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divine-knight-hand · 3 months

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Live to Serve

Loki Masterlist || Full Masterlist || Read on AO3

Pairing: Female-Presenting Queen!Loki Laufeyson (or, more like Laufeydottir) x Female Einherjar Soldier!Reader

Summary: After a promotion celebration in honor of your latest act of service to Asgard, you request a new way to be of service to your beloved queen.

Content Warnings: Assisted stripping, unusual pet names (I guess?), slight praise, Loki being a little tease, thighriding, brief mention of marking (hickeys, and the like), cunnilingus, facesitting

…Also, I can’t tell if there's any dom/sub dynamic here. I blacked out and suddenly they had, like, this back-and-forth thing. So, be on the lookout for that. 😅

Notes: After making this silly little post, the gears in my brain went into overdrive, and suddenly, I gave life to this~

I was also inspired by that one TikTok sound that's all like "When I say sit on my face, don't just put 10% of your body weight down. Fucking sit on it. Sit. Like a chair. Don't ask if I can breathe. Just sit down." Lmaooo! So, there's that. (I'm so gay for writing this 🤣)

Also, I’d be a criminal if I didn’t thank @fandxmslxt69 for reading the first half of this and helping me decide what direction I wanted it to go. Even if this wasn’t one of her typical reads, she’s the sweetest person ever and wanted to help anyway. So, THANK YOU, MY WIFE!!! MWAH!!! 💕

Word Count: 3,054

Dividers by @benkeibear

“You have fight in you. I can’t help but commend that.” Loki towered above me, her voice carrying throughout the throne room, though she didn’t seem to have to use any effort to retain her volume.

Everything about her was regal as ever. Her dark, wavy hair. Her strong cheekbones. Her long, elegant green dress and gold horned headdress. She was everything anyone expected the queen of Asgard to be. She was perfect.

“Your actions today prevented tragedy on a massive scale.” She continued. “Had you not employed your skillset the way you had today, the Kursed would have done more than tire out our border patrol."

“I tried to act accordingly to limit the threat to our kingdom.” I straightened my back in my kneeling position at her feet. “I live to serve the people of Asgard.”

What I really wanted to say was “I live to serve you”, but a glint in Loki’s eye gave me the feeling that she already knew that.

“Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.” The corner of her lip twitched into a small smirk. “I do believe it’s about time for a promotion of sorts, don’t you?”

She reached down to softly grab me by the chin, and my heart fluttered. It took everything out of me not to let my eyes flutter shut and sigh under her touch. I wasn’t clear on my relationship with Loki, but, whatever it was, it wasn’t typical of a queen and a member of her army. I definitely didn’t need anyone else catching wind of what we had between us.

My attention returned to the sound of her saying my full name in that same regal voice of hers. “Someone with your work ethic shouldn’t be kept in a position among the rest of the Einherjar. That would be an insult to your potential. Do you accept the responsibility that comes with being the queen’s personal Einheri?”

My eyes widened. Her what?

“You would be tasked with staying by my side at all times, as well as ensuring my absolute protection.” She continued. “It will not be easy.” She softly chuckled, mischief briefly glinting in her eye. “But, I promise great rewards for you in return.”

My heart was pounding in my ears. She might as well have asked me if I would accept her hand in marriage.

I took a deep breath to compose myself. “No reward would be greater than the opportunity to personally ensure your safety, min dronning.”

“Very well.” She let go of my face and conjured a green handkerchief in her hand before knighting me with it. “Starting today, you’ll bear the duties of my greatest protector.” She held the handkerchief out to me. “Take this as a token of my appreciation to you, and rise for the people of Asgard.”

Applause immediately filled the throne room as I gingerly accepted the handkerchief before rising to my feet. Loki and I shared a smile before I turned to face the audience. Cheering the loudest in the front row were some of my closest friends, Sif, Hogun, Volstagg, Fandral, and Thor. Heimdall stood beside them, his lips curved up in a proud smile as he silently nodded in approval. I bashfully waved at them, willing my cheeks not to glow with my embarrassment. I wasn’t particularly used to being the subject of this level of congratulations.

Wanting to avoid all the eyes on me, I looked back down at the handkerchief in my hands. It was clearly representative of Loki, green with elegant gold embroidery. Upon a closer look, I noticed that the embroidered designs formed words.

Find me in my chambers tonight, it read.

That was when I felt Loki’s fingers curl around my shoulder before she softly purred against the shell of my ear, “Du har gjort meg veldig glad i dag, kjæledyr~”

I felt a shiver down my spine, and had to bite my tongue to keep from moaning with the sudden desire I felt for her. Tonight couldn’t come fast enough.

───※ ·⛨· ※───

“Kneel.” The command was soft, but firm, and I didn’t hesitate to obey.

After my knighting ceremony, there was a feast in my honor. The festivities were almost too much, and I couldn’t help but almost feel that I didn’t deserve all this praise. When I wasn’t facing the embarrassing congratulations from my dear friends, my eyes scanned the room for Loki, locking eyes with her in a knowing glance.

Tonight, she seemed to silently promise me.

Each time, I held her gaze a little too long after she looked away before another one of my friends brought me back to reality.

Once the celebration was over, I didn’t waste a second before heading to her room. Now, I kneeled before her, still in my golden armor from the day’s work.

The low candlelight did nothing to diminish her regality. It only served to deepen the angles of her face as she slowly strolled over, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor and echoing off of the walls to fill the silence between us.

“You arrived quicker than I anticipated you would.” She cupped my face in her hand, thumb rubbing over my bottom lip. “Already so eager to please. Isn’t that right, pet?”

I let my eyes flutter shut and sighed into her touch. “Yes, my queen.”

Then, she let go, all too soon, before strolling over to her full-length mirror. “Normally, I have my maids assist me with this,” She moved her hair, revealing the lacing along the back of her gown’s corset. “But, consider this your first assignment.”

I felt my heart flutter. “Whatever you need, I’ll do it.”

“You can start by helping me out of this gown.” She purred, “Rise, min Einheri~”

Another pang of desire hit me at the sound of her calling me hers. I suddenly craved to hear it again. Min Einheri…

I slowly and wordlessly took to my feet before approaching her. She didn’t turn to look at me, instead, meeting my eye through the mirror in front of her.

“Be gentle, now,” She twirled one of her raven locks around her finger. “I rather like this one.”

All I could manage was a nod before I began to untie the back of her gown. I didn’t even realize, but as my fingers worked to undo the knots, I slowly leaned in closer to her. The smells of her perfumes and shampoo almost made me dizzy. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to kiss her, just to be able to taste her essence.

Once I loosened the corset, Loki shrugged off the dress, and it fell into a pool of fabric on the floor as she let out a sigh of relief. “That’s better.”

I bit the inside of my cheek as I took in the image in front of me. Loki stood before me in nothing more than a set of lacy green underwear. This wasn’t my first time seeing her like this, but I just couldn’t get past the awe I was struck with each time I was blessed with this vision. This goddess.

My hands itched to explore every inch of her newly exposed skin, but my eyes wasted no time in doing so. They traced along the softness of her thighs, the plumpness of her ass, and the curves of her hips, before inappropriately lingering on her pillowy breasts once she turned to face me.

I bit my lip against a growing throbbing sensation in my core.

“Do you like what you see, pet?” I looked up to meet the mischievous glint that returned to her eye. “I desire to give you so much more than this.” She strolled over, wrapping her arms around the back of my neck. “After all, I have yet to personally reward you for your loyalty.”

She was so tantalizingly close, our mouths only a breath apart, but before I could think to part my lips as an invitation, she pulled away. “Whoops! We can’t leave that lying around, now can we?” She cupped my cheek, rubbing the apple of it. “Would you mind hanging that up for me before it wrinkles?”

“Of course,” I breathed, and she smiled before walking off.

I let out a small sigh as I picked her gown up off of the floor. Leave it to Loki to be a tease. It was as if it was her bedroom trademark to always leave her partner wanting more, and I would gladly fall for it every time. It was a delicious vicious cycle.

I entered her grand walk-in closet, combing through the numerous gowns, tunics, and other glamorous articles of clothing before finding a spot to hang up her gown.

Suddenly, I heard Loki groan my name from the bedroom. My heart dropped into my stomach as I turned around and rushed out of the closet. Had she gotten hurt? Had I already failed at protecting her? Had I-

“Mmh, my darling pet~” Loki’s eyes were shut, her dark waves spilled over the white cotton of her pillows as she laid back in bed. Her breathing was heavy, and a faint blush crept into her cheeks, almost hidden behind the low lighting. I felt a similar warmth creep into mine as my eyes wandered along her now fully naked body, only stopping once they saw her fingers teasing her glistening cunt.

“I suppose I couldn’t wait through my own teasing.” She softly chuckled, cutting herself off with a softer moan. “Your loyalty to me is so… alluring. Appreciated, of course, but so alluring… When you fight for me… When you kneel for me… Gods, I’m so proud of you… and I have to have you.”

I slowly approached the bed, legs shaking from a sudden weakness in my knees. “And I want nothing more than to please you.”

“Oh, min Einheri,” Loki’s eyes rolled back, and the sound she made was absolutely lewd. I gripped one of the supports of her bed as my heart began to pound against my chestplate. The throbbing in my core was incessant. I didn’t just want Loki. I craved her.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” Loki mewled. “You invade my every waking thought… Don’t keep me waiting any longer.” With her free hand, she patted the spot on the bed next to her. “Come here.”

I obediently, but less-than-gracefully, crawled onto the bed before laying down to rest beside her.

“Your majesty-” I breathed before she cut me off by rolling on top of me.

“I believe the time for talk is over.” Her breath was warm against my face as her hair draped down around us. “I want you to show me how devoted you are to me.”

My eyes fluttered shut as she slowly began to lean closer to me, and I risked the move of gently grabbing her hips. “I’ll do anything you ask of me, min dronning.”

Finally, Loki closed the space between our mouths, biting my lip as she pulled away. My lips parted with a shudder, and she kissed me again, her tongue slipping into my mouth. I let my hands run along her back as I raised my knee between her thighs. She moaned into my mouth as she began to slowly grind against my thigh, the only part of my body covered in dark leather rather than shiny armor.

My mind grew hazy. I was drunk off the taste of Loki and the feel of her body against mine. Feeling her cunt clench against the muscles of my thigh was enough to make my head spin… But, I still needed more.

Loki slid her hands up along my chestplate to cup my face, and my hands found the round of her ass, giving it a squeeze. She moaned in my mouth as I began to help guide her along my thigh, my hips slowly bucking with my movements. Our kisses quickly grew feverish, as if we could devour each other. It seemed appropriate, considering the fact that I deeply hungered for her.

Once she broke our kiss, I trailed my lips along her neck, kissing, biting, sucking, licking, and breathing her in. I knew she’d end up all marked up by the end of the night, and a possessive part of me found a thrill in that. I’ll mark you, and only you, min dronning…

“Ah, darling-” The sounds I pulled from Loki were like music to my ears. “You’re too good to me…”

“...need to taste you, mmh…” I gasped before returning to marking her.

“Is that so?” Loki gently coaxed my face out of the crook of her neck. “Allow me to put you to work elsewhere, then~”

“Please, min dronning,” I breathed. “Let me please you.”

Loki sat up, straddling my hips. “And how do you wish to do that?”

I didn’t even have to think about it. “I want you to ride my face.” I softly caressed her thighs as I answered. “I want you to take what you need from me, and let me taste your release on my tongue.” The sweet nectar of your release… My mouth watered at the thought.

“My sweet pet,” Loki leaned forward to caress my cheek. “My loyal Einheri… That sounds dangerous.”

“Danger isn’t foreign to me.” I insisted.

“Of that, I’m sure.” Loki rubbed her thumb along my bottom lip. “But I still implore you to let me know if it becomes too much to bear. Three taps on my thigh and I’ll move immediately. Understood?”

“Understood.” I agreed.

A warm expression graced her features as she leaned forward to cup my face in her hands again. “My darling pet, so eager to please…”

My tongue darted out to wet my lips. “I live to serve you, min dronning.”

The last thing I saw was Loki’s mouth curve into a small smirk before I helped her shift her position to straddle my face.

She still held herself up to give me space, and I gently kissed along her inner thigh, hoping to ease her back into a sense of comfort. “Whenever you’re ready,” I whispered against her soft skin. “Just sit down.”

“Sit down?” A look of shock filled Loki’s eyes above me. “All the way?”

My legs squeezed together as the image began to solidify in my mind. I felt myself fill with a hunger I’d never felt before. I was ravenous, and the only thing to sate my craving was just a few inches from my mouth.

“All the way.” My eyes were unmoving from Loki’s as I reassured her. “I can take it.”

Loki pondered this for a moment. “As you wish.”

I brought my hands up to help guide her hips as she lowered herself down. Once she sat down, I could feel the pressure of her weight on my face, and it only served to spur me on.

I gave her hips a reassuring squeeze, my hands unceasingly caressing them as I began to work my tongue between her folds. My eyes fluttered shut, and I moaned into her cunt as the wet sounds we were making filled the room.

Any apprehension that Loki might have had fell away as I heard her moan. “Ohhh, yes… Just like that… Ohhh, my darling pet…”

I felt her thighs clench against my head, and the dirtiest parts of my mind hoped, just for a moment, that she’d crush me between them. I couldn’t stop the moan that tumbled from my throat once my brain conjured that imagery, the pulsing between my thighs driving me mad.

“Min Einheri…” Loki mewled, and I opened my eyes to see her head thrown back as she was lost in ecstasy. “Min lojale Einheri… You know how to please me so well… Ah- Don’t stop! Don’t stop!”

Her loud moans seemed to rattle off of the castle walls as she began to buck her hips, and I hoped my fingers weren’t digging too deep into her skin while I helped keep her steady. It was difficult to keep myself in check, since I was eating her out as if I was starved. She was everything I wanted–my wildest dreams come alive–and I knew I’d remember her taste for days, craving it until she’d let me have her again.

I wanted to be able to voice my thoughts, but all I could manage was, “Mmmmmmmh… Mmh…” as my eyes fluttered closed again.

Any coherence from my queen was gone, her words practically slurring as her pet name for me was the only thing tumbling from her lips between her panting breaths. “Min Einheri… Ohhhh, min Einheri…”

I felt her clench against my mouth as her moans grew whinier. She was close.

Min dronning… I sighed another moan against her cunt.

Loki cried out my name, her voice a little hoarse as she spilled her release into my mouth. I greedily lapped it up, saliva slowly dripping down the sides of my mouth as I swallowed every drop I could.

As she came down from her high, I noticed her legs shaking as she struggled to move off of me. She only made it a few inches before I gripped her hips again.

“Wait!” I was loudly gasping for air, but I wasn’t fully sated just yet. “Once more… Please…”

“You have to be mad.” Loki breathlessly scoffed. “Have you no consideration for your own wellbeing?”

Not right now. “Please… Min dronning…” I begged. “I’m not done demonstrating my loyalty to you… Please… Once more…”

She deeply considered this, her brows furrowing in the slightest. “You remember our agreement, yes? Three taps if you need air.”

“I remember.” I felt my heart begin to race as I sensed her beginning to change her mind.

A hint of a smile ghosted at her lips as she began to lower herself back down onto me. “Alright, min Einheri… Once more…” At least, that’s what her words said.

A glint in her eye told me that she knew just as well as I did that this wouldn’t be only once more...

───※ ·⛨· ※───

Min dronning - My queen

Du har gjort meg veldig glad i dag, kjæledyr - You've made me very happy today, pet

Min Einheri - My Einheri

Min lojale Einheri - My loyal Einheri

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mrsfrecklesmarauders · 18 days

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It was at fifteen that Sirius felt something for someone for the first time.

He was just a silly boy who had kissed a couple of girls not because he wanted them but because they initiated it.

The summer when he met George, Sirius would call it the best of his life. The bloke was one of his Uncle's friends. He was way older. In his thirties. He was cool, handsome and easy going. He dressed like a Rockstar: cool leather jackets, tight jeans, piercings and leather boots. Plus he had the most angelical voice Sirius had ever heard.

They toured through different cities of Europe thanks to Alphard's money. George sang in every bar and club they could find. Alphard brought his nephews along, pretending they were more than eighteen and not minors with little experience of that world.

Regulus didn't enjoy his time much. He didn't enjoy the clubs and crowds and preferred to get lost in his books. Sirius was delighted with all that experience. With George and his Uncle, he learned to drink, to smoke, to listen to music, to flirt and to have fun.

Sirius thought Alphard's life was wonderful. Full of adventures, so different than what the rightful House of Black represented. During that summer, Sirius swore to be just like George when he was older.

But what George made him feel was intense and very different than what he had felt before. George was this amazing person that Sirius wanted to impress. He got nervous around him. And at the same time he felt so wild, like anything was possible around him.

Sirius couldn't stop looking at him, admiring every move, every smile, every word that came out of his mouth. His heart beat harder when George winked at him. He blushed when he rubbed his hair. And when he sang, Sirius was transported to another world.

Of course in Sirius’s fifteen year old mind, it was impossible to acknowledge these feelings as love. It was impossible for Alphard to be gay. It was impossible for him to be gay. So Sirius just saw all of this as admiration. Nothing more.

They were just bachelors having fun without compromise.

"George, Uncle has been looking for you"

George was at the hotel terrace, sitting at the edge of the roof, looking down at the street, feet tangling down. He held a cigarette between his lips. He had dark shades and wearing only a white tee he looked incredibly great. How could he manage that?

"Sirius, come here" George gestured for Sirius to come closer, smiling at him with his perfect white teeth.

Sirius couldn't avoid blushing as he approached.

"Look at this view, isn't gorgeous?"

Sirius saw the city of Paris in front of his eyes. Sunset was making the sky pink and yellow. The buildings had a certain glow in them. Everything looked as if it was made of gold. Paris was truly breathtaking. Eiffel Tower in the back. Sirius had been a few times, but he had never seen the city this beautiful.

"C'est trés jolie" Sirius commented as he took a seat besides George.

George laughed. His hair was also golden, shinning under the sun.

"At least I get you to talk to me in French, your Uncle doesn't want to"

Sirius was aware of his cheeks getting on fire.

"I bloody love Paris" George added "Might want to stay here forever"

"Me too" Sirius suddenly agreed looking at the landscape "I don't want summer to be over"

George raised an eyebrow.

"Come on, I'm sure you miss your friends" he said "Maybe a pretty girl you left behind?"

Sirius did miss his friends. The Marauders and their silly pranks. Although he didn't think about them every second of the day. Not when Sirius was having this much fun. He thought he should probably write to James. Then he felt nostalgic and got excited about the idea of telling him about of his adventures to him. He was surely going to love them.

"Maybe my friends, but no.. I don't have a girl" Sirius found himself nervously playing with his wristband as he said this.

"Oh yeah? A boy as handsome as you?"

Sirius now smiled at his own silliness and way of blushing so easily.

"I am like my Uncle. A free spirit. Do not want to waste time in just one girl"

He said it mainly to sound cooler. Like George as well. He flirted and talked with plenty of girls after his shows. But never actually stayed with one.

George looked away into the sunset with a sigh "Your Uncle, a free spirit, isn't he?" he took a drag of his cigarette, then realized he was supposed to offer it to Sirius.

Sirius grabbed it between his fingers. He had managed to not cough the other day. He wasn’t very keen of the smell and taste. But he wanted to look cool. And George looked so cool while he smoked.

Sirius managed to take a full drag and only coughed a little as he let the smoke out. George was amused. God, why did Sirius want to impress him so much? And why did he fail miserably?

"Are you angry with him?" Sirius asked as he passed the cig back "With my Uncle? I heard you discussing with him yesterday after your show"

If Sirius had been paying more attention he would have seen George go a bit frigid.

"It was just some bickering, Sirius. Do you bicker with your mates?"

Sirius shared a dorm with his best friends. Sometimes they fought about silly stuff.

"All the time" Sirius sneered.

George nodded with a smile.

"Your Uncle has an insufferable temper, I must tell you"

Sirius chuckled "He is alright"

"Have we met the same Alphard?"

Sirius found himself laughing and afterwards he couldn't stop smiling. It was a stupid thing.

'I like you' Sirius wanted to say. 'I'm glad you are my Uncle's friend. And I am glad I met you'

"Don't worry about it, mate"

But he didn't dare. The words were just stuck on his throat like a bloody syrup.

George kept smoking in silence. Sirius opened his mouth trying to find the right words. It was the nervousness that got him this silly.

"Each morning I wake up and die a little, can't barely stand on my feet..."

However his thoughts were interrupted when George began singing. He winked making Sirius blush. It was an acapella song without music, without warning, just because he felt like it. And Sirius smiled because he recognized this song.

"Take a look in the mirror and cryyy... Oh lord what you're doing to mee... I have spent all my years in believing you... Someday I'm gonna be free Looooord!"

Sirius couldn't get more fascinated by George's voice. He hadn't heard something so beautiful. He hadn't seen anyone so beautiful. In his mind it was that he wanted to be exactly like George. That cool, that amazing, that talented, that perfect.

"Find me somebody to Looove... Find me somebody to Looove" Sirius sang as well.

George smiled before continuing.

"Caaan anybody find mee...." George made a pause looking at the beautiful sky "Somebody toooo....... loooooooveeeee...."

The last part gave Sirius goosebumps. Not even Mercury had managed that. So Sirius was smiling just because. Cheeks pink, no wonder.

And George was smiling as well. Cheeky little smile below his shades.

Sirius wanted to smile at someone someday and provoke all the crazy things he was feeling now.

"George, don't encourage my nephew to sing. He has a terrible voice"

Alphard was right behind them. He had a soft smile on his face. But he looked tired. Maybe he just woke up.

"And don't you dare encourage him to smoke" Alphard added as he practically ripped the cigarette out of George's hand.

"He is a grown up boy, Alphard"

"I am a grown up boy, Uncle" Sirius smiled innocently. He actually couldn't wait to be a grown up adult like these two. Free from Orion and Walburga, free from all the stupid rules.

Alphard rolled his eyes as he took a drag.

"Your mother will kill me if she knew what you've been doing this summer"

Sirius buffed. He was embarrassed to be treated like a brag in front of George.

"Better not tell her, eh Alphard?"

"Why don't you go and fetch your brother?"

Alphard asked as he kept smoking "He's been reading the same bloody book in bed all day..."

Regulus was just fourteen. And he was already behaving like a bloody boomer.

"Look at that sight, let's go eat something outside"

Sirius rolled his eyes.

"I am not Reggie's babysitter"

Alphard patted him in the shoulder. "Come on, lad. I need to have a moment alone with George, yeah?"

Sirius noticed George haven't said a word. He kept looking forward. Sirius wished he would know what he was thinking.

"Yeah, of course" he said reluctantly as he stood up. Alphard gave him a sympathetic smile before Sirius left.

As he was walking inside, Sirius turned to see at his Uncle and George discuss. They were talking in low voices so Sirius couldn't hear. He couldn't tell by the shades but was he crying?

Then Alphard whispered something to make George give him his handsome smile. And something weird happened. Alphard touched his cheek delicately. Both men looked into each other's eyes.

Sirius found the gesture so intimate that he decided to leave.

Sirius was blind back then. He should have seen that as romantic. He should have known what his Uncle was. What George was. Now with everything that had happened with Remus, it all made more sense. Remus was not the first bloke he had fancied. Perhaps...

Something was certain. Alphard had been terrified to tell everyone the truth. And Sirius was terrified as well. He wished his Uncle was not dead so he could talk to him. He wished Alphard had trusted him. But he didn't. And Sirius missed him very much. Now he had to figure out all of these feelings on his own.

#My headcanon is that Sirius’s gay awakening was one of his Uncle's friends #But he didn't know what it was back then #From this lad he got the Rockstar vibe #marauders #maraudersera #muggleau #sirius black #alphard black #regulus black #wolfstar

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ouraboras · 21 days

Text

Ranking Alucard's Designs, Best to Worst

I've had a rough day and feel like being mean. These are just my opinions. Some rules:

I’m not counting each game a character appears in unless the design is noticeably different. I don’t count different art styles as a different design. I’m not counting the mobile game skins with two exceptions. For the most part it’s just him but purple. However, for your pleasure, joker Alucard:

Symphony of the Night

No surprise. It’s his most iconic design. He’s gorgeous. I enjoy how he wears a mixture of human clothes (the jacket) and more stereotypical vampire clothing like the cape. Same with warm colors with black and silver.

2. Grimoire of Souls

I love this design. I kiss it every night before I go to bed. I pray to it on Sundays. His waist makes me go feral. The only thing that bothers me is the brown lining. I wish they did something like the inside of his SotN jacket.

3. Moonlight Rhapsody – Outfit 3

I know absolutely nothing about this game. However, I love this skin. In my head when I imagine Alucard pre-Dracula betrayal this is it. The collar is a bit silly but I can look past it. I love the sleeves. The only critique I have is the brown and we’ll get to my feeling on Alucard wearing brown. But on this outfit, it’s not too bad.

4. Nocturne

They gave him his gay little neck ruffle back nature is healing. I wish they kept the details on the coat, but I’ll happily take the trade. I like his face.

5. The cancelled Dracula’s Curse movie concept art

I need to know what the context behind this would have been. The skirt, the pauldrons, his bloody hands, HIS HAIR PUSHED BACK. The only thing I dislike is his black nipple.

6. Aria and Dawn of Sorrow

I like the suit. The red pocket square is nice. I think it is a really interesting choice for it to be red rather than yellow as a callback. I love the choice to make him resemble Dracula pre-vampirism. All of his color has been drained and replaced with black and red. I go back and forth on if I hate or like (for symbolic reasons) his tie-neck ruffle thing. But none of that is my real problem with the design. His shoes are hideous. The heel is good. He deserves a little heel. But what is going on with the white. It's ugly and going to be a bitch to keep clean. His slacks are too long. He’s a government agent, he can afford to go to a tailor.

7. Season 1 & 2 of the show

I dislike the shirt. I’m not a big fan of how they drew his face either. But I like how they gave him Trevor’s chest scar.

8. Captain N

He’s so rad. But to be honest, Captain N Alucard has a special place in my heart. I remember when this was the closest thing to an animated series Castlevania had. It being this high is purely my nostalgia. I highly recommend watching the episode. It is pure 90s camp.

9. Season 4 of the show

Whore.

10. Grimoire of Souls – Blood and Loyalty

I can’t find a better look at this skin. He’s apparently dressed as a samurai. I like this purely because his hair is up. I don’t see enough of that. (artists pls you’d be doing the world a service)

11. Lords of Shadow 2

The only thing I like about this design is the coat. The dark blue with gold looks really good. I don’t like the belts, but I can ignore them. My issue is the armor. I hate the bronze so much. The armor on one hip is ugly. The ONLY thing that salvages this crime is the fact this Alucard is wearing the highest heels. This looks like an MMO armor set.

12. Judgement

I only unironically like 2 of Judgement’s designs. This is not one of them. I dislike it purely because of how boring it is. They put Simon in bondage gear, gave Trevor a boob window, and made Sypha a Catholic magical girl. But Alucard has to be more modest than the actual child. They could have fun with this but didn't. The most interesting thing about this design is they made a vintage couch into his cape.

13. Dracula’s Curse

This is Alucard’s original design. It’s just your standard pop culture vampire. I like his little owl hair tufts.

14. Legends

I’m fine with changing up Alucard’s design. Hell, we got SotN because of changing it. However, why is he blue? It’s not this illustration either he is just light blue for some reason. I like the short hair. I think it’s a cute way to show this game takes place in the past. But again, purple? Really? His necktie is not doing it for me either. It looks really bad.

15. And finally, last and certainly least: Pachinko and Moonlight Rhapsody

The faces? Good. Hair? Good. But for some reason they made his coat brown. At LEAST for pachinko they had some gold gauntlets and brown gloves instead of his sleeve cuffs. But whatever fucked up person at Konami did the design for MR kept the sleeve cuffs. It’s not like there is the excuse of ‘Oh the inside is black’ because it’s yellow. Now you might be asking: Why is this the worst? I have similar issues with other designs. But here is the thing, they all did something new. This is just your standard SotN Alucard with a color palette change. It looks like a recolor skin but it’s the main one. It's a bad change but not one bad enough to not be boring.

#castlevania #castlevania nocturne #alucard #alucard tepes #castlevania games

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sparrow-in-the-field · 2 months

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The other day youtube suggested a compilation of Jack Mulhern as grizz scenes from the society and I decided to watch it, cuz I wasn't sure I'd ever get around to watching the actual show (teen dramas aren't super my thing and also just like, *gestures vaguely at life and lack of time*).

Anyway, here are my thoughts:

I kinda knew this from pics already but it just solidified the fact that Jack was a cutie freaking patootie in this?? He's so baby and I love his long hair omg (very excited to use these visuals in my modern tbitb au)

I literally just said it but his hair deserves its own bullet point lmao. It's cute when it's down and a little in his face, it's adorable in that silly little bun, it's just so so cute wtf

Jack has a really nice voice?? Listen, we love Don Hume and his quiet awkward self, and Jack did a great job of portraying a character with limited lines, but watching this compilation made me realize just how few lines Don actually had lol. He has a nice voice! Let him speak!

Obviously I didn't see much of the other characters from the show but I'm pretty confident grizz would have been my fav. Kinda nerdy but still sporty gay boy with a heart of gold? Yeah that's ticking a lot of boxes for me.

That being said, ooff, the plot with him and that other boy! Almost made me glad I didn't watch the whole show lol I think that would have made me so upset. Literally at the pregnancy reveal in the compilation I just went "oh okay, this show is messy!"

However, that scene of grizz telling off sam about it really gave Jack a chance to show off his acting chops. I felt that scene, and I didn't even watch the whole show! I was really impressed. (I could probably go on another rant about how I think he's really talented from tbitb too, which I kinda hinted at above, but yeah. Talent!)

Based on the last few clips I think it must have been frustrating that the show got cancelled. Netflix why are you like this.

Tldr; I think Jack is quite talented and I hope he keeps getting cast in stuff, and they should let all of his characters have long hair lol

#jack mulhern #I'm not gonna tag the show because it's not really about that #I'm just fangirling over jack #don't worry about it

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cloverofhope · 5 months

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I’m asking, tell us abt ur au pls

Ohohohoh gladly

putting a keep reading thing here bc this is gonna be a longish post lol

Quick backstory

Okay, so a little backstory of the au itself. It was originally a roleplay plot that I made to cheer a friend up bc he was upset about something in another roleplay chat, but the plot then was very different to what it is now. Haive didn't exist at the time, nor did most of the characters that are going to be from Haive (aka Berks equivalent.) It was originally called "The Flipped Universe" or at least that was the second version of the plot was. I genuinely cannot remember what the original version was called anymore.

An argument happend and the second version was effectively dropped before we went onto the third version which was effectively the same plot except we switched who played hiccup and boy oh boy are they a good runaway!hiccup player. Most of the times we started the roleplay it, it took place after httyd2 so I'm writing what would've happened from httyd on.

Characters that are important right noW

Clover- she's the main character in this story. She's effectively the Hiccup of Haive. She's a little bit shorter than Hiccup and doesn't grow much past her height in this part of the story. Clover has red hair that goes to about her upper back when she lets it down, and emerald green eyes that could pierce into your soul if she's pissed off. She's pretty artistic, spending any free time she can find drawing something if she's not already focused on something else. She's got a heart of gold and stubbornness to go with it. She's fairly inventive, and she has a lot of spontaneous ideas that do work a fair amount of time

Iris- She's the light fury in the cove. She lost her right tailfin. She's mostly white with spots along her back and head that are grayish purple, but they look more gray than purple. Her ears have pastel blue spots along the top. She doesn't trust easily but once you've earned her trust, there's almost nothing she won't do. She's not the most playful or chatty at first but after she meets Clover and some of the other dragons she really opens up her shell

Rollo- She's the dragon rider that Clover convinced to help. After being raised by dragons, she DOES understand Dragonese and will eventually teach most of the others in the group, one of them being too stubborn to learn. She's the most ruthless of the group in this and sometimes has to be physically held back so she doesn't hurt someone who doesn't need to be hurt. Rollo doesn't understand some traditions at first, and Clover isn't the best at explaining why things are done the way that they are. She's got black hair that's been dyed with flowers that primarily grow on Haive and on islands near it, especially at the nest Rollo grew up on. She's a little bit taller than Clover

Rou- He's the most playful and silly woolly howl anyone could meet. He loves to sing songs for those he loves and is fiercely protective of his family. He's got blue scales and his 'fluff' is a milk chocolately brown. (I'm pretty sure- Its been so long since I've seen his ref sheet lol). Him and Rollo are effectively siblings after being raised together.

Wilder- Clover's younger brother. He's about five years younger. He's a clever little guy who wants to be just like his sister when he grows up. (Or at least he will eventually lol). He's got red hair and freckles galore. He cares a lot, sometimes too much.

mm i think thats all the characters imma do for now- at least in this post- I don't need it being 5000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 characters long lol

The 'What Ifs' that this AU is based off of that don't really spoil anything

What if Toothless was a light fury instead?

What if Dragonese existed in the movie universe?

What if Hiccup and Toothless ran away before Astrid ever found out?

What if httyd was more gay?

What if hiccup had help while training toothless?

As I'm thinking- I'm realizing that most of the other 'what ifs' spoil a lot- so that's all ya get for now

Headcanons! These won't spoil much- right?

Furies bond with other species by mimicking behaviors

Light furies are great swimmers

Dragons have a whole ass culture, some things can vary from nest to nest, but most things are pretty similar

not exactly sure how to explain this one, but an alpha's command isn't like spoken words- its more a sense only a dragon can feel, and isn't something humans can possibly learn

fury eggs don't explode- nor do woolly howl eggs-

hmmm not sure what else i can add that doesn't spoil a whole lot- so enjoy this!

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kissagii · 1 year

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cali boy iwaizumi x vaguely-male-coded reader :)

When Iwaizumi came to the States, he swore he was done playing volleyball competitively. He was done with school teams, done with huge city tournaments, done with dedicating his heart and soul to a sport where he was never good enough. Joining the intramural volleyball tournament with his roommates was more of a joke than anything, a last reminiscing on the joy of his high school career before moving on to a different side of the sport. After that tournament (if it could even be called that) he would be done.

And yet there you were. Radiant on the court, playing the final match fiercely for the free (hideous) t-shirt prizes, clearly inexperienced but having more fun than everyone else in the game combined. How your team - the sunnies, you called yourself - had progressed this far, Iwaizumi didn’t know. But your energy kept the scores evenly matched, each point becoming harder and harder to score. For the first time in the tournament, Iwaizumi was compelled to play.

The first set was long, the second even longer, and the third seemed to drag on for an eternity. It had been a long time since he played a game as tense as this one. And with each play he became more and more distracted, more and more enamored with your joy, beaming like the sun despite the sweat dripping down your face. Your eyes caught the light nicely, perhaps too nicely. When your final spike came crashing down he nearly forgot to block.

The intramural volleyball tournament was nothing serious, most teams featured an ex-player and the friends they dragged into it, but the look on your face made it seem like you had just won an Olympic gold. The little plastic medals and dorky t-shirts may as well have been made of pure gold, and the joy was infectious. When Iwaizumi was given his own silly plastic medal - silver, for second, a placement he was all too familiar with - he would’ve sworn it was made of precious metals. And yet no shiny disk would be as bright as you.

Iwaizumi cursed himself again and again as he made his way to the gym to work out the rest of the game’s adrenaline rush. How could he have been so stupid, so enraptured by someone he’d likely never see again, not on a campus of 30 thousand students. His team was let down, and it wasn’t the first time. I can never win a game, can I? They were idiots for thinking I’d help them win.

He was barely away from the indoor courts when someone started calling down the hallway, “Yo, big guy! In the mint shirt!”

When he turned, there you were. Still sweaty and wearing the silly not-actually-gold medal, though it nearly blended in with the yellow of your team’s ‘uniforms,’ a volleyball tucked under your arm.

“I’m starting a club team, wanna join?” You grin as you toss him the ball, “C’mon, we’re doing two-on-two, let’s play some sets together.”

Iwaizumi Hajime swore he was done playing volleyball competitively.

“You sure two spikers on a team is a good idea?”

The mischievous look you give him over your shoulder makes his heart skip a few beats.

“We’ll make it work.”

i'm very gay. and not going to uc irvine lmao

#imagine ⋆｡°✩#iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime x reader #hajime iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi x male reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu

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valaruakars · 2 years

Text

Let’s Get Physical (Part 5)

Viktor/F!Reader || 7.4k || Modern!AU + Gym!AU || SFW (but getting suggestive)

The mystery unravels. Viktor crashes the world’s loneliest slumber party. Rio’s on her best behavior. Vi gives a really gay pep talk that lifts you high, and Caitlyn lays you low.

Biggest of thank yous to @weltraum-vaquero who literally said ‘but what if he was grosser’ and i was like oh absolutely yes

Part 1 → Part 2 → Part 3 → Part 4 → Part 5 (Ao3 Link)

Once you start seeing him, you can’t stop running into Viktor.

Well, maybe running into him isn’t the right phrase. Nothing about it is quite so unexpected. Not in his own house, not when you know he’s home. Not when you consciously hope to chance upon him each time you slip inside from your workout. It’s all very intentional, your silly little excuses to briefly defect. And they are silly, should you be caught dumping half your water out in the bushes or with your phone near full battery as you take it to charge safely in the kitchen. Even alone, you have to justify it to yourself—can’t seem to be seeking him out, but you certainly are.

And you’ve been lucky.

Because twice now, you’ve found him out in the open.

With low expectations of a man who seems tethered to his room, a private creature, it startles you the first time you walk in and he’s just there. To see him and all his books and papers spread out across the kitchen table has your heart trip and catch its rhythm, quicker than before.

There’s something about him, something different; a faint glow in shades of gold and brown and that enduring purple beneath his eyes. Or perhaps he’s simply backlit by the bay windows overlooking the pool, wreathing him in that nearly autumn light. You can’t stare too long, too closely, but it has to be that. Otherwise you’d think he looks content despite the exhaustion carved into the hollows of his face, and that can’t be right. Again and again, you wonder if he ever sleeps.

His cup of coffee and the whole bottle of Tylenol next to it say no, suggesting a rough night prior.

A different evening, that giddy second time, he looks much the same. Same expression, same demeanor, same clutter in a semi-circle around him. You might think he hasn’t moved from the spot, but a change of clothes tells you otherwise.

And twice now, of his own accord, he’s been the one to hum a little ‘hello’ over the lid of his laptop when you walk in. Dutiful as he types away at something in quick keystrokes, he hardly glances up, but the acknowledgment makes your toes curl with excitement in the tight space within your sneakers.

Whatever he’s up to seems important, though. Nothing to interrupt, so you keep those exchanges quick and concise. Keep it to hi and bye on your fake little errand. Then flit back out the door again having found your private thrill in seeing him, which will have to be enough.

It is a thrill, truly—one that has your heart beating harder, leaves you a little breathless before you’ve even picked up your weights again or powered back up the treadmill. You are properly addicted now to the lilt of his voice, the wild way his hair curls soft around the hard angles of his face. Have sampled his sweet, awkward kindness and find yourself in want of more. Anything to nurture that warm bloom of curiosity you feel when you think of him and wonder more and more about the sort of person he is when he’s alone. Anything to support that what you feel isn’t shallow or strictly physical—not anymore.

So, you decide: Third time’s the charm.

Growing brave, you take the next easy opportunity while Jayce and Vi are bickering about what sets to do next. Chug your water and duck inside for more with no further explanation than a shake of the empty bottle. Never mind that it gives you that gross, sloshy feeling in the pit of your stomach. It’s worth it, even if he isn't there this time.

But he had been.

You wander into the kitchen to find that he’d set up at the island this morning, but without his usual array of cluttered mess. He’s left out only a book and a pen beside a plate of untouched toast and a half-eaten plum. But more importantly, he’s left out that laptop of his, curious thing. Left it open and plugged in to an outlet so that the screen never darkens into sleep mode. The cursor blinks steadily on the page as you pass, drawing you in, tempting you to look. Stops you slowly in your tracks.

What harm can it do? All week, you wondered what he worked on so diligently. Couldn’t bring yourself to simply ask Jayce—what if he makes assumptions about your interest? Never mind that they might be right, but you’d rather shoulder it privately than face disappointment just yet. Couldn’t bring yourself to ask Viktor himself either—what if your questions bother him when he’s been so preoccupied? It would be easier for everyone if you just look.

So you backpedal a few steps. Hover over the computer and try not to feel too guilty because you just have to know.

The title in the upper left corner is an acronym that tells you nothing. The actual content is far worse.

The page he’d left off on is a series of equations, not a single number in the godforsaken things. No, these are entirely comprised of variables that you’d probably been taught in undergraduate math and long since forgotten. Even so, that wouldn’t have helped you here. This is something completely and utterly out of your depth, surely, because even the explanations offered below each equation can’t make them make sense. The words weave a picture you are blind to, like another language entirely. You skim and catch words like velocity and momentum, so what, this is physics? Your itchy fingers just have to swipe the touchpad. You scroll down for more context, much needed, and find a diagram of a structural formula—so something related to chemistry?

You keep paging down, eyes catching on random words. Pass tables and graphs and so many more acronyms, but for shame, you can’t grasp what it was actually about. Only that you are two very different types of smart, and that this is an advanced piece of research beyond casual understanding.

Even with more time, it’s unlikely you’d decipher anything meaningful. And you are out of it, by the sound of his door shutting softly.

Startled, you squeak and hurry away from the computer. You aren’t so bold as to get unapologetically caught snooping. So you busy yourself at the fridge. Just getting ice and some water. Nothing out of the ordinary. Very routine.

It doesn’t startle him to find someone lurking around the corner. Even if that someone is you.

He passes by holding his coffee mug by the rim. Skin still flushed fresh pink from the shower, you catch the smell of soap as he quietly greets you yet again and reclaims his seat at the counter. Hair damp and dripping in places down the neat collar of his shirt, you feel warmer than before and snatch your eyes off him quickly. He usually looks so put together, while you draw a sharp contrast, looking such a mess each and every time. A sweaty thing today in your baggy shirt and shorts that have shrunk up since you bought them, riding higher than you like. You tug down at the hem, as if that might offer you any more put-together modesty.

With him sitting closer now than the times before, the silence between you feels heavier. Or maybe that’s just the pressing weight of guilt. But Viktor breaks it quickly, clearing his throat to steal your attention away from the rising line of water in your little plastic bottle. Not that it was interesting. You certainly prefer to look at him.

As he picks up a paring knife to slice a piece of plum off the whole, he asks, ever casual, certainly knowing, “What did you think?”

You dare to sound innocent, practically batting your lashes. “Of what?” As if you aren’t a complete idiot, not scrolling the page back up to where you found it.

Somehow, that earns you his wisp of a smile, an entirely disarming thing. “My dissertation,” he says. “I remember, I didn’t leave off on this section.”

Straightforward as he is, the confession comes easily. “I’m sorry, did I lose your place?”

“Of course not,” he says, self-assured. “At this stage, I know it too well. And you did not get very far.”

You try not to track the way he pops that golden-fleshed fruit into his mouth; the way his hands work to carve off another neat piece. You are hungry, that is the truth, though only half of it. He chews thoughtfully before he adds: “You know, I would’ve just shown it to you, had you asked.”

You practically snort, screwing on the lid of your water bottle as you mutter, “Well, I saved you the trouble. Now you don’t have to waste your time showing me something I won’t understand.”

“There are far simpler explanations for some of this content, and I enjoy giving them. If you’re curious, I would not consider that a waste.” His voice pitches hopeful. “Are you?”

‘Mostly about you,’ is your private response, but outwardly you force yourself to coyly tell him, “A little.”

Something in him lights up, all in the eyes, at the opportunity to share the thing he cares so deeply about. “Would you… like to sit?”

Which was why it hurts to say, “I can’t…” as you look off toward the garage, the low, reverberating bass a distant reminder. You should be getting back by now.

“Ah,” he says quietly, disappointment palpable in that single sound. He turns his attention away from you, back to the screen in front of him, stung by that rejection.

“Could you at least tell me what program it’s for?” you ask, trying to salve what damage you’d unintentionally done—to demonstrate your interest and bookmark it for later. “I only skimmed, but it seemed multi-disciplinary.”

“Somewhat. It falls under nuclear science and engineering.”

“Masters?” you ask, hoping to relate at least on that note.

“Doctoral,” he corrects, and suddenly a lot of things make sense about him. Nobody gets through those programs at the University of Piltover without being chewed up and spit out in the process. Seclusion is practically a feature, if only to keep up with all the responsibilities. The tedious work therein leaves little time for a personal life. You forgive the haughtiness with which he responds, just the once. You let him have that as a consolation prize for the shit he’s clearly slogging through.

“Well that’s very impressive, but I’m sure you know that,” you say, kicking yourself for sounding a little like an ass-kisser. But watching him preen beneath that compliment—if the subtle, sly little curve of his lips is anything to go by—you think fuck it. It's far better than the sulking, to see him feel good about himself. “Though… It probably doesn’t mean a lot coming from someone who barely passed every math class required to graduate.”

“And yet you did pass.”

“Because I always cheated off the smart kid next to me, yes,” you snort, and receive a bit of a dirty look from him. But you shrug it off and add: “It was never what I was good at.”

“You could’ve learned,” he says quietly, like it’s some slow dawning disappointment that your brain isn’t wired for numbers like his.

“Maybe,” you hum, noncommittal, “but it wasn’t relevant to the degree I was pursuing. Not then or now, so no offense, but it would've been kind of pointless. Not all science programs require mathematical proficiency, you know.”

That seems to pique his interest. He opens his mouth to say something. What, you have no idea and never will, because your name is shouted over him in Jayce��s most authoritative voice. Probably thanks you’re skipping out on the hard work, so you shout back between cupped hands that you’re coming.

Viktor’s eyes cut away, annoyed at the interruption—you catch that, yes.

Despite your hurry to get back out there, you come up just beside him. Your hand rests warm against the cool granite countertop. It’s just shy of his forearm because you have to plant it there to curb the urge to touch him casually. You’re so used to it with other friends, but he’s not just anyone. “I’ll see you later?”

“Not today,” he says curtly, but that’s okay.

You know you’ll run into him again.

—

Sleep is fitful.

It wanders in and out of waking; funny little lucid dreams that feel too real, that take turns you can’t follow, full of nonsensical anxieties.

A student waits for their appointment in your bathroom, why can’t you get up? Get to them? You have to, you have to—you want to keep this position. But your body won’t budge. You are running out of time. Running out of time, yes, sleeping in your cramped little office—your bed tucked between walls that tower infinite above you, and you’ll be in so much trouble for sleeping here. It’s still your apartment, yes, but it’s work too, bleeding together becoming one. Twisting, warping—why is he here? Someone is standing above you, waiting for you to wake—your supervising professor, surely, because you forgot that assignment. You know, the one. It’s late. He’s waiting.

No… Wait.

Someone is standing above you.

You startle awake—truly awake—with a gasp, reality rushing in whip fast and dizzy as you twist in your blanket to sit up. Brought back to consciousness by one part your climbing heart rate, two parts a sixth sense. The one that speaks up when you’re being watched; the one that whispers to you, even in dead sleep, that something is wrong.

And what’s wrong is Viktor, staring down at you in mute shock over the back of the couch.

That dream, born of one too many drinks at dinner, has lied to you. You are neither at home nor at work, but curled into yourself, freezing cold under a paper-thin blanket on Jayce’s living room couch.

It all snaps back into place.

Back to late last night.

You’d been pleasantly buzzed enough to make driving home dangerous. You needed to stay. Caitlyn and Vi too, but they had rights to the upstairs guest room, which was fine. You’d agreed to sleep on that lumpy couch with little care, less consideration for where it left you. You only cared that you stank of the beer that Violet had drenched you in. Talking too enthusiastically with her hands, she’d slapped it clear off the table and down your front. That was at the forefront of your mind the whole way home and then some, before someone threw a clean t-shirt at your face and told you to stop whining. Massive, down to mid thigh, it could only be Jayce’s. And Jayce would be the only one to own a Naruto t-shirt, if you had any lingering doubts.

By the time you’d changed and sloppily tried to clean up in the powder room sink, everyone had already dispersed upstairs. Left you woefully alone to scavenge a blanket and a crappy old throw pillow. To stare up at a different ceiling until you fell asleep to the strange sounds of a house not your own.

But Viktor—you hadn’t told him that you were staying. Hadn’t thought to tell him. Hadn’t thought about him since the four of you had piled into Jayce’s car and it was clear he wasn’t coming along to taco night. You weren’t going to angst about it; weren’t going to wonder what it might be like to spend time with him outside the house. You put him out of your mind quite intentionally, and then quite unintentionally once the sour sweet buzz of the margaritas kicked in.

Until now.

“I—I’m sorry,” he whispers, frozen in place. You’ve never heard him so breathless before. “I didn’t mean…”

He loses his grip on the words as you hum your groggy displeasure, rubbing flecks of sleep-sand from your eyes. “Mmn, what’re you doing…?” you ask blearily, finding your throat dry and steel wool scratchy, mouth to match. It makes you sound that hushed sort of angry.

You… aren’t?

No, not really. You’re mostly tired and confused and slow to find your coherence. Distantly relieved, too, that you’ve been sleeping with your face shoved into the crook of your elbow, not an open-mouthed, splay-limbed, embarrassing sort of mess.

“I was… Ah…” he begins. Fumbles with what to say, and oh how the tables have turned—finally his turn to feel that hot flush of embarrassment you know so well. If his cheeks or the lean column of his neck pinken for it, you can’t see.

You sling an arm over the back of the couch; keep yourself upright as your sluggish gaze sweeps the room. Catch the little white numbers illuminated on the microwave first: 3:55am. See the faint light of an open door at the end of the hallway next—Viktor’s room. Look at Viktor himself last, fit to collapse with how he held his breath. He’s mortified in his soft, cotton sleep clothes and—oh.

“…Hungry,” he finally says sheepishly, right as you notice it: That jar he clutches close, and the glinting, metal prongs of a fork, both held in his free hand.

You’re still tipsy—have to be—because it’s cute. Really fucking cute and the raspiest giggle breaks loose at the sight of him and his not-so-midnight snack.

Poor thing must think your laughter malicious, the way his thin frown screws deeper, his brows drawn low and fraught. “I heard you move, but I didn’t know—”

You shush him, hearing that agitated pitch in his voice pick up, and offer him your sleepiest, most lopsided smile. “It’s alright,” you whisper, lips loose in these candid hours, “I don’t think you’re a creep. I actually think you’re nice, sometimes.” You turn up a palm by way of showing him proof, but even you can hardly see the pink pucker of healed skin. “My hands are doing better now, by the way.” He’ll just have to take your word for it.

His bowed mouth softens. The rest of him does too. He lets out slow the breath he’s been holding, some of it as a huff of a laugh. “I’m glad.” Shoulders sag and, by the tilt of them, he’s leaning hard against his cane, just as tired as you.

You wish it’d be right to ask him to sit with you a while, to talk and twine yourself around him, to drift asleep like that, with someone soft and warm and real to hold fast to.

You shiver visibly—from the cold, nothing else—and draw your arms to yourself. For fucks sake, do they not have heat?

Viktor reads you easily for the miserable ball of frigid, tucked limbs you’re becoming. Gentle as he asks, “Would you like another blanket?”

You nod and agree with nothing more than a ‘please.’ Have to wait until his back is turned and he’s walking through the kitchen to bite down on a smitten little smile.

Back down the hallway he goes, and you just can’t leave well enough alone.

Fleet-footed in your mismatched socks, the only thing standing between you and icicle toes, you slip off the couch and creep down the hall. Quiet, trying to blend in with the ambient sounds of the house, because he certainly meant for you to wait behind, but you don’t want to. Not when the warm yellow light of Viktor’s room is so coaxing, so curious.

You sneak up on tiptoes to lean your shoulder against the frame of his open door. Hold yourself tightly in that oversized t-shirt as you teeter on the cusp of stepping through and knowing to stop. But in or out, it matters little. You see plenty enough just peeking inside.

Oh, goodness.

You suck in your lips to stop from laughing at the reality of it all—at yourself, for what you’d imagined in passing when you wondered about him. Whyever had you thought he’d be a neat and tidy thing, all clean lines and sophistication?

He’s nothing of the sort.

And something about that is so very reassuring. It humanizes him, the cluttered, cozy mess he lives in. All modest, mismatched furniture and too many cups; crumpled papers overflowing the trashcan and clothes discarded in heaps on the deep red slavic rug. Some might consider it an eyesore, threadbare and fraying at an edge, but it’s charming in its own way. Brings a warmth to the room that feels deeply familiar—reminds you of reading long into the night by lamplight or waking up slow on a dark, foggy morning. Makes you want to curl up on the coffee stained blanket draped over his bed and listen to him talk and stay for a while.

The empty pickle jar, on the other hand, does not. You can only romanticize so much.

But ultimately, you stay your judgment. Looking at the two framed degrees above his desk, those lone wall hangings, you remember what it looks like to let other things in life slip when academics take precedence. You look at the long tank set up on a low bookshelf, and see proof that he’s perfectly capable of keeping tidy when it’s important and he cares enough. And he cares about Rio, that much is clear.

You only wish that could extend to himself.

Your attention keeps drifting back to it, though—that large and lovely terrarium beside his desk. Verdant and pristine, it’s the true centerpiece of his room. You know well what it contains. Know that you want to look inside and see for yourself the little creature he tends to. Know that all you have to do is ask and the worst he could say might be later.

You pitch your gravelly voice sweet as you can manage, and hope you sound hard to deny. Toeing at the threshold, you ask, “Can I go look at her? Please?”

Oblivious to your lurking as he digs in vain through his storage closet, Viktor startles and swears beneath his breath, but not any word you know. The helplessness of you standing there, seeing everything—he stares at you from beneath furrowed brows, studying you with a searching sort of frustration.

You prepare to be sent away.

Prepare and say, “Never mind, forget I asked... I’ll go,” because it’d feel better to leave of your own free will than be so shamefully cast out. You keep your chin up, even if you can’t keep the disappointment out of your voice; even if you can’t stop yourself from nervously fidgeting with the edge of your t-shirt sleeve, waiting for a response.

Something falls into place for him, tracking the play of your fingers. The dejection on his face gives you whiplash, confusing when he suddenly looks so hurt, but however could you have caused that? It comes and goes in the blink of an eye, so fast you must have misunderstood, tired eyes playing tricks. His shoulders finally slacken in acceptance, because embarrassed or not, he can hide nothing from you anymore. Not the used plates on his dresser or dirty laundry on the floor or coffee stained papers on his desk. You’ve seen it all.

“No, it’s… It’s fine,” he sighs. “You may.”

You shoot him a thrilled smile and tiptoe across the carpet, mindful of the stabby little paperclips tangled into the edge. Creep up cautiously to the tank like you might scare her away, but find yourself an I Spy adventure instead, wherein you need to find the gecko and she’s masterfully hidden. You assumed she’d be nocturnal, or even just easy to spot, but all is still in that tank. He’s provided plentiful nooks and rocky outcroppings to hide in—she has her pick. You busy yourself peering into each one, looking for the same little lizard you’d seen in his picture. To no avail, but ever persistent, you keep trying.

Eventually, Viktor draws up beside you, on your knees with the thought that searching at ground level might work. He hands you down a plush, plaid blanket, crudely folded, but you can’t resist shaking it open and pulling it snugly around yourself with a pleased little hum of thanks. You could’ve melted on the spot into the coziest puddle when you realize just how thickly it smells of him. How much you like what he smells like beneath their laundry detergent—warm and earthen and completely his own. You cross it securely, tuck it into the crooks of your elbows, and notice the edge of an old stain.

“If you look there—” He points with one long finger, “—Behind the wide leaf, on the outside of that cave. That’s the tip of her tail.”

You scoot a little closer, craning up slightly to see, and… Oh! She’s very well hidden in a shadow, wedged between the mossy textured cave he pointed out and a rock formation, shaded by a plant like a little fort of her own. Odd spot. “Is she stuck?”

“No. She just favors that spot when she’s shedding,” he says, pointing out a few flecks of shed still littering the ground. “Ah, watch...”

Her tail is gone. The plant is moving, a subtle rustle, until a little pink snout emerges first. She ambles out—a slow reveal of her odd self. Very odd. You really hadn’t looked at the picture of her long enough to notice the strange, nodular growths toward the back of her head, or the fact that she isn’t pink skinned so much as a flushed albino. It lets you see the blue of her organs beneath. Bigger than expected, she crawls right up to the glass with those unblinking eyes, deepest red, and simply watches. Waits, like she expects something. You didn’t think a lizard could be so responsive.

Transfixed, you blurt, “Can I hold her?” before you think better of it. You double down on it, though, as you turn up your most pleading look at him.

He seizes tight and tense with indecision. Those tired amber eyes tick from you to Rio, jaw working at the words—yes or no or whatever’s in between. He breaks in a defeated sigh when her tiny tongue pokes out, like she’s smiling at you.

You smile back.

“If she’s agreeable, I suppose...”

You find out what agreeable means when he lifts the grate and sticks his hand in, palm up. She clambers on without hesitation and he lifts her out gingerly, cradling her close. With a tilt of his chin, he tells you to, “Sit, please,” in the chair at his desk.

You get to your feet and go to it easily. Sit and wait patiently for him to wade closer, looking for all the world like he’s going to hand you a tiny piece of his heart and it terrifies him.

“You don’t have to do this,” you assure him gently, caring more for his feelings than the selfish urge to hold Rio, but he shakes his head, resolute.

“Hold her with two hands, and do not pull at the shedding skin. If she makes you uncomfortable, say so and I will take her, yes?”

“Yes,” you echo, holding out your cupped hands.

You grow the most spellbound little smile when he puts his hand in yours, coaxing her in pretty, lilting words you don’t understand until she turns herself around and steps into your hands on tiny clawed feet. You could swear, truly swear, that the back of his forefinger brushes the shiny new skin on your palm intentionally, but your thinking always trends wishful at this time of night. It’s only him sliding his hand out from under Rio as she drags her belly’s dry skin over yours, settling in comfortably against the heat of your hand.

Viktor hovers close, casting an uneasy shadow that doesn’t lift. You look up into his face, reassuring, but find him wide-eyed and utterly fixated on where Rio is cradled, hands in your lap. He can turn pink in the face, so it seems, and you worry for how stressful it must be to trust you to hold her. “I can give her back,” you offer, and his eyes snap to yours.

The flush on his face deepens. “No!” he says quickly, stepping back a few paces, “No, I—This is fine. She is happy.”

Springs give in a soft creak as he sinks down on the edge of his bed, messier than you remembered walking in. He sits there quietly with his hands in his lap. You feel the sudden saccharine grip of longing as you realize it. The blanket with the old coffee stain that’d been layered over the quilt, his that he’d been using—he gave you that one.

And if it’s true of Rio, that she’s happy in this moment, you know a little something about that too.

You’re comfortable in his company; comfortable with the silence as you stroke a crooked finger down her back, but you just have to know. “So…” You cant your head conspiratorially. “You stole her?”

“You remembered?” The laugh he huffs is almost disbelieving. “That’s a long story.”

This night isn’t infinite, sure, but you have time. What’s another hour when you’re already fucked for the workout you promised Caitlyn in the morning?

You scoot closer—close as the wheels of the chair will take you before they catch in the drape of your blanket. Close enough that you can reach out with your socked foot and playfully nudge at his good leg to get him to look up and look you in the eye. So that he will know you sincere when you say, “Tell me anyways?”

And so, with a honey soft gaze that often falls to Rio and reminiscence in the lilt of his voice, he does. Viktor freely tells you everything.

None of it is what you expected. Not even close.

Now, to be fair, your imagination hadn’t been that creative. You expected a story about how he stole her from somewhere like a sad, run down pet store. Not someone like a disgraced pharmaceutical scientist with a lab in his basement and a questionable interest in exotic reptiles. That he may or may not have experimented on, but Viktor leaves that vague and, frankly, you don’t want to know.

It’s hard to voice any questions at all when you’re so stunned speechless, picturing an awkward, lanky, brilliant teenage Viktor employed by that man to scrape together college tuition. A lonely teenage Viktor who bonded with something as small and insignificant as a forgotten little gecko, kept in a dull, cramped tank. An opportunistic teenage Viktor who saw his chance one night and took it. Crafty thing, he loosed one of the snakes, fed it a frozen mouse, and smuggled Rio home in his sweatshirt pocket. Set it up perfectly so that it would appear as if she’d been eaten, and even replaced the missing mouse in the morning in case Singed—what a name—suspected anything and counted. He didn’t. And in the end, when his grandmother let him keep her, they lived happily ever after.

At least, that’s how you’d conclude it, with your rose tinted glasses.

He laughs that lovely, quiet laugh of his when you say as much.

The way she looks at you when you hold her up at eye level, it dawns on you why he loved her enough to take her. It’s all in the eyes, something about them so intelligent and unfathomably kind—something you’d expect out of a warm-blooded mammal, not a reptile. And the fluttering beat of her tiny heart, you can feel it against your skin.

How could you hold something so small and precious, a life in your hands, and not want to protect it?

You are simply besotted with her; with his love of her and the lengths he would go because it speaks to something vulnerable and deeply empathetic in him. Something that draws you in.

All of him draws you in, and you aren’t thinking straight. You’re glad to be holding Rio, so very, very glad, because otherwise you might do something stupid. Might close the distance, crawl into his lap and see if he takes to it. Kiss the bow of his mouth if he does; let him run his hands up your bare thighs and learn that you have shorts tucked up under your t-shirt if he grows bold enough to take a handful of you. Thank god for Rio, that she won’t let you make that mistake. Your heart couldn’t take it if he pushed you away, and, well, isn’t that the most likely outcome?

Really, stupid girl, it is.

Just because he can be kind, as any other decent person can be kind, doesn’t mean he’s interested. And there’s nothing to suggest that he might be! He hardly likes to look at you, only touches you when it’s unavoidable. There stands a harrowing chance that this sad little crush you’re nurturing is entirely one-sided. That you will fall back asleep tonight thinking of him, while he won’t spare another thought for you after you leave this room.

You’re spiraling. Drowsy, too, and your eyes feel heavy. You need to go back to bed.

He needs to go back to bed, if his indiscreet yawn is anything to go by. You can take a hint.

“I should, um, get back…” Yawn for emphasis, you mimic him. “To sleep. ‘M supposed to work out with Cait in the morning.”

“Won’t you be a little, eh, hungover?” he asks candidly, getting up to tenderly scoop Rio out of your hands.

“I drank a lot of water, and I only had a drink and a half—really!” you pout when he looks skeptical. “You’d know that if you went with us.”

You know exactly what he’s going to say. Could mock him in that exact dismissive tone of voice when he says, “I was busy,” as he puts Rio carefully back.

As you stand on tingly legs and walk to the door, dragging the blanket behind you like some childish cape, he clears his throat.

“I didn’t realize you would be going, though.”

…What?

Your heart is fit to choke you, the way it swells. Have to draw the blanket tighter around you, like it might keep you grounded. You can barely get out saying, “There’s, um… There’s always next time,” with that cottony tongue of yours, because it feels for a moment like you’re walking in another lucid dream. One in which Viktor goes willingly to spend time around you, whatever that means.

“Next time,” he echos, “yes.”

You say your goodnights after that. Close his door for him, and wade back out into the strange ambient silence of near five in the morning. You miss him immediately, but it’s stupid and desperate and you try to put it out of your mind. You dutifully wash your hands in the dark kitchen sink—per his last instruction, something about safe reptile handling—and curl back onto the couch when you’re done.

You fall asleep faster than you ever have before, hopelessly lulled by the comfort of his blanket snuggled soft against your cheek and the memory of his voice. Deeper and dreamless, finally warm.

—

You lock eyes on some distant speck on the ceiling, Vi’s head of sweaty, pink hair is blurry as she peers down at you from above. Watching. Waiting.

You grit your teeth, determined to get in two more reps before you need her, a second pair of hands, to help rack the weight.

“Hey—breathe,” she reminds you.

Yes, you realize distantly, your lungs burn tight and painful from the breath you’re holding in. She’s right, you need to, but it’s hard to control. Breathing technique: The bane of your existence, your greatest enemy.

You let it out, long and fraught, drawing breath back in through your nose. In and out; a rhythm. Keep it steady, you think as you steel your resolve and swiftly push the bar up. You lock out your elbows at the top, which is a poor choice—bad practice and it hurts like hell.

Attentive, Vi takes the wince on your face for a prompt, and you’re grateful for it. She grabs the bar, ready to catch it if your arms buckle or to guide it back into place on the rack—whichever happens first.

Neither of which do because flagging though you are, you have one more rep in you.

Breathing harder, faster, losing patience and control, you drop the bar a good two inches from your chest. Clearly struggling, but you’re in the right space to embrace that. You never feel judged for trying when you’re here, even when you fail.

But you won’t. Can’t let yourself believe that it’s a possibility. Not when you’re still riding the high of last night.

Caitlyn shouts something encouraging from the treadmill—hard to hear over the music and her feet pounding against the belt. Vi won’t let go of the bar. Her bruised up knuckles grip it firmly, though she bears none of the weight.

You almost wish she would. For a split second, doubt creeps back in and makes you think you aren’t going to push it back up again. But with a guttural sound, arms on fire, jaw clenched, you rally the last of your strength and thrust it upward. Your back doesn’t arch off the bench when you do—nearly perfect form exhausted as you are, numb as you feel.

Your voice is somewhere between a groan and a hiss as you offload the bar, calling it a stupid fucking motherfucker as you do. Eloquent, as usual, when you spend too much time around Vi with all her colorful language. And you’ve been around her all morning, ever since you woke up from a dead sleep to her poking your shoulder and dragging the blanket off you when you tried to pull it up over your head.

Can’t say you regret staying up so late, though.

No, all morning you felt electric. Got up and brushed your teeth with your finger, put your sneakers on and knotted Jayce’s too big t-shirt at your waist because you couldn’t bear to take it off yet, the way it smelled faintly like Viktor now. Transferred all that giddy energy into working hard, hoping it might distract you from the rising urge to tell somebody, anybody about what happened last night. About why it made you feel so fucking transcendant.

‘I didn’t realize you would be going.’

God, you can’t stop thinking about it, turning it over and over and over again in your head, each time choosing to be hopeful about what he meant. Still, you want a second opinion. Want to tell Caitlyn specifically, because she has a tried and true talent for figuring people out. Want to, and you’re going to after the three of you finish, and Vi is safely out of earshot.

Peeling yourself off the bench to sit and catch your breath, you find your palms studded with tiny diamond shapes. Sweat drips out of your hairline, down your face and the nape of your neck. When you swipe at your forehead, your arms are wobblier than when you started. And Vi, she claps your shoulder and gives you a firm shake from behind.

“Knew you had it in you,” she says, and you bat her away with a grin that grows from shy to sure. Don’t always know what to do with compliments, but Vi gives them so freely. She has a way of making you believe them, and today you really want to.

Pooling sweat and out of patience for it, you pull your t-shirt off over your head. Use it to scrub the sweat from your face and neck and arms, and then just… leave it on the bench.

If Vi can always do it, so can you. You can finish this workout wearing just a sports bra and feel good about yourself. Why the hell not?

Right… Because it’s embarrassing. That’s why, you remember, as Vi lets out a low whistle. Has you hiding your face in your hands, but you smile into them because the attention is ultimately harmless and a little funny coming from her.

Which only serves to spur her on the rest of the morning. All fun and games until you’re doing kettlebell swings, squatting low to create enough momentum on the upswing, and she shouts, “Caked up!” out of nowhere, so loud that the weight slips your sweaty grip when you startle. You’re lucky for the angle, that it only skids across the floor and doesn’t lodge into the drywall. Lucky enough that you can afford to laugh until it splits your sides and you have to sit down on the bench to catch your breath, eyes watering.

“Alright,” Caitlyn scolds, hopping down off the treadmill. Though she definitely thinks it’s funny too, the way she fights to stay serious. “I think you’ve taken it far enough.”

“Relax, we’re just having fun,” Vi croons. Gestures to you as she says, “She’s been working so hard, I think she deserves to know how fine she’s looking.” Vi passes by to grab her water, making sure to smack a loud kiss on Caitlyn’s sweaty cheek on the way. “So do you, Cupcake.”

“Gross,” Cait mutters; rolls her eyes but cracks a smile that makes you doubt she really thinks so. She grabs her phone and towel; wipes both the sweat and her girlfriend’s sloppy kiss off her face as she comes to sit on the bench adjacent. “She’s right though, we’ve all noticed a change. You should be proud.”

There’s a long list of notifications on her screen when she wakes it—probably work, and it splits her attention.

“I guess I am,” you say, feeling bashful. “It’s just hard to see it day to day.”

“Just means we need to keep telling you,” Vi shrugs. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

“And you’re taking one for the team, is that it?” you tease, taking a long, well earned draw from your water. It’s warm, but it goes down easy.

“Hey, woah, I’m more than happy to tell you what a catch you are. Full homo. You look like that and, I mean, we’re all thinking it: How the hell has no one snapped you up?”

Easy answer. “Oh, let’s see… That would be because all my friends are in relationships, and Tinder is a cesspit. The options haven’t been great.”

Vi cracks her knuckles with an audible crunch, on a tangent and can’t reign herself back in. “Listen, we had the perfect setup to fix that for you, but—”

Caitlyn tunes back in, eyes wide. “Violet,” she snaps in that warning tone, but that only makes it click. You’re smart. You can connect the dots.

When Jayce said he could see you getting along with Viktor. When he’d asked you to go easy on him—oh, you’d failed that fucking test and kicked yourself in the teeth when you said he wasn’t your type. When Jayce, loose-lipped, implied he’d been talking to Caitlyn about you. About more than just your search for a new gym. And now, here’s Violet telling you that a setup had indeed been discussed.

Holy shit. It’s an entire conspiracy.

And more than that? You have a chance.

You hold up a hand. “Wait, wait, wait,” you say, putting on your best look of suspicion to mask how utterly giddy you feel at the thought of getting exactly what you want—what you’d been secretly hoping for. “Does this have anything to do with you telling Jayce that Viktor is, um, my type?”

Caitlyn purses her lips, but can’t hide her guilty posture.

“Busted…” Vi whispers, which doesn’t help matters. Only gives you the confirmation you so desperately crave.

But not the answer you want.

“I’m sorry…” says Caitlyn, so gently. And it's true, she is, like it breaks her heart a little to tell you:

“He wasn’t interested.”

#arcane #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #viktor x f!reader #arcane fanfiction #reader insert #my writing #amazing how i forgot to actually tag this until 4 days later #cringe fail of me

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sarahscribbles · 1 year

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It might be Valentine's Day this week, but tomorrow is the vastly superior Galentine's Day and I couldn't let it pass without showing all my amazing computer friends how important you all are to me. I'm so grateful for you all and the porn we all share together. It warms my heart like nothing else.

I've written you all a lil something because I love you all so, so much

Love, Saz 💕

@cake-writes I begrudgingly recognise that you are a pal, even if you bully me relentlessly. My only issue is that you live so far away in upside down land so I can't see your eccentric gay ass in person. You have been an amazing friend to me over the past year and helped me through some really dark times. Talking with you makes my day and any time we don't talk for whatever reason, I'm always by my phone like "I miss Bri." I love you so much and I hope you feel it all the way in Oz.

@the-lady-amphitrite Amphi, you know how much I adore you. I can't go a single day without speaking to you and I wouldn't ever want to. I don't know what I did to deserve you as a friend, but I am giving thanks to the universe that our paths crossed. You are unhinged, but in the best way that I would never want to change. You listen to me be a whore 99.9% of the time (and also in the other 0.1% where I'm ranting/crying/exploding over something completely unrelated), and I get to be one of the first people to hear what goes on in that whorish brain of yours. You are a joy to know and I wouldn't choose anyone else to be an unhinged whore with.

@muertawrites My OG Tumblr pal. The one and only first friend. I would be lost without you always in my corner and always encouraging me to be the best whore I can be. You're always ready to drop everything to listen to me vent about my Latest Problem and I don't tell you enough how much I appreciate it. You are so strong and so amazing and damn if I'm not lucky to have someone like you on the other end of a DM while we go through the horrors of figuring out our 20s. I love you so much!

@muddyorbsblr One of my New Friend Recruits that I'm endlessly grateful for. Talking with you is like being wrapped in a warm blanket while drinking hot chocolate. You're absolutely an enabler but I wouldn't have it any other way! You're so encouraging with my porn even though it's killed you multiple times and I appreciate your dedication to the cause. You never fail to provide the filth and I thank you for that. You're hilarious and fantastic and talented and I'm so glad I get to call you my friend!

@cheekyscamp AYOOO my fellow rear enthusiast! You are also completely unhinged daily in my DMs but I actively encourage this! And the talent you possess?! Outstanding! You have a freaking heart of gold and Lord am I glad you decided you wanted to interact with my dumb ass! I love whoring out with you even if I do lose a little bit of my sanity each time. I can't wait to see what this friendship brings!

@springdandelixn My Beans! You are just all round amazing and talented and fierce and I love you so, so much. You've listened to all my silly vents without complaint and been the voice of reason every single time that's saved me from spiralling and making a mountain out of a molehole. I don't know what I would do without you! You're always ready to throw hands on my account and I want to send you the biggest, tightest hug for being on my side. Keep on moosin'!

@joyful-enchantress Steph, my love! You've been with me since almost day one of my Loki days and I'm so glad of it! I don't think you have a bad bone in your body, and I am so infinitely grateful for all the support you've given me (including photos of London when I've been feeling down)! I always love talking with you and hearing the filthy ideas that come out of your head, and I'm so thankful that you decided to start writing and let us see how talented you are! You're a wonderful person inside and out!

@mochie85 Mochie, you are a delight! Honestly, I couldn't find one bad thing to say about you if someone paid me to. You are endlessly supportive and uplifting and beautiful and so damn talented! How did I get so lucky to have so many talented friends? You're someone I look up to and try to be like - effortlessly kind and just an all round good egg. I love you so much, my dear!!

@give-me-a-moose Cas, I love you so much. You might not know it, but HoC got me out of such a bad writing slump last year, so I credit you with the filth that followed! You have been so supportive both with my writing and with other shit that's been going on and I can't thank you enough for everything you've done for me! I know I keep parroting this, but you're amazing and I'm so lucky to have you as a friend. You can make me laugh so easily and reading about your work escapades always puts me in a good mood (praying that you find your museum dad soon)!

@lokisgoodgirl I know we only talk sporadically and briefly (and even then it hasn't been without some bumps), but it's plain as day that you have a good heart (and an equally filthy mind that we're all thankful for). You're the reason I've met so many wonderful people on here and I'm so thankful for it. I can only hope that there are no more bumps along the way because you're the type of person that everyone needs in their life. (Though I'm still going to beat you at that dance off).

@fictive-sl0th Camille, you are without a doubt one of the kindest souls I have ever met. You are a human rainbow! Anytime I see you in my notifications my mood increases by 110% because I know it's going to be something that will make me smile (something you have never yet failed to do)! I want to bottle you up and keep you with me all the time! You're wonderful and talented and a little ray of light in so many people's lives!

@simplyholl You've been in my notifications from almost day one of the Loki shenanigans so I've considered you a friend for a very long time! I don't know how someone can be equal parts incredibly sweet and a complete whore but you manage to do it perfectly! You've also supported me through so much shit and I can't thank you enough for it. I'm sending you a massive hug (I'd send you Loki if I could) for everything you've done for me over the past ? years. You are a wonderful human being!

@maple-seed Maple, you are also completely unhinged and I adore it. You make me laugh so much and when your name pops up in the server my first thought is "oh yeah this gonna be good!" You're another New Friend Recruit that I'm glad to have in the ranks! You deserve all the good things (because you are a good thing) and I love you so much!

@loopsisloops I freaking adore you, Loops! You keep me feeling young and hip, but also prevent the whore in me from dying with all the thirst traps and photos you never run out of! You're a sweetheart with a heart of gold and I hope everyone in your life knows how amazing you are. (If they treat you than anything less than amazing I will fight them)!

@kinky-faerie I am so glad you have managed to find your way into my corner of this hellsite. You are full of filth and I wouldn't have it any other way! I love nothing more than checking this app first thing in the morning and seeing your name in my inbox because I know it's going to set the horny mood for the rest of the day! You are my favourite kinky lil fairy!

@lokiprompts You are so strong and amazing I can't put it into proper words. You never fail to be positive and supportive and every compliment you've given me has made me grin like a complete idiot. I hope you get all the love you deserve and all the love you put out into the universe because you deserve it tenfold!

@coldnique Girl, you are just all kinds of lovely! You have such a kind heart and I couldn't find one bad thing to say about you. You're always popping up with your hilarious comments when I need a little bit of a mood booster and my day instantly improves! I'm so freaking grateful that you're one of my Regulars now and just know that I adore you!!

@holymultiplefandomsbatman my fellow sub!Loki enthusiast! You are a delight to know and an amazing friend to have. Your mind is wonderful as are you as a person! You are so incredibly smart and capable and I wish you knew that! I'll tell you every single day if I have to. There's nothing you can't do and I fully believe you are going to shake the world! How you manage to find time to write such amazing filth while also being a bad bitch getting your degree is beyond me and I bow to you! You are going to do amazing things, I have no doubt! I love you so incredibly much and I can't wait to see what amazing filth that brain of yours comes up with next!

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original-character-championship · 1 year

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Bracket C Round 1

Poll 20

Dahlia (@the-brolliologist) vs. Mave Chevalian Kaard (@bonetrix-arts)

167. Dahlia (@the-brolliologist)

She/he

She has the most transgender himbo swag. She's short, she's annoying, and she's down to commit atrocities. The embodiment of be gay, do crime. Horrific fashion sense; has a mullet, probably wears sandals with socks. Has a hot eldritch wife and is in the process of getting herself a boyfriend. Has died 5+ times. 11/10 hottest person alive.

Short Latina person with dyed turquoise hair. Cool face scars, and very muscular B) Has a new pair of sunglasses on for every day of the week.

168. Mave Chevalian Kaard (@bonetrix-arts)

He/Him

He just an evil little guy who's secretly very insecure!! He's so silly!! What a goober, he's committing atrocities!!!

7'1 lanky man, still slightly muscular (though you wouldn't be able to tell at first glance). He has light purpley-pink skin and royal blue hair that appears not to conform to gravity. His eyes are offwhite with glowing white pupils and long eyelashes that extend well past his pointy ears. He typically sports a sinister smile on his long face. His usual outfit consists of a black tank top with a light blue diamond across the center, flowing long purple coat with a gold button, tight white pants held high on his waist by a thick black belt with a gold heart buckle, and light blue thigh length high heeled boots. He typically carries himself with an air of confidence and poise, acting as if everyone is below him and undeserving of his presence.

#oc championship #tournament poll #round 1 #bracket c #167 dahlia #168 mave chevalian kaard

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mrsmiagreer · 10 months

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top 10 redacted characters and why (if you have reasoning) GO

This is the best thing anyone’s ever asked me

Milo Greer. He’s funny, He has an accent, he’s confident, you can tell he’s strong just from the sound of his voice, he’s chivalrous, says I love you literally whenever he feels like it, good caring loving sex, makes me feel safe.

Guy. Talks a lot, makes me laugh, silly, cute, can cook😫, loves loves loves kisses, apparently kinky, carefree, wholesome, corny, hoodie thief

David Shaw. “I can change him” but i actually did. Caring. Can cook SUPER GOOD. Kissy. Brave, leader, bossman. Sexy. Deep voice. FUCKING HUGE. Money, such an adult.

Lasko Moore. CUUUTTTEEEEE, stuttery, kinda shy. BOSSMAN GETS SHIT DONE. loves his job. Sweet. Wholesome, kind, ride or die, always wants to leave the best impression. Smartie pants professor.

Vincent. Hot. Immortal. Can dress, owns a crown, gentleman. FANGS. Pulls out the chair for you at the dining table. Sincere. Always apologizing even for things that he himself didn’t do. Always working to be better. Loves with all his heart. CAR GUY. sweet tooth. Loves kissing. Competitive.

Damien. HOTTER. ripped asf, big muscles. Doesn’t take shit. Advocate for what’s right. Mouth does wonders. Not ashamed of being gay. Always thinks he’s too hot but he’s really the right temperature. Caring, source of comfort. Sarcastic.

Gavin. Sex God. Knows all the weak spots. Very very kissy, Horndog. Baker! Good father figure. Comfort source, Gives me butterflies, Makes me feel like he can and will protect me. Powerful. Hot Hot Hot.

Blake. Sexy. Possessive. Protective, would let the world burn if it meant my happiness. Cares for me unlike anyone else. Villain, but with intent to save a life. Sarcastic. Charming. Manipulative, and sadly effective. I Just know his tongue does wonders.

Avior. Tall, really tall. Beautiful vocabulary. Loves with everything in him, Feels all the feelings. Strong. Deserves a 10x better life. Can create lakes of gold. Finds romance in the most painful circumstances. I Feel safe.

Geordi. Sweet. Doesn’t deserve the hurt he’s been through. Caring. Selfless. Knows how to set a boundary. Chef G! Ear ringing sex. Loves hard. Cute thoughts, lots of thoughts. Little bit of an overthink we but I love him for it because he’s just like me🫶🏽

#redacted asmr #redacted audio #redactedverse #redacted headcanons

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yisony07 · 1 year

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Daddy's new masked husband

A/N: The moment I publish this is January 2nd, my birthday (🎉🎂) and to celebrate with you I want to bring you this story. It's a little silly, but anyway, I hope you like it.

This is the sequel of:

Armand Stewart couldn't believe the circumstances he found himself in, and neither could Thomas Westwood, the man lying naked next to him. Among them was a mask, and on the table some wedding rings.

Let's rewind a few weeks back.

Armand had made the most of his powers with the mask going from bar to bar, until one day he met a man, more or less his age with whom he had been in awe.

Masked Armand came up to him, during the joy of the party, and took him home with him. Armand tasted of his cock and fed the man his own milk; the couple performed the act several times and Masked Armand, marveling at the man, thought for a while what he could do to keep track of him.

"ARE YOU SINGLE, BABY?" Armand asked as he penetrated the man Thomas, doggystyle. "'CAUSE MY HEART WANTS TO FOLLOW YA EVER".

"Ah… Fu… Fu… Yeah… I'm… A… Single…" Thomas replied, his mind drifting.

"WELL, I CAN SEE THE FUTURE" Thomas watched as a crystal ball appeared in front of him. "AND I SEE US TOGETHER AND HAPPY, WILL YOU MARRY ME?!" And two rings appeared where the ball used to be.

One of the strangest sensations that Thomas could feel in his life was sexual pleasure mixed with laughter at a joke. His breathing was ragged, and high-pitched moans came from his lips, both his laughter and his moans struggling to escape his lips. "Are… Ah-fu-haha… you… crazy?" managed to formulate Thomas, who already felt quite a lot of cum accumulating in him. "We… Fuck yeah… barely know… Uff… each other… fuck!"

"OH MAN, EVERYTHING ABOUT ME IS CRAZY, BABY!!" Masked Armand increased the pace of his thrust. "C-CUMMING!!" And a stream of cum shot out of Armand's penis, so much so that the masked man was shot backwards propelled by his penis, hitting the wall, not getting hurt. "FIU… THAT'S THE BEST SEX I EVER HAVE, BABE, WHADDYA SAY?!" And then he kind of passed out a little bit, with some birds circling over his head.

Thomas cummed too, and his cum stained the rings. Between gasps he watched the prone body of the masked man. To tell the truth, and despite the 'carnal' circumstances, it was the greatest physical-emotional connection he had ever had with anyone. He smiled and put on one of the rings and went and put the other on the man. As he did so, the rings emitted a green glow. Thomas lifted the body of the masked man and placed it on the bed.

"I'll see you someday, my husband" And Thomas, after cleaning himself, left, leaving the body sleeping.

(...)

"I can't believe I married a complete stranger!" Armando thought with some surprise, unable to understand the circumstances. "Stupid mask!" He was lamenting. Since that busy night, of which he did not remember much since he was pretty tired when hd transformed (the mask hit his head when he was about to sleep), he had noticed a strange change in his documents: they said that he had married a certain Thomas Westwood, whom he did not know and did not seem to have any social media. To top it off, he was wearing a green wedding ring with gold details, indicating that he had been under the effect of the mask.

Armand was in his car on his way to camp to pick up his son, Jack. A notorious blush was on his cheeks as he recalled the strange things he had done during those two months. "I hope Jack never finds out…".

He arrived at the camp and at the door he saw his son with full suitcases. The first thing he did was hug him, and then, after carrying the bags to the car, father and son made their way home. Jack would go on and on about what he did at camp, about the crafts he did, kayaking, camping outside around a wood fire eating marshmallows… So many activities the kid had done, to which Armand would give some comment of genuine interest, even though his mind wanted to wander over his situation.

"Dad… what's that ring?" Jack asked watching him. "I had never seen anything like it."

"I found it while you were gone… it has an unusual design so I decided to keep it" he lied, and Jack believed him.

"And did you remember to buy the school supplies?"

"No…" Armand whispered, astonished that he had forgotten.

"Yes! Let's go to the supermarket!"

Father and son, when they got to the city they took a little detour and went to the supermarket, where they bought the school supplies for Jack; lucky for Armand that they were on sale, because Jack asked for a lot of things, and he doubted how necessary they would be for school. Then they went back to his house, and while they were putting away the purchases, Jack remembered something.

"Dad, what happened to the mask from that time?"

"I threw it away" Armand lied again, and he felt worse. "We won't have to hear from it."

He actually had it in a drawer in his room, inaccessible to Jack, but he didn't want to know, less imagine what would happen in that case.

Father and son enjoyed the vacation time they had together, and Armand had no time to think about his supposed current husband...

In the blink of an eye the start of the school year had come and Armand, like the responsible father that he was, had taken his son to school and then returned home, where he was alone without doing much. His father, Don Stewart, had left him a fortune when she died and he realized that it was not necessary for him to work to raise his son, so he was bored, and his mind took the opportunity to ruminate. about his situation.

"Maybe if I put on the mask… No! I don't want to do another crazy thing…" he told himself. "What would Thomas think of this… And if I did run into him… What would Jack think of him?"

When you're concentrating on an idea, you can spend hours on it without noticing the passage of time, and that was what had happened to Armand when he realized he had to look for Jack. He went to school in his car and the boy got in.

"Dad, the teacher I got is amazing and funny!" said the boy.

"Really? That's weird, you're not the type to like teachers" the father joked and the boy snorted.

"But this one is different… It makes learning interesting! Just like the camp!" he said quickly. At that moment Armand started the car. "And he had a ring just like yours!"

"What?!" Armand turned suddenly in shock and they both felt a great jolt. "Sorry, son, I was… surprised…"

"Wow…" Jack took a few seconds to get settled. "But yeah, he had a ring very similar to yours. He passed the list and it came to my name and he seemed interested. At the end of class he asked about you, and I told him your name, that you didn't have much to do and that you were very lonely".

"Jack!" Armand chided, and the boy laughed. "You can't say things like that to your teacher…".

"Very late" answered the boy. "Do you want to know his name? He seemed interested in you…"

"What is?" Armando asked, feeling his chest tighten, and he feared for his son's next words.

"Thomas Westwood"

"Shit" thought the father, and they arrived at his house.

Being the first day, Jack hadn't been given homework, so he went to play immediately. Armand, more concerned, went to his room and lay down on his bed while he looked at the drawer where he had kept the mask.

"Magically married to my son's teacher… Fucking mask."

From that day on, Armand tried to bring and pick up his son early. It was such a strange situation and he didn't know how to handle it, so he avoided it. Thomas, as his son's teacher, used any excuse to call him and talk, but Armand dodged him, but Armand couldn't help it for long, and the moment came when, after Jack's first exams, where the grades from the first term, Thomas was forced to attend the Stewart house for a parent-teacher conference, since Armand failed to show up at school, something Jack had reported to his father.

And Armand was there, nervous, not knowing how to deal with the moment. Jack was there too, unaware of his father's thoughts. At Friday sunset, the doorbell rang and Jack opened the door. There was his teacher, whom he invited in. When he arrived in the room, Armand saw him and was fascinated. Not only because of the hot daddy who was in front of him, but because of the memories of that night that made him undress Thomas with his mind.

"Not now, Armand" he told himself as he felt his bulge. "Not in front of your son…" And he was relieved that it wasn't noticeable.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Stewart" Thomas greeted, extending his hand. Armand saw the ring, just like his own, just as his son had described it. Armand returned the greeting immediately. "You've been ignoring my attempts to contact him, but since we're face to face, we have a lot to talk about." Thomas emphasized 'a lot'.

"Yes, come on, make yourself comfortable here" Armand said pointing to a seat in the living room. The two men and the boy sat down and Thomas began to talk about Jack's behavior in class.

"I must confess that at first I didn't think he would do so well… he tends to move a lot and interrupt from time to time, but generally he is a good boy" explained the teacher. "Look at his grades, he has done excellent."

"That's my boy!" commented Armando smiling proudly, and Jack smiled as well.

The men continued their chatter, and Armand could see that Thomas was quite friendly, the kind of person who took the time and patience to help each boy individually. After the school conference was over, Thomas was about to say goodbye, but Armand stopped him.

"Don't you want… It dunno… stay here for dinner? We ordered pizza, in case you want to join us" said Armand. "And we could… talk, you know."

"Talk about what, dad? I thought this was just about school" Jack said confused.

"Adults have private business to attend to, Jack," Thomas explained. "I don't really have much to do so I could stay for dinner, although it would be unprofessional…" Armand gently removed Thomas' tie and laid it on the seat. Some attraction-affection was burning.

"The three of us could play the Wii together!" said the boy excitedly. "After dinner pizza, sure, please say yes, Mr. Westwood…"

The two adults laughed at the boy's witticisms and then looked at each other, a little dazed, and looked away blushing. Thomas, Armand, and Jack ate pizza that night while the adults chatted, knowing each other better (of course, censoring themselves in front of the kid) and making their circumstances clear. Anyone who saw them would say it was a good family atmosphere. After eating, the three of them began to play. The laughter of the adults at the orders of Jack, who was frustrated when a pitiful Armand and a little experienced Thomas constantly lost the New Super Mario Bros Wii. They spent hours playing before Jack yawned, a sign that he should sleep, and it was Thomas who read the story to make the boy snore.

Once they were sure that the boy was asleep, they closed the door and the pair of men went to Armand's room, where he witnessed the events that brought them together.

"Okay… could you show me the mask?" Thomas asked. Armand thought after explaining the whole thing that he, Thomas, would be upset, disgusted, or surprised, but he seemed rather intrigued. "The next day I was amazed to see that all my documents said that he was married to you since that night and it was really crazy…"

"Uh…" Armand wasn't sure what to say. "Yes, here it is…" Armand went to the drawer and took out the object.

"Wow," Thomas said, mask in hand.

"And what do you make of the fact that we're… you know… married to the law?"

Thomas looked deeply into Armand's eyes before answering. "It doesn't really change much about my life, although maybe I was alone so long that I got desperate" he paused to laugh bitterly "so I really don't care that much, I mean, if you want to try" And at that moment he settled on the bed.

Armand blushed and felt the hard bulge of him. "Of course… my dear"

Thomas stretched and yawned. "I'm sorry, but working with children is difficult; your son will be a good student, but all the boys together… A disaster"

Armand laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. "I imagine, and Jack on his account can be exhausting, but now we will share his presence, so I don't feel alone." Thomas and Armand laughed together again. "Excuse me a bit, I'll go pee…" Armand warned.

"Okay" Thomas said and watched as Armand went to the bathroom in the room, leaving him alone with the mask. "What strange things happen to one in life, right?" And he stared at the back of the mask. "So you put us in this situation, could you help us then?" And he laughed again. "Supposedly speaking to a mask…".

Thomas hadn't realized that the mask was emitting a green glow, much less that it was very close to him. The mask seemed to want to get his attention and, at the most unexpected moment, the mask took on a more rubbery texture, came to life and jumped onto his face.

"What the…?!" Thomas yelled, and this alerted Armand, who quickly rushed out of the bathroom to a scene that made him feel things. The mask slowly extended tentacles that advanced across Thomas's face.

(Thanks to @kermit43 for this edited pic)

Armand felt the urge to massage his own nipples. The grunts Thomas made, the way the mask took control of his head, the way his eyes seemed to bulge out of their sockets, and the way Thomas's body writhed under its influence was a sight that aroused feelings in him, similar as if he was watching a porn movie, so when Thomas yelled for help (a yell that turned into moans), Armand did nothing, letting the mask encircle his head.

"Fuck…" both men moaned at the same time. Thomas felt electrical pulses running through his body. It was painful, but he was enjoying it too and he didn't hide the moans from him. His body was changing little by little, it creaked every second and it was a difficult sensation to process. His arms, his legs, his abdomen. He felt like he was going to explode, and that magical feeling increased as he massaged his new formed pecs. Magic was taking over him, and it fed on his desires. A green gas billowed from the mask and covered Thomas's body, and when it dissipated, Armand had to stop himself from cumming at that moment.

The first thing the figure did was touch his ring, which caused a current to emerge from Armand's ring that affected his entire body and made him moan. Armand was salivating; the figure approached him with his smile and placed its greenish, full lips on those of Armand, who immediately reciprocated. They didn't care much how his saliva mixed and escaped from his mouth; their only interest was to be able to feel the other's lips on his. Masked Thomas's hands passed over Armand's body and, in no time at all, they were undressed. Without stopping kissing, and groping their bodies, feeling each other's warmth and with kisses that meant more than words, they stayed in bed. Armand had the perfect view of Thomas's body.

"YOUR SON HAS BEEN AN EXCELLENT STUDENT, BUT IT SEEMS TO ME THAT THE FATHER STILL REQUIRES...SPECIFIC ATTENTION" Masked Thomas said of Armand. "NOW IT'S MY TURN TO GIVE YOU A SPECIAL TOOL" his huge cock with a green glans was there, waiting to make that hole his own.

"But what about Jack…" Armand asked, staring into those hypnotic red eyes.

Masked Thomas drew a sign representing blocked sound and placed it above the door. "DONE, SO NOTHING WILL BE HEARD… WE CAN SCREAM AS MUCH AS WE WANT, SWEETHEART! AND BE THE HUSBAND AND HUSBAND WE'RE SUPPOSED TO BE…" And the couple gave free rein to their desires.

#loki mask transformation #he-mask #the mask #the mask transformation #themask #male tf #male transformation #gay transformation #gay

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supercantaloupe · 9 months

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don giovanni at wolf trap opera! this is long <3

right to the top of my list of don giovanni productions! while it does not take the place of my absolute favorite this was a REALLY solid production that i THOROUGHLY enjoyed; it might just be my new second place! desperately wish it was recorded for streaming or at the very least not a one-night-only performance but alas, at least i get to feel special about having been able to see it at all. director john de los santos you will always be famous to ME

the orchestra was definitely lacking some of the Oomph i really love in a good live performance but i think this is purely do to the acoustics of the theater being open air rather than the fault of like. the orchestra themselves. i thought they did a good job other than a couple of points when they were a little bit out of sync with the singers. great mandolin solo in deh vieni!

vocally speaking i thought ottavio (lunga eric hallam) and anna (renee richardson) were the standouts but everyone in the cast was very well suited to their roles. don giovanni (cory mcgee) was great but i am just personally not as into deh vieni being sung with That Much vibrato and grandeur behind it (i prefer it to sound more intimate) but that's me picking nits here

okay leporello is always gay in my heart but this is easily the most OVERTLY gay i've seen him yet. dramatic af. limp wristing everywhere. you can absolutely see why he follows the don around despite the Everything Else; he's obviously in love. it was pretty neat to see that played as obviously as it was for once!

definitely these are not MY versions of the characters exactly; leporello is a bit too "willing/enjoying the don's shenanigans", elvira a bit too bitchy, etc for my own personal interpretations of them. HOWEVER the production really COMMITTED to its characterization and i respect that. even if my own interpretations are a bit different, it was easy to follow along and still like the characters as they were presented. so kudos for that!

they made the don so. flamboyant is not exactly the right term for it because he wears mostly black with a bit of gold/dark purple accents throughout the show. but. there was a very strong Energy to him. the slightly silly mustache. the eyeshadow. the dangly earrings and sparkly necklace. the see-thru lacy black shirt. the way he moves like a dancer. being SHIRTLESS in the lass scene, possibly with glitter on his bare chest. Mother Fucker. absolutely captivating to watch. i hate him and i'm obsessed

this also has to be the FUNNIEST production i've yet to see; possibly this is due to it being the first production i've seen live in the theater surrounded by an audience, which i think always heightens the energy as compared to watching a video at home or even in a cinema, but regardless this was a really funny production of don giovanni. i'm a big fan; don giovanni IS a dramma giocoso, and i think a LOT of productions these days tend to forget that it's supposed to be at least kind of funny here and there. it should still be dramatic and emotional at times, yes, but you can (and should) strike a balance. and while this production was perhaps slightly less emotional than others, it was really funny in a way i haven't seen before in don giovanni, which thrilled me.

a lot of it came down to little acting choices (blocking, gestures, tone of voice, etc; elvira threw a lot of shit across the stage in anger in this. good for her), some of it on creative liberty with the translation (eg. elvira calling the don a straight up jackass and bastard at Multiple Points lol), and a couple of tiny additions that amused me. there were SO many little moments that amused me.

i'd say the biggest thing that disappointed me with this production was the number of cuts they made. it seems like they were working with a very strict deadline of "final curtain at 11pm sharp" (to their credit, the show ended At 11pm Sharp) and decided to trim some bits deemed the most inessential for that reason. with that in mind i think the choices they made make Sense, but it's still kind of disappointing when you're expecting a particular aria and it never shows up, or if you're a weirdo like me who basically has the score memorized at this point and you're like "wait a minute there's supposed to be more recit here". the show started at 8pm but it was originally scheduled for a downbeat at 7:30; i'm not sure what the reason for the change is, but i can't help but wonder if those cuts wouldn't have been made if they'd had those thirty extra minutes to work with.

at any rate, if this production ever got revived (either here or somewhere else, ideally without cuts), i would be THRILLED to see it again, and heartily recommend it to anyone else who's even remotely interested. cuts aside (and really that's my only big criticism of the entire production) it was a FANTASTIC experience and i LOVED going to see it so so much <3

also final note on the venue. glad i brought my little handheld fan because an open air theater in virginia in august is STIFLING lol. that heat and humidity really lingers after sundown! but the seats were SURPRISINGLY comfortable for the three hours, moreso than a lot of, like, proper theaters i've been to lmao.

#sasha speaks #sasha reviews #don giovanni

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ladydarkey · 2 years

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So here we go! Thanks to RRR i was inspired to write my first fanfiction ever. You are welcome to criticise and comment. I am still developing my writing skills and english is not my mothertongue.

A huge thank you to @ruby-gold for Beta-reading and pushing me into a fandom I love

TW: self harm, angst, blood and a little bit of gay love

1550 words

Scars

Months have passed since Ram and Bheem defeated the British at Delhi. They are together now in Ram's home village, training new recruits for their fight against the English.

It's late in the evening. A candle on the table and a small lantern hanging from the ceiling of Ram's hut illuminate the room. The two men sit on the floor together, hunched over the table, planning the next attacks to further repel the British out of their country.

The fan next to Bheem hums quietly; apart from that there is only concentrated silence.

Suddenly, Bheem hears it, a splash.

"It's raining", he realizes quietly.

His eyes widen with joy because it is the first rain after months of heat. He starts laughing and jumps up.

Ram, who was very focused on his papers, is startled by the sudden movement and topples over backwards. "What's going on?" he asks in horror, instantly ready to fight.

"Anna! It's raining! Finally! It's raining!" Bheem shouts in excitement and with that, he runs outside into the rain.

Still sitting on the floor, exactly the way he fell back, Ram starts to hear the typical splashing sound of rainfall, too.

“Bheem is right, it is really raining.” Just at that moment he senses a slightly cold breeze on his neck, coming in through the window, crawling down his spine and making him shiver. Because of the running fan he couldn't feel it right away.

Ram stands up, opens the windows a bit more and lets the incoming fresh air cool down the warm room. The scent of rain hitting dry ground fills his nose. There is something magical about the first rain after months of drought. Everything is brought back to life, an everlasting thirst seems to be quenched. For a moment he stands there in silence, absorbing the air that's filled with heavy fragrance, falling into a state of inner peace

Bheem's laugh reaches his ears and pulls him out of his trance.

Ram takes the hanging lantern from the ceiling, follows the sweet sound of laughter and stops at the front door. It is pitch black outside. He can’t even see the house on the other side of the street. The only noticeable light is a little shine coming from a watchtower that's far away in the distance.

"It must be late", Ram thinks to himself, considering the darkness outside.

The two of them always forget about the time when they are deeply focused on planning their next moves against the British.

"We should go to sleep, we have training early in the morning" he reprimands himself with a frown. His eyes wander through the night. Always alert of possible danger.

"Anna!" Hearing his nickname, Ram turns his head and sees Bheem, standing barefoot in the rain, dressed in his white kurta, his arms spread widely as if he wants to catch every single drop of rain.

“He looks like an angel”, it comes to Ram’s mind.

With the lantern in Ram’s hand as the only lightsource it almost seems as if Bheem is shining himself, from the inside.

"Anna! What's with that serious face? Drop that!”, he hears Bheem shouting excitedly. “Come here and enjoy the beauty of nature with me!" Bheem gestures to Ram to join him but as he does not move immediately, Bheem starts dancing from puddle to puddle, hoping his Love would join in and dance with him like they used to back in Delhi. Thinking back to these joyful events, Bheems heart fills with pure happiness and he bursts out in laughter.

His innocent, childish laugh makes Ram smile.

“How childish and carefree he can be, I love this silly lighthearted man”, Ram says to himself in mind and considers joining his Love outside. He is in need of a carefree moment.

Ram is just about to move towards the dancing man when his eyes catch something on Bheem.

Something that leaves him in pure shock.

Because of the rain, Bheem’s kurta became transparent. Sticking wetly to his skin, it exposes his back, showing all the scars that mark Bheems skin. Not only the ones from his fights with tigers but also the ones of the whip that Ram wielded.

Suddenly he hears the sharp sound of the whip in his head and feels the swing in his arms.The image of the nail whip flashes before Ram’s eyes.

Anger rises in him. His body feels like it's starting to burn, heat rising from his toes slowly to his head. Ram cannot bare to look at the wounds he has inflicted on Bheem. He averts his gaze, closing his eyes.

"It is my fault! I hurt him! I am a monster!" The thoughts hit Ram with the same intensity like a stroke of the nail whip itself. "I tortured him for my own interests."

Ram’s hands are forming fists. He doesn't even notice that he's cutting his palm with his own fingernails. Drops of blood fall from his hands to the ground.

The only feeling he has is guilt. Ram’s surroundings seem to slowly disappear. He wants to scream but he cannot.

"I am a monster! A heartless monster! I hurt my only love…" Ram's head begins to spin as his shame and remorse yell at him in unison. "The only thing I know is violence. Death, pain and violence. Nobody can love a monster like me. I will lose everyone, like I always do."

He hits the door frame with his fists. Over and over again. Hoping his own pain would quell his guilt. But there is no pain. All feelings are numb. Blood is already dropping of his knuckles.

Until something stops him; a firm grip holding onto his wrists.

“Bangaram”, a soft voice and a breath tickles Ram's ear. It feels like a cold wave is suddenly flowing through his body, relieving a part of the inner heat. Ram knows that it's Bheem but he still cannot look into his eyes. Bheem could have never forgiven him for what Ram did to him.

“Bangaram, it is okay. Everything is okay. I am with you.” The soft voice continues as he feels a light touch on his cheek, wiping away a tear. Only now Ram realizes that he is crying.

“No it is not. I…I hurt you. Why do you want to be with me? I AM A MONSTER! I tortured you!” Ram sobbs heavily.

The firm grip on the wrists loosens and he feels how Bheem's wet body slowly nestles against his back from behind, his hands wrapped around Ram's stomach.

“Yes you hurt me. You had to and I am thankful that it was you who held the whip against me." Bheem responds gently.” Back then I didn’t realized it but I do now. You saved me.”

Ram wants to push his love away but Bheem pulls him even tighter against his body.

“How exactly did I save you? That is not possible”, Ram asks with slight anger in his voice, still feeling guilt and even a bit irritated with Bheem for saying such stupid things. Why would he say that? To calm him? To make him feel better about what he did? Never could Bheem have forgiven him. Never.

Bheem slowly turns Ram around, so he can look him in the eyes. Ram wants to resist, but let’s it happen.

“Ram”, Bheem says softly and once again a cold wave of relief flows through Ram’s body. “Every other soldier would have hit me with the whip until I was dead. But you didn’t. You wanted me to kneel. I admit, back then I hated you for saying this. Now i know you didn’t want to torture me any further. You wanted to end my suffering. Your begging and betrayal, at least I thought it was betrayal, gave me the strength and will to survive.”

Bheem runs his fingers through Ram's hair and strokes his jawline. He takes the man's lowered head in his hand and pushes it up a bit.

“Please look at me, bangaram. I can’t handle it when you don’t look at me with your beautiful brown eyes.” Bheem whispers, voice soft as mulberry silk.

As he is told, Ram slowly opens his eyes and looks straight into the ones of his love. A gentle smile reveals itself and he can't help but fall into his lover's arms. Ram wants to cry it all out, hoping that the tears will take away the guilt. Nowhere does he feel safer than inside Bheem’s embrace.

The strong man presses him very tightly against his body and allows his best friend to burst out in emotion. Ram feels the slow and soothing heartbeat of his beloved one which calms him down gently.

After a while, the crying quietens. Bheem loosens his grip and smiles at his lover. His white Kurta stained with blood of the broken man but he doesn't care. It is just a piece of fabric. He wipes the tears from Ram’s face and with a gentle kiss full of love on his forehead Bheem says "The past is history, the pain is forgotten. What we have left is our future together. Let's go to sleep now my dear, we have a long day ahead of us. I love you"

#rambheem #rrr fandom #ram charan #celebrrration #fanevent #tarak #charak #jtntr #first fanfic #ram and bheem #angst #ss rajamouli

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