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eldritch-spouse · 2 years

Note

I don't think I've seen something like this for Morell but if there is then feel free to ignore, but I have a fleeting thought that sometimes drifts back about Morell with a cannibalistic piglet. Like maybe before they were taken to the Clergy they were a killer/cannibal so when Morell feeds them a human they eat with delight or simply refuse to eat anything else but human.

OH! This is far fetched, but what if the human was like the one where they could regenerate organs/limbs?I can see piglet having him cut off a piece, cook it for the two of them (the mushroom hard and piglet probably getting off on it)and both of them happily consuming, having some fun after

[While I'll gladly indulge the idea of a cannibal Piglet, I've already written for pervy reader that can regenerate limbs here. Fem reader. Went just a tiny bit ham with this one. :'>]

TW: Cannibalism, romanticized cannibalism, in-depth descriptions of gore, I need Jesus what else is news?

You never thought you'd be the one getting kidnapped.

So used were you to being the lion amongst limping gazelles, that you made a critical mistake- Getting cocky. Turning your back to bigger fiends, believing yourself to be an apex.

The reality of your fragile nature comes crashing down when you find yourself dumped inside a den of real lions for the first time. The Clergy's Eye. Sickfuck central, in other words. Your deeds, compared to those of the monsters working here, are but crumbs. You're an angel in comparison, practically just as insignificantly innocuous as the average Joes that got lumped in with you upon arrival. They do not discriminate here, innocent and guilty are equal.

It took very little for someone as observant as you to understand what role exactly humans played in this cesspit. And that is the role of prey. Commodities. Products with price tags. And in your case, meat.

Hah.

The levels of irony are so far beyond comical that you could die laughing if you really thought deeply about it. The cannibal, coincidentally sorted to the human-eating chef... It can't have been mere chance, can it? They must have known exactly what you were before you got captured. But then... That can't be the case. Because Morell, as you've come to know the large shroom, didn't believe you when you told him you were fine with eating humans. You're more than fine with it, actually, your track record shows it crystal clear.

And yet, all he does is coo at you. Saying that his pretty piglet can't hurt a fly, that you're much too scrawny to put a dent in anyone, that you'd sooner hurt yourself than eat a man. The fact that you turn your nose up at any meat that doesn't taste like human doesn't get him to believe you. Fucking Hell, the fact that you're able to identify the flavor of human in the first place should be enough of a tell to let him know you were up to shady shit previously! What, does he think other people caught your victims for you? That you don't know what you're eating?!

All of this is really quite puzzling. You have no idea why Morell even took a liking to you anyway. For all intents and purposes, you are food, you should be hanging in the freezer, skinless like the rest of them- Or dangling upside down in his kitchen while he bleeds you out. He caught you, the fuck is he doing playing with his meal for so long now? Maybe he just likes the fact that you haven't had a little panic attack once ever since getting here. That you're mildly cooperative, never even tried to run. As if running were a good idea, either Morell cuts your legs off like he did to some chaps the other day, or another sicko catches you and does possibly worse.

No, it was most likely the hunger. This place smells good, for lack of better wording. Your favorite meals are always cooking, because the demand for them here is ridiculous. It always smells so so good- You think he caught you salivating once or twice. That might not have helped.

You're sure Morell could tell you were different from day one, he's probably just suspicious. Hell, you would be too, in his shoes. That's why you're tied to a restaurant table's chair, outside the kitchen. You challenged him when the chef "called your bluff", and now he's going to put you to the test, initially treating this as if it were a punishment- When really, it's become more of a mildly inconvenient dinner date. It could even be romantic, if the chef didn't insist on keeping you shackled to the warehouse all day, cold and sore and bored to death.

God, you're so hungry. He's taking his sweet time, isn't he? Maybe this is all a joke. He's not cooking anything at all, you're being played.

With a familiar, quiet creak, the kitchen doors part. And while you expected to see the large blue monster himself walk out, you're instead faced with none other than the head... Thing, that works inside his kitchen. These odd little dark creatures that do his bidding. Minion beings. This is the one in charge, the pink freckled one... What was his name again? Tomato? Turnip? Yeah. How come he always looks so oddly oblivious to the obscenities around him? Regardless, he carries a set of napkins and a vintage-looking bottle.

Once he comes over to organize the cloths, you make small talk, because there's nothing more entertaining to occupy yourself with. " Hey little man, what's on the menu? "

Turnip blinks, scrunches his face in deep thought, then snaps his fingers. " Blonde! " He simply says, looking much too proud.

" Uhuh. " You let him pour what you assume must be wine on both your glass and the chef's.

You know better than to try to ask the pink-eyed thing for help. It's unquestionably loyal to Morell, as are the others. And even if you think you could probably weasel out of these ropes with enough effort, or break the chair, the gates to the elevators have been closed. It's not worth acting out at all here, so you merely watch the creature in a chef hat trot back to the kitchen, passing the time by staring at the walls.

Such interesting walls they are. Truly, the soft tones of purple upon brick are superb. What type of brick is that? Who painted this place? The lighting is always so moody. Is that a bug on the wall? A spider? Huh. There it goes...

This time, you don't get the courtesy of a gentle warning as the kitchen doors slam open, giving you a mighty heart scare. There he is. The shroom. With perhaps the most jolly look ever on his face. He looks sweaty, like he's been standing in front of an oven for a while, or a fireplace. Is that a blush on his darkened face? In his hand lies a silver platter much too big,' something you're sure a human would have trouble carrying. Speaking of human, the size of that thing leaves little to the imagination. There's a person in that, most of one, at least.

Morell glances at you with a raw level of determination that scalds. Something fierce, to be reckoned with. He's marching to the table steadily, footsteps heavy. The monster only speaks to you when the platter is lowered to the center of the table, obscuring a great deal of it.

" Should'a had 'em put ya in a dress, piglet. " The cook comments. " Make this whole ordeal 'ere a lil' more romantic. " You're pretty sure those creatures aren't smart enough to even understand how a dress is operated. " Ya can't blame me for gettin' excited though, right? "

You can, actually. His excitement is what landed you here in the first place, so you figure that's pretty blame-worthy. Your lack of response doesn't faze the monster much, who quickly removes the shining silver cover off the platter. Dear God, it's mouth-watering.

What lies on the platter is very clearly a woman. Or, well, most of one- Her abdomen and upper thighs at least, what's left of her arms tied behind her back. She's roasted to absolute perfection, you wouldn't have it any other way. An assortment of veggies and fruits decorate the larger than life dish, some covering her privates, you're sure he's stuffed something in there. It wouldn't be Morell if he hadn't gone the whole nine yards, if he hasn't made sure all those cavities were made useful some way or another. Speaking of stuffing, her open belly is very clearly bloated. In all your years as an amateur devourer of men, you have never managed to achieve this level of elegance. Why, inside her grotesquely extended abdominal area, is nothing other than ludicrous amount of... Pasta? Yes, it looks like it. Pasta and vegetables, the taste must be delectable. Given how there's always so many humans being brought in, and how Morell does this day in and day out, it's unlikely he established a bond with this poor lady before she was sentenced to fire. This, in your eyes, dampens the experience a little. Though you're not about to complain, not when you're starving, and this equally insane man holds the cure for your perpetual hunger.

" Ain't seen somethin' quite like this 'fore, have ya, piggie? " Morell brags, glowing blue eyes fixed on yours.

You shake your head, allowing him to be cocky, because he deserves it frankly. The dish looks and smells delightful. He's a master of his craft and you will recognize that truth. The chef plucks a grape from the side of the platter, edging closer to you with it in hand. " Open. "

This close, you can most definitely tell he's not just sweating from the heat of roasting a person, or rushing through his work. See, through the chef's blood-soaked smock protrudes the real source of his perspiration, a raging libidinous thrill, which is probably making his pants feel real tight. You expected as much, he takes more enjoyment out of this than you ever will, perhaps now you can start to understand why he's so patronizing about your own fondness for literal manmeat.

Nonetheless, perhaps because you're bored, maybe because you want to push his buttons, you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, making sure to keep eye contact when Morell dips the small fruit on your tongue. You catch it, teasingly tracing the tips of thick digits before leaning back and enjoying the treat. The monster very clearly fumes at the display, though tries to keep his cool. What's left of it.

" How's it look so far, babycakes? Ya hungry? "

God, are you...

" It looks amazing. " You begin, catching the way Morell's grin turns near-manic, hands twitching by his sides as if he wants to grab at you. " You have to let me see you make the next one. I'm starving, sir. " A vein probably popped in the man's body upon hearing that.

The shroom makes a sound akin to a low rumble, pulling a steak knife out from his pocket. Right, the one thing missing from the table set ever since you were sat down. He motions to it, sparing you a stern look. " Don' go playin' games now, I'd have ta punish ya real bad if our date got interrupted by some silly lil' stunt. "

What even would the point? You've seen the braver ones try to stab him before. As squishy as some parts of him may look, penetrating that thick hide is easier said than done. He hasn't bled once from their attacks, ever since your stay here at least. The knife he holds, while decently sharp, would probably not be worth much damage, unless you could somehow reach those glowing eyes of his. Maybe the underside of his cap, it looks softer. If Morell catches you scrutinizing, which is ambiguous honestly, he makes no comment on it, setting the knife down and moving behind you to untie the ropes binding you to the chair.

He tenses then. Deliberately. Daring you to try something brainless, like making a dash for the blocked elevators. Even if you did, the chef would probably still get off on the wild goose chase. Knowing this, you remain still, getting rewarded by a pleased rumble and some gentle head patting. " Good girl... " He slurs, pushing your chair in while he moves to be in front of the platter.

Your plate is picked up, you merely observe while the shroom makes a fine selection of each portion, cutting professionally at the meat. Fuck, he nailed the inside and everything. You don't recognize the sauce he put on her, but it smells so good... The plate presented to you, quite tall for the record, makes the cook in you nearly tear up from seething jealousy- Wishing, no matter how depraved it may sound, that you could make a dish look half as appetizing as this monster effortlessly does. Lucky bastard!

Morell takes his wine glass in hand and swirls it, looking eagerly at your person. " Eat up, piglet. I wanna hear what'cha think. "

You roll your shoulders, picking up the cutlery. Part of you wonders if he put something in the food, since he's not eating himself. But then, you know Morell is hardly that type of monster, if he wanted something from you, he'd be crystal clear about it. Drugs are not in his modus operandi, as far as you can tell.

The first bite is heavenly.

You moan. And you mean it. It's indescribable, the monster that captured you made ambrosia. He made art. He made beauty- Is this what they call a foodgasm? You take another bite, and another, and one more, cutting delightedly at the marvelous food, eating as if you'd been starving.

Unbeknownst to your oblivious self, the mushroom is watching all of this avidly, relishing the reactions on your face and feeling a wave of pleasant heat spread over his entire frame. He feels light-headed almost, part of him not wanting to believe that you were being serious, that this wasn't just a needlessly elaborate bluff. Fuck, he loves you. You're perfect, look at yourself right now, drooling over his talent. Beautiful. You're a gift. He knew you were special.

" Good, ain't it? Best ya had, I bet. " He rumbles, wine glass set down.

You catch yourself, swallowing around a mouthful and fixing your curved posture, ashamed of your lack of self-control. Your mouth is sealed, should you really encourage his arrogance further?

" Naw naw, open them lips. "

No.

Morell tsks, reaching over in a single stride to take your chin in his grasp. Although you jump in your chair, you know better than to panic. He's like a beast, should you let him smell fear, he'll lunge. " Come on, I wanna hear it. " Shrunk pupils dare you to lie.

" It's... It's perfect. " A small wave of defeat blankets you. It's not that you feel bad about enjoying the taste of your fellow man, it's that you don't want to admit he's better than you at this anymore. That getting to experience this free of any authority's pursuit, free of guilt, free of shame, makes you want to stay with him.

" There we go, not so hard, was it? " He grins, softly stroking a thumb over your lips. " It makes me real happy ta hear that from ya, sweetiepie. "

Oh, you bet it does. Morell is looking at you like you're a steak, as usual, and unfortunately, you can never quite tell if that means he's horny or hungry.

" Aight, enjoy yer meal. I reckon ya deserve it for bein' honest with me after all. "

The chef puts some distance between you, reaching for his own knife and cutting pieces of the woman's roasted thigh for himself. You would like to "enjoy your meal", as he put it, but it's a little hard to eat normally when you're being stared down by the mushroom. You know he's getting off on watching you simply cut into the meat, his eyes lidding everytime there's contact between it and your lips, memorizing the movement of your throat as you swallow. Morell looks as if he's moments away from reaching for his own cock. Honestly, he's done grosser before, but you don't feel like eating with someone spanking it next to you.

So, to alleviate the tension in this floor, which albeit being huge feels suffocatingly small when it's just you and Morell in it, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

" Did you do anything to her...? "

It's something you have to ponder. There's no doubt left in you that the cook gets personal with many of his "ingredients", that he plays with his food- There's nothing like the glee in his complexion when he gets to fondle his latest pig. Maybe it's the power, the importance of being the last person someone talks to or sees before death claims them. You... You feel a little bit of that sick pleasure yourself, but you never had a habit of massacrating your kills. It's unclear why you even want to know what Morell does with his human victims. Maybe you really just spoke to distract him from you, maybe you want to hear a disgusting answer.

Because it would thrill you.

The chef makes a sound between a huff and a chuckle, picking at the torso on a platter with the same knife. The very tip of the stainless steel piercing into one of her breasts beneath the nipple. Morell casually takes a slice for himself and finally takes a seat sideways on the chair opposite to you.

" Define anythin'... " The grin widens.

He knows what you mean. You know he does. The monster probably just enjoys making you spell things out to get himself off.

" Uh- Y-You know... " Very impressive.

" Do I? "

Alright, fuck it. You attempt to eat as you speak, to appear casual.

" Did you... Touch her? I know sometimes you get... Uhm, close to them. And you f-.... Finger... " What the fuck is wrong with you? You'll kill a man, but you can't even ask this pervert if he fingers his victims?!

Morell barks out hearty laughter at your struggling, tears in the corners of his eyes. " Lawd-! " He wheezes. " Did I finger her? "

" ... Yeah. "

Another small burst of chuckling, then the monster takes a deep breath, and spares you a surprisingly adoring look. Intoxicated, more like. " Dawww, piglet, are ya worried yer not good enough fer me? I ain't been touchin' anyone since ya got 'ere. "

Amazing. He managed to twist you wanting to know if he molested his victim into a display of insecurity from your part. As if the two of you are a couple having a heart-to-heart about your feelings.

" Uhh... Okay. " It's a little flattering to know that he hasn't been interested in anyone else ever since you were brought in, in an obviously depraved way. It's also dangerous, really dangerous, you're aware of that.

" I'm faithful to ya, pumpkin. Ya don' have ta worry. "

You just nod, cheeks coloring a couple shades darker. Emboldened by those words, or perhaps because his earlier answer wasn't satisfactory, you poke harder. You know riling him up is far from the best idea, but you're not known for your ability to make sane, proper decisions to begin with.

" You could have... " Is uttered in between bites, making the large shroom nearly choke on his own mouthful. He beats at his chest once and gives you a questioning look, flush darkening. " I mean, what does it matter if you do, right? They all die anyway. " Oh God why are you talking?! Where are you even trying to go with this?

Morell chews through his next mouthful slowly, giving you a fixed, knowing look while he drums meaty fingers on the table. " Does that do it for ya, piglet? " You choke. " Ya wanna watch that stuff? "

Damage control mode activated. " N-No, I- "

" 'Cus I can do that. "

Oh fuck. " O-Okay... "

Silence reigns.

You're eating faster now, though this time it's in an effort to get the little dinner date over with as soon as possible. You've embarrassed yourself enough as is. Though, truth be told, you also want to go for seconds, the meal is so appetizing... Even if this is by far the most awkward and tense interaction of your entire life, Morell's food is so utterly fantastic that you'd go through it all again just to taste this masterpiece one more time. A couple more forlorn forkfuls and your plate is squeaky clean. Pity.

Should you get up? Will he punish you for rising without permission or assume you're going to run? Ever starving eyes glaze over the platter's contents wistfully.

" Cravin' more? " Morell looks at you oddly. There's something strained about his posture, and you realize why when one of his arms is no longer poised over the table's cloth. Creep. He's doing exactly what you expected him to earlier...

Your tentative nodding is rewarded by another pleased rumble. " C'mere then. "

With a great deal of hesitancy, eyes trained on his, you do as told, knowing better than to try to draw out the inevitable. There's an audible gulp at the sight that greets you the closer you get.

The chef has freed himself from his pants, a pallid, large blue cock resting atop heavy balls. It's... Well, massive. Because the monster himself is huge compared to most humans, it makes sense he'd pack generously. Although overall humanoid in form, you don't miss the oddly-shaped bumps on the underside of it, or the fact that it sports plenty of the same marks the rest of his skin does. Your stare bounces everywhere in anxiety, unwilling to fixate on the cook's twitching length. Something about his nonchalant attitude is making a fire rise in your loins, unfortunately.

" Shorts off. "

Again, there's some seconds of reluctance from your part as you glance at your tattered clothes. You're wet, you know you are- But even then, it would be a challenge to fit that thing. Will you really let this happen just because your brain's wires crossed funny and your captor is mildly sexy? Just because, sometimes, you feel at home here?

" Piglet. " He warns when you take too long.

The moment said cloth hit the floor, you catch him huffing, gaze pointedly on your slightly flushed cunt. Your underwear privileges were revoked a while ago. You try not to lose your nerves, but some part of you does want to sprint right now. " Good girl... " He purrs, curling a finger.

The contact doesn't last, because you're swiftly turned around and manhandled to fold over the table, tits and face mushed on it. " Keep 'em spread, piggy. " Morell orders, prodding one finger against your opening. You don't get to say a word before it's jammed in, meeting little resistance.

When you're between the large monster and the table, he stays still in lurid observation. Then, in a fraction of a second, grabs your ass, forcing your sweet pussy against his face. The yelp you let out turns into a shriek when a fat tongue gives it a teasing swipe. You feel his blunt teeth on your mons and wonder if the chef is going to bite your genitals off entirely, a very real rush of fear making your body turn cold.

He's done this before, the shroom has no trouble getting people to open up for him, motions mechanic but effective. Soon, there's a quiet shlick muffling both your rapid breaths as his hand only ever withdraws so he can lather it in more drool and shove more fingers inside your gushing hole. By the time there's three trying to push in, you're grabbing the cloth like a vise and trying to bite down gross moans every time he thrusts, the force of each motion bouncing you forward. He doesn't know gentle, does he?

" Ya look so damn cute like this. " He murmurs, you can only groan nonsensically in response.

There's a sudden feeling of emptiness.

In a flash of movement, you're grabbed by the waist and dragged backwards. It all happens so quickly. One second you're poised in the air, the next you barely feel his tip before you've been forcibly impaled on the biggest cock you've ever welcomed within yourself.

The noise you let out is more akin to a dying animal's howl to a human vocalization, completely overshadowing Morell's own guttural snarl of pleasure.

Oh God, are you bleeding? It burns, it burns hard... But fuck, you're so full. He's touching everything at once. You swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs, holy shit. Is he fully inside?! Glazed, tearing eyes glance down. There's a distinct imprint on your lower abdomen, but sure enough, the monster is fully sheathed inside you.

" Ffffuckin' Hell, piglet... " Morell slurs, breathing ragged while he throbs inside you, grabbing onto your legs to keep you from squirming while the two of you get used to the sensation. Your insides contract reflexively and the shroom shudders, gripping you tighter. " Ah sh- Don' squeeze like that yet, girl. " Easier said that done.

Instead of moving, Morell extends an arm to drag the platter closer to himself, taking a fat cut of the roasted person atop it and stabbing it onto the knife. Casually, it's brought up to your incredulous lips. " Go on, I know yer still hungry. "

God, this sickfuck... But you're not any better, because you do take a bite, in spite of how depraved this situation already is.

" That's it, enjoy yerself... " You'd enjoy it more if he wasn't rasping into your ear, it's a challenge trying to eat with him palming his own cock through your tummy and moaning quietly.

You nearly choke again when your clit gets toyed with out of nowhere, forcing you to keen around the mouthful of meat. The shroom cackles. It takes very little to make you cum. Stretched as you are, the chef only has to make a couple of half-hearted grinds up into your wriggling body and flick your button a couple of times before you're sobbing out what could have once been words.

They're not stars, but there's definitely something swimming in the corners of your vision when you arch and gush on Morell, cunt spasming viciously against hard flesh. He himself can't help but fuck into you with a lot more vigor, knife discarded back onto the table loudly as the male leans back and uses both hands to rapidly bounce your drooling, crying form on his cock. The noises are downright shameful.

It's a mind blowing orgasm, you can't lie. As much as you want to.

You're breathless, boneless against the cook. Surprisingly enough, he forces himself to slow down, exerting what you imagine must be a stupendous amount of self-control for an indulgent creature such as himself. A thankfully clean hand casually strokes through your hair, patting you softly in reward. " Good job, piggy. I almost lost maself there. "

Almost? It sure as fuck seemed like he went feral, judging by the force he fucked you with. Like a cock-sock, you weigh nothing to him. You dread knowing what a "lost" Morell must act like.

The shroom reaches past you to retrieve the kitchen knife, eating from it calmly while you roll your eyes. Seriously?

The last thing you expect is for him to grab your chin and jerk it up, sharing an unwanted kiss with you. The way your eyes bulge out when flesh is passed from his near lipless mouth into yours causes Morell to grin. You have no choice but to swallow, his tongue won't allow any fight. Ugh.

Fucking disgusting. He's horrid.

You spare the overgrown mushroom a look of unfiltered distaste, to which he just chuckles quietly and lovingly wipes the corners of your lips.

In moments, you're being lightly bounced again.

" Think ya can stomach some more? "

#Morell oc #tw cannibalism #tw gore #gore tw #cannibal tw #minors dni

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midgardian-witch · 1 year

Note

“i know this may be hard to believe but i’m on your side” with jack? id be really interested to see what you write with this prompt, it could even be paired with “You’ve got thirty seconds to explain to me what you’re doing here.” ?? idk but i’m starved for jack russel content i need more of your writing 🫶🫶

There really isn't as much Jack Russell content out here, anon. You're totally right on that. And it makes me really happy to hear you're enjoying my writing that much 💙

Stop Right There

Send me a quote and a character and I'll write a small reader drabble

tags: meet cute (kinda?) | Ted got locked up (again) | security guard!reader | gn!reader

ships: Jack Russell/Reader

AO3

Edit: added AO3 link

"I know this may be hard to believe but I am on your side." + "You've got thirty seconds to explain to me what you're doing here."

These parties usually were pretty boring. When people think about the 1% partying they usually imagine the wildest shit from orgies to black market auctions. You've acted as security for more than your fair share of eccentric parties and it never was anything remarkable. The most exciting thing to happen is some over-eager heir getting too drunk too quickly and rushing to the nearest bathroom to empty their stomach.

This time was different.

You were tasked to guard the highlight of the party, some strange creature the host had acquired recently. You hadn't seen it, just heard some of the noises from inside the room it was kept in.

You stood guard outside the room alone. Apparently the host thought their new pet wasn't as valuable as to require any more security. A low groan filters through the door, an inhuman, almost mournful sound, and you grit your teeth. This is your job. It sucks but you can't let sad animal noises distract you from your purpose here.

A sudden noise, like metal banging against metal, catches your attention. You turn towards the door. Something was happening inside.

You grab the handle and open the door, your curiosity getting the better of you. As you walk inside the sparsly decorated room you see a giant metal cage containing what you could describe as a huge bipedal creature covered in foliage with red glowing eyes. This must be the creature the host had been talking about.

In front of the cage stands a man.

You immediately raise your weapon at the stranger.

"You've got thirty seconds to explain to me what you're doing here."

The man in front of you startles and turns towards you. He's wearing a dark green suit, intricate patterns woven into the fabric. What catches your eye is his face - this man is beautiful. His stunning eyes regard you, not like you're a threat, which is what you're used to, but like an equal. He smiles awkwardly and clears his throat.

"Ah, hello. I am- well I was looking at this uh- specimen."

God, this man was a bad lier.

"Nobody is supposed to be here. How did you even get in here?", you ask, feeling a little bit offended that somebody managed to sneak past you. Maybe all those boring parties really have made you let your guard down more than you should.

The flutter of curtains catches your attention and you look over the wide open window. Did he…?

Before you can ask the man speaks up: "Listen, my name is Jack. And you seem like a nice person. I mean you haven't shot me yet so…"

He looks nervously towards the gun you have still pointed at him. Slowly you point your weapon downwards and Jack's shoulders slump with a sigh.

"I will explain myself. See, this fine gentleman-" He points to the creature trapped in the metal cage, "He's my friend. I am here to get him out. Again."

You blink owlishly at him, not sure about what you're hearing.

"That's your friend?"

"Yes. His name is Ted."

"Ted?"

You look over to the creature and it waves at you. Without really thinking about it you hesitantly wave back.

This is the weirdest night of your life.

"I won't ask you to help me but could you just…look the other way? We'll be out of your hair in no time."

The creature - Ted - looks at you and you'd never thought that red glowing eyes could look sad. This mournful, heart-breaking moan escapes him once again and without the door between you it's even harder to ignore how much it affects you.

You grit your teeth and shake your head. Fuck it. The host of this whole thing was an asshole anyways.

"I know this may be hard to believe but I am on your side.", you look at both Jack and Ted and put your weapon back in your holster.

With careful steps you walk closer to them, making sure not to startle any of them any more than you already had.

"How can I help?"

Jack's eyes widen in surprise and there is a spark there, this small glimmer of hope. Ted hums thoughtfully at you and you feel this deep sense of calm, like you already know you've made the right decision.

#jack russell x reader #jack russell/reader #jack russell #werewolf by night fanfic #werewolf by night #fic request #fran-writes

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blnk338 · 10 months

Text

c(u)n(t) 7

"I am doing this because you’ll be fucked up to high heaven" was almost "I am doing this because you'll be fucked to high heaven." Changed due to the worry that people would find it too vulgar. Why? I frankly have no idea, yet, here we are today.

Looking back, I think I most often use the over-the-top affectionate terms for PB constantly because that is his main purpose; a comfort. A lot of Reaper's description of the things in her home used to be riddled with a muddy, jaded feeling, but as she moved to the UK, she has begun to describe her life in more beautiful terms. This also applies to Peanut Butter. He himself is quite literally the color of the sun, his eyes are a bright playful yellow, and he's described to have a "permanent smile." I intentionally chose him to be orange because orange cats are usually the stupidest, sweetest little idiots (though if your cat is of any other color, there is not a muscle in my body that does not a) want to see them and b) know they are terribly sweet).

YOU LOOK LIKE USAGI!” While I'm not sure a ton of people caught it (it's come to my attention that apparently a lot of people haven't seen or heard of the show), Stella likes Sailor Moon.

Claire is important to Reaper because she gets to see someone who looks like her, or rather, dresses like she used to, only this time, this person is happy. I think this derives from my own internal joy when I see emo/goth/alt kids just being happy, because in the time that I was like that, I faced a lot of negativity for just dressing how I wanted to. I put a lot of effort into describing Claire as happy, excitable, and filled with life, but also still a normal anxious teenager because I want people to see alt characters in good lights. While more of those characters are seen in modern pieces of media (ex: Hobie Brown), I still think we need to see more women in those areas.

I changed it, but some may remember that I added double exclamation marks for Stella's remarks-- not a terribly large note, but I used to do it to emphasize how loud she was.

Claire would love Hobie, Stella would love Gwen.

"Feels like shit gets really loud all of a sudden.” Again, something else Reaper and Claire have in common: Sensory overloads.

I changed it all, but in Ghost's pov, I used to respond to Reaper in the third person. I ultimately changed this because it no longer fit with the current iterations of Ghost's POV.

I almost didn't make a comment on the true crime thing because I know people get death threat-y. Even though I don't like the community's fawning over people's deaths and serial killers, I know that there are people who approach the topics politely, with that being said, I don't love it.

“It’s hell.” I believe this is the first time I've ever made Simon actually vulnerable. Instead of shutting Reaper's words down, he fills them in for her; he properly expresses how much agony he's in.

“Was I—was it clear?” Again, another moment of vulnerability from Ghost. He's terrified to do this, he's nervous, he's uncomfortable, it's clear, but it's Reaper and he trusts her.

... Most of the stuff I know about guns is from PUBG...

"One hand rising up, he rubbed the back of his balaclava. Perhaps he could use a trim, too." I was actually going to have a scene where Reaper cuts Ghost's hair but I... forgot LMAO. But I guess that haircut had to happen eventually, huh?

“I don’t think you could handle my stack of documents, Sergeant.” Both an innuendo and a metaphor for Simon himself. It's a bit between the lines, but I attempted to hint at the idea that Simon doubts Reaper would ever be able to, let alone want, to deal with him and his shit.

“I bet it’s just page after page of the same shit I’ve gotta do, what’s the harm in taking a load off, big man?” And it's thrown right back into his face. As in, "no, I can take care of that sort of thing, because it's not a burden to me."

there's a clear sadness when König and Reaper talk to each other, knowing they should've killed each other. It's continued in their conversations as background noise or a prominent topic, the idea that they weren't supposed to be friends. If anything, there's an underlying fear that one day, they might be the reason the other is dead.

Its mentioned briefly, but König likes to draw :)

König actively changes around people. Around Reaper, he lets his walls down. Whether this is because they don't know each other or not, he decides that she is being kind or transparent enough to be trusted with his more awkward side. This also plays into the fact that he's a Colonel (which was information that I didn't have at the time of posting the chapter).

On top of this BB was deemed to be the "squad leader." Even though I'm not changing this, I like to think that König asked BB to hold up that role for the 141 so they would treat him like a regular soldier to see how they would react. In turn, they didn't treat him like shit, and he actively gained a new friend: Reaper.

Originally, there was a push to make König's group more of a boy's club, but that changed after they split up because I felt like it was too girlboss-y of Reaper.

Mind stroll coming to a stop, you turned to look up at Ghost, but his eyes were already on you. “Do you know where we’re going?” Simon was caught staring at Reaper watching the domesticity, yearning to do the same with her. Another in between the lines sort of thing, but hey, it's there.

By this point, Reaper had begun to call Ghost "Big Man" and this is big because Reaper's never shown this kind of affection outwardly to anyone else. She has her own internal nicknames (like Bug Boy), but she doesn't call anyone them to their face. But Reaper loves that Simon is big and this is a big flirting step for her.

"Look up for me." This was WAY more sexual than I realized when I wrote it, but honestly, this is a good way to point out that Simon was super obedient to Reaper. Again, when the hell is he like this with anyone else? WHEN ELSE DOES HE WHIMPER?

Glancing between the two for a second, your lieutenant staring a lot harder than he should have. I think this might've been the most deliberate example of Ghost being jealous of König. I almost included a scene where Ghost asked König to "step back" but I thought it was too Wattpad-esq and hated it LMAO

I typically have Reaper in boxers because they're a) comfy to wear b) good to exercise in and c) pretty GNC. I know some folks aren't comfy with wearing thongs or something (which, believe me, seems fucking awful. Why are writers putting their main female characters in lacy underwear and thongs when they're in the military? That sounds awful!), so I chose a bit more of a comfy example.

Reaper likes doing things in threes. stabbing three times, triple takes, etc.

Reaper knows how to kick down doors bc of her Marine dad.

A lot of Reaper's words are cut short. Ex: "medbay will be quick." This is because she's spent pretty much all of her life in the military.

#rwys notes #rwys cn

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silversiren1101 · 1 year

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6. and 15 for mino x regill for the blossoming romance wp? 👀💕

6. asking them about their family

"What is Brastlewark like?" She asked suddenly, her face turning hot at her impulsiveness. Well, hotter than the whiskey had made it. They were huddled together beneath the single blanket she'd hastily grabbed from her chambers before they'd snuck out here to just... talk. It was kind of silly, really.

Two Hellknights old enough beyond their station to not need to feel any reason to 'sneak out' from their healers, but here they were, sitting on the inner battlements under the clear night sky, sharing a drink and enjoying each other's company.

She had no idea why she'd asked about his hometown so suddenly. It'd been quiet for sometime before.

"...It's been a long time since I've been there. I can't speak for how it is now", Regill responded, though she didn't miss the muted tone of his words.

Her heart sank a bit. She shouldn't have asked. He didn't speak of his blood family or his life before... but that was probably why she'd asked. He knew everything about her now and yet, she felt as if she hardly knew anything about him at all. All she knew was that he was from Brastlewark, like most Chelaxian gnomes. It was probably the only thing he had in common with his kinfolk, funny enough.

"It was loud", he continued, and she perked up, surprised he didn't let it fade to nothing. "Loud and exhausting. 'Things' happened, all the time..." He then sighed, and the sound of it squeezed like a vice about her chest. "A good half of it... burned. At the very start of the war."

Oh. Her eyes opened wide, and she turned to look down at where he was pressed against her side. He continued staring forward, and the melancholy in his eyes was undeniable.

"I haven't seen it since, nor spoken with anyone, since I left and joined the Hellknights."

To put an end to the madness.

Minovae didn't say or ask anything further. She merely pulled him in slightly closer and offered him the last of the whiskey.

15. finding excuses to be alone with each other

The frown on her face was palpable even across the meagre courtyard they were situated in - a little sphere of sanctuary here in Iz provided by her Banner. Regill watched her with a frown of his own, sharper than his usual dour glower. He quickly pieced together it was because of the man she was with, currently discussing things with her with a pomp and self-inflated pride.

The Prelate of Kenabres. Hulrun Shappok.

He hadn't even met the Prelate in person until recently, but he'd heard the stories- of the tales of viciousness and zealotry that had made people compare him to a Hellknight. Everything he'd learned since and from his experience with the man said that the comparison was unworthy - and that every true Hellknight should be insulted by it. Shappok was incompetency personified, nothing more than a cautionary tale about how paranoia can corrupt the champions of even the most virtuous gods.

Minovae, of course, maintained a face of practiced professionalism as Shappok continued speaking with her, pointing out places about the camp, but her tail betrayed her true feelings on the matter. It writhed and swished about, lashing out at any of the countless locusts and insects that'd managed to slip into the bubble. She undoubtedly despised the being in front of her, but knowing of his rank and history - and of course his heroism just earlier protecting the Banner while they could go after the Queen - made taking any immediate action against him difficult for her.

No matter, it would be dealt with later. She had more important things to worry about before then, and desperately needed a reprieve before they took on exactly one such of those matters: Deskari himself, entrenched deep into the center of Iz.

Regill strode confidently across that courtyard, all infallible purpose. He came to their 'conversation', one-sided as it was, and interrupted the Prelate without care.

"Commander, we have an urgent situation with the defenses toward the north bulwark. If you would co-"

Shappok responded exactly as expected: with a self-importance that suggested he thought himself above such interruption. "What?! Are you questioning how I've organized the defenses here? Who are-"

"Silence." Regill snapped sharply. Only then did he bother to turn and look up into the old inquisitor's face, who was looking at him in turn with insult and disgust, the bleaching gnome Hellknight. "This does not concern you, Prelate."

He said the title as if it were a grave insult.

"It doesn't!? And who are you, Hellknight?" Shappok scoffed, derision clear in his own tone. "As if you-"

"That is Knight Lieutenant Derenge, Hulrun." Minovae's own scathing tone split between them. Her expression had changed from that contained stoniness to outright narrow-eyed anger. "You would do well to remember, he is my second."

'He outranks you, you testament of obsolesce and inadequacy.' Though she was much too nice so say so in such terms, much less think of them to begin with.

"I-" Shappok sputtered, clearly taken aback. His gaze flicked rapidly between the two of them, in clear disbelief and then clear insult that this Hellknight had outranked him in the Mendevian Crusade. The one he himself used to lead in a sense, though two attempts back.

"Anyway, if there is an urgent matter, Derenge, please by all means, lead the way", she nodded towards him before returning the last of what attention she could bear to Shappok once more. "We can continue this later. If we must. Find Irabeth if I am not available. She has the authority to act in my place."

Because she outranks you now, too.

"...Understood, Commander." The Prelate responded with a shortness just before that of a growl.

With a dutiful nod and gesture for her to follow, Regill turned briskly on his heel and strode away, in a direction that could reasonably be construed as toward the "northern bulwark" - which was sufficient, by the way. Something she only grew suspicious of as he led her into one of the quieter, empty rooms just on the edge of the safe bubble provided by the Banner. She looked around, confused and exhausted, before those violet eyes locked with his, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of concern at how weary she appeared.

"... Ah. I see now." Even tired as she was though, the smile that twisted those lips, cracked in places from the battle to get here, was nothing short of radiant. "You know you did actually have me wor--UFH!"

The wind knocked out of her as he grabbed her by the cloak, pulled her down and shoved her backward into the cracked stone wall. He pressed her into such a bruising kiss she couldn't help but moan into it, stopping him in surprise before he surged against her rougher. Even rough and cracked and chapped as her lips were - and certainly his were no better - they, she, was irresistible.

A short reprieve... though not as short as initially planned. Just enough to keep her reminded of what she was fighting for - of what she needed to live for.

#silversirenwrites #oc: minovae arangeir #regill derenge #regill derenge x minovae arangeir #thanks for the ask!#enjoy some fluff and some angst!#two for one!#pair: hellpair #pwotr pals #wrath of the righteous

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hyacinthsdiamonds · 2 years

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If you read the whole thing it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about anyone in a particular way which is weird why they took the quotes out of context. Like loads of drivers talk about it in the same way.

I think the interviewer/writer has included maxs name for click bait purposes and either way why are you shaming Sebastian and not the people asking another driver about personal relationships. Like max has done the same as well

I didn't shame Seb? I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt by hoping it was the journalist framing it in a way to bring Max into it for click bait? You clearly haven't seen me post before because I've heavily criticize and shamed the media and the fandom before because, let's face it, this fandom is far from all sunshine and rainbows and I've never liked the media or the culture built around it, but, as someone of the 21st century, I'm stuck with it. This time I leaned in towards the fandom. If I wasn't explicit enough, I apologize.

Seb didn't mention Max explicitly and that's why I'm hoping it was taken out of context and framed to stir shit and for click bait. It wouldn't be first and it wouldn't be the last time the media is guilty of it. Interestingly enough my last comment on that post was this; As a whole the media and the fandom need to have a hard look on their morals.

Regardless, it still isn't any driver's place to discuss the private lives of the coworkers. I don't believe it is anybody's place to do so, regardless who does it. Both in the media and irl. Seb was mentioned in my original post in the second paragraph because of the interview that was released. Had it been Max or any other driver, his name would've been used in Seb's place. Had it been implied that the quote was about another driver than Max, their name would be in the place of Max's. I used that interview as a jumping off point to criticize the fandom because like it or not, it's a cycle. The media click bait feeds us, we feed the media click bait. Do you think that journalist would've used Max for click bait if there wasn't an audience for it? Do you think photographers would be stalking Pierre every single time he ventures near Spa if there wasn't an audience for those photos? It's beyond exploitive and beyond disgusting but the fandom is just as exploitive as the media because we lap up those photos every year and we become more and more desensitized to it. One Pierre Gasly fangirl on Twitter even reposted the photo saying that she hoped the flowers were for her.

I apologize if I come off as overtly defensive but I've gone through this in real life, I've had people discussing my private life and basically trying to analyze me like "oh she's x,y, z because of what happened at point 65 of her life". It's fucking dehumanizing regardless of intention. When it comes to trauma and let's face it we all have some sort of trauma, and that's what their analyzing, the trauma you lived through, that you endured, that you survived, it's just further salt in the wound. Unless you're a therapist someone has gone to willingly to talk about it, it's not your business. No one knows my story better than me. No one knows Max's better than he does. And yet it's become so normalized to dissect his trauma and to exploit it for click bait or likes. Not just him, there's the drivers I mentioned in my previous post but it applies to them all. I tried to keep my og post short and sweet because I wanted to keep my emotions in check and my wording as clear and concise as possible, in doing so I probably didn't elaborate as much as I should've and was probably overemotional while writing this one.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #anon #ask #i'll probably delete this later #but somewhere here i think i have decent points so I'll just leave it as is without editing #so i apologize for any mistakes in regards to grammar #and for my tone

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good-beans · 1 year

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Ok, without any personal spoilers, Ochako and All Might for the character breakdown!

Lmao it turns out I had a lot to say on them so I put it under the cut :) Thank you for the ask!!

How I feel about this character: I love her so much!! I wish I posted more about her, but she has such a special place in my heart. Her very first scene gave me a wonderful first impression because she started out helping Midoriya, but she was still pretty awkward. Give me a character who's incredibly sweet and helpful but not the most charismatic and I'm in lol! Even though I knew they were setting up for love interest-ing, she was always her own person first -- yeah people talk shit about feminine characters needing to be “tough” to make them cool, but even before she showed her kickass side, she was beloved by being the sweet, pink, girly friend. Little by little I’ve seen my high school self in her, and so her moments of strength and optimism always hit a bit different. On a silly note, I'm also sappy that we look similar: I had like 6 family members see the art of her on my phone case and go "aw is that you?"

-All the people I ship romantically with this character: My favorite ship for her is definitely with Iida! It's already clear what good friends they are, they'd make a really sweet pair ;-; They'd compliment each other in many ways, which I'm always a sucker for. I am not immune to the art with her and Asui -- I can see that being such a cute relationship. And I'm honestly not against her ending up with Midoriya (which is likely what will happen lol)! I mean, he definitely has a Lot going on between him and several of the boys asdfgbh but I think the two of them are real good for each other.

-My non-romantic OTP for this character: Todoroki :D I've seen so much content of them as the best of friends and it never fails to hit me right in the heart.

-My unpopular opinion about this character: I'll be honest, I don't know the typical fandom takes on her, so idk where this would fall? I think her parallels with Toga are amazing and I genuinely hope they can be on good terms in the end. The parallel gets a weird vibe because their similarities started with "had a crush on a boy," but I believe they're similar in a lot more ways, and it would be really beautiful to see them connecting and growing because of those...

-One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I haven't seen the really new stuff so maybe they do bring it up, but I always wanted more about her reason for becoming a hero! I think her original reason – making money for her family – was extremely noble, but I wonder if she ever questions it as the situations get more dire (aka, "why am I doing something this dangerous if I'm doing all this for my family? I can't help them if I'm dead...) Or have her motivations changed after being with 1A this long? When exactly did she notice they changed?

---

-How I feel about this character: adfghh I fucking love this dude! I was so suspicious of him season one, but he's such a cool and unique character -- and just a funny guy 😂 He starts off larger than life (both in canon and to the audience) and little by little becomes such a real and normal man who’s trying his best in that world. He’s so aware of this character he’s playing, but not crushed by the burden because he’s the one that did it on purpose (unlike most hero stories where they’re forced into the savior role), and yet he is sorta crushed by it as time goes on! He loves the Symbol and can’t escape but doesn’t want to escape and that’s so cool.

-All the people I ship romantically with this character: I could never get into any of the ships with him, unfortunately. I don't know exactly what it is, but I can never see him dating, much less settling down with the way he is.

-My non-romantic OTP for this character: I really like him and Aizawa! They have a fun contrast of introvert/extrovert, public symbol/hates the spotlight, doing this for years/never taught a class before now – but they have so many similarities that bring them together in the end. They both live such crazy lives, it’s so nice to see them as reliable teacher friends ;-; I don't think you've gotten to it yet, but they have a beautiful moment talking about motivation to live that solidified their relationship for me.

-My unpopular opinion about this character: I don’t see him as Midoriya's dad 😅 I see so many things ranging from making him a dad figure to literally shipping him with Inko to make him part of the family. It's sweet, but I just feel like he fulfills a different relationship/role model to Midoriya than a parent. Midoriya is such a crazy fan, it’d be weird and unhelpful for his all-time inspiration in that way to become a father figure, idk

-One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I just would have liked to see more of young Toshinori, or him with his mentor more. I'm so curious about the quirkless child that thought up the very idea of becoming The Symbol!

#bnha #ochako uraraka #all might #thank you :D these are always so fun #i needed a reason to procrastinate on work today so it was fun to think about these ;-;#thank you @ging-ler for the phone case -- it was a significant amount of people who asked me about it and I got to show it off 😂#ask #rose posts

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heretherebedork · 2 years

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Ok this may be kind of long so please bear with me. It seems like VegasPete are better suited for the Mafia lifestyle than KinnPorsche. I like BLs but at times it seems too sweet...almost cavity inducing. That's why I like a bit of a darker show (TharnType was the first BL I was actually interested in watching if that gives any context) so although I can enjoy most series, I am usually not fully engaged. But when this series was announced I was hooked immediately. And from what I see so far it seems clear that KinnPorsche could exist outside the mafia which is why the date episode didn't seem strange or out of character. Porsche is trying to adapt but you can tell he is an outsider because of his humanity. Kinn is doing what is expected of him which is why I get his dad's concern of him being in love because deep down he is truly just a lovable sap. Yes Kinn can be cut throat but I think that's survival and maintaining the image especially after the lessons learned from his last relationship. But I don't believe this is who he truly is or wants to be. I view them like chocolate; has different sweetness levels, sometimes messy, great in all different recipes/environments and just overall enjoyable(Pt1.)

(Pt2.) VegasPete on the other had are my SourPatch babies. Vegas is sour to all and sweet to who he let's in whereas Pete is sweet to all but will show his sour side to the right person. I can't imagine Vegas in a regular life that doesn't involve violence and deception because that's just who he is. Pete I feel is a chameleon where he can naturally fit into any environment that's why his goofy sweet moments are as reasonable as his darker complex moments. (These characters assessments are purely based on spoilers as we haven't had a chance to fully see both sides of VegasPete yet). I feel Pete probably didn't have moral dilemmas about his job and the violence required like we have seen with Porsche. For him if someone had to die they just had to die rather than their being a purpose or an end goal which is why I think he will do well as Vegas' partner because with him there might not be a reason. All this was to say that I can imagine Kinn as head of the minor family where he isn't as deeply involved in the mafia as he currently is and is viewed as a hard but decent business man to the community with Porsche. VegasPete I could see as being the head running the underworld with whatever means necessary to keep others in line. Like having a public face to the company (KinnPorsche) and the illusive CEO (VegasPete).

Ah, so we have very different taste as TharnType was one BL that had me mostly pissed off because nothing had real consequences and all the drama felt manufactured specifically to play into scenarios that didn't work well for me. That is always interesting to know. And that's what makes this so interesting to me.

In any other BL? I'd be eating up these cute scenes. I normally love them. I normally adore them. But here? It doesn't feel right. It doesn't sit well for me. I just can't get past the two halves of the relationship they share to find the whole.

I get that they're going for that but my problem is that the way they show those sides isn't working for me. I get that it is for most people and I wish it was for me but the tonal shifts and changes are just making my head spin instead of drawing me more into their loving relationship.

A lot of people are talking about how this episode is needed to explain why they love each other but for me this episode already assumed that they loved each other and went from there. I don't know any more why they love each other or what they're doing together or why from this episode because I feel like we skipped a whole bunch of that because it was all tied into trauma and they can't handle that alongside the fluff.

But anyway.

Yeah, anon, I get what you're saying and what they're trying, it just doesn't work for me.

As for VegasPete... I just don't know. I feel like there's a lot of things going on with them that are gonna turn out different than we expect.

I mean, honestly, at this point I expect the same tonal issues with them so I'm no longer trusting anything I've been trying to analyze or predict because the tonal shifts means I can't.

I'll probably still try once I get another chance.

But... expectations set to confusing.

(no book spoilers)

#no tags here #spoiler #spoilers

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taylorrama · 6 months

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The Locked Tomb + mewithoutYou pt. 17/17

“God’s will” or “come what fortune gives”--- Or is this truly how you’d choose to live: Managing the narrative?

Song: New Wine, New Skins Album: [Untitled] LP

youtube

We've finally reach the end of this series–shoutout to the five of you who've read it! There might be more ways that mewithoutYou pairs with The Locked Tomb that I'll find as I reread, but for now, this is the last! Let's jump right in.

Musically, this song has a very quiet and steady buildup. There's no rush at all to get through these verses and the vocals are mixed to create a very distant sound. All fitting, I think, for TLT where all this shit has exploded and shattered (literally and metaphorically).

If God wills this time tomorrow, bound for Boise via plane (willful mispronunciation of my destination’s name) I’d like to write a sequel to “the State That I am in” [sic]

Any time God is mentioned in a mewithoutYou song, we can instantly apply it to Jod in TLT. The tone of this line on its own is that which you'll hear a lot of religious people say before traveling. In my experience of hearing it, there's an undertone that God might not will you to have safe travels or get to where you're trying to go.

So, I wonder, in that moment when John nuked Earth and became God, who was on a plane to Boise or anywhere else?

Another reading, of course, is replacing "Boise" with anywhere in the TLT universe–the front line of the war for Gideon in her escape plan at the beginning of the series, Canaan House for Gideon and Harrow a little later on.

Again, we have this mispronunciation thing. In the song, all this means is that Aaron says "Boise" incorrectly but on purpose. But since The Locked Tomb plays so much with obscuring character and place names, there's an additional layer. Most times, that obscuring ("willful mispronunciation") is meant to hide a painful but important truth.

This third line about writing a sequel to a song on the surface is a reference to mewithoutYou's tendency to write a song on one album and then two albums later have a part 2 or other clear sequel to it. Here, Aaron is acknowledging this outright and saying he wants to write a sequel to someone else's song. In other words, he's writing fanfic.

Even though the clear reference is to a song called "The State That I Am In," those words by themselves carry their own meaning. "State" can be the physical state/location, but also a state of mind. And it's this second reading that easily fits with TLT. We especially see Harrow in a very particular state of mind in book 2 and the sequel to that state of mind is Nona.

If God wills this time tomorrow in the early morning rain I’ll unpack the boots I borrowed and turn back the way I came I’d like to write a sequel to “the State I am in” And I’d like to call the song New Wine, New Skins

Sticking with Harrow, we have rain, and it's raining all the time in her lobotomized version of Canaan House. Then, we have the title of this sequel mentioned in the first verse: New Wine, New Skins. This is a biblical reference to Jesus' teaching that you can't pour new wine into old wine skins or else the skins might burst. Typically, this is understood to mean that Jesus' teachings can't fit into the old, outdated containers of religious interpretation.

In TLT, though, the wine skin image takes on a very literal meaning. Nona is "new wine" poured into Harrow's body (old skin). Most Lyctors have a similar relationship, where a new soul is inhabiting a pre-existing body. Then, there's Paul. Paul is something we haven't yet seen in the series–both the body and the soul appear to be new, a new wine in a new skin.

The music then slows, nearly halting, and we get this quiet refrain.

“God’s will” or “come what fortune gives”--- Or is this truly how you’d choose to live: Managing the narrative?

This part is what made me think to pair this song with TLT. It emphasizes common religious sayings we may hear or say to show our humility in not knowing or having control over our plans. Then, it questions the belief in these sayings–do we invoke "God's will" to avoid giving real responses to grief and suffering? Is the best way to live life believing and creating this narrative of a God who could will to kill you or take your home away? And then holding that those events would be holy or justified because God willed it?

All of these questions we can apply to TLT and Jod, especially the part about "managing the narrative." That's exactly what he's done, even in the John chapters of Nona the Ninth. Though this is the most obvious reading, John isn't the only character who manages a narrative. Harrow does, too, in a gruesome and self-destructive way. In fact, any instance in this series of altering memories or obscuring history is managing the narrative, and Jod isn't the only one who does it, though he's the head of it all.

After this refrain, the music hits hard.

Come, unfastening android limbs In the moonlight through translucent skin Now we’ve both been there and back again To the state that I’m no longer in With carbon fiber lips whereby Came thought reflex personified Now a scorpion in the sky, harmless as a butterfly

There aren't specific images in these lines I want to tie to TLT. Instead, it's a more general sci-fi vibe with the androids with translucent skin. Though, I'm pretty sure several necromancers are described as having translucent skin.

The narrator of the song now says he's no longer in the state mentioned at the beginning and that someone else took this journey with him. My first thought in relation to TLT is Harrow/Gideon and any other necro/cav pair that's been to the River and back.

If you fail first, some warm, bright day I’ll unperform at your unmarked grave And you can tell me what those eyes have seen But for now the Creek-don’t-rise routine With churning engine, fix my head Up north in the Gold Fork riverbed From the misuse of intelligence And all I wish I’d said pours out New wine, new skins

The first three lines here could easily be Harrow POV. Unperforming and an umarked grave suggests her refusal to accept Gideon's death, and with the following line talking about "what those eyes have seen," we have a tie-in with how the eyes change when a different soul controls a Lyctor's body.

"The Creek-don't-rise routine" is another invocation of a common religious turn of phrase in the same vein as the others we've seen throughout the song. There's a commitment to the way things are now (spiritually, physically) but with this undertone of disbelief. That vibe is present in TLT with the number of characters who ultimately go along with Jod despite any reservations they have.

The song ends with a repetition of the refrain from earlier, and now we've reached the end of these posts! As I said in prior posts, not all of my analyses are necessarily complete thoughts and they're based on only one read through of the series. Plus, it's Tumblr and sometimes I didn't feel like explaining everything in depth.

If you've read and enjoyed these, thanks. The mewithoutYou + TLT Venn diagram is odd, but fun to occupy. A great band and a great book series that you can really spend some time processing.

---

TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 1; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 2; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 3; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 4; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 5; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 6; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 7; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 8; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 9; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 10; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 11; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 12; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 13; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 14; TLT + mewithoutYou pt. 15

#tlt #tlt spoilers #the locked tomb #the locked tomb spoilers #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #mewithoutyou

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3l1j4hhh · 2 years

Text

Flower Crown for You

- Xiao x Reader -

Summary: Xiao discovers you in a field of flowers with a flower crown in your hair.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

"May I ask why you're staring at me?" You spoke suddenly. Your eyes followed the subtle trail of a fern green mist, leading your vision to the adeptus stood behind you. The glowing mist surrounded him as if it were an aura reflecting his emotions. He only scoffed at the question and the mist surrounding him dissipated into thin air.

"Those flowers and leaves in your hair," he muttered, "What is the purpose of it?" His eyes were fixated on the crown of flowers resting still on your head. A sense of genuine curiosity was hidden in the tone of his voice. He was not judging at all for what you wore on your body, just desiring that you would answer his question.

His question made a grin settle on your face and you patted the grass in front of you. The meaning of your small gesture made clear sense to him, settling in front of you as he sat down. Both of you were perched on a tiny patch of grass in the middle of a flower field. Cyrstalflies surrounded and illuminated the nighttime land. It was a peaceful evening, barely night or day. The crystalflies created a series of sparkling noises, though, it was quiet.

"They're known as flower crowns. Have you heard of it? Surely you've seen a slight quantity of Liyue citizens wearing it?" You questioned the adeptus. He only responded with a nod.

"Yes, I have. Yet, I wish to understand the purpose of wearing such a thing, predominately in your hair, out of all places." He explained as his polearm dusted away and rested his hands in his lap.

You could only chuckle at his cluelessness. "Hm.. I've never really thought of it before." You really have not. Why would people wear flower crowns, let alone who invented the concept of placing anything on or in your hair? "Perhaps it's a decoration of some sort? An accessory, if you will."

"I see. I must say though," he hesitated.

"Hm?"

"It looks.. adequate on you."

His gaze averted to his lap as he uttered his sentence. A smile cracked onto your face from his confession. You picked some flowers off the ground near you and piled them up alongside of pile of leaves. You glanced over to the adeptus - who was still staring shamefully at his lap - and smiled brightly at him.

"Say.. Would you like me to create one for you?"

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

I really hope that you guys enjoyed this one. I haven't been able to make any updates to my other works but I'll try. I won't probably post often, only when I have real motivation for it. But here, take this for the time being! Love you all.

-3L1J4Hhh <3

#xiao x reader #xiao x reader fluff #fluff #comfort #genshin impact #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact x reader #flower crowns

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erensrag · 3 years

Text

bimbo!reader x judgmental nerd eren

eren x y/n (wc: 3173)

warnings: nswf, slut shaming, slight dubious consent

i don’t think i did this correctly….

"no please, take your time. it's not like we've been here for hours." eren's sharp voice brings you out of your thoughts.

his piercing gaze is right there to meet yours when you finally stop staring at the wall. you chew on your pencil, quickly diverting your attention to the paper in front of you. you've done your best to avoid looking at him the majority of the time you've been here.

it's not your fault you can't look into his eyes for longer than a second. he's the one who's always observing you with that cold, calculating stare. you've been on the end of judgmental looks and not so quiet whispers for years now and have learned to not let them bother you—well you thought you mastered the art of simply ignoring those kinds of people. until eren.

you didn't even know he existed until a few weeks ago. the introduction for you two consisted of a simple bumping into each other in the crowded hallways of school, it ended with him bitterly muttering something about idiot cheerleaders as he stumbled away. not even sparing you a second glance. after that, you saw him often and he made his dislike for you evidently clear.

which makes no sense. how can someone not like you?

it's usually jealous girls giving you the stink eye and making up the ridiculous rumors. they're the ones who don't want to associate themselves with you. not nerdy nobodies who can't walk without stumbling over their own two feet. no, people like him usually worship the ground you walk on. or at least drool a little.

seriously you've tried everything to get rid of that menacing stare and frigid tone he always greets you with. it's like he's immune. "jesus y/n, how dumb are you?"

and they definitely don't talk to you like that. you know you're not the brightest, which is why your teacher got this jerk of a nerd to tutor you right before exam week but is that really an excuse for him to treat you like this? biting the inside of your cheek, you nudge a corner of your sweater until your left shoulder is exposed. leaning forward and batting your eyelashes which gets no response from him other than a blank stare. "i'm not dumb. i just don't get it." you pout. "can't you just tell me the answer? we've spent like thirty minutes on this question."

"thirty minutes cause you're an idiot." he mutters more to himself.

"i'm trying my best!"

"you should've learned this months ago. you would've if you didn't spend your time skipping class to hang out with your pig muscle boyfriend."

"he's not my boyfriend..." you go back to chewing on the pencil.

"so you just make out with any guy behind the bleachers?"

"you seem to know a lot about me." you look at him again, that stupid cold stare looking back at you through those glasses.

"who doesn't. you're y/n. the whole school knows of your...activities."

"those are just rumors." some of them are. most are true. you enjoy living life to the fullest. it's not your fault the people in your school saw a confident, attractive woman and instantly decided to put less than appealing labels on her. "and besides they're none of your business."

"whatever. just solve this, this is taking longer than our usual sessions and my mom will be home soon."

you groan, looking down at the textbooks and not understanding a single word. “please just tell me the answers.” you ask one last time, desperate.

“no.”

you huff, returning your attention to the book. “you’re going to age badly with all that scowling you do. just so you know.”

“shut up.”

"eren..." you say after five minutes which causes a frustrated sigh to leave his lips. "do you have an issue with me?" it's been four sessions of the frigid tension he always puts between you two and there's a lot more to come before graduation so you just want to get whatever problems he has with you out of the way.

it takes a few seconds before he's looking up from the textbook, pushing his glasses up as he sends you probably the most intimidating glare you've seen from him. "excuse me?" the very tone of his voice has goosebumps forming on your skin but you force yourself to stand your ground. you're not going to let some loser who's probably never even kissed someone to look down on you.

"you— you just seem to—"

"i don't have an issue with you y/n." he slams the book on the table causing you to jump. "having an issue with someone like you would imply i care enough and trust me i'll never care for such a ditzy little slut who doesn't respect herself."

you've been called worse than that and usually by scorned boys you hooked up with. but they were popular gym rats, not some overconfident lanky freak. you had a snarky reply on the tip of your tongue but with the cogs in your brain suddenly malfunctioning, you could only stutter out a pathetic, "i—i'm none of those things!"

"really?" he scoffs, actually getting up and walking over and as he does you think maybe it would've been a safer option to just keep your mouth shut. "wide doe eyes without nothing behind them. check." he starts. "plump lips perfect for what you do best. check." and the asshole has the nerve to slowly swipe his fingers across your bottom lip.

you should stand up, tell him to go to hell and get out of here but you're frozen. limbs not moving an inch as he continues, "empty little head. check. skimpy outfits to attract attention. check. i mean let's face the facts.."

you never would've thought the loser that always sits in the back of the class with his nose buried deep in a book would speak like this to you. it's insulting. freaking degrading. he knows nothing about you and yet he has that expression on his face like he does. "if i'm such a ditzy little slut as you so nicely put then i'd be jumping at the chance to hook up with you but here we are." you seethe.

that seems to finally strike a nerve as he scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. you cut him off before he can defend himself.

"is that it...you're angry i haven't made a move on you because that's what sluts do isn't it? bone everything they see? is your pride wounded that i don't see you in that way, eren?" you let out a mirthless laugh. "well news flash, pretty girls like me don't go for freaks like you."

you got up, ready to grab your things and run out all while trying to ignore the nerves inside of you. he just stands there, rigid and glaring. "really?" he asks once your books are back in your bag.

"y—yes. now if you'll excuse me—" your wrist is being grabbed before you can take another step and for a second both of you are stunned, you mostly frozen in your spot because this creep has the audacity to touch you after everything he just said. you don't know what his excuse is but he only stands there like a shocked puppy before pushing you on the desk.

a gasp escapes your lips at being manhandled by him of all people, what the fuck is he doing? you're on your stomach, feet on the ground as the fucker puts a hand on your back, keeping you there. "w-what are you doing?" you pant out, bewildered at everything that just happened.

"i..." he trails off, not saying anything before manhandling you again. only this time it's for you to lay on your back and fuck, you could fight back. he's surprisingly strong for such a lanky freak but you're a cheerleader who does complex moves out on the field almost every day. you could kick him off, slam that big textbook in his face to the point his nose breaks and run out, making sure to report him.

but you don't. it's not that you can't. for some reason, you just don't want to. maybe it's curiosity, to see what exactly he plans on doing. to see if a loser like him actually has the balls to do anything but back away and apologize profusely.

"you're not fighting back." he simply says, sounding a bit confused as he comes to lean over your body. his hands on either side of your head as he stares down, those stupid piercing eyes staring down at you. "why?"

"shouldn't i be the one asking the questions here? like why the fuck you have me on this desk?"

he raises an eyebrow, leaning back and grabbing your thighs causing you to squeal in surprise. he spreads them, raising the dress you’re wearing until it's pooling at your stomach before you can even blink.

shit. what's wrong with him?

what's wrong with you? you should be kicking at him, you could easily shove him off. you could do it in a blink of an eye so why the hell aren't you.

where there's supposed to be fear...there's only anticipation. "you really are a slut." he laughs cruelly, pulling your panties down until they're completely off. where he throws them, you don't know. probably in some corner to hide so you forget about them, who knows what a pervert like him would do with it?

"you barely know me and yet...look at this." you shudder as his finger circles your clit before swiping across your cunt, bringing his hand up to show you your slick as if for emphasis.

"shut up." you grit through your teeth. "you're—" you don't have time to finish your insult before he's kneeling down, tongue immediately latching onto your clit.

your nails instantly scrape against the desk, shuddering as he begins to suckle on your clit. his tongue delves into you, fingers digging into your thighs on purpose as if the freak wants to hurt you. you can play that game too if he wants, fingers going to grab at the strands of his dark hair, pulling as you ground your hips against his annoyingly experienced tongue.

usually, your sexual partners don't willingly choose to eat you out but here is he. practically eager to get to business. he acted so high and mighty and still has the gall to continue doing so yet he's the one on his knees right now. freaking nerds are so easy. even overly judgmental ones with sharp gazes.

he’s basically lapping at you, moving from sucking your clit to eagerly drinking up your juices. never coming up for air as if he was made to simply do this. "f—fuck." you didn't want to make any noises, any implications that what he's doing is actually making you feel good but dammit it's hard when a tongue is diving deep into your most sensitive parts.

a particular bite has you instantly bringing your legs together but he quickly grabs them, forcing them apart to shove his face in between your thighs again. your breath catches in your throat as he licks up your dripping pussy. he doesn’t relent even once and the moans won’t stop escaping your lips, “sl—slow down. gonna…dammit.”

his tongue licks…freaking everywhere. the obscene noises causing you to hang your head back, he’s licking and sucking everything up as if it’s his favorite meal.

and it’s embarrassing. how fast you come. but how can not you? you mercilessly pull at his hair and shamelessly moan when you do. somehow you're the sweating and panting one as he stands up. "so that's what all the hype is about?" he tsk, seemingly bored.

it takes a few seconds for you to find the breath to say “don't act like you didn't enjoy that, with the way you were eagerly—”

"shut up." he takes his glasses off, putting them to the side before grabbing your thighs and pulling you closer to him.

"you're disgusting, you know? the nerve you have—"

"i spent the last two hours teaching you simple biology and somehow you couldn't do one question by yourself, if i'm testy that's all on you.

"it's not my fault." it comes out as a whine and you hate it, you were supposed to be insulting him. at least have some pride when you're about to be fucked by the guy who looks at you like you're nothing but a dirty piece of gum.

"shut up, for crying out loud. shut up." his voice is raspy as he unbuckles the belt to his revolting khakis.

you can't help as your eyes widen once his cock is in view. for such a nerd, he's actually packing. one hand holds your hips as the other guides his dick towards your leaking area and slight panic starts to take over. "a-aren't you gonna prep?" as orgasmic as that oral job was, you doubt just that will be enough to prepare you for that.

he grins, probably the first smile you've ever seen on his annoyingly handsome face. "don't worry, i'm sure a slut like you has a loose enough cunt."

"you little shit! that's—" your words get caught in your throat, back arching as he moves his hips forward, piercing inside of you. "fuck."

a broken sound leaves your lips as he continues to push his length in. it doesn't hurt like you expected it to but there's still a strong ache that you know will leave you limping tomorrow morning. it burns, burns so good you have to squeeze your eyes shut. you need something to hold onto as he starts to move, anything to give you some sort of balance but the flat surface underneath you offers no help. "ngh...eren..." you're not sure what you want to say but he doesn't give you time to think of something before he sets a rhythm.

it's surprisingly slow at first, like he wants you to feel every vein on his cock and you do. your walls desperately clench around him as you bite on your bottom lip, the room suddenly feeling too hot as his fingers grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. into that stupid gaze he won't stop staring at you with. his mouth is slightly open but no sound comes out. he's perfectly collected and you hate it. people like him should be cumming the second you touch them but he's...it's annoying.

his pace starts to speed up—he doesn't even give it another second before he's ramming inside of you. holding your hips with both hands as he sets a brutal pace that has you moving up and down the desk. "p-pretty decent for a nerd—ah!"

still, he stays silent. ugh, what's wrong with him? you bring your arm up to your mouth, muffling the moans spilling out of your lips in spite but his hands are immediately pulling them off. he chuckles, coming close enough that his breath fans against your face and a lewd moan comes out of you as he hits an even deeper spot. "don't do that, we all know this is what you want. to be fucked hard and fast to the point you're nothing but a mindless whore whose only purpose is to scream in pleasure."

you don't respond, biting down hard on your lips. his thrusts became more aggressive as he scoffs, "fine." his hand finds its way to your throat, squeezing slightly.

you suck in a shuddering breath just as his hold tightens, bordering on dangerous but for some reason the lack of air only makes your pussy throb, clenching tight around him. why does it feel good? why does everything he's doing to you only make you want more? his thrusts have now gotten erratic, almost forcing your body off the desk but the hold on your hips and throat keep you right where you are. you want to let out the moan clawing out from inside your throat but his grip stays, merciless as he pounds into you.

you don't know how much of this you can take, everything feels too hot. it's too much. "fuck look at you, didn't think you could look even more dumb." he pants, staring down. he finally removes his hand from your throat and you cry out the second he does.

"eren, please i'm—fuck...too much, it's too much." you gasp even though a sick part of you knows you could do this all night.

but right now...with the way his voice is dripping with cockiness— you hate it, hate the way he looks at you and talks to you. it's infuriating and too much. a tsk comes out of his mouth, "who knew you had a limit?" he rolls his eyes and in the next second, he's spilling inside of you. spilling and spilling until some drip on the floor.

like he's been holding himself back all this time.

fuck. he could've at least let you release a second time. you didn't think the asshole would be finishing right after you said that. you're panting, eyes staring at the white ceiling as he pulls out. he zips up his stupid ugly looking khakis as he steps back. "can you get off my desk now?"

the nerve of him...ugh. you slowly sit up, dress sticking to your skin due to the sweat and you have to refrain from asking to use his shower before leaving.

he gets you your bag and you slowly take it, throat aching and dry. there'll definitely be bruises around your throat and hips tomorrow and you're sure he's secretly delighted at that fact. "uh...." you trail off.

this is usually the part where they ask for your number, pleading for a second night with that desperate look in their eyes but he doesn't even send you another glance as he gathers up the papers on the desk, putting them into a binder. "make sure to study before sleeping tonight...if your body can handle that." his lips slightly curve up at that last part but he's not bragging, no just mocking you.

"o...okay." you lick your dry lips, suddenly needing a mint. "uh...bye?" you stand up too fast, cursing at yourself for it but his arm is around your hips before you can fall.

you bite the inside of your cheek, the proximity too close even though he was just inside of you a minute ago. he sighs, "do you need a ride home?" he asks grudgingly.

and you should say no. you don't need to be in an enclosed space with this asswipe for another second. just say no and walk into class the next day, demanding for another tutor. and then you'll never have to talk to him ever again.

but instead a weak nod comes out.

#eren x y/n #eren x you #eren x reader #attack on titan fic #eren jeager x reader #eren smut #eren yeager #eren jaeger

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favoniuscodex · 3 years

Text

the art of modernity [ chapter one ]

chapter one - awakening pairing: xiao x gn!reader warnings: canon-typical violence mention, medication mention words: ~1.6k words fic masterlist [ prev ] - [ next ] chapter summary: sure, xiao might be pointing his polearm at your neck and have an utterly terrifying aura, but you'll get out of this alive, right? right? a/n: THERE IS A PROLOGUE to this! lots of questions raised in this chapter, but very few are actually answered! don't worry, they'll all be answered in due time!

the blade of the polearm is cold as it rests upon the skin of your neck. the disrupted adeptus has a scowl on his face yet holds the weapon with a precision only seen in thousands of years of experience. sure, xiao hasn't sliced open your neck, but one wrong move and he likely would. xiao's amber eyes flicker from you to the group of your friends who stand on the other side of the pillar and, despite your fascination with the being in front of you, you can't help but follow his gaze.

kaeya and keqing look terrified, yanfei looks uneasy, and, surprisingly, childe is the only one who does not look unsettled by the situation. while you were not necessarily fearful of the yaksha before, you are certainly fearful of the defiant look that crosses childe's expression. it's the same one that he gets when he decides he can make a yellow light before it turns red and immediately guns the engine to hurtle across the intersection. nothing good ever comes out of his defiance, so you clear your throat, ignoring how the blade scrapes lightly against your skin as you do so, and redirect the yaksha's attention.

"with all due respect," you begin, causing xiao to narrow his eyes. "i can tell you are a yaksha based on your mask. why do you wish to bring harm to mortals?"

xiao tilts his head in confusion, eyes widening slightly at the challenge implied by your words.

"are you foolish enough to believe that i do not know of my duties?" xiao snaps at you.

"i would use the word misguid-" you begin, but in an instant, you find yourself laying flat on your back, the wind knocked out of you. ah, right. you think to yourself. he has a vision.

the world swirls above you as you attempt to regain your bearings, but the familiar sight of the polearm reappears in your line of vision, once again pointed at your neck as xiao stands to the side of you, glaring down furiously.

"you are not entirely human," xiao states and you bite back a nervous laugh. maybe you were in over your head here. "do not pretend to be what you are not in feeble attempts to correct me."

"w- what?" you sputter in confusion, but before you can actually get an answer, childe finally acts. he lets out a war cry and charges forward, arms outstretched in hopes of tackling xiao. however, xiao steps out of the way and watches as childe stumbles and falls into the water surrounding you all.

"dumbass," you hear keqing mutter angrily.

"fight me!" childe demands as he splashes towards you and xiao once more. xiao only looks at him, unamused.

"i have no desire to hurt humans, as annoying as you can be," xiao states, thoroughly irritated by childe's disruption. "i will not fight you."

"so then why do you want to hurt my friend?" childe pouts. his stature screams defiance, yet even he's smart enough to know that he cannot win a battle against an immortal, especially not like this.

yet, before xiao can answer, yanfei steps forward, eyes glowing threateningly.

"xiao. that is enough," she snaps, glaring at him while standing tall. "i know you can sense their energies too, but, for all intents and purposes, they are human."

xiao retracts his polearm from your neck before tapping the base of it against the ground. it disappears from his hand and he folds his arms across his chest, looking at yanfei judgingly.

archons, you think as you sit up, gaze flickering between the two of them. what is happening?

"you frolic with the mortals too often, yanfei," xiao says disapprovingly. "and yet you let them enter jueyun karst under your supervision."

"it is not illegal. besides, i thought most adepti were living within their abodes after humanity rejected them, xiao," yanfei states. the authoritative challenge that you recognize from her practice of law taints her voice, yet somehow it now feels... otherworldly.

is yanfei..? you think, but xiao's next words confirm your suspicions.

"i still have my contract with rex lapis to uphold," xiao states. "you are fortunate enough to not have had to sign one."

keqing and kaeya stand behind yanfei and xiao, as a sopping wet childe slowly sneaks over to them. all three of them look baffled as the realization slowly dawns over them as well. yanfei is an adeptus.

in your search for the old immortals, you had never stopped to consider the presence of one in front of you. you feel like a fool as shame at your obliviousness begins to set in. yanfei? one of your closest friends? an adeptus?

"does your contract involve pointing polearms at the descendants of gods?" yanfei asks xiao accusatorily. gods, maybe you did hit your head on that chunk of cor lapis. there was no way yanfei was talking about you? descendant of what? was this your moment when the god of your ancestry would lay their claim to you? give you superpowers? give you-

"(y/n) is just a mortal besides that energy they emit. so calm down, i've been keeping an eye on them too," yanfei tells xiao and the hope in your chest dies. sure, you emitted some weird 'energy' or whatever the hell they were saying, but you weren't about to inherit some super cool powers or actually have something to flex to people. instead, you just had some worn-out old 'energy' that seemed to only make adepti wary of you. great.

"what energy?" you finally asked, confused, and both of the adepti's attention snaps back to you. xiao's gaze trails over to yanfei as he shrugs his shoulders at her, expecting her to answer. she lets out a huff and clears her throat.

"strictly speaking, you emit an energy that likely only adepti can detect, considering keqing, kaeya, and childe have never pointed it out to you. i highly doubt it is anything you can manipulate, but it appears to be a calming energy of sorts," yanfei explains, yet it only serves to raise even more questions. but now isn't the time to get your answers for those types of questions. instead, you send a bewildered expression at xiao.

"you were going to kill me because my presence is calming?!" you snap. respect for the adepti be damned, you no longer cared about any of that mythology crap at the moment. you were just irate that xiao had pointed his weapon at you over something so trivial. xiao looks startled at your accusation, yet yanfei cuts him off with a laugh.

"you haven't changed at all, huh, xiao?" yanfei asks, yet her voice is much softer this time. "it is good to see you."

xiao's eyes narrow at her before his posture relaxes. "likewise," he mutters, but you're not entirely sure if he's telling the truth or if it's just a formality. silence settles between the six of you and it does nothing but answer your question. the immortal green dude was really going to kill you over being a walking anti-anxiety medication. archons, the illuminated beasts aren't as cool as you thought they were.

"i do not trust you," xiao snaps at you, breaking the silence, and you bite back a sigh of frustration.

"okay?" you ask, absolutely baffled by the situation. what the hell were you supposed to do about that? his weapon was no longer pointed at you.

"(y/n) is trustworthy," yanfei says, glaring at xiao. "if you want to know more, then why don't you come stay with us in liyue harbor?"

us? you think, wondering what the hell yanfei is getting you into. i'm not trustworthy? you're the one who was lying about being an adeptus this whole time!

"'us'?" kaeya finally speaks up, ignoring the warning glare he receives from keqing because of it. "we don't all live together, yanfei, you're going to have to be more specific than that."

"he can stay with (y/n)!" yanfei chirps and you feel your soul die inside a little. "(y/n) has a spare bedroom they were looking to rent out in their apartment, right? i'll pay xiao's rent and he can stay with them!"

"yanfei," keqing begins, voice cautious. "he just threatened to kill them."

"yeah, yeah, that's just him being a grumpy old adeptus!" yanfei says and you can only watch in shock as yanfei offers up your own place on your behalf to an adeptus. an adeptus. slowly, your childlike wonder begins to creep back into your brain, clouding your judgement. sure, he seemed grumpy, but this was one of the mythological beings you had been wondering about for years. besides, you still trusted yanfei enough to know that she wouldn't just throw some adeptus into your apartment if he would kill you in your sleep. sure, you had questions for her, but..? would xiao smite you if you refused?

you part your lips to speak, but xiao's response to yanfei's proposal shocks you back into silence.

"sure. i will accompany you to liyue harbor," xiao says.

great. you think. i can't just pester yanfei for answers instead?

taglist:

@somemothgoingferal @miicachii @hq149 @albedostar @the-astrumnauta @falconcoast @dilucsz @transactionalrelationship @koko-cherry @dumpling-gif @shulkerdotjar @popdrop @seokflwr @solarpearl @tsubaki3192 @marifujioka @astronomeh @daichiri @cryspyjk @svnflowery @anseoo @rintaoreo @fuhuashandholder @squashbee @qiqiscocogoatmilk @rry0ko @kaaaeya @koi-chairowo @fandoms-on-main @mikatsukki

please send in an ask (not submission or dm!) to be placed on the taglist! if your name is in italics that means i am unable to tag you!

#xiao x reader #xiao #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #axia's writing #//taom

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kikizoshi · 2 years

Text

Nikolai Hot-Takes

Based on existent panels:

Nikolai is, to some degree, unaware of modern things. He only has a tangential idea of what a band is ("A band is like an orchestra, right?"). I assume he only has a tangential idea of fast fashion, too. Like, "Oh, those clothes stores are like Koroviev's Ladies' Shop, right?"

I don't quite understand it, but as overtainted mentioned, Nikolai's right eye really does appear completely black when he's being ingenuine, and more light/clear when he's being genuine. I'm not sure if it's artistic or his eye really does change colours (Fyodor's eyes appear pitch black sometimes too, and fuzzy white others, which is why I'm assuming it's like Dazai's 'eyes losing light' thing), which is one reason I'm so much anticipating his animation. Anyway, that could be a reason that he covers his eye with a playing card, and if so, I think there is something crucial he's not letting on about concerning his 'Gogol's Apostate Game'. His card was on the entire time during that scene, and in general, he was in his usual clown persona that I've come to associate with masking the truth.

Nikolai loves tongue twisters and other word games of the sort.

I don't think Nikolai cares for anyone to think like him, nor does he think that others should. He mentions to Tonan that he envies people like him, who are born in a cage and die never realising it. He never tries to convince anyone, not Tonan, Atsushi, or Sigma of his ideology. He tries to explain, but he doesn't try to convince. I think he doesn't particularly care whether people think like himself, and his reason for killing someone would never be "to free them."

Nikolai only exists to ferry important plot devices along. As much as I love him, I can't deny that unfortunate existence. Alas, the soul that wishes to be free is ultimately bound to his fate as a paperboy... Genuinely, though, Nikolai is ever-interesting to me and easily one of my favourite characters, but I have to wonder whether his rapid changing of heart every new scene is representative of his increasingly manic state, or directly related to where Asagiri needs him to be and what he needs him to do. I lean towards the latter.

Indulgent ideas:

I think Nikolai could be from a similar place as Kenji (that is, a nonexistent, old-fashioned village). It would explain his seeming lack of awareness about something like a band. I can't say that his clothing supports this theory, since lots of BSD characters dress historically. But Nikolai being from someplace like Dikanka would be a cool nod to Gogol's earlier works, the same way Ihatov is a nod to Miyazawa's.

I think Nikolai and Fyodor met as adults, rather than in their youth. I don't have any basis for this, it's just a feeling.

I'm holding onto the idea that we haven't seen all of Nikolai's Ability yet. My only justification is that, while powerful, I don't see what an object transfer Ability has to do with The Overcoat, and it would be both interesting and in-keeping with Nikolai's character if the real purpose of his Ability had little to do with object transferring, but Nikolai rejected the idea of whatever it does (considering it's The Overcoat, his true Ability could contradict his own ideology, since The Overcoat seems to me to be Gogol's explanation of why people should never rise above their station), and made use of his Ability in his own way. All we know about Nikolai's Ability is that it can transfer objects within a thirty-metre range, that it connects to his cape, and that it might be able to store objects. (Though that last one I'm still not very certain of. Every time his Ability is explained, it seems to just transfer objects and not store them, but then there are scenes like when Nikolai takes out the poison briefcase, which it makes more sense to assume he stored in his Ability than he hid it in a neighbouring room and pulled it out from there, plus how he got the cart with the four objects to choose from into the prison in the first place, if he could only transfer things thirty metres at a time. But it's not impossible that he did those things without storing the objects in his Ability, so it's hard to say.) All that is to say, whether his true Ability is more similar to Montgomery's, I couldn't say, but if he does have s pocket dimension in his Overcoat, I find my "more to Nikolai's Ability than meets the eye" theory much more likely than if it only transfers objects.

I think Nikolai doesn't speak in exclamation points most of the time. We usually see him clownish and manic, but I think the more genuine side of him we see when he's talking to Atsushi, and the sort of insane genuine face that he showed to Sigma are a lot closer to his personality in his off-time. I don't have much basis for this, I just find it more believable.

Nikolai has a large nose (I know he isn't drawn that way), a unique interest in noses and nose-related things, a great passion for food, and doesn't understand women half as well as he understands men. These things are based entirely on Gogol and his works, but I love them so much that even if the first contradicts canon and the latter ones have no canonical evidence, I indulge my belief in them anyway.

#Mar. 2022 #bsd #bsd nikolai #bsd gogol #bsd nikolai gogol #bsd gogol nikolai #bsd headcanons #bsd hot takes #bsd theories #bsd theory #nikolai headcanons #nikolai theory #nikolai theories

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lazarettta · 3 years

Text

Misthios III

Characters (Mother Miranda, Alcina Dimitrescu, Reader)

Word count (2k)

Rating (T)

Warning (straight zooted, none)

Countess Dimitrescu takes you home.

Any mistakes you find, blame it on the herbs.

Only taking a few steps from your holding cell, you were startled with what awaited you.

You weren't sure what to expect when you were about to meet Lady Dimitrescu but what you got wasn't on the top of your list; her inhuman beauty or her height. She was taller than tall and for a split second you actually gawked at the woman before remembering yourself and thankfully your jaw snapped shut inaudibly but she'd already caught you.

“This is (Y/n), take her to your castle and keep her there until I call.” You frowned at her words, you weren't some goddamn pet to keep and she had another thing coming if she thought that you were just going to sit around twiddling your thumbs. Miranda stopped next to the tall woman near the door and a small torch light, “Not a scratch, Alcina.”

“Of course, Mother Miranda.” She seemed amused and she clearly wasn't as human as she portrayed herself to be. You'd place a bet wagering that she is one of the myths you haven't yet tracked down...but which one?

Miranda didn't spare you another glance and she was gone within a blink of an eye, leaving you two alone, you cleared your throat bringing the woman's honey eyes to you again. “But you will refer to me as lady Dimitrescu.”

Keeping up with Alcina's long strides down the dreary pathway wasn't an easy feature especially given that the hallway itself was narrow and you didn't really have any interest in touching the walls. They were wet but it did not look or smell like water. Eventually the woman came to a stop, right in front of an iron door that turned out to be an elevator shaft—a bit like the ones used when mining was still a thing.

Prison cells in some abandoned underground mining tunnels, Miranda? Always so dark and mysterious...

The silence between you both was thick and a bit awkward and you could feel her caution and curiosity rolling off of her in waves and you knew that she was occasionally glancing at you because you were doing the same thing while you both waited for the elevator shaft to come down. This place just continued to get more and more curious—what other wonders was this village in the mountains hiding away from the rest of the world? But you were quick to chastise yourself for the thought, curiosity always killed the cat, (Y/n)...

“Yes,” her voice was low and deep this time opposed to the thunderous tone she was using earlier, “but satisfaction brought it back.”

You hadn't been aware that you spoke out loud. Having allowed yourself to be distracted with your thoughts that you failed to take notice of how much more observant the other woman became towards you the minute you both loaded onto the old shaft. Though the old thing hardly made a sound under lady Dimitrescu's weight despite the fact that in order to enter she had to duck a little for herself and her large brimmed hat.

Shoving your hands in your pocket, you turned slightly to look up at her making sure to keep your eyes above those pearls wrapped around her pale neck and accenting that decolletage—no doubt purposely done. “Ah, I haven't had that recited back to me in a very long time.”’

“Then you’re not keeping the right company.”

Your mouth twitched around a smile before you schooled it away, “That would be true if I actually had any friends...or family.”

Lady Dimitrescu raised an eyebrow, not that you’d see it because of her hat casting a shadow over a majority of her face, “Handsome thing like you without friends or family? Doubtful. Surely you have someone waiting for you? You seem like the type to have a maiden or two at your feet.”

This time you couldn’t push back your smile, you knew that she was fishing for some answers about your character—and no doubt trying to figure out why Miranda thought you were special enough to be placed under her word of protection, as if you actually needed it.

But that was all fine because you’d do the same thing, in fact you already were but you’d give her something—an inevitable piece of information that will come to light soon enough. She was already suspicious so it really was just a matter of you beating her to the punchline.

“Nope, none of the above. People just have this pesky little habit of dying on me.”

She chuckled, low and deep and you felt it a bit (and fuck was this the longest elevator ride you’ve ever been on), “Oh I know of that nuisance all too well myself.”

“Do you now?”

“Oh quite dear.” There was a bit of a sinister flare to her tone behind that innocent smile and shrug she tried to sell you. “One could even say it's my favorite pastime.”

And right as you were about to press another question the shaft came to a screeching halt, oh…how convenient. You swore you saw Lady Dimitrescu outright grinning before she ducked out ahead of you, if you didn’t know better you’d say she read your mind.

The moment you stepped out of the shaft and through the opening of the alcove, you were severely unprepared for the harsh winter wind or how well into the evening it’s become and the conversation earlier was placed on the backburner.

Less than two hundred feet away there was a stagecoach waiting with four black horses attached. The stagecoach was all black with gold trimmings, a style fit for royalty—you’ve seen enough of them in your lifetime to know.

There was a young man half frozen next to it as he waited for Lady Dimitrescu’s approach, nearly stuttering out all of his teeth to greet her but she hardly paid him any attention, gracefully ducking inside. The young man gawked at you as you entered the coach behind his employer but was quick to close the door after you.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the tips of your ears heating up when you had to brush past her crossed legs to sit on the bench across from her and she made no effort to move, only watching you while smoking from her cigarette stick.

The stagecoach had a bigger interior than the exterior let on, accommodating the dark haired beauty perfectly. Though she was sitting at a sideways angle she seemed very comfortable and she was easily dumping the ashes outside of the cracked window.

“Is there anyway to get my things back…it had a majority of my clothes in there.” Or get back to your camp—it was probably ruined by now, either by wild animals or nature itself.

“We will accommodate you at the castle.” Her gaze was on you again but you were busy looking out of the window down at the village, now that it was nightfall everyone had their lights on—it was bigger than what you expected. “I don’t suppose you like dresses?”

As you suspected, the inside of her castle was just as massive and beautiful in it's antiquity as it was on the outside. The estate was kept in pristine condition and you were honestly impressed with what you saw. But it was really warm though not uncomfortably so. You two had barely stepped into the lobby of her castle with you mostly admiring how easily she was able to bend at the waist without batting an eye to get through a door that wasn't custom sized for her. She seemed used to it but you wondered why she didn't correct the doors.

“Hmm. Nice castle but why is it so warm? I might have to sleep with a window open.” you joked, still taking in everything and you had yet to notice how your words affected your host.

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned on you so fast you actually did run into the taller woman. Your entire face was lost in a world of firm fluffiness and your senses were filled with the very essence of Lady Dimitrescu. Though before you could scramble away with an apology on the tip of your tongue, Lady Dimitrescu was moving before you and she had reached down and she fisted the back of your parka and kept you right where you were, close and trapped.

You were forced to look up at her between her bust, or let them suffocate you, and she was already looking down at you with a hard look but you had no idea what the hell you did.

“You open a window in my castle and you won't be sleeping at all, guest to Mother Miranda be damned.” she snarled, her tone steely and you had no choice but to listen—even if she didn’t have you in a death grip, “The windows are off limits. Do not open them. Do not touch them. Are we clear?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, still struggling against her unyielding hold and against your rising temper, “What the—”

“Do you understand?” she tightened her grip on the back of your clothing, forcing the collar of every layer you wore to constrict around your throat at an alarming fast rate.

“Understood.” you gritted, your blunt nails digging her soft flesh beneath your hands that was her stomach but you doubted that your nails were as deadly as hers. You didn't bother to tell her that it was a joke and you were quick to straighten yourself out as you caught your balance when she released you with a bit of a pull against your parka forcing you away from her. You cursed her in your native tongue but her attentions were now focused on something to your left—no, on someone.

“Ah, good! Servant, come here,” a young girl no older than twenty quickly came over, bowing her head awkwardly.

“Y-yes Lady Dimitrescu, how may I serve—”

Alcina cut in quickly as if she had better things to do, and she did, “You're not serving me tonight, girl. This (Y/n). She will be staying in the guest room to the left of the wine room and you will be tending to her every need for the duration of her stay, and I do mean her every need.” though her tone was cheerful there was an undertone of a threat if her instructions went under-performed. Alcina winked at you as she hadn't almost choked you out in the middle of her foyer.

“Yes ma'am, I understand.”

The maiden nearly nodded her head from her shoulders. She was so terrified. If you were blind you would've assumed it was her first day, but a good portion of you knew that it was something else—you remembered quite well how Miranda preferred to run her own kingdom and you weren't surprised that this woman had similar tastes.

“Keep your pleasantries. Just show me to my room and leave me before I really lose my fucking temper.” you snarled at both of them, namely the Lady of the castle. You were able to physically restrain yourself from starting a brawl with this woman but your mouth has almost always gotten you into more than half the situations that left marks all over your body.

Lady Dimitrescu looked back to you, tilting her head back slightly as if she was just finally taking notice of how hard you were glaring at her. She did not know why as it could've been for a number of things that have happened within the last five minutes.

Alcina's eyes shifted from you to the trembling maiden between the two of you, then back to you again, “Are we going to have an issue, (Y/n)?” and clearly misunderstanding the reason for your ire.

You scoffed knowing when to pick your battles and how she handles her staff was not one of them. But how she handled you was, “Manhandle me again and we will.”

The maiden gasped at your audacity and flinched sharply when Alcina chuckled while setting her hand on her hip. She found more and more curious and she was starting to see why Miranda liked you so much before. There was a spirit that burned inside of you—strong and rattling in its cage, she could see it in your eyes even as you restrained yourself.

The maiden opened her eyes when she didn't feel the whoosh of Lady Dimitrescu slapping you through the wall, she was surprised to see you still standing there alive. The maiden looked at you in awe before bowing her head, “P-please follow me, ma'am.”

Alcina still stood there with her hand on her hip and another one of her cigarettes was lit, watching you follow the little maiden through one of the side doors when a familiar buzzing made itself known until Bela was standing next to her, snuggled close as she wiped the blood from her mouth with the sleeve of her black shift. It needed to be washed anyway.

“Mother, who is that? Another meal?”

“No,” Alcina answered softly, reaching down with her free hand to push back Bela's hood so she could comb out a few tangles in her eldest daughter's blonde hair, “But she is very interesting, isn't she?”

“Yes, but who is she?” Bela asked again, this time looking up at Alcina.

“Perhaps a friend, or foe, that has yet to reveal itself. But for now, go and collect your sisters dear and meet me in my study...I wish to talk to them about something more pressing.”

Bela was gone in an instant, the synchronized buzzing of dozens of blowflies disappearing quickly leaving Alcina alone with her thoughts.

Here is a link to the Ao3 version of this story...if it's easier than tumblr...

#resident evil village #mother miranda x reader #alcina x reader #resident evil 8 #mother miranda #lady alcina x reader #resident evil miranda x reader

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marvelmusing · 3 years

Text

Making Time

Mobius M Mobius x Reader

Part 2

My Masterlist

“1985, huh?” You say, looking up from the briefing Mobius has just handed you.

“Yeah, maybe we’ll spot a delorian?” He jokes, making a Back to the Future reference. You smile at him, remembering when you’d first mentioned the movie. You hadn’t been at the TVA long, to your knowledge.

You’re sat in one of the cafes, explaining something about the timeline to Casey, and you make an offhand reference to the movie. To which, Casey looks even more confused. You glance at Mobius, who’s been sat next to you, watching your teaching with a smile. You offer them both a small smile, at yet another reminder that you’re from somewhere very different from the rest of them.

“Neither of you have seen it have you?” Mobius shakes his head.

“Not a lot of chances for watching movies when dealing with the timeline. Should we get the chance, I’d love to.” It’s a few days later when you give him the chance.

“Honey, I’m home.” You hear Mobius call out, which brings a smile to your face. Whilst you had your own apartment, you much preferred staying with Mobius, like you did when you first arrived at the TVA. You hear him set down a pile of papers in the kitchen, before making his way into the lounge where you’re sat waiting for him. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“What’s all this?”

“Back to the Future. I went through my file, and managed to find a version that I watched that was uninterrupted. Then I isolated it, and copied it onto one of those cassette reel things, so that it’ll play on your mini projector.” You pause, before adding, “I probably put too much effort into this but, I thought we could have what my time considers a movie night?”

“A movie night?” Your face falls slightly, feeling embarrassed by your suggestion.

“We don’t have to-“ you start. He shrugs off his jacket and settles down next to you.

“Did I not tell you I wanted to watch it, should I get the chance?”

“Well, yeah.” He gestures to the projector.

“Let’s get this show on a roll.” You grin at him, before quickly pressing play on the projector. Mobius leans an arm on the couch and pulls you to his side. “You finally have clearance to access to your file, and you use it to watch Back to the Future?”

“What else was I supposed to do with it?” You joke.

You and Mobius head to the cubicle where you left Loki this morning. You spot him wapping against the desk with a magazine.

“Training going well?” You ask him. He leans back in his chair, attempting to look casual.

“Yeah.”

“Is that my jet ski magazine?” Mobius asks him. “Put it down. Gear up. There's been an attack. Let's go.” He hands Loki the jacket he’s been carrying. You set the briefing down on the desk, and follow Mobius. Loki trails behind you. “Put it on.” Loki shrugs the jacket on, adjusting the collar before posing.

“Nice.” You tell him with a smile.

“Good. Yeah, smart.” Mobius says distractedly. You soon reach the Timedoors, where a small group of hunters have gathered to wait. B-15 opens up the briefing.

“C-20 and her team went dark shortly after they jumped into the 1985 branch. All signs point to another ambush. We've grabbed enough temporal aura to know it's our Loki Variant. But which kind of Loki, remains unknown.”

“They're the lesser kind, to be clear.” Loki specifies. B-15 sighs,

“Let me see the back of that jacket.” Loki does a small turn, showing the group the back of his jacket, where the bright orange letters reading VARIANT stand out. Everyone is the group shares a small smile. You’re glad you don’t have to wear one of those anymore.

“Very subtle. Well done.”

“I don't want anybody out there to forget what you are.”

“Oh, your only hope of capturing a murderer?”

“No. A cosmic mistake.”

“That's enough.” Mobius interrupts.

“Lovely.” You hear Loki murmur.

“Here's the deal.” Mobius begins. “When we get out on the branch, we're not just looking for a Time Criminal. We're looking for a Loki. A variation of this guy. A type we should all be very familiar with, because the TVA has pruned a lotta these guys, almost more than any other Variant.” He skims through a few of the Loki Variants that the TVA have caught before. “And no two are alike. Slight differences in appearances, or not so slight. Different powers, although, powers generally include: shapeshifting, illusion projection, and my favourite-”

“Duplication casting.” Loki interrupts

“Illusion projection.”

“No, they're two completely different powers.”

“How?” You ask him.

“Illusion-projection involves depicting a detailed image from outside oneself, which is perceptible in the external world, whereas duplication-casting entails recreating an exact facsimile of one's own body in its present circumstance, which acts as a true holographic mirror of its molecular structure. But you already knew that.” He explains. You catch a glimpse of Mobius’s smirk before he says,

“Okay, take a breath. Noted. We're gonna break into two teams, including myself and Professor Loki.”

“Why?” A hunter stood beside you asks.

“Because whoever this Variant is, we haven't been able to find him. So let's bring in an expert.” Loki looks around at the group before adding a quiet,

“That's me.”

As the hunters prepare themselves, you hear Loki ask, “Do I get a weapon?” You laugh lightly,

“No chance.”

“Well, I'll have my magic back. Is no one concerned about that?”

“Of what?” Mobius asks.

“Me betraying you.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“You know that we’ll just catch you again.” You tell him.

“And how's betraying us gonna get you any closer to the Time-Keepers?” Mobius adds. Loki leans forward, his attention fixed on Mobius.

“An audience with the Time-Keepers is on the table?”

“Keep that focus.” Mobius tells him. The three of you follow the hunters through the Timedoor, and out into 1985 Wisconsin. Your group makes their way through the crowd of the Renaissance fair before entering a large tent. It’s dark inside, with only a few lanterns to light your path. You watch as B-15 bends down to grasp examine a helmet left abandoned on the floor.

“So he's taking hostages now?” She says, turning to Mobius.

“The Variant's never taken a hostage before.”

“Maybe he's upping his game.”

“Or he pruned her.” One of the hunters remarks, you frown at his callousness towards his colleague.

“A Loki couldn't have gotten the jump on C-20.”

“I think you underestimate, actually...” Loki begins.

“Fan out and search for her. And hurry up, we're at three units until red line.” B-15 orders. Mobius sets a hand on your arm, and the two of you head to the exit.

“Come on.” He says to Loki.

“Wait. If you leave this tent, you'll end up like them.” Mobius stops beside Loki.

“What do you see?”

“I see a scheme, and in that scheme, I see myself.” Loki begins to ramble about an old Asgardian saying.

“Two units. He is wasting our time.” B-15 interrupts.

“Okay. Come on, Loki, make a long story short.” Mobius encourages.

“We need to look for C-20.”

“That's exactly what the Variant wants you to do. It's a trap. He's waiting for you outside this tent.”

“Should I secure the reset charges?”

“No. He wants me. I'm the key to his plan. He knows that I'm stronger. And he rightly believes that together we can overthrow and rule the TVA. But that's not what I want. I have a new purpose. I'm a servant of the Sacred Timeline. And knowing what I now know about his tactics, I can deliver you the Variant, but I need assurances.” He says, looking to Mobius. You glance up at Mobius, frowning slightly. Surely he isn’t believing what Loki’s saying? His eyes catch yours and there’s a small twinkle in them. You hide your smile. Loki circles around Mobius.

“Yeah?” Mobius offers.

“Assurances that I won't be completely disintegrated the moment the job has been done.”

“Right.” Loki leans forward, before whispering,

“We'll need to speak to the Time-Keepers at once. They're in graver danger than we realized.”

“He's lying. Just playing games. There's no one out there.” Mobius calls out to the group.

“Reset the timeline.” B-15 orders.

“You had me for a second. My ears are sharp too.” He points at Loki’s chest. You follow Mobius out of the tent.

“Well that went well.” You remark, hearing Mobius sigh. He runs his hand over his face.

You’re tucking into your lunch when you spot Mobius. He picks out a drink and a salad before making his way over to you. You give him a small smile,

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How did it go with Renslayer?” He sighs, leaning his head back, before getting comfortable in his seat.

“Well, our Loki hasn’t been deleted yet.”

“That’s good then?” You offer. He sighs,

“Yeah. Though he’s getting more and more talkative.”

“You did say he loves to talk. Where is he now?”

“I’ve left him with the archives, hopefully he’ll be reading for the next few days. Or at least long enough for me to finish lunch.” He begins to eat his salad. Just then, Loki scampers in looking like a manic puppy.

“I found something.” Mobius shakes his head, keeping his attention on his lunch,

“No, I said don’t bother me until you've read all the files.”

“I have.”

“Every file?”

“Yes.”

“Pertaining to the Variant?”

“The answer isn't in the files, it's on the timeline. He's hiding in apocalypses.”

“Which apocalypse?” You ask.

“Any time in history? There's, like, a million of 'em.” Mobius adds.

“Ragnarok. Are you familiar?”

“Yes. The destruction of Asgard and most of its people. I'm sorry.” Loki pauses looking down.

“Yes, very sad.” He immediately perks up again. “Anyway, it got me thinking. Nexus events happen when someone does something they're not supposed to do, right?”

“Well, it's a little more complicated, but, yeah.”

“Great. And then that thing they're not supposed to do, cascades into a whole range of other things that aren't supposed to happen.”

“And so on and so forth, until eventually, a new timeline branches. Yes?”

“Chaotic alterations of a predetermined outcome.”

“Exactly. So, let's just say...” He picks up the salad bowl from in front of Mobius.

“Mm-hm. What are you doing?”

“...your salad is Asgard in this scenario.” Loki continues.

“It's not Asgard, that's my lunch.” Mobius complains, the pouting clear in his voice. You lean forward, a hand on your chin to hide the smile at Mobius’s reaction.

“It's a metaphor. Just hang in there.”

“I want that salad.”

“And I could go down to Asgard before Ragnarok causes its complete destruction and I could do anything I wanted. I could, let's say, push the Hulk off the Rainbow Bridge.” He picks up a salt shaker and puts a large sprinkling of salt across Mobius’s salad.

“There he goes.” You say, feeling rather invested in this metaphor.

“The salt's Hulk?” Mobius asks, clearly not as enthusiastic as you.

“And I could also... Set fire to the palace.” He picks up a pepper pot and shakes the pepper across the salad.

“No, just stop. Don't set fire to the palace.”

“Okay? I can do whatever I want to do, and it would never matter. It wouldn't go against the dictates of the timeline because...” He sets down the shakers after nearly emptying them both. He heads to the table behind you. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, God!” Mobius sighs.

“You!” Recognising the voice you look up to see Casey looking very confused.

“Nice to see you. I just need this for a second. Thanks.” Loki picks up Casey’s carton of juice, before sitting back down at your table. “Because the apocalypse is coming. Ragnarok, Surtur will destroy Asgard no matter what I do.”

“No, don't do...” Mobius sighs as Loki empties the carton over the remains of the salad.

“There's the apocalypse.” You say with a sigh, offering Mobius your bag of chips.

“That's the apocalypse?” He asks, taking a handful of chips from you with a smile.

“Ragnarok obliterates the salt. Ragnarok. There it is.” Loki gestures to the ruined salad with a proud smile.

“What am I lookin' at?”

“Okay, it was a clumsy metaphor. But you see what I mean. It doesn't matter. It could be any apocalypse. It could be a tidal wave. It could be a meteor. It could be a volcano, a supernova. If everything and everyone around you is destined for imminent destruction, then nothing that I say or do will matter, because the timeline's not gonna branch. Hence, the Variant could be hiding in the apocalypse and do whatever he wants, and we wouldn't know!”

“Not bad.” You offer.

“Take me to a real apocalypse, to Ragnarok, I'll show you.” Mobius chuckles,

“Yeah. So you can run away back to your homeland? No.”

“No, I'm not going home. We can go anywhere.”

“I'm not taking you for a stroll along the promenade, much less an apocalypse.”

“Oh, Mobius, come on! What could possibly go wrong? We gotta properly test this theory.”

“Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test.”

“I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal.” He most definitely would stab someone in the back.

“Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like 50 times.”

“Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old.” You both laugh at this. Mobius looks at you, and you shrug.

“Might as well try it?” You offer. Mobius nods,

“Okay.”

“Okay, look, you don't trust me, you can trust one thing. I love to be right.” Loki adds. That certainly isn’t a lie.

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