouches over him. The only sound he makes is a barely audible squeak, as if calling for someone to come stay with him, and the Beast touches Pinky’s shoulder without thinking. Pinky quiets down immediately.    

“I’m not going far,” the Beast whispers. He lays his cloak over Pinky’s vulnerable form so he doesn’t wake up and ask questions. 

This idea is vague with little detail, and there’s a good chance that it’s not viable at all. Pinky may not react well, and the Beast isn’t sure if he’ll view this act as disrespectful to the memory of his mother.

There are so many ways this can go wrong, but on the slim chance that everything goes right…

Maybe Pinky can have a reason to smile again. 

He moves away from Pinky and approaches the tale of Cinderella with trepidation. He needs to check the most crucial element of the story. 

This idea must be molded to perfection. No detail can be overlooked. 

He turns the pages carefully until he reaches an illustration of Cinderella arriving at the ball in her pumpkin carriage, dressed in her silver gown and glass slippers.  

The carriage was unnecessary. There was already a ballroom within the castle that hadn’t seen use since his ancestors lived here. The Beast had no need for it. Curse or not, he’d never been one for social gatherings. 

So the ballroom remained unused. Only maids venture inside to clean every once in a while. 

But this time, the venue will require a thorough cleaning. Every furnishing and tile polished until they gleam, every cobweb and dust particle swept away. 

A ball also requires formal clothing. But while Marita and her team of seamstresses can provide the outfit, that would mean telling them about his request for Pinky. 

He can’t reveal his real motivation to anyone. It’s embarrassing to admit out loud. 

He’ll just say it’s another plan to end the curse. He’s tried plenty of things that never worked. It’s believable enough. 

There also needs to be food. Special dishes, not just everyday bread and cheese. He’ll have to consult Flavio later. Surely he must know what to serve at these kinds of events. 

Then he turns the page, and his heart plummets. 

Prince Charming asks Cinderella for a dance. He’s handsome, eloquent, and the perfect figure for any romantic dream come true. 

The Beast can’t measure up to those lofty expectations. Sometimes he still needs to lean against furniture and railings to walk upright. He’ll only make a bigger fool of himself if he tries to dance. 

And if the planning stages are brought to completion, there’s the issue of inviting Pinky to this supposed ball. 

He can’t become the Prince Charming to Pinky’s Cinderella. He’s the antithesis of everything that archetype stands for. There is only one role for him in a fairy tale. He is simply the beast slain by the hero, and nothing more. That’s all he will ever be. 

This plan…it was doomed for failure from its conception. 

He closes his eyes and shuts the book. Then he pushes it away, unable to look at Cinderella and Prince Charming dancing across a star-filled sky. 

Now he understands why he was restricted from reading books that weren’t part of his curriculum. 

Cinderella only filled his head with nonsense. This text is nothing but fantasies that will never come true. 

But as he stares into the night sky, he imagines himself and Pinky in place of the characters. They’re intertwined, dancing among the stars to a melody only they can hear. Pinky’s dress shimmers with every graceful step he takes, his sky-blue eyes shining with happiness while the Beast guides his movement. 

Pinky’s smile is brighter than the sun. 

The Beast blinks, and the vision is gone. 

The Beast lays on the rug and tries to sleep, feeling nothing except a deep sense of longing. He feels pressure building within him, a heaviness upon his heart. The moon is once again obscured by clouds, its silver light fading into darkness. 

But he isn’t alone. 

A thin halo of the remaining moonlight surrounds Pinky’s fur as he crawls over to the Beast, the cloak trailing behind him. Pinky yawns, his eyes still closed, and he curls against the Beast’s chest. He may feel fragile, but he’s stronger than anyone the Beast has ever known. 

The top of his ears brush against the Beast’s cheek. 

Pinky’s presence brings hope. Because of him, the Beast dares to dream once more. 

Implementing this plan will be a monumental endeavor. But he and the rest of the castle will make it happen. 

Pinky has given him a purpose in a world that doesn’t want him. So the Beast pulls him close, and silently promises that he will do his best to bring the fairy tale he holds so dear into reality. 

End

No matter how your heart is grieving,  

If you keep on believing, 

A dream that you wish will come true. 

[poly-thot-one-piece-edition]

Hat Trick

Eustass Kid x cisfem!Reader x Trafalgar Law

CW: Language, violence, sexual themes, crass humor -

Summary: Hat Trick is a purely self-indulgent story. It's more porn than plot (at least at the start), but there's a story in there too.

It's my first multi-love story, and little slow going, but I hope you enjoy it.

18+ as always.

Chapter 4: Lawfully

The rest of the evening with Kid went well enough. He really enjoyed the older version of the movie, and you were able to watch most of it. You did hide into his chest a couple times, and he even told you when the offending scene was over, so you didn’t have to peek at your own risk.

It was really sweet, and not surprising. You had long since known that despite the bravado and attitude, Kid was kind. It was selective to people he cared about, and he could be a feral bastard when it concerned others, but sometimes a feral bastard was what was needed.

He left shortly after, and even in those few hours it had become more comfortable and more natural to touch and kiss one another. The apprehensive nervousness had melted away quickly, likely due to how long you had been friends. Even going into work with your next shift together was comfortable. Eustass laid off his usual levels of teasing and flirting, but he didn’t stop completely, so it didn’t feel weird.

It was a relief to, when Law and his friends came in to work out that nothing had changed between them. Or, if it had, it wasn’t obvious enough for you to pick up on.

Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday passed with ease, and you wished Eustass and Law well on their date. Law rolled his eyes at your word choice, but Kid laughed, promising to buy him dinner first.

You weren’t going to know how things went, part of the agreement was to not ask about it. It was mostly to keep Kid and Law from competing, but it was also so that no matter what happened no one else was worrying about the others gossiping. The three of you getting together once a month gave you all a chance to talk about what had been going on.

Everyone would be there, and that way no one was saying something secretly, or twisting facts to suit one or the other.

Not that you felt Kid or Law were duplicitous in the slightest. Kid was entirely too blunt to be deceptive, and while Law was strategic, he wouldn’t stoop to something like that. He’s more likely to decimate someone with facts - though you could see him being immeasurably deceitful and cruel if it was necessary to protect his crew. Kid would just burn the city down, but Law would cause the city to fall in on itself and see blame laid at the feet of whomever he wanted blamed for it.

Then there was Luffy. He was more to the point like Kid, but with less anger. Blunt like a hammer, destructive like a wrecking ball, with a fierce sense of personal honor. In the end you were glad all three weren’t your enemies, and relieved to know they were in alliance with one another.

The idea of them fighting one another left you thinking the Metro wouldn’t survive it - and this was a city that had weathered four emperors and seven warlords for decades at this point.

Whatever the case, Friday came, and that evening Law knocked at your door.

You were just as nervous with Law as you had been with Eustass.

He took off his heeled boots as the door closes behind him. A full six inches shorter than Eustass, the six-inch step up from the entrance to the hall wasn’t enough to have you and Law eye to eye, but it was closer.

Law takes his hat off and sets it on your head. “Should I get comfortable on the couch, or somewhere else, (Y/N)-ya?” He asks, his voice even and reassuring.

You take a step back, pulling the hat’s brim down a bit to hide your blushing face. “C-Couch.”

As he walks by, he ruffles the hat a little bit. “We’ll go at your pace, so just breathe.”

“Kid said something similar,” you admit, smiling a bit as you hear him grunt a little. “Are you hungry? I can order something.”

“I could eat,” he answers, sitting down on the couch. “Thai’s fine.”

Your mouth was open, but you snapped it shut, feeling your cheeks go hot. “Okay maybe I do order Thai too much.”

“The place nearby is good,” he admits, patting the couch next to him. “Order in a little bit, come and sit first.”

You smile a little to yourself, deciding to keep it tucked away how similar these two were. The little differences between them were enough to keep them from being clones, but that quiet kindness was the same. For Eustass it was tucked underneath a rough exterior and a loud voice, with Law it was hidden behind a well-practiced look of apathy and a tone that often sounded irritated before things had even started.

Instead of sitting beside him, you point to his lap. “May I?”

Law brings his legs together and opens his arms, a pleased smirk on his face as you straddle his lap the same way you had Kid’s. Your knees sink into the couch this time, Law’s body is lankier than Kid’s as he’s almost half as wide. He’s lithe and dexterous and built for parkour and suspension bondage – Eustass is a tank built to hold people in place while he rigs them into suspension bondage. You shove the thought into the back of your mind, dismissing it as Kid’s fault that you’ve had bondage on your mind since Monday.

Law’s cool hands are on your thighs. His expressions are more subtle than Eustass’, but there’s no mistaking the content look on his face right now.

“May I kiss you, Trafalgar Law?” You ask, cheeks going red and your eyes shifting away from his gaze as those pale yellow eyes threaten to cut you open and expose your soul as easily as breathing.

“As much as you wish,” he replies, his hands moving up your thighs to your lower back as lean forward. One hand on his chest, your other hand tilting back his hat that you’re still wearing, you lean down enough to brush your lips across his lightly. A soft zing of pleasure shivers down from your lips to your chest and you hear the same almost shivering gasp from him as you both catch your breath.

There’s a nearly palpable shift between the two of you. The hat falls to the couch as his hand was in your hair, cradling your head. Your body pressed against his as your lips crashed into one another. It was desperate frenzy as you both needed to be closer, to push into one another. You needed the cool doctor to ignite, you needed the soft taste of fruit and tea to disappear in the haze of pleasure as your tongues stole air from each other’s lungs.

The rush of pleasure and the lack of air has your dizzy and when you finally break the kiss Law needs to steady you as your head spins. Soft kisses from Law fall onto your neck and collarbone as you catch your breath.

“What the hell was that?” You gasp. It’s a purely rhetorical question, but the rush still has your head spinning.

“Attraction.” Law answers flatly.

Something about how he says it has you giggling. The giggle turns into a laugh and you’re looking into his eyes as the laugh turns into a wide smile, one that’s reflected on the somber man’s face as you put your forehead against his. You’ve seen Law smile genuinely maybe a dozen times in all the time you’ve known him, but this smile is somehow more beautiful and precious than any before it.

You tilt your head enough to kiss him again, softly, but persistently. Quiet gentle kisses exchanged between the two of you for a few moments as you sink comfortably against him.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur softly, and feel him tense. “I’m sorry I took so long, I’m sorry I fell for two.” You kiss him again and feel him relax. “I’m sorry we’re doing something so complicated. I’m sorry I couldn’t decide.”

His hands cup your face, holding you back a little and catching your gaze. The expression on his face is almost frustratingly neutral. “You have nothing to apologize for. I knew what I was getting into.” He pulls your face to his, kissing you softly. “I recall specifically telling you not to feel guilty, remember?”

You smile sweetly. “You did, my apologies.” You lean in, kissing him again before leaning back.

“Should I put that food order in? I rented a movie as well,” you explain, turning a bit look at the title again. “It’s called Clue, it’s an older movie, but it has multiple endings. It was that or something cerebral, and I figured it was better to go with something lighter.”

“Keeping things simple the first time?” He muses, and you nod. There’s a flicker on the stoic face and he lets a sigh slip. “It seems I’m a little jealous after all.”

“Hm?”

“You are not more, or less, to whoever is first with you, or who isn’t.” He says, “but it bothers me that he’ll get to hear you first.”

Your face goes red as you realize what he’s talking about. “It’s -.”

“We’re not going to have sex together at the same time,” he interrupts, his arms pulling you close as his low voice slips into your ear. “So someone was going to be first, and someone was going to have to wait. I’m not mad. I’m not complaining,” His tone is comforting, and his hands are moving over your back, sending little shivers through you. “But, if you’re okay with it, I’d like to hear you first.”

“Th-that’s…”

“You don’t need to do anything to me in return, (Y/N)-ya.” He assures you. “I won’t even need to take your clothes off.” His teeth tease your earlobe. “I won’t see anything first; I just want to hear you.”

“It feels like I’d be being unfair to you.” You admit.

“I promise, I’ll get all I want from it.”

You can practically feel the heat radiating off your face. “S-Sure, then.”

“Green?”

You nod. “Green.”

“Turn around, (Y/N)-ya,” he says, helping you shift so your back is to his chest, your legs on either side of his. He leans you back so your head is resting against his shoulder, and his hands slide down the front of you. “Relax, I’m not going to take anything off, I just want to hear you cum.”

His hands, cool to the touch with long fingers, disappear under your shirt and move over the curve of your bra. Dexterous fingers slip under the fabric of your bra and begin to tease your nipples. The soft cool touch sends shivers through you, causing your back to arch a little, and soft gasps to escape you. You can feel Law’s hot breath against your neck as he kisses the crook of it softly, wordlessly beckoning you to stay against him.

The cool sensation of his touch melts into something warm as the heat rises in you. You could feel yourself getting wet as he teases your stiff nipples. It send shivers of pleasure through you, and it was turning you on, but it wasn’t going to be enough. If it was, it was going to take forever to get you there, and the goal wasn’t to tease you for ages.

“Ah-mmm, Law, p-please,” your legs flex and you gasp as he pinches your nipples a little roughly.

“It’s not quite enough, is it?” He asks, his voice stern and almost apologetic.

You shake your head a little, your hands trembling against your shirt, shivering against the hands teasing you from under your shirt. “Hngh – it f-feels good, but, I n-need more, please!”

His left hand continues to tease your breast, his right hand traveling slowly down your stomach. “I promise I won’t go inside you,” he purrs into your ear. “Where do you want me to touch you?”

You make a strangled needy sound, your hand going over your eyes as you can feel your face practically glowing.

“My… um…”

“Be very specific, (Y/N)-ya, I’ll touch you exactly where you say.” He promises, his fingers teasing along the waist band of your pants. “I know my studious little polyglot remembers the proper term.” His lips brush against the flushed sensitive skin of your neck and you weren’t sure for a moment that you knew the proper term for yourself.

“G-glans clitoris… Clitoris glans?” You chuckle nervously, “I don’t remember my name right now.” You admit, tilting your head toward his neck and shifting enough to lick just below his ear. “Please, Law.”

You could hear him suck in a breath just as he spread his legs, opening yours wide as his fingers slipped past your waist band, under your panties and against your clit. His left-hand tenses against your breast, holding you against his chest as you buck against the sudden pleasure, your earlier begging turning into a sweet moan right by his ear.

You squirm against the pleasure, caught and held against his taut body. Skilled fingers tease your clit and relentlessly tease your nipple as you shiver against him. You can feel the cool metal of his rings against your skin, your arms pinned behind his, fingers grasping for the parts of him that they could reach. You weren’t even sure when he had moved to hold you in place like this, but the rising pleasure was intense, and you could only endure it.

A rough kiss, barely restrained, against the rise of your shoulder pushes you over the edge.

“L-Laaa-hhnngh!” His name melts into the sound of your orgasm as your body shudders against him. You let the gasping moans tumble from your lips as his fingers help you ride the wave of pleasure completely. Collapsing against him, twitching as his fingers tease you one last time before leaving you to catch your breath, your legs twitch against his, still trying to close from the pleasure.

You’re vaguely aware of him sucking the tips of his fingers clean as you catch your breath, and the act makes the heat rush back into your face. “That was delicious, (Y/N)-ya.” He says, his voice even and matter-of-fact.

That unshakable calm runs a pleasurable chill down your neck, but also makes you wonder what you could do to shake it. You move to get up and Law’s arms wrap around you. There’s enough resistance to stop you, but not enough to hold you if you decide to keep moving. You lean back and the scruff of his goatee tickles your neck as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

“Stay like this,” he requests. “Just for a moment.”

“Sure.” You reply, rubbing your cheek against his softly. “You okay?”

“I am.” He assures you, kissing your check. “However this goes, without worrying about the alliance, you tell me if he hurts you. Accidental or otherwise. No matter what you choose, even if I’ve said I need time, understand?”

“You make it sound like you’ve given up.” You say sadly. You hadn’t meant to make it sound like Eustass was going to be your pick just because you had decided to sleep with him that way first.

Law nips your ear, teasing the tingling flesh between his teeth for a moment and eliciting a soft moan from you. “I haven’t. I just wanted to say as much now. Besides – here, get up for a moment.” He says, letting you go and letting your stand up. He leans back against the couch, draping his arms over the back of it. “I think you haven’t realized you have four choices you can make at the end of this, (Y/N)-ya.”

Your head tilts. “Four?” Law nods, but doesn’t say anything. You start counting on your fingers. “One, the other, neither…” You pause and your brows furrow. “Both?” He gives you an easy smile and you feel your face flush again. “I… I thought that, um, wasn’t… possible. You two don’t really, I mean…”

You sit down on the coffee table, hands on your knees, looking down at the carpet between you and Law. “I don’t know what to think about that.”

“Then for now, don’t think about it.” He says easily. “There’s two full months and change between now and then. You don’t have to decide in the next few minutes, or the next few days.” He puts his hat back on your head. “For now, order some Thai, start the movie, and let me steal another kiss or two before the evening’s done.”

Law reaches out and tilts your chin up, kissing the tip of your nose. “And I promise it will be a good evening for me.”

[tzeenneth]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐏𝐈𝐓

The Iron Knight is a legendary champion of Tzeentch, said to be descended from the line of the first Daemon Prince of Tzeentch. As such, what is known about him is shrouded by the inexorable march of time and twisted further by the beings with who he keeps company: liars and schemers, the daemons of the Trickster. However, some tales persist even across deceptions, retellings, and all the different iterations: a mortal man from a storied line, stricken with nurgh wrought leprosy whilst untangling himself from a scheme woven by the Changer himself.

He manages to free himself and decimate both the Nurglite host responsible for his condition and the several enemy factions by luring them into their fetid embrace, but is slain by the Nurglish disease before he can truly enjoy the fruits of his labors. However, before the Plague Lord can lay claim to his soul, Tzeentch snatches it from between Nurgle's rotting fingers. So has the Iron Knight been a sore spot and point of contention between the Changer and Poxmaster, a subject that never fails to lessen the broad smile of Grandfather Nurgle.

The Knight is named such either for his constitution or his daemonic mask, said to hide his leprotic disfigurements. A creature of few words, the Iron Knight is one of the very few daemon princes of Tzeentch who does not have wings. Instead, he traverses the Crystal Lands on the back of a large Cockatrice. His abode, the Citadel of the Iron Knight, is well garrisoned and attended as well as decorated with the petrified forms of Daemon Princes and Greater Daemons foolish enough to mock his lack of wings.

Along with being master of the Citadel, the Iron Knight oversees the Black Pit. The Pit is a inky sub-dimension within the Crystal Lands that holds the prisoners of Tzeentch, though for what fell purpose none can say for sure. The Iron Knight is both charged with guarding this location and ensuring none of it's inhabitants leave and forbidden from actually leaving his citadel, cursed by Tzeentch for some slight no one quite remembers. The Winds of Ulgu blows strongly here and those taken by the Pit of Shades become yet another prisoner in this dark and endless pit. In order to obey Tzeentch's edict and observe his punishment, the Iron Knight makes use of shadowy, semi-corporeal clones to carry out his will.

Banner made with Driblex's Helbrass Reskin

[vrishchikawrites]

Hey! I'm sorry if it's a bother to you but I don't understand what's bad with the Twitter takes, can you please explain it to me? Again, I'm sorry if this is a bother or if this sounds rude, I'm just genuinely curious and my English is t good so I am a bit confused. Thank you.

oof my brain short circuits after reading the bad twitter meta take. Can you perhaps elaborate in easier words about the person replying and the long morality meta?

*rolls up her sleeves*

So, the original screen-shot morality meta essentially says that being a good person is easy if your life is comfortable and you have a safety net around you. Being a bad person is easy if you grow up in a rough environment with very few options available.

On the surface - that's partially correct. As in, a bad environment and upbringing can lead people down a bad path. Similarly, it is easier to be kind and good if you're in a privileged position.

But

The real world doesn't work like that. Rich, privileged, and comfortable people often are the most ignorant and least willing to rattle the boat. People who have experienced strife and hardship are often most motivated to prevent that from happening to someone else.

There are stories about people living paycheck to paycheck and still donating a portion of their income while billionaires won't even give people they employ proper wages. The screen-shot comment is very naive and blames the circumstances of a person's upbringing for everything. They don't take character into account at all. Some of the most horrible people today - including some serial killers - come from privileged backgrounds. Some of the best people come from disadvantaged backgrounds.

The difference is character.

Best example of this? Wei Wuxian. He's the sect disciple and a young master respected by all. But his first instinct is to do good. He was a street child that fought for scraps and his first instinct was to cover for JC. He has lived in poverty and privilege and he has consistently chosen good. His morality has always been crystal clear.

Lan Wangji has never known poverty or strife on the level of WWX, JGY, and XY. But he is also good. Unlike his privileged peers, he doesn't sit on his ass when people need help. He isn't selective about who he helps and doesn't help. LWJ, when his privilege is challenged, learns from it and adapts. He chooses to serve others even if it means leaving the comfort of his sect regularly.

On the other hand, XY and JGY both choose violence and manipulation every time they are given the opportunity to do something differently. XY decides to ruin XXC simply because he was scolded by him once.

JGY continued to choose violence and deception even when he reached a position of privilege. Even when he was leading a comfortable life, he chose to manipulate and kill people, sometimes just on a whim.

Good people, when pushed into bad acts because of circumstances, will eventually choose to do good when the circumstances change. Bad people will continue to be bad even when their life turns good.

The next point

A comment says that LWJ had the privilege of not having anyone he loved killed by WWX.

Yes. The person he loved was persecuted for doing the right thing and driven to death by an army. AND YET, LWJ chose to DO GOOD. He accepted his punishment, applied the lessons he learned, and SERVED THE UNDERPRIVILEGED.

The people who apparently suffered because of WWX's actions CHOOSE TO DO BAD. Like kill, torment, manipulate *coughjccough*

These people forget, very conveniently, that WWX didn't actually KILL THAT GIRL WHO RAN INTO AN ACTIVE BATTLEFIELD IN A FIT OF EMOTION. Actions have consequences. If you punch a person, you can fully expect them to punch you back. Your rights end where their nose begins. JZXun and JZXuan's rights ended the moment they choose to threaten WWX (yes, JZXuan asking WWX to stand down when facing 300 enemies is a threat. JZXuan was unforgivably naive then). The sects' right to any mercy or consideration ended the moment they choose to declare war.

Everyone lost their moral high ground when they decimated the entire Wen clan, including civilians, the elderly, children, the sick, and the disabled.

So that sweet-sounding moral quote they wrote down is absolutely sentiment without any sense. You can almost hear the wistful sigh as they turn a complex, fucked up situation into a pretty quote and lay all blame for people's shitty actions on WWX and LWJ.

[mondoreb]

End Times Prophecy Headlines: October 13, 2022

End Times Prophecy Headlines: October 13, 2022

End Times Prophecy Report HEADLINES THURSDAY October 13, 2022 And OPINION “And Jesus answered and said unto them, Take heed that no man deceive you.” —Matthew 24:4 “The best way to keep a prisoner from escaping is to make sure he never knows he’s in prison.” —Fyodor Dostoevsky ===INTERNATIONAL UKRAINE: Ukraine war: Zelensky calls for more sanctions after ‘new wave of terror’ RUSSIA: Russia’s…

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Duplicitous

Warnings: noncon/dubcon elements (rough sex, oral, cuckolding), deception.

This is dark!Loki and ft. some Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Loki is new to the team but receives a cool welcome from those at the Avengers compound. Assigned to complete his orientation, you try to start anew with the former villain of New York.

Note: Still working on Omerta and From Eden. Tbh, the last week has been a tough one mentally but I’m working on that. I’ve also been all over the place helping my mother get settled after moving to town. Whatever, life is life. Thanks to all your wonderful people.

Leave some feedback, like and reblog if you can <3

It was a long morning. Much of it had been spent with Tony and as any other meeting with the man, it swung between amiability and antagonism. It was easy to guess why he was agitated as he was determined to thrust the crux of his displeasure upon you. Tony was never one to just roll over and he held a grudge well, but he wasn’t heartless and Thor was one of his best. 

It was only unfortunate that the Asgardian had deemed himself a package deal. If his home was to be Earth, it wouldn’t be his brother’s too. Loki was different now, he sought redemption, to right his wrongs. It was a hard sell but the god was relentless and as usual, he prevailed.

“I want you to make this hell,” Tony’s words echoed in your head as you flipped through the workplace standards binder. “You are going to go through this with a fine tooth comb until that jackass can’t take anymore.”

These things were never easy. Going over protocol, safety regulations, workplace behaviour and etiquette. Usually you did your best to condense it all to make it more palatable; as much for you as the new hires. Now Tony wanted you to torture this man via dry ordinances as he wasn’t allowed to do so physically. The boss wouldn’t sign off until he was sure Loki suffered, though you were just as certain Tony had no plans to sign off on anything.

You checked the clock, it was almost noon already. You’d set up the conference room for your first session. The binders and files stacked neatly on one end as you sat in the middle. 

You rose and looked through the transparent wall. Pepper’s heels raced by as she hurried to Tony’s office with her phone at her ear. The usual chaos of the tower.

You stepped out into the hall and made your way to the kitchen and popped a capsule in the machine before you found a mug. You added water to the machine and listened to the whir as it spat orange pekoe from its nozzle. You hated the little pods of leaves but you didn’t have time to wait on the kettle. You added a touch of milk and checked your watch before you stole one of the scones left in the box Pepper had strolled in with that morning.

You cradled the crummy scone in a paper towel and as you neared the conference room, you found a broad pair of shoulders awaiting you. You had still not grown used to Thor’s lack of hair. Loki’s dark head appeared just on the other side of him and your dread sank into your stomach.

“Hey,” You approached. “Just in time.”

“My lady!” Thor boomed as he turned to greet you. “How are you?”

“Well, and you?” You couldn’t help but smile. “How is the city treating you so far?”

“We have seen many things,” He announced. “Many delicious foods.”

Loki was silent, his eyes dull as he resisted rolling them at his brother. 

“And are you doing more exploring today?” You wondered.

“Eh, I gotta see Tony but I figured I’d see Loki in for his first day,” He lowered his voice. “I told him to behave.”

“I can hear you,” Loki grumbled.

“Yes, well you already know I told you to behave,” Thor said. “So… behave.”

“Yes, mother,” Loki replied snidely.

Thor huffed and shook his head.

“I fear I’ve set him into a mood already,” Thor said. “I apologize.”

Loki blinked in exasperation but said nothing.

“Well, I guess we should begin and you should see Tony sooner than later,” You offered. “He called for the jet so he might not be here much longer.”

“Thank you,” Thor clapped your shoulder. “I promise, he has changed.”

You nodded and gave a weak smile. Thor left you and you turned to Loki. He stared at you a moment then his eyes drifted to the transparent door.

“Allow me,” He pushed the door inward and stepped inside to let you past. 

You looked down at your full hands and thanked him as you entered. You set your mug and scone down but didn’t touch them. You had hoped to enjoy them before his arrival but for once, Thor was timely. Or perhaps that was Loki’s doing. He seemed the more stringent of the two.

“Loki,” You waved to the chair across from you. “Nice to meet you.”

“Again,” He neared slowly and grabbed the back of the chair. “Did you forget?”

“A brief meeting, yes,” You said. “But I’ve been told you weren’t yourself.”

He sat carefully and leaned an elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I remember it though,” He assured you.

“I tend to remember other events that day a little more clearly,” You countered. 

“Mmm,” His brow twitched. “Yes, you Midgardians do cling to the more extreme details of my last visit.”

You wanted to scoff. Your last meeting had very nearly killed you. As creatures flew upon strange machines outside the windows of Stark Tower and buildings were decimated, you had caught a piece of shrapnel as one of the invaders crashed through the windows. You still wore the scar across your side; still remembered the god behind Tony’s bar, lecturing you upon your inferiority.

“This is a new start,” You slid a binder over to him. “Though not an exciting one.”

His fingers tapped on the blue cover as you opened your own and took a sip of your tea. 

“What is this?” He opened his slowly.

“The rules,” You answered. “Combat regulations, mission protocol, office standards… the fun stuff.”

“And did my brother have to sit through this tripe?” He asked.

“Your brother didn’t try to invade New York,” You said sharply. “And Tony likes him.”

“Ah, Stark,” He smirked. “Of course.”

“Did you want a tea? Anything to drink?” You asked.

His eyes flicked up and he considered you. “Very kind, but I’d rather we just begin.”

“Right,” You looked down and took a breath. “Probably best.”

🐍

The clock at the end of the room read past six. You yawned and rubbed your eyes. All the little quizzes and evaluations Tony had tacked on were taking a lot longer than you expected. Loki looked just as uninterested though he read along all the same and had yet to falter. 

You sniffed and leaned back in your chair. 

“Ready to call it a day?” You asked.

“Up to you,” He said coolly. “To be honest, it has been slightly preferable to my brother’s grating presence. Slightly.”

“He’s not that bad,” You chuckled.

“He’s not your brother,” Loki countered. “Have you ever had the pleasure of eating with him? It’s disgusting.”

You held back another laugh and shook your head. Your eyes caught a figure on the other side of the clear wall. Steve squinted through and pointed at Loki with a tilt of his head. You blinked and shrugged. Loki noticed and glanced over his shoulder.

“Ah,” He slowly turned back. “The golden avenger has returned.”

“Well…” You tapped your fingers on the table. “I am, uh, late.”

“Late?” He raised his brows.

Steve went to the door and opened it carefully.

“Sorry to interrupt,” He poked his head in. But I’ve been, uh…” He looked at Loki warily. “Texting you.”

“We were just finishing up,” You assured him. 

“Hello, Captain,” Loki pivoted his chair.

“Steve,” The other man corrected. “Thanks.”

“Ah,” Loki’s mouth twitched and he looked between the two of you. He stood up and turned back to you. “I didn’t realise. I shall see myself out.”

“We’ll pick this up tomorrow. Same time,” You said. 

“I look forward to it,” He said dryly.

Loki took the black jacket he’d slung over the back of his chair halfway through your session and nodded at Steve as he slipped past him. He strode along the wall and offered a two finger wave before he disappeared. Steve watched him with hands on his hips.

“What--”

“You haven’t talked to Tony?”

“I didn’t think he was serious,” Steve turned to you. “He didn’t--”

“Oh, you guys need to calm down,” You rolled your eyes. “He was perfectly… tame.”

You pulled out your phone and saw several notifications from Steve, along with a few emails. One was marked with a red exclamation which deemed it urgent and you opened it up. You glossed through it quickly.

“Steve,” You looked up. “You didn’t?--”

“It was Bucky too,” He said evasively. “We were just doing our job.”

“You collapsed a bridge,” You frowned. “Why is it always you?”

“No casualties,” He pleaded.

“Only me,” You scowled. “I’ll be buried in the paperwork.”

He lowered his chin guiltily. He neared shyly as you packed up your bag.

“How can I ever make it up to you?” He touched your arm.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you collected your mug and half-eaten scone.

“Cheesecake?” He smiled. 

“You can’t buy me with dessert,” You brushed past him and he followed you out into the hall.

“Really?” He said. “I know you like a little whip cream on top.” You entered the kitchen and rinsed out the cup and placed it in the rack. “But… we could try it on something else.”

You faced him and fought not to smirk. You shook your head.

“So the cheesecake is… foreplay?”

“Part of it,” He got closer and his hand settled on your hip. 

“Hmm,” You hummed as his lips hovered over yours. “Strawberry cheesecake?”

“My favourite,” He purred and kissed you. 

🐍

The next day, you found Loki waiting in the conference room. You had spent your morning trying to clean up after the super soldiers. You pushed through the clear door and rounded the table as you greeted Loki.

“You’re early,” You said as you took your seat. The binders were as they had been the day before.

“All the better to get this over with,” He said as you sat and rolled your chair closer to the table.

“You know, I am starting to think it would be a lot easier if you and Tony just had it out,” You opened the binder. “Well, easier for me.”

Loki snickered and flipped through his own binder.

“You and the golden boy,” He ventured as you found the right page. “Adorable.”

You glanced up at him and furrowed your brow. You cleared your throat and looked back to the pages.

“So, we were going over required training.” You said.

“Is that allowed in your little Midgardian handbook?” He prodded.

“We will cover that,” You assured him. “Not that I think you need to worry about it.”

“Hmm, no,” He mused. “I wouldn’t.”

You sat back and sighed.

“It might be easier if you at least tried to make friends here,” You said. 

“Friends?” He lifted a brow. “Who should I start with? Stark? Oh, I’m sure he’d be open to a little reconciliation. Or maybe Rogers? Hmm? He really seems the forgiving type. Or that little redhead thing? She seems peaceable.”

“You could begin with me,” You offered. “I’m not here to provoke you.”

He blinked and shifted in his chair.

“Have I been unkind?” He wondered.

“Not exactly,” You answered. “But not everything needs to be a… snipe.”

He considered you and his hand spread over the binder.

“It wasn’t meant to be,” He said evenly. “I bear you no hostility, though perhaps I do owe you an apology.”

“Apology?” You echoed.

“Regardless of the circumstance, I said what I said that day, it was cruel and there is no excuse,” He said. “You were wounded and I would have watched you die. It might have been a different version of me, but it was me. I apologise.”

“You don’t have to--” You touched your side without thinking. “Thank you.”

“And I will do my best to withhold my contempt. You do not deserve it.”

You were a bit shocked by his candour. You pressed your lips together and straightened the binder in front of you.

“That’s a good start,” You said. “So, now that’s cleared up…”

“What page was it?” He nodded and looked to his binder. He leaned it against the edge of the table as his eyes roved over the tight font. 

🐍

The rest of the week went much the same. However, Tony’s plan to chip away at Loki seemed not to be working as your patience wore away and the Asgardian remained ever stoic. He was almost amused as he humoured your Midgardian codes. 

Your weekend was well earned but didn’t allow for much rest. Steve was due to leave again that week so you had to squeeze what time you could out of him. It could be a couple days, or a week, or two. He could never really say and you never expected him to. You knew how it was when you got into the relationship.

All the while, you tried to catch up on the work delayed by Tony’s pointless ploy to drive Loki out. You hated that he had chosen you for this though you doubted he’d trust any other to do so.

On Monday, Loki was late. You were surprised. He had always been annoyingly early. You texted Steve and he replied with a heart emoji. The door whisked open and had your phone face down on the table. Loki sat heavily across from you, a scrape across his forehead and a split in his lip. His cheek was slightly swollen beneath his eye but he seemed barely fazed by his injuries.

“Oh my god,” You said. “What happened to you?”

“Training,” He smiled and hissed as the gesture pulled at the cut. “My brother… got a bit carried away.”

“And how does he look?”

“To the detriment of my pride, better than I do,” He said. “I did try to restrain myself, though my tongue does not obey me as well as my body.”

“Let me get you some ice,” You stood.

“Really, I’m fine.” He insisted.

“You’re bleeding.” You said as blood began to trickle from the split in his lip.

“I thought I’d stemmed it,” He reached up. “Forgive my lateness.”

“That’s the last thing I’m worried about,” You scoffed. “One second.”

You went to the kitchen and grabbed an ice pack from the freezer and the first aid kit from beneath the counter. You returned to Loki and set your wares down. You flipped open the metal box and grabbed an alcohol wipe.

“Did you clean the cuts at least?” You asked.

“I can handle it,” He assured you.

“Sorry, sorry,” You flicked the packet. “I sound just like my mother right now.”

“I do appreciate it though.” 

He took the little paper packet and tore it open. He blindly wiped the cut along his hairline and that on his lip. You offered him some gauze and he thanked you before he pressed it to his lip. When the blood slowed, he grabbed the ice pack and held it to his cheek.

He stood and you quickly backed away as he tossed his mess in the bin. You packed up the kit as he sat again.

“Thank you,” He said again and you pushed aside the metal box.

“You know, it’s not too uncommon to have a bloody lip here,” You rounded the table and sat across from him. “You good though?”

“Very,” He said with a slight smirk. “I have been anticipating this section most fervently.” He opened the file before him. “Office etiquette. I suppose I am sorely lacking in that.”

You almost laughed at his quip. He wasn’t so cold as that first day and you no longer saw the villainous invader before you. You saw someone wildly out of place. For a moment, you felt bad for him. The glimmer in his eyes quickly smothered it and you wondered for a moment. This was Loki; he could more than handle himself.

🐍

Steve showed up only a couple hours later and waved at you through the glass. He had his bag. He was leaving. You tried not to stutter as you continued reading through the clauses before you and Loki seemed barely bothered by your momentary lapse. You swept a paper out of another folder.

“So, another pop quiz,” You said sourly. “While you fill that out, I’ll just excuse myself for a moment.”

“Very well,” He accepted and played with the pen. 

“Ten minutes.” You promised as you stood and slid the paper to him.

He nodded and looked dully at the sheet. You hurried around the table and out into the hall. Steve retreated and you followed so you could not be seen through the transparent wall.

“Going?” You asked glumly.

“I shouldn’t be long. It’s an easy in and out.” He rubbed your arm.

“Oh? And who’s going with you?” You asked.

“Um, Sam,” He said.

“Ha, sure, easy,” You kidded. 

“And what about him?” Steve nodded to the conference room. “How long’s this gonna take?”

“Well, with all Tony’s bookmarks, probably the rest of my life,” You grumbled.

“Gee,” He frowned. “I don’t envy you.”

“Rub it in,” You huffed. “I’ll miss you.”

“You too,” He leaned in to kiss you.

Your lips met and you grabbed onto his shoulder. You wanted to kiss him forever just to make him stay. But he had to go and you had to get back to work.

“While interoffice relationships are permitted so long as the proper legal protocol is followed, open displays of affection are prohibited as they are unprofessional and unseemly in the workplace and may lead to discomfort of others.” Loki’s voice cut through the air.

You pulled away from Steve and looked to him aghast. You heard Steve sigh and he hitched his duffle up on his arm. Loki held up the paper and grinned.

“Sorry to interrupt but I finished and… well, I think I’ve learned a lot,” He taunted.

“Apparently,” You turned back to Steve as he glared at Loki. “Sorry, I gotta go but… let me know when you can that you’re safe.”

“Of course,” He tore his eyes from Loki. “I love you.”

“You too,” You patted his chest. “See ya.”

“Yeah,” He shook his head and shot Loki one last sneer. “Bye.”

You watched Steve go and turned back to Loki. You hid your irritation and neared to take his paper.

“Thanks,” You said as you swept back into the conference room.

You sat and checked his work. Perfect, as ever. You were certain he didn’t care about any of this but he never wavered. You added it to the pile and looked up at him. He leaned back in his chair coolly.

“Did I pass, teacher?” He teased.

“Why did you do that?” You asked.

“Just practicing my learning,” He smirked.

You shook your head at him and flipped the page.

“Moving on,” You said.

“Must be difficult. Being apart so much.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” You said. “It’s personal.”

“Apologies,” He said. “I was only attempting small talk.”

“It’s okay,” You said. “I just… to be quite honest, I’m cursing Tony as much as you probably are.”

🐍

Another week of tedium and you were ready to tap out. And you were further irritated that Loki showed no sign of distress. He was just as cool as ever as you went through the ridiculous mandates. Just as irksome as you glanced at your phone between sections. His curious, almost taunting eyes, lit up along with your screen.

But you kept on and on Friday, you let him leave a full twenty minutes early. You stayed another hour as you caught up on the rest of your workload. You barely made a dent but you just wanted to go home and hide in bed. Your empty bed. You hoped Steve would return soon.

You yawned as you drove to your building. Your fatigue mounted as you rode the elevator to your floor and neared the door of your condo. It was unlocked. You hesitated and pushed inside. You blinked as you looked around. The lamp in the living room was on but no other light shone and nothing seemed out of place.

You stepped further inside as you dug your hand into your purse and clutched the can hidden in its depths. Another light came from your bedroom door and you carefully crept down the hall in your heels to peek inside. You pulled out the can and screamed as a shadow appeared in the doorway.

You didn’t have a chance to spray the mace as it was batted out of your hand and the surprised chuckle eased your fears. Steve grabbed your arms as he steadied you. He was freshly showered and smelled of his sandalwood soap. He wore only the pair of old grey sweats with the hole in the knee. You shook your head at yourself and smiled.

“When did you get back?” You asked.

“About an hour ago. Didn’t think I’d beat you home but I had to try,” His hands slipped from your arms and he embraced you. “You miss me?”

“Did you miss me?” You countered.

“Of course,” He bent and kissed your lips, rocking you slightly. He pulled away and lifted a brow. “You look tired. Too tired?”

You giggled and hit his chest. He released you and slid your purse from your arm.

“Don’t worry, I can do all the work,” He offered. “You just get… comfortable.”

He backed away and set your bag on his dresser. You glanced at the chair where you usually put it and shrugged. You stepped out of your shoes and tucked them down beside the dresser. You stood and removed your blazer. Steve moved slowly to the bed and dropped down on his stomach as he watched you, his head cradled in his hand.

You felt like blushing. He hadn’t been like this in a while. The last few times he returned, he’d been tired; quiet. You gave him his space and he came to you after a while. You knew he needed the chance to decompress but sometimes it felt like he thought your time without him was easier. That your job was easier.

You unbuttoned your blouse and tossed it over the chair, shimmied out of your trousers and let them wrinkle on the seat. Your back ached from sitting all day in the chair and your muscles were tense from weeks sitting across from Loki. He was easier to deal with but that little glimmer of paranoia remained.

You unhooked your bra and swung it around before you let it fly across the room. You laughed as Steve hummed and you teasing pushed your fingers under the elastic of your panties. You paused and gave him a cheeky look. He groaned and perked up.

“You need help?” He asked.

“Well, not with these,” You shoved the panties down your thighs and they fell to your feet. “But I wouldn’t mind a nice massage. My back is killing me.”

“Hmm,” He sat up. His pants did little to hide his impatience. “I could do a massage.”

He patted the bed as he shuffled back to the edge. You went to the bed and climbed up. You eased yourself down onto the mattress, your face nestled between the pillows as you sighed. His hand brushed your leg and ran up to squeeze your ass. He urged your legs apart and moved between them.

“You’re tense,” He said as he pushed his hands over your ass and up your back. His fingers traced the scar along your side and lingered there. It was always so sensitive and made you shiver.

“It’s been a long week,” You turned your head to speak.

“Oh yeah?” He wondered. “He… giving you a hard time?”

“Not really but… I don’t wanna think about work.”

“Then don’t,” He ran his thumbs along your shoulder blades and drew a groan from you. 

You turned back to the pillows and stretched your arms up around your head. His hands kept moving, firm, attentive, magic. Your voice got louder and louder as he found the knots and the little aches perfectly. It was rare for him to be so thorough. Often he was thinking so much about what came next, he barely glossed across your flesh.

He gripped your hips and you felt his breath on your skin. He laid a trail of kisses along your back; lower, lower, lower. He dragged his lips over your ass and nibbled your thigh, then your other. He urged your pelvis up and you obliged. You bent your legs just a little to support yourself, your head buried in the pillows.

He got down on his elbows as he pushed his head between your legs and slid his tongue along your folds. He gently began to lap and your thighs began to tingle. The flick of his tongue grew more deliberate as he brought his hand up to tease your clit. He poked your entrance with his tongue and hummed.

Your fingers closed around the duvet and you lifted your head. You whined as you felt the pressure building. You breathed through your teeth and your entire body shook. You were surprised by your orgasm, how quickly it swelled and crashed. Your thighs quivered and you bit down on the corner of the pillow as you came.

He kept on and you whimpered. Your voice floated around you as your entire being buzzed. His purrs sent a shiver along your spine as his tongue kept on. Then you heard your name. A hollow tone. Confused, familiar.

The warmth of Steve’s mouth left your cunt and you turned. Frantic you stared at the man in the doorway of your bedroom. You looked between him and the identical figure kneeling on the end of the bed. What the fuck?

The Steve in the doorway stormed the other. They met at the end of the bed and you were almost crushed beneath them as you backed up against the headboard. Scared, you watched them tussle until they rolled onto the floor with a crash. The grunts were startlingly similar.

You crawled across the bed and looked down at the struggle. The panic brewed in your chest. You hopped off and grabbed the naked Steve’s shoulder.

“Get off! What’s going on?!” You pulled and found yourself flung back. 

You tried to grab him again and found yourself drawn back by an invisible force around your neck. You were dragged back to the bed, almost choking as the blankets wrinkled beneath you as you tried to latch onto them. You stopped at the headboard and felt along your throat, a searing pain in your palm as the unearthly bound tightened.

You kicked out and the sounds of struggle seemed to fade. You heard Steve groan and watched the naked one stand. He went to the chair and dumped your clothes from it. He carried it to the end of the bed and lifted the other onto the seat. Eerie green lights wrapped around his wrists and ankles, a thicker one snaked around his throat and his lashes fluttered as he tried to blink away his daze.

“What--” 

As the naked Steve turned to you, his blond hair darkened to black and his broad shoulders shrunk, a slightly slimmer and taller figure before you. You wriggled and tried to pull at the restraint at your throat once more. You hissed as your hands burned terribly and rescinded them.

“Why?” You kicked your legs and they were stilled by the same odd green glow. “Loki! Stop.”

“Stop? Why, dear…” He turned and slapped Steve’s cheek. Steve shook his head and his blue eyes seemed to focus. “...you were just starting to have fun.”

“Leave him alone,” You tried to get up but were drawn back even more. Your arms were forced out and your ankles tugged further apart. “Loki!”

“Oh, I love to hear my name on your lips,” He purred as he came closer. 

He drew a slow circle in the air and your body turned so your head was at the foot of the bed. He knelt and turned your head as he pressed his lips to yours. He devoured you as he pushed his tongue into your mouth.

“Loki!” Steve barked and you heard the chair creak slightly before he cried out. “Lo-ki!” His voice was strained. “Don’t touch--”

Steve’s shouts fizzled out as Loki drew away. You were flipped sharply onto your stomach and you squealed as your head spun. Loki climbed up swiftly and straddled your ass. He ran his hands over your back and squeezed your shoulders. 

He leaned over you and grabbed a handful of your hair. He lifted your head so your eyes met Steve’s. 

“You want to hate me, Rogers, but you haven’t any reason,” He taunted. “So let me give you one.”

“What do you think Thor will do when he finds out? Tony will--”

“You can tell my brother but he’s forgiven me worse and Tony, well, he could have an unfortunate accident in that lab of his,” Loki slithered. “Or maybe this darling little toy might break before I’m done with her. Pity.”

“You--”

“Would.” Loki insisted as he dropped your head and sat back. He hit the back of your head roughly. “This isn’t love, Rogers. It’s not even a crush. This is just… fun.” His fingers crept down your back as he slid back. “Oh, wouldn’t it be a scandal; the golden avenger murders his own lover. Even if it was an accident, well, that serum of yours… dangerous stuff.”

“No one would believe--” Steve choked before he could finish.

“You think I couldn’t make them? What reason do I have to frame you? And it would be easy enough to stage it all.” Loki preened as he poked between your legs. He rubbed your folds as he spoke. “What they believe hardly matters if she’s gone, eh, Rogers?”

You croaked as the force squeezed your neck and you flailed as you gulped for breath. 

“Stop! Stop!” Steve pleaded. The pressure relented and you coughed and gasped. “Loki, please… don’t hurt her.”

“Oh, I never intended to hurt her,” Loki shoved his fingers inside you and you whimpered. “In fact, quite the opposite. Weren’t you having fun, darling?” You closed your eyes and he pinched your thigh. “Darling?”

“Y-yes,” You murmured into the mattress. “Please--”

“Shhh, you don’t have to beg,” He keened. “But I do love to hear it.”

He pushed his legs between yours as he continued to finger you. You could hear Steve’s heavy, angry breaths. Your own were shallow and frantic. Loki spread his fingers and you felt another prod at your entrance. He held you open as he slipped in; two fingers still in you as his cock stretched your walls. 

He impaled you and pulled his fingers out. He sighed as he wiggled his pelvis and lifted your ass. He got even deep as his hands grasped your hips. You sniffled as you fought the heat behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve uttered. You heard the chair wobble but still again as he let out an agonized growl.

“No,” You gulped. “I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

Loki pulled back and slammed into you. You squeaked and he did it again.

“You can have your little reunion when I’m done,” He thrust so hard the bed jolted with each tilt of his hips. “Oh, look at her. She’s shaking again.”

He sped up, a little at a time, until he was hammering into you. You ached from his relentless rhythm and tugged against the bonds. He bent over you and hooked his arms under your shoulders and pulled you up. He bounced you against him, your thighs draped over his as he worked your body.

You bit your lips and turned your head. You couldn’t look at Steve.

“He can’t look away,” Loki whispered in your ear. “I made sure of it.”

You whined as he continued to use you. His hand slid down to your clit as his other arm wrapped around your chest. He pounded into you from below as he began to rub. You felt the same sudden rise. The same irresistible tickle. You gritted your teeth and moaned.

You let out a pathetic sob as you came. Your entire body convulsed and you pushed your head back against Loki’s shoulder. His breath glossed over your cheek and he bent to press his lips to your flesh. He nuzzled further down and bit into your neck. He snarled as he thrust into you hard and deep.

He shuddered as his hips spasmed and he rocked through his orgasm. He came inside you, a sickly flood of warmth. Your arms were kept suspended to either side of you as you struggled to get away from him. You hung your head and squeezed your eyes shut.

He pulled out and let you fall forward. You caught your breath and slowly moved your hand to your throat. You raised yourself shakily and looked to Steve. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted, his face pale.

“Steve,” You reached out to him. 

As you made to climb off the bed, you flew back to the mattress, flat on your back. Loki strode around the bed as he snickered. He pushed his long hair away from his face.

“Now, now, you don’t think that’s it, darling.” He licked his lips as he came to the end of the bed and stood between you and Steve. “We have two weeks to make up for. Two. Grueling. Weeks.”

[listless-brainrot]

how exactly would you say jet and sokka are foils?? I never thought of it that way!

i’m so glad you asked anon!! ok ok so let me try my best to get my thoughts in order it’s been a while since i’ve touched on this! this got kinda long so lemme put it under a read more to save your dash:

(side note: a large majority of this analysis stems from what i believe is the original writers’ intent. the demonization and vilification of jet and his extremism  in order to portray sokka as someone morally superior/a better leader is something i personally don’t agree with. these are all just analyses and observations derived from the presented text, and that’s just something to keep in mind while reading this. the following is less my own opinion, and moreso me trying to extrapolate the writer’s intentions directly, as i can’t write this analysis without acknowledging said intent.)

so i’m gonna open this post with the idea that jet’s episode is inherently a sokka episode. the events that happen are to contribute to his development and the main conflict centralizes around him. i say this because of what the episode opens with: sokka struggling to prove himself as a competent leader to the rest of the gaang. this is early on in season one, so sokka hasn’t necessarily “proven” himself yet as the braniac, common sense leader guy who helps keep everyone else in line. emphasis on yet, hence where this episode comes in.

the beginning scene has the following exchange (thanks avatarspirit.net):

Sokka (to Aang): I know you all want to fly, but my instincts tell me we should play it safe this time and walk. Katara: Who made you the boss? Sokka: I'm not the boss—I'm the leader. Katara (incredulous): You're the leader? But your voice still cracks! Sokka: I'm the oldest and I'm a warrior. (tries to speak deeper) So...I'm the leader! Katara: If anyone's the leader, it's Aang. I mean, he is the Avatar. Sokka: Are you kidding—he's just a goofy kid! Aang: He's right.

Katara: Why do boys always think someone has to be the leader? I bet you wouldn't be so bossy if you kissed a girl. Sokka: I-I've kissed a girl—you...just haven't met her. Katara: Who? Gran-gran? I've met Gran-gran. Sokka: No—besides Gran-gran. Look, my instincts tell me we have a better chance of slipping through on foot and a leader has to trust his instincts. Katara: Okay, we'll try it your way Oh Wise Leader.

here, we see sokka struggling to be taken seriously (mostly by katara). we get the sense that the others don’t see him in any sort of responsibile light. sokka, as of right now, is sort of in the role of “older brother who takes charge just because he’s the oldest”, and neither aang nor katara seem to really take this resulting attitude seriously.

enter jet.

jet is the self assured, confident, charming, adaptive, competent leader who is, as of right now, everything sokka is not. jet’s first introduction is he and the freedom fighters decimating a fire nation camp that they all stumbled into, and jet even takes down one of the soldiers he was trying to go after. this puts sokka in a light of incompetence. he then experiences jealousy and mistrust when jet is around, as aang and katara immediately trust this stranger’s judgement over his own, which is suspicious and arguably hurtful, especially when he has known aang and katara for much longer than jet has and has been trying so hard to prove himself to them, only to have all his efforts shoved off to the side the moment they meet some guy.

Jet: One day, we'll drive the Fire Nation out of here for good and free that town. Katara: That's so brave. Sokka (Sarcastically): Yeah, nothing's braver than a guy in a treehouse. Katara: Don't pay any attention to my brother. Jet: No problem. He probably had a rough day.

something to note is just how one-sided this jealousy is- jet acknowledges that sokka is smart and has valuable skills, especially later on when he has him come along for a mission. a lot of sokka’s struggle in this episode is pretty internal, outside of the many times he has sarcastically commented about jet and shown visible disdain. he has nothing to actually hold against jet- as of right now, his biggest grudge is that jet is a better leader than him.

at least, until sokka’s suspicions of him are confirmed and his plans reveal themselves to be “nefarious”, and this is where the divide between jet and sokka becomes more clear.

i’ll just quickly recap what happens but jet: attacks and beats up an old fire nation man and presumably planted a knife on him and said he was an assassin, lied to and used both katara and aang to fulfill his own plans and hid his true intentions from the both of them, and he also attempted to destroy the village of gaipan that he was saving through flooding it and killing everyone in it.

more importantly, though, is that sokka discovers jet’s plans and spies on him, which eventually leads to this confrontation.

Sokka: I heard your plan to destroy the Earth Kingdom town. Jet: Our plan is to rid the valley of the Fire Nation. Sokka: There are people living there Jet—mothers and fathers and children. Jet: We can't win without making some sacrifices. Sokka: You lied to Aang and Katara about the forest fire! Jet: Because they don't understand the demands of war. Not like you and I do. Sokka: I do understand. I understand that there's nothing you won't do to get what you want. Jet: I was hoping you'd have an open mind, but I can see you've made your choice. Jet: I can't let you warn Katara and Aang. Take him for a walk--a long walk. Sokka: You can't do this! Jet: Cheer up, Sokka. We're gonna win a great victory against the Fire Nation today.

here, we see a conflict of morality between jet and sokka, despite having a shared goal: to destroy the fire nation. this is a moment that the narrative is trying to show that jet is someone sokka could’ve become, should he lose sight of his own principles. sokka and jet are put in direct contrast with one another, and what follows is supposed to be a testament of that morality. we get to see the inner conflict of who is a good/better leader become an external one. 

sokka refuses to let the innocents of gaipan drown, even though there are fire nation present within the village. previously, sokka has been shown to be extremely quick to anger, especially when firebenders are even mentioned, much like jet. but here, he is refusing to let this happen because of his own morals and principles, which jet is shown to lack. he is being upstanding as a leader through his example and restraint, even when no one is around. he is defending what he believes is right, as is jet, except: the moment their views and beliefs don’t align, is when jet decides to turn on sokka.

and it takes the deception of jet and the severity of his actions for aang and katara to realize who they should’ve believed in and trusted.

Aang: Sokka's still out there—he's our only chance. Katara: Come on, Sokka. I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Please.

the episode ends with the village flooded, but its occupants still alive, thanks to the actions of sokka, who took the time to warn and save these people he didn’t know, even though some of which were fire nation. sokka proves himself to be both selfless and competent, thus reaffirming his friends’ belief in both him and his leadership, which he has now proven to be just and sound.

unlike jet, who has shown that he leads through deception and lies, and as such, is not sokka.

as much as jet sokka could’ve been, jet can never be sokka because of what he lacks morally. and in this episode, sokka makes a conscious choice to ensure that he will not let himself become what jet has shown himself to be, now that he’s seen it, and is allowed to develop as a leader from that point on. 

tl;dr: sokka and jet are intentional character parallels, and jet services sokka’s development and growth as a leader through existing as his opposite.

[randomposterofstuff]

Why I still appreciate AOT/SNK despite how it ended

Hi, all!

I still have a lot of thoughts running rampant in my mind. I plan to express each idea individually. By this, I mean that one idea will be the subject matter of one post. I have many thoughts, and it would be a really long post if I include all of them in just one. Haha.

But for this particular post, I would like to express that even though I have mixed feelings about the conclusion, I still appreciate Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin. I admit that I only joined the fandom recently. Haha. But I became invested in the story and its characters fairly quickly.

I have mixed feelings about the ending. And as of now, they lean more towards disappointment and frustration. (I will elaborate more on what I think of it in another post.) Haha. But despite this, the series still gave us many, many incredible scenes and exciting plot lines. Furthermore, it also offered critical insights on complex subject matters.

Fair warning: This is another lengthy post. Haha.

A. It is entertaining

AOT/SNK is very entertaining. The action scenes alone had us on the edges of our seats. And those epic fight scenes were nicely complemented by compelling storylines involving deception, mystery, and power struggles. A personal favorite scene of mine is Levi Ackerman’s fight scene against Kenny’s Anti-Personnel Squad. The action and the conspiracy which led to it were amazing and jaw-dropping. (Side note: Ackerman Supremacy forever!)

B. It offers critical input on relevant issues

But the series is more than just enjoyable. It is also critical and reflective. Many people have said that AOT/SNK is a commentary on the many ills that plague human civilization and society. And I agree with this.

The series has invited us to think critically about war, violence, and trauma and their various effects on different people. It also has encouraged us to reflect on the power of information and perspectives.

1. AOT/SNK on war, trauma, violence and their effects

It showed us how a once innocent girl like Mikasa Ackerman became a highly skilled combatant because she feared losing her loved ones to violence. After witnessing her parents get killed in front of her while she was helpless to do anything, Mikasa became motivated to fight to protect the very few precious people left in her life.

It showed us how a former thug like Levi Ackerman realized that he could put his exceptional skills to better use by staying with the Survey Corps/Scouting Regiment instead of returning to the Underground. When he lost Isabel and Furlan to Titans, he felt unadulterated rage and pain. This also caused him to see the threat that the Titans posed to humans and influenced his decision to remain as a soldier.

It showed us how a once self-centered Jean Kirchstein transformed into a dedicated soldier and reliable leader after seeing the decimated corpse of his closest friend and companion. Jean’s change of heart was admirable. However, it was unfortunate that the change was caused by something as tragic as losing Marco.

It also showed us how a cowardly Floch Forester became a violent and narrow-minded extremist. When he was first introduced, he was afraid of dying in battle. But the war and struggle against Marley caused him to view anyone who wasn’t an Eldian as the enemy, even if they were only unarmed civilians. Ironically, his extremist views had made him a braver fighter. At one point, he had even told his allies to dedicate their hearts to the new Eldian Empire.

2. AOT/SNK on the effects of prejudice, propaganda, and indoctrination

I think that the series had also brilliantly portrayed how prejudice, propaganda, and indoctrination affect different people from different sides.

i. Propaganda in Marley

It showed us how the current generations of Eldians were forced to pay for their ancestors' sins. The old Eldian empire under King Fritz and his successors until Karl Fritz mercilessly conquered lands and destroyed many lives. Understandably, this caused the other nations and peoples of the olden times to hate Eldians. However, this hatred was unfortunately passed down from generation to generation. The crimes of the old Eldian Empire were committed thousands of years ago. Yet, the Eldians who were borncenturies afterward were still despised and viewed as devils.

This millennia-old hatred was also used by Marley to spread propaganda to keep itself in power and to keep Eldians in the internment zones across the world in check. They taught Eldians that because of their ancestors' sins and their supernatural ability to transform into Titans, they were monsters and plagues upon the Earth. They were also taught that they needed to repent to absolve themselves of the crimes of their forefathers.

This propaganda led to many Eldians believing that they deserved to be treated poorly and that they had to work hard to be respected as actual people. This mindset was what allowed the Marleyan Warrior Program to become successful. One privilege that came with being a Warrior of Marley and a family member of such Warrior was being granted honorary Marleyan citizenship. It was viewed as an honor and a sign of respect.

It was because of this that Gabi and Reiner Braun both aspired to become Warriors. Gabi trained as a Warrior because she wanted to prove to the world that there are Eldians who are good people. She herself had admitted that the struggles she faced as an Eldian were what motivated her to work hard. On Reiner’s part, he joined the program because he assumed that becoming an honorary Marleyan would complete his broken family. He thought his Marleyan father would live together with him and his Eldian mother once he became a Warrior. But alas, he was proven wrong since his father rejected him despite his efforts.

On the flip side, it also caused other Eldians to become hateful and resentful of superpowers like Marley. They were tired of being treated as second-class citizens and formed the Eldian Restorationist Movement. The Restorationists believed that Marley was feeding them deceitful propaganda. While this is indeed true, they instead believed that the source of all Titan power, who they reverently called the great Founder Ymir, was a benevolent being who would never harm anyone. It was eventually revealed that this was not true either.

The Restorationists had extreme views. These views caused Grisha Yeager to use his first son Zeke as a means to an end. The Restorationists had wanted to overthrow Marley utilizing the power of the Titans. And Grisha had immediately offered his son without any hesitation to their cause by enrolling him into the Warrior Program to become a spy for them. The Yeager patriarch was so focused and engrossed with their goal that he had neglected to act as an actual father to his then young son. He was more invested in Zeke's progress as a Warrior candidate than in the latter's growth and happiness as his son.

ii. Propaganda in Paradis

It was also revealed that the inhabitants within the Walls were also taught propaganda. As readers and viewers, we all know that the people of Paradis were initially ignorant of the truth of the world and of the Titans because King Karl Fritz erased the memories of the island’s first inhabitants. We all knew that most of them believed that they were the last living humans in the world and that the rest were wiped out by Titans around 100 years ago. The misinformation spread by Karl Fritz endangered the people of Paradis. It cultivated and propagated ignorance which left them vulnerable to attacks from other nations.

As such, they were clueless and defenseless against the Warriors of Marley when they first attacked. And they would’ve continued to be defenseless had it not been for Grisha’s journals and the memory-related powers of Eren’s Attack Titan. The lack of information and the misinformation they received had placed them in great jeopardy.

When the truth came to light, the Eldians of Paradis were divided. One side sought to broker for peace with the other nations. They wished to show that the people of the island mean no harm. The people of this side were willing to overlook the terrible deeds that Marley had committed if it meant that they could finally achieve true peace.

The other side saw the other nations, especially Marley, as enemies who wished to exterminate them. They were disgusted and infuriated by what Marley had done. These Eldians wanted to take arms and fight for the establishment and freedom of the new Eldian Empire.

2. AOT/SNK on the power of narrative in relation to the cycle of hatred

One thing that the series masterfully executed is the portrayal of the importance of narratives.

i. The Paradis Perspective

During the first arc, it was shown how helpless the people inside the Walls were when Titans attacked the Shiganshina District. We also saw the trauma that a young Eren Yeager experienced when he saw his mother get eaten by a Titan. We witnessed first-hand how a young child lost his parents and his home. And how this loss cultivated his understandable anger and became his primary motivation for becoming a soldier for humanity.

Fans, readers, and viewers sympathized and supported Eren because of this. By presenting how the destruction affected him, we all rooted for him and his allies. This narrative also showed us how countless soldiers of the Survey Corps/Scouting Regiment lost their lives during the fight against the Titans. From a spectator's point of view, the Titans were beasts that killed humans who were significantly weaker and smaller than them and monsters that laid waste wherever they went. As such, this perspective had led many of us to resent Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner when they were revealed to be the Colossal, Female, and Armored Titans, respectively.

ii. The Marleyan Perspective

But this all changed when we were shown the Marleyan perspective. When the Marleyan Arc began, we were shown how Eldians on the other side of the sea were poorly treated. We saw how they were brainwashed to believe that Paradis Island's inhabitants were the true devils beyond salvation, whereas they could still be redeemed. When these things were gradually revealed to us, we eventually understood why Bertolt, Annie, and Reiner did the terrible things they did. Because of these revelations, we started to become more sympathetic towards the Warriors.

The power of narrative was especially emphasized in the Raid on Liberio. During Willy Tybur’s declaration of war against Paradis, he revealed the world's true history and King Karl Fritz's plan. He also announced that the founding Titan's power was stolen from the royal family inside the Walls by Eren and that the latter had planned to use it to attach the rest of the world.

Not soon after his announcement, Eren transformed and attacked the people in attendance. The Survey Corps had also arrived to provide manpower and backup. In the process, hundreds of civilians and visiting dignitaries were killed.

All of these things lent credence to the propaganda about Eldians being devils. From the eyes of a bystander, Eren and the Survey Corps were murderers who destroyed a city full of innocents. This was how Gabi Braun viewed them at the time. She was raised with Marley's propaganda. As such, her already present hatred was amplified when she saw her hometown get destroyed and her friends and neighbors get killed in front of her. While her general prejudice towards the Eldians of Paradis was unjustified, the pain and anger she felt during the Raid on Liberio were very much valid and understandable.

iii. On the cycle of hatred and how to end it

It is because of these narratives that the cycle of violence continued on for so long. No one narrative is more right or less wrong than the other. This is because the losses and struggles that each side suffered were all very real and very valid. It is not fair to quantify the validity of a person’s pain.

The neglect and loneliness that Zeke felt as a child were valid. The grief and rage Gabi felt when her friends were killed were also valid. The heartache that Niccolo experienced when Sasha died was also valid. The depression and trauma Reiner sustained after his mission on Paradis Island were likewise valid. The hurt Connie felt when he was betrayed by people he trusted was valid. Jean's sadness at losing Marco and Sasha was valid. The anguish Levi felt when he was left with no choice but to slaughter his transformed comrades was valid. The point here is that no one's pain is more valid than that of others. There are different types of pain, and they are all valid.

It is from these losses and pain that anger stems. Anger is a very valid emotion. However, the way people choose to act on their anger is not always valid. On this, the choice to express anger through violence is the root cause of the cycle of hatred. It is also what perpetuates the vicious cycle. I think that this message was executed well in the scene where Niccolo confronts Gabi and reveals her as Sasha’s killer to the Brauses.

It is also during this scene that the answer to ending the cycle of hatred was explained through the wise words of Mr. Braus.

Screenshots taken from Season 4, Episode 13 of the Attack on Titan anime.

Mr. Braus acknowledged that the world is like a giant forest where violence is nearly always afoot. He understood that violence will continue to exist unless people put a stop to hatred. He sagely advised that it is up to the older generations to bear the sins of the past and their effects and consequences. This is so that the youth of the future could live in peace. And he backed his words with action by choosing not to take revenge on Gabi despite his own grief and pain.

The series also showed that another answer to ending the cycle was through understanding. This was exemplified through Gabi’s character development. Prior to her arrival on Paradis, she thought that its inhabitants were devils that were beyond redemption. But after spending time with the Brauses, she became enlightened. Gabi eventually realized that she was wrong about her prejudices. And it was because of this realization that her hatred disappeared, and she asked for forgiveness.

Screenshot taken from Chapter 118 of the Shingeki no Kyojin manga.

----

Final Words: There are actually a lot more things that the series had touched upon. But I don't think that I can comprehensively cover all of them in this post. Hahaha. In any case, I still like AOT/SNK because overall, it is an epic tale full of action, mystery, intrigue, and most of all, valuable lessons and insights to ponder upon. I know that many fans feel that the ending ruined the series for them. And I understand why they feel that way. But personally, I think that many great things about it deserve to be appreciated. I know that not everyone will agree with me, but this is my take on it.

So, despite my disappointment and issues with Ch. 139, I still thank Isayama-sensei for giving us Attack on Titan/Shingeki no Kyojin. Thank you, Isayama! Shinzou Wo Sasageyo!

[utterlyinevitable]

If The World Was Ending Would You Love Somebody?

Paring: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Rebecca Lao) Word Count: 1.1k Warning: angst, like 2 curse words Summary: When crisis befalls Boston will the two ex-lovers put their fears aside?

Author’s Note: This one shot is inspired by Lauv’s “Love Somebody” and JP Saxe/Julia Michaels “If The World Was Ending”. I wrote this as part of @julychoiceschallenge​ Day 1 prompt “Hello” and @wackydrabbles​ prompt “I dare you”. They’ll be underlined and in bold. Enjoy! 

sorry for any mistakes i didn’t proofread or edit at all

Taglist:  @ohchoices​ @aylamwrites​ @binny1985​ @ramseysno1rookie​ @interobanginyourmom​ @queencarb​ @imactuallytheceoofthecompany​ @eramsey28​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @choicesficwriterscreations 

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A soft knock rapt on the outside of Becca’s ajar bedroom door. Hastily she ran to open it fully for her unexpected guest - the only people left in the apartment were her, Aurora and Jackie and those two women have a habit of letting themselves into Becca’s room when they see fit. 

“What’s u -” a cold air came over her as she saw him standing in front of her. “Hey,” she said coldly.  

Ethan’s right hand flew to rub the back of his neck, suddenly completely insecure with his decision to come see her, “Hello.”  

Neither said anything and Ethan took it as a hint to continue, “I - um… can we…” What was he doing here?  

“Why are you at my apartment,” she bit quickly. She sternly added as she pointed out the obvious, “We’re in the middle of an evacuation.”  

“I’m sorry,” he forced a sad smile, “We need to have a conversation.” 

“Ethan, we have two hours to get out of Boston. I can’t do this right now - I need to pack.”

Two bombs were found in the city - one downtown and one in the historical district. The Governor ordered a mandatory evacuation while officials worked to diffuse them - that was 3 hours ago and now there’s only 2 hours left before the city goes into lock-down. Once the patients of Edenbrook were bused out to various hospitals in Rhode Island and farther Massachusetts all doctors were dismissed to get their affairs in order. 

He offered a compromise, “You pack, I’ll talk.” 

Sighing, she let him into her room.

It had been months since Ethan was last here and yet it looked like no time had passed at all. Her desk chair was still covered in discarded jackets and that same old flower mug emptily sat at her bedside table.  

He stood in the entrance way and watched her move about her room throwing things into a suitcase. He had no idea where to start. 

“I - I’m sorry,” he blurted out. Rebecca’s eyes widened - never in all the weeks she spent obsessing over her failed relationship would she have imagined to hear the Ethan Ramsey admit he was wrong. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

She shrugged, focusing on folding a few pairs of jeans into the suitcase, “Whatever your intentions, it’s in the past.” 

Three months. That’s how long ago Dr. Rebecca Lao and Dr. Ethan Ramsey had ceased their romantic entanglements. It had been three months since they finally followed Ethan’s coveted ‘strictly professional’ workplace partnership. It had been three months since he completely decimated her heart. 

The next words fell off his lips, completely laced in earnest regret, “I’m sorry I held back and pushed you away.”

She didn’t say anything as she continued about her room, packing her essentials for the undetermined amount of time.

“I don’t know why I did it... Everything was so good between us and I threw it all away.” What the hell did I do?

Becca was trying her best to be indifferent towards the dejected man in front of her. It took her far longer than she’d care to admit to adopt a positive outlook on the deception. 

“We both knew you weren’t about forever and that’s fine,” she told him as if it were a statement written into law. “We weren’t meant for each other... It’s okay. I’m okay with it,” she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Ethan or herself with the latter.    

“I’m sorry,” he said once again. 

She rolled her eyes at the statement. Was that all he had to say? It’s far too late and those strings were severed.   

Ethan’s hand ran down his face as he whispered, “I - I - I’m no good at relationships. I’m sorry I put you through this.” 

Becca had heard enough. He’s been saying the same things over and over and nothing constructive is coming out of this intrusion of privacy during a goddamn crisis. Becca had no time or frankly any energy to run around in circles with him again. 

“Why are you here, Ethan?”

Why was Ethan practically on his knees in his ex-girlfriends flatshare? Immediately following from Edenbrook he packed a few keepsakes from his apartment and began the drive to his childhood home in Providence. He almost made it to the highway exit when he instinctively turned the car around and sped to Becca’s apartment.  

“I had to come here and see you.” Ethan finally moved from the threshold and closer to her. “We don’t know what’s going to happen… I was on my way out of the city and before I knew it I turned right back around…” She finally turned to meet his eyes which were completely fixated on her. “If something happened... I couldn’t live with myself if that’s how we ended things.”  

“It’s been months, E,” Becca let out a long breath. “My heart finally put itself back together. I finally stopped hurting. Why now?”  

His eyes were pleading with her, begging her to understand without needing to be said. 

She wasn’t going to let him off that easily. She wasn’t a yo-yo he could pull back to him whenever he pleased. If he had something to say he better come out and fucking say it.  

“I dare you to give me one good reason, Dr. Ramsey.” 

The ominous sky outside grew darker in their showdown - furious brown meeting stormy blue. The ticking clock was counting down - 90 minutes to go. 

89 minutes to go. 

88.30 minutes to go. 

“I love you,” Ethan practically yelled in complete desperation. The weight had finally lifted off his shoulders and he let out a content sigh with a smirk, “I never stopped loving you.” 

Becca remained unwavering. Still staring ferociously at the man in front of her. 

“Becca, say something.”  

She parted her lips and the words began falling out, “I hate you, Ethan. I hate you so much.” She closed the gap between them so only mere inches were left, poking him in the chest. “I hate how my first thought about the evacuation was if you’d be okay and hopefully had already left for Providence. I hate how you’re constantly in my head.” She threw her arms in the air. “After all this time I hate how you have such a hold over me.” Her chest started heaving as she tried to keep the storm at bay. Ethan’s eyes frantically searched her features - whites of her eyes turning red and glazing over, chest erratically rising and falling, nails digging into the palms of her hands. All the while she held his gaze. 

“What have you done to me?” she whispered somberly.  

And just like that the walls Becca carefully built back up came crumbling down. Tears started down her cheeks. 

Ethan reached for her, his thumbs wiping the wetness from her cheeks. 

“I hate seeing you cry,” he muttered, pulling them closer together.

[azure7539arts]

Sword

Pairing: Q/James Bond (00Q)

Prompt(s): Fantasy + Tradesman (for the AU prompt table)

Warning: None

Summary: Once upon a time, there was a prophecy of destruction and resurrection. But that would be a story for another time.

Or: Bond sought out a blacksmith for help. A duel ensued.

A/N: this was supposed to be a drabble... And here we are. Special thanks to @10kiaoi and @solarmorrigan because you two have been hearing me whine about this for days. I’m also very grateful to everyone who has given me words of praise and encouragement throughout my writing process! I hope you all enjoy this!

-

-

“Come back in a week, and pick out your champion.” His voice was deceptively soft for the ramrod iron spine behind those words. “Should your warrior prevail, I will consider giving you help.”

Suddenly, Bond felt his blood boil. “A week? Seclusion or not, surely you must be aware of the civil war that’s raging across the country even as we speak.” 

The blacksmith hummed, that blazing fire from the forge just off to the side casting a burning glow on his person. He seemed almost indifferent yet incredibly focused at the same time, and Bond didn’t understand—

“I’m highly aware. Just as much as I’m aware that you and your men have barely scraped through that last battle by the skin of your teeth.” Bond barely swallowed back an indignant hiss, battle-wearied and tormented. The sheer exhaustion and heavy casualty they’d suffered under the hands of the enemy were bleeding his patience dry. “Raging civil war or not, you can’t tell me you don’t need time to regroup. And I’m not so cruel as to strike you when you’re down in the mud and defenceless either.”

Bond’s hand tightened around the hilt of his broken sword.

And for the first time, the blacksmith smiled.

A sudden chill descended over the sweltering furnace heat of the workshop.

“One week from now at dawn break precise, Lord Bond of Skyfall. No more, no less.”

-

The promised day arrived overcast, windswept with the phantom stench of blood in the air, and the blacksmith stood a lone figure in the meadow, a sword seemingly too heavy held in the loose grip of his hand.

Whatever it was made out of, the blade shone like a bright beacon under this angle of light, pure and unblemished like fresh fallen snow, and Bond couldn’t keep his eyes off it.

“Are you serving as your own champion?” the blacksmith asked, his voice steady and slicing right through the hissing air currents. No pretense of pleasantries.

At least Bond could appreciate that.

Alec shifted warily behind him. He’d asked to fight in Bond’s stead before, many times over the course of last week, in fact, but Bond had turned him down every time. Not least because of the still healing gash in his side. 

Bond had come here to ask for a personal weapon, and a weapon he shall get for himself—through his own damn efforts and no one else’s. The troop’s eyes were on him, and he wouldn’t fail. Not right now.

Not like this.

“Yes,” Bond replied simply.

“Good.”

The fight began in an instant, absolutely without preamble, and by the time their weapons made impact with a loud screech of metal on metal, Bond could still hear the surprised cries of his men not too far away. He gritted his teeth and retaliated using brute force to thrust the blacksmith backward, the twang of that clash just now still traveling up his arm in an uncomfortable, numbing ache.

(He’d been skeptical at first, considering the near unbearable youthfulness that had been evident before his eyes, but now, Bond understood why this blacksmith was revered to be one of the legendary masters of the realm.)

Unsurprisingly, the man landed on his feet without trouble, already springing forth by the next breath drawn, and Bond flexed Alec’s borrowed sword, charging straight ahead also, never one to let himself fall into a state of disadvantage if he could help it.

From that point on, the fight progressed in an almost surreal manner.

The blacksmith engaged with a strange leisured fervor—languid but intense, razor sharp yet unhurried. It was as though he was watching—assessing—and the realization raised Bond’s hackles for the first time. He didn’t mind being watched; he’d grown up practically in the eyes of the public, but it was a different thing altogether when he couldn’t tell what he was being watched for.

At least the stormy depths of those cryptic eyes with their ever-changing colors didn’t seem to conceal any malicious intents. And Bond would know; he’d encountered too many backstabbers not to.

“James!”

Bond barely dodged the upward swing that had been close to slitting his throat clean open. Distantly, he wondered if he really had gotten lucky there, but whatever the answer was, the tip of the sword managed to nick him anyway, fresh blood spilling bright red and hot from the veins. He clutched at his neck with a sharp hiss now, eyes narrowed and chest slightly heaving with elevated breaths.

Annoyance flared a bright solar burst underneath the rapid beating of his heart, but Bond calmed down from the sole comfort that his challenger wasn’t doing too well, either. Bond smirked, all teeth and a little predatory.

He had landed a rather vicious kick himself, and judging from how the blacksmith was somewhat hunched over right then instead of reassuming his initial firm, unwavering stance, Bond must’ve caused a bit of damage, too.

Mutual points for both parties, so it would appear. 

Bond looked down to eye at those small indents that had started to chip off from the body of Alec’s once intact sword, and lowered his sticky hand.

“Let’s finish this.”

Despite the fact that the blacksmith’s techniques were a combination of oddities that Bond hadn’t really witnessed before, he still had his real-world experiences from being in and out of active combat for the last ten years or so. Still had all his knowledge from starting out on his courses for martial training twice longer. And Bond could see, with observation and a survival instinct honed through the countless storms of his youth, where the openings of his opponent lay.

That was more than enough.

Bond swung, then, with a turn of his arm, sharply twisted the motion upward. 

Alec’s blade fractured with a resounding clang, but in that singular moment in time, Bond couldn’t find it in himself to be concerned. He reached out and snatched the blacksmith’s flung sword from midair.

It settled into his palm a perfect, balanced weight.

“Impatient bastard,” came a whispered breath.

But Bond couldn’t quite hear it. The words, much like the subsequent clamoring of his men, morphed a jumbled mess in his ears as a whiplash of energy seized up the length of his arm in a shock of lightning from where he was gripping this sword. Glowing runes began materializing along its steel, and Bond sucked in a gulp of air through his teeth.

What felt like just a flawlessly crafted weapon a second ago now bore a sheer familiarity that rendered him incredulous. The sword felt right in his hand, as though itself a newly added extension of him, and its metal rang a vibration that burrowed deep like a blood covenant woven through his very flesh and bones, a humming song of satisfaction and protection.

When Bond realized to lift his head back up again, caught up in the tail end of a dizzying spell, it was to find both himself and the blacksmith encased in a ring of fire. From the looks of things, Alec and his troops were currently trying to find a way to get past the flames, with very little to no success.

The blacksmith stood before him, unbothered by the razing chaos all around, another smile tugging at the corner of his lips while specks of amber seared gilded brands of molten iron in the pools of those eyes.

He was far too calm. Too knowing.

“I won,” Bond said, voice low and unexpectedly hoarse.

“And the sword has chosen you as its first and final master.” He nodded, amused. “It was practically trying to leap out of my hand the second it tasted your blood.”

Bond frowned, storing away the casual implication that the sword—his sword—was at least partially sentient for later inspection.

He had more important matters to investigate at the moment.

“It’s yours to keep now. You can even give it a name—”

“Did you put a curse on this?”

The other man blinked, momentarily blindsided and flustered for the first time since they’d met. “What—A curse? Why would I do that?”

“Then, what is your play here, Battlemage?” Bond ground out, nearly spitting the word. “Posturing as a simple blacksmith.”

Said Battlemage stopped now, head tilting to the side, expression sharpening into a simmering stillness and lethality that sent a shiver up Bond’s spine. While Bond maintained that he was the one spearheading this interrogation, the immense presence of that unblinking stare still made him feel stripped bare and oddly vulnerable. Not unlike a pinned up specimen trapped under a cold and merciless gaze.

(He would quickly learn, after this, that he’d be better off not having this particular side of the battlemage directed at him and his men. For obvious safety reasons.)

“I didn’t posture as anything. I create weapons for my own pleasure,” he replied slowly. “I’ve never claimed to be a blacksmith, nor have I ever called myself one.”

Bond paused, mouth twisting. He recalled their last encounter, knew this to be true. Regardless, there were still too many questions left unanswered. And in a war of this calibre, he’d rather not needlessly risk his followers’ lives and well-being. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re trying to accomplish. Why are you doing this?”

“The opposition has taken to deploying sorcerers to decimate your troops and allies because your king has deprived his people of magic for so long, it’s now become a weakness to be exploited. By one of your very own.”

Such a blatant tone of derision jarred, and Bond clenched his jaws in an involuntary response. However, at the same time, only Alec had ever spoken to him in this kind of straightforward manner, but not really quite so, even then. Not quite like this.

“But you’re not your imbecilic king—you’re a pragmatic man. You understand that this situation requires a proper measure of counterattack,” the Battlemage carried on, that lilting quality to his speech belay the ripping knives behind every word. “I can be that counterattack.”

It was Bond’s turn to stare. To say that he was startled would be an understatement. True sorcerers were already few and far between, but actual battlemages were of a different breed altogether. 

Skilled in not just the arts of war and physical combat, they were also rumored to possess great enough magical capabilities to change even the tides of battles on the precipice of imminent defeat. The appearance of a battlemage had only been recorded throughout the known history for a handful of times, all of which were critical turning points that had marked either the end or the beginning of an era.

The most important thing? 

No side with the support of a battlemage had ever lost.

“Why?” Bond swallowed. Anyone else would call him a fool for being stubborn, for keeping on pressing. One shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth, and all that. But Bond didn’t do blind trust—he refused to. “We don’t know each other. There’s no reason for you to help me.”

The Battlemage looked a hair’s breadth away from rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Let me ask you this, then: what made you decide to seek out my help?”

“Because—” Briefly, Bond considered lying, but went against it in the end. “Because your reputation precedes you.”

The answer seemed to lend the Battlemage a gratified edge. “And the same goes for yours.” A fresh gust of wind blew, and Bond realized that the unnatural fire surrounding them was finally easing down to a manageable dwindle. “Besides, my weapons have never chosen wrong.”

The Battlemage extended a hand. “So, what do you say, O’ Lord Bond of Skyfall?”

His mind went blank, but somehow, Bond already knew what to do. As though right from the start, this had always been how it was meant to go.

Bond took the offered hand and felt the promised inevitability of it rest upon him undemanding, steadfast and strong.

He understood it now.

The outcome of the product would only ever be as good as the craftsman who created it.

“How should I address you?" he asked.

And the Battlemage smiled. "You can call me Q."

[somuchcolour]

WIP fic rec list

So I have a shit ton of important things to do so I was like, so what better time to make a WIP rec list of fics that are currently (hopefully) updating.

I know wips get a bad rap but I personally enjoy feeling like I’m in 1830s paris waiting for the next chapter of illusions perdues to drop. Also these authors are giving us sweet sweet entertainment and they deserve the hype. All stories deserve love no matter their completion status.

In no particular order:

A Brief History of Sex by Letzi

Never let it be said that Castiel Novak is not a passionate man. He doesn’t seem like he is at first glance, he’s willing to admit that. But what he does in life, everything that he does, in fact, in life, has been in the pursuit of passion.

He’s not sure how it landed him night after night sitting inside a cramped closet in a brothel’s bedroom, watching a prostitute get fucked from behind by one of her clients through a peephole, but that’s where he finds himself these days.

He has to make do with what he has.

--

ABO AU based on the TV Show Masters of Sex and the life and work of Virginia Johnson and William Masters, the pioneers of sex therapy.

A Priori by K_K_TiBal, whelvenwings   

Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak are headed to Hogwarts.

Castiel, as a member of the old Novak wizarding family, is fully expected to be sorted into Ravenclaw, like all of his ancestors before him. Dean, as a Muggle-born, has no idea what the Houses even are. With a surprise sorting and classes starting soon afterwards, they're both pitched headfirst into the unknown - and they find themselves in competition with each other almost at once, both of them needing to prove themselves to the people they left at home, and the people with them at Hogwarts.

Over the course of their seven years at Hogwarts, Dean and Cas learn what it means to prove yourself, what it takes to discover who you are, what it feels like to fall in love, and what it is they'll fight for - what matters most of all.

And Death Shall Have No Dominion by ForeverShippingJohnlock    

Castiel Novak is a zombie. Or rather, a "partially deceased syndrome sufferer." Treated and on medication, Castiel is deemed fit to return to living society. Whether society is ready to accept him or not is another matter entirely.

Dean Winchester is an active member of the Human Volunteer Force, a group determined to eliminate the undead. With his father as the leader of the HVF, Dean has spent years learning that PDS sufferers are scum, treated or not, and Dean wants nothing more than to make his dad proud.

Against all odds, the two boys form an unlikely friendship that makes Dean question everything he knows and believes, while Castiel thinks that maybe his second life isn't such a curse after all.

A story of love and loss, life and death, and everything in between.

Beyond Our Waking Eyes by abbythebollix    

Dean Winchester is troubled, Sam Winchester is growing up and Castiel Milton is too fucking hot for his own good.

Cupid's Fiery Shaft by ChasingRabbits               

When Gabriel Milton is forced into working on the school's annual Shakespeare play, he finds himself drawn to one person in particular--a techie named Sam Winchester.

While waiting on numerous universities to dictate the next major step in his life, Sam has been blowing off steam with his friend, lab partner, and (unknowingly) Gabriel's stepbrother, Castiel Novak.

Castiel Novak: a swimmer and one of the school's resident oddballs, who finds himself in a quandary upon meeting Sam's older brother, Dean.

Dean Winchester: gruff-voiced automechanic by day and culinary genius/MegaNerd by night, who might not be as heterosexual as he lets everybody believe.

If it sounds complicated, that's only because it is.

Now That's Comedy by CaptainMercy42     

Comedy. It's what Winchester's did. Winchester's, and about a million other dumb fucks with an iPhone and 140 character witticisms about their first world problems. It was not supposed to bug him when no-talent "wordsmiths" got highlighted in a bit on Ellen or Bob and Tom. But it did.

His dad, well he was great at it. It was dark comedy. It came from a dark place; the loss of a wife and the life of a morally bankrupt single dad, almost innocent in how thoroughly unprepared he was for fatherhood.  Substance abuse in itself provided jokes for days. The material actually outlasted his dear old dad. This surprised no one. What was surprising was Sam's decision to ditch college and do his own act, despite his lingering bitterness.

The first night Dean saw Sam perform was also the first night Dean saw Castiel perform.

Devil and the Deep Blue Sea by linoresearch   

The year is 1722 and across the oceans merchant ships are hounded by pirates. Killing and stealing their way to infamy, the Winchesters plague the trade-routes to the New World, leaving a trail of death and devastation across the Spanish Main. They are villains, and every ship that sails under the colours of the Royal Navy has been tasked with bringing them to justice; sentenced to hang by the neck until dead.

When the lookout of the navy frigate, the Lady Mary, calls ship-ahoy from the crow’s nest, first-mate Lieutenant Castiel Novak has no idea how his life is about to change. In a swash-buckling adventure across the high-seas, Castiel faces sea-monsters, ghost-ships, and much more, in the race to secure a valuable and dangerous prize. Thrown in among the pirates aboard the Black Impala, he also learns that Captain Dean Winchester can be hard to resist.

Number 1 Crush by Duckyboos                

Dean, Benny, Charlie, Garth, and Cas are old college buddies. In their thirties now, they meet up once a year to shed their adult responsibilities for a week. This year it's Garth's turn to choose where they go and he's still as obsessed with horror and weird shit as he was back in college. He ends up picking a supposedly deserted hotel in the friggin' mountains. The place is creepy as hell and as night falls, two things become increasingly apparent. One: the place isn’t as deserted as they first thought, and two: Dean’s college stalker is back from the dead.

Dial 'M' For Monster by Duckyboos    

By day, Dean Winchester bakes cupcakes. He owns his own bakery (Stairway to Leaven) and people come from all over state to try his delicious vegan red velvet. By night, he’s a fighter of supernatural evil.

Castiel Novak owns the small town's only motel (The Resting Place). He has a problem; he thinks rooms 6 & 11 are haunted.  It’s not like he can just look up a local ghost hunter in the phone book though, now is it?

Oh, he can? Sweet.

All The Other Places by Englandwouldfall                

As is usually the way with this crap, nothing is that simple. Part 4 of Beach House       

Shades of Mediocrity by Englandwouldfall               

Dean needs to rearrange his life all over again, regroup, restart and work out what the hell to do next.Castiel needs to learn where to channel his heart break, among other things.   Part 4 of Home            

The Taming of the Dudes by Englandwouldfall  

They've been doing this long enough and successfully enough that Dean kind of feels they shouldn't be arguing over something as serious as the mortgage. Part 5 of As you like it       

Two and a Half Sheets to the Wind by Englandwouldfall        

The whole point of working on a cruise ship was to escape everything, so the last thing he needs is to run into a guy who makes him a little too honest on the first day of a month long stint around Europe.

With Interest by everandanon     

In which sought-after bad boy Castiel Novak agrees to make awkward, nerdy sophomore Dean Winchester fall in love with him for a bet, and quickly finds himself in over his head — but by the time he realizes his mistake, it’s too little, too late . . .

Fast-forward 11 years, and as guilty as Cas still feels, he has bigger problems to deal with. Grieving his twin brother and struggling to provide the care his niece deserves, Cas finally sucks it up and moves back home in an effort to hold things together.

Of course, it's only a matter of time before he runs into Dean - Dean, who's all grown up and even more beautiful than Cas always suspected he'd be. Dean, who says he wants to be friends, and is clearly much better at a game Cas hasn't played since he broke Dean's heart.

Dean, who might not be the forgive-and-forget type, after all . . .

Quarantension by everandanon  

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.** *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Fortress by imogenbynight         

Five years ago, a malignant mass removed from John Winchester's temporal lobe left behind a quietly ticking bomb that nobody noticed until it decimated everything. Five years ago, John dragged Dean away from everything he'd ever known, hellbent on rescuing him from an imagined threat that felt more real to him than the blood on his hands. Five years ago, Castiel let Dean's hand slip through his fingers as he rescued Sam from what he'd thought was a more immediate threat.

For five years, Castiel has wondered if there was some way he could have saved Dean, too.

Now, with a phone call that he'd all but given up hoping for, Castiel has a chance to try again.

It's Kind of a Funny Story by deathsteel    

After an aborted suicide attempt lands Castiel Shurley in the hospital, he meets Dean Winchester, a charming damaged young man who is much more than first meets the eye.  Not being able to deal with the stress of growing up may have gotten him here and being hopelessly in love with his best friend's girlfriend probably didn't help, but Castiel soon learns that sometimes it takes  going a little crazy to find the path you were always meant to be on.

Loosely based on the movie/book by Ned Vizzini 'It's Kind of a Funny Story'.

Just A Schoolboy Crush by Zombiecat    

Castiel has a cliche crush on the highschool football all-star, Michael Ashton. Even though he's fully aware he's doomed to longing looks and pining in silence, it wouldn't be so bad if his best friend, Charlie, hadn't told Dean. Dean Winchester never seemed to miss a chance to get under his skin but for some reason he starts acting odd when he hears about Castiel's big secret.

God, Make Small by komodobits               

The last plane into McMurdo before the six-month winter brings a new face, an astronomer on transfer from one of the inland observatories. Truthfully, Dean doesn't know shit about neutrino particles; he's just the guy who gets paid to move the equipment from A to B and tries to keep it from getting broken and/or frozen solid. Castiel Novak's awkward, endearing smile is an additional bonus. However, the relentless blue night is brewing coldly for a storm, and it's starting to look like Dean and Castiel might be the only ones left out on the ice.\

Legacies by vanishingact    

Castiel Milton's uneventful life as a Massachusetts lawyer gets a little strange in the fall of 1887 when he is assigned to handle the late Henry Winchester's estate and his client's distractingly handsome grandson arrives to take up residence in the old manor house. As an unlikely friendship (with a side of pining) develops, the house slowly coughs up its secrets and reveals a whole world of trouble that Dean never knew his grandfather kept hidden.

The Game of God by seperis           

You can't win a war for humanity by sacrificing all of your own. Part 4 of Down to Agincourt        

Sequins and Spirals by euphemology  

Dean Winchester is a world-renowned figure skater who hails from the “good old U.S. of A.” He is well on his way to the 2014 Winter Olympics, but there’s one small problem: so is his arch-rival, Polish skater Castiel Novak. Competition is definitely not going to be easy, but it gets even harder when the two men get assigned to the same room in the Olympic Village.

Show Me How To Love by universalromance    

A new family of kids at Lawrence High School brings a new perspective to Dean's life, especially when he becomes inexplicably drawn to the youngest of the siblings, a severely autistic boy who has never spoken or touched anybody in his entire life. Rating will possibly go up later. Possibly upsetting psychological subject matter.

The Process by Soupernabturel           

“Dean, hands to yourself please.”

The man in question straightens up in his chair, turns his flirty smile from the man two seats from him and onto officer Novak. “Sorry, Cas.”

“Cas?” Hannah asks.

“We get some regulars. They come to know a few of the officers, the patrol officers, especially.” Novak explains, the look on his face, almost slightly bored, slips a little. “As you know, I’m usually the one monitoring the Strip.”

 Police!Officer Cas is being filmed at work (A-la: Jail Las Vegas) for a reality TV show. Meanwhile Dean is a sex worker, not only familiar with the Strip’s booking process, but with a certain blue-eyed officer.

Start With a Name by cumberbellins, frickenapplepie (cumberbellins)    

Waking up in a stranger's living room with a blue eyed man staring down at you isn't the most pleasant experience ever. Dean Winchester can tell you that. Another thing Dean Winchester can tell you is that whenever you have to break into your brother's apartment, you should make sure that you got the right window.

starving in your gravity by alullabytoleaveby   

Dean has enough on his plate. Really.

There's his job as a paramedic for the local hospital and, while he loves it, loves getting to help people, the hours are long and the pay leaves much to be desired. There's his definitely-not-a-relationship with Castiel, the hot ER doctor, where's he's completely out of his depth emotionally. And then there's his brother, who's just dropped out of law school and has no idea what he's going to do now.

So what he definitely does not need is his alcoholic deadbeat dad stumbling back into his life.

Make Damn Sure by SurlyCat      

Dean Winchester is not thrilled about taking an office job at one the most powerful media corporations in the country. His work has always been hands on, but when Charlie tells him about the job opening and its comfortable salary, the temptation is just too great to turn down. And really, it wouldn't be too bad if it weren't for the blue-eyed man that also works there.

Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester have crossed paths far too often over the last 12 years, with an unsavory outcome nearly every time. This time though, walking away is just not an option as they're forced to collaborate on a project and learn to navigate each other like civilized human beings. For Dean and Cas though, nothing ever goes quite according to plan.

...In Bed by SurlyCat                

Dean Winchester and Castiel Milton met on a rainy summer day over a broken down car. Even though Castiel is nosy and seems to have no filter, Dean still finds himself drawn to the man. Over time they become friends, and over time, Dean falls for Cas, certain that Cas is uninterested. What Dean doesn't know is that his friend hasn't always been quite so tame, and Cas is careful to keep it that way. Who would've thought that a fortune cookie and a childish game would be responsible for bringing out the truth?

Tag, You're It! by Kitmistry   

Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met.

Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel.

With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Part 2 of The H Files       

The Supernatural Edification of Dean Winchester by OverlordoftheBees   

Based on TV Series “Afterlife”. Professor Castiel Novak (MA Berkeley, PhD Harvard) is an academic who has staked his credibility upon his ability to decompress and deconstruct the mythology surrounding mediums, clairvoyants and all things "new age spiritualist". That is, until a routine trip with a graduate class brings him into contact with medium Dean Winchester: uniquely gifted, supremely abrasive and desperate for a way out. When Dean touches on the tragedy marring Castiel’s past, his neatly constructed worldview is decimated. There is only a veil between life and death, as both well know. And as Castiel finds himself increasingly drawn to Dean, the fragility of that barrier is strained to its limit.

These Are the Nights by vintagenoise         

After a sudden tragedy, Castiel Milton and Dean Winchester reflect back on their youth in the beachside town of Sileas, Oregon, and all the lessons they learned on the path that led them to each other.In the Winter of 2008, Castiel visits his boyfriend, Dean, for Christmas. Despite all the big issues he and Dean have dealt with in the past, they've never had the chance to sort through the little things. Castiel is sure that their plans, from embarking on a road trip together, to spending time with the Winchesters, can only be good for their relationship. There's just one little problem that needs to finally be confronted: sex, and Castiel's difficulty with it.In the Summer of 2009, Dean and Sam visit their estranged father and his new family, who reluctantly allow Castiel to visit through Independence Day. All Dean wants is for his family and his boyfriend to get along, but between John's struggle to accept his son's sexuality, and his wife Kate's strange attitude towards Castiel, he's not sure he'll be able to make it work. Part 7 of Young Volcanoes