#'i am going to make changing permits such a pain no one ever does it by putting so much paperwork in place'

[theminecraftbee]

today on hermitcraft: grian re-invents the dmv.

#hermitcraft #grian #SORRY THAT'S REALLY FUNNY. #'i am going to make changing permits such a pain no one ever does it by putting so much paperwork in place' #I LOVE WHEN THE HERMITS JUST. DECIDE TO PUT STUPIDLY COMEDICALLY MUNDANE THINGS IN THEIR EPISODES #SURE. THE HERMITCRAFT DMV. IT IS REEAL NOW.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#370

“Here we are boy, once again.  The last time we met, you ran screaming like a nellie girl.  I haven’t changed.  I’m still the sadistic asshole I was two years ago when we reconnected.  If anything, I now demand more.  I told you before that I ain’t changing who or what I am nor what I want and expect from a faggot bitch cunt toilet.  I have to ask, what’s different about you?...

“Oh, you have embraced chastity.  Well that’s a start.  You wearing the cage now?...  Let me see….  Faggot!  Do you really think I want to see it hanging out of a zipper?  Don’t be so stupid.  Get the fuck naked.  The cool spring morning doesn’t bother me.  That means it doesn’t bother you. 

“…Wait.  Stop.  Did you shave your chest?...  No, you had your hair removed.  Continue stripping….  Faggot, I have to say, I’m surprised with that.  Pleasantly surprised…  Take all your clothes and place them in the bed of the truck.  Fold them first.  Place your phone, keys, ID, and any money on top of your clothes. 

“Good Faggot.  Now, bring that pee pee in a cage to me. 

“Where’s the key?  At home?  Faggot, you are going to get beat for denying me access to my toys.  The cage is one of those cheap assed ones that slaves can pull out of.  With a yank, I got the shaft out.  And if I squeeze these balls.  Shut up!  I don’t want to hear a cunt scream this early in the morning.  You know these balls are going to be in perpetual pain from this point on.  Finish stripping and let me get my bag….

“…Hold this.  What you are holding is a proper cage for a faggot bitch.  Notice how there’s virtually no room at all for your pee pee shaft?  As small as your thing is, this cage will keep it from wanting to get hard.  Here, take this water bottle.  That’s my morning piss, nice and cold.  Before you chug it down—and yes you will—take these two pills.  One keeps you limp, and one keeps your horniness down.  I own a urologist slave in Memphis. who told me about how to administer them.  I order it to take them daily to negate its own pee pee as well.  It hasn’t had a hard-on for years.  In fact, each of my long-distance slave properties takes them.  When I return back home to Denver and you are here alone, I expect you to send me a video text of you swallowing your daily dose.  Slaves are not entitled to sexual gratification unless I say so.  That ain’t happening…. Ever.  Drink up. 

“The only time a slave is permitted to cum without permission is if it does it hands free while being beaten by me.  I’ve only seen it happen with one property.  It was from Miami.  Its pee pee was soft in the cage the entire time.  It was great.  I even kept on beating it after its climax.  Its almost lost all interest in serving me in that moment.  That’s why no cumming for any of my property.

“You are shivering.  Let’s get you some heat.  Remember this tiny bottle?  No?  I never used this on you?  For the longest time, I couldn't find it in any drug store. Recently I found it on-line. It’s called Heet, and it’s an old school pain reliever for arthritis.  Stand still.  I need to wipe this dauber along your pee pee shaft, and around the head.  Your ball sack should be covered too.  Turn around and pull your cheeks apart.  Let me see your cunt.  Nice.  And a swipe up the crack, and a double swipe along the cunt lips.  Now stand up and face me.

“Now I wait a few moments…  There it is!  What?  Does your pee pee and balls feel like a thousand hot needles are being shoved in?  Your cunt too?  You are in excruciating pain?  Well let me see.  The instructions say, ‘Do not apply to sensitive areas.’  I thought it said, ‘Do apply…’  Oops.  My bad. 

“Ha ha ha.  I’ve been using this on faggot bitches for years.  I’m surprised I hadn’t used it on you on one of my visits here.  Well I need to make up for that.  Quit fidgeting.  It’s only temporary, about three or four hours of nonstop pain.

“Focus on me.  Quit thinking of the burning sensation in your crotch.  That’s nothing compared to the hell I have in store for you this weekend.  The last time you tried to submit to me you had an issue with eating my shithole.  I have a test for you.  You fail it, I will drive off, leaving you buck naked out here at this dead-end road.  I’ll throw your car keys out of my window as I drive off. 

“It’s time for you to eat my ass.  Here, help me get out of these jeans and briefs.

“There is no act that a slave can do to accept its role as my property more than sticking its tongue into my shithole for an extended period.  If I remember, this is what made you run last time.  Don’t worry, I already had my morning dump.  Oh wow, look at my skid marks.  It’s going to be nasty for you.  The hotel I’m staying at has the worst toilet paper.  I do prefer the tongue of a faggot slave to clean me up. 

“I want to feel those hands pulling apart my cheeks, followed by the wetness from your tongue on my hole….  I’m only feeling hands.  Fag, if you balk on this, I’m out of here.  I know you hate the idea.  That’s what makes me want to do it more.  You want to be a slave to a sadistic cruel master, that means doing nasty shit.  If I don’t feel a tongue in the next…

“There you go….  No fucking retching.  You told me that you want this life as a total faggot toilet cunt slave, you accept your role and its responsibilities.  You yearn to serve me with your disgust.  Your revulsion gets me hard.  If I find out you like to do something, I lose interest in doing it.  You want to stop doing toilet duties, then love it.  You have to really mean it.  I can recognize when a faggot bitch is trying to manipulate me.  It’s obvious, and it never ends well for the cunt toilet.

“This is what, my fifth time with you?  You ever wonder why I keep coming back and giving you a try?  I mean, each time you put up limits for me.  I should just dump you.  But I don’t.  One could say it’s pity.  Another could say that it’s hard to find a cunt bitch when I come to town.  While both of those reasons contribute, no there is another reason.

“Stick your tongue in my shithole.  Clean what you can on the inside, toilet cunt.

“Do you remember your ad on Craig’s List that got me to contact you?  I do.  ‘Oversexed 23-year-old seeks dominant top to expand kinky limits.’  That was about ten years ago.  When I walked into your apartment, I encountered something I don’t encounter that often, truly.  I have said that I don’t care to piss off 99% of the population to get that 1%.  Not only did you have the demeanor, you craved to serve me.  Back then you didn’t have that much experience in anything.  You had that hunger.  You took my beatings.  You suffered with every lash.  I could tell that you wanted it to end, but you saw that I was enjoying it, and you pushed through.  With each visit, I saw your growth.  Hell, I tell you to get your hair removed last time, and you went ahead and did it,… permanently.  It took a long time to get you to this place in your head.  I’m here to take advantage of it.

“You can take a beating, but it’s the extra raunch that bothers you.  I told you that if I came back this time, that you will either make the commitment to me or that I will be done with you.  On this visit, you will become a full-fledged toilet, my toilet.  That won’t happen unto Thursday night.  You have three days to put your head in the right spot.  Normally I wouldn’t dream of telling a faggot bitch slave what I had planned, but for you, I need for it to stew in your head. 

“For the next three days, you will be my urinal, drinking every drop.  You will give me a blumpkin and be my toilet paper, just like you are doing now.  You will stay with me at my hotel, sleeping on the bathroom floor chained to the toilet.  I’m gonna beat the fuck out of you.  I may even fuck you.  The next three days is going to be hell.

“You done back there?  Pull back.  Your face is a mess.  Good keep it that way.  I want you to smell me throughout the day.  While I am planning on taking you around with me to the sites I need to hit, you will probably remain in my truck.  You did pass this test.

“Stay there kneeling on the gravel.

“Thursday night however, your suffering, your submission, your service, and your sacrifice will be tested.  If you pass, I will take ownership of you.  My urologist slave will come in from Memphis, as I want a doctor nearby.  We are going to an old friend’s ranch out of town.  He too has slaves.  He’s allowing me the privacy to take ownership of you.

“After a day of not eating, you will straddle a wooden sawhorse.  Your ankles will be secured stretched painfully apart, making the ability of pulling off of a very thick butt plug impossible.  After taking off your cage, I will drive a two-inch common nail through your dickhead into the sawhorse.  I will hit the nail on its side to bend it, to make removal quite painful.  I will hand you a plate with my dump from the day.  You will be expected to eat it all.  While that is happening, I will be using my favorite whips and belts to turn your back into hamburger.  I will only stop when the plate is licked clean.

“Help me get my pants on.  I can see the revulsion in your eyes.  Look at my dick.  I am rock hard and leaking.  You know that the next few days is going to make me horny and happy. 

“Your suffering will bring me satisfaction.  My gratification is your motivation. 

“But should that change, or should I feel you are not living up to your full potential, we can end this.  Either one.  All you have to say is you want out.  Disappointingly, I will say that I will be giving up on you.  I will pull over in the truck and let you out.  You’ll have to fend for yourself to get back home or here to your car.  You’ll be naked of course.

“Speaking of which, I’m going to pull out, leaving you and your locked car here.  I’m going to be waiting at the fork in the road, which was about a quarter mile back, or maybe it was a half mile.  I’m going to wait for about 20 minutes for you to come to me.  No, make it 30 minutes.  This is a dirt road, and you have no shoes.  During that stroll, I want you to think about what lies ahead of you.  If you decide to back out, no problem.  I’ll just pull away.  I’ll drop off your clothes, keys, phone, etc. on your front doorstep.  You still live in the same house?  Good. 

“Hey!  The sun is coming up.  That should help you to warm up.  It’s a beginning of a new day.”

[wroteclassicaly]

This Is For You

(Eddie Munson x Female Reader)

Summary: With Hawkins burning, you only want one thing, or rather, someone—Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Language, smutty content, vaginal fingering, NSFW, dominant Eddie, mentions of injury and blood, light choking, & oral sex.

Pairings: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

A/N: I have no idea what this trash is, other than me letting my emotions and my dissociation pour into my writing. I’ll most likely do a part two if anyone is interested? Thanks for all the love on my first Stranger Things (Steddie x Reader) fic! Sorry if this is all over the place. I’m a few episodes from being finished with the series!

Also, it’s obviously obvious that Eddie lives in this fic, but he and the reader are going through some heavy shit (because who wouldn’t be), so it’ll be dark and heavy. Anyways, sorry for my rambling. Enjoy! - Kristen <3

~*~

“I don’t want to talk…” Is all you say, once again looking, not at him, but straight through. If you permit even a morsels glance, you’ll run like a fucking coward.

How ironic.

To say that it’s unnerving to him, that would be a liar’s goldmine. The beat in which you do not miss, fingers pinching together against a tickling press—you let the vocal bomb off with the loudest give away, mouth wet, yet pursed. “I want to fuck.”

His brows raise and those outrageously, chocolate brown orbs widen, hand curling around his beer bottle’s neck, fingernail shredding beneath its faded label. A deep sigh paddles his chest, thoughtful. “Y/N…”

He knows.

You aren’t doing well. An understatement, to be exact. In the nineteen years Eddie Munson has known you, boldly asking him for any kind of sexual activity is so far left field, that the monsters and the damned Upside Down makes more sense. You’re not giving him any eye contact, zilch emotion, with the exception that your request brings in—a vapid heat surfing its tail. You push passed the long haired rocker, but he grasps a ring clad hand around your wrist, those fucking eyes drilling holes deep enough that you can open your own rift in them.

It’s a comfort you’re not ready to accept, to indulge in. Yanking your limb from Eddie’s grasp, you try to swallow over the sting that piles into your throat when his hurt immediately filters in, distorting his beautiful features.

“Y/N-“

“Can we or not, Eddie?”

More pained directed your way in heaps.

His jaw clenches tightly under pressure, fingers tapping an idle beat across the beer bottle, tongue suctioning over his teeth, a crude noise echoing around the cabin. He’s avoiding your stare, mulling. It’s your turn to heave a hefty groan, already heading back out the open doorway, in which your bestfriend occupies. He doesn’t give you a response.

“Yeah, whatever. You know what? Fuck this, plenty of fish in Hawkins, am I right? I mean… they might be fried now, but…” A humorless laugh leaves you, bogging your throat into a constricting silence.

There’s a coping mechanism coming forth. Make jokes about the aftermath Vecna draped over your shithole town, in order to survive its ever lasting effects. It hasn’t been four weeks, but it’s a lifetime in your mind. It’s a minute too many. And you refuse to fucking think about anything that won’t make you forget.

“Stop it.” Eddie bites back, suddenly way too close to you. His worn sneakers in your eye-line.

Did he even close the door?

“I’m not doing anything.” You simply give, unfolding a tad.

Anger. Something Eddie has picked up since his own time underneath Vecna’s world, his… ‘death’. Both of you can’t go back to the way things were—all changed the moment Eddie attempted a deal with Chrissy and she died in his trailer, shredding both your worlds apart to the truth. You clench your eyes closed as Eddie chucks the beer against the wall, murky liquid pooling across the floor, brown glass shattering, Eddie’s breaths hotly fanning your soaked mouth.

“You’re a bitch.” Like a doe being mortally wounded, you feel that shock ice your blood, pulse beginning to race. It’s easy for your lids to flicker open, letting sunlight and Eddie flood your vision.

He’s so close now that he’s writhing in his panting rage, his borrowed shirt gaped open—scars from battle easily spotted. The deeper ones are still bandaged, kept away. Those dark irises are gone, a black cavern, caving to his animalistic pain, his primal want. Want for you to put an end to this, to be you again so he can find himself, for this not to be lonely as hell, and fuck—yeah, to bury his dick so deep in your pussy he isn’t sure where he ends and you fucking begin. But that road block is stopping him, halting violently to your trembling accusations.

“This is your fucking fault! Fuck you!” You shriek, purposely letting yourself shove at his chest, no other words dubbed appropriate.

You both know it isn’t anyone’s fault. Not human, anyways.

Eddie seems unfazed, sneering. “Oh, baby. If you want me to feel something, then you should try this.” He lifts your wrists into a binding bite, splaying them over his healing wounds, ones you purposely avoided.

You struggle to speak, a rebuttal caught on your tongue. Eddie backs you into a quick swivel, glass shards crunching beneath your feet. You collide into a wooden wall, dust billowing out around your frames, Eddie caging you in. Your hands are unable to escape his hold. You’re battling if you really want to or not.

“What’s wrong? Did I finally get some emotion out of the goddamned robot girl? Hmm?” His nose smudges yours, fingertips—damp with beer—leave your wrist bone to brush over your lips, pushing, pulling, exposing your teeth.

Eddie isn’t sure what the hell he’s doing, but he’s tired of pretending everything is fine. If you’re going to insult him, then he isn’t hanging onto one notion of sanity for this moment. The guy he was before all this—a freak, simply judged, turned into a wanted man that barely survived a demonic underworld, covered in their reminders—that kid would’ve tried to reason with you. But as you don’t make any move to tell him to kiss your ass, to equip a comeback, Eddie knows. You’re different people now.

That languid beat begins to pummel your rib cage with a sharpness, winded air getting trapped inside your lungs. Eddie lets his fingers leave your mouth, wrapping a hand around your throat in a simultaneous drag, his remaining one left to keep your wrists in position, his cool rings leaving a slight imprint behind as he uses his digits to tilt your neck, bending his tall silhouette to meet your flesh. He sinks his milky white teeth in, licking an angry bruise that blooms on the break-away. A hollow snap, a welcomed distraction. You fall, Eddie catches. He nods an out to you—it slips, you drown in acceptance.

Eddie releases you, stepping back, observing you as if you’re prey and he’s about to work a way to keep you. The air is on fire and you’re suffocating, falling over the invisible line, a territory that not even Vecna himself can touch. Silent communication is familiar to you and your bestfriend, and it’s unchanging—even now. Like you’ve just been strung up, Eddie your puppet master, you follow his step-backs.

There isn’t nerves, but the daze of a heart stopping descent. Eddie’s voice is raspy and drenched in that naked need to satiate his appetite and yours, those perfect lips parting to utter off a one word command, “Kneel.”

Like led is poured into your kneecaps, you drop in front of your bestfriend, palms slipping across his sternum, hands colliding at your sides, body burning to the brim, tears on your lashes-cold and sticky, matted. Eddie looks like a showman, the front runner for some contest, in which no others hold a candle. He’s unusually quiet, fingers beckoning your mouth to open. You take them down, his jewelry adorned knuckles bumping your nose. It’s not about worry or wondering anymore, it’s a dedication to need and understanding.

You’re still here. Together.

“Good girl.” Eddie is praising, losing himself beneath all surfaces.

Is he really giving in?

On cue, that shared thought process has him stuttering a barely audible question.

“Say you want an out, Y/N. You have one chance right now, because I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop if I fucking start…” He looks stressed at his admittance towards the last part, meeting you halfway with a crouch.

Understanding.

You lift sturdy hands, your faded polish, scraped nail beds from cuts that haven’t healed completely—to grip that light blue top Steve Harrington had loaned Eddie—ripping it apart down the middle. He doesn’t flinch from your prying engrossment, simply lets you go, his fingers retreating from your mouth in a ‘pop’. You tap a pathway across his wounds, angry and welted, others layered in gauze that is seeping with red crimson. Neither of you may talk about this again, but nothing else matters other than getting Eddie Munson between your thighs. Your bestfriend’s waist trickles around a quaking scrape, jagged inhalation relinquishing its hold on his diaphragm.

Your gifting indication towards any semblance comes in a gentle flick of your tongue over Eddie’s woven scar on his abdomen. You make sure to give every singular uncovered mark your lewd enclosure. No otherworldly power could bring Eddie’s eyes off your easing torture, his vision blurring through the tears.

You know.

These clothes he’s wearing, not even his own—you’re on the precipice of hyperventilation if they’re not gone within minutes. You fist a white knuckle grip into tattered fabric, inhaling him like some wild animal. Aftershave, antiseptic, freshly laundered Harrington clothing, cigarette smoke, and that perfected spice Eddie is fragranced in.

His brand.

His guitar pick is gone, having been given to his uncle until Eddie can claim it, along with his rightful innocence.

Chrissy, this is for you.

And you’re sucked back into that timeframe, beaten up denim beneath your weapons strapped bosom, next to Dustin Henderson, watching as Eddie Munson—your bestfriend, brings Hell and Heaven to their knees in another dimension, forging his own chaos, dedicating himself to this cause in her name. And you? That guilt over being selfishly jealous in an apocalyptic life or death situation, envy towards a dead girl, whom had done nothing to you but enchant someone you’ve loved before you could even speak a fucking sentence—is eating you alive. Eddie is frozen, a deer in headlights. Are you coming back?

It’s a dandelion to a hurricane, nothing within seconds. That hard resolve builds its way back around you, your fingers finding his belt, unbuckling, mouth over his smooth jawline, soaking and scorched, pleading with him. “Fuck me like you don’t know who I am.”

You need to forget again.

Eddie is having an internal crisis in a fleeting, secondary pausing. Can he really take you like need, like he can’t breathe if he doesn’t? Will it mean to you what it means to him? He does know you, more than anything he’s ever known his entire life. That soulmate shit, it exists inside you, the singular absolution that remains the same.

Time seems to sprinkle its eerie thunder across you, searing your skin with goosebumps that cause a jolting shiver. Eddie makes a fist, using it to push your floral shirt above your naval, the intricate pattern on his rings drawing circles around it, making you arch—gravity to a fault, and you’re crumbling. Eddie doesn’t take you to the blanket covered couch, doesn’t trip over himself in eager earnest to find a bed to lay you on. His knees knock you back onto the hard floor, a rug your only cushioning. It smells like pine, mothballs, Spring rain.

Your bestfriend’s unruly hair cascades around your face, his slim waist slotting between your legs, hands finishing the work he started. Your shirt tears in a rather comedic unraveling. It joins Steve Harrington’s garment beside your head, abandoning you to overlook Eddie’s body.

He must be hurting so badly…

You’re the biggest bitch alive right now, Eddie is right about that new nickname. Asking this of him after everything he’s been through—both physically and mentally.

“Try and get rid of me after I fill your pussy up, Y/N.” Eddie says it out loud, as if it’s a secretive thought he didn’t mean for your ears.

You start to speak, but Eddie traces your hand until it opens, fingers tickling your palms—jerking you up into him in a crushing embrace, relishing in how badly it hurts his bandaged form. He yanks your bra clasp, dipping his hold underneath the thin straps, tugging until it falls apart. Your thin cotton pants and your ridiculous looking panties are all that remain.

“I should make you beg me.” Eddie’s voice is so warm that it sounds like it’s sun kissed, flaming beneath the sun’s finest rays. “Should make you get back on your knees for me until there’s bruises.”

That ache of familiarity sizzles, making you tense, thighs squeezing closed. Eddie notices, a shit eating grin invading. His thumb pad grazes your bottom lip, his facial curvature meeting your own, piecing together. A ghosting whisper, Eddie troubled by his uneven breaths, manages. “I’ve never wanted to do anything as much as I wanna fuck you right now.”

You can do nothing but nod, entering a locked and sealed territory, that tension snapping. Eddie brings your mouth to his, one hand reclining on your throat, applying minimal pressure, the other slithering its way down into your elastic pants, bumping you into a dragging lean back. You whimper into his mouth when his hand cups you through your ruined underwear, hips rolling into his touch. Every word, each breath, it all sounds so goddamned sinful that you’re lost to Eddie Munson. Backing onto his haunches, Eddie has your shoes and pants off, immediately lifting your legs around his denim wrapped thighs, making sure you feel him.

You grind yourself against his thick hardness, veiled by two layers of fabric—a low growl cartwheeling off your tone. Your hands slink across his back—encouraged to skate across his injuries, a welcomed peace—finding purchase on that ass. His muscles clench underneath your vice grip, letting you move him. Eddie’s delicious mouth rewards yours with a sloppy kiss, his tongue working for entrance—acceptance immediate. Those noisy licks of tongues over one another—messy.

You get Eddie’s belt open the rest of the way, shimmying his jeans down to his ankles, his foot pushing one shoe off, ankle shaking to remove the other. His hands join yours, lacing through your own, as they dip beneath his boxers’ waistband, peeling them off. Those unshed tears wrap around your throat when you see his legs and torso in full.

He barely made it…

Before he can hook too long to your stare, you admire his width, the length. Your mouth is practically salivating, hungry. And Eddie knows he has you captive. If you don’t talk about it, he can still do this, right? And if you block out how much your bestfriend truly means to you, you can let him inside, right?

He spits into his hand, wrapping it around the warmth, pupils demolishing any brown hint his irises birth—all dark and wavy. His neck is red, like a vine wrapping around his flesh, screaming his urges to take. To have. Amidst Hawkins burning, amongst the destruction inside your psyches, you are both bursting at the seams, threads from your closed cuts threatening to wiggle free.

You want to get lost.

Eddie Munson wants to destroy you.

~*~

You raise your arms, hands running through your hair, completely enamored by reality.

We’re really going to do this…

You’d hoped, prayed, but never expected your bestfriend to agree to this. You’ve been so foolishly fucking blind, apparently. Eddie’s mouth is slightly agape, spit perching on his lips, fingers working overtime as he looks at you—merciful and willing. You don’t wait for instruction, knees raising to a bunch, pulling off your panties and flinging them somewhere across the room. Your thighs drop open, feet planting into the rug—rough against your back.

Eddie mumbles something inaudible, holding himself at the base, those veins clawed out over his right hand, winding into his knuckles, his silver bracelet dangling across that very wrist. You’re holding your breath, painting your fingers up and down your chest, seething in a trembling aftershock.

“Get up for me.” Your first command.

Eddie cradles the back of your head when you reach him on shaky fours, at his feet.

“Convince me why we should do this, Y/N. Show me how much you fucking need me.”

It’s already decided, but you entertain it, appeasing your mouth watering curiosity, hand laying atop Eddie’s, nails tapping against his rings, your lips parting, curling over your teeth, you take him into your mouth, that first salty taste melting into your tongue. You moan, knocking his hand out of the way, squeezing, feeling, letting Eddie show you how to touch him. Nude and worshipping him, Eddie is having a hard time controlling himself from using your mouth, discarding your unknown limits. You try a further distance, that gag ever-so-present, only to be ignored. Eddie’s fingers dig into your scalp, tugging harshly on your hair until it aches to an itch at the roots.

When your eyes meet him through the fog, you make it clear you’ll do anything to get to the other side.

“A lady in waiting…” He babbles that nerdy game speak, head dipping back to bare his jugular. “For a true medieval knight.”

There’s my Eddie.

Your mouth is cherry red, swollen, by the time Eddie has to rear back. He wants to fucking kiss that mouth.

It would be okay, yeah? Fuck it.

He nails you to the floor, jaw bone smashing into yours, nose edging yours into a bend, his lips finding you. It’s a frenzied discombobulation, like all air has been vacuumed from planet earth, leaving only Eddie’s breath matching yours pant for pant. Tired and overwhelmed, flooded with trauma that can no longer be discarded, Eddie pulls away, hand splaying above your abdomen, teeth sinking into your bottom lip until you can taste copper—gaining your focus.

“Ask me again, Y/N. Tell me I’m all you fucking need.” He’s damn near whimpering, lost to the possibility of retreating rejection.

He grips your throat with one hand. You swallow against his palming grip, lust drunk. “You know you’re all I’ve ever needed, Eddie.”

Eddie does let out a mewling. You’re giving more than he was prepared for. More than he’s seen from you in weeks. You tug on his long locks, encouraging, tone honey lathered, floating. “Make me come on your fingers.”

“Dammit, Jesus Christ, Y/N.” His bracelet is cool as it trickles along your inner thigh, his firm hand parting you for his feasting.

His rings move patterns—up and down, shaping, mapping, writing some Morse code shit. When he does give into you, it’s a fingertip gliding along your glistening labia, arousal stringing from you. He marvels.

“The sweetest little pussy has always been mine, and no one is gonna take it from me.” He muses, a possessive strength encasing his words, yet he’s still not doing exactly what your body is begging for.

Your back arches, attempting to help you gain an upper hand. You exert yourself, cries softly dying out when Eddie doesn’t give in.

“You could’ve asked anyone to fuck you, but you didn’t.”

He knows.

Eddie’s lips press against your jaw, his fingers finally opening you—warning obliterated—being accepted with a squelching slide. He pushes a little more on your throat to combine, you practically coo at him. He’s never been this hard before, unable to move without that pattering pain. And as you tighten those slick walls around him, his stomach feels the pressure.

You know…

~*~*~**~*~*~

Tagging: @littledemondani @prettyboyeddiemunson @lovelylangdonx

#kristenwrites #my writing #my work #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4

[prongsmydeer]

Ayesha Liveblogs Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story

The opening credits are beautiful, I'll give them that

"I know that no one who looks like you or me has ever married one of these people, ever." Bridgerton: Now Even More Suspicious When It Comes to Depictions of Race

Even permitting for the thirteen children, Queen Charlotte seems pretty neutral about her granddaughter's [redacted] LOL

"Very brown. Thoughts?" Me walking into parties in high school

Not Lady Danbury's Crypt Keeper-ass husband removing his teeth to sleep

"Lord Danbury. Imagine." [Tensely] "I am imagining." Lady Danbury knows that a title needs an heir

"You may be too beautiful to marry me. People will talk, given that I am a troll." George is handsome to the point of distraction

"Either way, the choice is entirely up to her." I know it's like bare minimum but I do appreciate George reinforcing Charlotte's autonomy in the matter of their marriage

Charlotte changing outfits is fun for two reasons 1) That she is showing that she will be her own woman as Queen and 2) The superstition around seeing the bride in her dress before the wedding

Honestly, honestly. Get u a man who will bequeath u an investment property and give u ur space whenever you want it.

"Do we not spend this night together? My governness said that is what happens on our wedding night." [Pregnant pause] "Fine. I shall stay." What is George's deal? Surely even the pretense of consummation is necessary?

George from Bridgerton 🤝Derek from Swan Princes: How to Offend Women in Five Syllables or Less

Charlotte does not mince words for her Virgin and Whore Adult Children:

"Your father and I made 15 royal babies all by ourselves. I do not see why the whole lot of you cannot make just one." Mad props for surviving 15 rounds of childbirth in Georgian England

Say what you will about Charlotte's currently loveless marriage, at least she's eating good food

HAHAHAH we finally get gay characters in this show and it's Five Steps Behind Brimsley and There's Nothing Wrong With His Bits Other Guy

Justice for Benedict and Eloise, who are bisexual and lesbian to meeee

"I do not know a single soul here except for you. I'm completely alone, and you prefer the sky to me." Even if George refuses to be a husband to Charlotte, he can at least be a friend

"What if he puts another one of his gigantic babies inside me?" Am I to take this as Lady Danbury has living children or nah

George sending Charlotte a dog is another green flag

Thank God for Lady Danbury, no one will ever tell the Bridgerton women what sex is when they ought to

"But it can be such a pleasure." "Or it can be a painful, lifelong sentence." Danbury vs. Bridgerton: Marriage dichotomy edition

"I do not like the part where my head hits the wall over and over again. Is there a way to avoid that?" "Yes, there is a way to avoid that." George said: I want to be on bottom 🥰

George said: I am about to ruin the energy of our whole marriage in less than a minute

Is the King's tremor meant to represent his already being in the midst of his disease? :((

"Mother was going on and on to all the ladies at tea that their love means we now live in an unnatural society." Violet's mum said: The energy of this show isn't rank enough, time to be racist

Violet's dad calling her both Beauty and Brains as she asks questions 💝I love him

"So they are exactly like us. Better in some cases considering that several of them are from royal families of their own, and have much more money than we do." Violet said: I'm an ally

HAHAHAH George and Charlotte working out their issues in classic Bridgerton style, via sex montage

"It would be difficult for you to hear about the Queen being with child long after the fact, would it not?" Lady Danbury said: I will go to ANY length to avoid spending time with my husband (fair)

"I planned some correspondence that I need to write, so the time was useful." Agatha, Master of Dissassociation

Not Mama Ledger dissing the Tween Mozart LMAO

"I told you that I enjoy science. Part of that science is agriculture. I enjoy farming." "So King George is... Farmer George?" There's the Farmer George I've heard so much about

"Why do you not understand that you hold our fates in your hands?" Something something the distance from the nobility to the class it rules something something labour from women of colour (and specifically Black women) something something Bridgerton bringing up the outward dynamics of racial inequity while refusing to interrogate the fact Nearly Every Single Black Female Character of Significance AND Simon Has Had Their Reproductive Autonomy Taken Away (Simon's mother, Marina, Lady Danbury, Queen Charlotte)

Shout-out Brimsley and NWWHB (Nothing Wrong With His Bits) for being my emotional support background couple

"You can be a person with me." George and Charlotte uniting over their common understanding of their duty to support the nation ❤️

Lady Danbury and Lord Ledger ending racism one dance at a time

"Thank you." "You never have to thank me. We are a team." This line would've absolutely KILLED IT had it not been for the fact that Voltron already used this line in 2018, in a more emotionally substantive context (Shout-out my boy Shiro)

Not Lady Danbury and her homie Coral giggling and hugging because Lord Danbury is deceased (good for them)

Flhkfjhfkjhf Lady Danbury's 'Sorry I offended you about your dead husband, mine sucked,' tea is a social event on its own

"I was in the sky, but now I am going inside. Into Buckingham House." Charlotte immediately understanding that she needs to work within George's delusions :(

"Tell me, what would the people prefer: A royal baby, or cheap bread?" These principles do make for a good ruler, it is a shame about The Illness

"You command an entire kingdom. You can command yourself." George said: Friendship ended with early-onset neurological dysfunction, now personal affirmations are my best friend

(I really hope someone has done fanart from this ep with George and that meme 'I am no longer mentally ill')

Tfjfjhfjfhf imagine if instead of finding me the right meds for my nerve pain, my doctor just slapped me in the face and told me to get a hold of myself. Georgian England Medicine do be rough

"Her perfection is matched only by my deformity." Fuck. I did not anticipate how deeply Farmer George's story would hit from a place of like. Self-imposed exclusion due to living in a broken body. But damn

Did it really take until four episodes in for NWWHB aka the King's Man aka Brimsley's boyfriend aka Reynolds to get a name?

I am enjoying the retrospective on all of these events from George's side of things

"And just like an animal, I will break you." I no longer enjoy the retrospective on George's side of things

It really is the Ultimate Gesture that he's getting tortured so he can get be well enough to know his wife

If nothing else, the King has a solid homie in Reynolds

Really fair of Charlotte to be upset to be uninformed of what George was going through, but brutal that he's going back to Doctor Mon(ster)ro

"Do you suppose the Queen ever seeks...?" Omg I wouldn't expect Violet to be so saucy

Why are all the middle-aged women rising from their beds in the night is this going to be like that Glee song where everyone simultaneously discovers masturbation

"Loneliness is a battle even queens must fight for themselves." Penelope Featherington, somewhere: I gotta make fun of the Queen for having a mentally-ill husband

I'm pretty sure this captioning is incorrect, and what George is saying is, "Doctor! Doctor!" and not "Torture! Torture!" But both are accurate I suppose

Hahahaha not to add insult to injury for Violet, but Lady Danbury made eye contact with Violet's dad at Lord Danbury's funeral like she was thinking he was beekeeping age

"It's not surprising you should mourn him, he was your husband." You don't have to like someone to feel weird that they're dead

"I was three when my parents promised me. When a deal was struck. Three years old. So, I was raised to be his wife." Agatha's parents said have you heard of grooming? We have brought it down to a science

The People of Colour in Nobility raise fair points about succession

"I am sorry to report that she remains alive and well, Your Majesty." Brimsley said treason is allowed if it's funny

"Paint her skin lighter. Pale. His Majesty wants her to glow." 70% of fanart for any given fandom LMAO (also shout-out to the real world contention around images of Queen Charlotte)

"I will see you here tomorrow. Same time. You will wear better shoes. We can ramble together." I KNEWWWW there was some eye contact going on [Agatha as Animatronic Fox voice] I'm gonna fuck your dad, Violet

"Your garden is in bloom." "It is blooming out of control." It IS going to be like that scene from Glee

"Georgie, be a good boy and approve your brothers' marriages." "...I approve." The Princes forgot that there is one power that trumps even the monarchy: Being a mama's boy

"Your body is not your own." Welcome 2 having a uterus

At least Aldophus would be willing to intervene if his sister were in physical danger

"Rambles are there." "Rambles are there." "I am there." This would be so romantic if it were not directed at her future friend's dad LMAO

Agatha, somewhere in the present: My garden bloomed for your father once, Violet

"The hard part is done," said Princess Augusta, as if being married to a person losing grip on themselves for the remainder of their life is not a hard part

There is something that feels like empathy about Augusta saying that Charlotte never has to see her husband again, even if it's immediately followed by the clarification they could need another heir

Brimsley reaching out to Charlotte but unable to reach her due to Georgian social graces

I do feel for Reynolds, in his being caught and unable to do anything to help his partner or his friend/King

It is funny that we have not once seen Agatha interact with her children, given how family oriented the main plot of the show is. Historically accurate, mayhaps, but omg

"What do any of the women of the ton know of true friendship?" Agatha said: FRIENDSHIP IS FOR MEN AND THE POOR

"We are untold stories. And yesterday, you told me something of your story. And I, thank you." "You are most welcome." I love Lady Bridgerton and Lady Danbury's friendship ❤️

"It did not bloom until after he was gone." With your dad, Violet!

"I want to be gardened as much as possible." Violet said: Now that I have found my libido, I am open for business

Dominic Danbury is sooo cute I want a million more scenes of the world's tiniest noble:

I do love how they give specific context to what royal connections the Danbury family has in Sierra Leone, rather than leaving their noble connections in ambiguity

I know Charlotte's the queen but damn imagine having someone who has just stationed their whole business in your drawing room before you got home

"Where will Your Majesty go?" "Why, I have come here." Charlotte said: Be a pal and commit treason with me, Agatha

Agatha and Charlotte deciding to start their friendship sincerely 💗I love women

"I'm afraid." "Afraid of what?" "That I will not be able to love her." "Love is not a thing one is able or not able to do based on some magic. Some chemistry. That is for plays. Love is determination. Love is a choice one makes." Charlotte said: Love is companionship, William

"And these youthful fits shall become mere embarrassing memories." 1) Adolphus, you say this with the slightest bit of context as to why Charlotte left and 2) Not a good time to use the word 'fits,' it's a sensitive topic

"And I am not... coming inside." Finally the prophecy of dad fucking is fulfilled

Charlotte said: That's enough of this medical malpractice

You know, I didn't really keep a good count of Agatha's kids. Are there four already or does she potentially give birth to her homie's half-sibling LMAO

Also: It is deeply weird that Papa Ledger's method of hitting on people is the birthday hat he also makes for his daughter

Violet has now found the birthday hat; to be expected but unfortunate for all involved. Does she think it was her husband or does she know it was her dad?

"I see them. Do you not?" Brimsley is ride or die for Charlotte 4ever

"I love you. From the mo... from the moment I saw you trying to go over the garden wall, I have loved you desperately. I cannot breathe when you are not near. I love you Charlotte. My heart calls your name. I wanted to tell you. I wanted you to know." COMMUNICATION

I love the double meaning in the last two lines, because it bridges right into him telling her about his condition so it's both "I wanted to tell you (that I love you)," and "I wanted to tell you (that I have been bearing this)."

"Perhaps one day [Violet] will have an unimpeachable reputation. Just like yours." I think this is how Papa Ledger has chosen to break up with Agatha

"I do not remember names. I am female." Me when I lie

"You do not know us. Any of us. You do not learn about us. You do not care for what we care for." Generational trauma: Royal edition

"They will be together, have a marriage, grow old as one. We would serve them together." "A lifetime." Gay marriage: Royal aide edition

"Losing a husband is... inconvenient." Augusta said: Sorrows, sorrows, prayers

"I will not engage with the princess. I've promised the Queen friendship." Agatha said: Loyal homies before royal homies

"Brimsley. Have you any family? Did you never marry?" Incredible that after approximately 30 years, Charlotte has not once asked Brimsley about his personal life. Oh, rich people

Lady Danbury is too honourable to ask Charlotte for help, even though she needs help with title succession :(

"I have loved and been loved. And that is all I shall say." Lady Danbury said: I will never admit to sleeping with your dad, Violet

"There is womanly work afoot." HAHAHA me when I want a man to leave

Were I Charlotte, I would not take kindly to the horse comparison, no matter how helpful it was

"And over the years, I learned I need not be content to surrender myself to the uselessness of female pursuits. Instead, I secured my son as King." Augusta said: Crying is for women, we are politicians

You know, all this talk of Parliament has suddenly reminded me how anachronistic George's haircut is. I wonder if he will finally put on a wig

"You have been an admirable adversary thus far. Our battles bring me satisfaction. So this, will not do. You are not allowed to come here and sob. You may not quit. Cover your bruises and endure. Do not lose control of your fate, Agatha." HAHAHAHA I can't believe Augusta is giving Agatha a pep talk and a shot of alcohol mid-title negotiation. That's mentorship

"I am sorry." Is George hiding under the bed? LMAO

Update from ten seconds later: He is

Sometimes, love is not about who will pull you out from beneath the bed, but who will get under the bed with you

"Not a full me. Not a full marriage. Only half. Half a man. Half a king. half a life." "If what we have is half, then we shall make it the very best half." 💘Oh Charlotte

I know Agatha doesn't NEED to marry a Prince, but I think it'd be fun if she did

"I will not say words with hearts and flowers, because I know you are not a hearts and flowers woman. But there is something here. Between us. I believe we could be happy together." Yet another marriage of companionship about to be tossed over for passion. Why does no one on this show what to marry someone who simply wants to provide them a life of kindness!!! (I know in Agatha's case, Lord Ledger is also kind, but not kind enough not to cheat on his wife and introduce his daughter to his mistress. Soooooo)

Why do they cut to the back-and-forth between invitation and sex like it is necessary preparation for the ball hahahhaa

George is representing a very real mental health experience of when you spend a long time in your house and then you experience like mild agoraphobia when you have to be outside again

Literally no one at this ball has hair like George LMAO. But why am I seeking anything historical in the Shonda Rhimes Cinematic Universe:

"I cannot marry you, but only because I cannot marry anyone." I respect this position if it's coming from a point of independence rather than for a different man. I love her regaining agency over the direction of her life!

HOWEVER. HOWEVER. AGATHA. GIRL. YOU HAVE NO INCOME. WILD OF YOU TO DENY ALL SAFETY NETS FOR YOUR SURVIVAL

"You make him happy. Thank you, your Majesty." This is the closest thing to a compliment Charlotte will ever receive from her mother-in-law

This show is pretty bittersweet, given all that we know becomes of the Queen and King in the future

Shout-out to Brimsley and Reynold's relationship for being the saving grace of this show

Hahahaha Charlotte finally gets her one (1) legitimate grandchild after 50 ones that she does not care to know about

"I only did not wish to place my burdens on top of your own." Agatha 💞

"I suggest your shift your fear into faith and come to us with your concerns directly. To do otherwise would suggest we are incapable of addressing them." Charlotte is such a good Queen

Charlotte said: Your mum WAS right about my child-bearing hips!

"I believe you should leave the hats where they are. They are lovely. As you say, cheerful." This is as close as Lady Danbury will come to acknowledging the dad-fucking

GEORGE NOW BEING THE ONE TO JOIN CHARLOTTE UNDER THE BED. THEMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM

"Your line will live on." "Our line." "Our line." Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

The splicing between the young version of George and Charlotte and their younger selves. This is really getting to my heart.

"You did not go over the wall." "No George, I did not go over the wall." I'M GOING TO CRY, THIS IS MY FAVOURITE OF THE BRIDGERTON SEASONS 😭😭😭 ROMANCE!!

#ayesha says things #liveblogging #ayesha liveblogs bridgerton #ayesha liveblogs queen charlotte #bridgerton spin-off spoilers #bridgerton #qcabs

[alak-tool-the-dorkblade]

Whenever I've heard people talk about having a moment of clarity, I always imagined it as sort of fanfic-style, with eyes widening and a small 'oh' of understanding.

A few weeks ago, I had my moment of clarity, not for the first time either, but this time it really sank in, and it was nothing like fanfiction. It was ugly; I was crying and trying to forget what I had realized because it meant that I was going to have to upend my life, that I was going to have to feel emotions I hate, and that I would have to hurt the ones I love.

I've spent the last month pretending it didn't happen, but it's been bubbling underneath the surface, throwing me into disordered thinking of self-loathing and suicidal ideation, where it was literally all I could think about for days on end. I haven't been able to go on walks, bike rides, or anything that leaves me alone with my thoughts.

I've self-medicated with low-dosage edibles, but that was just slapping a Band-Aid on an open wound.

It came to a head last night after two straight days of suicidal ideation. I opened the door to the possibility of returning to my home country, and I don't think I've ever felt so relieved.

I know that I'm going to have to deal with adversity, that I'm going to have to do a lot of hard work to get myself back to where I was before I moved.

The last time I had one of these 'realizations' was near the end of 2017, and it came with an emotional breakdown as well.

In early 2018, I went home for a month, and I felt so alone. I was curled up on my brother's couch, crying, and missing everyone I had left in California.

I swore that I wouldn't leave again, that I would do my best to always stay in California, where I was comfortable and content.

I think one of the differences between now and then is that I am more emotionally mature. Another difference is that I am not in constant agony from having my nerves compressed between two discs. The pain will still show up, and I need to take breaks, but it isn't as bad as it used to be, which I felt made me dependent on my Californian family

I'm going to visit my brother in December and see if that feeling comes back because no matter where you go, there you are.

Am I what is making myself miserable, or has it been my situation?That I've been trapped in a dead-end job with no room for advancement? My visa doesn't permit me to go to school (the cost of post-secondary education in the US doesn't allow it either); it doesn't permit me to apply for all sorts of benefits, nor does it allow me to apply for a green card.

I've been static for the last decade. I've certainly had emotional growth, but nothing else. I haven't been able to step forward or backward. I can move laterally, but I can't grow in any way (except in weight).

It's only been a day, but I've felt so much lighter. I've been thinking about all the things I can do back in Canada: go to the doctor and get my spine looked at, have a place to myself, enjoy the cold and snow, go to school, and start a new career path. I feel like I am regaining control.

I'm afraid I'll end up alone in the dark, crying for my California family, because I do love them, but I can't just tread water anymore; I need to swim towards the shore.

P.T. Barnum said that comfort is the enemy of progress, and he's right. I've been comfortable and content. I've been lazy. I've been happy to do nothing, except I don't think I've actually been happy. I've enjoyed not working my tail off for a boss that doesn't appreciate me and pays me a pittance, but now it's time to be responsible again. I need to see my family, visit my grandmother before I no longer can, get back into shape, and make a change. I want to help and advocate for people; I want to talk to whatever MP I will have and try to make a positive change somehow. I'm ready to be uncomfortable again.

When I had my moment of clarity last month, I couldn't imagine ever feeling relieved or excited; I thought I would only be scared.

I cannot emphasize just how chilling it is to have a moment of clarity; it feels like jumping into a frozen lake. There's the initial shock as it hits you, but then you're left shivering and trying to recover from the shock.

I hope I won't have another moment of clarity once I've moved back.

#personal #journal entry #cw suicide mention #cw drug use mention

[anotherghoul666]

Ask game! I'm being nosey, you can pick and choose if this is too many! 💙💙💙

07: What did you last eat?

17: Ever made out in the bathroom?

23: Do you have piercings? How many?

56: How many people have you fist fought?

57: Do you believe in true love?

Please, you can be as nosey as you want to be with me! ❤️

07: What did you last eat? Some christmas dinner leftovers from my life partner's family! There was a sort of pastry crown filled with veggies, deviled eggs, meatballs in a tomato sauce, little sausages in a garlic sauce, and rolled sandwiches :) I'm also 2.5 water bottles in out of my 4 for the day! (edit: 3 by the time I'm done writing this, woot!)

17: Ever made out in the bathroom? Oh sure! When I was a teen we'd sneak off to the gym locker room and bathrooms to make out cause we had nowhere else to go do that in XD One of the reasons me and my partner rent in our current place is cause the bathroom is huge and there's a massive corner bath in there (don't ask me how we got so lucky, we signed pre-pandemic and we're never leaving until we get a house) so that's a regular play space for us which includes making out hahaha. I've not done the whole "so overtaken by passion we gota stumble in a public bathroom stall in the club and have it right there" cliché tho XD

23: Do you have piercings? How many? I have 3 in my right ear. I got he first two at the same time at 15, it went horribly wrong, I got the third one maybe a year later to see if I could change my healing methods and have an easier time, it went even more horribly wrong and re-infected the first two, I fucking managed to heal them with the help of my professionals but like, I learned my lesson. My body hates the process of piercings and healing them. Probably some sensitivity or allergy since I am allergic to half of the world basically. I've found my body heals tattoos very well instead so that's the route I took!

56: How many people have you fist fought? So I'll assume this is a question about legit fights and not rough body play / impact? XD I have gotten beat up before, but I've never punched someone or laid a hand on someone non-consensually. I'll take hits and get someone else to take care of the attacker, ideally someone that's legally permitted to do that and paid for it, before I'd ever lift a hand to punch. Not in my nature.

57: Do you believe in true love? This ties in with an earlier question I got about soulmates somewhat but, what does "true" mean in that context. People use that expression to mean "the one true person you'll have true love with in your life" as opposed to everyone else you had feelings for before, and I reject that thought. I believe in love. I believe in abundance and in the plenty. I believe feelings are true because they are felt, emotions are valid because they exist, and so every spike and shred and blip of love I've ever felt has been true for me in that moment and for the whole universe because I am part of it and I am real. Love is true because it is in that moment and if in the moment after it's withered or tempered or false or painful it was still true when it bloomed.

Thank you Mibo those were wonderful!! :D

#asks

[blackvail22]

9/24/23 — 1:10am

theres a lot that happened within the past two days its insane. on the 22nd, i had to train this new associate for the whole day. he's rlly nice, and he's fun to talk to. he caught on really quick! im excited to work with him

also, that same day, i got back with my ex!!! it could be a dumb decision (because this is the 3rd time) but i really want things to work out. again, no one is going to know besides you... and... my coworkers, but thats different

the coworker that gave me his number, he gave me a note at work that says "im awkward so i dont know how to say this out loud, but i like you" and then taped a soda tab on it (it was the "hug" meaning one, which... i dont like but could be worse). so! ive told the new associate i have a boyfriend. im going to tell them i have a boyfriend, but im telling those im closest to at work that its because i dont want my worker to hit on me anymore

if he keeps going after that, i have to report him. im not letting someone get away with that, not this time.

i have to start standing up for myself... im just scared because of that teenager who got killed because she rejected her (adult) co-worker, im afraid its going to be me. this is the reason i dont like hearing abt death.

on another note, back to abt my boyfriend....

im writing this as soon as i ended the call with him. i miss him already. i wonder how and why my brain changes how i react to things because of a label. i feel so clingy. i want to talk to him more. he does make me happy, and i hope i make him happy too

oh, i also bought this candle... its supposed to "smell like london" and it says the scent is "afternoon biscuits and tea" so thats nice. i bought it to think of you, nd its nice that the color of the candle matches my room

oh last thing ! i took my permit drivers test and i passed it! feels so surreal because i never thought i was ever gonna end up driving but here we are lol

anyways i like this song

6:06am —

dude i couldnt fall asleep until like 4:30am and my mom woke me up at 5:30, screaming at me to find something i didnt have!!! i found it! and it was in her bag, a place she didnt look (because she only looked one place!!!!!!) at least i can sleep now, but idek if i can do that because i feel awake now. im going to sob. FUVKKK I HAVE A HEADACHE AND SINUS PAIN NOW IM GOING TO CRY DUDE. and the fact that she walked up the stairs to scream at me (she never walks up the stairs)???? ooo. im so mad bro! like im going to wake up whenever i have my alarms set and im going to punch a wall because i cant sleep without getting interrupted. IM PISSED TF OFF NOW bevause i havent had adequate sleep since my last off day (a week ago) and i dont have a lot of sleep for tomorrow because i have to wake up at 6am for an appointment thats 2hrs away. sure, ill sleep in the car, but with my mom? she wont let it happen. and i dont have another off day untl thursday, and i cant sleep in for that one either becahse i have another goddamn appointment in the morning. like, is this what being an adult is? being harrassed by coworkers, never having enough sleep, never able to fall asleep.... it cant be cause those all haopened when i was a teenager too. stuck in that cycle, though, and i cant wait for that cycle to finally end.

bad things always tend to happen to me. is it because i bring bad energy? AHHHHHHH i just need to scream cry

i am going to try to sleep now. I've rambled on for way too long

11:17pm

been incredibly sad today. i think it was my lack of sleep, or maybe it was my mom yelling at me and waking me up. still, my heart feels so ... heavy. i cant help but feel bad for people who love me. if i was them, i would choose anyone else to love endlessly. im undeserving of it all, anyway. i dont feel happy tonight. i hope tomorrow's better. i dont know what changed and made me feel this way because when i woke up and went to work, everything was fine until half way through my shift. it didnt really effect me, but them saying "oh, fun's over.. [my name]'s in a bad mood again.. everyone get away" keeps playing in my mind. it didnt affect me then, so i dont know why i keep thinking about it

i just want to fit on my roof and look at the moon, but its been rising really early so i dont think ill be able to see it now. ill watch some livestreams from space of the earth/the moon instead. something to comfort me while listening to music. i havent been able to watch any videos all the way through recently.. havent even been able to watch those gaming streams i like. hopefully ill feel better before i go to sleep

#Spotify

[blossomingbellflower]

Does it ever cross your mind that you'll pass on before Sesshomaru, and does that make you feel guilty at all that you'll leave him grieving for who knows how many decades/centuries?

SEND ❓+ A QUESTION AND MY MUSE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO ANSWER TRUTHFULLY || @fightingthetides

"Of course it has. It was one of the many things I pondered over before giving him my decision." Kikyou was not one to typically make a reckless decision. She considered all sides--once time permitted it.

"It is an unfortunate inevitable..one that we are both cognizant of. However, whether I had chosen not to be with him, it will not erase the pain. Perhaps it would be significantly less..who is to say. The only way the grief possibly could have been avoided in its entirety..is if fate had not allowed us to meet again."

While she was happy to have find him and regained her memories..Kikyou knew that all too soon they will be parted. Either by life's unpredictable nature or by old age as per the natural laws governing humanity. In the end, it was horribly painful to envision leaving him alone. Kikyou did not wish for it. If she could, she would remain at his side until it was time for BOTH of them to go.

Alas, she was not a demon and he was not a human. They were two different species..and with their love, came eventualities that they had to accept..no matter how bitter or saddening it was.

"And I would not have used guilt to describe it. Guilt would imply there is something I can do to change it..that it is something I am doing on purpose. No. It is more of a helpless fury, anguish, melancholy and frustration. I do not wish for him to suffer..but when you love..you also experience the consequences of it."

But yes, Kikyou did hold strong, complicated mix of emotions regarding her ultimate demise. Leaving him to face the centuries alone in his grief..tore at her heart on the days her darker thoughts and worries took the forefront of her mind.

"All I can do for him..is to provide as much happiness in the time that we have. Waste not a second on foolishness. Time is limited and I will give him all that I can in that time frame."

#||ic|| #||future canon verse|| #fightingthetides #fangsofdestruction

[mrkcore]

𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐥.𝐦𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: mark lee x gn!reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: idol!mark, established relationship

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: angst + fluff (comfort)

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): insecure reader, depiction of a panic attack

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 0.8k

𝐚/𝐧: this was a request from an anon from a very long time ago, and i finally got around to finish it (if you're reading this, tysm for the kind words <3). hope you all enjoy :D (it’s been a while since ive written for mark eheh)

you don’t know what got into you today.

maybe it was because you’re looking in the mirror too hard. maybe it’s because mark is getting busier and busier. maybe it’s because you’re thinking too much.

but your head and heart can’t stop throbbing.

you know it’s not mark’s fault. it’s his job and he gave you a fair warning about this when you confessed to him and started dating. but you can’t help it, he’s too perfect.

there are so many other girls and guys that are prettier, more handsome, stronger, skinnier, more talented, overall just perfect. and mark is collaborating with all of them, seeing them at music shows, having schedules with them, spending time with them.

and that makes your head pound even harder.

can you even compete? does mark even like you anymore? will he leave you for someone better? maybe you should leave first before it hurts too much when he leaves.

you look outside and it’s already really late, and the time on your clock tells you you’re right.

2:33 AM.

mark’s schedule should have ended 50 minutes ago, he’s usually never this late without telling you.

is today the day? where mark tells you that he doesn’t love you anymore?

you can’t breathe.

your body crashes to the floor but you’re too numb to feel any pain in your legs. your lungs feel like they’re filled with thick air and you’re gasping for air as tears are flooding your eyes. your ears are ringing and you can’t make it stop.

“yn?”

and suddenly the ringing is gone.

your tears falling down your face and your eyes are red as you turn to see mark crouching beside you, his practice bag forgotten at the front door.

“it’s so late, why aren’t you in bed?” the worry on his face makes the tears fall again. “hey, hey. what happened? did you fall? are you okay?”

he’s wiping the tears off your face as they keep coming, and pulls you into his chest.

“why are you home so late?” your breathing is still laboured and you’re still sniffling.

“i was going to let you know but my phone died.” he’s stroking your hair, but it’s making your heart clench even more. “got a new schedule. i’ll be mcing for music core with mina from gugudan and we were just discussing some stuff.”

your heart stops.

see, you called it.

“baby, why are you crying again?” the genuine concern in mark’s voice makes you feel guilty but your emotions are overflowing your mind.

“you’re going to leave me, aren’t you?” you cry into his chest.

“what? baby,” mark caresses your face while you look up at him, eyes still misty. “did it happen again?”

“she’s probably so much prettier and more talented than me.” you sob as you try to hide yourself into his chest again.

“hey, look at me.” mark grabs your chin with his fingers so you face him. “i’m dating you for a reason. i love you, you, you’re all i need. i chose you because you’re beautiful, talented, loving, caring, and you’re just the kindest soul ever. who cares if there are people who are better than you, because the only person i want is you. you’re the one i want to spend my life with. so have a bit of faith in me, alright?”

you feel so guilty. 

“i’m sorry.” your head hangs.

“no, no, don’t be. it’s alright.” his chest is so comfortable. “just remember that i love you so much and you’re the only person ever in my life that i’ve ever thought of a future with, spending my days with you while we get old, and i’m too much of a grandpa to show up on stage dancing.”

you fight back a laugh.

“are you laughing at me?” mark glares at you.

“no…” but your laughter can’t be contained.

“alright, how about i wash up and get changed and we can go to bed?” mark kisses your forehead as he stands up. “how does that sound?”

you nod your head as his arm wraps around you as you guys make your way to the bathroom.

as he’s washing up, he’s talking about his day, practicing, and how the latest comeback is going. he’s very excited to promote with the dreamies again, but you can tell he’s more tired, even though he’s always insisting he’s fine.

“i know i’ve said this, but i’m really sorry about today.” you’re burying yourself into his chest again when you guys are in bed.

“you know i’ve said this, never apologize, it’s okay, don’t worry, it could happen to everyone. sometimes i worry about losing you, so don’t be sorry. you can always come and talk to me about anything that’s bothering you.” his hand strokes your hair and he’s looking at you lovingly as you look up at him. “and always remember that i love you so, so, so, so, so much. it’s only you, you’re the one i want, forever and ever, until the day i die.”

he kisses your forehead as you fall asleep cozily in his arms.

i’d really like some feedback so feel free to reblog or comment anything  :D

send in an ask or comment here to be added to the oneshots taglist!

© mrkcore. 2021 — reposts of my work is not permitted.

#dreamwritersnet #nctcreations #nct-writers #cznnet #nct writing #nct 127 writing #nct dream writing #nct dream #nct #nct dream angst #nct angst #nct 127 angst #mark lee #nct mark #nct mark scenarios #nct mark fics #nct mark oneshots #nct dream oneshots #nct dream smut #jaehyun smut #nct mark imagines #nct smut #mark angst #mark fluff #nct mark fluff #mark scenarios #mark oneshots #mark writing #mark imagines #nct dream scenarios

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 4

Chapter 3

Warning: mention of torture? Light victim blaming, Lucifer, Satan, and Beel commit murder.

“I see,” Diavolo had a contemplative look on his face. The demon lord, often seen with a jovial, bright smile plastered upon his face, now had replaced it with a more serious look as Lucifer explained just what had happened to his brother. “And you’re positive this is what happened to Mammon?”

“Asmo is certain enough that he would stake his title as Avatar of Lust on it.” Satan spoke up.

“I see, if that’s the case then I will permit you up to the human world to pay these women a visit. Make sure they suffer, all three of you.” The warmth in his voice, his eyes, now replaced with a cold tone and a wrathful look, absolutely enraged that a demon not just under his rule, but in his cabinet no less had been assaulted in this manner. He may have failed in protecting the Avatar of Greed from this but he would see to it that a crime this grave never happened again to one of his subjects. “I’d would go in your stead to deal with them myself, but I will stay behind and work to pass legislation to ban the making of pacts freely. This will not happen again; I swear it on my life and my throne.”

And with Diavolo’s permission the three Avatars were off, out for blood for the travesty that befell their brother. Once they were gone, Diavolo turned to his butler.

“Barbatos, did you foresee this at all? Was there not anything we could have done differently to prevent this?” For as angry as he is, the demon lord feels a certain sense of guilt for what happened to the white-haired demon. What kind of ruler cannot protect one of his subjects from something so heinous?

“In another reality, yes.” He nodded, “But never in this one specifically, my Lord.”

“What happens next?”

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The three Avatars stand outside the residence of the witches. Lucifer is the first to step forward, demon form manifesting from the wrath coursing through his being. The aura he emits is suffocating to all around him. A knock on the door is all the courtesy he plans to give them tonight.

When the door opens, there is a collective gasp.

“L-Lord Lucifer,” One of the sisters steps back as the three demons barge their way inside the building. “To what do we owe the honor of this visit from not only you, but your younger brothers as well?”

“Do not. DO NOT ACT AS IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO OUR BROTHER!” Satan roars, his demon for making its appearance. He’s ready to go on the attack however it’s Lucifer that stops him with a simple wave of the hand.

“We know everything you’ve done.” The eldest’s voice is cold, gaze calculated. “You’ve not only laid a hand on one of my brothers, but my favorite one at that. That in and of itself is enough to warrant your deaths, but to cause him such suffering will ensure they are not quick.

With another wave of his hand, the Avatar of Pride bound the three women before letting his brothers have a go at the other two. The eldest was his.

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Asmo took a step into his brother’s room and was devastated to see the look on his brother’s face. He looked so broken; his cheeks soaked with tears as Asmo heard Arella speaking.

“You don’t have to do it if you’re not strong enough for it. I’m sure there are alternatives we could find if you can’t. Just remember, you’re not alone in this. We all will help you if you decide to go through with this.”

The demon’s curiosity was piqued. Just what we’re they talking about?

“’Rella, I can’t ask that of any of you. This is my punishment for bein’ so powerless.”

Asmodeus cleared his throat to gain her their attention.

“What are you two talking about? Did something else happen?”

Arella only picked up the phone and handed it to him. What he saw was enough to pull a gasp from the demon. It made him sick.

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As soon as it had begun, the torture was over. None of the three brothers had even broken a sweat at this point. The witches hadn’t even lasted that long. Blood and viscera coat the floor, bones stick out from odd places, one has pieces missing from her body here and there- bite marks and missing flesh, even a missing arm- all courtesy of the Avatar of Gluttony.

“Beel, are you hungry or has anger tided your hunger?”

“I'm famished,” The Avatar of Gluttony confirmed.

“Go ahead and dispose of their bodies then. Make sure no trace of them remains.” The Avatar of Pride nods to his younger brother.

It was then that they heard it- the screaming cry of a frightened baby. The sound was easy to miss over the shrieking and wailing- the pleas for mercy that would never come. One by one, their heads turned to the sound just upstairs as they all came to terms with the fact that a child had been born from this travesty.

Satan was the first to move as he climbed the stairs. Just off to the right was a tiny nursery and lying in the crib, he found the child. All of his instincts were screaming at him to do away with the infant. He almost did had it not been for Lucifer’s hand placed on his shoulder. They were soon joined by Beel as all three of them peered down at the tiny child below them.

“What do we do?” Beel asked.

“Do we take them with us? Or do we leave them to the proverbial wolves?”

Both brothers looked to the eldest, demanding an answer. For the first time, the Avatar of Pride doesn’t have the answer. Does he take the life of an innocent child or does he subject his brother to a lifetime of suffering? It's an impossible decision to make where either party ultimately loses in the end.

Lucifer reaches down and takes the infant into his arms, a pained look on his face as he scrutinizes the infant’s appearance. Suddenly, he’s flashing back to his time as an angel, back to the first time he ever held Mammon in his arms. The child is an exact carbon copy of their father, no apparent features from his mother or her sisters, this was the best case scenario, but the little one looks sickly- likely due to the lack of demonic influence that would have been received from their father had he been present during the pregnancy.

Finally, after remaining silent for what felt like eternity Lucifer spoke up. “The child doesn’t look long from this world. We’ll wait for morning. If they survive the night, we’ll take them with us- let Mammon decide what to do with them.”

The other two nodded as Beel went back downstairs to finish the meal he had started.

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“You don’t have to take him, Mammon.” Asmo kept staring at the photo on his brother’s D.D.D. as he spoke.

“He has no one else, Asmo,” The white-haired demon frowns. “I can’t just leave him to die and it’s not like I can just give ‘im away either. As much as I hate it, he’s the heir to everything I am- the next Avatar of Greed, the next ruler of the fourth layer. It’ll be hard at first, but I’ll force myself to look past what happened to me. This isn’t his fault, so why punish him for the crimes of his mother and her sisters? He’s innocent in all this.”

“Even now,” the Avatar of Lust chuckled sadly, “after all these years, you still have the heart of an angel, don’t you? You aren’t thinking about what this will do to you, are you? He’ll be a constant reminder of your trauma. Is that really fair to you?”

“It isn't, but when has life ever been fair? If life was fair, we wouldn’t ’ve lost Lilith- wouldn't ‘ve fallen from the Celestial Realm.” He wiped at his eyes.

“No. It’s not, but I still think this is a bad idea for you. None of us will stop you if this is what you want to do but you shouldn’t do it just out a sense of obligation.” Asmo placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “You should only keep him if you want to.”

At the look of resignation on Mammon’s face, Arella placed a hand on his back. “We’re here if you need us. If it gets to be too much, I can help care for him, okay?” She echoes the words she had said previously.

“Babe, you don’t-”

“I know I don’t, but I want to.” She smiled softly. “We’re in this together. All of us.” She looked to the strawberry blonde demon as he nodded in agreement.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Satan sat in the rocking chair next to the crib while Lucifer was on the phone notifying Diavolo of the situation as well as speaking to Arella in regards to the baby. He studied his nephew, wondering just what might happen to the little boy. Over the hours since finding him here, the tiny half-demon seemed to be getting stronger- likely from just being in the presence of his brothers and him. It was apparent that the child would be coming with them. He wondered what his brother’s reaction would be to the infant. Demons were known to kill unwanted offspring out of panic.

It was the circle of life, the blonde supposed. Not what the child deserved, but if it led to that, there was really nothing anyone could do. He was drawn from his thoughts as quiet chirps sounded from the boy. He watched as the infant brought his little hand to his mouth and he started squirming in the mass of blankets he was swaddled in.

The Avatar of Wrath looked around for a bottle or really anything that could be a source of nourishment. Of course, the newborn would get hungry eventually- that's essentially all babies at this age, eat and sleep. The demon finally finds a mini fridge on the wall opposite the crib, right next to the changing table. He had never fed a baby before but he would be willing to try as long as it kept the boy satisfied and kept him from crying. A trial by fire as they say.

Rocking the infant carefully, he slowly got up and retrieved a bottle from the fridge. It was a lot smaller than he thought an infant should take but it was good enough for the time being. Thankfully there was a bottle warmer placed on a nightstand near the crib. He placed it inside, setting the temperature at that of a human’s normal body temperature. When the milk was sufficiently heated, he gave it to the child who then suckled it down rather quickly,

“Hey now, there’s no need to suck it down so fast. You'll choke if you’re not careful.”

Lucifer had rejoined at him at this point. The scene of his brother trying so hard to feed the baby almost made him chuckle. “I can take him, if you’d like, Satan.”

“Please, I really don’t know how to do this.” He pulled the bottle away so he could transfer the child to his older brother.

“It won’t be long until the dawn. Gather up some of his things as we’ll be taking him with us. I just got off the phone with Arella. She told me Mammon plans on keeping the him.” Lucifer only sighed, wondering if the Avatar of Greed was only doing this out of a sense of obligation and responsibility.

Green to yellow gradient eyes widen in surprise at the statement. “He’s planning on keeping him? I figured he wouldn’t want anything to do with the baby.”

“As did I but, for all of our brother’s flaws, he’s still genuinely a good person. I don’t think he can really leave behind someone who needs him- especially an innocent child.” Lucifer looks down at the child who has now finished the bottle. “Hand me a rag.”

“Why?”

“Well, I would prefer not to be spat up on and now that he’s finished eating, he needs to be burped.” The eldest moved the infant to rest against his shoulder as Satan handed him the nearest rag he could find. “Babies aren’t capable of burping on their own. Now, go gather his things. I’ll tend to him for the time being."

Next

Masterlist 2

#dead dove do not eat #tw: torture but not described #tw: victim blaming #lucifer and co commit murder #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me! shall we date? #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #mammon angst #obey me oc #arella

[butwhatifidothis]

So. Took a look into that fic @nilsh13 is going through the comments of. Dunno if I’ll actually go through the entire thing - 300k words is certainly a lot of words to read through, especially with it still updating, but I’ve read through/am reading through longer ones - but I jumped to the latest chapter to get a feel for where the fic’s at now.

I’m not halfway through the chapter and I have Words To Say lmao, under the cut

This is going to be as serious a critique about the sections I’ve selected as possible - I want to be clear why I think what is being written is not of high quality, pointing out specifically what I have wrong with it. 

Here are some snippets of the fic (boldened), and following those snippets are my thoughts on them:

“My actions have caused immense turmoil, pitting friend against friend, mother against daughter, and brother against sister*,” muttered Edelgard, desperately trying to drive any hint of self-pity (emphasis mine) from her voice. “My best friend has been disowned by her family, Hubert and Ferdinand’s fathers are dead or imprisoned, and the woman I love is now deemed a heretic by the Church that once offered her shelter. The weight of my decisions seems to pull down all who are caught in the shadow of the Imperial crown.” The Flame Emperor gave Professor Hanneman a wan smile. “Whatever imagined slights you believe you have committed against me, they pale in comparison to the carnage my own words and deeds have unleashed.” 

""I made my choice, the only choice I could make, and dragged this continent down to hell with me. It makes me a poor ruler, and an even baser person, but that was the path I knew I must take."" 

“"It is funny you use the word ‘choice’, Miss Edelgard. When I resigned my title to study at Garreg Mach, I lost marriage prospects, became penniless outside of a small stipend…I even renounced the opportunity to have a family.” Hanneman smiled, his whole body suffused with melancholy. “Really, how could I dare to dream of bringing a daughter into a world this senseless and cruel, knowing that someday, she too, could be hurt in such a way? I…I would not survive it.” The man’s body shook. “I sacrificed those things, things I desperately wanted, because the chance to allow my sister to rest in peace was more important. And I would make that choice again, despite all that it has cost me. You are much the same.”"

"“But your sacrifices were your own,” protested the Emperor of Adrestia. “Thousands bleed for the choices that I have made, and sacrifice themselves for the cause that I have placed before them. There is a profound difference-“"

"“We are both wise enough to know a painful truth,” said the scholar with a melancholy smile. “No matter how grave the sins, no matter how many innocents suffer…there will be countless individuals who will defend the law not because it is just, or righteous, but because it is the law. They will permit a hundred Abysses, and a thousand women to be raped, and a million dead children, as long as such actions do not disturb their order.” He placed a hand on Edelgard’s shoulder. “To stand against such moral rot, knowing that the world will despise and vilify you for it, is the truest sign of not only a just ruler, but a good woman.”"

"The academic’s words blazed with the passion of both a scholar and a man who had watched his world crumble to ash. A man who had been forced to live in the remnants of a life forever altered by the cruelty of both society and of humanity. And yet he had fought, the only way he could, to make the world better. It gave the Flame Emperor new resolve."

"“I…” He turned and looked away. “I believe in you, Miss Edelgard. When I see you, and your determination, your spirit, your bravery in choosing not what is easy, but what is right…it reminds me of her.” Fingers clenched around his locket. “I will fight for you, in the way I should have fought for my sister, long ago. My strength is meagre, and my courage more meagre still. However, all of it is yours.”" 

The author writes Edelgard as one trying to give pity onto herself for her actions, despite how negatively they affect her, due to the immense ramifications those actions have had on those both around her and those under her care. This is the appropriate response to someone who has done as morally dubious an action as starting and spearheading a war that has led to the deaths and suffering of countless innocent people, some of whom were undoubtedly already going through immense suffering without war compounding itself onto their already existing pain. She - rightfully - points as, as a negative towards herself, that she has forced thousands of people to sacrifice their lives, livelihoods, friends, family, homes, etc. in order to continue with her war. Edelgard's canonical self-justification - that she had no other choice to do this - is properly utilized, and further characterization is given to her when she herself recognizes that performing such horrendous actions on the people under her care makes her a poor ruler and terrible person. This is, in truth, a decent set-up for her to go onto a possible path of redemption or self-realization.

However, that progress is forcibly stopped and reverted by Hanneman justifying her actions and recontextualizing them in a morally good light. In fact, the entire story does this, as characters act wildly out of character in order for Edelgard to be seen as good in comparison to them. Focusing on the quoted lines, however, Hanneman relating him giving up nobility and going into momentary poverty - whether true to canon or not - to Edelgard's war actively paints her actions as something that she had a right to be making, which she does not, as they force others to make sacrifices for her cause. When she herself rightfully points this discrepancy out, Hanneman excuses her actions by pointing to another - supposed - source of turmoil and essentially saying "You are more right than x, therefore your y actions are not only better, but objectively good, and make you a good person." He says nothing of the inherent injustice of taking away the choice of the people to live as they want and fight for who they want as well as deliberately taking away any semblance of safety from them, and makes objective statements about Edelgard's moral righteousness despite her taking actions that would, by definition, make her moral righteousness a subjective matter at minimum.

Hanneman is projecting the image of his sister and his own personal sense of justice onto Edelgard, and thus sees her as just as much a victim of the war and society as everyone else. Edelgard is a young woman who has gone through trauma due to Crests, as was his sister, and he himself (in this story, though not within the quoted lines) wanted to beat the man who abused his sister to death, and so he sees Edelgard using violence as a means to achieve justice as not only not questionable, but morally good and brave, as he felt he was not brave enough to enact "justice" onto the man that caused his sister's death. Instead of this being settled, focused on, or even mentioned, despite its obvious nature due to deliberate connections Hanneman himself makes, it is used as a means to showcase that Hanneman is a, for lack of a better term, "expert" on what he is saying when speaking to Edelgard. He knows what it's like to want to force change, he has by-proxy experienced the apparent injustice of the Church - not human society, not his family's decision to allow his sister to be married off, not the man who caused her death's decision to discard her, but strictly the Church and only the Church - and so he can "rightfully" justify and excuse Edelgard's morally questionable actions and paint them in a solely positive light, with no nuance or gray whatsoever.

Edelgard, in the first quote, attempts to say her actions without a tone of self-pity, and yet the narrative itself pities Edelgard. She should be allowed to feel bad about her actions - not because they are causing unfathomable suffering on people who were underserving, but because they’re just hard decisions that she was good and brave to make and maybe she can feel a little bad for herself for making them. She shouldn't feel responsible for choosing to start the war - in fact, did she really have a choice, or did everyone else in society force her to? She shouldn't question whether she's a good person or not, because she simply is - no debate, no question. She is - “justly” - standing up against "moral rot"; that she does so with even more moral rot is irrelevant, because, according to the story, it is not as rotten as that she's up against, therefore it is no longer rotten in the first place. War has been completely justified, as it is now not the last resort of desperation that could only ever be morally grey at its absolute best, but an objectively morally white decision of an objectively morally white person who is facing an objectively morally black opponent.

The actions of other characters attempt to paint Edelgard as someone closer to the former, but I will - maybe - eventually go over how those characters are extremely mischaracterized in order to prop Edelgard as their moral superior. 

#anti edelgard #Anti-edelgard #Edelgard critical #o captain my captain #<- borrowing nilsh's tag for this lmao in case I do end up continuing this #but yeah from just the latest chapter there are characters that 100% cheerlead for the pure righteousness that is Edelgard #so yeah that's... gonna be fun lmao

[hello-everyfandom]

"For a moment, listen silently, what does your heart say?”

Warnings: N/A

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 4k

Summary: Suffering lovers and hearts to be mended and stitched back together

Part One “I love you more than the sky and the ground but I can’t do this anymore.”

Part Two “No, it’s over. She ended it.”

(This one is quite long! How hopes and dreams turn into the most painful writing one could ever print. Please, I wish for my own heart to mend as Sirius’ will.)

The next few weeks were nothing but tragic. Lily could barely get you out of your bed nevertheless to class. It seemed that the fight, the breakup, the hurting wore down your stamina until you were not able to stand. It was worse after the party. Before, you could numb the pain of losing Sirius by distracting yourself with rewriting notes and organizing your room. But after the party, after seeing the love of your life lip-locked with another girl, kissing her the way he should kiss you, something in you broke.

Lily sat gently on your bed, placing the cup of warm tea on your table. She whispered kindly, “We have class in an hour, you missed breakfast but I brought you a cuppa.” She moved the duvet that covered your face to see your innocent watering eyes looking up at her. She sighed and smoothed out your hair, feeling the shutters of cries leave your lips. “You need to go to class, Y/N. I can’t keep telling McGonagall you’re sick without her sending you to St. Mungos.” 

“I don’t want to go.”

“Think about it this way,” Lily continued to run her fingers through your hair. She was thankful she had been able to get you to take a warm shower yesterday and change your pajamas, “If you go, you get it done and over with. Then you can come back and we can lay in your bed all afternoon.”

“I’m tired.”

“That’s why I brought you tea. Come on, love, it’s really time to get up.” Lily said gently, pushing the duvet so it was only covering your torso. Instead of sitting up, you blinked back tears before sputtering out.

“I made a mistake, didn’t I?” you covered your mouth, clutching your eyes shut to let out a cry. “I made a mistake breaking up with him. I’m an idiot. I’m a fool.”

“No, no,” Lily cooed, moving your hand from your mouth and petting your cheek, “No, you didn’t. You did what you thought was right at the time.”

“Then why does it hurt so bad?”

Lily didn’t have the answer, she could only reply with the utmost sympathy, “because you still love him.”

“Get up, you sad sack of shit. We’ve got charms in twenty minutes.” James flung the covers off of Sirius. His nose wrinkled at the sight of crumpled tissues that littered his bed. “That’s disgusting. Those tissues better not be from what I think it’s from.”

“You’re a right prick,” Sirius tried to smile, his lips cracked and chapped. 

“You’re not staying in bed anymore, and frankly you smell like shit.”

“It’s true,” Remus chimed in, straightening his tie and his hair. 

“So what? Leave me here. I don’t want to go anyways.”

“Right. Listen, Pads, we’ve been kind to you for a while now, but now, and I say this as sweetly and as loving as I can, we’re getting quite sick of your sulking.” James rolled his eyes.

“Oh wow, thanks,” Sirius said sarcastically, buttoning his shirt up. “You really know how to rip the plaster off, yeah?”

“Maybe if we obliviate you, you’ll become yourself once more,” Remus said wittily.

“I’ll permit it if it allows my memory to forget kissing that girl at the party.” Sirius nearly threw up at the memory of that girl’s lips on his.

James shrugged, throwing a tie at Sirius, “Well, we mean it with love and we know the break up has been hard but-”

“But?”

“But we miss our friend.” Peter finished. Remus nodded in agreement.

“It’s not easy, is all,” Sirius mumbled after brushing his teeth. 

James slapped his hand on his shoulder and said confidently, “No, it’s not. But that’s why we’ll all go through it together, as brothers.” and swiftly lead him out of the dorm room.

As Lily locked her arms in yours and the two of you walked from the Great Hall to class, you were distracted by the open windows of the corridors. The courtyard, which had just been littered with brown, orange, and red leaves, set a moment of comfort in your bones. You always enjoyed autumn, mostly because it was in fall when Sirius had first told you he loved you. You shook that memory out of your mind and looked at the hallway instead. Coincidentally, much to both Sirius and your demise, the marauders and Lily had accidentally crossed paths with each other on the way to class. Eyes like magnets were drawn close together as Sirius looked at you with storming emotions. He looked as if he hadn’t slept, and if he did manage to close his eyes, nightmares in the forms of memories followed him. To be fair, you didn’t look all that right either. Though you didn’t have as prominent bags under your eyes, underneath your loose clothing was skin and bone. Your appetite had lost you and eating became difficult as most of the time you felt sick to even think about food. Sirius looked at you, lost and longing, and you stared with the same intensity, wishing to be in his arms, to sleep for years and kiss until the sun explodes.

“Ms. Y/L/N, will you please stay after class?” McGonagall’s voice rang out in her sharp tone. You froze and looked at Lily worriedly who shrugged.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry. Meet me in the common room after,” Lily whispered, squeezing your arm before leaving the classroom. It was loud and full of chatter from the students who excitedly were headed to dinner. You waited, pushing hair behind your ears nervously as the students collected their things and filed out of the room. Then, it was silent. You approached McGonagall’s office in the back of her classroom slowly, dreading whatever scolding she would give you. As you pushed open the door, you thought in your head quickly, you had handed in the homework, taken notes in class, raised your hand when asked a question, you couldn’t place anything you did particularly wrong and yet your palms began to sweat.

“Yes, Professor?” you asked with a small voice. McGonagall looked up from her desk and peered at you from her glasses. “Have I done something wrong?”

“Do you think you have done something wrong?”  

“I don’t reckon so, but I’m open to hearing any criticism if need be.” you focused on keeping your voice steady.

“Although, I’m sure you know the answer already, do you know what my particular job is here at Hogwarts?”

You bit your lip, “You’re a professor, perhaps one of the best ones here, of my favorites as well.”

“While I enjoy your compliment,” McGonagall sighed, “I am also the head of the Gryffindor house.”

“Yes, of course.” you nodded.

“And, with such a job comes the responsibility of looking after my students as if they were my own.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Professor.” 

“Sit, please, Ms. Y/L/N.” McGonagall motioned to the seat in front of her desk, a nice plush armchair with maroon velvet. “Despite the belief of my students, I do care, and I notice especially when a particular student seems out of place.” 

You sat on the edge of the seat and played with the threads of your sweater. “If it is my work that is not up to standard, I am sure I can revise or revisit whatever it is that has gotten low marks.”

“Your school work is hardly of the matter here,” Professor looked at the small girl in front of her. Once fiery and loud turned into a pebble on the floor. She admired and quite enjoyed having you as a student and took great pride in knowing you wore the Gryffindor sigil on your robes. But, like your friends, she had noticed an extreme change in demeanor in the past few weeks. “Are you doing alright, Y/N?” she asked kindly.

You looked up in surprise, “Yes, Professor. Though I will say, I will be disappointed if any of my homework or essays have been less than acceptable. I seem to be going through a little bit of a rough patch, I suppose.”

“I noticed,” you froze as McGonagall spoke, “Does this have anything to do with Mr. Black?”

“I-” you couldn’t think of an excuse. McGonagall put her hand up to stop your from speaking,

“Please, I may be older and I may be a teacher, but the students here seem to forget the Professors hear everything.”

You began to beg, “Professor, please, I promise whatever had happened will not affect my school nor my studies-”

She cut you off, “Have a biscuit, Y/L/N.” she motioned to the biscuit tin in front of her desk. When you showed signs of being wary, she opened the top of the tin and pushed it closer to you. Your hands shook as you took one and began to nibble on the edges.

“I do not speak of this, and I trust whatever I tell you and whatever you tell me stays in this office,” she started, you nodded furiously and she continued, “when I was younger, much much younger, perhaps about your age, I too fell in love.”

Your mouth fell agape.

“Dougal McGregor. I met him after my years at Hogwarts before I began my position at the ministry. It was, as most would say, a teenage love affair. We were much like you and Mr. Black. We argued senselessly, but we nevertheless loved each other. When he proposed, I was delighted. I accepted immediately.” your eyebrows rose to ask questions, however, McGonagall merely pushed the biscuit tin towards you again. You complied and took another.

“However, at the time, marriage between a muggle and a witch was proven more difficult than current times. Spouses of magical descent were forbidden to tell anyone of their skills in the wizarding world, and it. Well. The idea of living in a world without magic was unbearable. I had to make a decision.”

“What happened then, Professor?”

“I thought rejecting his proposal would be right for both of us, Dougal and I. I thought it was unfair to be kept in a magic-less marriage whilst Dougal would, in turn, be lied to every day. I made a decision and as a result,” her voice became low, almost sensitive, “I broke his heart and mine as well.”

“Oh Professor, I’m so sorry.”

“While it is in the past, I do think about him often. But, I suppose the feelings you are currently experiencing are what I felt when I left for the last time to London.”

“I see. Forgive me, Professor, why are you telling me this?” 

“Because I want you to know the consequences of decision making. The difference between truly thinking with your head and with your heart.” 

“Did you regret leaving?”

McGonagall pursed her lips in thought, the wrinkles shown prominently near her eyes, “Yes and no. I am overjoyed and proud to stand as the witch I am today. Becoming a professor and working with students, no matter how particularly unenjoyable some are, is a passion. However, it would be ignorant to say I did not frequently think about if I had stayed and married Dougal.”

“What happened to him?”

“I received a letter numerous months later, my mother had told me, Dougal married and was expecting his firstborn.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

“I find it humorous to sit here,” McGonagall gave you a wrinkled small smile.

“How so, Professor?”

“Because when I was heartbroken, the first person I told was my own teacher, you may know him now as Headmaster Dumbledore.”

“Really?” you asked in surprise.

“Yes, we sat here at my desk whilst I told him of my heartache. And now, I sit here, with my own favorite student, discussing hers.”

“I’m not sure if I would call it heartache, Professor,” 

“Then what would you call it?”

In class, Professor McGonagall was strict, sharp spoken. Instead, in her small office, she wore a sympathetic smile and her gaze was warm. You felt as though life and its troubles would cease their crimes against your broken heart the second you stepped in the room. But, still, you looked at her with lost sights, emotions swarming in pupils.

“I don’t think there is a word to describe it. All I know is I ache tremendously and nothing seems to fix this pit in my stomach. I. What do I do?” you begged for an answer.

“I’m afraid I cannot answer that. What I can say is, you’ve been thinking your entire life at Hogwarts with your head. You are a bright witch with a wonderful future ahead of her. You are hardworking and studious, and kind. But, you only seem to listen to your head for answers, you look for the logical position for your chess pieces. Stop your thinking. For a moment, listen silently, what does your heart say?”

Professor McGonagall looked at the time before sighing to herself, “I do suppose I’ve kept you too long, I trust you can find your way back to the common room?”

You nodded and stood, brushing off your skirt. “Of course. Thank you Professor for the biscuits. If it means anything, I’m sure Dougal loved you very much.”

“Y/L/N,” Professor called before you left, “You are welcome any time here, I was not lying when I said you were one of my favorite students.” 

You smiled back, “And I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of my favorite Professors.”

As you walked back to the Gryffindor common room, Professor McGonagall’s story repeated in your head, pounding against your brain and begging to be analyzed. If you thought carefully, letting go of Sirius was equivalent to McGonagall’s separation with Dougal. If you chose your studies and your career, Would you miss out on a life with your soulmate? There was no doubt in your mind that your heart belonged to a certain long-haired beloved. As the Fat Lady looked at you with great pity, you entered the common room, peaking around for Lily. The fire seemed to be the only source of warmth as it lit up the room, leaving shadows cast along the walls. You figured Lily must still be at dinner considering the common room was empty. You rubbed your tired eyes and sat on an armchair facing the fireplace. 

Sirius had decided wallowing was doing nothing but driving him across the wall. He threw a shirt over his shoulders and bounced down the stairs to meet the boys at dinner when he saw you. He could spot you from miles away even if he were blind to the bone. He recognized the old sweater you wore, one that had previously been owned by him. You loved the sweater despite threads coming loose and the smell of Sirius’ cologne fading away. He saw your hands curled up in fists, something you did when you were quite emotional or tired and the low messy bun you had pulled your hair into.

“I thought you were at dinner, Lils,” you spoke quietly, making him freeze. It had been so long, so many minutes and hours since he’d last heard your voice. “If you are here to drag me to the Great Hall, I have to decline as I’m morbidly exhausted from that emotional conversation with McGonagall.” 

Sirius attempted to find his voice, begging his vocal cords to say anything to you but all he could do was stand there, dumbfounded and aching to hear your voice once more. 

“Lily?” you expected to see your red-headed friend but instead made eye contact with him. “Oh.”

“Just Sirius,” he said awkwardly. You stood so you could face him, holding your hands in front of you.

You swallowed harshly and wished you had at least looked somewhat more manageable. “Sirius.”

“Y/N.” he answered. It was hushed, noiseless, painful. “Say something,” he begged.

“What do you want me to say, Siri?” he flinched when you used his nickname. You hadn’t even meant to use it, it just slipped off your tongue before you could realize it.

“Just. Say anything, yell at me, anything. Be angry at me!”

“Why would I be angry?” You weren’t angry. You were hurt.

“For...”

“For what?” you creased your eyebrows. 

“For kissing that girl at the party.”

You pursed your lips and Sirius only held sadness in his eyes. “Sirius...”

“I kissed another girl that wasn’t you, and it is absolutely tearing me apart. I want you to be angry with me.”

“I can’t.”

“Be mad! Yell at me!”

“Sirius,” you stopped him, putting a gentle, small hand on his arm, “We broke up.”

Sirius threw his arms in the air and ran a finger through his hair frustratedly, “that doesn’t make it okay.”

“Doesn’t it? We broke up,”

“No! It doesn’t because I told you, I promised you, I swore I would never kiss another person. I promised I was yours and yours only. And I am. I mean... I was.”

“Sirius, please,” you choked, “It’s hard enough to be around each other already.”

“Don’t you miss me? Miss us?” Sirius had to stop himself from gathering you in his arms and rubbing the small of your back. Biting your lip and eyes beginning to water, you said as quietly as you could,

“Of course I do. I miss you more and more every day. And yes, it... it hurt to see you with that Ravenclaw girl, but it doesn’t matter. We aren’t dating anymore.”

“I don’t know. I think.” He laughed humourlessly, as if the air escaping his lungs were nearly painful to feel, “I think I would’ve gone mental if I had seen you kissing someone.”

“I...” you stopped and sighed. You sat down on the couch, moving slightly to the left. Sirius looked cautiously before sitting next to you, facing you as you looked towards the fire. 

“We can still talk, can’t we? We used to talk all night until Moony would shush us like an old librarian.”

“I don’t know, Sirius. It’s hard. Isn’t it? It’s hard.”

“I know. But, I miss talking. Won’t you just tell me how you’re doing?”

You debated on lying, telling him you were fantastic, but something in you begged you to tell the truth even if it felt like magma on your tongue. “I’m not doing well.”

“Are you stressed about school? I’ve told you many times, you’re the smartest witch in our year, I doubt you have anything to worry about.”

“That’s not it.” you bit your lip, turning from the fire to look at those eyes you so deeply longed for.

“Then what?”

“It’s difficult.”

“Try me.”

“It’s difficult... with us, or without us, I should say.”

Sirius slightly flinched hearing those words and swallowed harshly, “I get the feeling.”

“How have you been?” you asked curiously, studying the way his eyebrows creased and his fingers threading through his hair.

“Same as you, I suppose.”

“Really?”

“Prongs and the boys, they’ve been on my back lately. Say I’ve been moping too much, I’m a downer it seems.”

You giggled under your breath and wrapped your arms around yourself, “Lily says the same. Though, I guess she’s just worried.”

“Worried?”

“I haven’t been sleeping as well, I’m sure you’ve noticed the bags under my eyes,”

“No,” Sirius said truthfully, “I think you still look as beautiful as ever.”

Your lungs stopped breathing, every airway and vein in your body closed as you began to shut down. You stood abruptly and began racing towards the dorm staircase.

“Stop!” Sirius shouted making you freeze, your hand still on the banister. “Stay. Talk to me.”

You wiped angry tears from your face that you didn’t even notice dripped down your cheeks, “And say what? It. it’s torturous, it’s beyond excruciating to be around you.” You thought about your chat with McGonagall, begging your heart to speak, scream anything to make to stop your head from making decisions.

Sirius’ lips frowned, hurt at your tone and your words. “Baby...”

“No! I. It’s too difficult.”

“Why?”

“Because when I look at you, when I see you, when I feel you around me, everything tells me I’ve made a mistake. Is that what you wanted to hear? I made a mistake. I fucked up. I fucked up because I was terrified of us. I was scared of driving you away, scared of you deciding you didn’t love me anymore. And I can’t. I can’t do it! I can’t. I made a mistake.” you spat out breathlessly. Sirius watched in horror as you began to hyperventilate and dove to put his arms around you. He had seen your panic attacks and held you through every one, but this time it felt different. Your breathing began to rapidly increase as you couldn’t hold back broken sobs. 

“Breathe, breathe, love. It’s okay. It’s all okay.” he held your face in his hands, cupping your cheeks like he used to. Your eyes searched his desperately for any buoy that could save you from the drowning you felt. As he blinked, you found your life vest, holding on for dear life as you breathed fresh air into scattered lungs.

“Breathe, okay? ‘M right here, not going anywhere.” he whispered low, kissing your forehead and wiping your tears.

“I’m sorry.” you sobbed, “I made a mistake. I love you. I do. I’m so sorry. What have I done? I love you. I love you more than anything, and I’ve ruined it all.” you threw yourself at him, arms gripping tightly as he caught you. Sirius’ arms snaked around yours, pulling you back to life, back to the earth. He was yours. He knew it. He’s never been anyone elses and he never plans to. How stupid he had been to let you go, to kiss another girl, to pretend he was okay when he was truly devastated. 

“We’re okay, yeah? Take care of each other, now, yeah?” Sirius rocked you slowly, feeling your cries die down in the comfort of his arms. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, darling.” Sirius guided you slowly to the couch, setting you comfortably on the cushions, “sit for a while,”

You nodded loosely as you leaned on his chest, hiccuping with cries. “I thought I was doing the right thing, leaving you. Had I known how wrong it was, I would’ve thrown myself off the Astronomy tower before ever breaking up with you.” 

“Don’t say that,” Sirius hushed, “I know, you thought it was the right thing. You were trying to protect yourself and me.”

“I’m a fool. A stupid, foolish girl.” you muttered, still catching your breath.

“Don’t say that either. I made mistakes too, perhaps one I’ll regret for the rest of my life.”

“Oh, Sirius.” you began to cry again, “I don’t care if you kissed another girl. I don’t. I just care that I’m the girl you want next to your side.”

He turned your limp body so he could cup your cheeks again, rubbing with the pads of his thumbs. “You will always be the girl. Always. Nothing will change that.”

“Sirius,” you whispered, looking at his lips.

“Yes, love?”

“Kiss me.”

That was all Sirius needed to hear. For days, weeks, endless hours, the two of you, broken hearted souls walked the earth wondering when the pain would end. Sirius tried drinking, you tried swallowing textbooks whole. Nothing seemed to work. Nothing seemed to mend the hurt you felt panging your insides, sending waves of heat down your spines. Nothing could distract you from the absolute shattering sadness that your bodies felt. Two broken hearted souls. Two souls joining for a kiss. A kiss that would last centuries as Sirius vowed to marry you the minute your lips connected. Togetherness, the touch of a soulmate. He moved his lips against yours slowly, tasting, memorizing and wishing this moment would never end. Salty tears and content smiles, at last, the two broken souls found what truly mended, what stitched your hearts back together. Each other. Forever in eternity, never drifting apart for long as fate, the universe and every good hearted soul brought you two together. 

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black #sirius black imagines #Marauders #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #james potter imagine #james potter #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter oneshot #sirius black oneshot #harry potter masterlist

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The General (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: Things are explained, and you’re taken by surprise more than once. 

wc: 2.7k

tw: none

masterlist

Moonlight streams into the tent from a gash in the fabric above, illuminating your captor as he sleeps in the massive bed built for a giant or two. You, however, lay on the ground beside the bed, eyes glued to the sleeping general in spite.

Geto had yet again embarrassed you at dinner, making you kneel on the floor next to his chair instead of taking your place at the table. His kinsmen had laughed at you under their breath, and when he began to feed you from his plate by handing you pieces of food from his hand, that had completely annihilated any piece of pride you had left. Gojo made a joke about you being a beautiful, albeit begrudgingly obedient puppy which earned him a round of riotous laughter. It took all you had not to burst into tears right there.

And when the General got tipsy and began to pet your hair with a fondness you could only describe as possession, you felt even more defeated. 

But now it was all over. You were alone with him once more, trapped - even on the ground - and unable to leave. You were physically unrestrained - because where could you go when the camp stretched on for miles? - but the entrapment was mental. Nothing like this had ever crossed your mind when you considered your future. It all rested on Yuko’s shoulders not two da--

Yuko. 

What had that one soldier mentioned? 

“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?” 

Yuko. 

The idea that he had anything to do with this encounter would have been absurd to you, except… now, it wasn’t. 

When you gasp and sit up abruptly, Geto cracks open an eye and his hand shoots out to grab the neck of your kimono. “Easy there, little one.” But when he sees your tears, his features go from scrutiny to a softer gaze, and his hand releases from your kimono and flops to the side of the bed. 

“Why am I here?” you whisper, wiping your nose. “What am I to you?” 

“You’re here because I want you here,” Geto replies, sitting up fully and letting the sheets slide down his perfect frame.

“Why me?” 

“You were headed to the Imperial Court. Like I said, it’s a hellish life there. You should thank me, really. If we hadn’t gotten to you befo--” 

“What does Yuko have to do with any of this?” As soon as you mention Yuko, the atmosphere in the room changes from careful and concerned to an inquisition. Geto places his feet on the floor, eyes glued to your tear-stained face as he stands and then crouches in front of you. His hand drifts to your cheek, rubbing away a fresh tear before a thumb is smoothed over your dry lips.

“I almost forgot… you were close to him, weren’t you?” You neither confirm nor deny the accusations by remaining dreadfully still, eyes locked with the man in front of you. “Your silence confirms this.” Geto stands again, moving past you before lighting a few lanterns and then walking around you much like the previous night. 

“I have eyes everywhere, little one. When I heard that the Imperial Matchmaker was headed around the country, I made sure of two things: one, that she would conveniently look for a common girl to wed to a Prince, and two, that she would be from one of the towns where my eyes were.” 

‘My eyes’… Yuko is a… traitor?

“You see,” Geto leans down to brush his lips against your ear as his hair tickles your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since I was denied my rightful place in line for the throne, and I’ve tried everything to get it back.” A shiver runs down your spine at his admission, and you crane your head up to look at him in shock, fearing the next words out of his mouth. His onyx eyes are crazed, almost feral with ambition. “Well, that is… except start a war. And what better way to begin one than over a stolen princess-to-be?” 

_______________________________________________________________________

When Kaori enters the tent later on that morning, you’ve made up your mind. The eater of curses made it very clear that you were a pawn in his bid to usurp the Imperial Throne, and he also reiterated that escape was absolutely impossible. You were being watched by eyes you couldn’t see, listened to by ears you couldn’t deafen, and talked about by mouths you couldn’t shut. 

But there was one thing you could do. 

As the woman tends to your bruised knees, you examine her tools. 

“Do you have something that I could use to mend my old gown? And do you know where it went?” Kaori looks up at you, her brown hair falling behind her ears as her face contorts into a confused expression.

“Your old dress is gone, my Lady.” 

“It is?” 

“Sent downriver to the nearest village and made to look like you had been killed.” The news of your faked death is alarming, to say the least. 

“You mean I’m--” 

“Like most captives, you will no longer be searched for.” How many others had this happened to? 

“I-” 

“And I know what you’re thinking, Lady y/n. I am not permitted any sharp tools aside from what I am allowed to use in the hot springs with the other ladies, but they are not sharp enough to take a life. I am sure Master Geto will allow you to join us one day, though.” 

“H-how many women has he had before me?” Kaori looks up at you again; her eyes cold and unforgiving. 

“Only one, and she almost ruined him.” Her hands return to your calf, massaging the muscle carefully. “But that will never happen again. That we will all make sure of.” 

Another blue kimono, another morning spent alone until lunch had been brought to you. You now roam around the camp, followed closely by Kaori and another young woman you don’t know yet. As you bite into the pear in your hand, you try to catch bits and pieces of their chatter, but you lose the noise as soon as you encounter something new - which is every three seconds. Out of all of the women you see - most young women probably not above the age of twenty-nine - none of them wear blue kimonos. They’re either in red or green, perhaps signifying rank or job. But in all of the days you’ve seen Kaori, she’s dressed in multiple different colors, all except blue. 

You wonder what that means for a moment before you chance upon a large, open field full of men practicing their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You’re standing on a high part of a hill just before it slopes downward to where they are sparring. As your eyes scan the crowd from above, you look for your long-haired captor, and you cannot find him until a hand points over your shoulder. 

“You see that ring there?” The other woman speaks, and your eyes instantly hone in on a ring of men huddled around two figures fighting. “Master Geto and Master Gojo fight there all the time.” 

“Who wins?” you wonder, looking back at the giggling maid. 

“Which way will the wind blow tomorrow?” she answers, and at your confused expression, Kaori steps in.

“Some days it is Master Geto. Other days it is Master Gojo. We can never tell until the spar has ended and the dust has settled.” Your eyes turn back to the men in the circle, and you see a long stream of jet black hair and then long white hair, but they’re moving much too fast for you to be able to discern their movements. 

“They won’t be done for a while,” The other maid adds, and places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure Master Geto will come find you when he’s ready to… unwind.” The giggles at this comment do nothing for your nerves. 

_______________________________________________________________________

The General returns to the tent after a few hours, cuts and bruises dotting his half-clothed physique. You eye him carefully as he stalks past you on the bed, followed by a male attendant who rushes to help him undress and take a bath on the other side of the curtain. 

He’s silent as the water sloshes around, and you can barely make out any other noises besides the occasional hiss of pain or deep exhale. It’s obvious that the man who attends to his wounds did his job properly when Geto emerges with only a bandage on his right side, blood dotting the cloth taped to his ribs. 

“Scoot over,” Geto waves his hand at you, flopping onto the space you’ve made with barely so much as a ‘thank you’.

“Did you win?” you inquire and Geto looks over at you before touching his arms behind his head and giving you a toothy grin. 

“Of course I did.” You both lapse into another silence before Geto clears his throat and slides a hand from under his head and onto your back. “You went to see us train… I’m surprised you’d be interested in that.” 

“I was walking around and happened to observe the melee.” 

“Kaori told you about how our fights end, then.” 

“She and her companion didn’t add much to the already obvious; you two spar well.” 

“Do you fight, little one?” he asks innocently. You give him a look and that’s all he needs to see to know that the answer is ‘no’. “I should teach you to fight, then.”

“Why, so I can fight you and then run away after I win against you?” you retort, and Geto laughs suddenly, clutching at his injured side. 

“I didn’t say I would teach you how to beat me, I just said ‘to fight’,” he chokes out, wiping away the tears that dot his bottom eyelid. “You have a very interesting sense of humor.”

“It keeps me alive,” you mumble and you feel the hand on your back run up and down your spine. While the comforting gesture is kind in nature, it makes your skin crawl that someone so evil could touch anyone in an affectionate way. 

“Did Yuko ever touch you like this?” At this question, you look over at the man who spoke, eyes blazing. 

“He would never,” you snarl.  

“Smart man,” Geto grumbles, sitting up; now placing his hand on your leg. “I told him not to touch my things. He learned that lesson as a child and it seems it has carried over well.” 

“I’m your thing, now?” You snatch your body away from his grip and climb off the bed, shuffling to the far side of the tent to be alone. “You know, when people get pets, they at least give them something to play with and keep them busy during the day.”

“You want something to play with?” Geto moves off of the bed and raises a brow, fingering the waistband of his pants thoughtfully. “That can be arranged.” Fear leaps into your throat even though the man doesn’t move a single inch closer to you. You swallow hard, then Geto speaks, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “When I imagined taking a woman, it did not seem as hard as it actually is. Besides the frustrating part, you vex me entirely in areas I have never been tried in. I’m trying to keep you pure, so when this is over and I can release you to your hometown and you’ll be free to do as you please… but little one, you make it hard for me to control myself when you act this way.”

“It is obvious that you are a patient man and tha-” 

“It is not enough when that very vexation causes me to be kinder than I’ve ever been toward someone who repeatedly disrespects my existence.” 

“Kind? To me?” You scoff, turning away and crossing your arms. 

“I have been far kinder to you than anyone else I have held captive.” He’s advancing on you, but you can’t do much except back up against the tent side with fear. 

“All for some war so you can take the throne?” 

“All for my rightful place as Emperor.” 

“As a bastard son of the current Emperor, really.” Your cheeks are squeezed between fingers, and you taste the tang of iron in your mouth. You try to yank your face out of his grip, but it’s too strong, and you find that you’re held quite close to him as a result. He brings your face closer to his, eyes running wild over your features for a moment as he holds you captive. 

“Watch your tongue,” Geto warns, then lets you go, inhaling deeply before shaking out an exhale. You rub at your cheeks and now bitten tongue mournfully, giving the General a nasty look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“I would if you told me everything,” you mumble, looking away from the way his muscles were illuminated and painted perfectly and to the ground. “If I’m to be a pawn in your game, at least let me in on your plan.” 

Geto looks over his shoulder at you, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips up. It’s something you can’t look away from, and your mouth dries up at the gesture of familiarity. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you my secrets and then you’ll go and tell your kinsmen the plan, right? Somehow get that information to them… then plan your escape.” The smile falls, and the General turns back to you, his face now utterly serious. “I’m not a fool, little one. Foolishness did not get me this far, and I won’t begin to act like one now.” 

At this, he stalks out of the tent and leaves you alone again, stuck with your thoughts and your increasing desire to run away and never look back.

_______________________________________________________________________

Dinner. 

You’d come to dread the most decadent meal of the day where you would be sitting on the floor next to the General. You were not permitted to speak, but only eat from his hand and drink from his cup when allowed, and anyone could make fun of you behind hands or openly, as you were nothing more than an object. 

As you contemplate your fate yet again, you feel the familiar tap of something warm at your lips. 

“Eat.” Geto urges you, and you reluctantly open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. When you look around the table, you can just barely see the eyes of Gojo and Haibara following the motions of Geto’s hands as they converse about military strategy, but you can definitely see the eyes of the one they called Nanami following your movements with precision. 

Another piece of meat is presented for you to consume, and you do so mindlessly, observing the others at the table with less interest. That is, until you catch the little eyes of a child who sits at the other end of the table. He’s mid-chew with his little hands in the food, perhaps just now seeing you sitting on the floor like an obedient dog. 

You hadn’t seen children here before now, and it seems that the “little one” here was actually him, with his pink hair and brown eyes observing you curiously. It isn’t until he hops down from the table - his little hands plucking a piece of fish off of his plate - and disappears that your head eagerly follows his movements. 

Geto notices that you’re distracted and puts a hand on your shoulder, directing your attention back to him.

“If you--”

“Eat.” The voice of the child and the sliver of fish pressed to your mouth shocks both you and Geto, and the whole table is silenced by the interaction. “Eat.” The child encourages you again, and you accept the fish, his little fingers placing it in your mouth with care. As expected, the laughter begins anew, but you feel like laughing too as the child climbs back up to his seat and continues his own meal, unaware of the spectacle he’d just created. 

“It appears you have an effect on little Yuji, Geto,” Gojo howls at the end of the table, holding his stomach as he and Haibara roar with laughter. “Soon he’ll be feeding his own lady just like you!” 

And Geto laughs as well, tossing his head back and letting the sound carry into the night.

#geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk gojo #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #getou suguru

[clefairymuke]

regrets | chapter sixteen

prev. chapter | next chapter

pairing: levi ackerman x reader

themes: enemies to lovers, slowburn, angst, fluff, smut

tw: violence / explicit sexual content

word count: 1912

"You act like a child."

Levi's voice, though calm, rang a striking forte in the hushed atmosphere of his office. You were used to him raising his voice at you, of course, but this felt different. His repertoire of angry lectures with you were previously livened with notes of discipline and superiority; his tone, now, could only be described as personal.

Your blood ran cold as if the ice dripping from his voice had infected your veins. This is what I wanted, you reminded yourself, trying to make sense somewhere in the emotions of the man in front of you. "I act like a child?" you scoffed in an attempt to save face. You were unsure of what audience you were putting on for -- he saw right through you, and you knew it. You remembered your gleeful grin as you changed clothes before coming, how you practically celebrated with Jean when Levi was out of earshot. It was childish, but you were comfortable with that. It felt justified.

The scene in front of you was less than romantic: Levi stood to face you in front of his desk, his eyes narrowed to a glare. His face was less void of feeling than it typically was; his lips were drawn into a scowl and his brows dipped towards the corners of his slate eyes. There was no tea set, no papers strewn about, and no thing out of place. It was simply you, a spotless room, and an insufferably furious man a couple of yards away.

Your hands were balled into fists at your sides. You were angry in part because he had you figured out -- his first words to you upon your arrival were accusatory. He knew just as well as you did that you and Jean were playing a silly game. You both knew it was designed to get under his skin. This didn't make him any less pissed off, of course, and likely only fueled his fire further.

"Yes, you do," he asserted. His glare was unending and unforgiving, boring into you like knives as you put forth your best effort not to cower. "Children play fucking pretend."

"What makes you think it was pretend?" you questioned him, insulted by his critique of your acting skills. For the pain it required, you thought, you deserved a bit of recognition.

"Are you insinuating that you're actually in some kind of relationship with Kirstein?" he inquired, knuckles growing white as he dug his nails into his palms.

You considered your answer carefully -- admitting guilt too early may not lead to the most peaceful conversation; on the other hand, neither would keeping the lie going. Avoiding the question altogether seemed to be the most logical choice. "What does it matter to you anyway?" you asked him, trying to deflect. Regardless of your intentions, you were curious to hear his answer. If he truly didn't care about you as you did about him, he would have no opinion about what you did and didn't do with Jean -- or any other guy, for that matter.

"You know exactly why it matters to me," he hissed, his glare breaking momentarily to show the most minuscule bit of softness. It took no time to return to his hard, unforgiving stare.

You groaned, close to losing your cool. "I actually have no fucking clue why it would matter to you, Levi. I don't understand anything about how you feel," you told him, honestly yet harshly. Your breathing began to balloon your chest as you drew short, shallow breaths; the physical reaction behind your fury was conspicuous and annoying. "You haven't spoken to me outside of scolding since I was in the infirmary; even the last few days there, you gave me the cold shoulder without any explanation. How the hell am I supposed to know how you feel?"

You watched him sigh, removing his nails from his palms so that he could rest his face in his hands, his eyes hiding behind his fingers as considered your words. "You aren't --" he started, breaking off midway. There was a strange tone to his voice now, more understanding, more sad, yet still angry. It was like satin laid over barbed wire. "You aren't even supposed to be considering how I feel. You can't think of me that way."

Fury bellowed within you like a match on the floor of a rickety wooden house; it overtook you as the fire would, enveloping you completely and without remorse. Your mind raced with disbelief  -- how were you to keep from thinking of him that way? He opened that door wide with his stupid, comforting teatime chats and tiny smiles, with tender touches and lingering caresses long past the hours that would be considered appropriate for him to be alone with you.

It took longer than you would have liked for the words to travel from your brain to your tongue. Now you were the one raising your voice. "You made me think of you that way! You're fucking impossible, Levi, do you know that? How can you pretend that there's nothing between you and me?"

"Because there is nothing between you and me. You have a stupid schoolgirl crush, and I'm trying to get these dumbass ideas out of your head," he argued, face twisting yet again. His words pressed tight against your heart, pain oozing through the rigid wall your anger had built by hand. Still, you refused to let it fall.

"Then why do you care so much about me putting on a show for you with Jean today? Why was it so important that I had to be called to your office like you're going to make me clean the dorms over it? Your words don't align one bit with your actions, but I'm the crazy one." Your hands shook at your sides as you yelled at him; you didn't care if Erwin, Hange, or every scout you knew heard you. You were sick of the embarrassment he brought you. For every second you've been happy with him, there was an equal and opposite force of mortification. You would yell at him until your voice couldn't handle it any longer -- anything to get your point across.

Seeing Levi so full of emotion was rare. If you weren't so overtaken by rage you might have saved a moment to appreciate it. His typical straight-set lips hung open as you watched all the  things he wanted to say pass over his tongue. His eyes were dancing with anger, sadness, passion, yearning, annoyance, confusion -- all at once, one after the other like a montage of color. Your anger blinded you. You had a million and one harsh replies to a million harsh things you thought he could say, but you had no answer to what finally came out of his mouth when all of the emotion in his eyes settled within him.

"I knew you were doing it to bother me," he began, his tone gentler than it was before. "And the worst part was that it did. I couldn't stand to see someone touch you that way, even if it was all for show."

You hadn't expected that. The anger in you hadn't died, but the breath you took after hearing that was the most satisfying one you'd ever had, as if you were in atop a mountain breathing the cool oxygen for the first time. You studied him closely, meeting his soft eyes with the most understanding gaze you could muster. "Why couldn't you stand it?" you coaxed him, waiting to hear the words.

He let go an irritated sigh. "God damn it," he grumbled. He took a long step toward you, leaving only a few feet of distance now. "I --" he shook his head, "I can't do this with you."

You rolled your eyes with ever ounce of energy in your body. He came even closer, but you weren't paying attention. "Of course you can't. You get so close to finally just admitting the truth, and then you hide from it because it's impossible to admit that you have feelings for me." You were yelling again, despite how he was closing in on you. You hoped you were giving him a headache as he inched closer.

"It's inappropriate for you to even think that that's a possibility," he shouted back.

As he stood only a foot away and your words exchanged grew ever louder, you wondered where the crescendo would end. One of you would have to quiet down eventually -- and you would be damned before backing down. "I don't know why you think I give a shit about what's appropriate, Levi!"

"I know you don't give a shit. It's pretty fucking obvious."

"Then why are we even talking about this? Why didn't you just keep ignoring me?"

"Because I couldn't. I--" he broke off again, his eyes darting around to read your face. "I just -- You know what? Fuck it." Before you could process it, he took another step forward. His hand launched to the back of your head, the feeling of his fingertips somehow still gentle despite his rough movements as he pulled you towards him.

His lips crashed onto yours with a reckless abandon.

Your hands came to his chest to push him away, but once realization set in, you left them to rest there. His fingers began to tangle themselves in your hair as his inhibitions disappeared, every muscle losing its tension and every thought fading to static. What he lacked in the argument became clear in how he enveloped you; the screaming match seemed to continue into the way your lips battled, still ever-building.

Your hands left his chest to loop round his neck, one of them wandering off to grip his hair similar to the hold he had on you. His arm snaked around your waist to pull you flush against him, every curve in your body neutralized by a curve in his until it was difficult to tell where you ended and he began.

The time-slowing force that visited with absolute ecstasy had paid you mind, permitting you to relish in every movement. The kiss was deepening and deepening and deepening, leaving you to wonder what was left to explore, and yet still keeping you captivated with every second. In this moment, every doubt or worry was solved, and you would be content to never experience anything else; to stay clutched tightly in Levi's arms seemed like a well-enough fate to spend all of eternity. Despite your pleas to whatever controlled the universe to leave you just where you were forever, it had to end. The sight you saw when he pulled away was almost as satisfying as the kiss itself: Levi, eyes wide and almost frenzied, lips red and the tiniest bit swollen. When he pulled away, he did nothing to alter the position of your bodies, still pressed as tightly together as humanly possible, unsure of how to separate and not wanting to find out, either. He gazed into your eyes for only a second, light pants filling the space between you as you searched each other's faces for answers to questions you were unsure of. You brought your hand from the back of his head to rest on his cheek, tilting your head just slightly as if to get a better look.

Without exchanging words, the two of you had finally come to an agreement. You closed your eyes as his lips attacked yours once again.

#AoT #levi aot #aot fic #attack on titan #attack on titan fic #levi attack on titan #snk #snk fic #snk x reader #shingeki no kyojin #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi angst #levi smut #levi fluff #slowburn #enemies to lovers #angst #fluff #aot smut

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Hermitopia AU Conclusion

The last ask has been answered, the masterposts are complete, and (although art, writing, and Discord discussion are still accepted and encouraged) it is finally time to officially wrap up the Hermitopia AU! Because this was such a massive event - and no small thing to moderate - there will be a pause in blog activity for a day or so before the inbox will open for regular headcanons again. I apologize in advance for the wait!

In the mean time, I would just like to say: I am so, so thankful to everyone who participated in the AU. Your ideas and your creativity have made this blog a better place, whether you sent in one headcanon or dozens, and I am constantly in awe of the energy and enthusiasm of this community. Thank you, all of you, for making this universe we’ve created as vast and as interesting as it turned out to be.

Below are a collection of my own ideas, for those of you who like a satisfying (but still not entirely closed-ended) ending. These events take place as many days, months, or years into the future as you need them to make your own ideas work, and none of them are set in stone. You can take all of them, some of them, or none of them as truth if you want to...but either way, it has been an honour to build on a project like this one alongside you all.

And with that...the Hermitopia AU concludes! Finished, or barely begun, like so many good projects are. Have a great day everyone, and happy headcanoning!

- Mod Shade

"People of Hermitopia."

The man on the screen shifts, running a nervous hand across his bald head and squaring his shoulders. The broadcast quality is unstable, but it's more than enough for every citizen in the city to recognize who's speaking.

"This is your Concorp Branch Director, Cub. As I'm sure you are aware, I am the head of Project VEX in this city. You all know the VEX initiative as groundbreaking, life-saving, a shining success and a step towards a new era for humanity...and some of you may even see me as a hero for creating it.”

He closes his eyes, a brief look of pained remorse crossing his face. For a moment, he looks utterly defeated, almost small in the face of his impromptu audience of thousands...but finally, he fixes the camera with a steady gaze once more and begins the great unravelling.

“Maybe it was all those things, in the beginning. Maybe *I* was, once. But today, after far too long, I have some confessions to make...."

~

- For years, Cub had been desperately scrambling to hold the tatters of his life’s work together. Project VEX had started so well, and he had poured so much of himself into it, that when the failed experiments and rebellions became more and more frequent he was unable to accept a change of course. He covered up the project’s failings to maintain funding and public image, but mostly to maintain his own image to himself - that he was still the hero he’d set out to be and create at the project’s start. However, his denial was wearing on him heavily, and eventually he had a breakdown and decided to go public rather than keep drowning the city in lies.

- This breakdown was prompted by xB, who after his own moral breakthrough, confronted Cub and urged him to stop withholding knowledge and truth. xB also informed Cub of his own unknown truth - that the unintended power of his presence was the thing that was keeping the experiments successful when Cub was around. This was the final straw in breaking through Cub’s denial

- Along with Cub’s broadcasted speech, files were released to the media containing proof against most if not all of Concorp’s falsehoods. Many names were cleared of crimes that had been pinned on them, including Beef, Impulse, Doc, Cleo, and the majority of the other Unrestrained and Unaffiliated former VEX trainees that the company had tried to cast away

- Understandably, it took a very long time for the chaos to die down and all that information to be processed by society and the justice system. It may be years before the community can see some of their heroes in the proper light again, but at least they are now free to begin rebuilding their reputation without being labeled as villains and traitors.

- Those who actually did commit villainous acts are given a fair trial, with consideration for their motives and the new Concorp information as extra evidence

- The VEX program is withdrawn by Cub’s superiors and put under a strict review. It is reborn after a massive restructuring, with a new director, new limitations on what experiments can and cannot be attempted, and a greatly extended screening and training program to reduce the chances of graduates becoming villains. The new project will produce far fewer heroes with much subtler powers at first...but if that is the cost for the safety and stability of the city, then most people would agree that it is a small price to pay.

- Cub is not permitted to work on the new Project VEX in a management role, ever again. It’s a harsh blow for him, to have to watch his dream from the sidelines...but he knows he gave up the right to guide it when he abused the control that it gave him. At least his superiors allowed him something to do while he awaits trial: he is present (although guarded) at every new VEX trainee’s first experiment, lending his power to increase their chances of success.

- Mayor Scar resigned willingly. Nobody had enough evidence to accuse him of anything, and he didn’t plan on giving them a reason to look by trying to stay in office. Instead he chose to make his exit from both Concorp and government matters complete, at last. Or so he thinks. Who knows? Maybe he’ll learn what most of the people he’s helped to manipulate have already found out: that connections and old grudges don’t easily lose their grip.

- Scar is replaced by TFC, voted in by almost unanimous community support and funded by donations from all the people he’s saved over the years

- The greater Convex company offers a choice to the survivors of the old program: Come to work under their new, more honorable system, or take a generously large settlement and be free to build new lives

- Team ZIT declines the job offer, pooling their payment and using it to buy a shiny new base together for their independent hero venture. There are still a handful of real villains to fight, after all, and there are bound to be more once people start successfully copying Concorp technology. Now that Impulse is back at their side, they wouldn’t give up their roles saving the community for anything - but they’re done with being used by some guy behind a desk. From now on, justice and bravery will be their only guides!

- ...justice, bravery, and TFC, that is. He isn’t their boss by any means, but the more experienced hero does drop by often between his mayoral duties to make sure the youngsters stay out of trouble and in one piece.

- The nHo, according to all official records, took their settlements and split up, leaving Hermitopia far behind. However, Team ZIT suspects that the vigilante life hasn’t left them so easily. They’d be the last ones to report the odd sighting of a whipping vine or a distant masked figure, though - unregulated as they are, the nHo’s shady methods for a good cause prove useful from time to time. (And their base has really good tea. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit more than “the occasional sighting”...)

- Ren settles back into his meadow cabin, but after that massive release of info and a long, LONG period of processing, he now has Iskall, Stress, and Cleo as regular visitors. Every morning he wakes up and forgets for a moment that it’s real, that they’re really alive and with him again...but they are, and he is happier than he ever thought he would be again.

- Jevin and Mumbo visit the cabin occasionally. It took a while for Mumbo to get his memory back, but he now remembers all of his friendship with Iskall and Grian, and they come together for fun and shenanigans regularly with the rest of the cabin crew.

- Grian still spends his time looking for his clones, but honestly, he doesn’t mind. The adventure always did hold more meaning than the conclusion for him, and now, he has friends to help out!

- False disappears into thin air to wait out the fallout of Concorp’s information release. She snags herself a quiet job and a small apartment on the outskirts of town, fully intending to return to her mercenary work just as soon as the dust has settled...next week, maybe. Or the week after that. Or maybe, once the garden has been fully planted. She’s really enjoying having time for stuff like that now...but she’ll get back to work, really, she will! Soon.

- Joe and Cleo tearfully reunite through xB, and Joe becomes another frequent visitor to the cabin. Cleo also visits Joe’s base in the time exclusion zone, but she really prefers the cabin. Time skips are disorienting, and they make her want to sneeze.

- Keralis and Void come to an agreement. Xisuma isn’t entirely clear on what that agreement is - something to do with an allowance of cookies from Biffa’s bakery in exchange for not killing anyone - but he’s more than happy to be less sore and tired all the time.

Hermitopia is making progress. Real progress, this time - not just the breaking of humanity’s limitations, but breaking them with true heroic care, with the good of everyone in mind. There are some hurts that will never fully heal, mistakes that can be learned from but not undone, and yet...now there is a path, a way forward. It won’t be easy, but a kind and gentle future waits for them, welcome and well deserved. They will figure it out, together.

And together, they will step forward, into the new world that each of them has helped to create.

#hermitopia au #announcement #sort of #I know this is long; and not all of it is my best work; but I hope you'll find some of it worthy of canon #or at least inspiring to your own personal version of events #both hermitopia masterposts will be added to the masterpost of AUs in the normal pinned post #you'll still be able to access them #most importantly; I hope this event was fun for all of you #that's all there is to it; really. that's the point. :) #again; thank you

[sondepoch]

Tangled, Tangled (Barbatos x Reader)

True devotion can only be bought with love. And the only person Barbatos will ever love is you. Unfortunately, the Demon King demands absolute allegiance from all his subjects, and he keeps Barbatos loyal by holding you hostage. After a century of separation, though, the butler's good behavior is rewarded.

~Oneshot

MASTERLIST

True devotion can only be bought with love.

Fear is the second-best contender. It is amazing, the lengths a man will go to out of fear. And hatred—hatred is nearly as compelling. And then there's rage. Rage and fury and deception. All brilliant ways to sway the weak, to earn followers, to gain rapport among those who otherwise would do differently.

But true devotion can only be bought with love.

Something the Demon King knows all too well.

"You may rise, Barbatos." The man arches a bored eyebrow at his butler, drumming his fingertips aimlessly against the throne. "Speak. Why have you requested a formal audience with me?"

"This is formal business, your grace." Barbatos holds his gaze level against the ground, not daring to look upon his master. "I did not want to waste your private time with my personal issues."

"You only wished to waste my public time, is that it?" The Demon King chuckles, the sound echoing through the throne room. "Very well. The hours I set for meetings are open to all. I suppose that includes even you, Barbatos."

"Thank you, your grace."

"What do you wish to speak with me about?"

"The date, your grace."

"The date?" An irritated confusion crosses the Demon King's face at that, and a small part of Barbatos's heart falls. He had hoped that the king would at least remember, but it seems that he will need to explicitly ask for it.

"It has been one hundred years, your grace, since the last...ahem. I was hoping that you might permit me to celebrate another century of my loyalty."

A glimmer of understanding falls into the Demon King's eyes, and Barbatos swallows nervously, praying that the man is in a good mood. It certainly would not be the first time he has been dismissed of this single pleasure because the Demon King felt like torturing him.

"To celebrate a century of your loyalty, eh?" The Demon King frowns. "You make it sound as if there might come a century where you aren't loyal to the crown."

"Of course not," Barbatos responds swiftly. "My oaths are for eternity. My loyalty to you and your cause will never fade. It's merely that…"

"Our agreement."

"Yes."

The throne room quiets, feeling unnaturally cold as if the stone walls are designed to suck away at the temperature, making all who pass within these walls as uncomfortable as possible. It takes all of Barbatos's strength not to shudder as the king studies him, his only solace being that the warmth will eventually return. That you are not out of reach. That the Demon King hasn't said no to Barbatos's request just yet, and that even if he does, he has a chance to find you after another hundred years.

"Beg."

Barbatos wastes no time in falling to his knees, his forehead touching the icy floor. He has no pride left, no dignity to be stolen. All that exists in his heart is the overwhelming desire for you, a love so strong that it is the only thing keeping his heart beating.

"Please, your grace."

True devotion can only be bought with love.

"Please let me see my lover."

And the love Barbatos harbors for you burns brighter than all the flames in hell.

"I am your servant for eternity, I assure you."

He is devoted to you, to your touch, to your smile, to your taste.

"And I will only ever request this of you once every hundred years."

And so he is devoted to anyone who may permit him to see you.

"But I beg you to allow me this mercy."

Even if it is the man who stole you away in the first place.

Barbatos retains his posture, head practically glued to the floor as he waits. The desperation in his voice does not go unheard, and there's the sound of laughter from the throne, arrogant and cruel.

A sharp metal bounces off of Barbatos's head.

The demon's eyes widen. Not from the pain of the action, not because his head is now throbbing. But because that is the key to your room.

Because the king has said yes.

"Rise, Barbatos. Take the key. I expect you to return it to me by noon tomorrow, and you cannot take your little friend out of their cage, but…"

Barbatos struggles to maintain his composure, no longer listening to the Demon King as he speaks. The butler is now wholly preoccupied with the key in his hand, with the fact that his master is dismissing him, with the knowledge that you are merely minutes away, and all Barbatos needs to do is turn a key in a lock to be by your side.

The rush of adrenaline which travels through his body is exhilarating. The demon's strides are controlled as he exits the throne room, but the moment Barbatos steps into the halls that will take him to your room, he's sprinting, all thoughts of propriety thrown out the window.

It's the moment he's been waiting for ever since he left your room one hundred years ago—the moment he is always waiting for whenever he has to leave you at the Demon King's orders, sworn to never return until he has sufficiently proved his loyalty, something the king has decreed to be one hundred years of faithful service.

Open, dammit.

Barbatos's actions are uncharacteristically sloppy as he shoves the key into the lock that bars your room, hating how stiff it is from lack of use.

"Open," Barbatos hisses under his breath, trying to use more force. "Just open!"

The demon slams his hand against the door, and suddenly, he doesn't know how he waited one hundred years for this. If the door doesn't stop blocking him from seeing you this instant, he's going to tear it to shreds, consequences be damned.

"Barbatos?" Your voice calls from the other end, slightly frantic. "Barbatos, is that you?!"

"The door!" He croaks desperately, trying to shove it open. "It won't—it won't—"

A sinking feeling takes root in Barbatos's stomach. What if this is a joke from the Demon King? What if he wasn't satisfied with Barbatos's service this century, and wants to torture him like this, so close from the one person he cares for but still so far?

"I barred it!" He hears you shout from inside. The sound of moving furniture fills his ears, and then you're calling his name again. "Now, Barbatos! Try to open it now!"

The demon pushes. He pushes with all his strength. He pushes and he pushes and he pushes until tears of frustration are beginning to prick at his eyes, and then he loses all sense of control and he shifts into his demon form, horns manifesting.

He sinks his claws into the door, talons tearing at the steel, and in the face of his inhuman strength, nothing can stand in his way. The metal screams as it grinds against the floor but Barbatos forces it open all the same, the promise of you on the other end only spurring his strength on.

It takes Barbatos all of two seconds to dart inside when the door is sufficiently open; two seconds before the metal screeches and the door is closed behind him.

But in those two seconds, his entire world has changed.

"My love," Barbatos breathes into your ear, holding you close against the ground. He does not know when he hugged you, or when he barreled into you with enough force to knock you both to the floor, or when you wrapped your arms around him in response. All he knows is that you're here, and no one is taking you away from him just yet.

"Barbatos," You whisper, clinging to him. Your figure trembles and the demon feels a wetness in his shoulder. "Barbatos, I missed you so much—I don't—you don't know how much I missed you—"

"I missed you too, my love." Barbatos pulls your head from your shoulder, his thumbs brushing the tears away from your cheeks. "More than I can ever say."

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss that conveys his every emotion.

The two of you stay like that for a long time, completely unmoving. As if standing still will hold time back with you, giving you both longer to savor the moment. Giving you longer to savor this night. But however much you need each other's love, the need for air becomes overwhelming and Barbatos pulls his lips away from yours only to kiss you seconds later, refusing to lose a moment longer than he has to.

He wraps his arms around your waist slowly, stroking the skin there and savoring its softness. Its warmth. "Legs around me," He mumbles against your lips, and you comply instantly, wrapping your limbs around his figure as he lifts you and carries you to your bedroom.

It's hardly difficult for Barbatos to find the way there.

It takes him all of three minutes, an impressive feat given that the abode you reside within is practically a castle—but the Demon King's words were true. This is nothing but an extravagant cage, your presence in it a mere tool to keep the king's dog under control.

"Stay with me," You mumble into Barbatos's skin when he presses himself onto your bed. You layer open-mouthed kisses against his neck, slowly removing his clothing as he removes yours. "Stay with me tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after. The Demon King can't do anything if you refuse to leave."

"My love," Barbatos warns gently, squeezing your hand. "The Demon King can do everything."

"No, he can't," You argue. "You're a strong demon, Barbatos. He won't be able to hurt you, and—"

"He won't hurt me," Barbatos mumbles, frowning. He hates that he always has to go through this with you, that he always has to say it. Then again, he can hardly blame you. A century of separation would delude him into thinking that rebelling against the crown was smart, if only he weren't reminded of its power every day. "He'll hurt you."

"No, he won't," You mumble, cupping Barbatos's cheeks. You force him to look at you, and his heart breaks a little when he does. Even as you're with him, you're far away. Already thinking of how he'll have to leave you tomorrow. How you'll have to wait another century, only for it to repeat. "He won't hurt me. If I get hurt—if I die, he has nothing to hold you loyal to him."

"My love," Barbatos whispers. "He will kill you and he will make me watch. Because he knows I will turn back time such that it never happens again, so he can eternally keep me at his side."

"But how…" There is an unspoken question in your eyes, a soft curiosity as to how Barbatos can possibly know anything about a man who holds nothing but secrets.

And then there is Barbatos's unspoken answer, the flash of a memory flickering in his eyes before he is kissing you once more, trying to forget the sight of your once-empty eyes and the foolery which ever made him think he stood a chance against his master.

"There has to be something," You whisper, clutching Barbatos's shoulders as his fingers continue to work against your clothes. "Love always finds a way. That's what all the books say. We have to be able to do something to—"

"Shh," Barbatos hushes you, pressing his lips against yours. "Please, my love. I can make you no promises but for the present." Barbatos slides your underwear off. "So please do not think of the future."

"But Barbatos," You mumble desperately as he peppers kisses down your body. "I can't live through another century without...I just miss you so, so...please don't leave me...ah…"

The demon closes his eyes as he grips your hips, using his mouth the way you like best as he works your tongue along your nether regions. The sound of your moans does nothing but urge him onward, your fingers gripping his hair the way he's imagined on all those nights without you.

The demon takes his time with you. Ravishing your body as if he is a man starved. Latching his lips onto your skin at every instance, even as he sheathes himself inside and is at last one with you.

"I love you," He whispers into your ear hours later, when your bodies are finally tired and the night has grown older. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Barbatos." You hold him close, hugging him even as the two of you struggle to find your breathing, hearts returning to their normal pace together.

"Diavolo…" Barbatos clears his throat, taking a shaky breath and speaking only once he's positive his voice won't wobble.

"Are you calling another man's name while I'm in bed with you?" You flash a coy grin at Barbatos, and the demon doesn't bother suppressing the instinctive flush that crosses his cheek at your words. Your eyes are no longer clouded by desire as they were earlier, your voice having exchanged its desperate tone for one of adoration in the haze of such strenuous activities. But the demon can still see the undertones of longing behind your gaze, and even if you're no longer begging for him to stay behind with you, there's an unmistakable sadness in your eye.

"Diavolo will rise to the throne soon." Barbatos strokes your cheek with his thumb. "He suspects his father will take the Long Sleep by the end of the millennium."

"And?" You whisper, eyes wide. Eyes hopeful. Eyes desperate, because you don't know Diavolo the way Barbatos does, and you don't know if Diavolo will permit the two of you to be together.

"And Diavolo has promised to set you free when he rises to the throne."

The sob of relief that leaves your mouth at that tugs at Barbatos's heart. Your arms were already around him before, but now you're clinging to him, and you're desperately hugging and laughing and crying and trying to share your joy.

"Oh, that's wonderful, Barbatos!" Tears well in your eyes. "I can—I can eat real food—something you've prepared and not that insufferable trash the Demon King sends me—and we can go out in public together—out—outside this cage of mine and into the real Devildom—and we can—and we can see each other every night and—and—"

The happiness in your eyes falters.

"And there's a catch, isn't there?"

Barbatos nods gently. "Not a bad one. Diavolo is a just man. His only terms are that I pledge loyalty to him. The conditions of our bond will similar to what I share with his father...but he will only take you away from me if I do him wrong."

You sigh, seeing both the good and the bad of this situation.

"You will still be a collared dog."

"Perhaps," Barbatos muses. "But with you by my side, I will be happy. We will be happy. And Diavolo is a man who listens to reason. He will be a good ruler. I will not need to go against him."

But you're still hesitant.

"Can't you convince him otherwise? He shouldn't need a hostage to keep you in line. And—and you've done nothing wrong! Why can't he just accept your loyalty to be genuine?"

"Because," Barbatos brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips. "They are jealous of you, my love."

"Oh?"

"True devotion can only be bought with love. And I will forever be more devoted to you than I ever shall be to them."

Your lips quirk upward at that, a flash of amusement traveling through your eyes. You don't believe him for a minute; the sheer notion of royalty being jealous of Barbatos's love for you is ridiculous.

"That sounds like a fancy way to tell me that things are complicated, Barbatos."

"What can I say? The ties that bind us are tangled, my love."

The demon sighs as you lay your head across his chest, your hands tracing abstract patterns onto his abdomen.

"I don't want to wait anymore," You whisper, pulling the demon closer. Barbatos can sense how you're already preparing to cling to the lingering warmth of the mattress when he'll have to leave, when you'll be left with the vague scent of your lover on your sheets and nothing more. "But I'll try."

And that is all I can ever ask of you, my love.

Barbatos doesn't thank you aloud. He isn't thankful. This very situation is something he will never be thankful for, and there's nothing the demon can do but press a kiss to your forehead as the two of you wait in silence for the moment where he will have to leave. There is no solace, no comfort in the fact that you will soon be separated. Even the promise of Diavolo's ascension to the throne is faraway, and Barbatos cannot expect you to be hopeful for a day that will come after so many centuries of waiting.

"Close your eyes, darling."

The demon blinks, but your arm reaches up to caress his face, his eyelashes flutter closed.

"See, if we lay like this, we can almost pretend that the Demon King doesn't exist." A short laugh spills from your lips, a sound so beautiful that Barbatos wants to bottle it in a jar and listen to it for hours. "Almost...so stop frowning."

Your fingertips ghost over his lips, and the demon smiles on instinct.

"That's better," You drawl sleepily, wrapping your arm around his neck. "Someday, we really will be able to stay like this forever."

That day cannot come soon enough.

Barbatos swallows thickly, knowing that he mustn't cry. That he cannot break in front of you. That while he is with you, he must be strong so that you have someone to lean on in your anguish.

But the more he thinks about how far away the future he desires is, the worse the pressure in his throat becomes. And the need to remain composed in your presence outweighs his desire to hold himself captive to the truth that binds him.

And so, for a few short hours, he allows himself this luxury.

And he forgets.

Forgets the king which is holding you here, forgets the prince who might set you free. Forgets the moonlight that illuminates you, forgets the bed that holds you. Forgets everything except the feel of your body next to his, your warmth spreading into his, your skin on his as he memorizes your figure to keep him company for all nights to come until he may see you again.

And when Barbatos closes his eyes like this, he can almost pretend that this night will last forever.

MASTERLIST

Word count: 3.1k

Notes: As I was writing this, there was an overwhelming urge to turn this into pure angst and have Barbatos open the door, only to see MC and Diavolo kissing or smth

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I do not own the rights to Obey Me! or any of the characters within it.

#Word count: 3.1k #gender neutral reader #obey me shall we date #obey me barbatos x reader #om! barbatos #gender neutral mc #demon reader #king and servant dynamics #power dynamics #angst #angst with a sort of happy ending #i mean its not happy now but eventually things will be #referenced sex #nonexplicit smut #kinda wholesome idk this was fun to write #true love