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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 7 months

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Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions.

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself.

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many.

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you.

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped.

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it.

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake.

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one.

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something.

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze.

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it.

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting.

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him.

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed.

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes.

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous.

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason.

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?”

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.”

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances.

But what about your lives were normal?

#astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #baldur's gate 3 #you'll pry my long posts out of my cold dead hands #long fic #spoilers #and thats how later astarion found himself on stage with a killer clown #whoops #still fluffy i'd say #I got a soft (in comparison to cough alternatives) jealousy trilogy in mind so one more dirty part. Also #side note #in reality everyone in your party is attractive and probably gets flirted with an equal amount at the caress #but I love the idea of astarion being hyper focused on you.

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inky-duchess · 4 months

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Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble Jewellery

Royal and Noble jewellery is a staple of their life, a statement of the who is person is, their rank and their wealth. Jewellery simply isn't a accessory, it's an exercise in showmanship and a way to link to a past.

(Disclaimer: Many stones in pieces often have a bloody past, usually stolen or worked from the earth under the reign of Colonialism. It is best to always take this into account when admiring real world pieces)

Providence

Jewellery like this is usually inherited buy can also be bought or even given as a gift. There is three kinds of jewellery in this instance: private, owned by the crown or owned by the state.

Private jewellery is owned by a single person and worn or lent at their own descretion. Private jewellery can be no less grand than state owned jewellery. This jewellery can be inherited by anybody the owner chooses.

State jewellery is not privately owned, it belongs to the country itself. It is not inherited but used by royal family. If a royal family is deposed, the jewellery remains with the state. Such as the French Crown Jewels.

Owned by the Crown means that it can only pass monarch to monarch, worn only by consorts or the monarch and lent to anybody they choose.

Noble jewellery is not quite the same. Much of it is owned privately but there may be one or two pieces designated as official jewellery for the title such as a specific tiara.

The Rules

Jewellery like this are not just trinkets to be borrowed by anybody. Usually the monarch (or titled noble) or sometimes the spouse, is in charge of designating who can be lent which pieces and for what occasion. Even if you are a super close member of the family, you still have to take what's on offer. Sometimes certain jewellery is worn exclusively by a certain rank say the Queen or the noble themselves and would not be offered to anybody else. For example, you will note that into today's royalty you will see certain royals repeating the same tiaras such as Kate Middleton who has only worn the Cambridge Lover's Knot, the Strathmore Rose Tiara, the Lotus Tiara and once, the Cartier Halo Tiara. These would be the tiaras available to them, which usually number only a handful. Certain pieces are designated by for the monarch/Consort as well, the Vladimir Tiara & the Girls of Britain and Ireland Tiara only graced the head of the Queen in her reign. Other pieces such as earrings or bracelets would also be distributed accordingly, more elaborate and expensive pieces would be worn by the higher ranking members. Certain collections are meant to be passed on, such as the Consort's jewels but many Dowager refused to pass on their jewels such as Empress Dowager Maria Feodorovna after the death of Tsar Alexander III.

Treasure Trove

Now, just because a family has a throne or a grand title doesn't mean they have caches of jewels. Many noble families sold off their pieces to pay death duties, most only have a few pieces left today. As for tiaras most noble families would not have access to large quantities, usually only affording one or two. The Spencers for example own two, the Spencer Tiara and the Spencer Honeysuckle Tiara. This is an inaccurate protrayal in Downton Abbey, as the family have at least 6 but then again Cora is a Dollar Princess so it could be possible to own as many but it never made sense considering just how many times they almost loose the estate and never sell any off. Royal families are not exempt from this either, some families have vast stores of jewels such as the British Royal Family (I wonder where those all came from...) while the Greek Monarchy (discontinued) has only a few pieces. The Romanov collection is of course legendary and we may never know it's full extent.

#Fantasy Guide to Royal and Noble jewellery #Royal jewellery #Noble jewellery #Jewellery #Fantasy Guide #writing #writeblr #writing resources #writing reference #writing advice #writer #writers #Writing resource #Writing research #Writing guide #Writing royalty #Writing royal characters

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etheries1015 · 3 months

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In memory of the Apology Mug Story (and because I walked past a super old building recently; guess what it had on the facade)

Reader who knows how to carve rocks into specific forms and is very skilled in it makes Malleus a gargoyle for his birthday. He's so happy he ends up accidentally confessing his love to them.

Bonus points if that was Lilia's idea because he got tired of seeing them dance around each other and wanted things to happen already

This is really cute <3 for those who aren't certain what the apology mug story is; the link to that is Here!

A special birthday present for our favorite draconic prince <3

Being in Ramshackle with a limited amount of entertainment (being unable to afford many electronics) you had to resort to other forms of entertainment. Reading, cooking, sewing, board games, long walks outside, musical instruments, and your most recent of endeavors; rock carving. You had learned a few things here and there from Malleus, he was an avid crafter of gargoyles within his club and was more than happy to teach you a thing or two. Although most of your attempts seemed to fail in his eyes, you were actually secretly incredibly skilled at this. You were leaving your skills to set up a surprise present for the fae for his birthday; January 18th.

It wasn't hard to figure out what you were planning on doing for his birthday, Malleus was incredibly easy to read. Although money was scarce for you, using your skills to handmake something would be much more worth receiving than any amount of money could pay for. At least, that's what Malleus had said when you inquired what he would like at his celebration.

"A present is not necessary," He told you with a graceful smile, "Bring yourself, and your smile. That is enough for me." ...you were not going to take that as the final verdict, thus began your journey to create a gift he was surely going to enjoy.

His birthday came upon you, and your gift was finally completed. You did not hesitate to rush over to Diasomnia for the celebration, bringing over two things; A homemade ice cream cake, and your gift box. The cake was pretty much the start of Malleus's excitement, ice cream cakes exist?! It wasn't common in Twisted Wonderland much to your surprise, so sharing your handmade cake with his enjoyment of icecream implemented already sent him over the moon. The joy that was written all over his face was the easiest text to read, soon pouring out of his mouth in a theatric novel after unwrapping his second gift from you- two gargoyles. They were miniature and made for décor less than actual function, however, his excitement seemed to explode off the tip of his tongue.

His bright green eyes were sparkling, his mouth ajar, and a blush painted across his pale cheeks.

"It's us! See, one has your horns and the other-" Malleus immediately wrapped you into his embrace, much to the protest of Sebek nearby, yet the smiles of amusement of Silver and Lilia quickly hushed the student. It seemingly seemed the words held inside had burst at the seams, and Malleus had begun setting free the things he had been eager to share for some time now.

"I am in pure infatuation with you," Malleus blurted out, "I have not received a gift so heartfelt and beautiful," it almost sounded like he was holding back tears of happiness.

"Two gargoyles representing you and I, shall I take this as a declaration that you wish to be my pair?" He did not await your response, the tall fae was already shooting off at the mouth. "I reciprocate. Your beautiful craftmanship will forever be my treasure, next to you, of course." You could not hide the clear redness from your face, and the dumb smile that planted permanently at his sudden confession.

"it's about time!" Lilia laughed, "Now, let us celebrate not only our prince's birthday but also the union between these two lovebirds!" Malleus pulled away from the hug and smiled again at the gargoyles you intricately designed, turning to face his dormmates.

"Yes, let us resume the festivities. We shall celebrate all night long, this will be a birthday well worth remembering. Come now, my dearest." Setting down the Gargoyles in a safe place, he grabbed hold of your hand dragging you into the joyful celebration <3

Happy birthday, Malleus!!

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #Malleus draconia x reader #Malleus #malleus x reader #malleus twst #Twisted wonderland malleus #twst malleus x reader #malleus headcannons #malleus draconia headcannons #Happy birthday Malleus!#Twisted wonderland headcannons

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phefics · 4 months

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if we pretend for just a moment that they celebrate christmas/other winter holidays, can we get the hunger games boys and what they’d get you as a present or how they’d react to yours? 💋🎄

peeta loves holidays!! he loves the quality time spent with family and the silly traditions. he would love to give you something handmade, something that he painted or baked for you. he would probably buy you something as well, because he can’t help spoiling you. as for your gift to him, he’s gonna love it no matter what it is — he unwraps it with all the grace of an excited child and gets so excited. he’d thank you repeatedly, kissing your cheeks and lips and immediately want to use the present.

gale grew up in a large, struggling family, so holidays were never that fun for him growing up. with a partner though, i think it would hold a new kind of excitement for him. he would get you something small but personal, something related to an inside joke or a special moment between you two. “i know it’s not much, but i hope you like it.” when you give him a present, he’s a little awkward about receiving it, because he isn’t used to getting things handed to him for free. he would be incredibly grateful, though, and give you the biggest hug.

finnick is busting out the decorations and ugly sweaters earlier than is socially acceptable. he is terrible at keeping your gifts a secret and keeps wanting to give them to you too soon. he buys you multiple things, and they are all things that you mentioned wanting that he remembered and bought for you, because he’s a great listener. no matter what you get him, he’s gonna be giddy and show it off to everyone he knows.

coriolanus isn’t big on holidays. he finds them a bit silly, but he would feign excitement for you. he would get you something fancy, the best he could afford, probably a piece of jewelry that you could wear every day and show off. receiving a gift is different for him, though. even if you get him something small, simple, inexpensive, it’s a meaningful gift that’ll get him. to be known and loved by you well enough to get him a personalized, special present…that just melts his little cold heart.

sejanus loves any excuse to celebrate and spoil you. he wants all the decorations and all the festivities, and you are going to be drowning in gifts by the end of the day. like coryo, i think he’d get you something expensive, but like peeta, i think he’d also give you something handmade, so you get the best of both worlds. if you get this man any sort of sentimental gift, he will cry.

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark #gale hawthorne fluff #gale hawthorne x reader #gale hawthorne #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #coriolanus snow x reader #corionalus snow #coriolanus snow fluff #sejanus plinth fluff #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth #ophelia’s hcs #💌 𝐈𝐍𝐁𝐎𝐗.#the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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taintedcigs · 8 months

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eddie w tattoo artist reader..... trying SO hard to seem like he's not dying from pain while she tattoos his chest, bc he's trying to impress her. she's the coolest girl he's ever seen and the fact that her art is on him forever makes him so giddy and happy, almost as happy as getting her number

call me if you need a groupie — e.m.

yes yes yes yes yes. a thousand times yes to this. thank u for this request omg i looooove lovesick cutie eddie soooooo much. this was meant to be a blurb but now its a 2.8k+ fic oops. idk if there were exclusive shirts ok i tried to do my research but this is the best i could get and idk how tattoo processes are so take everything i wrote w a grain of salt !! not proofread as always so ignore any mistakes and also idk why but i looved writing for this dynamic and if anyone would be interested i could write a pt.2 for some smut !! (maybe sub!eddie or switch!eddie? 👀)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!tattoo artist!reader (wc: 2.8k+)

warnings: MINORS DNI w any of my works!!. just pure fluff!! maybe the teeniest tiniest angst, eddie is kinda insecure <3, eddie is a lovesick cutie honey pie !! and swearing? oh also tattooing ofc (needles n stuff)

He doesn't mean to flinch, he doesn't mean to show you how stressed he is, but you can sense it.

Each time the needle presses against his skin, he hisses, mouth biting onto his lips, harsh enough to draw blood.

But Eddie doesn’t care, you—the hottest and coolest girl—that has ever graced the hellhole that was Hawkins was tattooing him, and Eddie couldn’t afford to look like a coward.

So with everything in him, he shut his lips, biting on them, becoming accustomed to the metallic taste because it didn’t matter, not when you looked so fucking pretty when cooing him and your free hand squeezed his biceps for reassurance.

He didn’t know what to admire first, the way your lips quirked sweetly when you answered his dumb questions, the way you looked so focused with your lip between your teeth, trying to tattoo him, or the fact that you were wearing an Anthrax shirt, and not just any regular Anthrax shirt that you could find at those regular shops, it was an exclusive shirt that was only sold at the concerts, and he had to gulp physically at that.

You were a tattoo artist… and a metal fan? How perfect could you get?

Before his questions were answered, the needle pricked at his skin again, he cursed out, and instead of screaming in his mind, he whimpered out loud this time.

Your head perked up quickly and Eddie was now cursing himself, for being a fucking idiot, for looking like a coward in front of you.

“I can slow down if you want to,” You said with a smile, a sweet smile that adorned your perfectly red lips, they looked so fucking kissable.

“N–no!” He stuttered, but you gave him a huff. “C’mon Eds, you’re doing good… better than anyone I’ve ever tattooed has, we can slow down a bit.” You reassured.

His eyes lit up like a child, Eds? His new acquired nickname rolled off your tongue so sweetly, your words dripped in honey. And Eddie decided he would do anything to hear you call him that again.

Not only did you call him Eds, but you also said he was better than the others, and the childish grin on Eddie’s lips was quick to grow again, his entire body relaxing as he almost melted into you.

“You think so?” He asked, tone giddy and all sweet, causing a pretty giggle to escape your lips.

“I know so!” You hummed. “Tattooed a guy yesterday. He was tall. Like really fucking tall, and he had this long beard and tattoos everywhere!” You exaggerated, watching Eddie’s eyes widen. “He cried like a baby the second that needle prickled his skin!”

“And look at you, taking everything I’m giving you like a champ,” You winked.

If only you knew the affect you had on him, Eddie’s entire face grew red at that, he would, without hesitation take anything you gave him.

He tried, so fucking hard not to think about it, but now his mind was filled with the images of you, sitting on his faze, your pretty cunt glistening as he lapped away at your juices.

He imagined those pretty manicured fingers discarding his hair, ruffling while those pretty little lips were hung open, chanting his name. Your whines and whimpers would fill the room as he begged for you to cum in his mouth. He wouldn’t stop until you smothered him.

Until all he could taste was you.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, because the blood was quick to rush to his cock, and he didn’t want to have his bulge hardening against his tight pants anymore than he needed to, you were inches away from him and he wanted to seem cool–so fucking badly.

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded swiftly. “So brave for me.” You coo, lips lightly brushing against his cheek, as you plant a little kiss.

And Eddie was sure this was heaven now, he blinked quickly to make sure he wasn't dreaming, the light kiss you left on his cheeks lingered, and he could feel it burn.

His cheeks were purely crimson red now, he couldn't fucking help it. He ached for you, ached to have you close to him, ached to feel your touch, and everything you did was enough to drive him crazy, make him feel out of his fucking mind.

He was putty in your hands and you had no fucking idea.

His mouth stood agape, a dumbfounded look overtaking his features for too fucking long until the soft buzz of the machine brought him back again, the needle quick to puncture the skin's surface again, causing Eddie to squeeze his eyes shut as he tried his best not to fucking scream.

Be cool, be cool, be fucking cool Edward Munson.

He repeated it like a mantra in his head, and he was glad you were focusing on tattooing the cute sketch you made for him, and not his actual face that probably looked straight out of a horror movie.

“So—uh... c—cool shirt,” Eddie muttered, voice so low that he was surprised when you hummed back at him.

“Oh, yeah,” You muttered.

“You listen to Anthrax?” You asked with a beaming smile, gaze still focused on Eddie's arm.

Eddie huffed painfully but realized quickly that the nervousness of talking to you was overpowering the pain of the tattoo gun drilling into his skin.

“Are you kidding? Anthrax, Judas Priest, Black Sabbath... Megadeth! You name it I probably listen to it,” He hummed, and your eyes glimmered, causing Eddie's breath to hitch and his wavering nervousness to appear again. “Metal is my jam, baby!” He exclaimed, not too loud to disturb your tattooing process but loud enough to cause a giggle out of you.

Metal is my jam? Baby? Who the fuck says that?

Eddie was afraid to look into your eyes now, afraid to see the gaze everyone gives him.

Like he's an outsider like he's a freak.

But when he hears that pretty giggle of yours again, comfort takes over him, nervousness dissipating quickly when he sees the gentle look you give him.

Almost as if to let him know that you also love those bands. Almost as if to let him know that he wasn't an outsider because you were just like him.

“Dio?” You asked with a curious gaze, face beaming up when Eddie nodded furiously.

“Fuckin' love Dio,” He muttered, barely realizing the needle on his skin now, all thanks to you.

“Uhh—how did you even get that shirt?” Eddie asked, almost shyly, admiring the way you were neatly tattooing him.

“I wanted to go to that concert so badly but the tickets were sold out so quickly.” He added.

“Oh! I was Belladonna's groupie,” You muttered mindlessly, the pain as you prickled the needle was an afterthought to Eddie now, almost forgetting how to breathe, he coughed, quite loudly, causing you to look up at him and see the bewildered look on his face.

You stopped the machine when you chuckled lightly, "Oh, Eds!"

There it was, that nickname again, god you were dizzying his mind.

“I was just joking,” You smiled at him, and he wanted to melt, right then and there. "Needed to go a little bit deeper so I thought I'd distract you," You shrugged, and Eddie returned the smile.

He liked the feeling of having someone care about him, he liked talking to you, and he sure as hell enjoyed being with someone so similar to him—someone so fucking cool.

“Though I did go to that concert in 1987.” You could feel Eddie’s curious gaze on you

“My friend knew their manager,” You murmured again.

"Really?!? How was it?" He asked, face beaming again.

“So fucking cool.” You gushed as you started talking about their set list, how the first punch you ever threw was at that concert, and you enthusiastically animated Donais' guitar riff, earning a hearty chuckle from Eddie. He loved every bit of your story, listening attentively as your exaggerations enticed him more and more.

The longer you tattooed him, the more comfortable Eddie got, pain was no longer his main concern when all he wanted to do was make you laugh, hear that sweet giggle escaping from your lips, admire the way your eyes crinkle when you smile at him so sugary.

Minutes stretched into hours as you focused on his tattoo, each pass of the needle causing a smile on your face as the sketch you made became more intricate and alluring on his bare skin.

“All done!” You exclaimed with a smile when you finally finished tattooing him, a sigh of relief escaping your lips when the buzz of the machine was finally replaced with silence.

You couldn't help but trace every part of his face now, you wanted to see if he liked it, anxiety bubbling up in your stomach as you couldn't read Eddie's expressions.

“Oh my god,” Was all that left Eddie's lips, and your lips almost started to tremble.

Jesus fucking Christ, how bad did you fuck up?

“Oh my fucking god,” He repeated again, this time his head tilted upward to your direction, almost snapping as you looked at him with scared eyes.

But your gaze eased the second you saw the admiration in Eddie's gaze. “This is a fucking masterpiece!” He beamed, causing a smile on your lips, so fucking big and pretty that he wished he could have that tattooed instead.

“It's fucking perfect,” He muttered again, shaking his head in disbelief when he looked at the tattoo on his forearm.

“I mean when I saw that sketch, I knew you were good to , but holy shit,” He praised again, causing heat to grow in your cheeks, he had no idea how much it meant to you, to have someone appreciating your art, to have people walk around in the sketches you did, indelible on their skin. It felt so fucking good.

“It's...perfect.”

“Really?”

“Of fucking course,” He gushed. “You're so fuckin' talented it's crazy,” He muttered, fingertips gentle as they avoided glazing through the tattoo, but around it.

You were so fucking perfect it was killing him, and he couldn't help the giddy feeling inside of him knowing that your art would be etched into his skin, forever.

You couldn't shake off the thoughts in your head, swirling when Eddie uttered those compliments to you.

Your cheeks grew hot so quickly that you felt the need to turn around, trying to think of something to say to him so that you wouldn't look like a fucking idiot.

Eddie turned around to face you, the smile that brought out his dimples apparent in his face as he watched you scrabble something on a business card.

“Thank you,” You muttered when you turned around, hands almost shaking as you extended your arm to give Eddie the card.

He scrambled it into his back pocket, not caring when you were this close to him, but you frowned at that. “No, thank you, for this masterpiece” He winked, pointing toward his forearm.

He didn't even know where he got the confidence to even be able to wink at you, and his coolness wore off the second he exited the shop, a silent shrieking scream exited his mouth as he freaked out.

Your sketch. On his arm.

You. Tattoo artist. Metal fan.

You, kissing him on the cheek, talking to him for hours, laughing at his idiotic jokes.

You.

Eddie was sure he lost his mind, hands shaking as he reached for the card in his back pocket.

The card was black and the title on it was dripping with blood. He whined.

How much cooler were you going to get?

He gulped when he looked back, seeing you toward the clear glass door, and he knew.

He knew that if he didn't do it now, he could never do it, this was his only fucking chance, and he couldn't be a coward, not now, not when you were this close to him.

Eddie entered back into the shop in a frenzy, causing your head to pop up swiftly as you looked at him dumbfounded.

God, you were so gorgeous he could feel his heart skip a beat.

“C—can I ask you something?” He cleared his throat to not appear nervous, and you nodded, furiously.

“Look, I know this is weird and all... but... uhm, I really feel like we connected,” He muttered, fingers tapping against the glass counter that you were standing behind in.

“And I thought maybe... uhhh... I could like—get your number or somethin'?” He uttered anxiously, tilting his head slightly to the side, and you couldn't help the giggle that escaped your lips.

And even though why you laughed was reasonable, it was the worst fucking thing you could have done to Eddie.

Especially when your laugh seemed so mocking, almost different than the ones you gave him earlier before. Jogging deep into this memory of the countless times when Eddie tried to pluck up the courage to ask girls in his class out, only to be laughed in his face, or to have them insult him.

But this was more than that, it pained him.

It pained him to think that you thought of him like the others did. Like you saw him as an outsider, too.

His bubble of confidence that was already wavering was even quicker to fizzle out, he could feel that familiar lump in his throat, shoulders slumping as his gaze was quick to show his emotions.

He was hurt. And he was sure this hurt much more than a thousand needles breaking the barriers of his skin, “Uhhh,” He gave you a bitter chuckle. “Just.... never mind” He added, defeatedly turning back around to exit the shop once again as he ignored you calling out for him.

“Wait!” You yelled out after him, but Eddie started walking faster.

“Shit shit shit!” You cursed yourself for your little joke.

“Eds, please!” You called out again, this time effective enough to make Eddie stop in his tracks.

Eds. Oh you knew how to get him hooked, how to get him right where you wanted him.

And he hated himself for being this weak for you, someone he met, just recently.

“What?” He answered coldly, glaring at you with bitterness that made you want to hide out, that gentle soul in him disappearing in mere seconds.

And you sighed, hating that he could ever see you as someone that would make fun of him.

“Flip the card,” Your gaze on him was intense, cheeks growing hot again knowing that you were going to see his reaction to your stupid note.

“I don't have time for your bullshit” He spat, almost on his feet to leave.

You sighed. “Eds, just... will you just please flip the card?” You asked, all prettily that Eddie couldn't help but oblige, but be gentle with you again because he couldn't resist it. He couldn't resist you.

He huffed as he plucked the card out of the back pocket of his jeans, turning it over in one swift motion.

'CALL ME IF U NEED A GROUPIE' and your digits were attached right below it.

His gaze softened immediately, head drooping further as he huffed at himself.

He felt stupid, so fucking stupid.

Why did he ever think you would treat him like the others?

His chest expanded with hope when he looked back up at you, a soft smile graced his lips.

“Oh,” He muttered, not able to help the childish grin that was now stuck to his lips.

“Shut up,” You giggled, nudging him slightly.

“You owe me,” You narrowed your eyes sarcastically, causing his brows to quip.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” He asked, a newfound confidence washing him over when you were so easy to talk to.

“A date,” You beamed, scrunching your nose.

“Okay.” The words left his lips quickly, too quickly that it had you feeling giddy inside.

“How about tomorrow?” He didn't even know how he managed to get those words out without stuttering.

“Uhm—sure.” You were the one stuttering now, cheeks burning up as you could barely look at him. His grin was sickly inviting.

“I'll pick you up at 8?” You nodded so quickly that you were sure your head was about to fall off.

“See you tomorrow,” His voice was sultry as he winked again, making you almost melt, looking cool on the surface when all he wanted to do was go home, freak the fuck out, tell Wayne all about the cool girl who tattooed him, and not be able to sleep until your date tomorrow.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x tattoo artist!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine

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bloobluebloo · 2 months

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OKAY so now that I have a moment.

On the framing of Imperialism in LoZ lore in general. This is a little long so I will put it under a read more.

So, I've often seen that, in the criticism of TotK's story and how it frames imperialism, that other LoZ games come up where it has been demonstrated that the Kingdom of Hyrule's hands are not clean. It feels like a lot of people bring this up with the argument that the lore was showing that Hyrule was morally gray. Yet, when you look at the framing of these misdeeds, that doesn't seem to be the case. The most pertinent example of this is the Shadow Temple in OoT where it has been insinuated that the Royal Family did torture enemies of the crown. There is also the rampant racism that is directed towards the Gerudo, the Sheikah having all but disappeared except the one Sheikah who also happens to be a servant of the Royal Family, the Kakariko well, the tomb of the Royal Family overrun by redead, and the Civil War for which no explanation is offered except that the end result was the unification of Hyrule. (I know there is a manga that explains that the Civil War bgean as some sort of dispute between the Goron and the Zora but, as I understand, it is not an officially licensed manga and thus not canon. Regardless.)

Twilight Princess seemed to be the most overt in its exploration of Hyrule's dark past. We learn that Hyrule had a habit of dumping its criminals into the Twilight Realm, ignorant or (or very likely) refusing to acknowledge that there were people living already there, that the Gerudo desert is devoid of Gerudo save for the Arbiter's Grounds which serve as a Hyrulean prison and execution ground, and how these people living in Hyrule's shadow not only held mistrust for the dwellers of light but actively hated them too.

Then you have A Link Between Worlds which, while Lorule isn't *exactly* Hyrule, it is framed as a reflection of Hyurle. It demonstrates that, if a kingdom is in a dire condition, that a reasonable solution would be to attempt to take the very artifact that would save it from another kingdom, even at that other kingdom's expense. Hilda is the antagonist but she is framed in a sympathetic light, as someone who had the best interests of her people at heart and would not have harmed anyone otherwise. (Funny how Ganondorf is never afforded that sort of grace. When he expressed that his homeland was plagued with drought and suffering the solution was to destroy him and everything he ever held dear. Moving on.)

The wilds era also explained where the Yiga came from, that they were the Sheikah that refused to bow to Hyrule's demands that they dismantle the very technology that they had built in service to it, that they were persecuted and chased out for their refusal. In the present, they are seen as a cult that are unreasonable, a joke, and meant to be dismissed and annihilated. These are but a few pretty obvious examples. However, my point isn't to prove that LoZ lore did demonstrate that Hyrule itself has perpetuated crimes of its own, but how they choose to frame said crimes. You, as the player, learn these things but you learn them in a matter-of-fact manner, and you never question it afterwards. This violence that Hyrule perpetuates is simply the cost of business in keeping a peaceful kingdom. Because Hyrule's intentions, just like Hilda's, supposedly stem from a desire to bring peace, order, and light to the kingdom, their violence is seen as something good and divinely ordained. As a result, when you learn about it, no matter how horrific it is, you are sort of made to simply store this knowledge in mind and continue with your efforts in preserving the status quo. The kingdom is restored to its original state at the end of your journey, and the people who have been victim to Hyrule's violence simply are meant to persist and accept that this is their fate, never given any sort of acknowledgement in how they suffered. Now, some may argue that, in Twilight Princess, the plight of Midna's people was acknowledged. However, the framing for their suffering largely puts the blame on Zant and Ganondorf, and doesn't quite make it so obvious that this entire mess is a result of Hyrule's actions over hundreds of years. It is there, subtle in the background, just like everything else we ever learn when it comes to Hyrule and its less than stellar deeds. In fact, one of Midna's big character moments is acknowledging that the dwellers of light were not as bad as she had imagined they would be which, was she wrong to have misgivings to begin with? Meanwhile, when someone like Ganondorf enacts violence, his actions are framed as not only evil, but selfish. There is absolutely no other reasoning for his violence beside his own selfish desire. Even in moments where he does reveal that his desire stemmed from overseeing a kingdom that was suffering, he is still treated as someone acting selfishly, as someone who did not act on behalf of his people. Why is that? Why is it that when Hyrule tortures and expels people that they are seen as acting in the name of the collective good, but when Ganondorf, a king in his own right, does it it must stem from selfish desire? A lot of people, for example, like to point to OoT Ganondorf as being very evil because of his actions against the Kokiri, the Zora, and the Goron, but did what he do really differ from what he had witnessed Hyrule do to anyone who opposed them? I do like the angle that some people mention, that he purposefully uses the title King of Evil in a more tongue-in-cheek manner because he is willing to acknowledge that what he is doing IS evil, unlike Hyrule who insists that anything they do is good.

The point I'm trying to get at here is that, while it is great that LoZ lore does recount of Hyrule's dark past, its framing isn't to depict Hyrule as a morally gray entity. It is framed to depict that any kingdom, or empire, in seeking order and stability, does have a "right" to react with righteous violence in order to maintain said order. So long as this violence is done in the name of preserving the empire, it is acceptable no matter how violent. Meanwhile, anything done that resists or opposes the empire, no matter how small, is seen as evil and must be eradicated, no matter what the reason. We know this for a fact because the majority of the fandom doesn't acknowledge that Hyrule has done any wrong, no matter what you learn about it. Princess Zelda is her princess and Link is her hero so how can they be wrong? This is also imperialist rhetoric.

#admiral's log #ganonthots

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pathetic-sapphic · 7 months

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Arcane characters with chef!reader who always cooks for them? 👀👀

Arcane characters with a S/O who cooks for them

VI knows how to cook some basic meals, but most of the time is too lazy to do so. She mostly eats takeout food or goes to Jericho's when she can afford it. Of course, you come to the rescue and she becomes obsessed with your cooking. Will plead with you to make her favorite by doing her signature puppy eyes (it works every time). Likes to help you out or at least keep you company by hugging you from behind and begging you to let her do taste tests. The taste tests are basically useless because she loves anything you make and always says it's perfect. This woman would lowkey eat dirt as long as you're the one who served it to her.

JINX can't cook for the life of her and any kitchen she enters is automatically turned into a fire hazard so please keep an eye on her at all times. She'll be perched up on one of the kitchen counters whenever you're cooking and will ramble about anything and everything, looking at your graceful moves the entire time. Always compliments on how good the food smells and gets really impatient, asking if the food is ready every minute or so. It's a good idea to keep her busy by asking her to set the table or chop some veggies for you, she'll gladly do it (anything to help her trinket!). She loves feeling useful, and having you helps keep her in good health since, before she met you, she had a habit of skipping meals due to being distracted by her work most of the time. Now, that can never happen because Jinx would never pass up an opportunity to eat her beloved trinket's food.

CAITLYN tries, she really does, but cooking is one activity where her precise skills and accuracy completely evade her. It's like all her gracefulness leaves her as soon as she enters the kitchen. She is also quite busy with her work so she really appreciates it when you start packing her lunch every day for her. Thinks it's super sweet and domestic, lowkey giggles sweetly if you include silly and cute little notes in her lunchbox. Gladly helps you by setting up the table and doing the grocery shopping whenever she can, as well as spoiling you with the best cooking equipment and cookbooks that she can afford. Whenever the two of you go out on fancy restaurant dates, it doesn't matter how good the food is, Caitlyn will complain about how it just isn't as good as yours.

EKKO has had to take care of himself since early age so he has some mean cooking tricks and recipes up his sleeve. He is no chef, but still very good! One of his favorite pastimes is cooking with you, because not only does he get to learn new recipes, but he also gets to hang out with his babe! Sure, a food fight may happen here and there, with the two of you getting a little carried away with the flour, but that's what makes it so enjoyable and domestic. Ekko is a quick learner and an excellent company to have around, although he can sometimes pose a bit of a distraction by trying to sneak in kisses and hugs while you're dangerously close to the stove. He just can't help himself whenever he is around you, luckily his reflexes are sharp so you definitely won't get hurt as long as he is by your side. Gives you shoulder kisses from behind whenever you're cooking.

SEVIKA is a surprisingly good cook, it's just that on most days she doesn't have the time nor the energy to do it, especially if it's only for herself. So the cooking is probably up to you most of the time. Not to mention that she also has a bit of a housewife kink so seeing you doing something so domestic and taking such good care of her makes Sevika's heart skip a beat. Another partner who likes hugging you from behind whenever she finds you in the kitchen, nuzzling her nose in your neck and commenting on how good the food smells. Every once in a while, she likes to surprise you with breakfast in bed, just as a little show of appreciation for all that you do for her. Please pack her work lunch in the most disgustingly cute lunchbox you can find, she'll eat it without shame. Anyone who dares laugh at her is getting punched in the face.

With how busy he is all the time, SILCO barely eats let alone cooks. So he is pleasantly surprised when you start bringing cooked meals to his office. He used to consider himself a picky eater but that proves to be false as he would gladly eat literally anything as long as it's made by you. Tries to go home earlier so he can always make it in time to have dinner with you, only to later unwind with a glass of wine and you in his arms. Does the dishes whenever he can, you've already done so much by preparing such a lovely meal, you deserve to rest now. Silco always sings you praises and showers you with compliments for your cooking skills, also sometimes jokes about how he's going to have to buy clothes that are a size bigger if you continue feeding him like this. He actually looks much healthier and has more energy ever since he started eating your food, it's quite endearing to see.

VANDER loves cooking and is an amazing cook himself, always experimenting and trying out new recipes. After all, he and his four kids cannot survive on takeout and scraps alone. So, he learned how to cook once he adopted his children. He is so happy to have a partner with whom he shares this passion and the two of you often cook together. He is a lovely company to have around, working diligently and making pleasant small talk, oftentimes humming one of his favorite songs while chopping veggies or overlooking a boiling pot of soup. Vander sometimes lets the music take over and sweeps you up into his arms, slow dancing with you in the kitchen while a pleasant melody and an even more pleasant smell fills out the room. He is so happy when he sees how much the kids love your cooking as he values their opinion over anyone else's. Vander is at his happiest when sharing a meal with you and the children, all of you sitting happily at the table, chatting and enjoying the delicious food like a wonderful family.

VIKTOR can make an omelette and oatmeal and uh... that's about it. He eats enough (and sometimes not even that) to survive and keep working, barely remembering to eat and drink water properly throughout the day. You were obviously worried out of your mind when you noticed this and started making him warm, homemade meals and bringing them to him. As busy as he is, Viktor can never say no to you or reject anything you try to give him so he gladly gives your cooking a try. It's safe to say that this man is in love, there's a literal spark in his eyes the first time you feed him a hot meal and he makes sure to sing you praises afterward. He is positively in love with your cooking and you make sure he eats at least two cooked meals a day which greatly aids his health. After a month or two, his hollow cheeks don't seem so hollow anymore and he can swear he feels much more refreshed and energetic than he did before. Viktor truly thinks of you as his savior and he knows he owes his life to you for all that you have done for him. No matter what happens, he'll always have you to come home to, to love him and take care of him.

a/n: i wasn't sure which characters you'd like so i decided on these! if there's anyone i missed, feel free to lmk :)

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pjoxreader · 1 year

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Helping Reader With Insomnia

Leo Valdez:

-I feel like he’s often up late at night too, his mind is just constantly working to the point that he doesn’t want to lay down! But once you two do eventually hit the wall you’ll both pile into bed. The best way to get you both to sleep is for you to mess with his hair as he holds you close, you’ll both be out like a light in just a few minutes. Frank Zhang:

-He is easily the best person to go to if you’re having trouble sleeping. He could transform into any fuzzy, fluffy or soft animal that you’d want. Do you need a big old bear hug? He’ll give you a bear hug, literally.

Percy Jackson:

-He’ll put on a 24/7 whale call stream and fill you in on the gossip of the ocean. It never fails to make you laugh hearing the stories that Percy tells you, honestly you’re pretty sure half of them are false because they’re so crazy but you still love it either way. Annabeth Chase:

-She’s another person I could see being up late, but she knows it’s bad and gets to work on looking up ways to help herself and you.. Any caffeine was cut from your diet before bed, much to your misery. The two of you would make time before bed to just cuddle and read a book. Unfortunately you both end up just staying up even longer getting absorbed in the book. Hazel Levesque:

-She’d bring you tea before bed time to help soothe your nerves. She’s always so kind to you. If you're hard at work in your room she’ll come in with some healthy snacks and tea to help get you to sleep. If you end up crashing at your desk she’d bring you a pillow and a blanket to make sure you’re comfortable. Jason Grace:

-He’d offer to work out with you before bed, that’s what always helps him out! Of course you’d be tired after a hard workout, it always works for him! You cave and give it a try, Jason pushing you to your limit and beyond as he cheers you on every step of the way. Of course you were utterly exhausted and ended up falling asleep before Jason could even finish his workout. Piper Mclean:

-A nice warm bath, there’s nothing better to help soothe your nerves and honestly it’s nice to enjoy the warm water with her. You two both just relaxing and enjoying this moment of vulnerability between each other. Nico Di Angelo:

-He’s always up late at night, honestly if you thought your sleep schedule was bad it made you feel ten times better seeing Nico’s. You start by sleeping whenever he does, just wanting to snuggle with him. Eventually you find that the both of you had ended up sleeping through the night. By helping Nico with his sleep schedule you ended up saving your own as well! Reyna Ramírez-Arellano:

-It’s only once you two start to date do you realize Reyna had a gentler side. She of course had trouble sleeping with her work constantly on her mind. But she also couldn’t afford to not sleep and she was very intent on getting you to sleep as well. You both end up doing meditation with some candles before bed to help you relax. ~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

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in-daddy-price-we-trust · 1 year

Text

All I Wanted - Part 1

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence

Part 2

A/N: this is like my first fanfic in a while, and first on tumblr (yay!) any tips and tricks would be so helpful!

this also plans to be a series but posting might and will be inconsistent, thank you in advance!

You always had a difficult life. Being abused by your parents up until you ran away at 13. After you ran away, you got in with the wrong type of people, promises of hope and money, food and validation was all they needed to say to get you hooked in their business of organised crime. Some good came out of it however, they gave you a home and how to defend yourself. They taught you how to shoot a gun and the best place to make someone bleed. They taught you nothing else mattered except them, they became your new family.

You were 15 when you were tasked with transporting a couple crates of weaponry and drugs. The organisation you joined knew you well enough and practically raised you to be the strongest you were. So one cargo ship to Amsterdam later, you find yourself in a rotting, metal warehouse, wearing pink apparel, pink puffy skirt and a white hello-kitty shirt. A baby pink cardigan is draped over your shoulders and over-the-knee white knitted socks. A chrome covered knife strapped to your thigh.

“Zus, how much for it all?” he stood across from you, a cigarette lit between his lips taking a long drag as you assessed his question. His black, slicked back hair elongated his face and the three piece suit almost made this deal professional.

“How much are you offering?” was all you said as a small smile graced your lips, ‘the higher the offer, the better’ you remember being told before you left. They weren’t the best weapons but they were definitely worth at least a couple K.

“25”

a grimace, “80”

a growl, “40”

a hum, “55”

“65. Final offer,” his teeth were bared, almost like he was sweating already.

A sinister, sweet smile stretched across your face, “Wonderful, and how are you wanting to transfer that?” out of seemingly nowhere you pulled out a notepad and pen, writing down the bank details before you gave him a pointed look, “You have one week to transfer the money, or I will have your head.”

His face paled, almost embarrassingly so. For how innocent you appeared to be, you knew how to handle yourself in these situations. You turned to walk away, the sound of baby pink mary janes clacking against the concrete as you bounced towards the rusted metal doors, sliding them open as you looked back at the man one final time, “It was a pleasure doing business with you,” and leaving.

You were good at your job. It was easy, for the most part. Gather intel, pass forward that intel. Transfer somewhat illegal items from one holder to another. So it comes to you as a bit of a surprise when you exit through the dusty doors when a bullet wizzes past your face, luckily just missing you. Swiftly pulling out the hand-gun out your waistband and shooting in their direction. You wish you had your sniper, but it was left in the hotel room you managed to stay at.

As you shot in the direction of the fire, you failed to notice someone sneaking out behind you, kicking your knees in. Dirt caked your socks as the grip on your gun became loose. Acting as quick as possible, you flipped onto your back, retching the knife from its holster. Before you could act, black invaded your vision as you felt pain shoot from your head. Shit.

White light invaded your vision, a grumbled swear leaving your dry lips at the pounding in your head. "Jesus Christ," your wrists hurt, rubbed raw by the shitty metal handcuffs they strapped you in, "Whose bedroom did you get these out of? Couldn't even afford good quality cuffs?" fell out of your mouth before you could think to stop it. No one reacted.

It was a van, you could tell that much. The interior white with small wooden benches lining it. Two men sat on either side of you whilst the other two sat across. From what you could make out, another pair sat at the front, driving to this unknown destination.

Maybe you should have been more scared. More begging for them not to hurt you. Four big, burly military men could definitely kill you much easier than you kill them.

They studied you like you studied them. The one on your left was most likely the oldest, a fisherman's hat upon his head and mutton chops-moustache combo was the dead give away. He had his eyes closed and arms crossed across his chest, legs spread wide.

You couldn't make out the one on your right quite as well. A black balaclava with painted white skeletal teeth paired well with the upper half of the skull mask he wore. He seemed to be in a similar position as grandpa, although he had an ankle resting on his knee instead, head tilted back against the cool metal of the van.

The two across from you seemed younger. One had a darker complexion, his eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression. He was smaller than the rest but no doubtfully as strong.

Lastly was the man with a mohawk. His eyes bore into you the most, not so angry and more trying to figure out who you were. Breaking you apart and putting you back together with his eyes. Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. His face morphed into one of slight surprise before rolling his eyes and looking towards the front.

It was quiet. The hum from the light ticking like a clock in your ear. Trying to gauge where you were and how much time had passed, your foot started tapping on the floor.

"Stop," A gruff voice said suddenly making you jump before mumbling a sorry at the skull-faced man. It was quiet again. It numbed your senses, sending shivers down your spine. Gravel sounded under the tires before voices outside sounded, signalling your arrival.

The doors pulled open, sunlight shining in. As mohawk and shorty left, skully pulled your arm to tug you along out with him, a short yelp escaping past your lips at the action.

You tripped over your feet, pins and needles shooting up your legs from sitting for so long. "Can you be gentle?" you spoke as you found your footing, "Please?" it was tacked on at the end for at least the tiniest bit of sympathy.

Skully looked down at you as he continued to drag you towards what you hoped was a five-star hotel with bed and breakfast. At least your death would be a quick one.

The halls blurred together until you were sitting in a leather chair in someone's office, back to the door, although you felt the looming presence of the men behind you. Mutters were heard outside before the door clicked opened, footsteps and a click again.

Gramps stood in front of you, leaning over the dark stained oak table. He had a file in his hand, putting it on the desk before sliding it over to you. "What do you know of El Sin Nombre?" it wasn't as much of a question than you'd like but an order for information.

Your mouth was so dry it felt like you swallowed cotton. As much as you wished to answer him, you look at him with furrowed brows and a confused expression. It took you a couple minutes before words formed in your throat, "Who?".

He didn't enjoy that answer. One of his hands slapping on the desk as he seethed, repeating the question again as if that would change your answer.

"I don't know who that is! I can't help you," you felt that burning sensation under your eyes as you desperately tried to convey your emotions. Tears meant weakness, and that's the one thing you didn't want to show to your captors right now.

Pairs of eyes hammered into your head. You felt like a child again, staring down at your toes being told off for not doing the dishes or not being quick enough to grab a beer. You braced for the hits, the punches to your ribs as you made promises that fell on the deaf ears of your mother and father.

"Price," A voice sounded behind you, soft and comforting. An accent coated the words that flowed through the air you didn't pick up on. The more time passed the more your eyes stung, tears slipping past your defences. Shoulders shaking as you try to curl into yourself, strings of "I don't know" and "I'm sorry" being nothing more than mumbles.

The room grew cold and quiet as you sobbed. Footsteps couldn't be heard over your own cries, so when an arm wrapped around your shoulders, you jolted. Expecting this is where you get hit. Bracing for the impact and sting they usually brought with them.

Instead, the arm pulled you into their chest, hugging you close and stroking your hair, along with shushing you softly. It only made you sob harder. When was the last time someone hugged you like this? Sure, you got the occasional pat on the back for a job well done, but never an embrace like this.

Time passed through your fingers like sand, not knowing how long you sat there for before you calmed down. The arms didn't pull away until you did, cringing at the wet patch you left on the man's shirt. Speaking of, you looked up to see mohawk looking down at you, eyes soft and an equally soft smile. "Y're alright now lass?" his accent leaked into the words, a curt nod allowing him to pull away and stand up again.

A heavy sigh sounded above you as you dragged your eyes up to meet who you presumed was this 'Price' figure. "What’s your name?"

Gears turned over the question in your head, thinking of an answer. Technically, you lost your name when you left home, gaining a couple new names at the gang.

Your silence was taken for an answer. "What are you doing in Amsterdam?" this you could answer.

"A business exchange. I'm just the messenger, I don't know any of the customers - I promise! - I just get the money and dip. I promise I can't help you-" you were hyperventilating at this point.

"It's alright sweetheart, deep breaths, calm down for me, yeah?" Price's voice was gentle now, seemingly not wanting the same thing to happen.

"Can you tell us where you're from? Who you work for?" He asked once he saw you calm down.

"Uhm- I'm from England. And I don't really work for them but I'm a doberman. They're some organisation that took me in," you weren't really interested in going into full depths of your life with these complete strangers.

Although, you felt the gazes lift off you and onto Price, his own eyes looking back at his men, a million silent conversations happening right above your head. Price inhaled sharply before he asked his last question, "How old are?"

"15." The air knocked out of his lungs.

#ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #price x reader #captain john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #soap x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #141 x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod #call of duty fanfic #x reader

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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worshipper!soap plsplspls i beg u

No need to beg, friend! Worshipper!Soap, coming right up.

Johnny is someone who likes to joke, everyone knows about it. He's on battlefields constantly, places where hope and light is far away, where it's so dark and dreary. He and other soldiers need the lightness of his jokes, just to remind themselves of what's waiting for them back home—life.

But he absolutely does not joke about his partner and how divine you are. As previously stated, Johnny's usually the one who gets everyone laughing and feeling good, but You? Your light is unlike any other's.

Your laughter makes the air feel so much lighter, Your smile brightens up any room, even one that had been previously dark. He can't get over Your divinity and he never wants to.

I imagine You stumbled into his life, quite literally. You were just bringing up Your groceries home to Your flat, walking up the stairs and stepping onto the landing of Your floor just as Johnny was about to step down onto the stairs. He hadn't seen You (because that's the only way he would've missed Your divine self) because he had been talking on the phone to Gaz and you two collided.

He had been quick to reach out and steady You, his blue eyes moving to look into your eyes (no matter what eye color you have, it's now his favorite eye color and he insists that no one else's eyes are as bright and benevolent as yours). His breath caught in his chest at the sight of You, his only thoughts being on how bright You seemed to be.

You exuded divinity and benevolence, it wafting off of You in waves. He could tell that You were one of a kind, a deity. And so, he was quick to start worshipping You right then and there, helping You gather Your groceries and helping You take them inside.

For days afterwards, Johnny gravitates towards You, aching to be in Your divine presence. He memorizes which of his jokes make You laugh the hardest, memorizes what You tell him are Your favorite food, color, etc. If You tell him Your favorite food is pink, he's buying pink things immediately. He's buying—or cooking Your favorite foods, feeling so blessed whenever he sees Your bright smile when he brings his offerings to You over.

He'll talk the 141's ear off about You, growling and snapping if they even dare to suggest You're not the deity he insists You are. How can You not be a deity? They just don't know what they're talking about, Johnny decides. They haven't met You after all, only Johnny knows how divine You are.

Speaking of growling and snapping at others, Johnny is a mix of devotee and guard dog. You're so kind that You must be worshipped, but You also must be protected. He sees the way others rake their lecherous stares up and down Your holy body, and he won't have that. Even if You're not yet dating, he's not letting any creeps around You. He won't let Your divinity and kindness be taken advantage of, not that You're helpless. No, You can take care of Yourself when defending Yourself from creeps, You just don't have to. Your most devoted servant is here for that.

When you two finally start dating, You're the one who musters up the courage to ask him out. And Johnny swears he's in heaven at that moment, but no, You're just so kind to deem him worthy of being Your lover. He easily scrounges up whatever money he has and takes You out to the fanciest restaurant he can afford, because a deity like You deserves the best of the best! He's in heaven the entire time, cherishing every single moment he has with You.

Thank You, Kind and Merciful One. Thank You for gracing him with Your beauty and divinity. He's kissing Your feet and worshipping the ground You walk on. He's Yours forever and he never wants that to change.

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scintillyyy · 29 days

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okay. so the thing with fridging--the thing with fridging! is that i feel like it's become shorthand for any woman's death or perhaps any character's death that was used to further another character's story and that's. a bit off what the *idea* was when gail simone first made her her women in refrigerators website/list. which, is still available and free to peruse at your own leisure here.

so when gail simone created the women in refrigerators website/idea, it was not actually meant to condemn any of the deaths or disabilities or awful things that had *happened* to those women. it's purpose, first and foremost, was a question:

(from the front page of gail simone's website, linked above)

i'll put the rest under a cut for length

all women in refrigerators was, at its heart, was gail noticing that female characters she loved often met rather awful ends at a rather high frequency. & the point of women in refrigerators was not that these awful things shouldn't have happened to these characters, even gail was aware that it a medium like comic book people were going to have terrible things happen to them for the drama of the story, see:

--it was a question on whether 1) other people thoght she was looking too much into it & seeing something that wasn't there (she originally posted the list on a comic book sites and the response she got was, i guess rather...vitriolic at the very idea she would raise questions about whether women were treated worse than in comic books) and 2) whether other people agreed there was even a problem to begin with. it was a conversation, not a shaming, not a callout. gail's letter she sent to the creators are there. their responses discussing the issue & whether they thought there was one was all there! women in refrigerators was not meant to be condemning of those stories that had a women die for the sake of a man, it was a basic starting question much like a bechdel test is just a basic starting question--not meant to be some gotcha, just the starting point of a much greater conversation.

and not every creator agreed with her premise! there were absolutely arguments about how bad things also happen to male characters. characters like jason todd and uncle ben *in particular* were used to defend the fact that women in refrigerators wasn't some big conspiracy against women in comics, that the bad things that happened to them were just conceits of the genre. others agreed with gail that there was a problem there (ie/women tended to be more affected by these things than me) that they should probably try to do better about in the future. other creators agreed, but then went to go on to justify why their female character in particular needed to go in the fridge. mark millar, who would later go on to write kick-ass said, and i quote: "granted, the female stuff has more of a sexual violence theme and this is something people should probably watch out for, but rape is a rare thing in comics and is seldom done in an exploitative way." ron marz himself responds to alex's death!

because fridging isn't about one death. it's about a trend of awful things happening to women, often far more awful and gratuitous than happens to men, at a far more frequent rate. but fridging also doesn't mean that every individual death or disability is a problem or than individual deaths and disability shouldn't happen. the problem is the sum of the parts, not that this one character was used one time specifically to give pain to another character.

which is why the fridging conversation generally doesn't and can't cover a lot of protagonist male characters--because of the ways their deaths are usually handled with grace, autonomy, guarantee of long term grieving, and a dignity that women characters aren't afforded. it's why, though, you can use the fridging problem as a baseline model for how characters of color and infants often are treated in comparison & why those of far more apt comparisons--because they're often used in similar, concerningly frequent ways to affect protagonist characters with no consideration to the thought there may be a larger problem at hand there. (consider war games: an event designed specifically to cut down what was considered excessive bloat of the batfamily designed to kill off steph & gavin king. why, when the decision to kill them off was made was steph even given consideration of a heroic swan song arc where she was given the reward of robin as a consolation prize for her upcoming death & an entire heroic redemption arc from making a mistake -> fighting to rectify that mistake and learning the true meaning of her heroism while gavin king is not given any consideration in his own death--he was a pawn in a plan he was unaware of, there only to get his throat slit & his identity used for evil)

#anyways actually reading the women in refrigerators site should be a prelude #to talking about fridging i feel

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ro-sham-no · 1 month

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Sam dies again, shortly after being resurrected by Dean’s crossroad demon deal. It was an accident, just a hazard of the job. Dean couldn’t stop it.

Dean goes crazy after it happens. He has no more soul left to bargain with. He goes numb.

He couldn’t care less about his inevitable, one-way trip to Hell, the moot deal that it now is. Nothing could be worse than this wretched hopelessness, the gnawing blackness that grows inside him with every passing moment. His thoughts plague him,

Is Sam even in heaven? After all the demons’ taunts about him coming back Wrong- had Dean doomed him, his baby brother, his son, his boy, to Hell?

Sammy's gone, and Dean’s soul is still sold, and it's so unfair-

Dean’s kept Sam’s corpse- Sam, he’s kept Sam, again. Has laid him out on a shitty, stained mattress. Again. He’s also laid out every single fireable weapon in their considerable arsenal next to Sam on the bed, all loaded. Every second that goes by, the itch to grab them gets stronger.

He’s out of options. Trying another crossroads demon had done nothing. Frantic, useless researching about resurrection, which he’d already done the first time - nothing. Praying to god, for the first time ever, saying please, please, I know I’m fresh out of any sort of Grace, but surely you can see that He’s not. Sammy doesn’t deserve to be in Hell, please-

Nothing.

The guns on the mattress glare at him. All gleaming, metallic resilience, taunting him, sitting so starkly cold next to Dean’s dead baby brother. Dean’s hands haven’t given up their tell-tale tremor since it happened. Since Sam---

The tremor is one that he’s felt on and off throughout the years - only appearing on those not-so-rare occasions where Sam had taken hits just hard enough, gotten cuts just deep enough that Dean would have the Thought strike through him like lightning,

Sam might not come back from this one.

The end of Dean’s sleeve is soaked as it covers his trembling hand, what is probably snot and spit mixing in with more and more tears as he alternates between pitiful comforts. Wedging his shaking hands deep into the sockets of his eyes as he convulses through his sobs and cries, then shifting them to press tensely against his teeth through his lips, trying in vain to calm down and keep quiet, and then moving to his nose to wipe away the aftermath and start all over again.

Sam’s not coming back from this one.

I failed.

It’s over.

Dean abruptly stands, shoving and tearing the guns away, violently shoving his sleeve to his face to dry it, having to move up higher on his arm each time as his sleeves caught more of his heart leaking out of his eyes, nose, and mouth. He lets all but Sam’s beloved Taurus recklessly fall to the floor.

His stupid, beloved Taurus that the kid’d saved up enough money to buy for himself - all honest-earned money, after getting a grocery store job he applied for the second he turned 14. Cheap-ass Brazilian gun, Dad had called it with derision, but he’d let Sam buy it all the same.

Dean had thought, at the time, that Sam’s choice of gun was just because it was, in fact, affordable and non-American (Sam was never shy about his lack of patriotism, even when Dad gave him all the more hell for it). But he hadn’t caught Sam slipping away to pawn shops and military resale stores while Dad was away and Dean worked dead-end odd jobs to pay the bills like civilians for a while. But then Sam had found it, them, and then Dean had certainly noticed.

See, when Sam had first gotten the thing, it came with practical black grips. Factory standard, since Sam had wanted it new - forever a priss about owning something that wasn’t secondhand. But then, unbeknownst to Dean, Sam had searched high and low to find what he wanted, what he knew existed because he had seen it in a gun magazine once (he had frantically torn out the page as soon as he saw it, hidden in the back of the gas station and waiting for Dean to stop flirting with the cashier). So, Sam had saved up and played the long game, pawn shop after pawn shop, and it paid off.

He’d replaced the black grips - not speaking a peep to either Dean or Dad about it - with pearl ones. And sure, it wasn’t ivory, necessarily, and the stainless steel of the Taurus wasn’t exactly nickel-plated, but the effect was the same.

Sam’s very first gun of his own, which he bought with his own, labor-earned cash, oh-so-clearly fashioned after Dean’s.

And now here it is, cradled against Dean’s chest. He’d crawled into bed with Sam at some point during his weepy recollection, resting his head on Sam’s chest in oppositional mimicry of how they would lay together as kids. Sam, curled up under Dean’s chin, forever trying to make himself smaller in Dean’s arms even as he grew bigger.

But it’s Dean’s turn to be small. Dean’s turn, as he tugs Sam’s (cold, lifeless) arm over his back in a weak embrace, slipping his arm around Sam as best he can, squeezing and holding tight as he shakes apart. Sam’s Taurus is gripped surely in Dean’s hand, pressed under his chin.

His Colt, after which the Taurus had been so lovingly, painstakingly fashioned, lies discarded on the ground.

#(#gencest #samdean #devotion #codependency #dean winchester #dean whump #ro writing tag #)

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tenebris-lux · 6 months

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You know, while we’re waiting for something to happen in Varna, I wanna gush (and I do mean gush) about an earlier entry and its performance in Re: Dracula: Seward’s diary, October 1, 4am.

First, a note on a detail in Re: Dracula. The part where all the guys said one after another that they all wanted to meet Renfield….

“May I come also?” asked Lord Godalming.

“Me too?” said Quincey Morris. “May I come?” said Harker.

The way Seward said “said Harker”, he sounds so annoyed! Like, “Ugh, FINE, everybody come. All of a sudden my patient is the most popular guy around.” The delivery for just that little line in Re: Dracula made me grin.

But onto to the meat of the entry.

Renfield pulled out ALL the stops in trying to convince Seward to take him out of the asylum. He did everything he could to impress on Seward that he was on the same page as any other guy, even ahead a little—intelligence, reasonability, culture, diplomacy, you name it. He took full advantage of the entourage that followed Seward. The pointed way Trench said the line, “By the way, you have not introduced me,” had the emphasis meant to put Seward on the spot—‘who appears less civilized here? In company?’ He then shows respect for everyone in the room named, displaying knowledge, grace, courtesy, charm, what have you. He was probably not expecting everybody to show up, so he had to improvise. But right off the top of his head, he was able to impress on each of them that he’s not “lesser”.

The pure charisma he displayed made a slight impression on Seward, kind of a knee-jerk reaction to go, “Yeah, sure, you seem perfectly fine, I’ll draw up the paperwork…” But then Seward catches himself. Unfortunately. Still, if Seward had been at all professional about Renfield in his treatment of him so far, him saying he’d talk to him more about it in the morning might not have been unreasonable. And if Renfield didn’t have an ulterior motive to leave the asylum right then, he could’ve possibly taken the opportunity to try to impress him more; not play Seward’s twisted mind games. Unfortunately, he could not afford to wait. At all. So he insists that time is of the essence and he has to go now.

“He looked at me keenly, and seeing the negative in my face, turned to the others, and scrutinized them closely. Not meeting any sufficient response, he went on:—

‘Is it possible that I have erred in my supposition?’

‘You have,’ I said frankly, but at the same time, as I felt, brutally. There was a considerable pause, and then he said slowly:—

‘Then I suppose I must only shift my ground of request….’”

“Brutally” is right. Jack’s voice was very blunt and short in Re: Dracula, and it was audible in Renfield’s voice that the wheels were turning; like, ‘how can I get through to this guy? I thought I was onto something there, but … Plan B then.’ His Plan B is a little more direct, less certain, and involves more crossing one’s fingers: appeal to Seward’s compassion, and try to tell him why he wants out so soon, which … ugh, isn’t much. That’s why he threw his all into plan A; plan B was extremely uncertain at best.

Still reasonably, he says he has reasons for wanting out, that it’s for the sake of others. But he can’t tell him why. Just … please trust him on this?

Unexpectedly, he just loses ground with Seward, but he’s got Van Helsing’s interest, and Van Helsing’s the type who tries to make a practice of giving the benefit of the doubt.

“He said to Renfield in a tone which did not surprise me at the time, but only when I thought of it afterwards—for it was as of one addressing an equal:—“

Which Jack found weird when reflecting on it later. Because why would Jack even consider Renfield being equal? But anyway, Van Helsing takes the initiative and overrides Jack’s authority by saying, ‘If you can state clearly why you want to go and convince me, he’ll let you and take responsibility.’ Which is kind of a weird gamble, if you ask me. Like, yeah, Seward would probably do it, because it’s Van Helsing, but it still seems odd to me. Van Helsing says later that he knows a lot less of “madmen” than Seward does (should we tell him?), so it’s a risk. But he was much closer to believing Renfield than Seward was. Whatever the case, Renfield couldn’t tell them anything. Van Helsing tried to persuade him to change his mind, because then he’d make so much more progress, rather than if he just kept secrets, right? But he wasn’t picking up that it wasn’t that Renfield didn’t want to say something, or was afraid to.

He literally couldn’t tell them.

“Dr. Van Helsing, I have nothing to say. Your argument is complete, and if I were free to speak I should not hesitate a moment; but I am not my own master in the matter. I can only ask you to trust me. If I am refused, the responsibility does not rest with me.”

The helpless way he says ‘I have nothing to tell you.’ And he’s DROPPING HINTS. He hears and understands Van Helsing’s arguments and if he WERE FREE TO SPEAK … but he is not his own MASTER…. Come onnn, Jack, you’ve heard that word before, right? I think somehow Renfield knows the guys are heading next door, so come on, Jack, put two and two together. Where else has Renfield used that word? And again, I love the added emphasis Felix Trench put on the word “master”. Like, come on, man, take a hint. Yes, Renfield’s addressing Van Helsing, but Seward’s hearing this. Seward’s the one here who knows his habits, his patterns.

Right?

…

No go.

“Come, my friends, we have work to do. Good-night.”

Renfield’s only chance is heading out the door. Reason and trust have both failed. Last ditch effort: pure desperation. Pleading, begging, on his knees, crying. Saying he’ll go under ANY circumstance Seward picks out, even if it comes to torture. Anything. Anything.

And Trench’s performance … oh god, the tears coming, the breathlessness, the way words warp when you talk while crying….

“Can’t you hear me, man? Can’t you understand? Will you never learn? Don’t you know that I am sane and earnest now; that I am no lunatic in a mad fit, but a sane man fighting for his soul? Oh, hear me! hear me! Let me go! let me go! let me go!”

GOD. He’s just so desperate to get ANYTHING from Seward. Is there anything in that man he can reach?

Still no. The way Jonathan Sims said Seward’s next lines—“Come, no more of this; we have quite enough already. Get to your bed and try to behave more discreetly.”—were PERFECT. Sternly chiding a lesser person who’s misbehaving, in tone, but with cold unfeeling words. Absolutely no warmth. No connection.

“He suddenly stopped and looked at me intently for several moments.”

The last check. Is there anything there? Anything in there at all he can reach or connect with?

“Then, without a word, he rose and moving over, sat down on the side of the bed.”

Just … the way he gives up. He’s out of options. Absolutely nothing will get through to the guy he needs to understand him. Or his friends, even the “open-minded” one. They all think he’s crazy and apart from them. He just needed one of them—preferably Seward, but any of them would do—to stand in his corner, and just relocate him somewhere. They can pick any conditions they want, just so long as he leaves now.

But Seward has never understood him. He made it a hobby to “try to understand him” and “know how he works”. And now when he actually needs to, he’s completely off-base. I won’t go so far as to say that if it weren’t for Seward, the attacks on Mina wouldn’t have happened, because it ultimately comes down to Dracula being the attacker. Still, it’s frustrating.

The final thing Renfield says to Seward as the doctor heads out the door—“You will, I trust, Dr. Seward, do me the justice to bear in mind, later on, that I did what I could to convince you to-night.”—was described as said “in a quiet, well-bred voice,” and it certainly was that in Re: Dracula, but it also came across as drained and defeated and … done. Just … ‘I tried.’

And he really did try.

He knows he has a weakness and is susceptible. There’s no telling when his mental fortitude might weaken next. But if/when it does, it wouldn’t be just him that suffers consequences.

….. anyways, that’s my gush.

#Renfield #Jack Seward #Van helsing #Dracula #Dracula daily #re: Dracula

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