#thus i am delivering

[beastologist]

↪ 911 on ABC, 7.09 “Ashes, Ashes”

[deadqueernoldor]

Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.

I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.

And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.

If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.

I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[quinloki]

Birthday Request Event

"It's my birthday and I'll write what I want to \o/"

Gift Details ♥ Reader: Cis-fem!sub Reader Character: Donquixote Doflamingo Kink: #15 Bratty Reader #17 Degradation/Humiliation Prompt: #20 "Kiss me like you missed me." Gift Giver: @thus-spoke-lo

Summary: Doflamingo up and left you without and word, and upon his return home expects you to kiss him like you missed him. Instead, you snub him, and storm off to your room. Only to have the king of the castle storm in behind you.

Content Notes: degradation, dirty pet names, attitude from the reader and Doffy, string bondage, rough oral sex, edging

This birthday party is 18+, consensual unless explicitly stated otherwise, and BYOB

The large hand almost engulfs your face, forcing you to look at him. You can see the vein in his forehead throbbing, despite the wide grin on his face. He’s not amused at all, and frankly, you didn’t want him to be. You were mad.

He had left without a word. For days. You didn’t even get a single word from him over transponder snail and had to find out he was gone on business from fucking Trebol of all people. Which meant you didn’t just get a simple report, you had to humor him for nearly an hour, and he would not stop talking.

Nothing against Trebol, but you hadn’t been in any sort of humoring mood when you’d learned your one and only had just up and ghosted without a single word.

Upon his return Doffy had explained to you that the business at hand had been severely urgent, and that he had been well and truly indisposed during the time he was gone. He wasn’t one who was overly interested in explaining himself, in any capacity, so the fact that he went that far should have been enough.

Normally, it would be.

But normally he didn’t leave you for days at a time without so much as an assurance that he wasn’t dead somewhere.

Implying that someone could take him down had been the wrong choice of words on your part, and now here you were. Face held, and an angry lover in front of you.

Your brows knit, anger welling up in you in return, and you pull your face away, batting his hand aside. You’re painfully aware of the fact that he allowed both actions. He’s always allowed you a level of bodily autonomy he didn’t have to, given his strength and position.

“I was worried. You’re dealing with all manner of people and who knows what lucky bastard fate’s set against you?” You grumble, crossing your arms and turning away. “I did miss you, but – ah!” You feel the strings over take you, binding your body, and forcing your arms behind your back in practice movements.

“Doffy! Let me-aaahhhhmm-shit.” You struggle at first, but his tongue against your neck, and his hand down your pants was too much all at once. He’s persistent, but gentle, and the gentleness is raising your temperature and addling your brain as he deftly teases your clit.

You can hear his laugh flutter against your skin as his voice threads through your ear. “My, my, you’re already soaking wet. My little whore wants to talk back to me? After I already gave her more than she deserved by explaining myself?

“It seems my favorite brat needs a lesson in manners.” He growls, a thick finger sliding into your mouth and pressing against your tongue before you can say anything in protest.

One of the biggest reasons that Doflamingo was able to manipulate you, had almost nothing to do with the fact that he was incredibly good at manipulating people. It was because you were weak to being bound, used, and pump full of either pleasure or pain. Your connection ran deeper than merely shared twisted carnal desires, but you were certain his reaction to your sass was because he had missed you too.

In more ways than one.

And this would handle two issues at once.

You could hear the sloppy wet sounds from your mouth and your thighs, the heat building in your core as you couldn’t hope to squirm away. Your breath was hot and coming out in huffs around his finger and you shiver in the threads around you as the pleasure was making your legs shake.

“ ‘Offy, ‘lease.” You mumble around his finger.

“Mmm, no.” He answers, finger leaving your clit just as you were certain you were going to cum. He cleans his finger off by wiping it on your shirt before he rips the garment away from you. Threads slip between you and the rest of your clothes, ripping them to pieces and leaving the tattered bits to hang from the other threads that held you.

“Not a word.” He growls, taking his finger out of your mouth and walking away. You can hear the shift of cloth from behind you. You aren’t surprised when his strings move you, to see him seated on the edge of your bed, nothing on except his feather coat.

He brings you between his knees, his hand pushing your head to his semi-hard cock. “Welcome me home.” He commands.

You’re already on thin ice, but you’re also still irritated with him, so you give his shaft a few licks and a kiss before you look up at him and stick your tongue out. The devilish grin on his face doesn’t have the throbbing vein to go with it and he laughs.

“I do love that about you,” he admits, grabbing your hair roughly and shoving himself into your mouth. “But it was not a request, my love.”

You do your best to adjust quickly to the assault. His dry cock stuck to your lips a few times until you were able to get everything nice and wet. The discomfort gave way to a more comfortable set up, and Doffy let go of his grip on your hair as you began to suck and lick him properly on your own.

“Much better.” He muses, shifting his hips every now and then to drive himself a little deeper into your throat. “That’s how you greet me properly, slut. I was too kind to request a simple kiss, it seems.”

You lean back to say something, but before you can even squeak, his hand is in your hair again, pushing you back down.

“I said, ‘not a word’, and I meant it, my sweet bird.” He hums, shoving his hard cock down your throat until you’re gagging and crying from the actions. He moves in long enough strokes to allow you to breathe, even giving you a moment to cough and sputter a few times before continuing. He never allows you enough time to speak, and after a few moments he pushes almost painfully deep, forcing your nose into his pubes and forcing stars across your vision.

He pulls out to you sputtering and coughing, tears and snot and drool sliding down your face before he adds his cum to the mess. He smears the mess around your face and down to your chest, pinching your nipples roughly and forcing a yelp from you before he stops.

“Speak, brat, what do you say?” He asks, leaning back and glaring down at you.

“Th-thank you, sir.” You gasp, coughing once more to clear your throat. “Wel… welcome home.” You add quietly, heat flushing through your body.

Strings lift you up, forcing you to straddle his large waist, spreading your legs wide. You can feel his dick twitching against your slit.

“Better,” he muses, pulling a larger scrap of your ruined clothes free and using it to clean up your face. “Now, my sweet little bird, prove you missed me and kiss me accordingly.” He commands.

You can feel some of the threads go slack and you’re able to move your arms again. You reach out, cupping his face in your hands and bringing the two of you together.

“I missed you, Doffy, you bastard.” You say with a genuine smile, closing the small distance between you and kissing him. Softly at first, peppering him with a few brief kisses before parting your lips and urging him to devour you in return.

He held you in place, kissing you sweetly, as you felt the tip of his hard cock prodding your slick folds, pushing slowly into your pussy. You gasped and moaned into the kiss, welcoming the dangerously thick intrusion that promised to properly apologize to you for his extended absence.

Check out the event - requests are accepted until 7/31/2023 EST

[cammelcase]

Catch me at love island so we can graft our forms to become beyond human.

[nickbutnodick]

i want a binder so bad im on the verge of breaking TWO of my security rules for this shit i mean come ON why can't this be EASIER

[emdotcom]

They forgot to schedule a manager.

They did schedule somebody else, but she isn't on the schedule, & she never responded to the text informing her she was working, today.

The next person designated to show up is set to show up in 2 minutes, but is somebody who is chronically 3 hours late (unfired)(they want to make this guy a manager).

I was supposed to leave.

An hour & a half agooooo!!!!!!

[bludraws094]

ykw im bored im gonna sing tme from memory in the tags

i memorized it probably at least over a year ago, idk i have no concept of Time

[alxclaremont]

many thinky thoughts are being thinky thunk

[sassy-cass-16]

look man. look

essek saying "bren" out loud, claiming a position on caleb's side as the mouthpiece of his regards to astrid, did something to me. i can't tell if it opened a wound or punched me or gave me a hug. all i know is that i am feeling so many emotions right now

more under the cut because i'm about to get rambly:

"bren aldric ermendrud" is a separate character from caleb widogast. he's a young boy learning how to make magic. he's a deeply traumatized and indoctrinated teenager. he's the boy who curled up with astrid and eadwulf in a freezing tower for warmth all night.

essek never met bren. he met caleb and he's never known him as anyone else. if i'm remembering correctly, caleb never even said the name "bren" to him during the campaign, and neither did any of the nein.

essek knows caleb widogast. he knows the man who held up the object of his worst crime and then kissed him in the bowels of a ship and made a floor of infinite stars for them to walk through together. he knows the person who healed over bren's wounds—thinly, but enough. he knows the man that the boy has become.

astrid knows bren. she barely knows who caleb is. she still calls him bren after hearing him referred to as caleb repeatedly. she can't know him as the man he is, she only knows the boy. there's some of bren in caleb, but there is no caleb in bren.

essek saying "bren sends his regards" is him gauging astrid's reaction, on one level—if she freaks out, which she did, she's in opposition to caleb's cause and thus a threat. on another level, it's essek delivering a very different subtextual message from caleb: "the boy who loved you is giving you one final warning."

because essek is a threat to astrid. their last meaningful interaction was slinging spells at each other in the blooming grove. and that's funny in a "current boyfriend vs ex girlfriend exclusively fight each other" kind of way, but it's also deeply tied to caleb's recurring theme of transformation. "bren sends his regards" also means "i have healed enough to love enough for someone else to know this name and use it with my consent. and this someone else is your enemy. what does that make you think i've become?"

it also does a fantastic job of communicating subtle offscreen discussions that have happened over the years since the end of c2. we don't have the details of when or how caleb told essek his birth name, but we know that he did, and we know from all of c2 that the name bren occupies a place of immense emotional weight for caleb. it functions similarly to a deadname in terms of who uses it and for what purpose. trent exclusively calls caleb bren to wound him and place himself in a position of power. astrid calls him bren to remind both him and herself of who they used to be—same with eadwulf, though obviously he's not here.

the first time we hear essek say "bren" is on caleb's behalf and confronting one of the narrative representations of caleb's trauma. it's four words that manage to communicate "i, your enemy on a hundred levels, can speak for both the man i love and the boy who loved you, because i know him in his entirety."

astrid knows bren and essek knows caleb, but only essek can speak for both. because at some point, caleb gave bren to essek. and we know this from four words. four IMPROVISED words.

god. this moment is just so fucking good

[never-quite-buried]

So i have to hire a personal injury attorney. Turns out another driver was attacked at the same house i was attacked at last night and my dad found out that there have been even *more* incidents as he knows 2 families on that block.

I am in so much pain. Ive slept maybe a quantitive 3 hours all day cause i keep waking up from nightmares.

[bonyfish]

HOT N' FRESH COMMISSIONS

Hello friends it is me your pal Livali. As you may know (or may have intuited from the above masterpiece), my day job consists of delivering (mostly) food items to people in my small city via one of those vaguely predatory and largely unregulated gig delivery services. The thing about my town is that during the summer, the college students leave and the town's population--and thus the number of people ordering delivery--decreases by half. This makes it rather hard to make a living.

So anyway I am open for art commissions!

Here are some samples of my work:

More samples, prices, and info are available at my website here!

(I would still love to draw your characters kissing.)

[thought--bubble]

Things We Cannot Change

Dark Aemond X (Strong Niece Reader)

Warnings Below

Word Count: 1,938

Aemond (Canon Era) Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Banners & Dividers by @arcielee

Based on THIS request

Warnings:: Reader's hair is brown. That's the only descriptor due to the request received, Breeding kink, Targcest, Virginity Loss. Mental abuse, mentions of character deaths.

On your knees.

A place you thought you would never be, but alas here you are. On your knees looking up at the cold, cruel face of your uncle.

Once a boy you played with, read with, considered a friend. Now, he holds the life of your youngest brother in his hands. The only member of your family you have left.

"I ask you, Aemond-" He interrupts you with a cruel chuckle.

"King Aemond, my dear"

You cringe at the title. The war that ravaged both of your families put him on that throne. The thought of all you had lost made you sick.

"I ask you, your grace, to please spare my brother and I. There are so few of valyrian blood left." You keep your head bowed, your knees aching against the cold stone beneath them.

The both of you go quiet, you could still smell your mothers burning flesh, hear her screams as she was scorched and eaten alive in front of your very eyes. All for nothing, you thought. Your entire family is dead for Aemond to be the one to ascend the throne.

Your mother had been executed immediately, no court, no trial, just a woman and a dragon. Aegon II had demanded that you be executed as well, but luckily for you, he did not survive the trip back to the capital. Thus, your younger brother and you had been delivered to Aemond as traitors.

Followers of the false queen is what Aegon II had called you. Worthy of a public execution.

"On that front, we can agree bastard" He places his fingers delicately under your chin and tilts your face up towards him.

"I fear that dragon riders may become a thing that history boasts about if we are not careful in our decisions." He rubs his thumb gently across your bottom lip.

"So you and I shall marry, to preserve the bloodline," you audibly gasp at the absurd statement. You were now a mere strong bastard not fit to be queen.

"B-but your grace, I have been stripped of all royal titles. Surely I am not worthy to marry the King"

"You are not." he says curtly."But, preserving our dragon blood is of higher importance than that of courtly titles." He removes his hand from your chin and steps back, clasping his hands behind his back.

"The choice is yours, dear niece. Marry me or face the blade. If not to breed you, I have no further use of you."

You gulp audibly as your eyes begin to well. "I shall serve my duty to the realm your grace."

The betrothal was announced to the realm with mixed reactions. Some houses understand the reasoning others are very upset that a bastard would be queen and not one of their highborn daughters.

All concerns fell upon deaf ears because Aemond knew what he wanted, and he wanted you. As king, he would have exactly what he wanted.

Your life changed very little after the announcement of the betrothal. You were given chambers instead of being in the dungeons, but you were not trusted.

You were escorted everywhere you went, and the incoming title of Queen did little to garner you any respect.

Everyone knew what you were. A vessel to breed valyrian blooded babies and nothing more.

What was worse was the embarrassment.

Aemond made sure to embarrass you at any opportunity. He would have you serve him at meal times instead of servants. Pull his bath for him. Even perform his ridiculous hair care routine. All of it meant to demean you.

You had hoped that after the wedding, he would stop this disgusting showcase and allow you at least a modicum of comfort, but even in that thought, you were mistaken.

After the two of you had been escorted to your marriage chambers and left alone, Aemond ordered you to pour his wine and stand in the corner. Once again, as if you were a servant and the treatment had finally become too much for you to bare.

"I'll take the sword," you say after moments of silence have fallen between you.

"Pardon?" Aemond lifts an eyebrow and looks up at you.

"I will take the sword, i do not wish to live this way for years and years." You stand with conviction. "I ask only that you spare Aegon so that he might have children in the future."

Aemond chuckles and sips his wine. "The offer has expired, dear wife. You are mine now, to toy with as I please."

"I was kind to you!" The words almost echo throughout the room. The connotation is clear.

"You were." He simply nods and continues to look into your eyes, no clear expression on his face.

"Then why do you treat me like this? Like a-" You search your mind for the words but come up empty.

"Like a traitor? Because you are a traitor. You knew the laws of the world in which you live. You did not at any time attempt to talk my dear sister out of war, did you?" He stands up from his chair and stalks towards you.

"My sister Helaena took her own life, my nephews murdered in the cruelest of fashions." His breath is heavy as he glares at you with his one eye. "You were complicit in their deaths. How should i treat you?"

"As if I lost nothing? You killed Luke. You weren't complicit in it. You did it with your own hand!" You can feel your rage bubbling up in your chest and try to suppress it to no avail.

"You killed Rhaenys and Daemon. There is far more dragon blood on your hands than mine. " You regret the words as soon as you say them, expecting his wrath to be swift and harsh.

He clicks his tongue and looks away from you. "That may be true, but there will not be anymore dragon blood spilled by me. Least of all yours."

He walks toward you but stops when he sees you backing away from him and sighs. "There are things we can not change. The war. The losses we suffered." He continues to advance on you but moves much more slowly.

"Although I believe I can change this, your fear of me."

"I am not afraid." You attempt to sound convincing, yet the shake to your voice gives you away.

"Let me try," He says gently as he gets close enough to cup your face. "This needn't be a marriage filled with fear and hate. We are all that is left of the house of the dragon. Let us rebuild, together"

Your heart cramps in your chest at his words and soft demeanor. This is the Aemond you remember. The boy who was always gentle with you, kind. Not the monster who murdered your brother and countless others in a ruthless pursuit for the throne.

"I have known fear. I do not wish to spend the remainder of my days being the cause of yours." He presses his forehead to yours and kisses the tip of your nose.

"Will you stop? The public shaming?" A tear trickles down your cheek at the thought of continuing to live in this manner. The abuses mounting, the shame unbearable.

"Yes. twill not happen again." He takes your face in his hands and lifts until your eyes meet. "This i swear."

He gently kisses your cheek where the tears have started to fall.

"We have all shed enough tears for a thousand lifetimes." He wipes a tear from your other cheek with his thumbs. "No more."

He pulls you close to his chest, gently swaying from side to side. "Shhh." He tries to comfort you as he strokes your hair.

He very softly brings his lips to yours and whispers. "Let me be more than the monster, I implore you."

You press your lips to him in desperation. Do you love him? No.

Will you ever truly trust or forgive him? Most likely not, but you want to feel something. Anything other than the dull ache that you have carried in your chest since the day Luke died.

If Aemond was aware of your true feelings, he did not let on. He reciprocated your neediness with hungry kisses of his own before lifting you and carrying you over to the bed chamber.

"I always wanted you to be my wife," He admits between kisses. "Always"

You choose not to respond, instead pulling at his clothes. He drops you down onto the bed and rucks up your skirts. Pulling your small clothes down quickly.

"Close your eyes," He whispers huskily, kissing up your inner thigh. You comply with his demands, closing your eyes and turning your mind off. Surrendering entirely to the physical sensations you are experiencing.

He brings his hand to your heat, pushing you open before bringing his tongue down upon you. The feeling is overwhelming at first, and you can't help but cry out.

He tightly grips your thigh as he nudges his nose against your clit, running his tongue along your tight entrance. Never before have you felt something like this and as if your body is controlled by an invisible force your hips buck up towards his face.

He chuckles and grips your hips, holding you in place. "Patience my love, patience" He circles your clit with his tongue, the gentle flicking driving you to near madness.

"Oh gods," you bite your bottom lip as an unfamiliar pressure builds up in your lower stomach. "Aemond!" You clench at the bedsheets beneath you, the breath tight in your lungs as a searing fire moves throughout your entire being.

"Gods!" You arch your back as the feeling hits a peak before dropping back on the bed, your breath coming out in short huffs.

Aemond chuckles as he removes his breeches his hard cock slapping against his stomach. "Im going to fill you with my babes and everything will be better."

He moves on top of you prodding your entrance with the tip of his cock. "Hold onto me, this may hurt for just a moment" He warns, gentleness in his voice.

You head his warning, wrapping your hands around his back, as he begins to push into you, the stretch painful, not excruciatingly so but shocking nonetheless.

"eeeek," you can't help the slight screech that escapes your throat.

"Shhhh, it is alright." He comforts while he continues pushing into you until his hips meet yours.

"Are you alright?" He asks, his breathing labored.

You are ok. The pain, the fullness. It is something, and after so long of feeling nothing, the something, even if it is pain, is relieving.

He thrusts his hips against you, steadily increasing his pace. "You will be with child soon. We will be happy then, " He huffs.

You close your eyes and hold his head to you as he buries his face in your neck gently kissing at the sensitive skin there, and for the first time since the war began you feel calm.

His grip on you tightens as he buries himself to the hilt in you again. "We will be happy. we will" he grunts into your ear as the pressure once again builds up in your lower stomach.

As the two of you reach your peaks together, trembling and smiling you allow yourself to believe.

Even if just for a moment. That he is right. He is telling the truth.

That even after so much death and loss, the house of the dragon can stand tall and be happy once again.

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[moth-yknowtheartist]

I may be going out on a limb I may be wrong but I am taking the firm stance Concupiscence "Connie" McNasty is NOT just the substitute's name that is 100% the professor's full legal name and I'll tell you why

1. Shane Madej, when delivering the package, read halfway through the name and went "Oh, Connie" and turned to the substitute in recognition. Shane Madej, via his estranged producer status, seemingly does not know that the substitute is a hologram like he has thus far regarded the substitute as if he is 100% the living normal professor back under strange circumstances. The professor is canonically on Shane's payroll Shane KNOWS his real name Shane has seen his SOCIAL SECURITY NUMBER if "Concupiscence" was completely different from that name there would be way more visible confusion

2. The substitute did not, inbetween careful planning to peel a guy and obtain a genie lamp, name himself fucking Lust McNasty

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 5

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you’re not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

He’s still there when you return to your desk. Just like the ring on your finger, Loki is immoveable. Your knuckle hurts from trying to yank it off.

You sit at your desk and try to ignore him as he stares from one of the acrylic chairs across from you. They’re rarely used, more so for the illusion of accommodation than anything. 

His gaze casts a blazing heat over you. Your focus is fractured by his unyielding observation. He hums, a taunting tune, as you type and pretend to be alright. You’re not. You’re far from it. 

That sinking doom is muddled in a sludge of disbelief. You just can’t accept this is real and yet hat pit in your chest assures you otherwise. How did he do this? Thor always says his brother is a trickster and you know well of Loki’s unsavoury past, as most New Yorkers would, and yet, this is nothing you could ever predict. 

“What is it you mortals call it?” He speaks at last, jarring you from your troubled trance. “A honeymoon? Would you like to go away, darling? I know this place on the other side of the moon. Your moon, that is... it’s not too derelict and the sky is rather romantic--” 

“Stop,” you splay your fingers over the keyboard. “I’m working.” 

“Mm, yes, you’ve some time to go...” he checks the watch on his wrist. “What are we at? Less than two hours. I must admit, I am counting the minutes.” 

You stand and take a deep breath, “I need a tea.” 

You twist on your heel and march away. You doubt caffeine is going to help your nerves. It’s more that the flavour is familiar enough to offer some shred of comfort.  

As you enter the breakroom, he’s already there. You hate that. How does he do that? You glance over your shoulder then turn back to the room. 

“What is it you prefer?” He peruses the selection of pods. “Mm, pumpkin spice?” He takes a pod and sniffs it, “smells less than appetizing.” 

“I can do it myself,” you approach him and reach for the box of oolong pods. He catches your hand and runs his thumb decisively over the large emerald. You wince as he keeps hold of you. 

“Darling, I am your husband. Allow me to show you the advantage of this union--” 

“I know why you did it. You get to stay. I never wanted you gone, I only delivered the message. You don’t have to do this. If you want to stay, I’ll lie but this is... it isn’t necessary.” You tug but cannot free yourself of his snare. 

“While that may suffice, I don’t have much faith in your skills of deception. I have considered all facets of this plan and we must prove this union to be genuine, thus we may as well commit--” 

“Loki,” you hiss and his brow arches. “Prince, whatever, this is strange. In your research did you not figure out that ‘mortals’ as you call us get to know each other first?” 

“Not always. Not for the majority of your history. There are some rather entertaining scenes along the way. Some I had the pleasure of witnessing myself,” he snickers. “An arranged marriage is not unheard of, even presently in some regions. I could not wait to charm you but I can more than make up for that.” 

“Charm me? You couldn’t even ask me? Talk to me?” 

“We are speaking now. We are working through our first marital hurdle. Together,” his grin assures you that he is being less than authentic. This is a game to him. “Allow me to prepare your tea, wife. You are hard at work.” 

You scrunch up your nose in frustration and he lets you go as you pull away, “why me??” 

His lashes flick up and down as his lips curve deeper, “when you say my name, I imagine you moaning it, and it doesn’t sound so bad.” 

You gurgle. Your stomach knots and tugs. Something inside you plucks. You step back and hug yourself, as if hiding from him. 

“Uh, I...” you look away and shake your head. “You’re right. I’m working so I would appreciate the tea. Thank you. Just milk, if you don’t mind. Please. Er.” You wobble around on your heels. The slither of his voice sticks in your ears and you smell smoke. What is happening? 

You go back to your desk and sit heavily. You stare at the screen as it hazes to a medley of colours. The font obscures in your distant vision and fold your hands on the edge of your desk. 

This is very strange. This is hard to swallow. It’s not what you had planned for today. Or really ever. Not just marrying Loki but anyone. You’re perfectly happy alone. You’ve built a small life for yourself. It’s not that bad. You like the routine and the simplicity and now he’s gone and messed it all up. 

“Darling,” he purrs as he appears with your tea, jarring you from your gloom.  

You sit back and bite down on your tongue. He sets the cup on your coaster, coming close enough that you roll back in your chair. As he stands straight, you rest your elbows on the armrests. 

“You don’t have to pretend to be nice now. You’ve already messed it all up.” 

He laughs again. You hate that. He thinks everything is so funny. This is your life. 

“Messed what up, exactly? I know a Midgardian’s life cycle, I’ve lived through many and so by my estimate, you are overdue for marriage--” 

“That isn’t-- oh my god,” you drag your hands down your face. You drop them into your lap and look at him. “When I told you, you were angry. You looked at me like you hated me. So, how do you think this is going to work?” 

“Hate is powerful but there are things that can overwhelm it,” he shrugs. “I do enjoy the way your legs look when you walk in those shoes and your skirt compliments you well. Now, I know you do not hate me, I can read others rather well. You are intimidated yes, but fear can also make one...how should I put this, sexually aroused?” 

“Oh god. Please,” you wheel back to your desk and shield one side of your face with your hand. “That’s not—Like I said, we can pretend.” 

“This marriage is very much real, darling,” he intones. 

“No.” 

“Yes.” 

“No.” 

“Yes, it is--” 

“Lokiiiiii,” you growl and pop your head up to snarl at him. 

He smirks and tilts his head, “ooh, say it again.” 

“Stop, please.” 

He chortles and his eyes flare. You don’t like the way they glint, “darling, your dear husband brewed you a tea, please, do not let it grow cold.” 

You sigh and look down at the cup. You raise it and blow the steam away. You sip. It’s rather nice, richer than you would expect. In fact, it’s so good you can’t stop drinking. You’ve had that oolong a dozen times over and you’ve told Tony to get a different brand as it is far from your favourite, but today, it is like honey. 

You wipe your lips at the dribble left behind and set down the cup. Loki resumes his seat by the wall, “hmm, just over an hour to go, darling.” 

[jayrockin]

Oh I also have a less important scud question r.e. reproduction just because I'm not sure I fully understand the genetics there. Like I know how plants do it, I'm a full on botanist, so alternation of generations I get but like…so the haploid generation have two sexes which mate and I guess there's where chiasmata happens, but then one of those (the arguably female one) goes off and fertilises haploid eggs in the diploids?

Only way I can reconcile it is that the female haploids receive gametes from the male haploids, which combine to form a diploid zygote that subsequently undergoes mitosis and meiosis into new (haploid) gametes containing a random mix of genes from both haploid parents, which are then used to fertilise the haploid eggs of the diploid parent. Which also means that the male haploid stage are male, but the female haploid stage are sequentially female and then male in function.

Or, arguably, they've actually got three alternating generations involved, like whatever's going on with red algae on our world. With a second, highly reduced, diploid gen that exists only temporarily to enable the shuffling of genes from two haploid parents into new haploid gametes, that are delivered by the female haploid parents.

Sorry I had to make a diagram to explain what I mean. Does this make sense or am I missing something and have charged off down a completely inane path?

I have a PhD in ecology and genetics and I just realised I drew all those chromosomes duplicated like they're ready for mitosis or meiosis 🙃

I dislike this version but it's more accurate

Yeah that's basically it! Every scud has three parents, and the largest genetic donor is the egg-laying sex. Red algae were actually a major inspiration for this because I love their horrible convoluted lifecycle. Rhodophytes likely evolved it as compensation for losing sperm flagella (and thus, the ability to move their sperm). Maybe the same thing happened to the early ancestors of the "arthropodal" clade that scuds belong to.