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sayafics · 10 months

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Dance of Shadows - Chapter I

Hi guys, I hope you enjoy the first chapter of this series!

I know the teaser was an excerpt of another chapter after Aemma died, but I wanted to add some context/depth to Daemon and Saenyra's relationship before that, since there's such a long gap in the timeline before he returns to Kings Landing after beating the Crabfeeder.

I hope I got the timeline right, and I do hope this lives up to your expectations! Please let me know what you think, all comments and reblogs are appreciated <33 thank you to everyone who showed love on tha teaser excerpt!

Next Chapter

Masterlist

Saenyra had just spent the last few hours lounging in the library, browsing through books ranging from histories of the Seven Kingdoms and how they came to be, to the myths and legends of dragons and other beings which lurked the lands they inhabited and the seas they wished to rule, to charming scrawls of love written in between lines of literature and poetry.

She had finally found a book she was content with, eager to return to her room before divulging its contents. If she were to hurry, she was sure she would be able to finish before it was time for dinner.

With the book held in one hand, Saenyra used the other to gather the skirt of her dress. Whilst her sister preferred to adorn herself in gowns of black and red - the designs grand yet mature for her age, Saenyra deigned to dress herself in shades which resembled the skies on a warm autumn eve or the sun on a bright summer's day. She would parade around the Keep in hues of yellows and blues, greens and pinks - whatever it was that her heart so desired.

As she made her way through the Keep, eyes roving around the walls as she treaded through corridors and weaved past bowing knights and respectful Lords, she turned the corner only to bump into a solid figure.

Saenyra stumbled back, her hand letting go of her skirt to brush against her forehead as she took in the figure in front of her, a slight pout on her lips. Her eyes found her smudged reflection glinting in a shining and tainted armour, gleaming in the light of a new day but stained with the signs of a bloodied battle.

Her eyes continued their path until they met a set of familiar violet hues.

Oh.

Before her stood Daemon Targaryen, looking as though he had slaughtered an army single-handedly. His eyes were bright with the thrill of a good fight. He looked lively, and if she peered closely enough, she could see how he trembled with unbound energy that coursed through his veins.

At the sight of his niece, the one so quiet and quaint who looked up at him with wide eyes and parted lips, Daemon found an unfamiliar softness seep into his features, "niece, my apologies."

He rarely saw his little niece around the Keep when he did come, he preferred to keep company with whores and dragons.

It was with poorly hidden determination that Rhaenyra would find him, trailing his every step.

When Rhaenyra had found him before his bloodbath in the city, he had gifted her a necklace. A piece of shared ancestry, a piece of home. Now, glancing at Saenyra's bare throat, he wished it had adorned her instead.

Daemon was not one for apologies, even Saenyra was aware of that. So, to hear the words brought a heat upon her cheeks as her gaze became down-turned, "I fear I must apologise too, dear uncle. I must have become too distracted with my thoughts."

A smirk tugged at Daemon's lips at the sight of her bashfulness, amusement colouring his features as he spoke, a teasing tone tainting his innocent words, "ah yes. I believe it is only right if you make it up to me then, don't you think?"

Daemon had never spoken to his neice in such a way, too fearful of what his brother might do. Of what he, himself, might do.

Daemon could not be the reason his darling niece shed tears. He would not forgive himself if he was the reason she were to break.

Seanyra's head had never looked up so fast, eyes flitting around the corridor as she leaned closely, as though she was sharing a secret - "of course. Only if you promise not to tell Kepa." Father.

The easy slip of High Valyrian made Daemon heady with the desire to hear it again, and his eyes burned into her at the eagerness she showed as she was desperate to make things right. His smirk grew broader at the show of her naivety, but still - he would make no fool of his sweet neice, his little 'nyra.

"Anything for my Zaldrītsos." Little Dragon.

Her heart twisted slightly at the endearment, despite the heat that flushed her body once more - although said good-naturedly, the word was a stark reminder that the only dragon the girl had was the one pumping through her blood. It was a subtle reminder of the differences between Saenyra and her sister, of how Rhaenyra has conquered a dragon and emanated a fierce and challenging nature, whilst Saenyra was simply a dragon by name.

Daemon could see how her eyes dimmed at the word, hated how her smile wavered - the Seven Kingdoms would rave about the similarities between Daemon and Rhaenyra, how the two had fire running through their veins and charging their souls, how they would burn each other to ash should they get too close. And with Saenyra, they would whisper about her lack of spark, how she didn't have the charm of a Targaryen, nor the fire of one too.

All that tied her to the Targaryen line was her silver-white hair and lilac eyes.

But a part of Daemon, a dark and repressed echo that grew louder as the days went by, found that he preferred it as such. She was a calm summer evening, a quiet winter's day.

Daemon was chaos, and Saenyra was peace.

Her voice broke him out of his reverie, "so, what is it that you want?"

There was a curious smile on her lips, her eyes searching his as she became impatient. He huffed a laugh, teeth bared in a broad grin - "I guess you shall have to wait and see."

Daemon knew what he would ask. He had been thinking of doing so from the moment he had stepped foot back in King's Landing and seen his Saenyra. She had grown tall, her hair flowing down her back is careless ruffles, flowers twisted between the intricate braids that adorned her head as a circlet rested atop her brows. Her gowns were tight fitting, the neck would swoop low, or her arms would be bare of fabric, and sometimes, if he was lucky, careful patterns would be cut into the lining of her waist to reveal the milky skin that lay underneath.

Daemon would be lying if he said a part of him hadn't grown feral at the sight, something dark and desperate coming to life within him as his desires for Saenyra grew stronger.

It was something unexpected, especially by him. He had expected, if anyone, it would be Rhaenyra he would pursue. The two were in a silent battle for the place of heir at Viserys' behest, fervent prayers that the next child Aemma gave birth to would not be a boy. So it would make sense to present a united front. To present themselves as a joint option, a better choice to the other heirs Viserys would force his wife to bear.

But Rhaenyra and Daemon had the fire of a dragon running through them, and they would ultimately burn each other and leave nothing but destruction in their wake.

Daemon cleared his throat, forcing himself to stray from his traiterous thoughts and focus on his task - he had to attend the meeting with the Council, he had to reach Viserys before they filled his head with lies about Daemon - before they seeded doubt and had him sent from the Seven Kingdoms once more.

"I must take leave now, dear niece."

Daemon skirted around the girl, his golden cloak billowing behind him, the soft and bloodied material brushing against her cheek in an imitation of affection he longed to show himself. His moves were slow and sluggish as though he was hoping she'd stop him. And she did exactly that - "where are you going, Kepus?" Uncle.

He inhaled sharply at the Valyrian word, there was a frown on her lips as her head twisted in question and Daemon felt as though he would kneel for her and give all of himself right there, if she had simply asked.

Her hand came to hold his own as she tugged at his fingers. Daemon risked a glance down, eyes tracing over her nimble fingers and how they dwarfed against his own. She tugged again, "Kepus."

The word was stressed and elongated, hoping to catch the man's attention as he kept gazing off to a place far from where she could see.

"The King wants to see me," it wasn't a complete lie, but it was an easy one, "I wouldn't want to keep them waiting."

She nodded, understandingly. But there was a part of her left unsure by his words, Daemon was never one to obey with such ease - always at the ready to challenge those around him, including his own brother. Even if he was King.

It seemed, however, his words were enough to snap her into a state of disinterest, she turned away from him with such ease and continued on her way, a soft "I shall see you later, then," passed over her shoulders with a friendly smile as she walked away from him.

Daemon found he could do nothing but watch.

***

Saenyra hadn't left her chambers much after her encounter with her uncle - with no dragon to tend to, and the lack of duties as a second-born and the burden of being a girl, she had no pending responsibilities. Left in the confines of her room, she made due with what she had - her books.

There was not much else to do in King's Landing, with no Kingsguard assigned to her yet, she was not free to roam the cities that belonged to her father.

Saenyra ate in her chambers, despite the call for her to join her family in her father's - were she to join, she was sure the room would be full of praises for a successful Rhaenyra - whether it was how she was getting on with her lessons with the Septa or a new dragon-riding trick mastered, or whispers of possibilities of their future son - a new heir and a new King in the making.

Anything but Saenyra.

All throughout the hours of the night, even as she laid her head to rest, her mind would tiptoe back to the voice of her uncle.

Despite all his time in the Keep, and all his trips out, Saenyra had never been able to bond with her uncle the way she wishes she had. The way Rhaenyra had.

Daemon had been the Master of Laws, the Master of Coin, and now Commander of the City Watch. And throughout it all, she had been unable to bond with her uncle in a way she was desperate for ever since she was a child. She remained oblivious to his glances and heated stares, to the dark whispers in his mind and the temptation that lurked under every passive graze and touch.

It was instead Rhaenyra who found him, who bonded with him. Who found common ground in their love for riding and dragons and violence. Rhaenyra who adored her uncle as he adored her. As everyone adored her, in a way Saenyra craved for them to cherish her.

The two would gush over dragons and tales of battles and wars, a wistful tone taking over Rhaenyra's voice as she spewed questions at her uncle whenever he dined with them, and a look of admiration would sparkle in Daemon's eyes as he answered every question with ease.

Saenyra would sit quietly, never speaking aloud unless spoken to, and even that was quite rare. So, for her uncle to say he wants something from her? It was a surprise, indeed. And a bubbling sensation of guilt began to fester as she realised that she felt excitement build at the prospect. What would Rhaenyra think? Would she be hurt? Jealous?

Saenyra was not blind to how Rhaenyra was captivated by Daemon, how she craved him and called to him. Although Daemon was both of their uncle, there was an unspoken claim placed upon him from the moment Rhaenyra was old enough to articulate her fascination with the man. A silent boundary, a whispered challenge Saenyra had never dared to overstep. And she was worried she may now.

Would he ask to take her dragon-riding? Perhaps he would ask her to steal him some lemon cakes, as he had when she was much younger? Or maybe he would ask for a favour she couldn't provide.

Perhaps, he wanted her help to get Rhaenyra something. Or to tell her something.

Saenyra wasn't blind to Daemon's own infatuation with her sister, whether it was because of her claim to the throne or her violent beauty. The man was enamoured, even if he tried to deny so.

She resigned herself to the idea of having to wait until Daemon had finally asked her whatever it was he decided, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she rolled onto her side and faced the open balcony windows, watching as the soft winds blew a quiet tune through the curtains. Her eyes traced over the dark shadows of King's Landing, her eyes finding the moon and seeking comfort in its shallow glow.

With steady breaths, she fell asleep quickly, her mind flashing with images she had long learned to ignore. What good is being a dragon dreamer when you are unable to tame one?

***

In the cities of King's Landing, Daemon had taken to throwing himself in the arms of lust as he sought out ways to expel his energy and frustration in the brothels of Silk Street.

He had been here for perhaps hours now, gyrating and grinding against the softness of his paramour. Mysaria wasn't a quiet lover, her moans drawing an audience as he pounded relentlessly, chasing a high that escaped him at every turn.

No matter how hard he tried, how much he relied on his imagination - it wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't who he needed.

The meeting with the Small Council hadn't ended badly, but Otto's reminders of his duties to the Bronze Bitch of the Vale continued to follow him. A dark reminder that although his marriage was not consumated, in the eyes of the Seven Kingdoms and in the eyes of his brother, Daemon was a married man. And even if Targaryen men had taken on second wives before, he knew his brother would never accept such an ordeal.

But still, such moral obligations hadn't stopped him from chasing his pleasure in brothels and amongst whores. Yet, Mysaria's dark hair was a pitying reminder of the woman he felt no love nor lust for and so proved to be a dampener for his fun, amongst other things.

He sighed out of frustration, halting his hips as he laid his head against Mysaria's shoulders. He pulled out roughly, tugging a blanket over his naked form as he trudged towards the window in a hollowing mix of rage and despair. His eyes found the stars, seeking comfort in their luminous glow as his mind flitted over myths and legends of constellations etched into the dark sky.

Mysaria followed, consoling the man as she praised him. But her words had no effect on him, so she offered him something more instead.

"I could bring in another? Perhaps one with silver hair."

Daemon was tempted to say yes, urged to give in to his fantasies and imagine.

But it wouldn't be what he wanted. No, the whores of Silk Street - the bastards of the Targaryen line, although their hair grew white it wasn't the right shade. Too different for him to be able to pretend.

And Daemon didn't want to pretend.

Twisting his fingers and tugging strands of golden-white hair were a mere illusion for the girl he pretended he wanted.

The girl he truly desired was one he would never taint, her hair brighter and longer - the wisps of her soft, white hair were their own streaks of light, like beaming stars in the night sky.

No, it wouldn't be the same.

It wouldn't be what he wanted - what he needed.

Daemon Targaryen wanted Saenyra. But he knew he could not have her.

He would not take her, for fear of corrupting her. Of ruining her, and breaking her beyond repair.

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta

#daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #otto hightower #house of the dragon #hotd #smut #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #dance of shadows

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marinersubmariner · 2 years

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The twitter mess has got me thinking about livejournal and fandom platforms in general, so here’s a lot of words that mostly amount to me being old and sad!!

The past couple years I’ve really struggled with the pull to start using twitter because so much fandom activity moved over there, while at the same time being held back by knowing that it would not be a satisfying experience for me. I lurk there a little, and it’s alright in small doses, but it just doesn’t work for the types of fandom posts that I can contribute or that I want to see. And it has increasingly frustrated me how much people post fanart exclusively over there when its formatting is awful for fanart (no archives! no organized tagging system! completely unbrowseable by subject matter or time period! everything disappears in .02 seconds if it even crosses your view at all! WOW SO GREAT. I get that it lets you post porn but that isn’t a big draw for me :/ yeah, I know, what am I even doing on the internet)

My preferred form of fandom is images and graphics and art and long-form commentary and twitter just isn’t made for those things. You can kind of jury-rig it for them I guess (weirdly cropped 2-to-4-image photosets, hmm. great. threaded tweets??? you know there was a time when you could put all your related thoughts into a single post!) but it’s obviously designed for brief little texts and I’m too self-conscious about writing things for that to ever work for me. The way I see it is you can absolutely tweet on tumblr but you cannot make a tumblr post on twitter, and that’s the fundamental disconnect that has prevented me from leaving. I’m not compelled to go to a platform with fewer and worse features. (well, that plus the fact that I no longer have any friends to follow in the way that I followed the crowd from livejournal to tumblr. why bother!!! NOBODY’S LISTENING! —Cassian Andor about posting on social media)

I totally understand people mourning what could be the loss of years of fandom activity on that site, but at the same time its immediacy has always made it appear more fleeting to me anyway. Obviously you can scrounge up old posts if you really dig around, but without archives or functional tags it has never seemed to be a platform that encourages a long lifespan for anything posted there. Which is of course the trade-off for it being so current and of-the-moment, but I also think it’s detrimental to the fandom ecosystem as a whole, and on a personal level I’m too much of a hoarder for that kind of disposability to work for me. I like to keep things in my little treasure trove and continually pore over it with fondness. :(

I also just have too much anxiety, uh, in general, but especially with instantaneous forms of communication, so I get extremely avoidant about anything fast-paced. Chats always made me nervous, I don’t like texting, it all makes me a little too frazzled to do for fun. I was okay with message boards and lj comments because there wasn’t as much expectation of a quick response (and of course there was way more separation of Internet Time when you didn’t have a smartphone on you 24/7. boundaries!!!! never heard of them). A lot of this is purely mental hangups because I’m perfectly capable of communication, but it’s stressful and exhausting and the internet is filled with increasing pressure to never say the wrong thing (which is already a pressure in my head!!) so to add forced brevity and urgency on top of that... it makes me so uncomfortable and it’s such an enormous barrier when the foundation for literally everything is communication. Words are hard!!! I’m not terrible at it but there’s always an excessive amount of deliberation involved and it’s such a difficult thing to grapple with all the time. Constantly, forever. The mortifying ordeal of SELECTING WORDS to make yourself known!!!!!!!

I guess also nothing has ever been as conducive to discussion and replies as lj. Tumblr replies are so limited and reblogging to add your own commentary is a totally different thing. Private messages are there, but there’s no decent mechanism for open back-and-forth conversation. So even while part of me is glad that people might come back here, more activity on my preferred platform doesn’t change the fact that I still feel dissatisfied with the way all of this operates in general. Tumblr is better than twitter, but even tumblr isn’t that great.

To be honest I’ve become so fuckin weird about this stuff that I now essentially use google docs like a private secret livejournal. I type out my thoughts constantly as though I were writing an actual post to share and then I never share it. Which is probably. insane. But in the era of social media all fandom stuff either seems like way too public a forum full of jerks or it’s seen by nobody anyway so why bother. There don’t seem to be comfortable niche spaces anymore, or if there are I never found them, and besides that I’m too shy and too tired to seek them out and work up the energy to interact. So I just talk to myself like a lunatic. It’s super healthy I’m sure!!!!

I also just really miss how I felt on the internet and in fandom spaces when I was younger, making pointless little websites and graphics and posting photographs just because I wanted to. And obviously I still make things because I WANT to, but the act of actually posting to the internet now and the way that others engage with it seems so much more transactional than it used to. I got into making graphics when it was only like a handful of people on a message board sharing things with each other, and it’s wild how much more fulfilling and encouraging it was to have just a few familiar people make comments than it is to get likes and reblogs. A little number ticker on a post is like... that’s it? That’s all there is? It’s so hollow and mechanical.

Sort of the best way I can think of to describe how it feels to me is that it used to be more like being the proprietor of a quaint storefront where you peddled your wares and people could come and go and chat as they please, and now it’s more like tossing one of your wares onto a highway where it gets driven over at 80mph. And certainly that perception is skewed by rose-colored nostalgia about ~the way things used to be~, I’m much older now so I’m sure my temperament has changed a lot too, I slowed down while everything else sped up, time makes fools of us all, etc. But I’ve seen enough people express similar things about the modern internet that I do think maybe it’s not just me.

I don’t know, unless you’ve been following me since livejournal this probably all sounds like nonsense coming from a silent lurker who barely even posts. I’ve always been much more reticent on tumblr because it feels so exposed—the potential for things to spiral way outside of your orbit is both scary and annoying. But I guess I just don’t really know how to participate in fandom anymore in the way it exists now. I don’t have a community and it feels impossible to break back in amongst The Youths. I don’t have the energy to contribute as much as I want to, and then when I do expend the energy it seems like a waste of time because it’s stuff that either goes entirely unseen or it gets silently viewed and disposed of in an infinitesimal fraction of the time it took to put together. So there are these two warring impulses of: this is making you unhappy and you should stop vs. it doesn’t matter if you’re entirely alone when you’re still having fun by yourself with your special interest that you enjoy. And I don’t know how to reconcile the two.

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sungbeam · 1 year

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I reblogged your post abt that ask a bit ago… and I do have something to ask

Like… I love gushing in asks abt fics bc it feels like a comfortable way for me to express my feelings on certain fics, and while I don’t reblog (lurking habits die hard unfortunately still) I always try to send something so at the very least you know I read it… and idk it feels more personal like as if I just bumped into you on the way to class and I needed to excitedly gush abt something that gave me joy? Idk how to start making reblogs a habit and I never learned how to stop liking posts and reblogging them cause when I write tags I can’t type fast (plus I like sorting my posts under diff tags but making those every time takes a while) with my typing style and I just find it faster to send an ask instead…

- 🃏

hey 🃏 nonie!! okay i totally get where ur coming from, and ig it's just really preference btwn typing out thoughts in rbs vs asks. i don't mind either really? i appreciate seeing ur asks so much, and a lot of times, i don't mind if it's either or yk, just so long as i don't feel like im screaming to the void 😅 and for sure, i agree that asks feel more personally engaging :]

hmmm i think what helped me get into the habit of reblogging is just reminding myself how much *i* like seeing other people's reblogs. i actually type pretty fast on my phone 😭😭 so yelling in rbs and tags isn't too bad, but if it's a little harder for u, u could probably either just reblog in gen, OR as @/seungcheollies-cake does, save the reblog to drafts to come back to later! im a person where if it's in drafts, i might not come back to it, so i just get my thoughts out in the moment, but maybe u can try the drafts idea ?

(but again, i don't mind people sending asks abt my work instead,, so don't stress too much!! im not sure how other writers feel on this subject, but what i reblogged this morning was my frustration just from readers lack of interaction in general :'))

#sungbeam strikes again #🃏 anon #i do appreciate u sending ur thoughts and thanks so much for asking abt this as well :')#thank u for caring 💖💖

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ddaengstudies · 3 years

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Winter Wonderland Studyblr Challenge

I've been gone for some time, so may this also serve you as notice that I am indeed coming back stronger lol. I've just been silently lurking as it has been a pretty rough time but I love seeing everyone's content and know that I'm rooting for everyone.

❄️☃️🌟 INFO.

2021 has been a year, come and gone fast yet somehow not fast enough and as the year wraps up, and the holiday season means for us to reconnect with other people, I thought we could also reconnect with ourselves so may I bring to you a 21 days long challenge that is meant for us to reflect on our year as we hopefully also get to share some studyblr holiday content.

The challenge is starting on November 25th and ending on December 15th HOWEVER feel free to do it whenever you'd like.

Most of the prompts are meant to reflect on our year but if your answer for one day is pretty personal feel free to post the prompt without an answer, the whole thing is about inner work.

The end of the year can be tough to some peeps so know that this a safe place, don't feel obligated to anything, I love you and support you so much! I'm always here for a chat if you need it!

❄️☃️🌟 AIMS.

I'm low-key looking forward to reconnecting with all you beautiful hardworking people.

As I've said before, this is aiming at inner personal work so that we can wind down a little bit with the upcoming end of the year.

❄️☃️🌟 RULES.

If you are planning on being part of this challenge please reblog this post so I can keep a close eye on your content and hype you up!

There are 21 prompts for this challenge however feel free not to post daily/ post whenever it is possible for you/whenever you feel like it.

When posting please use the hashtag #ww studyblr challenge (or #winter wonderland studyblr challenge if you'd prefer but I personally think the last one is kinda lengthy, I'll be monitoring both anyways)

Please be respectful! As most prompts are aimed at self reflection, have in mind that all our contexts are different and we have different insights in life. This is meant to be a safe space

PLEASE use your own original content. It is all about your own work and progress, don't steal other people's work and claim it as your own.

❄️☃️🌟 PROMPTS.

DAY 1. If you were to describe how this year has been for you in a quote (of your own or someone's else's) what would it be?

DAY 2. What is one lesson that you've learned from the events that 2021 has brought to you?

DAY 3. If you're into holiday music/movies/stories go ahead and recommend us a few! If you're not into that, still recommend us something even if it's not holiday-themed.

DAY 4. Tell us a memory you're fond of that happened this year.

DAY 5. This is a break day! hit us with whatever you'd like to share with us while I remind you that I love you so much and I thank you for all of your hard work this year!

DAY 6. What is something that you're leaving behind in 2021 that no longer serves you right for this upcoming 2022?

DAY 7. Looking back to 2020, how far have you come? (no matter how big or small your steps have been or if you've had to pause along the way)

DAY 8. Is there something that you would have done differently this year?

DAY 9. Is there something that you specially like/dislike about holiday season?

DAY 10. Take this day to say something nice towards yourself and all the effort you've put into this year!

DAY 11. What is some advice you'd like to give to yourself from the start of 2021?

DAY 12. We must know, with winter comes a lot of seasonal products, tell us about some of your faves (drinks, food, rituals, fashion, etc)

DAY 13. BREAK DAY! Remember to stay hydrated and let this day be showered with love!

DAY 14. Is there something you're already looking forward to in 2022 (it's okay if you're not, if not then could you picture something you'd like to be looking forward?)

DAY 15. What is something that had sounded so scary when the year started but now... not so much

DAY 16. We're following yesterday's prompt, is there something that comes to mind about 2022 that sounds scary to you?

DAY 17. Tag some people you'd like to congratulate for their hard work this year

DAY 18. What are some things in 2021 that energised you? And some that drained you?

DAY 19. Tell us about something you ventured into this year

DAY 20. Is there something left unfinished this year that you're looking forward to continuing in 2022/ you're leaving behind?

DAY 21. Treat yourself with kindness! Write to yourself as you would a friend in the light of an upcoming new year.

❄️☃️🌟 TAGLIST.

I'm adding the people that reblog this post or reply to it wanting to be added.

Those that choose to be on the tag list will be reminded one day before the challenge starts in case you'd like to start the challenge along with me, it's okay if you start the challenge after/before, I'll still reblog your content so long as you use the tag (the tag might be a reminder of the challenge existence)

#studyblr #studyblr challenge #ww studyblr challenge #studyspo #studyinspo #study motivation #studygram #study notes #study inspo #study inspiration

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years

Note

NSFW (whole alphabet) for Maul?

A/N: PLEASE REMEMBER TO COMMENT AND REBLOG IF YOU LIKE THIS! HEADCANONS NEED LOVE TOO YOU KNOW! (Also the tags are not working because they hate me)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s gentle, shockingly so. No matter how rough or intense, his entire demeanor shifts. He treats you like glass; caressing your skin, cleaning your mess, and reveling in the lingering warmth. He becomes one clingy bitch is what I’m getting at here.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your throat. He loves how you leave it so open to him, to kiss or bite or squeeze as he wishes. It’s a sign of trust, not to mention it leads down to your chests and all the other soft parts attached. (He’s a boob man, that’s all I’m saying)

As for himself, he likes his hands. They still hold his true strength. They can still wield the force to his will; to destroy his enemies or to place a gentle touch to your cheek. He’s amazed that you can allow him to touch you after how much his hands have done.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He makes a mess whenever you fuck. He likes to cum on you; on your tits, stomach, back, face, anywhere. But he really loves cumming inside you and watching it drip from your sex. Even if he can’t give you children, the idea of burying his seed in you is an instinct he can’t shake. Would love nothing more than to keep his cock inside you and fill you again and again with him cum until it spills out on the bed.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

There are times he purposefully makes you angry because he knows how you’ll punish him later. He’s not sure if you’ve caught on or not, but either way you play into his scheme perfectly.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very before you. He was taken by Sidious at a very young age; as a Sith he was trained to forgo attachments and obey his master at every turn. Sidious would not allow his apprentice any chance to form a connection with another aside from taking him back to Dathomir to fulfill a coming of age ritual where he was taken by a Night Sister. After that, nothing.

But, for what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in his willingness to learn. He asks what you want, what you like. He feels your reactions through the force and demonstrates a control you hadn’t found in previous lovers. He can be patient when it counts.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves it when you’re both kneeling, with you straddling his waist a he thrusts up into you. He’s able to reach deep inside you while allowing either of you to gain control as you wish it. Not to mention easy access to your throat and breasts as he clings to you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Maul is 99.9% of the time completely serious during sex. Either his focus is entire on your pleasure or you’ve given him permission to work out his frustrations using your body. The only time he’d crack a joke is if he’s feels particularly smug about the way he’s making you feels and wants to tease you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

No hair down below, because, well...he doesn’t really have a natural below. I doubt Mother Talzin added hair just for the fun of it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

As I said before Maul has two modes; I need to fuck away my feelings OR you are the most important thing in the galaxy let me show you why. When he’s in mode two, he’s the most intimate and romantic partner you can ask for, almost desperate in his attempt to show you how you make him feel. If it’s option one, you’ll have to wait until after the sex to get the same treatment.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Pre-Naboo, he kept it on the down low. He could only allow himself a moment’s release when his master wasn’t around. And even then, it was only when he was particularly stressed or angry. It was done quickly with no real thought of pleasure, just some kind of release if he couldn’t do it through violence.

After Naboo, it’s not really something he does because well...there’s not much down there for a good long while and after he gets some of his...parts back, he meets you. With you, he doesn’t feel as compelled to use his hands.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink. He can’t give you children, obviously, but there’s an almost instinct there. Just another thing Kenobi took away form him.

Also, not sure if it’s a kink, but he’s an absolute switch. One minute he’s squeezing your neck while using you as his personal cum bucket. The next, he’s tied to the bed begging and promising you the galaxy if you just let him cum.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He’s a bit of an exhibitionist. As much as he wants to be the only one to see you naked and writhing underneath him, there’s something about fucking you on the throne of Mandalor that sends a thrill up his spine. Anyone can walk in and know that he’s the one making you feel this way. He has the power to fuck you in front of the whole of Death Watch if he wanted to and none of them could touch you. They would know you were his and as their leader they would not dare oppose him.

So, in terms of most common place, your bedroom. In terms of most thrilling place, the throne room, followed by the war room, and then the training room.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You getting angry is the hottest thing in the galaxy to him. If you direct that anger into destroying your enemies in combat, even better. He’ll take you the second you’re alone in the ship.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Roleplaying. It’s you and him, that’s it. He doesn’t want or need to “spice things up”.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers giving. He loves your taste and how easily he can get you to cum with just his tongue. He can feel your pleasure through the force which only drives his further. Granted he needs to be mindful of where his horns are when you clamp him head between your thighs but that’s neither here nor there.

He’ll certainly accept you going down on him, but he knows it’s not as pleasurable for you to have a metal cock in your mouth no matter how good it feels for him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can be slow an sensual, but it almost always devolves into rough desperation. He’s a man of wild passions and it shows in the marks on your thighs the next morning.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You’re almost always the one to initiate them. He says he can wait until the evening, but he’s often left working well into the night and forgets. You take it upon yourself to strive into his office and tell him you need a good fuck. That will get him away from the paper work long enough to leave your legs shaking and his mind a little more clear.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s willing to try something you propose so long as you discuss it properly before hand. He wants to make sure you’re safe before trying anything.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

It’s absolutely insane how high his stamina is. For one, he’s got a mechanical cock that doesn’t actually get soft even after he cums. Second, his reliance on the force allows him to recoup faster than normal. He can go for an many rounds as you can stand for as long as you want.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

That will be a negative. He doesn’t have any toys and the idea of you having a toy when all you have to do is ask he finds more than a little insulting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He always does it when he’s trying to win an argument or make a point, and it’s infuriating. He likes hearing you beg or admit he was right all while he teases you clit with the promise of more.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Maul gets loud. It’s almost a defiance. His master would not allow him anything like this singular happiness with another being and now he’s taking it at his own pleasure. He screams and growls and moans and begs and every other noise in the book. He wants people to hear.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Maul wants to have kids with you, and that fact that he can’t really aches at him. He wants something that is truly his own; a legacy outside of the Sith, a final defiance to the master who abandoned him. They would be the best of both of you and unparalleled in their power. Nothing would stand in their way. He can see it in his minds eye every time you fall asleep in his arms. But, it can never be. If Mother Talzin had figured out a way to make life without the need of Zabrak men, he wouldn’t have been a Night Brother in the first place.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Like I’ve said, Maul’s entire lower half is mechanical, including his cock. Mother Talzin made him one which retracts back in when he’s not aroused. It’s shaped like a Zabrak male: three ridges, each wider than the last giving him good length and girth (look up Nova: Bad Dragon). It also gives him pleasure, which is better than a dilo and excretes a synthetic cum when he climaxes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

It’s not so much a sex drive as a yearning for you. There are times he just wants you, to hold you close, to bury himself inside you and forget anything exists outside of you. It’s in flux, but it’s certainly higher than most men you’ve known. You’re having sex at least every other night if not more.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t dare fall asleep until you do. He likes the feeling of your body relaxing beside his as you drift off. He likes knowing you trust him to keep you safe, even in sleep. Only when he knows there’s nothing lurking in the dark to take you away does he finally fall asleep.

#darth maul #maul #darth maul x reader #maul x reader #the clone wars #star wars #star wars imagine #lemon

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novantinuum · 4 years

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Tides of Renewal (SU one-shot)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (Mild TW for vague allusions to past suicidal thoughts.)

Words: 2500~

Summary: Now twenty years old and living on the other side of the country, Steven spends his morning relaxing on the beach, musing about his past, and having a chat with his dad.

Hi folks! This is actually my two-months-late “Happy Birthday, Steven” fic, ahah- amusingly, posted two months late to the day. I’m quite happy with how this short turned out.

If you read this and enjoy, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well. AO3 link will be provided in the reblogs. Thank you! <3

____

Tides of Renewal

Steven rises alongside the sun, but not by choice.

As he abruptly stirs, jerking onto his side under his tangled blanket, he soon realizes that he has little lingering memory of the nightmare that shook him from his slumber. Nevertheless, his heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hanging in his throat. There’s feelings, faint impressions— someone’s blood (his, or hers?), Connie’s screams, a bubble of terror boiling from within— but that’s all he’s left with. The young man clutches at his sheets, struggling to catch his breath as is the norm most mornings. Dim light sneaks in between the edges of the curtains, offering a rough estimate of the time.

Once it’s clear his chances of sleeping in have become null and void, he entices himself out of bed with the promise of buying himself a muffin at the local coffee shop later today, a birthday treat. His routine is sluggish, but precise. He uses the bathroom, throws on his swim trunks and a thin cotton shirt, downs the pills he forgot to take last night with a quick swig of water, carefully runs his fingers through his long curls to work out the tangles, and slips his feet into the flip flops he always leaves lying right at the foot of his bed.

The young adult only takes his guitar, phone, and keys with him as he walks the mile distance from his humble studio apartment to the public beach. Around him, the world is at peace. The only sound intermingling with the gentle ebb and flow of the Pacific at this hour of the morning is the chattering of puffins that nest on the large rock outcroppings in the tide pools nearby. The edge of his lip quirks up when he finally crosses that sacred boundary— the sidewalk meeting the shore— and removes his sandals, reveling in the satisfying, grainy texture of sand squishing between his toes. Hah... the beach. Funny, that. All his traveling these past years, from mountains, to prairies, to sprawling suburbs to wooded forest towns, and it only succeeded in deepening his childhood love for the familiarity of saltwater air and tourist-filled boardwalks. Still, the secluded, rustic charm of Haystack Cove is a far cry from the Beach City he grew up in. Different people, different sights, different types of seafood sold at the markets. This place feels like a home all his own, appropriately distant from the Gem influenced settlement he’d left behind.

He crosses the fine grained sands towards his favorite sitting spot, a hefty stone jutting out from the ground, its surface buffed to a glossy finish over the years by the high tides. The water’s still distant this early in the morning, glimmers of sunlight sparkling off of the foam and spray. Yawning, he plops himself down on the stone and lifts his guitar into his lap. He strums a few random chords as a warm-up before settling into an experimental melodic sequence.

As he plays, the early morning breeze teases at the ends of his shoulder-length hair, untied and let free in all its curly splendor. It’s still quite chilly, but with the sun peaking over the horizon behind him and not a cloud in sight, the air’s bound to heat up in no time. Steven inhales deeply, soaking in the salt and light and pushing away the shadows lurking at the periphery of his mind, that twitching, exhausting anxiety that never quite seems to leave him alone these days. Unfortunately, functional does not mean carefree. While far fewer in number then when he was a teen, he still runs into plenty of moments where he’s struck blind by particularly painful reminders of his past, his gem snapping into overdrive in an instant. He’s a bit better at coping in these moments now, and walking himself down from panic attacks, but deep-rooted traumas don’t simply melt away. With that in mind, at this point he suspects he’ll likely have to deal with a mixture of therapy and meds for the rest of his life. That’s fine, though. If that’s what it takes to be at peace. He’s thankfully reached a point in his recovery where he’s more than willing to work for it.

Startling him out of his roaming thoughts, his phone chimes to life, touting the same cheery ring tone he had as a kid. He gently sets his guitar down in the sand and fishes his cell phone out of his pocket, a silent bet as to who’s calling rising within his mind. Sure enough, his dad’s contact photo proudly greets him. Hah— he called it. Steven stifles a giggle as he hits accept and lifts the phone to his ear.

“Hey, Dad!”

“Hey, Schtu-ball!” his father chimes from the other side of the country, three hours ahead. He hears a faint shuffle over the line, and then the beginnings of guitar accompaniment as the man begins to sing:

“Happy birthday to you~!”

Dad ends the line with a resounding vibrato, and a few extra jazzy chords for good measure.

“Heh heh, thanks,” he says, bashfully blushing at the attention, and gazing across the loose sands as if ensuring the secret of his birth hasn’t swelled into a nauseatingly public affair like half of his birthdays had since the start of Era 3. “Gotta say, the impromptu guitar solo pushed that to a whole new level. You just get up?”

“Yep! Bright and early. Garnet said you’d probably be awake by now, so I figured I’d call and give ya’ a good greeting to start the day. Lemme guess, you’re down there at the beach already? I think I heard waves.”

Steven’s glance lifts to admire the slowly rising tides, and the promise of each tomorrow that lies beyond. “Hah, you know me,” he says softly, taking a deep lungful of that precious salt-touched air he’s always adored. “I live for the water. Might force myself to go for a swim later before all of you come. Not sure yet,” he says, shrugging as he turns and squints in the wake of the steadily rising sun. “But my therapist said I should probably keep as active as po—“

“It’s your birthday. You do whatever makes you happy, bud,” his dad promptly reminds him, slight concern sticking to his voice. And yes, it’s practically a father’s job to worry, but his chest tightens with lingering guilt for pressing that upon him anyways. Ugh, this is because he said ‘force myself,’ isn’t it?

“Doing my best to,” he lamely offers, hoping it’ll at least end that segment of conversation. He twirls a stray strand of hair around his finger as he scours his memory for something new to offer. Thankfully, his mind quickly lands on the exciting email he received last night. He grins, knowing for sure his dad’ll love this. “Oh, uh- topic change, but I got that last job I applied for, by the way.”

“Oh? The taffy shop one?”

“Yeah! I start on Tuesday.”

“Wow, that’s- that’s awesome! They responded fast, then.”

“Yup,” Steven nods, popping the ‘p.’ “Honestly, it’s nothing much, just stocking and working the register, but it’ll give me some cash to work with.”

Some cash to finally pay for his own food instead of continuously bumming money off his dad. There’s no way he can handle full month’s rent on his own with this minimum wage job, (who on Earth could in this economy), but it might be enough to cover the smaller things. Groceries, electricity, internet. That sorta stuff. Fidgeting on the edge of the stone outcropping, his bare toes dig narrow lines in the sand. He hasn’t really had this discussion with Dad yet, but the mere concept of being wholly reliant on other people steers his mind uncomfortably close to the I’m a Burden Zone. He’d far prefer to feel like he has a stake in the game.

“I know you said you don’t mind supporting me,” he continues in a hesitant tone, twirling his finger through one of his curls, “but I still feel kinda bad—“

“Don’t. I’d rather you not have to stress yourself to the bone about money like I did when I was your age.”

The line shakes for a second. He’s pretty sure he hears the faint clink of a bowl meeting the counter from his dad’s side.

“Dad...?”

“Sorry, bud. Just putting ya’ on speaker. Figured I’d make myself some instant oatmeal,” he says, his voice sounding a bit further away from the microphone. “Goodness, though. Twenty years. That still boggles the mind.”

He gives a soft laugh. “You’re telling me. Could’ve sworn I was twelve just yesterday. And to be honest, it’s... it’s kinda weird sometimes, you know?”

“What is?”

“Being another year older. ‘Cause... well, uh...”

Steven grits his teeth, searching for the most delicate manner in which he can discuss these emotions. The feelings of his past are a really hard topic to dwell on sometimes, even in therapy, and even though he and his dad have long since had scattered discussions about what a poor mental state he was in then, he doesn’t wanna upset him too much.

“There were definitely days I assumed I wouldn’t have a future, or didn’t want one to begin with,” he continues, throat thick. “Back during all the conflict, before Homeworld reformed. And even after that, when I was... you know. And things are better, now, they’re definitely a lot better. But the idea of a ‘future’... even if I’ve got a job, a home, a girlfriend... it’s still weird to think about, I guess.“

There’s a brief silence on the line as this vulnerable admission sinks in.

“Yeah,” Dad replies eventually, clear sorrow in his voice despite how careful he thought he was in phrasing these matters. “I hear ya’.”

With a quick nervous laugh, he scratches at the nape of his neck, fingertips brushing against the thin, wispy strands of hair growing back there. “Geeze, sorry for bringing the mood down so quick. Didn’t even know I had all that on my mind until it spilled right out.”

“No, no! No need for apologies, I’m always here to listen. And in any case, I’m glad you’re in a better place now.”

Steven nods his head to himself in full agreement (momentarily forgetting that his dad isn’t actually here in the flesh to see this response). Sixteen and seventeen really, really weren’t good years for him. And even though he’s put lot of work into himself since then, he can’t help but constantly fear the possibility of relapse. His therapist told him a few sessions ago when he expressed this worry that... relapses into old thinking patterns can be common for people living with C-PSTD, and that it’s important for him to be cognizant of any unusual changes in his patterns and routines so he can quickly intervene with his box of healthy coping tactics, but... geeze. The dark, traumatic destinations his wandering thoughts end up stagnating in when the concept of relapse brushes his mind aren’t fun to acknowledge. It makes him yearn with deafening hunger for a simple switch he could flip, some magic cure-all for his brain that would stop him from having to deal with any of this awful shit in the first place— but of course, cruel universe this can be at times, those don’t exist.

“Speaking of that,” Dad speaks up again after clearing his throat, “how are those new meds treating you? You said last call your doctor was gonna change them, yes?”

“Nah, not change. There’s no need to change types,” he shrugs. “It’s just a dosage shift. And it’s fine, I think. I’ve been on ‘em for a few days, and there’s no problems so far. Brain's been treating me a little better.”

Nightmares aren’t quite as bad.

His energy isn’t totally zapped by noon.

The whirling, panicked trajectory of his thought patterns is a little easier to wrest control of.

All in all, nothing’s perfect, but he certainly feels a good deal more stable than before. Now, if only he can remember to consistently take his meds before he goes to bed like he’s supposed to instead of totally forgetting like he did last night and having to scarf it down when he sees that forsaken capsule in his pill box the next morning. Tsk, tsk.

“That’s real good to hear,” his dad responds to his news.

He flexes his knuckles against his lap, gaze reflexively drifting back towards the welcomed distraction of the tides. “Yeah.”

“Anyways, I, uh...”

“So, party logistics,” he cuts in with an overly cheery tone, changing the topic from his boring mental health crap entirely. “We should probably hash this out now. I know Connie’s planning on dropping around about noon. What’s your guys’ plan? She can probably send Lion to you after she gets here, if you want.”

“Yeah, that’d be best. Pearl said there weren’t any convenient warps nearby. Well, there’s one- but apparently it empties out into an active lava tube. And that’s not exactly Dad-friendly.”

“Aww, you mean you’re not filled with the intense desire to dip your hand into molten lava and shlorp it up like it’s soup?” Steven retorts, only barely holding back his laughter as he thinks of this absurd text thread he had going with Connie a few weeks back, wherein she sent him a video of some volcanic flows and told him, verbatim, that 'despite all logic and reason sometimes I can’t help but look at super viscous lava and think... forbidden s o u p, mmmm.’

“Not particularly, no,” his dad says, sounding thoroughly confused. “I’m- why are you laughing? Is this some sort of weird internet thing I’m not familiar with again?”

He wipes tears from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. “You, ah- you kinda had to be there, sorry. Anyways, yeah. I’ll have Connie send Lion. I’ll text you right before, how’s that?”

“Sounds great! Can’t wait to see ya’, bud. I’m gonna let you go, now, okay? I can talk your ears off later. Go enjoy your morning. Love you.”

“Love you too, Dad,” he says, grinning. “Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Once his dad hangs up he sets his phone beside him on the rock and takes a deep, steady breath, trying to capture the full nuance of each diverse scent in the air. He may just be imagining it, but he swears he’s able to pick out the faint scent of taffy intermingling with the ocean saltiness and the hint of cedar from the nearby state forest. In the end though, whether it’s real or not it’s a welcomed reminder of all the possibility the future holds for him.

He’s twenty now. It’s a brand new decade of life. He’s got a new job lined up, a stable and loving relationship, a supportive family, and plenty of courage in facing the shadows of his past. Sure, so maybe he’ll never know with certainty what will happen— maybe he’ll relapse a little, maybe he’ll still have some bad days sprinkled amongst the good ones— but as he watches the tides flow in to greet him, he smiles... and resolves to just take this year as a renewal of his vow to care for himself as best he can.

#su #su future #steven universe #greg universe #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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adrenaline-whump · 3 years

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Thanks for the tag @thatsgonnaleaveamark !

1. Why did you choose your url?

It’s a play on “adrenaline dump” - basically when you're startled by something scary/bad happening and your body gives you all the adrenaline at once.

2. Any side-blogs? If you have them, name them and why you have them.

Yep, I’ve got a few, though they’re not very active. [Edit: updated URLs] I’ve got @drensfavorites which I use to reblog/save long posts, there’s @drens-writing-reference for writing reference posts, @vertical-shift is an aesthetic blog, and then one called @exhaleandsettle where I save things to look at when stressed out.

3. How long have you been on Tumblr?

Started this blog on December 30, 2017, though I was lurking for a while before that.

4. Do you have a queue tag?

Just “q”.

5. Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I was SO excited to find the whump community! I did a little lurking but I knew pretty fast that I wanted to participate.

6. Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Joel Kinnaman’s character in Altered Carbon is pretty much my ideal whumpee. He’s strong and capable, but he’s up against equally tough opponents. He always seems to be simmering with resentment or anger, but that’s partly to cover up the emotional pain he’s struggling with. Also he looks great with bruises!

7. Why did you choose your header?

Tbh I just wanted a good whumpy picture, and I always like the aesthetic of a whumper tilting a whumpee’s chin up.

8. What’s your post with the most notes?

Technically this one about the fighter & the rescued kid, although I never know if I should count it since the addition is so good, it really increased the visibility & reach. Other than that one, this post about whumpee types is probably the one with the most notes.

9. How many mutuals do you have?

Hmm, I wish there was an easier way to figure that out. A fast scroll through the followers list says about 25.

10. How many followers do you have?

1360.

11. How many people do you follow?

89, and nearly all whump blogs. I really should follow more people, but since this is my main, I worry about people thinking “ew, why is a whump blog following me?” Social anxiety strikes again, lol.

12. Have you ever made a shitpost?

You know, I don’t think so.

13. How often do you use Tumblr each day?

It’s the first thing I open in the morning, haha. Right now, work is super busy so I’m just checking a couple of times during the day and in the evening after dinner.

14. Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

Nah, I prefer to avoid drama. More than once I’ve written out a whole response to something that annoyed me, then deleted it and moved on.

15. How do you feel about “you need to reblog this” posts?

Even if I agree with the sentiment being expressed, that type of post strikes me as manipulative and a little rude.

16. Do you like tag games?

Yes, but I have a spotty track record, lol. I promise, if you tag me in something and I don’t do it, the most likely scenario is that I went “Yay, I got tagged! I should do this thing!” and promptly got distracted and forgot about it.

17. Do you like ask games?

In theory, yes, although I’ve never reblogged one for myself.

18. Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I think all of my mutuals are whump blogs, and I don’t think any of us are really tumblr famous. We have our own happy little bubble over here.

19. Do you have a crush on a mutual?

If we’re defining crush as someone that makes you go all heart-eyes-and-blushing, nah, but platonic/affectionate feelings, sure. :)

20. Tags?

I’ve already seen others tag everyone I would tag, haha. If you are reading this and want to do it, I tag YOU.

#tag games #whump community #about me #long post

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imagine-loki · 4 years

Text

Loki's Daughter Trigger warnings - Child slavery, mental illness and past abuse.

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER/ONE SHOT: Chapter One: Saved

AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

AO3 LINK: Loki’s Daughter RATING: Mature for possible triggering content NOTES/WARNINGS:

Trigger warnings:

-Child slavery (this topic is being explored throughout the story)

Nota bene: I promise I’m not making Loki enslave any children, that’s not our guy

-Mental illness including mentions of schizophrenia, depression, and anxiety

-Mentions of past torture and abuse: physical, emotional, and mental

Notes:

I know these are strong triggers for some people and I fully respect you. There will also be lots of fluff and love and happiness in this story but as I say, these more difficult and triggering topics are being explored.

With the hype for the Loki series starting to build, I’m feeling inspired. So, I’m going to give it a go.

Also I’m not new to Tumblr by any means but I’m not super active in posting or reblogging even on my own account and I don’t know all the ins and outs of primary vs secondary blogs and blah, blah, blah… I mostly just lurk about in your likes and look at beautiful pictures of Tom/Loki on here… but I made a secondary blog for this fic where I’ll also be posting the chapters, in addition to here, and may start to open up some discussion if it gains any traction. So feel free to visit https://lokis-daughter-fic.tumblr.com/ and give it a like or follow or whatever. God, I feel old. I really need to just read up on this shit. There’s also an AO3 for the fic too if you prefer reading it on there.

Okay, I think that’s everything. Anyways, if you read through my rambling notes: thanks, otherwise, enjoy what I hope will be a very lengthy, multi-chapter fic! I have lots of adventures in store for Loki and my little OC, Kuna.

Chapter 1: Saved

Loki walked through the giant forest. These were some of the tallest trees he had ever seen, reaching hundreds of feet into the sky. The canopy seemed distant but its thick leaves blocked out most of the sunlight to the ground. Occasionally, he would hear the sound of some creature calling out in the branches high above him. The canopy dampened the sound all around, making the animal calls sound further off than they truly were.

He stopped, now and then, to admire the massive trunks of the reddish brown trees. Some of them would likely take a whole minute to walk around. Their roots, as thick as normal sized trees, dug deep beneath him. He wondered how deep they would have to go to hold up such large trees. He thought the planet’s crust must be made up of hundreds of thousands of miles of tree roots.

A light breeze made it’s way through the forest, shaking the leaves on the branches of the trees. Loki imagined you could cover an entire Asgardian skiff with one leaf. He imagined what would happen if one fell on him, and quickly continued walking. Indeed, the forest floor was littered with gigantic leaves and debris from the canopy world above. He thought this is what an ant must feel like, so small in a world far too big.

Wanting a better vantage point, he used the tesseract’s energy to transport himself to a branch high above. He materialized on the branch but quickly dropped to his knees. Up here, he could feel the tree gently swaying. But a gentle sway to behemoth tree was a dizzying ride to a tiny ant. He sat there a moment, trying to acclimate himself to the new altitude and his tree legs. Before long, he shook his head in disbelief at his dizziness and stood. Feeling slightly more stable, he walked out on the branch, testing his fate. He blinked lazily.

“Not so bad,” he mused. Afterall, even if he did fall, he could simply use the tesseract’s energy to teleport himself safely to the ground or wherever he wanted. In fact, the thought made him wonder what more he could do with this energy here.

He took off in a fast sprint down the branch at full speed. As the branch began to thin, he leapt with all his strength into the air. In a flash of blue, he disappeared, reappearing again mid-air but hundreds of feet in front of where he had been, landing gracefully on the branch of the next tree over. He laughed, looking back at the tree he had just leapt from. Amused by his maneuver, he took out the tesseract from his pocket and flipped the cube in his hand.

“Not bad at all,” he said. “I think I’ll use that.”

Suddenly, the tree shook violently. Loki lost his balance and fell. The tesseract took two light bounces on the branch before falling towards the ground far, far below.

“Ah!” Loki screamed and leapt of the branch after it in an instant.

The wind whipped through his hair and made his eyes water, the ground flying up at him. Through the tears, he nearly lost the little blue spec of the cube falling below him. He reached out and caught it, instantly teleporting himself at a far safer speed to the ground. He fell only a foot onto the forest floor and let out a tremendous sigh of relief. He held up the glowing cube in front of his face.

“We are not doing that again,” he panted.

Suddenly, a horrendous howl wrenched him up from his place on the ground. A massive beast roared at him from the trunk of the tree. It was hunched over, putting its weight onto its knuckles. Sharp claws as long as Loki’s leg, curled upwards from its paws. Its back was covered in a light brown fur cast with gray stripes while its belly lay bare, a dark shade of brown. The head of the beast was encased in a thick, brown armor, reminiscent of a horn but the shape of a battering ram that protruded from its skull.

Loki made a quick glance up at the tree and let out a sharp breath. There was a massive divot in the tree’s trunk. Splinters hung all about the outsides of the hollow dent. Dark sap had begun to ooze from the center of the wound.

“Oh,” Loki whispered, letting out an exasperated laugh at the creature. “So, you caused the treequake, then?”

The monster roared in response and lunged for him. Loki scrambled to his feet, tesseract in hand, dirt and debris flying up from the ground as he regained himself. He tore off, away from the beast as fast as he could. Still out of breath from the fall, his head felt like it was spinning. He could hear the creature pounding towards him. It was massive, there was no way he could outrun it.

He looked up quickly and saw he was fast approaching a massive tree root that stood nearly twenty feet above his head. He groaned and made a sharp turn, following the root’s path. The beast behind him slammed into the tree root. The noise sounded like an explosion, echoing through the forest. The beast quickly regained itself, shaking its head for a moment, before chargeing towards Loki again. Frantic as he ran, Loki looked for a way out. The light glinted off the cube still in his hand and if he wasn’t running for his life, he would have smacked himself.

“What am I doing?” he exclaimed.

In front of him, he spotted a large arch formed by another tree root dipping back into the ground. He lengthened his stride. He could practically feel the beast’s breath on his back. Using the tesseract’s energy, he teleported through the arch and safely on to the other side.

The beast lowered its head and slammed into the archway at full tilt. The ground shook under Loki’s feet as another thunderous explosion rang out around the forest. Only the head and shoulders of the beast had made it through the other side of the archway. It tried to stand up again but was firmly stuck between the root and the ground. Loki laughed, surprised but relieved that it had worked.

“I’m just going to leave you there,” he said. The creature’s nostrils flared and it let out another deafening roar. Loki winced at the sound. “Yes, you’re very loud,” he told it. “I’m sure that will help you out of there. Just keep trying,” he mocked it as he teleported a distance away.

Leaving the monster safely behind him, he looked down at the tesseract again. He liked the way it shimmered in his hand. He quickly made it disappear again into his pocket before anything else bad happened to him or it.

He looked up at the trees again and thought of what he had been trying before he was rudely interrupted by the beast. He summoned the tesseract’s energy and leapt far up onto the side of a tree. He caught himself with his dagger, digging it in deep into the bark. After steadying himself a moment, he located another tree about a hundred yards off. He focused on it and pushed off the tree he hung from, disappearing a moment before reappearing a few feet beside the other tree, midair. He dug his dagger in hard on the bark and slid a few feet down. Amused by this game, he continued jumping between the trees using the energy of the space stone.

As he played this fun game, he thought he heard a sound in the distance. He stopped, clinging onto the side of one of the trees. He found a good foothold and listened, trying to locate the direction of the sound. He truly hoped that thing from before could not track him.

A child’s scream rang out to Loki’s left. He sighed in relief at the sound. At least it wasn’t the monster. Slightly intrigued and growing bored and tired of his game, he teleported in the direction of the screams. Where before, the ground and large trunks of the trees had dampened the noise within the forest, now he could hear the child’s screaming echoing for what sounded like miles.

The ground beneath his feet gave way from dirt, moss, and decaying giant leaves, to compact clay and stone. He pushed aside a the fronds of a large bush and stepped out into a clearing. Or at least, what he thought was a clearing. Upon further examination, the sudden lack of trees was caused by a large, rocky ravine. He looked one way down the gorge and then the other. It seemed to stretch for miles in both directions. On the other side, the trees started up once more, rising high into the sky. Another scream rang out. It sounded like it was coming from inside the ravine at the far end to his left.

Loki followed the sound of the screams along the edge of the gorge. Once in a while, he would lean out over the edge to peer down to the bottom. Vines covered in thick moss had somehow found their way to good grips on the other side of the gorge. They crisscrossed up and down the ravine. The bottom was quite dark. It probably rarely saw any sunlight what with the canopy still covering a majority of the sky above. At some places, the ravine narrowed to a length Loki could easily jump across if he wanted. At others, the cliff faces pulled away from each other leaving close a hundred meters between them.

As he walked he began to feel a slight vibration in his own aura. He stopped in his tracks. There was another magical being nearby. A rather powerful magical being by the shimmering sensation he felt in his aura.

He had become adept in sensing the magic of others. Frigga had taught him to develop these senses until they were highly acute. He stood for a moment, focusing on this sensation. The vibration was quickly followed by a severe disturbance, like static electricity. He shook his head, alarmed by the feeling. He had never felt anything in his aura like this before.

He started off again, his interest piqued. He was getting closer to the screams, now. He was also approaching what he assumed was the end of the gorge from the wall of trees looming before him. He returned to the underbrush and crouched low. Two more voices sounded down the ravine. Loki could not make out what they were saying but he could tell there were at least two men and a child at the end of the ravine. He crept closer, silently making his way through the brush, when he spotted a rather peculiar scene.

Two men stood either side of a small crane-like mechanism hanging out over the edge of the ravine. A long chain swung down out of Loki’s view. A child screamed from below the ledge. They had built a rough camp with debris from the forest floor. A small cart held a few crates and barrels. A ramshackle shelter was propped up with a large bit of bark from one of the giant trees. An extinguished firepit with an old spit lay a few feet away.

One man braced himself on the crane and kicked the chain with his boot, making it swing. “Scream louder, girly,” he shouted down. “I don’t think they can hear you!”

In his hand, the man held aloft a long necked, primitive-looking gun. He and his companion laughed as the chain swayed back and forth and even louder screams rang up from below. Loki was about to stand when he heard a far more chilling sound. Somewhere at the bottom of the gorge, a guttural roar rose up and then another. Two creatures. Loki lowered himself back down. They weren’t the monster from before but they surely sounded monstrous.

“Ha!” the other man exclaimed. “Keep doing that, girl. They like it when you wriggle around like that.”

“Hear they come,” the first man said.

His friend picked up his gun which had been leaning up against the crane. They aimed over the side of the cliff. The girl was still screaming from the end of the chain. The two men took their time to find the right sight down to their prey.

Two loud bangs echoed down through the ravine along with the terrified shriek of the girl below. The two men looked down the gorge, following the echo that seemed to go on for miles. The whole forest seemed to have fallen silent. The pair looked back at each other and high fived.

“Oh, that was a good one!” the man said, appearing to rejoice in the disruption they’d caused to the balance.

They both looked down over the edge again.

“Did you get hit, girly?” one asked.

Silence but the girl must have made some sort of indication as the man quickly followed up with a grunt: “Good.”

The other man took hold of a large push crank on the crane and began to turn it, hoisting up the chain. A small girl, no more than five, appeared above the ledge, wrapped in tight chains. The man grabbed the chain and pulled it in. It still extended below and, from the tension, Loki could see there was still something heavy at the bottom. He unhooked the girl from the larger chain and she fell onto the ground in heap, her restraints clanging against each other. Her chest was heaving with effort. Her legs and feet kicked, treading ground and pushing her a bit further from the ledge. She came to rest at the base of the crane but went no further. Her body trembled and she cried quietly.

The man continued to crank the chain upwards. Loki could then see their haul. In a massive net made of metal, two large beasts lay tangled up with one another. The two men heaved against the crane, turning it to pull the net over the ledge. One kicked the crank and the net fell onto the ground, splaying open. They separated the two creatures; large cat-like animals with deadly looking fangs and claws.

Loki chose this moment to emerge from the undergrowth. “What an ingenious set up you’ve got here,” Loki said, startling the men from their work.

“What in the hells? Where’d you come from?” the one man asked, whipping around.

“They like live bait, do they?” Loki gestured towards the girl, ignoring the man’s question.

The men laughed, happy to oblige the stranger’s requests if it meant harassing the girl more.

“Little girl’s their favorite thing to eat!” the other said, kicking the scared child in the stomach. She coughed and slumped over againi, sobbing.

“You’ll have to excuse my ignorance - I’m not from around here – but what are these creatures?” Loki continued, pointing at the two beasts they’d killed.

“You ain’t never seen kapka before?” the first man exclaimed.

“Oh, they’re vicious beasts, aren’t they?” the other began. He turned towards the little girl, nudging her with the barrel of his weapon, teasing her. “They move like giant cats but got the scales of dragons! See them claws, they can rip you to shreds in seconds. But that’s not how they like to kill.”

"No?” Loki asked, sensing this was the response he wanted.

“Nah. They’re evil bastards, they are. Instead, they’ll tear you down and sink those big ol’ fangs into ya! That way, they inject their toxic poison–”

“Venom…” Loki corrected him.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, continue.”

The man’s eyes narrowed on the stranger but he went on, “They inject their - venom - into ya and that paralyzes your whole body. You’d think they’d kill ya then, right?”

“I assume the answer’s no?”

“Wrong! What, wait. No! Right! They don’t eat you right away! Instead they tear off bits and pieces of you. Not enough to bleed you out and kill you but enough to feel all that pain. ‘Cause on top of that para-lie-sis–”

“Paralysis…” Loki corrected him, again.

“What?”

“Nothing. Please, do go on.”

“On top of that - paralysis, that venom makes your bleeding stop quick too,” the man continued.

"Really? How interesting.”

“It’s the worst way to die in all the worlds. Perfect for this little shit right here, that’s for sure!” the other man said, giving the girl another sharp kick, that sent her onto her back.

“I’d treat your bait better if you want it to stay alive,” Loki said.

"What? Her? She was made for this, weren’t ya?” the man said, grabbing her chain and yanking on it. The little girl nodded frantically, willing to answer any question that would make him stop.

“Oh, so she’s your daughter, then?” Loki asked.

“Hells no! She’s a slave, you moron.”

“Is that right?”

“It’s plain easy to get them,” the other interjected.

"Hmm. And so, what is it that you do with these creatures? Certainly not eat them?” Loki continued.

"Hells no! You can’t eat them. They’d be all tough and chewy anyways, not to mention the - venom.”

“No instead, we sell them for their - venom. You make good darts from it,” the other continued.

“The blood’s valuable too. The best makers can turn it into powerful healing potions!”

“Extraordinary,” Loki mused.

"You can practically use the whole beast! Those scales can make good armors–”

“And them fangs make deadly daggers,” the first man said.

"Oh, I’m very interested. Please, go on.”

“The claws can be useful too. They’ll cut through just about anything but they can be crushed up into a powder also to cure all kinds of illments.”

“Ailments. Or illnesses. One or the other.” Loki corrected him once more.

“Well, you are a learned one, aren’t you,” the man said, now annoyed with the stranger’s quips. “Where you say you were from, again?”

"I didn’t. Oh, but look, I think more of your prey is arriving,” Loki said, pointing to the far end of the rocky ravine.

Three more scaly kapka were stalking down the ravine, drawn either by the scent of their fallen brethren or the now silenced screams of the girl.

"Ha! Time to get back to work, you!” the man shouted at the girl.

He grabbed her and quickly hooked her back on to the line. They both heaved the net over the edge. The metal rods seemed to snap together, straightening out to help the net fall flat onto the rocks below. The chain was quickly flying over the ledge. The girl gasped and hopped about on the spot.

“You know it’s easier if you jump,” one man said to her, amused. She shook her head, madly, not wanting to jump. Before the chain could rip her off the edge, the man gave her a hard kick, square in the chest. She screamed. Her fall was cut harshly short about a quarter of the way down the cliff face. Her head snapped painfully downwards at the sharp stop as the chain came taught.

It was wrapped tightly several times around her middle, trapping her arms to her sides. The strong hook attached to the chains at her back kept her face down towards the raging monsters. She screamed in terror.

Upon seeing the bait, the kapka charged down the ravine. Their claws made deep cuts in the dirt beneath their paws. They stopped abruptly, necks craned upwards to see their dangling prey. Guttural roars and growls rose up from the bottom of the cliff face. The girl cried out and kicked, swinging back and forth on her chain.

The movement clearly enticed the kapka even more as they began to leap up at her, swiping with their giant paws at her kicking legs. One leapt up the rock wall with powerful hind legs. It pushed off a small ledge and leapt, swinging it’s paw towards her. It came dangerously close to hitting her but fell just short, landing gracefully on its feet back at the bottom. The others were clawing at the wall, hungrily trying to find traction.

The girl’s arms were stuck tight to her sides from the chains but she still pulled and tugged at the restraints. Loki watched her movements, closely. He thought for a moment, he caught a quick flash of light from her hands as she struggled. She shrieked as if she had been caught by one of the beasts but none had touched her. He felt another strong disturbance in his aura, like electricity, nearly to the point of physical pain. Something strange was going on with this girl.

“Oh, you’re in luck, then, stranger, you’ll get to see the show,” they laughed.

"I can’t wait,” Loki said coolly, stepping forward. The hunters leaned over the edge to get a better line of sight at their prey. Loki took another step forward, firmly placing both hands on the backs of the men and shoved hard. The two men hurtled over the edge into the ravine, falling past the screaming girl, and into the awaiting jaws of the kapka.

The girl turned her head back up towards the ledge, straining to see what had happened and why her former masters were now being paralyzed for dinner down below. The stranger peered over the edge at her and slowly began hoisting her up by the chain. She no longer struggled nor screamed but her chest heaved at the thought of what he might do to her now.

Once she was back at the level of the ledge, Loki turned the crane-like mechanism around and lowered her onto the ground. She was breathing hard, soft whimpers escaping her lips. She had a thick, metal collar around her neck and shackles on her wrists and ankles. Judging from the thick bands of scars beneath the manacles, she had probably had them on for a very long time.

Loki turned back to look over the edge again. The kapka tore into the men with their massive fangs. Loki watched as the venom worked its way through them. Their screams slowly stopped as their bodies went limp but their eyes still twitched about in horror.

The first kapka struck, tearing an arm off one of the men and swallowing it whole. The next kapka ripped off a leg and in two big gulps, it was gone. The third tore away another leg and swung it about wildly, beating it on the ground before lazily turning onto its side and eating the leg whole.

“Well, that’s not at all what I was expecting.” Loki said, looking down at the horrified little girl. “I thought they’d at least torture them a little longer. What was all that about bits and pieces? He just tore off his whole leg!”

The girl whimpered at the stranger’s feet horrified at the scene below them. She turned her head away, not wanting to watch anymore.

Loki marveled at the sheer lack of blood the scene produced. Perhaps these morons knew a bit of what they were talking about after all. He watched for a moment longer before turning to the dead kapka behind him. He stooped, conjuring several jars and vials from his pocket in a smooth motion with his hands, and began extracting venom and blood from the creatures.

The girl watched him. Could he be a maker? What awful things was he going to do with that venom? She struggled, trying to free herself before the scary man could push her over the edge too.

Loki carefully filled each vial and jar before cutting away eight large fangs from the jaws of just one kapka. He was sure to take all the claws as well. He thought a few specimen of the scales would be useful too, for study, since the rest of the kapka had such alchemical properties. He already had the best armor any money could buy after all.

He revealed his sharpest knife to cut away at the tough skin. The glint of the blade sent the little girl into a frenzy.

“No! No! Please! Don’t hurt me, sir! Please!” she exclaimed.

“Calm down, it’s not for you. I’ll get to you in a minute.”

This was not at all calming for the girl, who only struggled more. Loki didn’t bother looking up. He could hear her chains clanking together as she desperately tried to free herself. He focused his attention on his work.

The scales were difficult to remove, indeed. Eventually, he was able to lift the edge of one gnarled, greenish-black scales and dig in at the slightly softer skin below. He carved out a large swath of the creature’s skin about as long as his arm and folded it neatly before making it disappear back into his pocket.

He studied the creature’s musculature beneath the skin he had removed. Intrigued and already covered in blood, he made another long cut down the beast’s belly, cutting through skin and muscle before he felt the grate of his knife against bone. He dug his hands into the beast’s chest cavity. He placed one foot firmly on one side of the rib cage and hooked his arm under the other side. He pushed upwards, expecting the bones to break easily but was met with tremendous resistance. Determined, he took a deeper breath and heaved his shoulder against the ribs of the animal.

Sickening cracks rang out in the forest that made the girl jump. Loki didn’t notice, he was too interested in what he was seeing. The internal structure of the beast was quite similar to that of a large cat but the bones were black as night. He extracted several rib bones from the beast as well as its heart and a few other organs, placing them again in conjured jars and boxes that vanished as quickly as they had appeared. Taking a look around the men’s small camp at the edge of the ravine, Loki located a large water skin. He poured some out into a bowl and crouched as he washed away the blood and bits of broken black bone and tissue from his hands. He looked up at the girl as he rubbed his hands together.

She opened her mouth to scream again, frightened senseless by the man covered in kapka gore. In an instant, the stranger appeared in front of her, clapping a hand over her mouth.

“If you want to stay alive, I wouldn’t be screaming and calling those things - or anything else around - to us,” he said in an even tone. “I’ll get to you in a minute. Just be patient.”

She nodded vigorously, tears flooding down her cheeks. He straightened up and walked back to the bowl of water he had poured. She watched him. She wanted that water so badly. Her throat was dry and scratchy, her lips chapped and cracked. The stranger looked up at her again, having finished cleaning off his arms and armor. She looked away sharply, finding a sprig of grass to look at instead.

She heard him stand up. Her breath came faster. His feet barely made a sound as they strode across the ground in her direction. She closed her eyes and tucked her chin to her chest. Her whole body trembled as his feet came to rest beside her. She braced herself for a kick but it never came.

Loki examined the chains. They were thick and old. Probably not made for the purpose of dangling a toddler over a cliff for evil beasties. They’d clearly been on her for a while too. They had left deep purple bruises in bands across her arms. He removed the large hook from the back of the chains. The sudden touch made the girl practically jump out of her skin. She began to weep again.

Loki rolled his eyes and continued examining the chains. He found a padlock resting on the girl’s shoulder blade. He looked up and around the camp again. Hopefully, the key wasn’t now inside the belly of a beast down below. He stood and began searching anyway. His eyes came to rest on a tough leather bag. He stood and grabbed it, turning over the flap and finding a small ring of keys.

“Ha, morons,” he muttered. “Just leaving the keys laying around.” He took the keys back over to the girl and tested each one in the lock.

“Ugh, you know, it’s always the last one you try,” he said out loud, inserting the last key into the lock. It clicked and the padlock opened. The girl flinched at the loud sound the lock made. Loki turned the lock over. It was old and rusty, grinding against itself. Unhooking the lock from the chains, he set it down beside him. The chains loosened around the girl’s morbidly thin frame. Loki was surprised that the weight of the chains had not crushed the tiny girl.

“There,” he said, finally freeing her. “I bet that feels a little better.”

She sniffled. She did not dare make eye contact, not even with her savior. She swallowed hard and nodded weakly. She did not dare to run either. This stranger would surely catch her and who knows what awful things he could do then.

He stood slowly and walked back towards the water skin. She slowly sat up, following him with her gaze, his back now turned to her. He was tall and lean with long black hair. A tattered green cape hung from his shoulders, falling just below his knees. He stooped to pick up the water skin and glanced over his shoulder at her. She quickly averted her eyes again, looking for anything else on the ground to stare at. He walked back over to her and crouched.

Loki could see how terrified the little girl was of him. Deep down he felt a pang of guilt for eliciting such a reaction from something so small but he quickly batted the sentiment away. He offered her the mouth of the water skin. She turned just a bit further away.

“Come on,” he said. “You clearly need it.”

She turned back towards him, her gaze rose to the water skin. Loki noticed her eyes were the same vibrant shade of green as the plants around them. Dark circles around her eyes, caused by exhaustion, only accentuated the color more. Her face was pale and streaked with dirt and tear trails. She sniffled again. Leaning forward towards the mouth of the water skin. Loki gently edged the skin closer for her. Her eyes flinched at the movement, her lips just centimeters from the skin. She turned her head away sharply as if expecting a blow.

Loki sighed pityingly. “Come on,” he urged her, moving the water skin a bit closer to her. “It’s alright. I’m not going to hurt you.”

She hesitated a moment before turning her head back again. Loki nodded, reassuringly. Slowly, she lifted her hand to brace the skin and put her lips around the opening. Loki gently tilted the skin upwards. As the water flowed into her mouth, she grabbed the skin with her other hand, overwhelmed by the first taste of water she had had in days. Loki let her finish it off before lowering it again.

She wiped her mouth and then licked the back of her hand, not wanting to waste a single drop. He let out a sigh. What a wretched creature. She dropped her hands in front of her, folding them in her lap and lowering her head.

“Do you have a family,” he asked.

She shook her head no, still staring at the ground.

“What happened to them?”

She took a shuddering breath. “They didn’t want me anymore.”

Loki shook his head, glancing away from her.

“Is this your home-world?” he asked.

She shook her head again.

“Where are you from? Do you know?”

She looked about on the ground for a moment, searching for a stone or a blade of grass that would give her the answer. She swallowed hard and shook her head again, dejected.

“I suppose even if you did, you wouldn’t want to go back,” he said. He nudged his foot at the chains absentmindedly, then remembered something.

“Why have you not used your magic to escape?” he asked.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chills crept up her body. Her chest began to heave. She looked up, only raising her eyes to the man’s armored chest, shaking her head frantically.

“I – I – I don’t have no magic, sir,” she choked.

He cocked his head to one side. “Really? Well, it certainly felt like you did.” He knew she was hiding something but she was far too scared to tell.

As he stood there, trying to figure out what to do with the child, her head suddenly snapped around, looking in the opposite direction. He turned round to see what she was looking at. She gasped and her hands went to her mouth, remembering what happened the last time she had tried to scream in front of the man.

At first, Loki could not figure out what the girl was hearing or seeing but the pounding footsteps that were growing ever-louder and ever-closer answered is questions.

“Oh no,” Loki said. His shoulders fell.

The monster that had knocked him out of the tree was crashing through the underbrush. He could just make out its stiff mane above the leaves of the brush. The girl scrambled to her feet and tried to run. She tripped over her self and the chains at her feet and crumpled into a ball.

“No, don’t do that!” Loki exclaimed, hauling her up by the arm. “We need to leave now!”

He ran into the trees behind them, practically dragging the girl along with him. The monster tore through the camp behind them. They could hear the sounds of wrenching metal and the breaking of wood as they ran away. The girl cried out at the noise.

“Ugh,” Loki groaned. “I don’t have time for this! I need a drink!”

He summoned the tesseract’s energy once again. A jump like what he was planning would take some serious concentration; concentration that a mad beast chasing them was disrupting. He ran, eyes half closed, hauling the girl alongside him.

“No! No!” she cried.

He could feel her pulling away from him. He looked up and saw that they were running straight for the trunk of a great tree. Groaning with the effort it took to focus the tesseract’s energy with his magic, he finally felt the vapors envelope around them. They disappeared moments before they would have collided into the tree, leaving the beast behind them careening into its base.

They both collapsed onto the ground on the other side of the portal. The girl covered her head with her hands, waiting to be trampled by the gigagrunt behind them. When she did not feel the pain of certain death, she sat up and looked around. They were in a wide meadow nowhere close to the dominating trees of the forest with no gigagrunt in sight. The sky above her was clear but two suns shined down on her face.

She blinked rapidly and shook her head but both suns were still up there. The man sat up and shook his head.

“That planet was insane!” he exclaimed. “Will not be going back there anytime soon.”

She stared at him. That was magic that he used. It made sense now. Even though his cape was torn up, his armor was accented with gold and silver all over. And he talked nice. Only rich people talked like that.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She looked around, startled by his question. Realizing that they were completely alone and that his question truly was directed at her, she nodded.

“Yes, sir,” she said, softly, looking down at her hands.

“Good,” he replied. He stood and brushed himself off. He walked past her. She followed him with her eyes. He put his hands on his hips and looked around, then up in the sky at the double suns above them.

“I have no idea where we are,” he admitted, dropping his head. He turned back towards her. “Sometimes that happens. To be fair, we were being chased by a vicious monster so the fact we ended up on solid ground and not somewhere in the vacuum of space is rather impressive.” He stopped in front of her. “And on top of that, it’s a planet we can both breathe on! I’d say that’s pretty good for teleporting on the run.”

“Y – Yes, sir?” she said. She was not entirely sure if he was speaking to her still. She suddenly felt sick to her stomach. She swallowed hard. There was little sustenance in her stomach to begin with, save for maybe what was left of the water she’d drank, but it very much wanted out of her mouth. Her head began to spin and she pitched forward.

“Oh, yes, sorry,” the man said, crouching down to catch her before she fell flat on her face. “That’s pretty normal after a big jump.”

She flinched at his touch. He gently turned her onto her back. She closed her eyes, trying to make the ground stop spinning. She blanched and felt a hot flush race over her face, traveling down her neck to her chest.

Loki watched her. Her chest still rose and fell. At least she wasn’t dead. He knew that could sometimes happen too. Not to him, of course. He knew what he was doing. But this girl did not. She was small and small things sometimes have a hard time fully materializing on the other side of portals. He examined her body. Despite the obvious lack of food and water and the cuts, bruises, and scars that covered her bare skin, she seemed to be all there. She opened her eyes again.

“Am I dying, sir?” she asked, meekly.

“You don’t appear to be,” Loki replied. This seemed to calm the girl for a moment before her eyes widened in fear.

“Is this one of the hells?” she asked.

Loki wondered what sort of religion had such beautiful hells but reassured her with a smirk, “I doubt it.”

Her face twisted with fear and she asked, “Are you a demon?”

Loki smiled and hesitated a moment before answering, “Some people probably think I am -including myself occasionally- but no, I am not.”

She sighed, relieved. She blinked a few times, still trying to make the two suns turn back into one. Seeing that her blinks had failed, she began to sit up slowly.

“Welcome back,” the man said, smiling wryly. “Better?”

She nodded and then looked down seemingly disappointed in herself. “Yes, sir,” she said.

“My name is Loki,” he told her. “What’s your name?”

For the first time, her eyes met his. She seemed confused by the question at first. Loki nodded, prompting her again. She quickly looked down at her hands before looking back up at him.

“My – My name is Kuna,” she said, holding his gaze for a moment before submissively adding, “Sir.”

She wondered if he would hit her for telling him. No master ever asked her name and certainly no rich person. All the slaves she had ever seen tell a master their name were beaten so senseless. She would have forgotten hers a long time ago from disuse, if she hadn’t carved it into her wrist with a rusty nail in the stockyard.

Loki nodded. “Kuna,” he said, testing the name aloud. She dropped her head, anticipating a smack at the very least but it didn’t come. “That’s a beautiful name,” he said.

Her eyes widened at the ground below her. This must be some trick. He was not possibly being… nice to her. He stood up again and looked around. “Well, it looks to me like those suns are setting,” he observed. “We should make a camp before it gets dark.”

This was definitely the strangest rich person Kuna had ever met.

#Loki #God of Mischief #Father #Others #Submitted fic #submission #Loki's Daughter #traveling-classicist #Trigger warning #child slavery #mental illness #abuse #chapter 1

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simon-pl600-501-743-923 · 4 years

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General RP style and preferences

Repost, don’t reblog. Bold what applies. Strikethrough what does not. Elaborate on any points you’d like with a *

Please be honest, we all want to find the people who work best with how we RP. ____

Types of RP / How I do threads

Plotting Preferences

| Wing it | Get a general idea ooc and then run with it & plot further if need be | Long expansive thought out story arcs* |

Type of threads I do / Prefer

Reply Speed for Threads & Consistency & Keeping threads

Romantic or sexual ships

| I don’t do these ships (specify reason if you would like) | I’m not against them happening but it is not the main point of my blog | All ships will have to be super slow burn & discussed a lot OOC, super chemistry based (ok, not all ships but I do like some sort of build up rather than instant romance unless it’s a pre-established relationship) | I love doing ships, HMU I probably already ship it just ask! | I ship really quickly* | I autoship or ship within a few interactions* | I mainly RP for the cute ship fluff or smut* |

Smut

| I do NOT do smut at all (specify reason if you’d like) | I’m very selective about it | I only do it on a separate (blog/discord/specify here) | I mainly only do asks relating to nsfw headcanons on Sundays* | I write it a medium amount* | I write it all the time and love to |

Active hours [PST]

Activity Schedule

| SUPER slow and sporadic, like once a month or so | Slow and sporadic week long gaps between activity | Bi-weeklyish activity | Weekly activity (specify if there’s a certain time you have school/work/etc. off that you are most active) | Daily activity | I’m online nearly all the time* |

Starters

| I don’t do starter calls | I want to do starter calls but often don’t have time | I do selective calls (if we’ve discussed something or we have an idea we wanna run with) | I don’t do calls, but always fee free to ask me for one! | I do starter calls rarely/regularly/often* |

AUs

| I don’t do AUs | My blog is an AU but outside of that I don’t do them | I sometimes do them but only with a lot of plotting | I have a couple of AUs already feel free to request them! | I have AUs coming out of my ears please interact with them! | I love making AUs HMU to plot if you think of one! | There are some AUs I won’t do (At least not without some convincing. I would list them but honestly it would be easier for me just to let you know if it’s a yes or no for me when you ask me about it directly.) |

Crossovers

| I don’t do crossovers (specify if you want) | I’m selective with crossovers (I can be convinced if I know and like the fandom crossing over, but it would have to be discussed first. My brain wants things to make sense and it has to be plausible in my head, as well as something I am already familiar with before I’ll even consider it.) | I love crossovers! |

Elaboration Points

* - I can do intensive plotting, but I prefer to remain flexible, so any plotting done, be it in depth or just quick overview, is never set in stone. My characters have minds of their own and sometimes they don’t stick to the plan. I find that the quality of my writing is better when I just go with the flow of things and don’t get too invested in making things work just perfectly. It’s also more fun for me when there is some spontaneity in role playing. I am a pantser (write things by the seat of my pants) at heart and that has always worked best for me and been where I thrive. That doesn’t mean I’m against plotting, just know that I consider plotting to be bouncing around potential ideas, not planning out every perfect detail.

* - One liners are harder for me because I tend to get wordy and like to elaborate. I still have fun with them sometimes if it’s just a quick little fun thing, but for more serious threads, I need more meat to the writing.

* - I have a thread tracker but sometimes things still get lost. It doesn’t happen often, but I can’t keep it from happening every now and then. I will never drop a thread without telling you, so if it’s been a hot minute since I’ve replied, just remind me (maybe send a link if I need it) and I will get to it.

* - I try to do at least some replies every day. It doesn’t always happen, but I do try.

* - Sometimes I can get to a reply pretty quickly if I’m on a roll, not always tho. This is luck of the draw.

* - Just because I see the chemistry right away doesn’t mean I like the characters to see it just as fast. I like some build up to make it realistic and find that falling in love instantly tends to just be puppy love or crushes, it’s not actual romance and it’s a bit childish in my opinion, to be perfectly honest. Give me at least a little bit of time for my muse(s) to get comfortable with yours.

* - That being said, sometimes the chemistry is just really strong and happens fast. If circumstances are right, I might just go for it head first if it happens naturally. This is entirely dependent on how our muses get along tho.

* - I love cute ship fluff and smutt and will definitely RP a lot of it, but that’s not the whole point and it’s not my only focus. I also really love other sorts of relationship dynamics, including friends, family, and even enemies.

* - Sinday asks are open to anyone, but writing out actual smut in threads is something I have to be comfortable with both my writing partner and the ship. It’s difficult for me to just throw my muse(s) into porn without plot. I like a pre-established relationship first and some context.

* - Smut is actually something I am very new to writing. I’ve been told I’m fairly decent at it, but I’m still learning my style with writing sexually explicit content. I’ve been trying to write more of it lately just to help me with developing those skills, but again, it is not the main focus of my RP blogs. I’m not against it, but it is by no means a requirement.

* - Honestly, there is no schedule. I just write whenever I have the time and motivation for it. Often times I end up replying to threads when it’s super late at night or early in the morning before dawn, but really, who knows when I’ll be around.

* - A lot of the time I only lurk. I try to get on tumblr every day, but sometimes my activity is just liking things other people have posted. My mental health doesn’t always allow me to do more than that in a day, but I do try my best to post at least something every day, even if it’s small and useless.

* - Still getting the hang of open starters and don’t have time to make very many. But I’m always open for RP meme starters, both sending and receiving. And I am slowly working on getting more open starters written.

Tagged by: @detective-with-one-arm via the dash

Tagging: everyone

#dbh rp blog #simon dbh #ooc #( there are a lot of elaboration points sorry )

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roseskiesandbutterflies · 4 years

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Loverboy (Jimercury Oneshot)

Summary: Jim goes to Heaven to find the man that's been tormenting his mind for almost a week. (The description is really bad so please just read it it's better than it sounds.)

A/N: This was sponsored by Loverboy by Adam Lambert which I recommend listening to and also to my sheer lack of impulse control. I hope you're all well and that you have a good rest of your day. Get some sleep if you need it, drink some water if you can and treat yourself because you deserve it. This is not optional. Let me know what you thought because my muse likes feedback, leave a like or perhaps reblog if you feel like it and maybe check out my other semi-decent works?? OK, enjoy my darlings.

Warning(s): alcohol, swearing, implied sexual content (OK why did I write it like that since when am I that posh)

Word Count: 2.2k+

Inspiration: Effervescent by @immistermercury on AO3, Loverboy by Adam Lambert, Mercury And Me by Jim Hutton

Taglist: @bhmay @briarrose26 @bijoukitty

Ask to be on my taglist!

Jim had thought Heaven would be a bit more exciting on a Friday night, if he was being as brutally honest as usual. It wasn’t somewhere he frequented much, preferring the atmospheres of the smaller clubs further south of London. For someone who wasn’t typically one to approach people first, large clubs were somewhat intimidating. He wasn’t the type of guy to buy men drinks out of the blue, to put himself in others’ personal bubbles with a smile that could do him all sorts of favours later on in the night. No, Jim would much rather people-watch with his pint of lager that never left his line of vision, something you’d expect from a patron of a coffee shop, not of a gay nightclub. Jim had adopted the philosophy that if anyone noticed and fancied the look of him, then they would go to him first. Although it was that kind of attitude that left you with a certain sense of disappointment and loneliness while sitting in the back of a taxi at four in the morning, only to take you to an even more disappointing and lonely flat and an even more disappointing and lonely bed.

This time, Jim was hellbent on not feeling anything of the sort tonight, and while that was largely down to amount of alcohol he’d drunk merely one hour into his evening, it did give him a certain air of confidence that made him almost unrecognisable. They don’t call it ‘liquid luck’ for nothing, Jim supposed as he made his way to the bar.

Heaven had a particular vibe about it that Jim found near enough impossible to pin down. It was an unspoken rite of passage, for you sure as hell didn’t get men looking to experiment down there, men who were just on the wrong side of naivety, men who weren’t gay but just in case, you never know. Men like that would get eaten alive in Heaven; ones with all sorts of bad intentions tended to lurk around the larger clubs. It wasn’t sinister, per se, but it was a bit much if you weren’t quite too sure what you were doing.

Heaven was almost always full to the brim with people, but despite that it was weirdly intimate, providing you found the right person. Jim had yet to do so but he had to give himself credit, he’d only been there for a couple of minutes. He ordered his drink, trying his best to not let the shock show on his face when he found out just how expensive drinks were at Heaven, and surveyed the scene before him. It wasn’t overly exciting, everyone in his line of vision seemed to already have someone, or in some cases multiple someones. For now, he decided to let himself be absorbed into the unique atmosphere, the deafening yet grounding music that vibrated through his very core, the fluorescent lights that illuminated what needed to be highlighted and created shadows over what needed to be hidden.

Jim couldn’t help but let his eyes drift over the sea of men surrounding him. He supposed he should have felt trapped or perhaps claustrophobic in his little corner, everywhere he looked he could see people who had yet to clock his presence. But it was just that, the fact that no one had even bothered to clock that he was there, that no one had even thrown him a glance, that made him feel somewhat isolated, something he never felt in his regular clubs. He was fighting every instinct in himself to finish his drink and go, to just forget that this evening had started in such a way, because he forced himself to remember why he was there in the first place.

That man. That one man who had somehow managed to stumble into his café on a bleak Sunday morning, still drunk from the night before and clearly not having slept yet. Why else do people go to artisan cafés at six in the morning, ask for the most lucrative drink Jim had ever heard of and then for the barista’s number because he looked simply ravishing, darling. As you can probably imagine, early morning shifts weren’t exactly busy, especially not on a Sunday of all days, and the man was just so eager to talk and inadvertently reveal half of his life story, Jim couldn’t find it in himself to let the rather interesting conversation die. He’d even offered to make him a cure for the inevitable hangover he was going to get after he eventually went to sleep. They’d talked about everything and nothing for a good two hours, until the lethargic customers looking for their pre-work coffees trickled in and heavily mumbled their never-changing orders. It was at that point when Jim had chased the man out with a tea towel and a message of get some damn sleep, for God’s sake, and once he was back behind the counter the stranger poked his head round the door to say the name’s Freddie, by the way, Freddie Mercury, before leaving for good with the sound of the bell above the door being the only thing left of his presence. Well, that, the innumerable empty cups he’d left on his table by the window and the smile etched onto Jim’s face that stayed there for the rest of the day.

At one point, Freddie had let slip that he’d been drinking with some friends at Heaven for most of the night, and that it was somewhere he went most evenings. So, Jim had taken a risk and gone on that Friday night, hoping to see his mystery man again.

He scanned over the club again and started to lose hope, even if Freddie was there, it was so dark he might struggle to see him. And even if he did, what would he do? Would Freddie even want to see him? Did he even remember him? He was rather drunk at the time, oh God what if he saw him and he didn’t even recognise his face-

“Jim!”

He snapped his head to the right so fast; he almost pulled a muscle in his neck. There he was, positively glowing under the lights that would have washed anyone else out, clad in the tightest leather, under the arm of another man. Jim’s stomach dropped about ten feet, but he refused to let that spoil his evening. Besides, he didn’t think he was capable of raining on Freddie’s oh-so-sunny parade. He forced a smile onto his face, “Freddie, hi!”

Freddie tugged on the arm of his companion like an incessant child, “Paul, this is the guy I told you about! He owns the café down the road!” His voice was so full of excitement, Jim could tell he was a little bit tipsy already, but the joy was genuine.

“I don’t own it, I just work there,” he justified, squirming a bit under intensive stare of Freddie’s friend. He knew that look, the one of suspicion, the one of I don’t know who you are, but I can’t trust you yet. Jim couldn’t find it in himself to blame him for that. He may have been trying to find reasons to hate Paul, but he just put it down to the jealousy that he knew he should be trying to rein in.

Freddie was oblivious to this, or at least was pretending to be for the sake of keeping the peace, “Oh shush, darling, you seemed pretty in charge when I was there.”

“That was only because I was the only one working at the time,” he said, feeling his smile become a bit more real and suddenly remembering why he was there in the first place. He was chasing this feeling of pure elation, this feeling of finally living that he hadn’t yet felt in the two months he’d been living in London.

“Enough of this boring stuff,” Freddie ducked out of Paul’s grasp and grabbed Jim’s free hand, “I want to dance,” his eyes sparkled, and Jim was sure it wasn’t from the lights overhead. Freddie quickly turned to Paul and said, “A glass of rosé for me, darling,” before tapping his arm and leading Jim through the crowd, leaving Paul with his lips parted in disbelief and in a state strongly reminiscent of a dead fish.

Further into the club, they had found a small space to dance. Freddie had his arms looped loosely around Jim’s neck and Jim had his hands tentatively on Freddie’s waist and their foreheads were practically touching because there wasn’t much space to do anything else. He couldn’t help but wonder if Freddie had chosen such a space on purpose, and he had no idea if he was just being hopeful or if he was actually onto something. He wasn’t all too sure where Freddie was going with this. He’d assumed that him and Paul were a thing, but they hadn’t actually done anything to suggest such a thing. He didn’t want to be seen as the guy who wrecks a relationship because he’s too selfish to think about the consequences of his actions. He knew he shouldn’t care about a man he’d met less than a week ago but when you’re practically alone in a city like London, you can’t help but cling to the first person who gives you even the slightest bit of attention.

This kind of attention was different, though. Jim wasn’t blind to the way Freddie looked at him, he knew exactly what that look meant and it sent shivers down his spine every time they locked eyes. Freddie leaned in closer, if that was even possible, and whispered in his ear, “You’re thinking too much, darling. You need to let yourself go.” Freddie pulled back and looked at Jim through his eyelashes, who in turn got goose bumps just from his tone of voice alone. It was honey, smooth and sweet, slipping into his mind and giving him a feeling that he didn’t think any drink or drug could top. He could feel himself slipping into a certain state of mind that felt softer than silk and tasted sweeter than sugar. He could lose himself in just the image of Freddie dancing like that, of Freddie holding him like that, and he was so damn grateful that he could have this all to himself, even if was only for one night.

Jim tried to come back to his senses, even though he wanted nothing more than to surrender them all to the man before him, “What do you want from me, Freddie? You already came here with someone.”

Freddie chuckled lightly, letting his eyes drift away before coming back to the bubble he’d created with Jim and had no intention of popping just yet, “Paul? No, he’s dull, darling. You on the other hand,” he paused for effect, looking Jim up and down before coming back to his ear, “You’re positively edible.”

Jim embraced the closeness for a second, not allowing himself to indulge in it for a moment longer or he would have been gone with no return, “I’m serious. I don’t want to be a game to you, I want to be more than that.”

Freddie breathed deeply, taking in Jim’s aura, “Paul thinks it’s more serious than it is, I don’t really care about him so neither should you. But this? I could get used to this, if you’ll let me,” he looked up at him again, the essence of faux innocence. Jim knew what he was asking, he could read between the lines, and gave him his answer by closing the gap between them.

The kiss was soft, it was slow, they were savouring every second for what it was worth. They had nowhere else to be, and if they did, they didn’t let it cross their minds for neither of them had ever experienced anything like this and they weren’t sure if they ever would again. It wasn’t perfect by any means, you can’t expect too much from a kiss in the middle of a nightclub, but it was so addictive and so different and so new and so exciting and just so human. It was that feeling that you never knew you wanted but once you tasted it for the first time, you just craved more and more and more.

When Jim finally pulled away, just wanting to see in Freddie’s eyes if he wanted it as much as he did, he found himself gasping slightly from the intensity of the look. It wasn’t like the one he’d gotten from Paul earlier, it was one so full of desire and passion, it was everything he’d been hoping for and more. He couldn’t stop himself from stealing another kiss, just a short one that promised so much more, before doing as Freddie had said only moments ago; he lost himself in the deafening music and the blinding lights and Freddie’s eyes.

And when he woke up the next morning with a splitting headache and Freddie in his arms, he was so glad that Freddie had stumbled into his life at six o’clock on a Sunday morning.

#jim hutton #Freddie mercury #jimercury #queen #queen fanfiction #jim hutton fanfiction #Freddie mercury fanfiction #queen imagine

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lokis-daughter-fic · 4 years

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Loki’s Daughter Chapter 1: Saved

Originally written for imagine-loki, link to imagine below.

Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.

In his efforts to learn more about the tesseract and keep it away from prying hands, Loki keeps in constant movement; never staying in one place for too long. So, they travel to new worlds far beyond the Nine Realms. The young girl is in awe at the beauty of the universe and thrives with Loki. Through a series of events, the two grow closer and Loki begins to feel what he would assume is affection for the little girl.

TITLE: Loki’s Daughter CHAPTER/ONE SHOT:

Chapter One: Saved AUTHOR: traveling-classicist ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Avengers: Endgame AU Loki that gets away with tesseract has been using it to explore the universe. During his adventures, he comes across a little girl with developing but oppressed magical abilities. Intrigued (and subconsciously lonely) Loki keeps her around.