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mundivagantsoul · 7 months

Text

✩ Bookshopist Moonboys ✩

Part 2: "A, b, c, d-"

Moon Knight System x Reader

Summary: How the boys have been setting in at the shop

Warnings: Google translate Spanish, a bit angsty at the end with Marc’s self-doubt, coarse language, Marvel depiction of DID

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N: Gave the boys particular fonts so the dialogue isn't confusing. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading :)

Steven

Marc

Jake

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Steven navigates through the labyrinth of bookshelves with a pile of novels in hand. Lightly caressing the spines of various books, his eyes skim over the authors’ last names.

Humming the familiar tune that’s become a staple in their shifts, Steven starts, “A, b, c, d-”

A heavy Chicago accent interrupts his rhythm, “M, z, i…”

Steven sighs, ‘not this again’, he thinks, trying to drown out his headmate he continues, “E, f, g-”

“Q, l, u…” abruptly interrupts his thoughts again.

“H-”

“Y”

“I-”

“T”

“Bollocks, Marc, quit it!”

“Quit what? I’m just reciting the alphabet like you”.

“A-huh, sure you’re being a real help”

“You’re very welcome”

“Look bruv, I need to put these away, and I can’t do it with you distracting me every two seconds”

“Should've thought about that before you ate my food”

“For the last time, I didn’t eat your food!”

“A-huh suree~ First, you stole my wife, and now my food? Your old pals at the British Museum would be proud”.

“Oh for the love of- I’m sorry about Layla!”

“Ahem..”, a frail voice interrupts their dispute, peering down Steven is met with the comforting face of an old woman, “Sorry to bother you luv, can you point me in the direction of the cooking section?”

Cheeks warming up, Steven points towards the aisle, “Just go strain down here and turn right at si-fi, then a left at parenting, and it should be on your left”.

She smiles kindly up at him, “Thanks honey”, then plotters along with a slight wobble in her step.

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It’s been 3 months since they started the job, and Steven’s loving every minute of it. His presence is appreciated, and he’s surrounded by others who share similar interests. Plus, he doesn’t have an aggravating boss breathing down his neck every second, which is a bonus.

The shop has a decent history and mythology selection. Since the Thor incident in 2011 and the revelation that god exists, people have become more intrigued by mythology. There’s lots of debate amongst mythologists and historians, arguing if the term ‘mythology’ is even correct anymore. Steven remembers reading a post by The Daily Bugle, stating, "Thor is a glorified space alien, and gods don’t walk amongst us." Little did they know.

The aftermath of the past decade and the revelations it brought have given way to more accessibility to novels regarding gods and deities, something that Steven has taken full advantage of.

In his first month of employment, he had managed to procure almost all the Egyptology books in store. Marc and Jake are constantly nagging him about it, stating they don’t have the room nor income to accommodate the influx of novels. Steven’s still trying and failing to convince Marc to turn their storage unit into a personal library, receiving the same answer in return, “We’re not turning the storage unit into your book-hoarding man-cave. We got this job to earn money, not spend it all on your addiction”.

After noticing Steven had managed to clear through all the Egyptology books, you felt the need to enlighten him with some bookshop wisdom. “You know…”, You say whilst ringing up Steven’s latest purchases, “You can order more Egyptology novels from our supplier. We don’t always have enough room to keep them on hand, but I know there’s a few we can get posted in if you're interested?”.

At your words, his eyes light up and you swear stars were floating amongst his coffee eyes, “Really?!”

“Ahí van nuestros ahorros” Jake facepalms.

Surprisingly, Jake has found himself enjoying work at the quaint store. The tasks are relatively simple, mainly involving manual labour, finding books of customers, and putting through sales. At first, he’d been nervous about working at the shop. He was closing in on 40, and the only thing he’d ever served was vengeance and cunt.

Thankfully, everyone at the store was supportive and non-judgemental. You reminded him one shift, "Believe it or not Lockley, it's okay to be a beginner and make mistakes”. Plus having two supportive brothers and a cat that somehow knows whenever he's feeling down helped. On the topic of cats, Jake was delighted to know that he could bring Viejita into work. “Will be good to get you out of the house” he mumbled to the feline, “Can’t have you growing up socially awkward like your tío Steven”, “HEY!”

Similarly to Jake, Marc was surprised to discover the job wasn’t as tedious as he’d initially predicted. The atmosphere is calm, especially for a retail job, and requires little mental thought. It’s a welcomed change, especially as his employment no longer involves something trying to kill him - though some books in the backroom have had a few good whacks at it. Since they started, Marc's gotten back into reading comics and sci-fi, he’s however, trying to keep it a secret. Khonshu forbid Steven found out he’s hypocritically spending their income on books.

There’s an unspoken rule amongst employees that if a text perks your interest you’re able to ‘skim a few pages’ to further your knowledge of company merchandise. Obviously, this only applies if you do it without altering physical integrity. All of the boys take advantage of this, finding a quiet corner in the backroom during their break, huddling up with one of the cats whilst eating lunch and immersing themselves in a new story.

Over the last 3 months, all the boys have had some interesting interactions with customers. In the first week, Steven had a lady yell at him about the price of a plastic bag - as if he had any input on the pricing. Marc and Jake were plotting murder for the full duration of the interaction.

Marc had to awkwardly ask someone for ID because they wanted to buy ‘adult’ manga whilst their mum was present. He then had to explain to the mother why an ID was required.

And just the other day, Jake had a lady come in asking for a book, only she didn’t know the title, or the author, OR the contents. Only that another bookstore in the area had in four months ago. He spent the rest of his shift questioning humanity's intelligence and pondering how we’ve managed to survive this long.

However, at the end of the day, all the questionable customer interactions are worth it because they get to see you. Your presence is now an anchor in their lives. A lighthouse guiding them out of thunderstorms and eternal seas that threaten to swallow them whole. From your enthusiasm when discussing a book, to the adorable face you make when concentrating. Every second they spend with you they become more infatuated with your being.

“We should ask them out”

“And risk them saying no then having to work with them afterwards? Absolutely not”

“We don’t know that they’ll say no, piensa positivo hermano”

“Okay, I’m positive they’ll say no”

“...That’s a lame comeback and you know it”

“I’m with Jake - not on the comeback comment, but on the fact that we don’t know how they’ll answer”

“It doesn’t need to be a date, solo cafe y pasar el rato”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Marc sighs. Of course he wants to ask you out. Both Steven and Jake know that. He’s just worried you don’t reciprocate their feelings and only see them as friends. Or that he’ll somehow fuck it up for both you and his brothers. Maybe it would be better if he retreated back into the headspace, giving Steven and Jake the freedom to be with you without the burden of his pres-

Now it's Steven's turn to interrupt Marc. “Oi, we’re not havin’ any of that. We come as a package deal, remember? Burger, chips, drink ‘n’ everything. There’s no us without you, quite literally might I add.”

“Steven tiene razón, te respaldamos. Siempre.”

A small “meow” comes from his feet, looking down he’s met with the adoring eyes of Viejita.

“See even Viejita agree’s”

Mouth twitching up as his heart swells, Marc gives in.

“Fine... Just coffee”

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Tag list: @0-ramen-0 @sunnyskyapplepie

Leave a comment or send me a message if you want to be added :)

#steven grant #jake lockley #marc spector #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight x reader #moon knight #moonknight

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holylulusworld · 8 months

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Brother’s keeper (Arc 3) - Prologue

Summary: She would do anything to protect her brother.

Pairing: Royal!Tony Stark x Princess!Reader

Warnings: mentions of marriage, feisty/bratty reader, arguments, royal au, dystopian au, enemies to ?

This series takes place in the Two kings (Arc1) & Not a queen (Arc 2) universe, at the same time. I recommend reading these stories first to understand this universe better.

You can find all arcs here: Of Kings and Queens Arcs

Brother’s keeper masterlist

“Father, I’ve got no time for this nonsense.” Tony waves his father’s concern off. “I can find a bride after we solve the problem with the satellite communications system. I’m so close. I cannot get distracted by a woman now.”

“Oh, that must be a first,” Howard retorts. He smirks as his son finally looks up from his working desk. “You love having beautiful women around you all the time, son. If you want to become the king and lead this revolution, you must choose a bride.”

“They are all so…dull,” sighing deeply Tony puts the broken device he tried to repair aside. “Pepper was nice, but she preferred marrying a man not having his head in the clouds.”

Howard furrows his brows.

“Her words, not mine, father. I thought we had something in common but all she was talking about was babies, dresses, and the latest gossip. She was, like every other woman, dull after I got to know her better.”

“You get bored easily, son. I invited a few princesses and duchesses for the next month. If you don’t choose a bride until then, one of them will become the next queen.”

“FATHER!” Tony flings a screwdriver across the room. “You cannot force me into marriage!”

“I can and will,” Howard raises his voice. “Now, focus on the device. We will need it to defeat our enemies and change this world for the better…”

“I hate this,” you mutter under your breath. Your brother forced you to join him at one of King Stark’s dinner parties.

It’s not that you do not enjoy your brother’s company, but you hate the prince with passion. He gets under your skin every time you are around him. Tony Stark is the worst man alive, you’re sure about it.

“Prince Tony,” your brother has to call for your nemesis. Of course, he couldn’t resist riling you up. “How have you been?”

“Splendid,” Tony shakes your brother’s hand while ignoring your existence. He’s always like this around you. It’s like he hates you for no reason.

“Wonderful. Maybe you can show my sister around. She’s a little shy when there are too many people around.”

“Y/B/N!” You tut. “I think Prince Tony has better things to do. Like finding a new victim to bore to death.” You smirk darkly. “Please don’t let me keep you from finding another woman to spend your night with.”

“Y/N,” your brother sighs deeply when you storm off. “Please excuse my sister. She’s a little…”

“I don’t mind,” Tony’s eyes darken watching you walk away to talk to other guests. “One day someone will tame your angry sister. I bet she’s got claws too…”

“Found you, little Colibri,” You roll your eyes when the one and only Tony Stark steps behind you. He places his hand on the small of your back, fingertips digging into your skin. “Where have you been all night?”

“I tried to avoid you, Stark,” you quip. “Why are you not charming your way into one of the ladies’ beds?”

“Nah, I rather annoy you a little,” he laughs when you shake his hand off. “Why are you so cold to me, Colibri? I’m only ever nice to you.” Tony whispers in your ear. “I could be even better to you.”

“Not if you were the last guy on earth, darling,” you sneer. Tony Stark won’t get anywhere near you if you can avoid it. “Leave me alone, Stark.”

“My father wants me to find a bride.” He stands behind you to place his hands on your hips, squeezing you lightly. “I think I found her.” Tony purrs in your ear. “You’re going to challenge me and fight me all the time. That’s exactly what I want. Someone who doesn’t bore me to death.”

“You won’t get me. Hands off,” you try to wiggle out of his grip, but Tony slings his arms around your waistline.

“I think you don’t understand how stubborn I can be,” he growls in your ear. “I want you to become my wife, and I’ll do anything to get you to say yes.”

“Over my dead body.”

“How about over your brother's dead body, huh? Did you honestly believe no one would find out he’s a second son, not the firstborn?”

Your head starts spinning and you struggle to breathe right. How can he know? No one knows about your secret. You choke out the word and fight the tears. “Bullshit.”

“No one will ever find out, though. I’ll keep it a secret, Colibri. Just say yes to me, and I’ll be the best husband you can imagine. Your brother will become king, and you a queen.”

“How do I know that you’ll keep your word?” you question. All you have in mind is to keep your brother safe. Just like you did for all his life.

“You have to trust me in this, Y/N. Say yes.” Tony presses a kiss to your neck. “Please say yes.”

A heartbeat passes, and another. “I won’t be an obedient wife or play your breeder. If you force my hand, you’ll get what you see.”

“I can live with that.”

Tony closes his eyes. He hates himself for lying to you, and pretending he would ever hurt your brother.

If he wants to keep you safe and make sure your brother won’t marry you off to someone else to become king faster, he must play the villain…

>> Part 1

Tags in reblog.

#Brother’s keeper - Prologue #tony stark #tony stark x reader #royal au #prince!Tony Stark x Princess!Reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you

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catchyhuh · 6 months

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What sort of hobbies or interests do you imagine the Gang having (outside thievery or arresting said thieves)? And do they influence the way they go about their usual antics, or are they mostly Unrelated to everything else in their lives? :0c

oohhooohoho this is a good one because i have a small handful of actual canonical hobbies/interests that come up occasionally and then i have the ones that solely exist in my mind palace. at least until tms decides to let a random little shrimp from america take the reins on their most longrunning successful franchise anyway,

lupin:

i can’t remember if i mentioned lupin loves puzzles. wait yes i did in the video game list SORRY I’M ALREADY HAVING TROUBLE REMEMBERING WHAT I HAVE AND HAVEN’T GONE OFF ABOUT but yes in canon lupin LOVES puzzles. less like, jigsaw puzzles, more like shapey puzzles. but hell man if you can get him to sit still long enough he might like a jigsaw one just to pass the time

i think he likes cooking. him, jigen and goemon all seem to really Get it. so count this under all of them, they just love yummy food and occasionally the process of making it too

he likes to draw :) somebody has to be behind all the slightly different variants of his little mascot guy. SOMEBODY has to redraw bank floor plans so they can plan out each tiny step of the heist. somebody has to scribble over his own wanted posters to put funny little devil horns on the image CMON now!!

jigen:

only jigen could be in a fucking arcade theater complex and pull out a fucking crossword puzzle. why is this dude honestly trying to speedrun being a grouchy old man before he even turns 40. i mean no hate, no hate to crossword puzzles, they are cool but i’m more of a wordsearch guy. BUT THERE’S OTHER STUFF TO DO JIGEN!! at least he’s not going for sudoku though

very random but i think he might like sewing in a passive sense. with how particular he is about his hat and really ANY clothes on his person, he probably just picked up a needle one day to fix a tear and then was like Huh. this isn't too bad actually. kinda repetitive and calming. and then the others found out and tried to get him to fix all their stuff too SO HALF PLEASANT AND HALF NOT SO PLEASANT

fujiko:

you may think i’m insane but fujiko must genuinely have some sort of fondness for computers and technology. more than she lets on at least, because. how DO you know how to fly every type of aircraft. how DO you know how to crack into almost any computer firewall? how do you know how to isolate a computer virus as it’s ALREADY corrupted HALF OF THE SYSTEM?? this goes beyond job necessity to me she must really have some hidden underlying passion for this stuff

i think it’d be cute if she took up some kinda journaling. i mean god knows she’s not writing about her FEELINGS in that little leather notebook, and she doesn’t really have the time to commit to like, scrapbook shit (even if she had the time, she’s not sentimental like that) but something simple like “this is a list of m&m variants in order of how disgusting to not disgusting they taste to me <3” with little candy stickers and gel pen hearts drawn in. the next page has a bloodstain on it and the only thing written is “dw about that lol”

goemon:

okay i KNOW i’ve pushed the Arts Enjoyer goe agenda before but i recently saw that part 3 production art again of him chilling with the pottery wheel so i must state, once again, goemon LOVES sculpting shit in all forms. chip away at some rock, throw zantetsuken at a block of wood, actually invest in some clay for fucking once, whatever he uses, he’ll make something pretty good. and even if it wasn’t good it’s still a fun hobby for him. keeps his hands loose but precise

oh my god you know what he would love. dominoes. you know when people make those like crazy long domino strings that form a pattern when they’ve all fallen. if anybody here could have the precision and strangely placed patience to do shit like that it’s definitely this guy

zenigata:

going through this list easily and eagerly typing up little funfacts about things i do know they like outside of their. “jobs” and then slowly realizing as i get to zenigata that i... cannot think of anything he. uh. does for fun. damn. he DOES talk about movies a lil bit from time to time, and knowing his mixture of a freakish eye for detail and also missing the most obvious things ever i bet hearing him talk about a movie is twice as fun as actually watching it. i would pay HUNDREDS to hear him try to explain what he thinks of space odyssey to me

it would be-- i have no reasoning for this but it would be so cute and hilarious if he did like. tiny magic tricks. you know? like card appearing out of thin air, coin behind your ear type shit. tiny stuff he figured out on his brief off time. we know lupin can do little stuff like that too but it'd just be hilarious if zenigata, completely unawarely and unintentionally for once, ended up being better than him at some inconsequential shit like making a pair of keys disappear

and i guess in light of recent discoveries they all like golf. apparently. well. no one is perfect

#i really had trouble reading over this again and being like hm. is this actually a possibility or do i just want it to be #but then i remembered its my blog and i can type what i wish!! yippee!#lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #asks

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faith--in-the-future · 1 year

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Industry people voted for Harry to win AOTY, 18,000 industry people vote for that award every year. Whether they think he’s manufactured or not is irrelevant because they’re clearly buying what he’s selling so who really cares? I’m sorry but I’m tired of the self soothing “oh but he’s manufactured and people know it” like… let’s not lie to ourselves to feel better. It’s easy to fall in the trap of thinking that karma is actually real and things will rectify themselves eventually, that we just need a little patience because surely this terrible person is falling out of favor, and people are seeing through them, and their imminent fall from grace is inevitable.

In my experience, that’s self soothing BS. Undeserving people have stepped on my back to get job positions I wanted and needed. My friends would go “oh but I bet your boss will see it if you work hard enough” or “eventually the true face of this person will show” and years go by and things don’t “fix themselves”, karma doesn’t strike, justice isn’t made.

The same thing happens in the music industry, probably ten times worse. As someone who’s been observing the industry for a while, Harry has managed to reach an echelon that very few people have reached in history. I’m talking, Justin freaking Timberlake never won AOTY. 49 artists have won that award since the Grammys were created. Of today’s musical landscape, of artists that routinely chart and are popular, the only ones to ever win it are Billie Eilish, Bruno Mars, Adele, Taylor Swift, and Harry Styles. You can add Kacey Musgraves to that list if you feel so inclined (I don’t, she’s not actually mainstream imo). That is an INSANE lineup to be a part of, and the day I found out he’d won it (the day after the Grammys because I refused to stay up just to get pissed off), was when I realized he’d won.

He just won and people are running in circles trying to come up with excuses as to why, actually, he can still lose. This is what he wanted and he got it, to a degree that I don’t even know he himself imagined (and people can spare me the discourse about his team buying Grammys because you can buy nominations but not awards, and definitely not AOTY, there’s a reason so few people have won it). Sure, we all know everything he lost in the process, but I’m willing to bet he doesn’t care and it’s all worth it for him.

There’s no degree of “the industry knows” or “fans will drop him.” The industry embraced him and he has fans in a chokehold, as much as it makes me want to break things. I let myself be fooled by the reception of his award on twitter, and then I came across a post about it on Facebook. People were outraged… that Twitter was mad. I kid you not. He pops up in my for you page on tik tok all the time no matter how many times I pick “not interested”. The amount of videos defending him and outraged about the person shouting during his acceptance speech. The amount of comments saying that Beyoncé was overrated (freaking BEYONCÉ. Overrated!!!????), that he deserved the win (!!!). The comments on YouTube and even in articles defending him. I truly truly gave up at that point. This poor excuse of a man could kick puppies as a hobby and they’d still be lodged up his ass.

bestie trust me when I tell u that I know all this 😭 I understand you probably just wanted to let your frustration out and I'm glad u did but like I 100% agree unfortunately lol I've always been the most pessimistic when it came to that man, and when I said industry people think he's manufactured I mean they probably know but also why should they care lol the entire music industry is a big manufactured mess built up by horrible men so they will support each other no matter what

and I do agree karma doesn't exist lol Good people are always pushed out by oppressive systems bc otherwise those systems wouldn't work anymore (that's why there are no good politicians and no good cops) and if we're talking about universal karma then good people always die and bad people live to their 90s rip

If u ask any of my friends here like @weareonejazzhand she can tell u I've been saying that we'll never get rid of that man now and we'll still be bombarded with his stupid biopic in 2050 and by then he'll have rewritten history completely lol

money always wins

#ask #anon

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thedurvin · 10 months

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A shitpost about the future that ran long:

I was working in the kitchen on fixing some dinner, listening to Spotify on the new model of Alexa smart-speaker. The new one had a 3D display projected right into your space, no goggles needed, and this was my first time plugging it in. I had been splurging on higher and higher tiers of Spotify membership so they’d stop playing ads at me, but with the latest system update that was no longer an option. Even so, I was shocked when the fifth song ended and I found myself face-to-face with a little old lady in a pink pantsuit. “Hi, there, I’m Betty White, speaking to you via hologram from beyond the grave to tell you about the new hamburger sandwich they have at McDonald’s,” she said. “It’s got bacon, and cheese, and a couple of other things we just know you’ll love. You can even have them leave the pickles off, since we know you don’t care for them.” “Great,” I said, unnerved but still going about my business. I was prepared for holo-ads floating above the smart-speaker, but not full-body ones standing next to me. “So, how about it?” she asked. I noticed she was staring me directly in the face. “Can you hear me?” I asked. “Sure, I’m fully interactive,” she smiled. “In my capacity as a hamburger salesperson, at least. If you want to ask me questions about my life or career, you can visit Encarta.com or IMDb.com. Would you like to do that? Affiliate links may apply.” “Uh—no thanks,” I said. “So are you asking me if I want to order a burger right now?” “I sure am!” Betty White replied cheerfully. “Your new smart-speaker’s air filters indicate you’ve over-spiced the pasta sauce again, you silly goose, and I can have one delivered by one of our new Uber-affiliate drones in just a twinkle.” “No, no thank you,” I said again. “Sorry, did the company really think this was a good idea, projecting celebrities into people’s houses to make sales pitches at them?” “Oh, absolutely, the marketing algorithms all agree it’s the way to go,” she said. “When ads were just audio, we could tell from the built-in microphones that are always on that people were always yelling at them and just being really mean. They did some research and found that they’re far less likely to get angry with their favorite inoffensive dead celebrities.” “Couldn’t you just be a head floating above the speaker?” “No, it has to be full-body, standing right next to you in real space to minimize or negate adversarial attitudes,” she said. “And it doesn’t strike you as bad that you’re having to go to this much work to ‘minimize or negate’ people’s reaction to you?” “Look, we’re doing this whether you like it or not, buster,” she said, hands on her hips, with an adorable little pouty stomp of one pink pump. “The marketing algorithms know better than consumers what will get them to buy things, and you can just like it or lump it. Now do you want the hamburger sandwich or not?” “Not really!” I said. “You know, I might have a better attitude about this if I didn’t feel like I was being emotionally manipulated. Maybe it would work better if it was somebody I didn’t mind yelling at.” “Hmm,” Betty White said. “We at Google-Meta-Amazon are always supportive of innovation; let me run this by the administrative algorithms and see. Calculating. Calculating. Okay, they said it was fine, we’ll do a trial run of a million consumers for the next twelve hours. It’ll just be a second while the marketing algorithms figure out who you’d be most willing to shout at but somehow still not turn you off from the products.” “Okay—“ “All done,” she smiled. “Enjoy! Bye-bye now!” She shimmered out of existence, replaced by a squinting Byrlcreemed man in a mustard-yellow suit. “Hiya, ACCOUNT_HOLDER_NAME, I’m Gilbert Gottfried, and you just gotta hear about this new freakin’ burger they got down at the McDonald’s—“

#my muse #my writing

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redleavesinthewind · 2 years

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📕

OKAY HI I’M GONNA TELL YOU ABOUT MY SUPERHERO AU!!!!

okay so this is probably the most complex fic i’ve ever thought of (the backstory to the actual plot is insane) but i doubt i’ll ever have the time to write it so here we go:

this isn’t a superhero in a traditional sense. they’re not actually called superhero, they just. have powers. and instead of using them to save humanity or something they just… do a hell of a lot of infighting. and they’re doing it in secret, the general population doesn’t know that people with superpowers exist

the plot: claire novak hears voices. she’s been to countless psychiatrists who have no idea what’s going on with her, but they settle on diagnosing her with schizophrenia because her father (who disappeared when she was a kid) was also diagnosed with schizophrenia. abandoned by her mother, she lands in the foster care system. shortly before she turns 18, she’s contacted by a man named zachariah adler, who tells her he has a job for her, but doesn’t elaborate. the same day, a strange woman hands her a train ticket and tells her to never, under any circumstances, trust the Angels. claire is confused, but climbs into the train anyway. she arrives at a school and very quickly figures out that it’s not a normal school. it’s full of kids with superpowers, and surprise surprise, the voices claire has been hearing are snippets of communication (phone calls, emails, letters, texts, etc) that she picked up from around her. and if she trains her powers she can listen in on anything. not only does she have powers, she is one of the most powerful among all of them. she also learns that the school is more like a safe house for the kids cause there’s a secret war between three different factions going on, and claire has almost been recruited into one of them (the angels). the other factions are the demons and the resistance. while the angels and the demons are trying to get control over all powered people (and love to fight each other) the resistance, founded by samuel campbell, just wants some goddamn peace. while the school is supposed to be neutral ground, most of the teachers are part of the resistance

now about the teachers, they’re a mix of people born with powers (donna, charlie, bess, bobby), people that got powers because the angels and demons decided to do some experimenting (sam, garth, cas), non-powered people that had run-ins/ family that’s powered (dean, jody, eileen, ellen) and the principal is rowena, who seems needlessly overpowered and no one actually knows anything about her past

now claire tries to find her home in this school, but it’s a bit tricky cause one of the teachers looks exactly like her dad. but he’s not her dad. he talks differently, moves differently, doesn’t remember claire at all, and has lived all his life in the angel laboratories before he was rescued. HOWEVER he has the same powers as claire. which confuses everyone cause powers are inherited.

before they can look into it more, one of the kids and claire’s new friend emma is kidnapped by the angels. which also confuses everyone because usually the angels want people with extraordinary powers and while emma is super strong cause of her mother, there’s nothing else to her powers cause dean doesn’t have any (or does he???) anyway dean wants to go save his daughter, but rowena won’t let him leave for reasons she doesn’t disclose, so claire, alex and patience sneak out and save emma themselves. that’s as far as the plot goes in my head

oh also dean and cas are together in this. obviously.

if anyone wants to know more about this, any specific character (basically everyone is in this btw), the backstory of how the powers even started, the conflict, what rowena’s deal is, anything really, ask away. while i haven’t written a word of the actual plot, i have 7k words worth of backstory and character profiles

#shit now i wanna write on this. I DON’T HAVE TIME #spn #elliot answers #hi bloody!#elliot’s aus #the gifted

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cyberpunkpizzaman · 1 year

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Returning to Oblivion

I’ve probably spent more time telling stories about Oblivion than I have actually playing the game. That time I randomly found Dark Brotherhood robes in someone’s basement during a burglary. That time my English teacher spent a good portion of class talking about how cool the vampire questline was. The mess that was horse armor DLC.*

I never even came close to beating the game when I first bought it on Xbox 360. I’d launch it every now and again, sneak around, do some stealing, do some assassinations, and close it down. After I swapped over to PC I ended up buying it in a Steam sale and going all in on mods… racking up maybe 10 hours in the process and never getting past Kvatch (the first phase of the main quest).

I recently came back to the game, and oh man. It’s still so beautiful. And so much of what it does is so very interesting.

Sometimes a game pioneers a new system or a technological innovation that becomes key to the entire experience. It doesn’t always have to the mechanical focal point of the game; I’m talking less about Shadow of Mordor’s Nemesis System than I am about Half-Life 2’s physics engine. It’s not the focal point of the game’s core loop, but it’s a key part of the experience and the game’s designers clearly wanted to show off everything it can do.**

For Oblivion, that system is Radiant AI.

Here’s a recent article from the escapist talking about the system in far more detail than I’m planning to here, digging into the development history and some of the insanity that resulted from the original draft build. On a basic level, the system establishes a set of time and need-based routines for every NPC in the game. Around 7pm, you’ll find most of a town’s residents in the inn, socializing and eating. During working hours, they’ll be manning their shops or wandering the streets chatting with ‘friends’.

What I didn’t realize until now is just how many of the game’s quests are designed to center this system. In the last few hours of playing I’ve had quests say:

“Come back and talk to this person when their boss isn’t around.”

“Follow this merchant after he closes up shop to see where he goes.”

“Search this man’s house when he’s not home.”

“You can find the guard captain in the barracks after dark or patrolling the streets during the day.”

So much of the game is designed to show off the Radiant AI system, emphasizing NPC routines and using that structure to enable interesting interactions. It’s honestly super cool and there aren’t many RPGs in 2022 that leverage systems quite like this one.***

And Skyrim’s Solitude looks like a village compared to Oblivion’s Imperial City.

If you want to finance Todd Howard’s next Skyrim release, all links above head to the Humble Bundle store (and I get a small portion of any purchase you make using them).

* I’m weirdly nostalgic for that controversy in today’s age of micro-transactions and skins…

** I think you could argue the point with Half-Life 2; I’ve heard the argument somewhere that the game existed in large part as a tech demo for the Source Engine.

*** Roguelikes are, of course, another matter. Streets of Rogue and RimWorld come to mind on the crazier end of the spectrum.

#oblivion #skyrim #elder scrolls #gaming #game design #open world #jack-wrote

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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The Green Knight and Medieval Metatextuality: An Essay

Right, so. Finally watched it last night, and I’ve been thinking about it literally ever since, except for the part where I was asleep. As I said to fellow medievalist and admirer of Dev Patel @oldshrewsburyian, it’s possibly the most fascinating piece of medieval-inspired media that I’ve seen in ages, and how refreshing to have something in this genre that actually rewards critical thought and deep analysis, rather than me just fulminating fruitlessly about how popular media thinks that slapping blood, filth, and misogyny onto some swords and castles is “historically accurate.” I read a review of TGK somewhere that described it as the anti-Game of Thrones, and I’m inclined to think that’s accurate. I didn’t agree with all of the film’s tonal, thematic, or interpretative choices, but I found them consistently stylish, compelling, and subversive in ways both small and large, and I’m gonna have to write about it or I’ll go crazy. So. Brace yourselves.

(Note: My PhD is in medieval history, not medieval literature, and I haven’t worked on SGGK specifically, but I am familiar with it, its general cultural context, and the historical influences, images, and debates that both the poem and the film referenced and drew upon, so that’s where this meta is coming from.)

First, obviously, while the film is not a straight-up text-to-screen version of the poem (though it is by and large relatively faithful), it is a multi-layered meta-text that comments on the original Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the archetypes of chivalric literature as a whole, modern expectations for medieval films, the hero’s journey, the requirements of being an “honorable knight,” and the nature of death, fate, magic, and religion, just to name a few. Given that the Arthurian legendarium, otherwise known as the Matter of Britain, was written and rewritten over several centuries by countless authors, drawing on and changing and hybridizing interpretations that sometimes challenged or outright contradicted earlier versions, it makes sense for the film to chart its own path and make its own adaptational decisions as part of this multivalent, multivocal literary canon. Sir Gawain himself is a canonically and textually inconsistent figure; in the movie, the characters merrily pronounce his name in several different ways, most notably as Sean Harris/King Arthur’s somewhat inexplicable “Garr-win.” He might be a man without a consistent identity, but that’s pointed out within the film itself. What has he done to define himself, aside from being the king’s nephew? Is his quixotic quest for the Green Knight actually going to resolve the question of his identity and his honor – and if so, is it even going to matter, given that successful completion of the “game” seemingly equates with death?

Likewise, as the anti-Game of Thrones, the film is deliberately and sometimes maddeningly non-commercial. For an adaptation coming from a studio known primarily for horror, it almost completely eschews the cliché that gory bloodshed equals authentic medievalism; the only graphic scene is the Green Knight’s original beheading. The violence is only hinted at, subtextual, suspenseful; it is kept out of sight, around the corner, never entirely played out or resolved. In other words, if anyone came in thinking that they were going to watch Dev Patel luridly swashbuckle his way through some CGI monsters like bad Beowulf adaptations of yore, they were swiftly disappointed. In fact, he seems to spend most of his time being wet, sad, and failing to meet the moment at hand (with a few important exceptions).

The film unhurriedly evokes a medieval setting that is both surreal and defiantly non-historical. We travel (in roughly chronological order) from Anglo-Saxon huts to Romanesque halls to high-Gothic cathedrals to Tudor villages and half-timbered houses, culminating in the eerie neo-Renaissance splendor of the Lord and Lady’s hall, before returning to the ancient trees of the Green Chapel and its immortal occupant: everything that has come before has now returned to dust. We have been removed even from imagined time and place and into a moment where it ceases to function altogether. We move forward, backward, and sideways, as Gawain experiences past, present, and future in unison. He is dislocated from his own sense of himself, just as we, the viewers, are dislocated from our sense of what is the “true” reality or filmic narrative; what we think is real turns out not to be the case at all. If, of course, such a thing even exists at all.

This visual evocation of the entire medieval era also creates a setting that, unlike GOT, takes pride in rejecting absolutely all political context or Machiavellian maneuvering. The film acknowledges its own cultural ubiquity and the question of whether we really need yet another King Arthur adaptation: none of the characters aside from Gawain himself are credited by name. We all know it’s Arthur, but he’s listed only as “king.” We know the spooky druid-like old man with the white beard is Merlin, but it’s never required to spell it out. The film gestures at our pre-existing understanding; it relies on us to fill in the gaps, cuing us to collaboratively produce the story with it, positioning us as listeners as if we were gathered to hear the original poem. Just like fanfiction, it knows that it doesn’t need to waste time introducing every single character or filling in ultimately unnecessary background knowledge, when the audience can be relied upon to bring their own.

As for that, the film explicitly frames itself as a “filmed adaptation of the chivalric romance” in its opening credits, and continues to play with textual referents and cues throughout: telling us where we are, what’s happening, or what’s coming next, rather like the rubrics or headings within a medieval manuscript. As noted, its historical/architectural references span the entire medieval European world, as does its costume design. I was particularly struck by the fact that Arthur and Guinevere’s crowns resemble those from illuminated monastic manuscripts or Eastern Orthodox iconography: they are both crown and halo, they confer an air of both secular kingship and religious sanctity. The question in the film’s imagined epilogue thus becomes one familiar to Shakespeare’s Henry V: heavy is the head that wears the crown. Does Gawain want to earn his uncle’s crown, take over his place as king, bear the fate of Camelot, become a great ruler, a husband and father in ways that even Arthur never did, only to see it all brought to dust by his cowardice, his reliance on unscrupulous sorcery, and his unfulfilled promise to the Green Knight? Is it better to have that entire life and then lose it, or to make the right choice now, even if it means death?

Likewise, Arthur’s kingly mantle is Byzantine in inspiration, as is the icon of the Virgin Mary-as-Theotokos painted on Gawain’s shield (which we see broken apart during the attack by the scavengers). The film only glances at its religious themes rather than harping on them explicitly; we do have the cliché scene of the male churchmen praying for Gawain’s safety, opposite Gawain’s mother and her female attendants working witchcraft to protect him. (When oh when will I get my film that treats medieval magic and medieval religion as the complementary and co-existing epistemological systems that they were, rather than portraying them as diametrically binary and disparagingly gendered opposites?) But despite the interim setbacks borne from the failure of Christian icons, the overall resolution of the film could serve as the culmination of a medieval Christian morality tale: Gawain can buy himself a great future in the short term if he relies on the protection of the enchanted green belt to avoid the Green Knight’s killing stroke, but then he will have to watch it all crumble until he is sitting alone in his own hall, his children dead and his kingdom destroyed, as a headless corpse who only now has been brave enough to accept his proper fate. By removing the belt from his person in the film’s Inception-like final scene, he relinquishes the taint of black magic and regains his religious honor, even at the likely cost of death. That, the medieval Christian morality tale would agree, is the correct course of action.

Gawain’s encounter with St. Winifred likewise presents a more subtle vision of medieval Christianity. Winifred was an eighth-century Welsh saint known for being beheaded, after which (by the power of another saint) her head was miraculously restored to her body and she went on to live a long and holy life. It doesn’t quite work that way in TGK. (St Winifred’s Well is mentioned in the original SGGK, but as far as I recall, Gawain doesn’t meet the saint in person.) In the film, Gawain encounters Winifred’s lifelike apparition, who begs him to dive into the mere and retrieve her head (despite appearances, she warns him, it is not attached to her body). This fits into the pattern of medieval ghost stories, where the dead often return to entreat the living to help them finish their business; they must be heeded, but when they are encountered in places they shouldn’t be, they must be put back into their proper physical space and reminded of their real fate. Gawain doesn’t follow William of Newburgh’s practical recommendation to just fetch some brawny young men with shovels to beat the wandering corpse back into its grave. Instead, in one of his few moments of unqualified heroism, he dives into the dark water and retrieves Winifred’s skull from the bottom of the lake. Then when he returns to the house, he finds the rest of her skeleton lying in the bed where he was earlier sleeping, and carefully reunites the skull with its body, finally allowing it to rest in peace.

However, Gawain’s involvement with Winifred doesn’t end there. The fox that he sees on the bank after emerging with her skull, who then accompanies him for the rest of the film, is strongly implied to be her spirit, or at least a companion that she has sent for him. Gawain has handled a saint’s holy bones; her relics, which were well known to grant protection in the medieval world. He has done the saint a service, and in return, she extends her favor to him. At the end of the film, the fox finally speaks in a human voice, warning him not to proceed to the fateful final encounter with the Green Knight; it will mean his death. The symbolism of having a beheaded saint serve as Gawain’s guide and protector is obvious, since it is the fate that may or may not lie in store for him. As I said, the ending is Inception-like in that it steadfastly refuses to tell you if the hero is alive (or will live) or dead (or will die). In the original SGGK, of course, the Green Knight and the Lord turn out to be the same person, Gawain survives, it was all just a test of chivalric will and honor, and a trap put together by Morgan Le Fay in an attempt to frighten Guinevere. It’s essentially able to be laughed off: a game, an adventure, not real. TGK takes this paradigm and flips it (to speak…) on its head.

Gawain’s rescue of Winifred’s head also rewards him in more immediate terms: his/the Green Knight’s axe, stolen by the scavengers, is miraculously restored to him in her cottage, immediately and concretely demonstrating the virtue of his actions. This is one of the points where the film most stubbornly resists modern storytelling conventions: it simply refuses to add in any kind of “rational” or “empirical” explanation of how else it got there, aside from the grace and intercession of the saint. This is indeed how it works in medieval hagiography: things simply reappear, are returned, reattached, repaired, made whole again, and Gawain’s lost weapon is thus restored, symbolizing that he has passed the test and is worthy to continue with the quest. The film’s narrative is not modernizing its underlying medieval logic here, and it doesn’t particularly care if a modern audience finds it “convincing” or not. As noted, the film never makes any attempt to temporalize or localize itself; it exists in a determinedly surrealist and ahistorical landscape, where naked female giants who look suspiciously like Tilda Swinton roam across the wild with no necessary explanation. While this might be frustrating for some people, I actually found it a huge relief that a clearly fantastic and fictional literary adaptation was not acting like it was qualified to teach “real history” to its audience. Nobody would come out of TGK thinking that they had seen the “actual” medieval world, and since we have enough of a problem with that sort of thing thanks to GOT, I for one welcome the creation of a medieval imaginative space that embraces its eccentric and unrealistic elements, rather than trying to fit them into the Real Life box.

This plays into the fact that the film, like a reused medieval manuscript containing more than one text, is a palimpsest: for one, it audaciously rewrites the entire Arthurian canon in the wordless vision of Gawain’s life after escaping the Green Knight (I could write another meta on that dream-epilogue alone). It moves fluidly through time and creates alternate universes in at least two major points: one, the scene where Gawain is tied up and abandoned by the scavengers and that long circling shot reveals his skeletal corpse rotting on the sward, only to return to our original universe as Gawain decides that he doesn’t want that fate, and two, Gawain as King. In this alternate ending, Arthur doesn’t die in battle with Mordred, but peaceably in bed, having anointed his worthy nephew as his heir. Gawain becomes king, has children, gets married, governs Camelot, becomes a ruler surpassing even Arthur, but then watches his son get killed in battle, his subjects turn on him, and his family vanish into the dust of his broken hall before he himself, in despair, pulls the enchanted scarf out of his clothing and succumbs to his fate.

In this version, Gawain takes on the responsibility for the fall of Camelot, not Arthur. This is the hero’s burden, but he’s obtained it dishonorably, by cheating. It is a vivid but mimetic future which Gawain (to all appearances) ultimately rejects, returning the film to the realm of traditional Arthurian canon – but not quite. After all, if Gawain does get beheaded after that final fade to black, it would represent a significant alteration from the poem and the character’s usual arc. Are we back in traditional canon or aren’t we? Did Gawain reject that future or didn’t he? Do all these alterities still exist within the visual medium of the meta-text, and have any of them been definitely foreclosed?

Furthermore, the film interrogates itself and its own tropes in explicit and overt ways. In Gawain’s conversation with the Lord, the Lord poses the question that many members of the audience might have: is Gawain going to carry out this potentially pointless and suicidal quest and then be an honorable hero, just like that? What is he actually getting by staggering through assorted Irish bogs and seeming to reject, rather than embrace, the paradigms of a proper quest and that of an honorable knight? He lies about being a knight to the scavengers, clearly out of fear, and ends up cravenly bound and robbed rather than fighting back. He denies knowing anything about love to the Lady (played by Alicia Vikander, who also plays his lover at the start of the film with a decidedly ropey Yorkshire accent, sorry to say). He seems to shrink from the responsibility thrust on him, rather than rise to meet it (his only honorable act, retrieving Winifred’s head, is discussed above) and yet here he still is, plugging away. Why is he doing this? What does he really stand to gain, other than accepting a choice and its consequences (somewhat?) The film raises these questions, but it has no plans to answer them. It’s going to leave you to think about them for yourself, and it isn’t going to spoon-feed you any ultimate moral or neat resolution. In this interchange, it’s easy to see both the echoes of a formal dialogue between two speakers (a favored medieval didactic tactic) and the broader purpose of chivalric literature: to interrogate what it actually means to be a knight, how personal honor is generated, acquired, and increased, and whether engaging in these pointless and bloody “war games” is actually any kind of real path to lasting glory.

The film’s treatment of race, gender, and queerness obviously also merits comment. By casting Dev Patel, an Indian-born actor, as an Arthurian hero, the film is… actually being quite accurate to the original legends, doubtless much to the disappointment of assorted internet racists. The thirteenth-century Arthurian romance Parzival (Percival) by the German poet Wolfram von Eschenbach notably features the character of Percival’s mixed-race half-brother, Feirefiz, son of their father by his first marriage to a Muslim princess. Feirefiz is just as heroic as Percival (Gawaine, for the record, also plays a major role in the story) and assists in the quest for the Holy Grail, though it takes his conversion to Christianity for him to properly behold it.

By introducing Patel (and Sarita Chowdhury as Morgause) to the visual representation of Arthuriana, the film quietly does away with the “white Middle Ages” cliché that I have complained about ad nauseam; we see background Asian and black members of Camelot, who just exist there without having to conjure up some complicated rationale to explain their presence. The Lady also uses a camera obscura to make Gawain’s portrait. Contrary to those who might howl about anachronism, this technique was known in China as early as the fourth century BCE and the tenth/eleventh century Islamic scholar Ibn al-Haytham was probably the best-known medieval authority to write on it extensively; Latin translations of his work inspired European scientists from Roger Bacon to Leonardo da Vinci. Aside from the symbolism of an upside-down Gawain (and when he sees the portrait again during the ‘fall of Camelot’, it is right-side-up, representing that Gawain himself is in an upside-down world), this presents a subtle challenge to the prevailing Eurocentric imagination of the medieval world, and draws on other global influences.

As for gender, we have briefly touched on it above; in the original SGGK, Gawain’s entire journey is revealed to be just a cruel trick of Morgan Le Fay, simply trying to destabilize Arthur’s court and upset his queen. (Morgan is the old blindfolded woman who appears in the Lord and Lady’s castle and briefly approaches Gawain, but her identity is never explicitly spelled out.) This is, obviously, an implicitly misogynistic setup: an evil woman plays a trick on honorable men for the purpose of upsetting another woman, the honorable men overcome it, the hero survives, and everyone presumably lives happily ever after (at least until Mordred arrives).

Instead, by plunging the outcome into doubt and the hero into a much darker and more fallible moral universe, TGK shifts the blame for Gawain’s adventure and ultimate fate from Morgan to Gawain himself. Likewise, Guinevere is not the passive recipient of an evil deception but in a way, the catalyst for the whole thing. She breaks the seal on the Green Knight’s message with a weighty snap; she becomes the oracle who reads it out, she is alarming rather than alarmed, she disrupts the complacency of the court and silently shows up all the other knights who refuse to step forward and answer the Green Knight’s challenge. Gawain is not given the ontological reassurance that it’s just a practical joke and he’s going to be fine (and thanks to the unresolved ending, neither are we). The film instead takes the concept at face value in order to push the envelope and ask the simple question: if a man was going to be actually-for-real beheaded in a year, why would he set out on a suicidal quest? Would you, in Gawain’s place, make the same decision to cast aside the enchanted belt and accept your fate? Has he made his name, will he be remembered well? What is his legacy?

Indeed, if there is any hint of feminine connivance and manipulation, it arrives in the form of the implication that Gawain’s mother has deliberately summoned the Green Knight to test her son, prove his worth, and position him as his childless uncle’s heir; she gives him the protective belt to make sure he won’t actually die, and her intention all along was for the future shown in the epilogue to truly play out (minus the collapse of Camelot). Only Gawain loses the belt thanks to his cowardice in the encounter with the scavengers, regains it in a somewhat underhanded and morally questionable way when the Lady is attempting to seduce him, and by ultimately rejecting it altogether and submitting to his uncertain fate, totally mucks up his mother’s painstaking dynastic plans for his future. In this reading, Gawain could be king, and his mother’s efforts are meant to achieve that goal, rather than thwart it. He is thus required to shoulder his own responsibility for this outcome, rather than conveniently pawning it off on an “evil woman,” and by extension, the film asks the question: What would the world be like if men, especially those who make war on others as a way of life, were actually forced to face the consequences of their reckless and violent actions? Is it actually a “game” in any sense of the word, especially when chivalric literature is constantly preoccupied with the question of how much glorious violence is too much glorious violence? If you structure social prestige for the king and the noble male elite entirely around winning battles and existing in a state of perpetual war, when does that begin to backfire and devour the knightly class – and the rest of society – instead?

This leads into the central theme of Gawain’s relationships with the Lord and Lady, and how they’re treated in the film. The poem has been repeatedly studied in terms of its latent (and sometimes… less than latent) queer subtext: when the Lord asks Gawain to pay back to him whatever he should receive from his wife, does he already know what this involves; i.e. a physical and romantic encounter? When the Lady gives kisses to Gawain, which he is then obliged to return to the Lord as a condition of the agreement, is this all part of a dastardly plot to seduce him into a kinky green-themed threesome with a probably-not-human married couple looking to spice up their sex life? Why do we read the Lady’s kisses to Gawain as romantic but Gawain’s kisses to the Lord as filial, fraternal, or the standard “kiss of peace” exchanged between a liege lord and his vassal? Is Gawain simply being a dutiful guest by honoring the bargain with his host, actually just kissing the Lady again via the proxy of her husband, or somewhat more into this whole thing with the Lord than he (or the poet) would like to admit? Is the homosocial turning homoerotic, and how is Gawain going to navigate this tension and temptation?

If the question is never resolved: well, welcome to one of the central medieval anxieties about chivalry, knighthood, and male bonds! As I have written about before, medieval society needed to simultaneously exalt this as the most honored and noble form of love, and make sure it didn’t accidentally turn sexual (once again: how much male love is too much male love?). Does the poem raise the possibility of serious disruption to the dominant heteronormative paradigm, only to solve the problem by interpreting the Gawain/Lady male/female kisses as romantic and sexual and the Gawain/Lord male/male kisses as chaste and formal? In other words, acknowledging the underlying anxiety of possible homoeroticism but ultimately reasserting the heterosexual norm? The answer: Probably?!?! Maybe?!?! Hell if we know??! To say the least, this has been argued over to no end, and if you locked a lot of medieval history/literature scholars into a room and told them that they couldn’t come out until they decided on one clear answer, they would be in there for a very long time. The poem seemingly invokes the possibility of a queer reading only to reject it – but once again, as in the question of which canon we end up in at the film’s end, does it?

In some lights, the film’s treatment of this potential queer reading comes off like a cop-out: there is only one kiss between Gawain and the Lord, and it is something that the Lord has to initiate after Gawain has already fled the hall. Gawain himself appears to reject it; he tells the Lord to let go of him and runs off into the wilderness, rather than deal with or accept whatever has been suggested to him. However, this fits with film!Gawain’s pattern of rejecting that which fundamentally makes him who he is; like Peter in the Bible, he has now denied the truth three times. With the scavengers he denies being a knight; with the Lady he denies knowing about courtly love; with the Lord he denies the central bond of brotherhood with his fellows, whether homosocial or homoerotic in nature. I would go so far as to argue that if Gawain does die at the end of the film, it is this rejected kiss which truly seals his fate. In the poem, the Lord and the Green Knight are revealed to be the same person; in the film, it’s not clear if that’s the case, or they are separate characters, even if thematically interrelated. If we assume, however, that the Lord is in fact still the human form of the Green Knight, then Gawain has rejected both his kiss of peace (the standard gesture of protection offered from lord to vassal) and any deeper emotional bond that it can be read to signify. The Green Knight could decide to spare Gawain in recognition of the courage he has shown in relinquishing the enchanted belt – or he could just as easily decide to kill him, which he is legally free to do since Gawain has symbolically rejected the offer of brotherhood, vassalage, or knight-bonding by his unwise denial of the Lord’s freely given kiss. Once again, the film raises the overall thematic and moral question and then doesn’t give one straight (ahem) answer. As with the medieval anxieties and chivalric texts that it is based on, it invokes the specter of queerness and then doesn’t neatly resolve it. As a modern audience, we find this unsatisfying, but once again, the film is refusing to conform to our expectations.

As has been said before, there is so much kissing between men in medieval contexts, both ceremonial and otherwise, that we’re left to wonder: “is it gay or is it feudalism?” Is there an overtly erotic element in Gawain and the Green Knight’s mutual “beheading” of each other (especially since in the original version, this frees the Lord from his curse, functioning like a true love’s kiss in a fairytale). While it is certainly possible to argue that the film has “straightwashed” its subject material by removing the entire sequence of kisses between Gawain and the Lord and the unresolved motives for their existence, it is a fairly accurate, if condensed, representation of the anxieties around medieval knightly bonds and whether, as Carolyn Dinshaw put it, a (male/male) “kiss is just a kiss.” After all, the kiss between Gawain and the Lady is uncomplicatedly read as sexual/romantic, and that context doesn’t go away when Gawain is kissing the Lord instead. Just as with its multiple futurities, the film leaves the question open-ended. Is it that third and final denial that seals Gawain’s fate, and if so, is it asking us to reflect on why, specifically, he does so?

The film could play with both this question and its overall tone quite a bit more: it sometimes comes off as a grim, wooden, over-directed Shakespearean tragedy, rather than incorporating the lively and irreverent tone that the poem often takes. It’s almost totally devoid of humor, which is unfortunate, and the Grim Middle Ages aesthetic is in definite evidence. Nonetheless, because of the comprehensive de-historicizing and the obvious lack of effort to claim the film as any sort of authentic representation of the medieval past, it works. We are not meant to understand this as a historical document, and so we have to treat it on its terms, by its own logic, and by its own frames of reference. In some ways, its consistent opacity and its refusal to abide by modern rules and common narrative conventions is deliberately meant to challenge us: as before, when we recognize Arthur, Merlin, the Round Table, and the other stock characters because we know them already and not because the film tells us so, we have to fill in the gaps ourselves. We are watching the film not because it tells us a simple adventure story – there is, as noted, shockingly little action overall – but because we have to piece together the metatext independently and ponder the philosophical questions that it leaves us with. What conclusion do we reach? What canon do we settle in? What future or resolution is ultimately made real? That, the film says, it can’t decide for us. As ever, it is up to future generations to carry on the story, and decide how, if at all, it is going to survive.

(And to close, I desperately want them to make my much-coveted Bisclavret adaptation now in more or less the same style, albeit with some tweaks. Please.)

Further Reading

Ailes, Marianne J. ‘The Medieval Male Couple and the Language of Homosociality’, in Masculinity in Medieval Europe, ed. by Dawn M. Hadley (Harlow: Longman, 1999), pp. 214–37.

Ashton, Gail. ‘The Perverse Dynamics of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 15 (2005), 51–74.

Boyd, David L. ‘Sodomy, Misogyny, and Displacement: Occluding Queer Desire in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Arthuriana 8 (1998), 77–113.

Busse, Peter. ‘The Poet as Spouse of his Patron: Homoerotic Love in Medieval Welsh and Irish Poetry?’, Studi Celtici 2 (2003), 175–92.

Dinshaw, Carolyn. ‘A Kiss Is Just a Kiss: Heterosexuality and Its Consolations in Sir Gawain and the Green Knight’, Diacritics 24 (1994), 205–226.

Kocher, Suzanne. ‘Gay Knights in Medieval French Fiction: Constructs of Queerness and Non-Transgression’, Mediaevalia 29 (2008), 51–66.

Karras, Ruth Mazo. ‘Knighthood, Compulsory Heterosexuality, and Sodomy’ in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 273–86.

Kuefler, Matthew. ‘Male Friendship and the Suspicion of Sodomy in Twelfth-Century France’, in The Boswell Thesis: Essays on Christianity, Social Tolerance, and Homosexuality, ed. Matthew Kuefler (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2006), pp. 179–214.

McVitty, E. Amanda, ‘False Knights and True Men: Contesting Chivalric Masculinity in English Treason Trials, 1388–1415,’ Journal of Medieval History 40 (2014), 458–77.

Mieszkowski, Gretchen. ‘The Prose Lancelot's Galehot, Malory's Lavain, and the Queering of Late Medieval Literature’, Arthuriana 5 (1995), 21–51.

Moss, Rachel E. ‘ “And much more I am soryat for my good knyghts’ ”: Fainting, Homosociality, and Elite Male Culture in Middle English Romance’, Historical Reflections / Réflexions historiques 42 (2016), 101–13.

Zeikowitz, Richard E. ‘Befriending the Medieval Queer: A Pedagogy for Literature Classes’, College English 65 (2002), 67–80.

#the green knight #the green knight meta #sir gawain and the green knight #medieval literature #medieval history #this meta is goddamn 5.2k words #and has its own reading list #i uh #said i had a lot of thoughts?

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bananonbinary · 3 years

Text

Time for a Salty Meta Post about Martin!

people who’ve followed this blog for a bit know that spending six hours combing through text for some goddamn sources is my specialty, so i compiled every time jon ever talked about martin’s work in season 1. which for the record, he stopped complaining about all the way back in episode 26, where he was angry that martin of all people got hurt.

things jon gets mad at martin for:

not being able to find records that don’t exist

not being able to find someone based only on a first name

the Dog

not wearing trousers in his off-hours

being the one that got caught up in the jane prentiss thing

mag 004 and mag 012 both have jon taking potshots at martin over research that was proven accurate by outside sources

things jon has never once complained about:

martin not understanding the filing system and just putting stuff away at random

martin being clumsy, constantly ruining things, spilling tea everywhere everyday, etc

martin turning in incompetent, poorly-edited, or badly formatted reports

martin not understanding the terminology used, skills expected, etc., and generally being extremely new to the field

please for the love of god stop making martin the silly bumbling idiot who can’t do anything right just because he doesn’t have a formal education. there’s zero evidence for it in the text, and it’s really weird to act like a 4 year degree would outweigh the *10 years* of job experience he has, not just in academia, but in the institute itself by season one. my boy has worked there longer than ANY of the rest of the main cast. screw you guys.

tl;dr: martin is never once shown to be bad at his job, jon pretty much only ever gets mad at him for the really stupid first impression and also not finding stuff that no one else was able to find either. after martin got hurt, jon talks about his research basically the same way he talks about tim’s or sasha’s work.

fucking proof under the cut:

(i didnt include the s1 finale or martin’s statement bc that’s just...two entire episodes of them talking to each other, but there isn’t really any notable Martin Complaints in either of them imo)

I swear, if he’s brought another dog in here, I’m going to peel him.

[pre-launch trailer]

Well, technically three, but I don’t count Martin as he’s unlikely to contribute anything but delays.

[...] Alongside this Tim, Sasha and, yes, I suppose, Martin will be doing some supplementary investigation to see what details may be missing from what we have.

[MAG001 Anglerfish]

Martin couldn’t find any records of Ex Altiora as a title in existent catalogues of esoteric or similar literature, so I assigned Sasha to double-check. Still nothing.

[MAG004 Pageturner]

I had Martin conduct a follow-up interview with Mr. Woodward last week, but it was unenlightening. Apparently there have been no further bags at number 93 and in the intervening years he has largely discounted many of the stranger aspects of his experience. I wasn’t expecting much, as time generally makes people inclined to forget what they would rather not believe, but at least it got Martin out of the Institute for an afternoon, which is always a welcome relief.

[MAG005 Thrown Away]

Martin was unable to find the exact date the original house was built but the earliest records he could find list it as being bought by Walter Fielding in 1891.

[...]

We cannot prove any connection, but Martin unearthed a report on an Agnes Montague, who was found dead in her Sheffield flat on the evening of November 23rd 2006, the same day Mr. Lensik claims to have uprooted the tree.

[MAG008 Burned Out]

According to Martin, who was here when they took this statement, it was at this point in writing that Mr. Herbert announced he needed some sleep before continuing. He was shown to the break room where he went to sleep on the couch. He did not awaken; unfortunately succumbing to the lung cancer right there. Martin says the staff had been aware of how serious Mr. Herbert’s condition was, and had advised him to seek medical aid prior to giving his statement, but were told rather bluntly by the old man that he would not wait another second to state his case. I can’t decide whether this lends more or less credibility to his tale.

[MAG010 Vampire Killer]

“Veepalach” might also be a mishearing of the Polish word “wypalać”, according to Martin, which means to cauterize or brand. Admittedly, if Martin speaks Polish in the same way he “speaks Latin,” then he might be talking nonsense again, but I’ve looked it up and it appears to check out.

[MAG012 First Aid]

I sent Martin to look into this ‘Angela’ character - not that I want him to get chopped up, of course, but someone had to. Apparently, he spent three days looking into every woman named Angela in Bexley over the age of 50. He could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.

[MAG014 Piecemeal]

Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s “a bit claustrophobic”

[MAG015 Lost John’s Cave]

There simply aren’t enough details given in this statement to actually investigate, short of Martin confirming that Mr. Vittery did indeed live at the addresses he provided.

[MAG016 Arachnophobia]

Oh, he’s off sick this week. Stomach problems, I think.

Blessed relief if you ask me.

[...]

I asked Martin to try and hunt down Mr. Adekoya himself for a follow-up, but have been informed that he passed away in 2006.

[MAG017 The Boneturner’s Tale]

MARTIN

Well, I need to tell someone what happened, and you can vouch for the soundness of my mind, can’t you?

ARCHIVIST

…

That is beside the point.

[MAG022 Colony]

Martin! Good lord man, if you’re going to be staying in the Archives, at least have the decency to put some trousers on!

[MAG023 Schwartzwald]

Martin found one other thing while combing through police reports for the Hither Green area. About a month after this statement was given, on May 15th, 2015, police were called out to once again investigate the chapel.

[MAG025 Growing Dark]

I know, but it would have to have been Martin, wouldn’t it? I mean, anything goes wrong around here, it always seems to happen to him. Anyway, we’re getting off topic. Why didn’t you report this?

[MAG026 A Distortion]

Martin made contact with the son, Marcus McKenzie, but he declined to talk to us, saying that he’d “already made his statement.”

[MAG027 A Sturdy Lock]

Tim and Martin had a bit more luck investigating Tom Haan, though only really enough to confirm that he seems to have completely vanished following his departure from Aver Meats on the 12th of July.

[MAG030 Killing Floor]

Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books

[...]

TIM

Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it?

ARCHIVIST

No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

[MAG036 Taken Ill]

#the magnus archives #LISTEN #i am once again asking people to remember that martin has MORE job experience at the institute than literally any other character #(except elias or i guess maybe rosie)#he's the goddamn veteran not the newbie #fan wank /

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youreyeslookliketheocean · 3 years

Text

youreyeslookliketheocean’s DSMP Fic Recs!!

Figured it was about time for one of these... :)

Mostly SBI-centric because they’re my favorite dynamic. I’ll probably add to this list as time goes on, and I also want to go back through my ao3 history and find some lesser-known fics I really enjoyed to rec them all. But for now...

* oneshot ** unfinished work

** the lights go out (my heart goes still) by curseworm

With his old home unwelcoming and his new one gone, Tommy is alone. After hours of staggering through the freezing snow, he finds a cabin.

Technoblade’s cabin.

He hides himself away in the deepest corner he can find, taking only what he needs to survive, wasting away in the cold and the dark. He’s petrified at the thought of being found out, terrified of what he thinks Techno would do to him.

When Techno finds his injured teenage brother huddled in a filthy little cave beneath his basement, the rage he feels is immeasurable. The voices demand blood, and blood he will give them. Dream won’t be getting away with this one.

(On the other side of the world, in a country that floats on a man-made lake, Philza gets himself in a bit of a pickle.)

** The hearth down under by Crystalquill

A tiny change gives Tommy the courage to flee to the Nether instead of the cold tundra, finding an unlikely ally in the midst of a fiery hellscape.

But tiny changes can alter the course of history. The SMP will never be the same.

(Lots of cool Nether worldbuilding in this one!!)

to be a wanderer, wandering by hydrangeasheart

Tommy's feet drag in the snow.

It's so, so cold. He's so cold. His toes are freezing. His exposed shins feel like they’ve been cut open-- even the one that’s bandaged. His wings have gone numb, which is almost, almost good, because now he can’t feel the shifting, broken bones inside of the left one, just under feathers and muscle.

He doesn’t know why he’s still walking.

Or, Tommy leaves the exploded ruins of Logstedshire behind, and walks until he finds somewhere safe.

And things keep going from there.

(A canon-divergent AU, splitting off somewhere around when Tommy started hiding out below Techno's house.)

that’s, like, a hundred miles by No_one_you_know (and then “as long as i’m here”, and “he’s my brother, i just raise him”)

Dream would kill him. Dream was going to kill him- he was going to- no, he wouldn’t. Dream was his friend- friends don’t hit each other- Dream was supposed to take care of him- Dream /was/ taking care of him.

It hurt to breathe. It hurt to think. He couldn’t clear his thoughts as he stumbled to the family computer, pulling up a tab on google and frantically typing the name into the search bar.

The words Technoblade Watson stared back at him, the little black bar at the end of the letters blinking slowly, mocking him.

Why, of all people, did it have to be Technoblade?

in short: the one where dream sucks as a parental figure, tommy runs away, and visits his least favorite family member technoblade.

passerine by thcscus(blujamas)

Do I really need to put the summary here? Pretty much everyone knows this fic. Also, though, if you enjoy this one you should totally read thcscus’ connected fic, “shrike”!! It’s only at 2 chapters right now but it’s already really good and has this dark, foresty aesthetic I love...

not with a bang but with a whimper by dip_dyed_ghost

He knows Tubbo doesn’t care about him anymore. He knows that. He’s been shown that. But it doesn’t stop Tommy from caring about him. He brushes the pads of his fingers over the compass’s glass and wonders how he’s doing, if he’s tired of it all yet, if he needs help. He watches the way it points strongly in the direction over the ocean. He hopes he’s alright.

Even after everything, he hopes he’s alright.

During his exile, Tommy finds a drugged and hurt Tubbo on his doorstep. He can’t not help him.

(This one has a neat take on potions, in my opinion. Also it’s only 4 chapters so it’s a quick read!)

take this compass, follow it home by lightning_anon

Tommy's a fuck up, he can't pay attention, and never sits still. He taps his hands, pushes people away, and has never had a best friend. He's a screwed up, forgotten kid lost in the foster system. He's also just been placed with a new family. Tommy knows how this goes, he never ends up staying long. After all, no one wants a fuck up like him.

Why would this house be any different?

Or: the obligatory sleepy bois foster fic, but with a focus on the neurodivergent kids that inevitably get lost in the system.

(Genuinely want to see more books like this in original fiction. It’s part of what inspired my newest og wip, “To Build a Home.” So sweet and I feel like I had my eyes opened to some neurodivergent tendencies I never knew existed. I read this in a day and can’t rec it enough.)

bloodlines by youreyeslookliketheocean

Tommy’s an orphan on the run from his previous guardian. Philza’s a king who prides himself on keeping his kingdom in an era of peace. Wilbur’s the crown prince, and Techno’s right beside him as his adopted brother. When Phil’s kingdom of Pogtopia is threatened by the bloodvines—a strange, brainwashing plant infecting many of the surrounding kingdoms—the four must work together to keep the kingdom, and their family, safe. --- A royal au sbi fic... + the bloodvines, for spice.

(Yes I’m self-promoting. But, in my defense, I’m very proud of it. If you checked it out it would mean the world to me :’))

Heat Waves by tbhyourelame

Dream has always held a gentle admiration for George, but when their nuanced friendship trickles into his sleeping mind, he awakens to a new world of conflicting emotions and longing. Lost in the midst of a heat wave, he continuously listens to a song that works itself in to the very core of his heartache. Floridian nights, unsent messages, spiraling infatuation, and terrible, terrible weather.

Another fic I think pretty much everyone knows about. Listen, listen... I was once an idiot who said “Oh no, I’ll never read Heat Waves. It’s irl, not characters, and it’s probably cringe”... No. I was so wrong. This fic is wonderfully written, with a pretty quick moving plot and great characterizations. You do need an ao3 account to access it, though. Just to let you know. (Also read “Helium”, unfinished and hasn’t updated in awhile, but it’s the continuation).

Guitar Strings and Keyrings are What it Takes to Build a Home by Anonymous

Techno was adopted by Phil when he was 12 years old.

He'd been enjoying his morning before Phil came to him asking if he would mind them taking in another kid. Against his better judgement, Techno agrees and ends up with two new foster brothers who he was determined to not get attached to, no matter what.

Tommyinnit’s unbeatable method of avoiding sudden death by eneliii

“I uh,” Tommy starts, not knowing how to break this to the hero lightly. He hates to be the bearer of bad news. “I think your powers are broken? It’s not a bad thing of course, but like, I swear you tried to mind control me and it like, totally failed. Which is fine, honestly, don’t feel insecure. Everyone’s power stop working sometimes… I think.”

Sheesh, this is very awkward. Why is no one else talking? Why is Philza looking at him like he grew three heads? Why is the Blade staring at him so intensely? Why is Willow still frozen?

“Did I, did I hit a nerve? Yikes,” Tommy hisses, “Well um,” He steps back, bracing his legs and bending his knees, “This was like super fun, but I’m - I’mma head out.”

or,

in which Tommy manages to annoy the hell out of Phil, Techno and Wilbur by being both impossible to catch and irritatingly endearing.

or or,

a crack fic where Tommy is a vigilante and Phil, Techno and Wilbur are the heroes hunting him down.

(Feel like I am obligated to say how incredibly funny this fic is. Seriously. I have a distinct memory of sitting on my neighborhood park’s swing, giggling hysterically, while reading this. Well...until the end... but we won’t get into that...)

** bones in the ocean by bunflower

“Your reputation precedes you, y’know.”

“Does it, now?” Philza watches him coyly from where he’s now leaning against the wall, arms folded around his chains and gaze half-lidded, his lips curled in an arrogant, cat-like smirk.

“The Angel of Death, the ferryman of the Styx, the terror of the western seas. One of the most feared captains ever to sail, and yet, I have to wonder… how did a man like you end up all on his own? We searched the area where you were found—not another soul in sight. So,” He fixes him with a long look, allowing the silence to hover like a dark cloud, the words rolling off of his tongue with all the venom and smugness he can muster, “—tell me, Philza. Where is your crew?”

OR: Technoblade is a naval captain, and Phil his unwilling prisoner. Somehow, they manage to come out of it as friends in the end.

(Is this fic considered popular like passerine/Heat Waves now? Cause I feel like it’s reputation precedes itself, at this point... Pirate au.)

****

Okay! That’s it for now. Like I said, though, I want to add to this over time and also dig back for some older things I’ve read. Also, if you have any recs feel free to send them in! I’m about to go back to school and therefore might not have time for reading fun stuff, but whenever I get the chance I’d love to check them out!!!

Happy Reading!!

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bizarrebaby · 3 years

Text

Untouched

Pairing: Pero Tovar/Virgin!Reader

Work Count: 3.2k

Summary: You and Pero spend your first night together, which is your first night with anyone.

Warnings: you guys have penis in vagina sex. Some descriptions/mentions of violence, reference to painful loss of virginity, but we all know Pero’s too good to do that to you

You were a walking contradiction. Nothing was more confusing or intriguing to Pero Tovar than how you managed to exist in these times.

When he’d been introduced to you (it was generous to call it an introduction, seeing as Tovar more or less refused to acknowledge you at the time) he saw you the way he saw most everyone: an annoyance at best, a punishment from god at worst. When he glanced at you, he saw just a little thing, a girl who ought to be at home, out of her depths.

He first beheld your beauty through a veil of bloodshed. On the battlefield you had no equal. People throughout his travels often equated grace to beauty, but in observing you, Pero found that simply wasn’t so. You did not dance with the blade, like twirled silk. What you did was not akin to dancing. It was heavy and destructive, you took to you enemies with the crushing force of a mortar and pestle. You wielded the heavy and challenging kanabo, the force of which caved armor and shattered bones, man and beast alike. When you swung the heavy bat, you looked as a healer pounding medicine. The force itself was destructive, but it was delivered with the righteousness of someone who was preserving life.

You could not always use the kanabo, and you most certainly could not spar with it, for your opponents would be crippled by even a sporting blow. So Tovar sometimes saw your prowess with the sword, the staff, anything nearby. You made many an arrogant man eat their words.

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of flowing locks and fair skin wrapped in silks. He saw sword-cut hair, an oversized tunic, the loosening laces on leather armor.

And beyond the fighting, you did not often make with revelry. Tense in the company of most others in your band of mercenaries, you kept away when they became excited. When you approached him, scowling as he wolfed down his food alone, he dreaded having to endure niceties, persuasions, and prattel from you, and had already decided to be as disagreeable as possible. To his utter surprise, you said nothing to him at all as you kept a couple of meters distance and ate your own meal. You did so day after day, and at first he had been paranoid that this was some plot at inching your way closer, that one day you would ruin this silence and reveal your true intentions. Until one night, Tovar found himself doing something unthinkable: initiating conversation. Or at least, speaking unprompted.

“You do not chatter like the others,” he stated almost mindlessly, not knowing what he was expecting by saying so.

“I try not to talk when I have nothing to say,” you admitted. You looked towards him, half illuminated by the distant, flickering fire.

He found himself studying every detail of your face from the corner of his eye. It was terrifying, for once wanting to observe and actually caring if he was noticed doing so.

“And,” you continued quietly, “they say you do not like to be disturbed.” That was a very kind way of rephrasing how he was often spoken of. In all likelihood, what you were actually told was probably more along the lines of ‘he’s a mean, miserable bastard who doesn’t like anyone’. Tovar didn’t know how he felt about your twisting such words into something that sounded… reasonable.

Understood.

“I don’t like being disturbed either.”

Now, when he was to imagine a beautiful woman, he did not think of lip rouge and silent, unnoticed steps, or curled, dark lashes, of coquettish smirks. He thought of a split lip, and the uneven pace of worn leather kicking at stray pebbles, of tired eyes rubbed with the back of the hand after looking into the fire too long, of the struggle to hold back a wide-mouthed yawn.

Through a few well placed miracles and the incessant meddling of others (William) the two of you had ended up together. And this was when Pero discovered what a contradiction you were.

You knew death in every facet… except for la petite mort.

While other girls snuck off with their paramours in experimental forays of intimacy, you were studying the blade, the staff, the bow, the kusarigama. Raised by a father and uncles who loved you, but did not know how to raise a young lady. Only how to raise a fighter.

When you didn’t scare off any potential suitors, they certainly did.

While younger than Pero, you were still fully grown, and had yet to even kiss a man until Pero had claimed your lips in a passionate fury on the night of his confession.

Pero did not fancy himself a teacher, he saw himself as a taker, one with no patience for uncertainties and incompetence. But for you, he would be anything. And regardless of what he was, what you deserved was a gentle touch. Subtle, comforting, patient, and understanding.

All words that had never been used to describe him.

Over time, the kisses grew deeper, the touches flirted further beneath the clothes, until the night came where he held you against him in his bed, eyes begging for more as you looked to him for guidance. Never had he been so frightened at the thought of bedding a woman. He was a scoundrel with hands only fit for killing, and he was terrified of hurting you somehow.

But he’d be damned if anyone else took this honor.

With every piece of clothing he stripped your body of, you looked at him with such trust. He felt your heart beating in his rough palms, like the flutter of a bird’s wings. Never before had he been responsible for something so pure, so delicate. His relations before you were intimacies he had paid for in coin, encounters that didn’t require any gentleness on his part, where he cared little about any pleasure or pain besides his own. If he were to do one thing in his life with tact and delicacy, it would be this, he promised himself.

“Tell me again, hermosa, how many before me have seen this beautiful body?”

“N-none. You’re the first, Pero.”

He hums in satisfaction, running his hands up your stomach to cup your breasts. His thumbs stroke over the hardening peaks, causing a hitch in your breath as you shudder.

“Oh, mi conejita, so sensitive,” he descends, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking almost harshly for just a moment before pulling away, admiring how your breast shines with his spit. You squeak out a shaking moan. “I wonder if you’re this sensitive everywhere else? Don’t tell me. I’ll find out myself.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words, feeling the urge to curl in on yourself and hide. But Pero keeps you bare to him as he lavishes eager attention on your breasts, enjoying the whines half-caught in your throat. By the time your nipples are perked and wet from Pero’s hot mouth, your blush has spread down to your collar. He pulls away slightly, gently guiding you to lay down. He takes your thighs in his strong hands and spreads them further apart. His thumbs spread your lips so get a good look at your pink, silky hole twitching with a need you’ve never known before.

Your breath hitches as one of his fingers traces along your sensitive lips, brushing against your clit briefly before beginning to sink into you slowly. He rocks it back and forth gently while admiring the rise and fall of your chest, the way your eyelids flutter as you go between wanting to watch and being too bashful to. His thumb gently strokes your clit as he works to ease in another finger, and you tense harshly at the new intrusion. He leans down to press a few reassuring kisses against your neck.

“Relax, querida. Let me in.” He whispers, moving his lips to your mouth in an effort to distract you as he coaxes you open. His cock was heavy and hard against the laces of his trousers. You would see it soon, but Pero doesn’t want to overwhelm you. Not yet, anyways.

You breathe deeply in an attempt to relax your muscles as Pero’s fingers reach farther than yours ever could, and it feels as if he holds all of your bodily feelings in the palm of his hand. He continues to coo endearments against your neck to comfort you.

“Bueno, bueno… you’ve gotten nice and wet for me, cariño, so good for me,” a smirk spreads across his face as he feels you tighten with his words. “Oh, you like it when I talk, niña?” He teases, increasing the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, the tight circles he’s rubbing into your clit on the verge of driving you mad.

He parts from your neck to take a look at your face in pleasure, and finds himself enraptured by the slight furrow of your brows and the way your eyelids flutter when he strokes the right part of your insides. Your quiet huffing and mewling, combined with the way your cunt is gripping at his fingers, has him more riled up than he’d like to admit.

“Pero, I-I I think I’m gonna cum,” you whine, looking at him with pleading eyes. He bristles with pride as your hips move to meet the palm of his hand while chasing the pleasure he gives you.

“Cum then, muñeca. Cum for me.”

The coil in your belly winds so tightly it snaps, and white hot pleasure floods your system. Pero groans as you cream on his fingers, feeling his cock throb harshly for the umpteenth time tonight. A tremor wracks your body as the mercenary continues rocking his fingers gently to help you ride out your climax. When they withdraw, he doesn’t hesitate to lick them clean, much to your embarrassment. The sight of his tongue against your slick on his hand gives you… ideas. Ideas that will have to wait until another night, maybe.

He leans down to plant a chaste kiss to your lips before bringing you to sit up. He wants to see what else you’ve never done. Wants to know how curious you are.

Pero places one of your hands (which feel so small in his) against the tent in his pants, encouraging you to explore his body the way you’ve so graciously allowed him to explore yours. His tunic is already off, but of course, you’ve seen men shirtless before. His cock feels hot and hard through his trousers, and the apprehension is probably clear on your flustered face, but Tovar finds this entire situation incredibly arousing.

He’s no stranger to sex, but most of his previous sexual encounters had been paid for and, thusly, were with experienced (and sometimes jaded) partners. Though the size of his cock may have impressed a few, it had never been the first they’d seen, touched, or taken. This was different.

His eyes never leave your face as you bite your lip, occasionally looking to him for approval as you move to undo the laces on his trousers. His eyes are lidded and dark with desire, and a smile crosses his face, a little more genuine than the usual smirks he throws in your direction.

“Go on,” he urges, more gently than he knew himself capable. You finally slip down his waistband and smallclothes, and his cock lands heavy against his stomach as he reclines just slightly. You try to contain your startled gasp, attempting to seem less like the blushing virgin you clearly are. The way your lips part ever so slightly as you examine his red, leaking cock with nervous interest sends the mercenary reeling.

Pero almost takes your hesitance as fear, which he’s determined to quell, before you finally reach your hands out to run them along the hard length, drawing a ragged groan from him.

For a moment, Pero feels the strongest compulsion to take charge of you. To guide your head down and order you to get his cock nice and wet before he takes you, to see tears prick at your eyes while you struggle to take his cock in your little mouth.

But, somewhat regrettably, he remembers his first time with a woman well. He remembers the nerves burning against his skin like a thousand needles, the fear of performing well and doing things he’d never even imagined doing. He can only imagine that fear to be tenfold for a girl. You’ve spent years in the company of brash mercenaries, uncouth enough that they brag of their rough, bruising conquests. He knows the type. And what women you do meet often speak of intimacy with dread, or reflect on the pain of their first times.

You are one of the few things in Pero Tovar’s life that he has ever really cared for. And his greatest wish is to make you feel cared for. He has never known patience. But for you, he shall have it in spades. You’ll have plenty of time to play rough later. Or never, if that’s what you want.

Not to mention, he’s just about as hard as he’s ever been in his entire life, and he doubts he would last in your mouth, not with the passionate stare you’re giving him. You have, after all, always been a quick learner when it came to the sword. The way you start experimentally moving your hands along his cock confirm this, as he sighs in pleasure from the light pressure you’re giving him.

“This the first cock you’ve seen up close, hermosa?” you nod, and that teasing smile is once again set on his face. “What do you think of it?”

Your eyes widen just slightly at the question. He takes one of your hands and spits in it before letting you continue to stroke his cock, still patiently awaiting an answer.

“Are they all… like this?” Pero has a feeling he knows what you mean, but he wants you to say it.

“Like what, preciosa?”

“Big.”

He chuckles quietly before cupping your chin in his hand and bringing you towards him for another bout of fervent kisses. In these moments, and most others, he looks at you and sees everything he’s ever wanted. He presses his forehead to yours when he finally parts from your lips.

“No, amor, not all,” he pauses in thought, somewhat uncharacteristically. “Are you worried?”

“...Yes.” The mercenary appreciates your honesty. For your entire life, you have had to be brave. He doesn’t want you to have to be brave with him. He’s never been trusted with something as precious as you. He calls your name with the same softness he feels for you.

“I will never hurt you,” he promises. “And…” his need causes him to struggle with the next part. He’s still not used to being sensitive, not used to caring so much. “We do not have to do this.”

Pero can see the fire ignite in your eyes, that same passion he sees when you get up right after being knocked down.

“I want to, Pero, I want to. Will you take care of me?” his eyes have their own fire now. He guides you down onto your back once again and leans over you. His cock leaks against the soft skin of your belly as he kisses up your neck, sucking in marks as he goes.

“Forever,” he swears.

Pero hoists himself up to look into your eyes as his cock catches at your entrance for the first time. He pushes himself in just barely, giving you a little more each time as he shallowly rocks into you. He watches, feeling lovestruck, as your breasts rise and fall with each short breath you take as he eases himself deeper into your heat.

When Pero Tovar met you, he didn’t exactly respect you, but he wouldn’t have called you soft. You proved quickly that you were a better warrior than most men he’d met, and despite the roughness and inconveniences of mercenary life, you didn’t complain. In those early days, he’d have scarcely called you a woman at all.

But here you were beneath him, soft and warm, and everything he’d never imagined he could be trusted with. Long ago you reached your hands into his hardened chest, with all of its armor, and gripped his heart with all of the hope and reverence of a devout finding comfort in a rosary. The vice of your wet cunt on his cock was an extension of that. An inescapable binding that he had no desire to leave.

“You feel so good, querida, so tight and perfect against my cock.”

And so you pant, looking cherubic against the sheets with your splayed hair and flushed cheeks, lips plumped from Pero’s incessant kissing. The wet noises coming from between the two of you are obscene, and you love it.

“So good for me, amor, taking everything I have to give you.”

He wouldn’t last long. Not waiting as long as he has, not with you looking, sounding, and feeling the way you do. His thrusts aren’t punishing, but they sure as hell aren’t gentle, as he can only restrain himself from wrecking you for so long. And from the way he’s hitting that place inside that makes you sing, you won’t last either.

“Pero, I’m gonna— mmm I’m gonna cum again!” You keen, calling him back from his animalistic fervor. Pero stares into your eyes with a fire roaring behind his gaze.

“I want you to soak my cock, hermosa. Cum. Give me your pleasure, let me make you mine!”

“God— oh, fuck, I love you—“ you pant as he feels you clench deliciously around him. Any hope he had of holding on has fled now.

“Mi amor, let me cum in you, please, querida—“

“Please, do it Pero,”

You can feel the skin of his hips slap against yours as he pistons himself in and out of you, babbling about how beautiful you are and how good you feel until he can’t stand it anymore.

“Te amo, te amo, te amo!” He growls, ceasing his hips as he fills you with everything he has. You jolt at the sensation before relaxing again, his hot cum painting your walls. His elbows stop him from collapsing right onto you, but he can feel your breasts brush against his chest with every breath the both of you take.

He basks in this moment for a while longer before pulling himself out gently, resolving to clean the both of you properly later. Pero lets himself fall beside you in bed, still breathing a little heavily.

“Come here, querida.”

Pero stares at the ceiling as your weight comes to rest against his chest, warm in ways he cannot describe. The arm around you tightens, as if he wishes to pull you further into him.

“Are you… do you feel alright, mi amor? I didn’t hurt you?”

“Never, Pero. I feel wonderful. Was it ok? For you, I mean. I know I’m… you’re probably not used to being with someone so inexperienced,” you trail off, feeling palpably insecure. He gently puts his hand beneath your chin to coax you into looking up at him from his chest.

“You don’t have to be anything more than what you are to be perfect for me, amor.”

Taglist:

Pedro Pascal: @auty-ren

From the preview post: @josepedropascal @tintinwrites @computeringturtle @kiwi-the-first

#nsft #writing #drabble #the great wall #pero tovar #pero x reader #pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #tovar the great wall #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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simp-cityxx · 3 years

Text

It’s Showtime~

A Toji Fushiguro x Fem! Reader fic (NSFW)

Summary: Your lowkey malewife Fushiguro comes to pick you up from work, but you have some ulterior plans for the night…

Warnings: Praise, Degradation, Lots of dirty talk, spanking, breeding, possessiveness; other general smutty stuff (read at your own risk)

A/N: so yea, Nanami and Toji exist simultaneously in this story which doesn’t make sense (but that’s hawt so) but yk what else doesn’t make sense? THE WORD MALEWIFE AND TOJI BEING REMOTELY CLOSE TO ONE ANOTHER! But yeh enjoy

—

“Late again, huh.”

As you walked under the dim streetlight, Toji opened up your passenger door before crossing his arms with a blank stare on his face.

“Sorry. Nanami just needed someone to stay back and help file a few-“

He slithers a hand on your waist as the other tilts your chin. “Yeah princess, whatever.” Although his approach is far from polite, you’re far too focused on his touches to come up with a witty response. The way his words, gazes, and touches were coated with gracefulness but tinged with urgency drove you wild. It was far from erratic but not essentially delicate…this must’ve been the delicious taste of experience, and you were set for sails just thinking about it.

“What am I going to do with you…” he chuckles, pulling you into a kiss; one that feels almost too intimate. You grip onto his tight shirt with his toned muscles enclosed, leaving you practically gasping for air.

The kiss finally calms down and you hop in the front seat of Toji’s car. It always puzzled you how the man was able to afford such a lavish car on his own, Given the fact that he often took on the role of your “househusband”. You focused your attention as Fushiguro unexpectedly brushed a lose piece of hair out of your face. Even such a simple gesture had your thighs squeezing together, tensing up as the engine started.

“So why does that blondie keep working you so late anyways?”, He sits his hand on his chin.

“I think it’s simply the fact that im the only one who fully understands Mr.Nanami’s file systems.”

He chuckles, “Bullshit. Your boss totally has the hots for ya.” Trying to conceal his feelings on the matter, he opts to keeping his blank stare on the road.

You rolls your eyes, “You know it’s not like that.”

“Well if even if it was, you know I’m still your man,” he shoots you a toothy smile, god he was so hot when he smiled…

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“You are so damn corny.”

The rest of the ride is quiet, as you’re caught up in your own head. This relationship with the sorcerer killer had been such a whirlwind, even after about three months. His arrogant and flirtatious demeanor never gave any indication that he would want to ‘slow down’, but somehow you were able to mellow him out. In some ways at least.

Before you knew it Toji was opening the passenger door.

“Baby,…..y/n”, He tapped your shoulder as you had kinda zoned out.

“Oh yeah sorry”, you stood up, only to immediately get tossed over the mans broad shoulder, sneakily hoisting you up with a hand on your ass.

“IM NOT YOUR FUCKIN WORM PUT ME DOWN!”

“Huh?”

Without batting an eye, he puts you down as soon as the front door opens.

……..

Walking into the bedroom, you decide to throw on something a little more…causal. (Something you really know will get him going). You grab one of Fushiguro’s oversized collared shirts, leaving it open to expose the skimpy new lingerie you had just bought. Although not something you felt totally comfortable in, one of your office friends insisted you buy it for a night just like this.

You sluggishly walk into the kitchen where dinner is prepared, stretching your spine with a heavy yawn, before glaring up at Toji’s ample chest, merely covered by a black apron.

The raven haired man looks towards you, almost as if he hasn’t noticed your change in attire. You sit down for your meal, a little disappointed at the lack of reaction from your man. You finish up dinner and sluggishly stumble to the living room. Toji is sitting with eyes unenthusiastically glued to the tv. As you make your way over to join him, you feel a tight grip placed on your hip, pulling you into a rather compromising position.

“I told you last time about wearing satin..”

The words crinkle in your ear, causing your spine to tingle. (He has a thing for satin, lordt knows why)

The muscular man begins to spank you, causing an unexpected moan to escape.

“Shhhh.” A deep sinister grin is painted on his face. “There’s no use in screaming anything but my name sweetie.” God, you hated the way his corniness turned you on.

He persisted, already pushing you to the brink as he increased the intensity through his large palm. occasionally he paused to admire his dirty work, placing the gentlest caresses on your stinging ass before causing you to whimper once again.

You were already panting when Toji positioned you in his arms bridal style. “Tired already dollface? But I haven’t had my way with you yet…”

Fuck. You clench your legs as the heat between your legs intensifies. The raven haired man picks up and shoots one of his grins, floppy hair covering his emerald eyes. You could just die right here.

Gently laying his prized possession on the bed, he positions himself in front of you as you undress him. He throws the apron to the side and wastes no time utterly demolishing the lacey lingere you had picked out for him.

“Toji! That was expensive!”

He merely shrugs it off. “Black card is on the desk babe. You don’t even need all this frilly shit to get me to fuck you.” You cross your arms and avert your gaze; pretending this isn’t the exact outcome you wanted.

“Pout all you want, but your body tells me everything I need to know princess.” As he whispers, He glides a finger over your drenched folds, causing you to release the most sickening moan to ever escape your lips.

“I never knew you were this much of a slut for me. We’ve barely even started…”

As much as you want to give a witty response, his electric fingers slip and stretch inside you, leaving you breathless. You burn all over as he leaves intense marks and kisses all over your skin.

“Stammering already?” He grabs your chin and leans in, pressed against your chest.

“How pathetic. Guess we’ll have to teach you a lesson in manners…” with that he growls, slinging your delicate legs over his broad shoulders. As he leaves kisses on your soft thighs, you shudder in ecstasy. He lets out a chuckle.

“You’re so cute when you tense up like that. Just relax; I’ll take care of it.”

Swiftly he begins unrelentingly devouring you. Kisses pepper your sopping cunt, accompanying the intoxicating hums he makes on your bud. Even with your screams and cries, he only lets up when you finally come.

“Good girl. Now can you do something for me?”

As you nod, he sits you down on the edge of the bed. He positions himself in front of you, giving you a clear look at his egregiously long and thick member. It’s a wonder the thing fit inside you.

“I’m just in need of a little warmup. Think you can handle it sweet heart?”

You nod, regaining your composure.

“Yes sir.”

With that, you take as much of his 13 inches as you can fit in your mouth, but as he hits the back of your throat you begin to choke. Noticing, he slides himself out.

“Don’t overextend yourself little whore. Just the tip is fine…”

After affirming his words, you use your methodical tongue to play with his cock, causing him to release little fucks and hisses from the back of his throat. The way you fit him so well always got him going.

You giggle, “who’s stammering now?”

Teasing him was a big mistase. He furrows his brow and pulls away from you leaving you hungry for more.

“Enough. Lay down skank.”

There was no saving you now. It was much too late. You just guaranteed you’d need to use one your sick days just to recuperate. He pins you down by the wrists and starts biting hard onto your chest, causing you to whimper.

“You thought you were real slick huh.”

“I was only-“

Before you can even finish your sentence, the space in between your legs is stuffed full. He pounds hard into your throbbing cunt, amused by your gasps for air, and leaning down occasionally to leave you kisses. He was just too good, from his dirty talk to the slightest of touch, he just knew every little way to turn you to mush. He grinned as he put a hand to your stomach, feeling his cock penetrate you to your highest capacity. He was so proud have pleasured you in such a way, falling in love with the ways you screamed his name, the way your clever ass could turn into this love drunk fool with no one but him. The love he made between your thighs was proof enough that you could be no one but his. Toji may have been a master of his craft, but the way you wrapped around him even left him begging for more.

As you bucked your hips into him, Toji positioned you on top of him.

“It’s time baby.”

He released more of his intoxicating sounds as you both found yourself on the brink of climax. You pleaded for him to stuff you full, so he did just that, speeding up by grabbing your hips before one final thrust, leaving your thighs shaking around his burning shaft. You were all his as you laid there, dazed by just how amazing the feeling it was.

“You did so well for me today honey. I’m glad you learned your lesson.”

He placed a kiss onto your forehead before getting up to draw you a bath.

—

Oh lordt have mercy </3

#toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji thirst #toji fushiguro #nsft post #malewife

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

Episode 73: Koala Chlamydia Is A Problem [My Brothers, My Sister and Me Excerpt]

[MBMSAM AU] [First Installment] [Podfics!] [Ao3 Link]

[COVER ART BY THE FANTASTIC LITTLESMARTART]

Jin Zixuan: Do we want another question?

Qin Su: Sure, yeah, got one right here. 'When I was younger, I was really skinny and weak'--hey! Hey, now, negative body talk, much! That's super judgmental of yourself!

Mo Xuanyu: And of us people who are skinny and weak right now! [teasing] Right, Yao-gege?

Meng Yao: [calmly] I'm not affiliated with you.

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [cackles]

Qin Su: 'When I was a kid, I was really skinny and weak, so I made it my mission to get as jacked as possible so people would take me seriously. I put in a lot of hard work, changed my exercise routine and diet and it worked. But now, as an adult I'm a 6 foot 7 dude--'

Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] 6 foot 7 ?

Qin Su: Just a mountain of a man. '--6 foot 7 dude with serious muscle mass--'

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [sotto voce] Good God .

Qin Su: '-- and a pretty intense resting face. I routinely make children cry just by existing and everyone shoots me nervous looks in the grocery store. It gets to me sometimes. I’m not a bad guy! I just look scary. What are some ways that I can make myself less intimidating?’

Mo Xuanyu: Huh.

Qin Su: I mean, let’s see...puppies are unintimidating. Can you devise a system where you carry a few around with you at all times? Maybe in some saddle bags, everywhere you go?

Mo Xuanyu: The movies, the gym, on dates… .

Jin Zixuan: Sure, until they start pissing down your legs. Then you’re not just unintimidating, you’re the guy no one wants to stand next to at the bus stop.

Meng Yao: I mean, it still does the job, doesn’t it?

Mo Xuanyu: You could get a butterfly tattoo, like, directly on your forehead.

Meng Yao: Okay, please explain to me your thought process on how exactly that would make anyone more approachable.

Qin Su: They still want to be able to navigate human society, A-Yu.

Mo Xuanyu: Ew, why?

Jin Zixuan: Let’s see...what makes someone approachable….Who is the least intimidating of all of us?

Qin Su: [immediately] You.

Meng Yao: [affirming] Mm.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [incredulous] What?

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Oh yeah, you’re like...you’re like a poodle. Or a--

Jin Zixuan: [highly offended] Excuse me! I'm the oldest and definitely the tallest one here!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [ill concealed snort]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [pityingly] Oh, da- ge .

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: Or a golden retriever.

Qin Su: Please don't tell me you think that being tall translates into you actually being scary. You’re tallest by, like, 3 inches. At most, that’s just part of the equation of being scary.

Meng Yao: And the rest of Zixuan’s equation is just filled with collared polo shirts. Which absolutely tanks the intimidation ratio.

Mo Xuanyu: That doesn't tank yours, though.

Meng Yao: I wear button downs. It’s not the same. [Vaguely disgusted undertone] Collared polos.

Jin Zixuan: Excuse you, polos are weekend wear and there is nothing wrong-- I can be intimidating!

Qin Su: [doubtfully] Ehhhhh…

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [badly stifled snickers]

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: I can! Just because I’ve never had to intimidate you --

Qin Su: Let's just say; citation needed

Mo Xuanyu: Please, jiejie has you beat.

Jin Zixuan: [indignant] Wha--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: He's right, gege; an unopened jar of mayonnaise has you beat. And I'm no unopened jar of mayonnaise.

Mo Xuanyu: That shit is opened .

Meng Yao: That’s a Tinder profile quote.

Qin Su: What? 'Spicier than mayo?'

Mo Xuanyu: [half singing, half chanting] ‘My mayo brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like-- [normal voice] this is really underwhelming.’

Meng Yao: [musing] ‘Saltier than soy sauce, spicier than mayo….’

Qin Su: Why do we always come back to food? Are our Skype calls haunted by starving Victorian ghost children? Are we possessed?

Mo Xuanyu: [mournful, high pitched, bad British accent] ‘My name is Bartholemew and I’m starving. Please, spare some mayo.’

Meng Yao: It’s your own fault if none of you bother to eat before we record. You all had the schedule.

Mo Xuanyu: [crunches loudly near mic]

Meng Yao: [falsely happy] Hey, thanks! Thank you so much, A-Yu, love the level spike on that one. Editing mouth noises out of our podcast makes my day brighter.

Jin Zixuan: [under his breath] Just...unbelievable….You all….

Qin Su: [smiling] I think we broke him.

Meng Yao: [laughing] Zixuan is limping behind the conversation indignantly, brandishing his cane….

Mo Xuanyu: [sympathetically] Awww.

Jin Zixuan: I--! I am a high powered businessman! I am trained in martial arts and archery and swordsmanship --

Mo Xuanyu: [mouth full] Oh please, gege, you’re a pod caster.

Jin Zixuan: [forcefully] I am a CEO--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: [ignoring him] I think Yao-gege is somehow the most and least intimidating out of all of us at the same time, if we're all being completely honest with ourselves and our place in the world.

Mo Xuanyu: Aww, I thought I was at least a contender!

Qin Su: Honey, you're feral. There's a difference.

Mo Xuanyu: What does a kid have to do around here to be intimidating?

Meng Yao: Learn how to chew with your mouth closed, for one.

Jin Zixuan: [indignantly] A-Yao? Are you not going to deny this?

[Brief silence]

Meng Yao: [calmly] I don't think I'm scary.

Qin Su & Mo Xuanyu: [instant uproarious laughter]

Jin Zixuan: Oh, come on! He's like...a little koala bear or something! How is that scary!

Meng Yao: [offended] Excuse me--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [still laughing] I’m gonna pee --

Meng Yao: -- koalas have smooth brains and eat poisonous leaves all day. Are you calling me a poisonous idiot bear?

Qin Su: [wheezes] Only in private.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughter trailing off] Wait, wait, hold on. Don’t all koalas have chlamydia or something?

Qin Su: [renewed laughter]

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [startled laugh] What?

Mo Xuanyu: Chlamydia! I think that I read--!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god, I think I’ve actually heard that. The plague, the bubonic plague, isn’t it? Or that--Some sort of--that disease people used to get where bits of you fall off?

Qin Su: Beheadings?

Meng Yao: [voice strangled from laughter] Yes, A-Su, that ancient disease the French Revolution that all koalas have--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [snickering]

Mo Xuanyu: [loud and close to mic] LEPROSY .

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Ow--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Holy shit--

Mo Xuanyu: It’s leprosy and you’re thinking of armadillos, da-ge.

Jin Zixuan: [muttering] Aren’t we all….

Qin Su: [solemnly] Armadillos and guillotines. Every damn minute of every damn day.

Mo Xuanyu: And I googled it, I’m right; koala chlamydia is a problem.

Meng Yao: And we’ve just found the title of this episode.

Qin Su: If most koalas have chlamydia, I feel like they have other problems they have to deal with.

Mo Xuanyu: Those pesky, promiscuous koalas!

Qin Su: Get them some damn sex ed! Use those eucalyptus leaves for protection!

Meng Yao: [pleasantly] That’s just about the worst thing I’ve heard all day.

Mo Xuanyu: Eugh, that menthol, though. Like Vicks for your dicks!

Meng Yao: I hate it.

[crosstalk]Jin Zixuan: [pained] PSA: don’t do that. Ever.

Qin Su: The voice of experience?

Jin Zixuan: I don’t think you actually want an answer to that, meimei.

Meng Yao: You people make me hate learning and also knowing things.

Mo Xuanyu: Also I've been looking it up and mountain lions are the ones that can have the bubonic plague.

Meng Yao: Choose your fighter; chlamydia ridden koala, leprosy ridden armadillo, or mountain lion with the Black Death.

Qin Su: Well, at least the mountain lion could inflict some damage. Use it like a poison delivery system, like an anthrax letter to secretly infect people.

Meng Yao: [patient teacher tone] ‘A mountain lion is to an anthrax letter, like a koala is to a…?’

Qin Su: [mock frustration] Oh, man, I know this one….

Mo Xuanyu: 'I can't come into school today, I got attacked by a mountain lion.'

Qin Su: [acting concerned] 'Oh my God, are you okay? Are you gonna have scars?'

Mo Xuanyu: 'Worse. The Plague .'

Jin Zixuan: Okay, glad we got our animal infections all sorted out--back to what we were talking about. So, riddle me this--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [delighted, Riddlemancer voice] Rrrriddle Me Piss, kids--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao & Qin Su: NO!

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Oh my god --

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] I don't actually have anything today--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: A blessing .

Mo Xuanyu: --but I'll get you next time.

Jin Zixuan: No, I need to know, genuinely, this is not a bit-- why do you think A-Yao scarier than me?

Qin Su: I mean, what's not scary about a smooth brained bear full of toxins and chlamydia?

Meng Yao: [disgruntled] Uh huh.

Mo Xuanyu: Technically, they’re not bears, they're marsupials! And I think Yao-gege is more of an armadillo--hard on the outside--

[slight crosstalk] Qin Su: --And full of leprosy on the inside.

Meng Yao: [further from mic, keyboard tapping] 'And to Mo Xuanyu...and Qin Su...I leave... absolutely nothing, except...this bag of dog shit and...spiders…..'

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Awww, A-Yu, we're being written out of his will again!

Jin Zixuan: Listeners, am I wrong? Am I crazy? He’s the size of a toddler--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still away from mic, keyboard tapping] ‘And to Jin Zixuan...I leave--’

Jin Zixuan: He looks like a sugar glider baby that got turned into a human man--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘This box...of useless...tetanus filled screws….’

Qin Su: Da-ge--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: ‘--that i...encourage him to use…--’

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [snickering]

Meng Yao: ‘As acupuncture needles.’ There. Sent to the notary. Now, what were we talking about, again?

Qin Su: Da-ge, all those things might be true--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [flatly] Wow.

Qin Su: But here’s a test. What would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Jin Zixuan: [immediate, sounding businesslike and slightly aggressive] I would contact their parents and set up a meeting with the school officials and make it very clear that they are never to do that again.

Qin Su: [grinning] Okay. Yao-gege, what would you do to someone picking on A-Yu in school?

Meng Yao: [calmly] Absolutely nothing you could prove in a court of law.

Mo Xuanyu: [bursts out laughing]

[crosstalk] Qin Su: I mean--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Uhhhh--

Qin Su: You see? Also-- [quick sing-song voice] 🎵 This is a joke, for legal reasons, this is a joke 🎵 [normal voice] He’s got that--that--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [lingering laughter] Yeah, it's that menace. Da-ge, you’re like--you’re like if a duckling--okay, you remember when I brought you to Hot Topic? You were like a duckling at a Death Metal concert.

Jin Zixuan: [defensively] The music was so loud--

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [pityingly] Oh, Zixuan.

Qin Su: You're like if a golf course got turned into a human.

Meng Yao You're what would happen if you gave mac and cheese a social security card and keys to a lamborghini.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Okay.

Mo Xuanyu: [laughing] You're the lightly salted almonds of people.

Qin Su: You're like a wholesome Hallmark movie fucked the concept of the suburbs.

Jin Zixuan: [unamused] Sure. Sure.

Meng Yao: You emanate the peril of a box of lethargic kittens.

Jin Zixuan: Wow. My own family. This is coming from the physical manifestation of a My Chemical Romance song--

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: [smug] You say that like it’s a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan: -- and the woman who cries at the Land Before Time every time she watches it. I think this is a case of glass houses, here. Let ye who are intimidating...

Qin Su: Oh, so we’re not roasting Yao-gege back?

Meng Yao: Not sure how me being compared to a STD riddled marsupial for about 5 minutes straight escaped your notice, A-Su, but alright.

Jin Zixuan: I feel that you are all being...heinously short sighted, here. Are you seriously trying to tell me that A-Yu is scarier than me, a full grown man?

Meng Yao: I would certainly be more warranted in my concern about him stabbing me than I would about you.

Mo Xuanyu: Oh my God, gege, that was like 5 years ago and I already said I was sorry--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: [loudly] What--

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Did we actually help this person? I mean--

Mo Xuanyu: We always help, jiejie.

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: Hold on--

Qin Su: We learned a lot about exactly how disturbing the animal kingdom is, but….

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: No, go back--

[slight crosstalk] Meng Yao: Dress like a middle aged accountant, share minion memes on Facebook, and buy your son a puppy so you have an excuse to talk to the dog and not people. There you go. Done.

Jin Zixuan: No, rewind--Xuanyu, you stabbed our brother?

[brief silence]

Qin Su: [brightly] Well, that's going to do it for us today, folks--!

Jin Zixuan: A-Yu!

[crosstalk] Mo Xuanyu: It was only a little!

Jin Zixuan: How can you stab someone a little ?!

[crosstalk] Qin Su: Thank you so much for listening in this week--

Jin Zixuan: With what ? Why?!

Mo Xuanyu: It honestly wasn’t that bad, he made it sound like--

[crosstalk] Jin Zixuan: That's not an answer --

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [begins laughing]

Jin Zixuan: A-Yao--!

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [still laughing]

Qin Su: [brightly] We hope you enjoyed our enlightening romp, here! We want to thank Sister Sledge for the use of the song We Are Family. A-Yu, how about that last Yahoo?

[crosstalk] Meng Yao: [farther from mic, clearly grinning] Ohhh, boy.

Mo Xuanyu: Okay, okay--anonymous Yahoo Answers user asks….[exaggerated, desperate voice] ‘I can’t afford a freezer. Where do I put my deer meat?’

[Outro music begins quietly]

Qin Su: [laughs] I’m Qin Su.

Jin Zixuan: [sighs, disgruntled] I’m Jin Zixuan.

Meng Yao: [grinning] I’m Meng Yao.

Mo Xuanyu: [sheepish] I’m Mo Xuanyu.

Qin Su: And this has been My Brothers, My Sister, And Me! Thank you to everyone, see you next week and remember; send your trash dad straight to jail!

#my stuff #my fic #mbmsam #au #modern au #jgy #jzx #mxy #qs #text #ALSO THANK YOU LITTLE-SMARTASS FOR THE IDEA FOR THE THEME SONG I added that on the AO3 version because I FORGOT

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honeyhenry · 3 years

Text

Captain Confusion

A/N: Inspired by this video that makes me weep with its cuteness! I just had to write this okay 🥺🥺🥺 This is in the same universe as Homeward Bound, which happens after this story. Feel free to give it a read after this, if you haven’t already! ALSO should note that the lovely @ohmygoodie is my Sy partner in crime and without them this fic would not be made possible :)

Warning: mention of operations/hospitals, and a whole lot of fluff!

It was a simple procedure and so it hadn't worried you too much, other than the usual fears when a loved one is under the knife while in the hands of trained doctors. Sy’s hernia had been authorised for operation only five minutes into the doctor’s appointment you had all but dragged him to, and scheduled for 4 days later. Not really much time to prepare mentally, but you knew it was necessary with your big bear of a man in pain. Despite the painkillers prescribed, he was walking with a limp and groaning in bed for all the wrong reasons.

In the waiting room, you and his Ma kept busy during the 45 minute wait by looking through magazines, talking about how the Captain’s quality of life will improve, and what kind of minor jobs you’ll have him do around the house while he’s recovering as you continue to work.

“I hope the recovery isn’t as long as some people have said. I know for a fact he’ll not want to be cooped up all day. If he’s anything, he’s stubborn” you sigh, knowingly.

Ma smiles, looking at you pointedly, knowing that she is in the presence of the only other soul who knows what is best for her son. “He knows better now that his health is his wealth. He’s got a lot more riding on being well now. After all, it’s not just him he’s gotta be there for anymore.”

“Yeah, I mean I always tell him, he’s not 25 anymore. Or even 30. I’ll need you to back me up, he does anything you say. I’m his equal, you’re his Mom.”

You both laugh a little, hers warm and kind, while yours tinges with the remaining hopeful nerves of an army Captain’s wife. You don’t like not knowing about your Sy, especially since you spent all those years apart, not knowing if he was safe, or even alive. The waiting, in any capacity, is the hardest part.

You’re flipping through a random tabloid magazine, when the surgeon in charge walks through to the waiting room.

“Everything went really well with Captain Syverson. He’s coming to from the anaesthetic and asking for his Ma?”

Ma grins before sucking her teeth between her lips watching as your mouth drops. You both move from the waiting area to follow the surgeon towards where your husband is resting. You speak under your breath, only wanting Sy’s Ma to hear you; “I hope he still remembers how to grovel after this.”

Ma enters the room with you following her, arriving only a couple more corridors along from where you’d last seen him earlier that morning. He may not have asked for you but you were going to see Sy whether he wanted it or not. A grand push of the door allows it to swing open, and suddenly there he is. A little disoriented but has a large dopey smile plastered on his face as soon as he sees his Ma. His heavy head lolls to one side as he rests it on the plush hospital pillow.

“Hey Ma” he groans out as she bends over her large son to give his forehead a kiss, taking his hand in hers. He spends a moment just gazing at her for a while, the love he has for her evident on his face, as she tells him that everything went well, and that he can go home tomorrow.

It’s only after this tender mother and son moment, that he notices you.

“Ma.... why ya bringing a beautiful girl here when I’m like this...oh god I’m not wearing underwear Ma!”

His feeble attempt at trying to cover himself means that you actually end up seeing far more of him than you expected. Nothing you hadn’t seen before, but it definitely hasn't happened in front of his own mother before. The whole situation makes you blush and giggle a little as you try your best to avoid eye contact with Ma. You can only imagine the look on her face, and you don’t want to get any more involved with Sy’s naked form than you need to right now.

Rather than put you and your poor Sy through any further embarrassment, Ma speaks up.

“Oh darlin’, this is y/n. You remember her, right?”

And while he’s listening - or at least pretending to listen to his Ma fussing over him again - he’s just staring at you, gazing in awe as if you were the one to hang the stars in the sky.

“You are.... so pretty” he slurs, making you break out a genuine smile that he mirrors, glad that he was the one to make you look even more pretty.

“Well thanks handsome. How do you feel?” you perch on the edge of the bed and hold his hand. To him, the gesture feels warm and inviting - even if he doesn't know you, he recognises something about you in the comfort that you bring.

“Feel like shit. Oh fuck i said ‘shit’ in front of the lady” he whines again, scrunching his eyes closed as hangs his head in shame. It looks like he might even cry with the realisation that he’s made such a foolish impression of himself. It takes Ma shushing him and making him take a sip of juice from his bedside to calm down, dabbing his face with a cloth when his juice spills from his mouth.

“Oh Logan Daniel Syverson...what did they do to ya?” she lightly scolds as she helps clean up the mess he’s unknowingly created around him. That’s your Sy, a hurricane of mess that somehow fits into order just how he likes it.

You giggle a little more at his shameful expression, before he refocuses, giving you his undivided attention once more.

“How is it that ya know my Ma and we’ve never met? Or have we? ‘Cause I think i’d remember a face like yours”

“Well...” you start, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to let him see your entire face, hoping it would jog his memory. As you do so, the ring on your fourth finger glints in the hospital light, and for the first time since you've entered the room, he’s noticed.

“Oh...man...knew a girl like you would be snatched up already. Whoever has the honour of being yours is a very lucky man.” He smiles softly, a wistful look in his eye, while makes you realise that you can’t wait for the drugs to leave his system, you have to remind him who you are and who he is, right this very moment.

“Sy honey... we’re married. You’re my husband, and I’m your wife. I think the drugs are making you more than a bit loopy.”

It’s his turn for his jaw to drop, his eyes are unblinking as he takes in what you’ve just said. He turns sharply - more than his doctor would have probably liked - to his Ma, and then back to you, and then his Ma again, waiting for one of you to burst out laughing at the prank you surely must be playing on him.

“Wha-? A wife? I have a wife?” you nod and he exhales a deep breath of air in amazement.

“YOU’RE my wife? Really?” you nod again and Ma smiles at you as she watches the scene of Logan meeting you all over again.

“Am I still in the army? I’m a Captain ya know”

“You left just a few months ago. You still work in the local camps, of course. You like it there, and you’re home every night and most weekends.”

“Does Ma like you?” You don’t even get a chance to finish as he turns to his mother “Do you like her? is she nice? Does she like your new kitchen? I built it y’know.”

You knew when you met, dated, and married him, that Sy was a Momma’s boy. He loves his mother so much, that her opinion will always mean the world to him.

Ma nods “You two are the sweetest couple. She’s the best addition to the family, gives you a run for your money alright. She’s my new favourite.” You get a soft hug from her as she says this, with her wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you close. She’s always felt so grateful that her Logan found you, because my goodness did he love you ferociously, and he needed you in his life. You were the making of him, and the whole Syverson clan will forever be grateful to you for it.

"And where did we get married? If we really are married.” He continues his line of questioning.

“At the ranch, on your family’s land. it was such a special day. We had the reception there too. And we went to Italy for our honeymoon.”

Sy is basking in every word you say, praying it to be true, as if he could will it into existence if it hadn’t already happened, wanting badly to remember sunset kisses and italian food and beach days all spent with you. He perks up at the last thing you say, taken by complete surprise.

“Honeymoon?! Oh my god have we...ya know..?” A blush fades over Sy’s face, and even though you love his Ma, you really wish she wasn’t finding out so many details about your personal life today, like how your son rails you on the regular in many ways, and in many places. He must somehow remember or at least accurately imagine your past endeavours, as he grins like a little shit.

You smack his arm, lightly but with a firm hand.

“Be quiet, or the whole ward will know about our sex life” you threaten. “Yes we’ve had sex. i’d hope so given that we have a kid on the way.”

If Ma had had to deal with her son getting horny over his “new”wife, she was being fully compensated for it as she witnessed him fall head over heels in love with you, all over again.

“A kid?...Tell me ya not messing with me...are we really- I-” he swallows and his tears come even easier than before “We’re havin’ a baby?” With the sudden realisation, he turns to his Ma. “This beautiful woman right here’s havin’ my kid, Ma?” He looks between the two of you again, watching as you both nod and beam from ear to ear.

“You know you cried just as much when i told you for the first time too. i promise when the drugs are out your system it’ll all make sense again.”

Sy smiles, clutching your hand in his warm palm, almost scared to let go as the door is knocked and he feels you might be taken away. Instead, it’s a welcome visitor.

“Hey doc,” Sy greets the man who reenters the room, now freshly out of scrubs to visit his patient - who if anything is now simply love sick, no hernia to be found. “This is my wife, and she’s having a baby.” he looks back to you with a quirk of his eyebrow “My baby?” You roll your eyes and he confirms it; “my baby.”

“Oh, congratulations...again.”

The doctor’s evaluation and explanations don’t take long, and while Sy is being informed, you start rubbing your belly as a form of self-comfort. You will need to remind your child that while their father looks incredibly stern and impossibly large, he is silly and goofy and already loves them with his entire being. Over the course of the afternoon, Sy talks with you while the anaesthetic wears off. It turns out they had given him a pretty high dosage based on his height and muscle mass, so he would be out of action for a couple of hours at least.

“Oh, i have your ring” you pipe up before he starts getting too sleepy again, taking the thick gold band off of the necklace around your neck, placing it on his finger carefully.

“That feels better already” he sighs, as he begins to doze in and out of consciousness. Before he closes his eyes once more to rest peacefully, a small tear slides down his cheek, which you of course, notice. Sy has cried maybe 5 times in the time you’ve known him and three of those times have been in this very room.

“Honey what’s wrong? Are you in pain? i can call the doctor-”

“No i’m fine i’m fine i just-” he sniffs and tries to clear his throat from the sad, heavy pain he feels in his chest. “I’m gonna be real sad when I wake up from this dream. What if I can’t find you when I wake up?”

Oh your sweet, silly man.

“Bear it’s not a dream, I’ll be right here when you get up properly and we can go home and cuddle and I’ll heat up your favourite meal. I’ll be right there with you.”

“And the baby?” he asks, eyes wide. almost nervous to ask.

“Well they have to come too, they're with me. We can look at their pictures again so you can get reacquainted. And Aika will be so happy you’re back. We’ve been gone the whole day.”

“Aika!” your husband perks up, “Oh Aika, man....I love that dog..”

“I know you do bear, you just get some rest for now and then we can go home.”

Before you know it, he’s fallen back to sleep, his mouth wide open as he slumps against his pillow, completely out of it.

It’s dark outside when Sy opens his eyes again, watching as his Ma passes you a small herbal tea in the dimly lit hospital room. Technically visiting hours are over, but no one was going to argue with the Captain’s family. You smile, and he feels like he can finally relax, in your presence

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes” he growls lowly, and you look up at him from your phone, beaming in surprise, glad that your husband had woken up feeling a bit more like himself.

“Oh hello again” you smile and squeeze his hand, his slow blinking already indicating a much clearer mind, and that he knows exactly who you are.

“Again? What’d I miss?”

“The drugs” he stops you mid-sentence for a sweet kiss, acting as though a minute more without your lips would be the source of his downfall. “Mmmh, the drugs made you so loopy, it was the sweetest thing, Sy.” You grin as he pulls you up beside him on the bed.

He raises his eyebrows, clearly with no recollection of any of the past events. Yet still, he smiles.

“Yeah? How’s baby?” he holds you close to his side, wrapping an arm around your waist so he can cover your tummy with his palm.

“They’re great. Glad to have daddy back and sane.”

You swear that as you say that, he starts tearing up again, this time however he doesn’t let them fall. He was openly weeping earlier, but you won’t tell him that. Not yet.

“Damnit. Must be something in these drugs they got me on.”

“Mm-hmm sure bear.”

You stay close that evening, both curled up on a hospital bed that is already quite a tight fit for your husband alone. But as always, he makes it work. You’re half on top of him, both of you fast asleep, when the nurses come to do their rounds. Ma had left just after he had woken up, sneaking off into the night to let the rest of the family know how her most middle son is keeping after the operation. You’d cuddled and doted on each other until you’d fallen asleep, Sy following not long after as he bid goodnight to you and your precious cargo with a soft kiss to your lips, and protective rub of your stomach.

He counts himself more than lucky to have something so good, that it would pain him to forget. He was living the life that he’d been too scared to ever dream of, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

taglist: @ohmygoodie @michelehansel @la-cey @palaiasaurus64 @sassy-pelican @brandycranby

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feedback / ask me a question here!!

#captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #dad!syverson #dad!sy #cavillary #my writing #syverson x reader

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justfangirlthingies · 3 years

Text

The prince of lies (Loki x reader)

Soulmate AU: Every time your soulmate lies, their words are permanently written on your skin

Word count: 3140 Words

I think this is the last Soulmate one that I have on Wattpad as of right now

Father is dead. Your banishment... The threat of a new war...it was too much for him to bear. You mustn't blame yourself. I know that you loved him. I tried to tell him so, but he wouldn't listen.

The truce with Jotunheim is conditional upon your exile

Mother has forbidden your return

This is goodbye brother, I'm so sorry

Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service

I'M NOT YOUR BROTHER I NEVER WAS!

I don't know what happened on earth to make you so soft! Don't tell me it was that woman?... Oh, it was. Well, when we're done here, maybe I'll pay her a visit myself!

You're not

(etc. more lies)

Lies...

Every single one of them. How did you know? Well, because they were printed all over your body.

Every single lie your soulmate ever told up until now graced your (s/c) skin.

How was a liar like that supposed to be a soulmate for you? Someone you could trust?

Yes, your so called soulmate would never be able to lie to you, for as soon as he tried the lie would appear on your skin. Had they only been some minor white lies, that would've probably been fine by you, but looking at the severity of those lies you could only shake your head in disbelief and sorrow for whoever had received those news.

Now ignoring the fact that those statements were lies, there were other aspects that made absolutely no sense. Those you had already researched quite a bit . Jotunheim for a start was a mythical place and the lies stated that apparently the liar and his brother were not from earth, which was complete nonsense was it not? Otherwise he had to be some kind of alien.

You were interrupted in the middle of your thought-process.

I missed you too

A new lie, gracing your forearm. Though this one seemed rather small and harmless, this man was still lying through his teeth and you had to carry every single one of those lies. How often had you been asked why your body was full of lies. Yet you never had an answer to those questions. He was your soulmate, even if he was a liar he had to be good somewhere, right?

Aliens and beings from other worlds did exist though. Thor the god of thunder and the events of New York city. Did they have soulmates as well? They had to, otherwise the statements on your features made even less sense.

But who?

Who would lie so much?

The thoughts in your head kept floating around as you got ready to meet up with your friend Anthony.

You started walking to a nearby park. Your usual meeting point, as you felt yet another familiar tingle. Pushing it to the back of your head in hopes of ignoring it, you kept walking towards your friend and hugged him "It's good to see you" you smiled but only got a confused stare in return "What?" "You uh...got a new one there, a long one." A sigh escaped your lips at the reply of Anthony. "Well, where? And does it at least make sense?" Your friend just shook his head as he took a picture of the lettering on your collarbone "No, but here. Maybe you can understand some of this. It looks like sarcasm this time." He gave you his phone to look at the picture. Great another one.

Wait? Sarcasm? One thing you had to give your soulmate credit for were his snarky remarks, at least those sometimes put a smile on your face. You zoomed in on your collarbone as you read what was engraved on the previously clear space of (s/c) skin.

You know this is wonderful! This a tremendous idea! Let's steal the biggest most obvious ship in the universe and escape in that! Flying around the city, smash it into everything in sight and everyone will see it! It's brilliant Thor! It's truly brilliant...

Thor?! You could not believe your eyes. Whoever your soulmate was knew Thor. It was a shock and a relief as well. If he was friends with this god he couldn't be so bad, could he? You did however, question why Thor would spend time, let alone steal some kind of spaceship with this person.

"I see. I can't say I understand what it's about, but whoever this liar of mine is, seems to be friends with Thor..." The words left your mouth as you handed the phone back to your dear friend. The two of you sat down on a wooden bench underneath a tree, but when you heard Anthony speak up, your mind went blank "He could also be Thor's brother, doesn't that one lie a lot?" It took you a few moments to fully comprehend what he meant "No, that'd be impossible, that man is sitting behind bars for the rest of his life. Besides, that guy is evil. My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person." that last part was a lie. Your soulmate was a liar, he could easily be a bad person, you just hoped with all your might that he wasn't"

■ ■ ■

"Trust my rage" the god of mischief spoke. Just as he had finished his sentence he felt a tingle on his wrist. A rare occasion if it was a real lie, usually it was just a sarcastic comment which most of the time he enjoyed quite a bit. These sarcastic statements often caused a small smile to appear on his face, the few nice moments that made the time in his cell more bearable, not only did he find them funny and witty, they also stood for his soulmate, for someone that was destined for him and also that he was a perfect fit for whoever this soulmate was. He looked at his bare wrist expectantly, waiting for one of the snarky remarks that his soulmate had spoken to appear. When it did appear though, it broke his heart. His cold expression fell for a second as he looked at the writing on his wrist. Quickly regaining his cold exterior before anyone would notice. It was too late though. His brother had seen the trickster's face falter just in time and he had also seen what Loki was staring at. Before the raven-haired could pull his hand back he felt it had already been grabbed "Let go of me Thor!"

"Brother, just let me see!" Thor replied loudly, he wanted to know what this was about. Loki looked away in shame as he let his brother read what his soulmate had said. My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person. As he finished reading he loosened his grip on the other's hand, allowing Loki to finally pull his hand back "I'm sorry" he muttered. "They think I'm a monster too..." The black haired god whispered as he sat down in the small ship, his stone cold exterior dropping by the second. Was a soulmate not meant to understand? Was there really no hope for him?

"Loki..."

"Stop it. Don't pity me for something that's my own fault!" he screamed. He just needed a moment to calm down.

■ ■ ■

"How is this possible? How do I deal with this? I can't just ignore it can I? No" before you knew it you found yourself in front of a massive building. Stark tower. Your (e/c) eyes stared at the monument in awe, but you soon shook your head in order to resume your task. "Enter the tower and talk to the avengers on how to communicate with Thor. You have to do this because Thor knows your soulmate..." you repeated in your head as you entered the building...

...or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye you were consumed by light and gone from where you stood. Was that some kind of security system Stark invented?

Your eyes fluttered open just to see some old man on a throne before your sight went black and your body dropped to the ground unconscious.

■ ■ ■

"Are you certain Heimdall?" the king asked, looking at the unconscious human, who was now dressed to fit the Asgardian culture. He was inspecting some of the tattoos on their body "You were right they definitely are his soulmate. Though they seem to be a rather honest person, for Loki does not have as many markings on him. As far as I know at least"

What were they talking about? Who were these people, why did they speak of you in a connection to Loki, it made no sense. None at all. You tried to look like you were still passed out.

But apparently you failed in your acting. "The human is awake" a different voice spoke. Maybe it belonged to this Heimdall person.

A sigh of defeat left your lips as you opened your eyes. You tried to take in your surroundings when suddenly, your eyes went wide from the sensation on your skin.

You sighed as you waited for the writing to appear on one of your upper arms. "Oh boy this is a long one" You muttered underneath your breath, but it seems Odin had heard, for he raised an eyebrow as his eyes followed your gaze to your arm which you had uncovered from the strange clothing you were dressed in. The king had taken a hold of your arm to read your words.

You really think I cared about Frigga? About any of you? All I ever wanted was you and Odin dead at my feet! Malekith! I am Loki of Jotunheim and I bring you a gift! I ask only one thing in return, a good seat from which to watch Asgard burn.

"Fools!" Odin shouted.

Meanwhile you thought your eyes were about to pop out of their sockets as you tried to comprehend the meaning behind those words. The only thing you could focus on however, was the name etched in your skin. His name. Loki.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the Allfather spoke up again "Send guards to Svartálfheimr and retrieve my sons! Bring the Aether back if it's still there!"

His sons?

It was at that moment. Realisation hit you like a bus. You were in Asgard and this man before you had to be Odin then. Your brows furrowed. Why were you here? How did you get here?

"Come. You must have many questions." The king said as you got up and followed him "I am Odin of Asgard. Tell me child what is your name?" "M-my name is (Y/n) (L/n). How-how did I get here?" you stuttered as you looked around still walking. "I gave orders to bring you here" He replied casually.

■ ■ ■

The Jotun prince laid on the ground panting as his brother cradled him in his strong arms "No. No, no, no. Oh, you fool, you didn't listen." "I know." Loki spoke, his voice quiet and weak "I'm a fool. I'm a fool." he gasped in pain. "Stay with me, okay?" The god of thunder spoke close to tears as he pat the other's face to keep him conscious. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" the young god apologized gasping for air but he was quickly shushed by his brother "shhh...it's okay" Thor nodded as tears welled up in his blue eyes. "It's all right. I'll tell father what you did here today" He spoke again the tears now making their way down his cheeks. "I didn't do it for him" The raven haired spoke calmly. As he took his dying breath he spoke his last words "Tell them, I didn't want to be a monster" Just like that the god closed his eyes and went limp in his brother's arms. "NOOO!" Thor shouted in pain and hugged Loki. "I will find them and tell them in your stead brother" He whispered into the other's ear before he let go and left with Jane. Loki's limp body was left in the sand and dirt.

■ ■ ■

"I take it, you know who your soulmate is, judging by your reaction. It must certainly be hard to carry all the lies of the god of mischief and lies" Odin raised his eyebrow. "I have heard quite a few stories about him indeed." You replied taking a sip of your tea. You were seated in the throne room across from Odin as he tried to answer some of your questions.

In the middle of your conversation a guard entered and as soon as he spoke up you felt a burning and tingling just underneath your chest.

"Forgive me my liege. I've returned from the Dark World with news. " The guard spoke.

"Thor?" Odin asked with hope. The guard dropped his head a bit at that "There was no sign of Thor or the weapon, but..." As soon as the man spoke up again the tingling began once again in the same place as before. "What?" the Allfather asked.

The tingles continued "We found a body."

Silence filled the air for a moment before Odin spoke "Loki"

The guard just looked at his king with sad eyes. The burning had stopped. "Thank you. Bring this one..." The old king pointed at you "...to Heimdall. Tell him to return them to Midgard. Then you may be dismissed for the day."

Your chin dropped as the guard nodded and turned to you. Oh now you were definitely not going to tell the god that Loki was alive and lying. He grabbed you roughly and brought you out of the throne room and to another room, the room you had woken up in. "Gather your belongings mortal before you return to Midgard." Midgard? Was that what they called earth. As the guard was about to close the door you shouted after him "Mister guard man! Wait!" He raised an eyebrow at you, seemingly amused, but he waited for you to speak nonetheless and so you did "Loki can't be dead." He stared at you confused "Well he is."

Another tingle. This time on your finger, but you ignored it for now seeing as you were focused on the conversation you were having "No. I don't think you understand. I-I know he is alive. I can feel it." A small smile was placed on your lips as the man before you began to laugh, he seemed curious though "And how would a little mortal like you know that? Oh you feel it, of course"

"I-I don't know how I know" That was a lie for you did know why and how "I just know." You finished, he seemed distracted though. While the guard was distracted you took a moment to look at the side of your pinkie finger. "No." You mumbled when you realized the man before you was your soulmate, disguised as a guard. "What?" The man asked. "Nothing" you lied, a small smile on your lips. You were scared yes, but he wouldn't hurt his own soulmate, now would he? "Would you please come in and close the door Loki?~" You asked innocently.

His eyes went wide, confused as to how a simple human like you could look through his disguise with such ease. So he complied. He didn't really have a choice now. As he closed the door, he dissolved his disguise. Green smoke surrounded the man as Loki the trickster god stood before you now. He was stunning. Yes there was a deep hatred for this man inside you, but he did something good today and you hadn't met him before. Well not personally, you had however seen him on TV as he tried to take over the world, you had heard he was under some kind of mind control though. "You are a curious little thing, aren't you?" Loki spoke as he approached you "Who are you and how did you know it was me mortal?"

You grinned "I'm no one important to you" Your smile widened as you noticed him being distracted again. You watched in awe as your statement appeared on the back of his hand.

The black haired god stared at you in disbelief "No...no no no no. How? That's not possible" Before you realized what was happening he was already too close for comfort. He grabbed one of your arms and shoved up your sleeves. Perhaps your senses have weakened after your many years of service. Disbelief filled Loki's eyes as they pierced your own gaze. He let go of your hand as some kind of hatred but also hope filled his eyes "You hate me. You think I'm a monster." He spoke with clenched teeth. He was trying to compose himself, to seem calm, but you easily looked through his disguise. "I do not" You replied, your (e/c) eyes were soft as you looked at him. He stood there, waiting for the tingling and burning somewhere on his pale body. But the feeling never came. You had been truthful. "I know better than to lie to my soulmate." The words escaped your throat before you could even think. "Why did you say it then?!" The god growled. "Said wha-" The mischievous man cut you off "My soulmate could never possibly be a bad person" he quoted your lie "what changed?"

"I-I" you were speechless "I said that, knowing that anyone could be my soulmate, I tried to convince myself to see things positively. I did not know it would affect you as it was about soulmates in general. I am sorry for causing you pain Loki"

"So you don't think I'm a bad person?" he asked, turning your words around "I do know of the bad things you did. You tried to take over my home. I cannot confirm that you are a completely bad person though. I-I don't know you well enough to judge. For I try to build my opinion when I get to know people myself, even if this person is the prince of lies. Besides, you can't be too bad if you are my soulmate, at least not towards me" You grinned, reaching out your hand for him to shake "I'm (Y/n) by the way."

Loki looked at your hand, a smirk on his lips as he held your hand in his and brought it up to his lips to press a small kiss against the back of it. His eyes never leaving yours as a blush took over your features "It is a pleasure to meet you (Y/n). My name is Loki and I do not think I'll send you off to Midgard just yet, if ever..." The last two words were not meant for you to hear but you did. "Before we get to know each other better my soulmate~" he smirked "I have to take care of my father and brother." He turned around and walked towards the door "You stay here for now" the man winked at you before he turned himself into the guard again and left the room.

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