#truly the maddest among us

[izzyhandsy]

BLACKBONNET SEX SCENE SET TO IZZY SINGING LA VIE EN ROSE IS FUCKING INSANE DJENKS IM IN YOUR WALLS

#LITERALLY SCREAMED AND PAUSED THE SHOW #barking howling gnashing my teeth gnawing the floorboards #steddyhands #blackbonnet #gentlebeard #edizzy #stizzy #izzy hands #edward teach #stede bonnet #ofmd 2 #ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd 2 spoilers #ofmd spoilers #like this is something a fan would edit together from two completely separate scenes #i always forget that Jenkins IS a fan #truly the maddest among us

[paradigmsofbrittaperry]

okay so I haven’t properly checked tumblr in like a month and a half, so here are my Red (Taylor’s Version) hot takes that might actually be lukewarm:

- a true cohesive 10 minute All Too Well never existed and Taylor had to just come up with some shit to stretch it out. let’s be real with ourselves, the song truly ends around the 7 minute 21 second mark. it’s a fantastic 7 minutes 21 seconds! but y’know.

- I prefer og I Knew You Were Trouble. it took me a hot minute to get used to WANEGBT and 22, but I came around to them after listening a few times. still not a huge fan of new I Knew You Were Trouble.

- Holy Ground (Taylor’s Version) <3 that’s it that’s the bullet point

- across the whole album, it’s amazing how clear and full the vocals are. like I can instantly tell from an opening note if a song is the og or Taylor’s Version because there’s such a stark difference. the novelty of getting to hear old songs with her current voice and new production has yet to wear off.

- as far as vault tracks go, favs are Babe, Message in a Bottle, Nothing New, and The Very First Night. aside from knowing that Nothing New is a fav, I genuinely don’t know what the consensus among the fanbase has been on those.

- I love getting content but I’m a little upset that Fearless (Taylor’s Version) got a fraction of the attention that Red (Taylor’s Version) is getting!! where’s my Mr. Perfectly Fine music video!! my You All Over Me live performance!! Ms. Swift that became the soundtrack to the first semester of my sophomore year of college please give me something

- that being said, this album release was perfectly timed, as I realized that I’m in love with someone that has been stringing me along for months shortly after listening to ATW10 for the first time so <3 I’ve been live laugh loving my way through life as I’ve been forced to confront the reality of the toxic situationship I’m in for the millionth time!! thanks for providing the soundtrack to the mental breakdown you caused Ms. Swift!!

- I never liked Stay Stay Stay but I love the new version. I think it’s honestly just the new vocals.

- my fav tracks overall are still Holy Ground, Red, Treacherous, Come Back…Be Here, and 22. honorable mention to WANEGBT and the fact that I listened to it as I was walking to meet up with someone to break up with them, even though I’d already broken up with them a week prior.

- when listening to the sadder songs, I’ve been envisioning the aforementioned person I broke up with listening to them too and crying softly and muttering “she loved Taylor Swift…” under their breath. they became pretty much obsessed with me after knowing me for a mere seven days and refused to hear to a single word I said for a whole three weeks until they decided on their own to break things off with me. they also once entered my apartment, took off their shoes AND their socks, and had the audacity to put their bare feet on my coffee table. I’m still mad. there’s a lot this person did in three weeks to be mad about, and somehow that’s the thing I’m maddest about.

- overall, Red (Taylor’s Version) good. too conveniently timed, but good. I started crying while singing along to ATW10 as I was driving home from work. the line “if we had been closer in age, maybe it would’ve been fine” hits a little too hard when you’re stuck in a pseudo-relationship with a 22 y/o who’s made you feel like you’re crazy for ever thinking there could be something more than friendship between you, even though all your friends and co-workers and bosses and relatives think something more is going on. anyway. I hate getting old.

#happy free confused and lonely has been my catchphrase for a while!!! #anyway hope you all are well <3 please feel free to tell me why I’m wrong or share your opinions in the replies #bri speaks

[sophiamcdougall]

I keep thinking that the immortals give Nile a lot of authoritative-sounding information about how being immortal works, and yet their sample size is never more than six and frequently it’s one.  Including Nile, there have only ever been seven of them ... that they know of. Obviously, there might have been near-immortals who lived and eventually died before Andy was even born, but also, until encountering Quynh, Andy had no way of knowing that new immortals inspire clairvoyant dreams in each other. Even after the dreams and meeting Quynh in real life ... if I were in her shoes I think I might have read the situation as “destined to find my soulmate” more than “all immortals come with a sort of built-in homing beacon which broadcasts equally to all other immortals.” Not for centuries would either encounter any further evidence either way. And even now -- having dreamed of, and then found, Lykon, Joe, Nicky and Nile, how do you know you’re dreaming of the world’s entire population of immortals, rather than a random selection? Or those Destiny or whatever particularly wants you to meet? Nicky and Joe can only ever have had this experience once before, relatively recently, and Booker can never have had it at all. I guess it doesn’t matter, as acknowledging the possibility that there might be others out there wouldn’t practically change very much, but it’s part of a pattern of jumping to conclusions.  

“Eventually you stop healing.” This has only happened once (that they know of, see above) and only one member of the current team was there to see it. “Immortality has limits and in time, this will happen to all of us” is a good theory, but it should only be a theory. How do they know that something hadn’t happened to Lykon, and only Lykon, to rob him of his immortality? What if he got a defective dose of immortality in the first place? Or, given that their own existence proves the existence of the supernatural, is it out of bounds to think that he might have pissed off some other form of supernatural being? Now, I don’t exactly mind them jumping to conclusions on this one, because they all have good reason, actually, to want this to be true -- Booker and Andy because depression and grief and burnout, Nicky and Joe because wonderful as it is to share centuries with your true love, you’d probably rather not stick around for the sun boiling away the oceans. And in fact bearing in mind that they couldn’t truly have known this was coming adds tension and urgency to the scenes after the revelation of Andy’s mortality. But I kind of wish it had been expressed, because it makes the possibility that this might be happening to all of them now - when they’re surrounded by enemies -- even more compelling. It’s somewhat implicit in the acting choices but imagine if they were explicitly grappling with the possibility that Lykon was an outlier in a different way - the rest of them were always supposed to run out of immortality juice now, today.  “Your family will reject you.” This is the one that actually bothers me,  because Christ, NILE’S POOR MUM. And this isn’t a statement about how immortality works anyway, it’s a statement about anyone who happens to be related to an immortal. The whole team seem to offhandedly agree that Nile is better off not going back to her family, but the only person who actually explains why is Booker, and ... why is anyone accepting Booker’s experiences as representative of anything? Especially after discovering the betrayal! Booker is suicidally depressed! Obviously he thinks the world is terrible, interpersonal problems are insurmountable and every bad thing that’s happened to him is a universal law of nature! You don’t have to believe him! Especially since his situation, as described, has pretty much fuck all in common with Nile’s and there’s little reason to think it has anything much in common with the others, either. And yet even when Nile has her “refusal of the call” moment, she doesn’t say argue with Booker’s predictions, she merely says that she can defer the moment she must vanish from her family’s lives until her immortality becomes impossible to hide. But why? Booker does not mention parents, only his children. There’s no indication any of the others had offspring, but even if they did, it’s largely irrelevant to Nile who clearly doesn’t. She’s concerned about her mother and brother. Nile discovers her immortality a lot younger than the rest of the team, in a period with a much longer average life expectancy. All the rest appear to be in their mid thirties to mid forties. Given how far back in time their origins are, it’s unlikely that all of them had living parents when they discovered their immortality, and any that  they did have would have been decidedly elderly by the standards of the time. So how plausible is it that any of the others experienced any version of what Booker describes? I’d say not very, and it’s downright implausible that they experienced it with a parent. Children are supposed to outlive their parents. Booker’s situation was agonising specifically because it was a tragic inversion of that rule. Booker’s son had to die in pain while his father now looked younger than he did. But Andy, Joe or Nicky’s parents, even if they were around to witness anything, would have seen ... what? Their 45-year-old son still passing for 35?  Even if they knew about the immortality ... how exactly would they have wanted/expected their child to pass it on? Wouldn’t an 11th century parent have been far more likely to take up the unequal distribution of miracles with God rather than their kid? So why should Nile accept that her mother will behave like Booker’s son? Isn’t it enormously more likely that a woman who, like every mother, has always wanted and expected to be outlived by her daughter, and yet has been living with the daily terror of losing her in combat, will be enormously relieved to know that she’s not going to die prematurely? Is it even vaguely likely that the pain of not benefiting directly from your daughter’s magical healing powers, decades from now, is worse than the pain of losing her at 20? OK, so then there’s the brother. Outliving a brother isn’t like outliving a child either, but it’s at least somewhat easier to believe there could be jealousy and conflict there eventually. But is that possibility of pain worth inflicting absolutely certain agony now? Is it impossible to talk through potential issues now just because it didn’t work out that way for Booker? OK, but for argument’s sake, let’s accept your family will inevitably ask you to share your immortality with them. Booker says that of course you can’t pass it on, yet his entire freaking arc is predicated on the possibility that maybe you can. (Which is cool, actually! But it has unexplored implications!) One thing that I actually really liked about film is it made “getting kidnapped and vivisected” a convincing threat, whereas many sci-fi shows vaguely invoke it as a reason that superpowered characters must keep their abilities secret, without ever bothering to show how that would play out in practice. I mean, people with unusual abilities exist! Michael Phelps produces less than half the usual amount of lactic acid! And has twice the normal lung capacity! Which we know, because researchers have studied him! Yet nobody has ever carted Michael Phelps off to a secret laboratory and if they did he would have various legal options!  It works here, but part of the reason it works is that Copley raises the obvious objection - why should being a subject of medical research mean anything more than donating some blood, a cheek swab and maybe at absolute worst some bone marrow? That would be enough to map their entire genome ... what else does even the maddest scientist even want? The Old Guard is the first show I can think of which actually had a decent answer, and it’s that Merrick is a greedy hypercapitalist psychopath who doesn’t want to share. Which is brilliant, but acknowledges it isn’t actually the science that’s the problem. But none of that was available in Booker’s time! He not only had to deal with an apparently unique situation among the immortals, he also was caught at a unique moment in history: far enough advanced that his family was less likely to accept “miraculously chosen by god/gods/fate” as an answer, far enough advanced to contemplate the possibility that medical science could replicate his immortality, but nowhere near advanced enough to meaningfully try. But if you’re immortal now and your dying relative is freaking out ... wouldn’t you at least agree to giving them a blood transfusion? They’d know you tried. It’d probably calm them down. It might even work!  What is the wider significance of this? Basically fuck all, but it feels like it’s been years since I got to nitpick something that I genuinely enjoyed for the sheer, innocent love of being an insufferable killjoy rather than because I thought it was Problematic.  

#The Old Guard

[lesbiandeancas]

so it’s actually kind of interesting in 10x18 book of the damned because metatron hides cas’s grace in don quixote. he’s mocking him the whole episode, from “what is your mission?” (he knows. it’s dean.) asking why he cares so much. questioning his place as an angel and his place among humanity.

don quixote is a comedy but it’s kind of a tragic one -- like there are genuine moments of tragedy interspersed with the overarching parody. don quixote tries to save people -- he wants to be a hero like the ones he’s read about in romantic tales of chivalrous knights. but he’s kind of a dumbass. he runs off to fight windmills because he thinks they’re giants flailing their arms. he actually causes harm or lets tragic events happen to people because he’s trying to save them, and he leaves thinking he’s done them a favor. metatron is calling castiel a parody of a chivalric figure, a parody of an angel (thank you for this wording carly) and is mocking him for his mission, his ideals, his mistakes -- everything.

then there’s the added subtextual bit. don quixote is accompanied on all of his adventures by sancho panza, a farmer who he hires to be his “squire” -- he basically accepts the gig for the money, but they develop a close relationship throughout the novel. so I’ll just. leave that there.

aside from this mocking interpretation though (and something I REALLY don’t think the spn writers put that much thought into -- aside from “haha don quixote, because he hates castiel and thinks his mission is stupid”) is the fact that don quixote has many interpretations and is like regarded as one of the most complex bits of literature of all time? I’m saying he’s a bitch, he’s a top, he stans lizzo, he wasted soddom and gamorrah, etc.

also “what’s the maddest thing a man can do? let himself die” in the context of 15x18. and the fact that metatron used castiel’s grace as part of that spell that also involved a nephilim and a cupid’s bow (and the grace of an angel who ___?) asdkjfa;kjdfsasjk;fj truly WHAT the honest to god fuck, how was none of this intentional I JUST

#spn meta #this got WAY out of hand I was just gonna write a paragraph about this

[real-sotenbori-hours]

Madness Among the Maddest - Loki x Fem Reader * smut * - Part 1

Summary: The Grand Master is tired of you sneaking around Sakaar without his permission or understanding of what you’re doing. Since you refuse to explain yourself, he’s sure he knows just how -or who- can get you to talk.

 Warning: NSFW, smut, multiple orgasms… y’know how it is.

 ***

You were tougher than nails and feared nothing. Pain didn’t motivate you, nor intimidation. Your resolve was as ardent as Mjolnir itself, save for one thing nobody’d yet discovered. Your reputation sang of your ability to withstand adversity, your very existence indomitable in every sense of the word. Known all through The Nine as an unbreakable force, your power was complimented by your innately sultry character, your mere presence a source of magnetism. Unbreakable to all... 

 ...but bendable by One.  

 For centuries, you’d traveled between planets, in search of the perfect civilization to dominate. Taking intel and research from every corner you visited, you’d deliver the information to your cohorts and the group would continue to deliberate. You could build your own society, but why bother? When you’re physically and philosophically sound in every fundamental form, all that’s left to be desired is a designated place to originate from.  

 Until Sakaar.  

You’d discovered a seemingly unknown porthole that could commute you from one end of the galaxy to another, rendering Sakaar as a geographically perfect checkpoint destination. You’d been using this thoroughfare for decades, quietly pillaging while keeping an eye on the Grandmaster’s dog and pony shows and other successes, namely his out of town guests. You were however unaware that the GM had been keeping a vigilant eye on you as well, and was patiently awaiting your most recent return.  

 That’s how you found yourself immediately before him, magnetically bound to the GM’s signature submissive chairs. Via his whimsical interrogation methods he pried, asking the nature of your origin, motives, etcetera. You shrugged the best you could within your restraints and uttered not a word. Quickly flustered, he summoned his melting scepter beside your cheek, slowly emitting heat to your skin. You can call a bluff in your very bones, so you smile. The heat intensifies and you remain strong in your silence. The GM continues to illustrate the physical torture waiting for you outside his chambers and to that, you let a small, faint yawn escape your lips. Just then Topaz leans into the GM’s side with an urgent whisper. A second passes as he murmurs with delight and intrigue, writhing rhythmically to his own tune of thought as it materialized on his face. He had a plan.  

 So, there you are. Still clad in your black protective leather armor, you’re relieved to remain in what’s comfortable, even if your accommodations are horrifying. Looking around, you find yourself in the strange, striped circular loophole dungeon that houses the bodies (both living and dead) of the GM’s Prisoners With Jobs. On your left, you see the vaguest silhouettes of Korg and a couple of less identifiable beings, their voices low and fuzzy as if the volume’s turned way down. On your right, more distant voices crowding like a contained hum.  Confusion begins to tease you as you contemplate the reality that you just might be inside a cell within a cell, a hole within a loophole. 

 As the very question begins to form in your mind, a projected message from the GM appears right in front of you, giggling feverishly as he informs you that you won’t be able to hear or communicate with anyone, as he’s putting a kibosh on your eavesdropping and ultimately, the gathering of intelligence... along with your shameless shoplifting of goods from his sacred planet. Oh and on a final note: he has a weapon even you might not be a match for, and in your surrender to this weapon, you will reveal everything he asks.  You smirk. 

 A good challenge has never failed to entertain you in your many centuries of life, trials and tribulations. You’ve seen and felt, pursued and exhausted everything in The Nine and yet player to player combat still enthralls you most. What a wondrous existence. Your ability to resolve and conquer keeps things interesting, as it should. Existence is all about experience, testing limits from every angle and making note of it all. You seldom say no to something you’ve not had the chance to analyze. All for the sake of knowledge.  

 Slowly yet suddenly, your contemplation is interrupted as the invisible walls of your cell dim to a dark, cloudy gray and a figure appears as if through a mist. Interesting. You stretch your legs out in front of you, crossing them at your ankles. You lean back, reclining for the next act about to unfold before you. Just a few feet ahead stands a vision in black and green, of alabaster skin, raven hair and a smirk nearly as enigmatic as your own. A vision of dark to light, stark and alluring. Interesting indeed.  He takes one step toward you and stops, breathing in a sigh punctuated by a playfully sinister laugh, echoing from the depths of his belly and hanging seductively in the air. He watches as gooseflesh erects like falling dominoes, trailing rapidly along your arms. He tilts his head and coos, “Right on schedule.” 

 You sit up slightly, raising your eyes to meet his and he smiles. “I’ve always had the ability to disarm even the most resolute of beings. But do tell me, pet: what is a striking young vixen such as yourself doing in a place like this?” You fight the urge to snicker and lose, a grin peels across your face. You retort “ah, Loki, Prince of Asgard. Flattery may get you all you desire back home, but I’m rather well versed in what you do.”  He takes another step forward, stopping at the push-back from the tip of his boot prodding the sole of yours. The thought of him being close enough to touch you begins to distract you from your trademarked stoicism. Better tread lightly. Don’t get cocky. Don’t lose your wits now. Don’t let him in your head.  

 You pull one leg back, bending at the knee as you slide yourself back, straightening up, somewhat defensively. Acknowledging your attempt to posture, he waves a hand and produces two chairs, facing one another. He reaches his hand to you. “Let us sit comfortably as we discuss the matter at hand.”  Rising to your feet, you lightly wave his hand away as he scoffs, amusedly. You take a step forward and he teleports behind you to pull your chair out. Thanking him, you take your seat. You can work with this.  

 Expecting him to sit across from you, you’re taken aback when the apparition before you disappears and the Loki behind you wraps his long, slender fingers around the chair, gripping your arms ever so lightly. Leaning in, he whispers deeply into your ear, his bottom lip grazing your earlobe as he forms every syllable. “Tell me, my darling. What truly brings you here?” An undeniable heat flickers in the core of your lap. You tilt your head away from temptation and remark, “Well on this trip, I was just on the hunt for materials, my lord. But I’d be happy to call it a day and be on my merry way home if you’d just point me in the direction of the door.”  

 His fingertips slowly begin to run up and down your arms as he brings his head further to meet your ear, laughing breathily and murmuring, “If talking is not in your interests, I can make it so.” You chuckle, in a profound attempt to conceal your growing arousal at this game. A fruitless effort as the Dark Prince can detect exactly what you’re feeling. To this, he responds by placing his left hand at the base of your neck, lightly pushing your head aside with this fingers, exposing your neck to his tongue as he licks a slow, broad stroke straight to the very same earlobe. You breathe out slowly and deeply and reach nimbly for a lock of his hair: to subdue him, sure. But with the mood striking, why not remind him not to get too familiar?  

 He catches your wrist immediately and laughs again, this time leaning into your face, resting the tip of his nose beside yours. He returns your slow, deep sigh for a second, then brings his lips to barely touch yours as he asks, “How have you been getting here, little dove? That’s all I’m asking.” Before you can pull your other arm free to grab his neck, he pins it to the chair. He narrows his glare into your eyes. “Tell me.” He lets the tip of his tongue out to graze your bottom lip. You take his bottom lip, dragging your teeth to suck it briefly. He revels in your response, and you release him, pushing yourself free from him as you stand. “You’d like to talk, my lord? Then please, have a seat.” You muse, and he follows. 

 “I just thought we’d have some fun, is all. I’ve found you mystifying for a rather long time, and at long last, I’ve got my introduction.” He shrugs, nesting in the chair across from you, crossing one long leg atop the other. You smirk. “You’re not the only one with wiles, your highness.” You can withstand even the most grueling physical pain and torment. You’ve survived true agonies. At this rate you wager if you go along, allowing him to work you up, you can figure out why he’s here just as well. Why not go along, make him think if he gets you off, you’ll tell him everything? That way you can at least have some fun for now and possibly still accomplish something.  

 You step towards him and you watch as his eyes follow every curve of your body, making a second pass upward and stopping at your lips. You relish the look in his eyes and decide to move forward. You tower over him, giving him a moment to breathe in your scent. You grab his hair and tug his head backward, speaking into his throat. “What do you really want to know of me, my Prince? Am I all that beguiling?”  He chuckles once again. “I was sent to question you. But at this moment, I could not care less. Of my own reasons I sought your company... for my own reasons. Would you like to find out what they are?” He immediately grabs your wrist once again, freeing himself from your clutch and sitting upward, beneath you, defiantly and daringly raising his chin to you as he places a hand on each of your hips. You try to hold back the shudder but it overcomes you. He takes this as a cue and slides his thumbs up along your hip bones and cups his fingers beneath your ass cheeks. Time to move.  

 You take that last step forward, closing the gap. You swing one leg over each of his and rest on his lap, leaning in, breathing in. Burying your nose in the nape of his neck, taking in every note of him, you murmur, “What do you want now, my lord?” He runs two fingers from your collar bone to the valley of your chest, slowly tracing around. You begin undoing the front clasps of your armor, all the way down to your belt, stopping. He reaches up to your now open collar and tugs it, grinning, gazing for a moment. “Ah, a fair woman with the fairest skin. Just as I imagined... for so long.” Inviting him to peruse, you allow him to wander further. He runs fingertips along your bare stomach, stopping at the center of you, cupping it. And squeezing.  You gasp and lean forward, entrenching both hands in his hair. Pressing your lips to his and snarling, “Tell me.” He slides his tongue directly into your mouth, alongside yours, and the heat between your legs, within his palm smolders. The erupting frenzy set you ablaze. Once in a while, you’ve gotta treat yourself. And in this case, worst case, you were going to get off... and fuck a god.  

 Straddling his lap, making the slightest suggestion with your hips, circling around the rapidly hardening bulge between his thighs, you run your wet lips down to the tip of his chin, sucking it. “Say it, your highness. What do you want?” He meets your gaze again and looks down at his hand, pressed against the warmest thing in The Nine. Like a switch, the chairs disappear and you’re thrown against the awkwardly, angularly curved wall of the cell, your throat tight against Loki’s hand, while his other hand runs between your knees, up your thighs, stopping once again at the place on the map that the Dark Prince longed to conquer. “I want to ravage you, taste you, feel you, break you, render you defenseless. I’ve not wanted someone so badly in as long as I can remember.” 

 Sighing, you lean forward and he pushes your head back against the wall. He moves in close, taking your upper lip between his and slipping that silver tongue back into your mouth, coaxing you to forget about missions and intelligence, the only focus on your radar now the swell of desire raging between your legs, pulsing in his hand.  You shrug. He pulls away and takes a step back, a mischievous smirk peeling across his face. An oddly soft sensation enveloped you as your armor quickly peeled its way down to your boots, a feeling both warm and cold at the same time freeing you of your material bonds, offering you to the rightful King of Asgard as he stood before you.  You decide to be coy, to extend this moment just a little longer. “I did not ask you to will my armor off of me, my Prince. If you’re going to undress me, why not use those lovely Asgardian hands?” 

 A feral smirk flushed across his face as he shook his head, scoffing. A millisecond passes as he flew up against you again, your hair now locked in his fist and his mouth to the crook between your ear and your cheek. “Let’s not forget whose stature here is greater, my love. You will do well to kneel before me and fulfill my every command. You are a prisoner on this planet and in this moment you are MY prisoner. Now still your tongue and await my next order.” He then grabs the empty sleeves of your armor and wraps them around your wrists, binding you to yourself in the most exquisite arrangement.  

 Intriguing indeed.  

 Waving another hand in the air, he repositions you on the floor, leaning against the wall, wrists bound and connected to your ankles, nearly hogtied before royalty. He towers over you, laughing again, placing a hand atop your head. “You look stunning in this position. Fit to be Queen. A character of strong will and instinct, working her way through The Nine Realms, all in the name of knowledge. A woman unbreakable, but quite possibly bendable, right before me. Mine to experiment on. Mine to do with as I please... and it would so please me to see just how far I can bend you.” He pulls your face up to his and you slide your tongue out, leaving it pressed between your teeth. Not batting an eye at the failing mission in your midst is all too easy now. A good game is hard to find. Fuck the mission, it’s time to fuck.  

 He runs the tip of his tongue along yours, sending electric jolts straight down to the conductor itself, your slightly aching cunt. You raise your hips off the floor subtly enough to suggest you’re ready to talk terms with your body. His eyes follow, glazing by the inch, stopping at your beautiful center. Running each hand from your calf upward, he stops just short of your entrance and slides his tongue out... and in.  Incredible.  As his tongue darts within you, you feel the presence of another Loki behind you, unbinding and undressing you completely while running his mouth along your neck, finding your mouth and cupping your breasts. The Loki below you peers up for a moment, watching you preen. You lean forward as a way to beg him not to stop. He rolls back on his ankles and grins. “Shall I continue, pet?” You nod. 

 He slips back in between your legs and continues masterfully manipulating every sensation tingling through you. Gripping your thighs and pulling his face deeper into you: the very sight enough to unravel you for eons to come. The Loki behind you grabs your face and pulls your lips to his, bringing you over the edge as you grind along and against the two Dark Princes wantonly galvanizing every last part of you. As the one before you continues lapping you up, the one behind you slides two fingers into you, undoing you in the most delightful way, entrapping you in the most delicious madness conceivable. Your body convulses as you’re released, the Loki behind you vanishes and the one before you is still within you, between your knees, on his knees.  You utter an airy chuckle as your orgasm retreats.

 Looking down at the fine Asgardian god before you, you couldn’t resist. “Who’s kneeling now, your majesty? I do so enjoy the worship in your prowess.” He pulls his head up, looking both defeated and entranced, rocking back on his ankles once again. You waste no time. At your feet, you close the distance and push him back to a seated position against the opposite wall of the cell, pinning him in place as you stretch your legs apart and straddle his lap once again. Instantly he’s disarmed, placing his hands on your back and running them up and down, digging nails into you, exhilarating you further. 

 You reach down for his cock, grasping it firmly and lean in to take to his lips again. Hungrily he meets you, tongues massaging one another as passion coursed through every vein. You pull away and up to his ear. You let out a short chuckle and slowly ask, “Do you wish to take me, my Prince? Do you crave the sensation of my wet, hot tightness gripping you deeper and deeper, greedily pulling you into me while you fight not to concede?” He stills. No woman has ever spoken to him in this manner, he’s absolutely floored. Asgardian women are demure and well behaved, it’s no wonder he’s felt his wants go unmet... for so long. 

 For the first time he decides to put the whole rightful-King-of-Asgard schtick on pause and just explore the extraordinary matter at hand. He takes a deep breath, attempting to hide how indescribably aghast he is and sighs, “That is indeed what I plan to do, little dove.” He grips your hips tightly, pulling you against him, grinding the invitation against you. You chuckle again and lean in even closer to prod, “How badly do you want to be inside of me? I can delay you.” 

 He cups you once again, slipping the slightest of fingertips within you and holds you still. “I want you more than anything,” he whispers in a nearly deadly voice. You retort, “More than the throne of Asgard?” He laughs softly and rocks forward in one motion, pushing you off of him and onto your back, flat on the floor. He waves off his armor and crawls over you, boring into your eyes, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. He leans down and begins to run the tip of his tongue along the underswell of your chest. He grabs your face between his index and thumb, pressing his forehead to yours. 

 “If you think I pleased you before, you have another thing coming. I’m going to summon you to the edge and hold you there longer than you can fucking stand. I’m going to revel in the flavor of your anticipation, the scent of your arousal, the taste of your body as you beg me to let you come. I’m going to hold you captive until you repent and plead, crying out for me to fill you, to soothe this maddening need. You will be screaming and you’re going to love every fucking moment of it. I’m going to make you come so hard that it almost hurts. You know not what I’m truly capable of, pet.”  

 ***

Oops, got a little indulgent with the smut... so there’ll be a part 2, of course. I’m just tryin’ to work ya up, let ya down n’ work ya back up again. ;)

#loki laufeyson #loki #loki fanfic #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki (marvel) #loki odinson #loki imagine #loki ragnarok

[narekashi]

"But I don’t want to go among mad people,"

Alice remarked. She was getting irritated with the Chesire Cat named Loki constantly following her around. She was, for all the people she knew and met in her life, the maddest of all people.

"Oh, you can’t help that," said Loki who was currently on a tree looking down on the girl. His smirk grew bigger at her irritation. "We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad."

"How do you know I’m mad?" said Alice.

"You must be," said the Cat, "or you wouldn’t have come here."

The words he said were very clearly quoted off from Alice in Wonderland, where Alice the first was featured in. However, Alice the second knows she isn't in a story world when this was the reality she was in currently. She wondered if Loki really invited Alice the first into Cradle with those words judging from his age. Whatever it was, he wasn't helping her getting less annoyed.

"I just fell down a hole and ended up in this strange world. I'm not sure who is madder; the man who dresses as a cat following me or Cradle being almost nothing as depicted in the storybook." She sarcastically replied back only earning the laughter of said man.

"Cradle is much scarier than the world that you know of, Alice. An all out war won't have lesser casualties than the sentences the Queen of Hearts have made in your dear book. Has Blanc not reminded you?" Loki slurred his words and his mismatched eyes seem to glimmer more as if he was anticipating your next words.

Alice kept silent. Why was she in a debate with him anyways? She could have just gone on with her days, ignoring him and forgetting about him when she left Cradle.

"Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?" She asked not wanting to continue the previous conversation. She still had no idea how she managed to wonder so deep into the Forbidden Forest on her own and all she wanted now was to get out.

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," he said nonchalantly.

"I don't much care where -" said Alice but was interrupted half way through.

"Then it doesn't matter which way you go," said the Cat. He couldn't help but feel amuse at this game he was playing now.

"- so long as I get SOMEWHERE," Alice added as an explanation. Her irritation was continuing to grow the more he talked with her. She wished she could just leave and find her way on her own without her stalker if she knew how to get out of this thick dark forest.

"Oh, you're sure to do that," said the Cat, "if you only walk long enough."

The girl put up her hands in defeat and sighed exasperated. "All right I give up. I'm just going to camp here tonight. Now can you just please go away?"

"However, I do know the place where I live with my master. Would you like to come and rest for the night? He knows the Black Army quite well," He mused in amusement, not to himself but for the lost Alice.

She levelled out her choices. Stay with a creepy stalker man or lie and sleep on the dirt floor. Normally she would go for the second choice but she knew there were more dangerous people like bandits and killers out there than a stalker so she bit the bullet.

"Fine, one night and then you show me the way to your house. All right?" She grumbled and crossed her arms.

Loki lessened his smile to more of a grin before jumping down the tree and landing on his feet perfectly. He stepped closer and gazed into the girl's eyes with his own for a while without saying anything before turning around and saying, "I promise! Now let's go before Harr finds us on his own!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bold words are the quotes that were used.

The original Alice in Wonderland book is truly a blessing. Please read the original if you haven't--

#ikemen revolution #loki genetta #drabble #one shot #alice in wonderland

[intolerablexsacrifice]

HEADCANON. (don’t r/b)

SO let’s talk about parallels for a second:

S2E2, to Hennessey: You might like him, sir. Actually, I went to one of those salons of his, the ones that half the Royal Society attend but most deny. Most of those men are pretenders, sir - attracted to his ideas because they make them feel like radicals, but Thomas... When he talks about the need to rethink things, systemic things, I think he truly believes what he’s saying. And what’s more, I’m afraid I might believe a good deal of it as well.

S3E1, to Silver: These days, any man who can sew a black flag and get ten fools to follow him can take a prize. They can take it because of the fear that I and men like me have instilled in their prey. But they can’t do what I can do. They’re not built for it. And sooner or later they’ll be exposed. Any fool who followed Hallendale deserves whatever end they got in his company. You were right. This war is getting more dangerous. The strong among us must stand together and face it. But the fools, and the pretenders? They were never truly among us to begin with.

The main point I want to make here is that Flint places a great deal of importance on what he sees as true believers, because he has experience with the reality of asking people to take risks in order to try and make a change. There’s a parallel between the men who sat in Thomas’ salon but left the moment they were asked to actually stand up and fight, leaving only Peter Ashe behind (who later became corrupt) and the pirates that have begun taking advantage of Flint’s notoriety. 

Flint knows there’s a difference. He knows that when the pirates of Nassau are called upon to fight against England or Spain (because there’s an alliance between various captains at this point, I believe, who are being bribed/paid with the Urca gold to ensure they defend the island if it comes under attack) that most of them will run rather than fight. He says something in either season 3 or 4 that calls back to this- I’m too damn lazy to find it, but it’s like “As soon as those men hit the beach, nine in ten of ours will run” or some shit when they’re about to come under attack. 

(And it’s also worth noting than in S3E1, he doesn’t see Silver as ‘one of us’, I don’t think, which is part of why that speech sounds like an accusation. He knows Silver has only been in this for the gold until now, and because his disability leaves him with few other options. Which is part of why Silver finally gains his respect after The Shark Scene, because Flint asks what he did with his share of the gold, and Silver says he gave it up because he saw no way to keep it and remain part of the crew. It isn’t just that Silver outsmarted him - it’s that Silver’s motives have changed to something that sets him apart from the ‘fools and pretenders’ (aka The Unbelievers) Flint refers to, and a little closer to Flint’s own ideals.)

Naturally, as much as this all sounds like it’s based on Flint looking down on unbelievers/people that aren’t willing to fight for a cause or stand up for what they believe in/etc, let’s... not forget that this is also sheer arrogance on his part. Flint believes himself smarter and more capable than most people (hence, part of why he’s so willing to go to extreme lengths for his goals- he believes No-One Else Can Or Will, So He Must), which again, is part of why Silver outsmarting him and giving up his claim to the gold leads Flint to start putting him on a... fucking pedestal or whatever by the time we hit S4. 

He does this to the point of eventually elevating Silver and Madi above himself, actually- hence his, “I think that you are the best of us. The two of you are the world in balance.” late in season 4, long after he’s conceded most of his power and influence and reputation to Silver. And it’s worth noting that in this equation, Madi is elevated because of her ideals above all else. She’s the ‘truest believer’ of them all to Flint, and the closest parallel to Thomas (and Flint is very aware of literary parallels within his own life- it’s why he starts paralleling Silver and Thomas throughout season 2, he knows literary tropes and is constantly applying them to his own life to try and make sense of his narrative and have some semblance of control over it), hence why he looks so damn Shook(TM) after she quotes Too much sanity may be madness; and maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be to him.

#( HEADCANONS. ) #[ THIS GOT... LONG ] #( NO STORYTELLER IMPOSING ANY COHERENCE. ) silver #( A CHORUS OF VOICES; THEY REACH BACK CENTURIES. ) madi #[ listen i know half the fandom loves talking about his love for silver or w/e BUT #CAN WE JUST... TALK ABOUT... MADI... ] #[ CAN WE JUST................. ]

[luckychrm]

Gabriel Appreciation Week: hero/villain

day 1,

once again, thank you to @wearemiraculous to put this together <3

About 15 years ago Papillon was Paris’ hero. An idol, an icon, a role model you blindly looked up to.

Now, he was back to active but with a completely different game. Instead of being the city’s saviour, Papillon was the one who spread horror, hatred and chaos all over the place. 

In his eyes, he was still doing the right thing, though. But not to the others.

“No one will understand” He whispered in the emptiness of his lair, the statement looking a way to comfort him about his actions.

The ones who were once his fans now are poor souls who despise him the most, feeling bad about all the time and love they wasted over him, their empty hearts crushed by all the destruction that he caused. The young ones lived terrified of being caught on this manipulation net of his but had to learn how to mask it well in order to survive. He could sense it all but only the strongest among the weakest would be caught.

Paris was under this never-ending emotional dictatorship and if not the fantastic work of Ladybug and Chat Noir, things would be so much worse.

In fact, he used to have a partner to help him fight evil when his days were glorious ones. But that was a thing of the past and the past stays in the past. He prefers to work solo now because he has more freedom, more control over his plans.

“Partners are foolish.” He thinks to himself, every word sounding more bittersweet than the last one.

But what made him change so suddenly? What made a man from good turn to evil? What kind of thing made him cross the boundaries of good and bad, right and wrong, correct and incorrect?

What was it?

Of course the public doesn't know the reason. Not the public, not the guardian, not his own son, hell! Not even Ladybug and Chat knew and they were confined to fight him, to prevent this ruthless entropy like a kind of prophecy that you avoid at all costs and want to badly believe it's a lie but no matter what it always becomes real.

Some even believed that he changed his game out of pure fun, but a villain doesn't do nothing for pure fun. He always has a reason, a motive strong enough to make him go mad and blind; Papillon’s was love.

(What a clichê! But as they say, you do the craziest things for love)

Love made him restless, sleepless, insane, truly logical (more than what he used to be), trying to come up with the maddest plans to bring his love back. Love made him ecstatic but it also hurt him, made him desperate, broke him like a toy in the same way he was breaking every single Paris’ hopes and dreams.

“One day my love, I’ll bring you back.” He cried over an enormous painting, his tears gently washing away some hints of gold but only bringing more grief to him.

He was blindly sure he would bring her back, but at what cost? A cost higher than anything possible, a cost than in fact he couldn't even pay: another innocent life. But he didn't know it and he didn't care to get informed about it because all that mattered was that she would be back. Everything seemed so simple, why making it harder?

During the next 4 years, Papillon was defeated by his enemies over and over; revised his plans countless times, did everything to primate his powers to an unthinkable level and most importantly, never gave up on chasing what once belonged to him.

One day, he did it. He got the so desired miraculouses and made his wish real. He got his love back, Paris got its emotions back, but unknowingly something would never be back.

“Marinette? Marinette! No, no, no, no! Please don't give up on me!” A very familiar voice screamed inside his head, panic and hatred spreading more and more like a virus and becoming stronger that one thousand men. He knew those feelings too well and felt this nostalgic empathy for the unfortunate voice. Now he also knows the price to pay for his reckless attitude. But surprisingly he still thinks it was worth it. (Of course he thinks.)

Today, neither Papillon the hero and Papillon the villain are on duty, their opposite legacies being the only thing that keeps them alive. But somewhere in the centre of Paris, the man behind that mask carries the weight an innocent death as a price for his love.

#Gabriel Appreciation Week #We Are Miraculous #my writing #this ended up being a little different that what i thought in my head but i still like it tbh! #sorry if it seems a bit off the theme!

[stilljumpingback]

(via Black Sails Episode 403 - XXXI)

WELL-FORMED THOUGHTS

I love this show for refusing to allow viewers to make monsters out of any of our characters, despite HOW MUCH I want to villainize Berringer.  First we get him looking at pictures of his wife and child, and honestly, that doesn’t move me.  He could be reunited with them if he wanted.  He’s only stayed in Nassau to pursue a course of revenge, committing treason even to do so.

What DOES bother me is his speech about dark men doing dark deeds, and how easily I can imagine the same words coming from Flint’s mouth.

“You’ve given me good men to lead.  I’ll do my best by them.” “There isn’t a good man among them.  Not anymore.  Some of them may have been, before all this.  Some of them may be again on the other side of it.  But right now, good men are not what the moment requires.  Right now, the time calls for dark men to do dark things.  Do not be afraid to lead them to it.”

When Flint uses theater and leads his men into horrific atrocities, I support him because I support his end goal – overturning a corrupt empire and establishing a free world.  But when Berringer uses theater and leads HIS men into horrific atrocities, I am livid.  Granted, this is because he’s supporting that corrupt empire.  And in some ways, the ends definitely do justify the means.  But if we look beneath their political worldviews, in actuality they keep fighting because the world keeps fighting them.  It’s the cycle of vengeance I’ve been talking about.  The truth is, I support Flint because I like him, because I’m invested in his story.  If we’d had three seasons of Berringer’s story, would I emotionally support him in this moment?  Probably.

I do think the show wants us to support Flint, and I do think that Flint’s motivations are deepening beyond revenge to a more genuine desire to create something new.  BUT it is unquestionable that the showrunners want us to remember the power of narrative in shaping our allegiances, and to question why we see some people as good and others as bad, when really, they might not be so different.

FRAGMENTED THOUGHTS

Berringer basically tells Woodes Rogers that darkness is inevitable, and we shouldn’t be afraid to use it.  It is SO hard not to think Flint would agree with him.

Mrs. Hudson asks to go home after they’re done in Philadelphia.  Eleanor says yes and they’re both super happy before IMMEDIATELY finding out they aren’t going to Philadelphia.  This is about how everyone’s happiness goes in this show, huh?

Max is losing her power, exemplified by how men can burst into her room while she’s lounging naked in bed.

Maroon:  Whatever slaves are still alive on this island will never fight alongside a pirate again.  Not after last night. Madi:  Last night, there were also pirates who fought alongside us, against terrible odds and at great cost.  Billy and his men are our enemies now, but these men are not.

#TriumverateWatch:  Madi defends Flint!!  And as if the show doesn’t realize that my heart has already burst, the two proceed to have an inspiring conversation as equals and I loooooove them!!!

Madi:  You truly believe it is possible?  That as disadvantaged and disabled as we are, that anything we do here is going to make the least bit of difference to the men in London? Flint:  Well, that’s the trick, isn’t it?  If no one remembers a time before there was an England, then no one can imagine a time after it.  The empire survives in part because we believe its survival to be inevitable.  But it isn’t, and they know that.  That’s why they’re so terrified of you and I.  If we are able to take Nassau, if we are able to expose the illusion that England is not inevitable, if we are able to incite a revolt that spreads across the New World then, yeah, I imagine people are gonna notice. Madi:  “Too much sanity may be madness, and the maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be.”

Madi just used Don Quixote to describe Flint, AND THAT IS THE BOOK MIRANDA USED TO DESCRIBE THOMAS, byyyyyyye.

It is impossible to be reminded of the amazing partnership between James and Thomas and not see Flint and Madi having equally amazing potential.

Poor Anne.  She just wants to get away from all of this and have a boring life, but she’s chosen to partner herself to a man who can’t stop following giants in hopes of influencing them and thus feeling meaningful.

I love Idelle being the level-headed one to Featherstone’s panic.  She trusts in Max’s loyalty and stubbornness before saying they have to help her from the outside.  Eleanor then bursts in to help Max – are we to assume that Idelle told Eleanor what was going on?

THAT REUNION THOUGH.  Silver is about to die, but Flint comes to the rescue!!  There is so much contained emotion going on in these two men, and I can’t even.

Jack has to watch Teach and Anne lead the vanguard onto a spookily “empty” ship.  Why did no one notice that everyone hid themselves?  I’m so upset about everything here, I hate it, stop please.

Max:  You think you can control him.  And by the time you realize he has been controlling you, it is going to be too late.

Max is talking to Eleanor about Berringer, but it’s hard not to imagine she’s also talking about Woodes Rogers.

We know Eleanor is cultured now, because she says, “I beg your pardon, but what the fuck have you got to lose?”

THAT OTHER REUNION THOUGH.  Silver and Madi running to each other, kissing, staring into each other’s eyes!!

Flint is happy for them, but there’s a definite flicker of sadness in his expression.  Whether he’s sad because he loves Silver or because he wishes he had someone like they have each other, I honestly don’t care.  It’s compelling either way!

Eleanor now agrees with Max that the theater of power only exacerbates problems.  I like this questioning whether power exists to uphold order or to boost someone’s ego.

Berringer’s power play of reading the black spot aloud is actually VERY good, and I love how he becomes an interesting villain just before dying.  Because he’s too obvious.  The REAL villain is revealed in this episode to be:  Nice Guy Rogers.

Reader, I HATE HIM.

In flashback, he reveals his dark side to Berringer, telling the story he didn’t share in his book because he didn’t want the world to know what he is capable of.

The real evil here is not what he did in the past, because as despicable as it is, I can forgive a lot that is done in grief (see: my enduring love of James Flint).  What is horrible is that he is committed, rationally, a day before it happens, to doing the exact same thing to Teach and his crew, simply to prove a point.  I HATE HIM.

An admission:  I’ve never actually watched the keelhauling.  The first time I saw this episode, Rogers’ creepy voiceover and the music cued me in that something truly horrible was about to go down, so I Googled what happened to Teach and promptly skipped ahead.  Having listened to other people’s reactions to the scene, I’m super glad I did, and so I did the same again.  I’m so glad Teach stuck it to Rogers by refusing to die, but I do not need to let those images exist in my brain, thanks ever so much.

Berringer refuses to use Eleanor as an ally.  He ignores her suggestion to ambush Silver, thus ensuring his own death!!  What an idiot!

But also thank God.

BECAUSE HERE COME SILVER AND FLINT.  I love the look Flint gives Silver when the guns come out.  This is Silver’s first time fighting on the front line, and as a target, and Flint is concerned.

They seem alone in a small group, but suddenly slaves and maroons and pirates join them!  And there’s a fight!  And soldiers appear on the roofs but they are killed by Billy’s men!  I temporarily forgive Billy, but I’m glad Flint gives him a look during the battle because this isn’t over yet!!

Israel Hands takes out Berringer, which is fitting because he doesn’t deserve a death by one of our heroes.  What purpose does Hands’ long look at Silver/Flint serve?  Is it like, look at me, see my value?

Our last shot is of Berringer’s wife and child, and while I don’t have empathy for HIM, I do for those two.  It’s a good reminder that in all the passion and righteous anger that creates and perpetuates violence, the real victims are civilians.  But…I don’t want the fighting to stop until Flint and Madi’s vision of a free Nassau is realized.

#Black Sails #blacksails #James Flint #Captain Flint #John Silver #Long John Silver #Billy Bones #Eleanor Guthrie #Woodes Rogers #Berringer #Madi #Max #Anne Bonny #Jack Rackham #Edward Teach #THAT scene #The worst scene in the whole series