#and expressed his own self doubts about whether he should could and would even be allowed to become a better person

[yomeiu]

I cannot position myself with graceful nature, to take upon the role of a righteous person, and not have it be the deceptions of a farcical liar.

Sincerity lacks my actions, and the world has a way of knowing.

His voided gaze reaffirms on own his mirror image, at last. Bestowing upon himself a self-critical examination. Two brown irises in return, glower back blankly. The delicate skin just underneath is sunken in. Discolored into a sickly grey, this detail allocates a incurable tiredness to the man.

#dazai 1 week after defecting the mafia #ok i dont usually put written musings but i just wanted to try and capture that he may have struggled adapting to a life in the light #and expressed his own self doubts about whether he should could and would even be allowed to become a better person #ya anyway #eyes #dazai #dazai osamu #bsd #bungo stray dogs #greyscale

[reiding-writing]

could i please request spencer reid comforting reader whos been picking at her lips? Like idk maybe he brings around chapstick for her smth. Tysm!

dermatillomania [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Even unintentionally. So a lot little bit of research later he’s ready to confront you about it.

WARNINGS: dermatillomania (impulsive picking at the skin), mentions of very minor self induced harm, sharing germs??? spencer would be deterred by that i’m sure, well maybe not in this case

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pretty much straight fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: this marks the my final fic of 2023, currently uploading at 10 past 11 pm so like less than an hour until 2024 (yay??)

i love writing for reid because it allows me to satisfy that nerdy part of my brain that endlessly thirsts for knowledge

Everyone had subconscious habits.

Yours just happened to be more physically harming than some.

You found comfort in the monotonous repetition of peeling away the layers of skin covering your lips, whether it be with your fingernails or your teeth.

It would often leave your skin red and raw, sometimes to the point where they cracked or bled.

It wasn’t usually too bad, but during times where you were over-stressed and under pressure, the small habit of yours became more of a staple of your personality.

You sigh softly as you sit at your desk, head resting in your hands as your eyes pour over the file in front of you.

Paperwork wasn’t exactly stressful when you compare it to the rest of your job, but after the week you’d just returned from it was clear that you needed a break.

Spencer glances up at you from his own desk opposite you, a small frown present on his face.

“Stop that,” His tone is soft and unchastising.

"Hm?" Your eyes flicker upwards towards his, your eyebrows knitted into a small line of clear confusion.

“Your lips. You’re going to scar yourself if you keep pulling at them like that.” Spencer’s words come out even softer than before, a small look of worry in his eyes.

"Oh-"

You pull you hands down from your face, the thumb and forefinger of your left hand that had been tugging at the cracked skin of your lower lip now tucked securely in your right as you clasp them together in your lap in fumbled embarrassment. "Sorry.."

Spencer sighs softly, and takes a brief moment to observe you. The corners of his mouth twitch downwards into a slight frown.“Don’t apologize. I just… I’d hate for you to have permanent scarring.”

You hum softly in response to his caring nature, not meeting his eyes anymore out of the small amount of shame that trickles into the back of your mind, and your tongue runs smoothly over the raw skin on your lip in an attempt at soothing the sting. "Yeah.. thanks,"

Spencer looks away for a few seconds, thinking about your actions. After a beat, he leans over his desk slightly to grab a tube of chapstick from his desk drawer and holds it out to you over the small metal hatched wall of separation between your two desks.

It’s dark blue with no writing or labelling of any kind on it and has very clearly been previously opened.

“Take care of your lips, okay? They’re very important for human expression, phonation, and sensation.”

And to be able to kiss people with.

You hesitate to take the tube from him at first, not because he’d used it, but because it was his, and you knew how much he hated sharing his personal belongings for fear of germ contamination.

“Are you- sure you want to give me this? I can go and get one after work-“ You take the tube from his hand carefully, as though it might explode if you grip it too tightly.

Spencer is slightly relieved to see you take the chapstick, and smiles brightly at you before shaking his head. “It’s fine. You clearly need some form of relief, and I doubt you want to be waiting another six hours.”

He pauses, before adding, “I’d like you to keep it. It’s pure white petroleum, it should solve any soreness or dryness in no time,”

"Thank you.." You give Spencer a grateful smile as you remove the cap and twist the bottom of the tube to extend the chapstick upwards.

You choose not to acknowledge the small dip in the balm from where Spencer had used it on his own lips in the past, fearing the inevitable flush of your cheeks if you thought about the way you were indirectly touching your lips to his for too long.

"I’m- not sure why i can’t just stop, but.. yeah- thanks.." Your half-assed explanation is more of a way for you to distract yourself from your impending emotional implosion rather than a genuine want to explain yourself.

Spencer watches you apply the chapstick, nodding once as he does. “I have some advice on how to stop, if you’d like to hear it.”

You re-cap the tube of chapstick and place it next to the pencil holder on your desk for easy later access, exhaling softly through your nose as your mouth bends into a soft smile. "Alright, have at me,"

“First things first, you should try and figure out what’s causing you to want to peel at your skin.” Spencer dives into full explanation mode once you give him the chair. “Everything has a trigger, and figuring out what yours is is the first step to stopping it,”

You give a understanding nod to Spencer’s suggestion, your mind beginning to scrub your brain for and reasons why you might have the insatiable urge to pull the skin off your lips like you would the meat from a turkey.

“You should also redirect the behaviour. When feeling the urge or the subconscious action towards picking at your skin you should instead reapply a layer of chapstick to your lips instead,” Spencer gestures towards the tube on your desk, just barely visible from his point of view past your pencil holder.

“People with dermatillomania often times don’t realise that they’re engaging in the behaviour, so having somebody who is aware of the situation to redirect your attention is also a good idea.”

He’s obviously referring to himself in this moment, indirectly telling you that he’s willing to be stuck to you like a piece of gum under a shoe until you fully manage to break your habit.

"dermatillomania?" You blink your eyes blankly at him at the unnecessarily complicated term you’d never heard of that Spencer had casually thrown into his sentence.

“It’s the term for excessive skin-picking that causes damage or scarring. That’s what you were doing to your lips just now.” Spencer nods nonchalantly at you like it was common knowledge.

“Oh-“

You can’t say you’re surprised that there’s a term for what you’re experiencing.

You also can’t say that you’re surprised that Spencer knows what it’s called.

Spencer feels the need to explain himself upon your confusion and surprise at the revelation that what you were doing had a proper medical diagnosis.

“I’ve observed you for a while now, and noticed you often picking at your lips.. So I did some research and came across dermatillomania.” There is a tiny bit of embarrassment in his tone.

"You- looked it up for me?"

Spencer Reid had gone out of his way to research something that gave him no personal benefit solely for your wellbeing.

You swear you could melt.

You probably look like you do, physically feeling the pink rise to your cheeks as they heat up in flustered gratitude.

Spencer’s cheeks mirror your own in their soft pink hue, slightly embarrassed to have outed himself to going out of his way to research something on your behalf.

“I did, yes.” He pauses. “I just… well, I didn’t want you to unintentionally do any damage to yourself.”

You let out a soft exhale that could almost constitute as a laugh, pressing your lips together to prevent a smile from breaking out on your face. “Thank you Spencer.. That’s really sweet,”

Spencer nods, diverting his eyes from yours and leaning back in his desk chair to try and look as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve researched countless topics to help the team, this was just one of them.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. But he wasn’t going to tell you that instead of the usual half an hour he would spend learning about something for one of his team mates he’d instead read every single publicly available medical journal on dermatillomania he could possibly find.

He turns his face back down to his work as you do the same, pushing his desk drawer closed now that nothing inside it was any longer needed.

His eyes fixed on the blue tube that rolled to his the front of the drawer as he pushed it closed.

It was identical to the one he had given you in every way.

Except for the fact that the one in his drawer was still brand new.

But you didn’t need to know that.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

[queenshelby]

Daddy Issues (Part Two)

Pairing: Dominant!Cillian Murphy & Shy!Reader (& Jamie Dornan)

Warning: Smut, BDSM, Daddy Kink, 4-Somes, 3-Somes, Sugar Baby Arrangements

Summary: Through your best friend, you meet actor Cillian Murphy and come to some kind of arrangement involving intimacy in exchange for being spoiled financially.

Written with: my beautiful wife @darkshelbyfiction

Several days later...

Several days later and Emma had organised dinner at a famous Japanese restaurant with both Jamie and Cillian Murphy attending and you were unsure what to wear as, again, your sense of self-consciousness and lack of self-esteem began gnawing away at you. Should you dress provocatively to catch his eye or opt for something demure to blend in with the crowd?  Your indecision mirrored your uncertainty regarding the evening ahead.

Luckily for you, Emma had brought some clothes with her, knowing that you did not own anything other than a few pairs of jeans and shirts.

"How about this one?" she asked, pulling out a velvety red dress that Jamie had bought for her recently. 

"It's, uhm, red?" you stammered, your cheeks turning crimson due to the daring choice of attire.

"Okay, let's go with something more boring," Emma teased before pulling out a black skirt and a simple, but pretty, white silk shirt instead. You hesitated briefly, worrying whether your ordinary appearance might be too boring after all for a man who you knew could have every woman he wanted.

"It will look good, but don't wear a bra with it," Emma suggested, smirking playfully. "Jamie loves seeing my nipples through the fabric and no doubt Cillian will feel the same about yours."  With resignation, you followed her advice.

"What even makes you think that he would like me? He was married to this actress, Annabelle Wallis, for a few years and before that, he was married to this designer named Grace. They both are stunning and I am merely average," you thought out loud sadly. Surely, he wouldn't want an ordinary girl like me? Your insecurities started eating you alive, causing your palms to sweat profusely underneath your delicate hands.

"You are gorgeous and if you were just slightly gay, then we wouldn't just be friends babe", Emma consoled. "We all face our insecurities differently but trust me, he won't reject you once he sees you". Her voice was soft and tender, kindling your faith in yourself. She guided you through various ways to enhance your body language, facial expressions, vocal inflections. Every piece of advice was designed to bring forth your inner charm. You watched her carefully, taking notes mentally.

When she finished teaching you, she smiled encouragingly and whispered, "Remember, embrace your flaws. Trust me, you'd surprise yourself," adding, "And do try to relax tonight."

You nodded appreciatively, attempting to breathe deeply and calm your racing pulse. Emphasizing her point further, Emma added, "Trust me, once you start getting comfortable, it'll be easier to let loose and unwind."

Your brow furrowed in confusion, wondering how exactly one goes about becoming 'comfortable'. Nonetheless, you took Emma's words to heart, hoping to channel her strength in times of discomfort.

An hour later...

As you entered the luxurious London eatery, filled with the hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and attentive staff whisking around effortlessly in their pristine uniforms, you couldn't help feeling intimidated by the sophistication surrounding you. 

Your best friend Emma was right by your side as you were shown to a well-appointed but secluded table, which is where Jamie and Cillian were already waiting for you. 

As soon as you arrived, Jamie whispered something into Cillian's ear causing him to glance into your direction, his piercing blue eyes fixing upon yours briefly before looking away again. It seemed there might be some underlying chemistry here after all - if only momentarily.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, you introduced yourself to Cillian warmly.

"I am Y/N," you started, "it's nice to meet you." Your voice came out more breathless than usual due to nerves, though it didn't seem to affect your confidence too drastically.

In response, Cillian offered a broad smile. "Likewise, Y/N", he said softly. His Irish accent added an extra layer of charm that made him even more appealing, albeit slightly disconcerting.

"So, you are Emma's friend? And she tells me that you study law together?" Cillian said politely, breaking the awkward initial silence while sipping from his wine glass. His demeanor appeared relaxed yet focused, showing a genuine interest in what you had to say.

"Yes, we've known each other since we were kids actually!" You advised casually while waiting for the waitress to pour you a glass of wine as well. The mention of childhood memories caused a subtle change in the atmosphere. 

"Y/N is an honor student, top of her class," bragged Emma proudly before Jamie pulled a joke. "And Cillian here dropped out of law school after failing two of his exams," he said teasingly.  All three shared a laugh over this small bit of banter, easing the initial nervousness in the air.

"What made you go to law school?" you eventually ought to enquire, seeing that everyone was now at ease and at least somewhat comfortable with each other.

"My parents," Cillian chuckled before telling you some more about his upbringing, and you did the same. 

With that, conversations moved from topic to topic for two hours while you all enjoyed some Japanese food. The topics discussed were ranging from film projects they worked on, dating stories, to politics. But underneath it all lingered an unspoken tension.

As time went on, Cillian's attention shifted toward you, glances growing longer and more frequent. Emma noticed this too, shooting looks back at you with mischievous intent while you became rather quiet and nervous, which was something Cillian picked up immediately.

"So, tell me Y/N," he interrupted, attempting to start another conversation. "What do you want to achieve in life? What are your ambitions?" There was an undertone of curiosity in his question as it became clear to you that him and Jamie had been talking about you. 

Feeling somewhat uneasy about this revelation, you answered confidently, telling him about your aspirations to become a successful lawyer someday, contributing positively to society through justice reform and empowerment.

Emma chimed in excitedly, adding how determined you are when pursuing your goals. "She doesn't give up easily – I know because sometimes we compete against each other for better grades. I don't usually stand a chance though because she is a nerd!".

Cillian chuckled appreciatively. "Well, then I have no doubt that you can reach those dreams one day," he remarked thoughtfully and with a warm smile just as the waitress came to take your order for dessert. 

While you waited for your desserts to arrive, Jamie suggested that you could all enjoy some drinks at his apartment afterwards instead of going out to a bar and, both, Cillian and Emma agreed instantly, eager to spend more quality time with each other.

You, too, reluctantly agreed, knowing that spending more time with them privately would potentially increase your chances of getting to know Cillian a bit better while, at the same time, you were a little nervous about what else the night could bring. 

***

Shortly after dinner, you all left the restaurant. Jamie led the way, expertly navigating through crowds. As you walked, you could feel the excitement building within, not just because of the unknown that lay ahead, but also the undeniable magnetic pull that emanated from Cillian. He carried himself with such poise, drawing people in without even trying. 

Once inside Jamiee's luxury apartment, the four of you found yourselves drawn to the living room area. After catching up on general topics like recent films and news and drinking a decent amount of wine, Jamie proposed playing a game called 'truth or dare', which was something you had not played since high school.

"Seriously? Aren't we a bit old for that?" Emma laughed, teasing Jamie who, by this point, had shown some more intimate affection towards Emma. 

"No. In fact, it becomes more fun the older you get," Jamie pointed out with a wink while Emma simply rolled her eyes. 

This was designed to break the ice further and get everyone comfortable enough to share personal information. Taking turns, each person had to answer either a truthful statement or perform a dare and, whilst everyone was familiar to the rules, the idea of playing this game with a group of adults like this made you nervous, knowing very well where this could lead. 

Naturally, Emma volunteered first and selected 'truth' and it was Jamie who asked the question, "What's your most embarrassing memory involving Y/N?" He laughed good-humoredly.

Her face turned red as she hesitated, clearly struggling to think of something, finally saying: "It involves us meeting up late one night, running across campus half naked and high on weed. Neither of us had smoked it before and we ended up sleeping in between the hedges. It was rather embarrassing when Y/N's idiot of an ex-boyfriend found us the next morning and made a scene," Emma told the crowd and everybody laughed heartily, sharing their own similar experiences. This set a casual tone that eased anxieties among the group. 

Turning towards Cillian, he opted for 'dare'.

Being Emma's turn, she challenged him thusly: "Go onto the balcony and strip," she giggled.

"All the way?" he asked, and she gave him a lifeline. "No. It's too early for that. Just down to your briefs. Anything more would be inappropriate," she chuckled, and Cillian obliged readily, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind about his attractiveness.

"You aren't actually going to do this, right?" you asked as he walked towards the balcony and his brows furrowed.

"Why not? No one will see me. We are on the 28th floor!" Cillian laughed and, upon returning, Cillian took a seat near you, displaying raw power and magnetism as he crossed his legs, but put his t-shirt back on, leaving him comfortable in black Calvin-Klein briefs and a black t-shirt. 

Now, it was your turn. Under pressure, you chose 'truth', and Emma decided to ask you a question.

She wanted to know, "Who's your celebrity crush?" and you immediately gasped. Without missing a beat, you blushed and looked at Cillian and murmured his name. 

The others burst into loud guffaws and cheers, Jamie playfully punching Cillian's arm as he congratulated him on his appeal while your cheeks turned red.

"Are you just saying this because I am sitting right next to you?" Cillian laughed and you nervously shook your head.

"No. I mean, I think you are, uhm, really...uhm...," you stammered, and, despite your obvious discomfort, you found yourself unable to look away from Cillian.

Cillian raised his eyebrows in response of your unfinished statement and Emma intervened, saying "she thinks that you are hot, Cillian!"

"That's good to know," Cillian winked in response and his bold moves had captured your full attention now. Your aroused state heightened significantly, and you suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable, yet strangely attracted to his intensity.

At long last, you reached another turn. Swallowing hard, you stood up and announced solemnly, "I choose dare." Everyone's gaze fell on you expectantly as Emma spoke up and dared you to kiss someone of your choosing.

You swallowed harshly, acutely aware of the sudden heat in your cheeks and, since you were afraid to choose anyone else, you chose Emma.

Everybody watched closely as you moved towards her slowly, closing the gap between you two. Feeling the fire igniting deep within, you pressed your lips tenderly against hers, teasingly at first, then passionately, pulling her closer to you. Her hands slid down your sides, touching your waist, and caressing your curves until they rested on your ass. 

"Fuck, that I did not expect," Jamie gasped, seeing that, contrary to Emma, he knew very well that you were usually rather prude while Cillian simply smiled enigmatically.

"Is that okay?" Emma then asked as, eventually, her hands slid under your shirt, cupping your breasts.

"Yes, I think so," you said nervously before Emma slowly pulled off your top. Your nipples grew hard, becoming erect in the cool air conditioning of the apartment.

"It is your turn Cillian. Truth or dare?" Emma then asked huskily as she sat close to you, running her fingers along your neck seductively. Her breath tickling your earlobe.

Your eyes widened, unsure if you should proceed. However, feeling emboldened by the alcohol, you chose to go along with it as Cillian said "dare" with a low and husky voice, unable to look away from your naked chest. 

"Dare, huh?" Emma teased while walking over towards him seductively and reaching for his hand, thereby pulling him off his chair.

"Come over here and touch her, just above her thigh," commanded Emma in a low seductive voice while guiding Cillian over towards you.

Your heart raced as Cillian followed her lead, moving steadily towards where you were sitting.

He then kneeled before you and placed his large, strong hands softly on your inner thighs, causing a surge of desire to course through your veins while Emma positioned herself next to you again.

"Is that alright?" Cillian asked politely, seeking consent, as the atmosphere in the room intensified dramatically, every eye fixed on the unfolding scenario.

"Yes, that feels nice," you whispered softly, allowing his massive hands to slide higher up your leg, beneath your skirt, brushing against your sensitive skin and sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The scent of Cillian's cologne filled your nostrils, reminding you of his presence.

Meanwhile, Jamie observed the situation with interest, sipping his wine slowly. Emma continued to sit beside you, rubbing your shoulders suggestively.

"Just a little higher, Cill..." Emma encouraged Cillian, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

As he carefully pushed aside your skirt, exposing your lace panties, you couldn't help but tremble slightly in anticipation.

"You are really wet already, Y/n," he commented almost matter-of-factly. Despite the alcohol, it was clear that you weren't simply imagining it; your moistness revealed an unspoken attraction toward him. It was intense and you desperately wanted him to touch your core. 

Answering your prayers, Cillian brushed his fingers tentatively over the soaking fabric of your thong, his touch eliciting an involuntary gasp from you as the sensation sent a ripple of electricity throughout your entire frame.

Emma let out a pleased hum at the sight of you squirming underneath his touch. Meanwhile, Jamie was watching intently, his eyes glinting with a mixture of intrigue and amusement before urging Cillian on.

"It's Emma's turn and I know she will choose dare, so tell her what to do Cillian," he chuckled mischievously.

Cillian narrowed his eyes at Jamie, then directed his attention towards Emma, a cocky grin forming on his face.

"I dare you to remove your clothes," he taunted, staring deeply into her eyes.

Emma paused briefly, contemplating whether to accept the challenge or not. But ultimately, her rebellious nature won out as she confidently replied, "Alright" before beginning to strip in front of them all. Starting from her shoes, she removed each piece of clothing methodically, showcasing her voluptuous body and accentuating her feminine curves.

With each garment discarded, the room became increasingly charged with lust and desire, filling everyone with growing anticipation. Once naked, she strutted towards Jamie, giving you and Cillian some space as, still, he drew circles over your panties.

"Well, looks like we don't need any more dares," Jamie then noted, removing his clothes also and, finally, showering Emma with some rough but passionate attention.

Their bodies intertwined with one another effortlessly, drawing gasps from the audience around them. Your face flushed hotly at the sight, as you could feel a growing sense of arousal inside you.

"Do you mind if I kiss you?" Cillian asked as he moved even closer to you, ensuring you wouldn't miss a single bit of his commanding demeanor.

"No...I mean...yes...," you stammered nervously, causing Cillian to cock his eyebrows again. "I mean, yes, please kiss me," you clarified, your words barely a whisper as you allowed him to move closer.

As his warm breath grazed past your mouth, he closed the distance between you both. Your lips met ever so gently, your connection seemingly electrical. Your hearts raced together as his tongue danced with yours, delving deeper and deeper into your mouth. 

"Look how hard you make him," Emma drawled, her tone dripping with seduction as she watched your reactions to Cillian who was now moving his lips from your mouth to your neck and then all the way down to your naked breasts. His erection was evidentially straining against his Calvin Klein briefs but you did not dare to look at his crotch.

Each touch made your breath catch in your throat, the warmth of his tongue tracing shapes across your skin sending shockwaves through your system. You arched your back instinctively, inviting more of his ministrations.

To help you along, Emma and Jamie had moved themselves to a spot behind you and her arms encircled around your torso tightly.

"Spread your legs for him, baby," suggested Emma while pressing herself firmly against your lower back, making sure not to lose contact with you.

Her demand spurred you on, and you obliged without hesitation, spreading your legs wide apart for Cillian who did not hesitate to finally take off your panties completely. Now fully exposed, your most private area lay bared right there in front of him and Emma said "doesn't she have a pretty little pussy?" while looking directly at you. Your face flushed crimson as embarrassment washed over you, but yet, there was something rather arousing about the way she spoke. 

"Yes, her pussy looks absolutely divine!" Cillian remarked as he admired your entrance while probing it gently. It wasn't difficult to see why he found such fascination in your body – your cleft lips parted to form a small opening that invited further investigation.

"Put your finger inside her and see how tight she is," ordered Emma, her own voice having become hoarse due to her earlier activities with Jamie. And without missing a beat, Cillian complied eagerly, gently inserting his index finger into your tight entrance, stroking your walls gingerly. It didn't take much persuasion for you to oblige. 

"She is very tight indeed," he groaned as you looked back at him hungrily and moaned. 

"And look how fucking wet she is too," Cillian observed before withdrawing his finger from your cleft and bringing it up to Emma's mouth, offering it for her to taste. With a hint of playful mischief, she took his offered digit into her mouth, sucking it clean before returning it to its original position between your legs, stimulating you further with her expert technique.  

Jamie joined in, taking hold of your hand and placing it upon his own bulging member, instructing you to stroke him with long, leisurely movements. His manhood twitched in response, causing a sharp flutter within your belly.

"Let me get my tongue between those beautiful lips, sweetheart." Cillian murmured, captivated by your allure. Your whole body thrummed with anticipation as he knelt down again, preparing himself to carry out his request.

"Oh god please," you moaned suddenly as his mouth fastened onto your swollen labia, first tenderly caressing it with gentle bites and licks, then fiercely thrusting his tongue deep into your core. Every time he penetrated you with his tongue, a wave of ecstatic delight swept through your limbs, making you quiver with joy.

At the same time, you stroked Jamie's erect length, reveling in the feeling of his thick, velvety member sliding through your palms. It was an incredible sensory experience you would remember forever.

"Oh god Cillian! This feels so good…" you gasped, unable to contain yourself as a sudden surge of pleasure flooded your entire body. Both men noticed the intensity of your reaction, their eyes burning with the desire they saw reflected in yours and even Emma let out a moan as she watched the scene unfold. 

"Fuck, you taste amazing," praised Cillian appreciatively, savoring the flavors on his tongue after sampling you thoroughly.

As you gazed at Cillian, mesmerized by his dominance, he swiftly stood up and undressed, the sight of which made you let go off Jamie's cock and stare at Cillian's erection instead. His impressive size only added fuel to your desires and Emma smiled wickedly seeing you ogling at Cillian’s package.

"You should taste him. He tastes fantastic!" Emma urged excitedly, prompting you to place your lips around Cillian's rigid length and start sucking greedily.

"Would you like me to?" you asked Cillian nervously, unsure yet enticed by the idea.

"Only if you want to," Cillian said as he gave you a seductive smile.

"I do," you confirmed nervously while, with steady hands, you placed your lips gently over the tip of his erection, allowing just enough air to flow in to create a ticklish sensation. At the same time, Emma began working her magic once more, engaging in an erotic dance with Jamie, teasing him with close encounters and slow caresses. Their passionate interactions intensified, heightening the already charged atmosphere.

"That feels good. Keep going," Cillian urged as you continued sucking him vigorously, taking him as far into your mouth as possible. The sounds of the others lost all meaning as you focused solely on pleasuring Cillian, ignoring the fact that Jamie was taking Emma roughly from behind, right over the back of the couch.

Her moans echoed loudly, signaling her unadulterated enjoyment, despite the precariousness of their positions. The soundtrack playing in the background seemed almost obscene compared to what unfolded before their very eyes.

Cillian's strong hands held your head, guiding you deeper onto his erection gently as you sucked him with increased fervor. With every passing moment, his moans grew louder, betraying his rising excitement. But then, he pulled away abruptly and reached for the packet of condoms which Jamie had conveniently placed on the sofa.

"Do you want me to?" Cillian asked, wanting confirmation before proceeding further. You quickly nodded your assent, desperate to give him whatever he desired.

"Alright, then bend over and face your gorgeous friend," commanded Cillian sternly, demonstrating a level of control few could match. Without delay, you immediately obeyed, turning toward Emma and presenting your round bottom for Cillian to ravage.

As you adjusted your posture accordingly, you caught Emma smirking knowingly at you, evidently proud of your submissiveness while Cillian carefully removed a condom from the pack Jamie provided before rolling it onto his engorged member.

Then, Cillian approached you slowly, letting you savor the impending moment before he entered you.

Positioning himself between your thighs, he rubbed his swollen manhood against your slick folds teasingly, creating a tantalizing friction that left you craving even more. When he felt ready, he applied pressure, angling his hips slightly, allowing his massive length to ease effortlessly into your warm embrace. As his bulk stretched your entrance, you couldn't help but cry out in surprise. Despite the initial discomfort, it served only to excite you even more knowing that you had taken something so large and imposing inside you.

"Fuck you are tight," Cillian exclaimed, his voice filled with raw hunger. His forceful rhythm matched perfectly with your increasing ardor. You threw your head back in a display of utter surrender, your nipples growing harder with each thrust. Meanwhile, Jamie continued to take advantage of Emma's body with reckless abandon.

Emma grunted with satisfaction, mirroring your wild expressions of bliss. Her high pitched whimpers were music to your ears, driving you to push Cillian faster.

"Just last week, Emma had Cillian's cock in her ass. Did you know that?" Jamie groaned, watching you enjoy his friend's hardness with ravenous enthusiasm. "Oh god, you're so fucking hot like this, Em" he then groaned, holding Emma's waist as he drove into her. 

In response, Emma smiled wickedly, her breath coming heavily. "Absolutely, I love being taken and it looks like Y/N enjoys it as well. Just look at her, moaning and squirming while your friend fucks her," Emma commented, her voice dripping with approval. "Oh, God yes. I do. Fuck, please don't stop!" you cried out, driven mad by the pleasure coursing through your veins. Your skin was damp with perspiration, and you could feel the beginnings of an orgasm building in your core.

As your body trembled with the approach of release, Emma reached forward and stroked your face before placing her lips on to yours, causing you to moan into her mouth.

"Fuck, you two are amazing together," Cillian muttered in admiration, looking at you while his pace quickened, pounding into you relentlessly. 

The sensations he created were unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Every nerve ending seemed alive and awake, screaming for more. All of you shared glances of pride and acknowledgement, your eyes meeting briefly before drifting back to focus on the spectacle happening before you. The room itself became hazy with heat, steam from bodies filling the space as everyone indulged in each other's company.

"Do you like this?" Emma whispered softly into your ear, her breath stirring your hair gently.

“Yes. Oh god yes," you replied eagerly, losing track of time completely while Cillian's fingers found your sensitive spots, brushing them tenderly until you begged for more.

"Please, Cillian," you entreated, your voice hoarse from desire. "Keep doing that!" You felt consumed by waves of euphoria crashing one after another, leaving you delirious with pleasure. Each touch of his talented digits sent shockwaves across your body, causing you to lose any sense of reason until, eventually, you could not hold it any longer.

Overwhelmed by the powerful rush of sensations, you climaxed with such intensity that your legs shook, your eyes rolled back in your head, and involuntary gasps escaped your throat.

"Yes, oh god yes," you repeated endlessly, barely aware of what you said anymore. Your whole world narrowed down to the feelings that coursed through your body, nothing else mattering except the pleasure that wracked your frame. And when you finally came down from the edge, you opened your eyes again and heard Emma say "don't waste your cum, Cillian! Pull out of her and let us have a taste!" 

Cillian though hesitated for a brief moment, considering whether to comply with her request. Then, he looked directly into your eyes, making sure you were okay with that and, after receiving a confident nod from you, he pulled out.

"Cum in my mouth and I make sure to share with Em," you said, surprised by your own confidence as, quickly, you dropped to your knees to catch his seed in your mouth. 

Without hesitation, Cillian obliged, directing the head of his cock to your open mouth while stroking himself to climax. 

His cum splattered everywhere as you accepted every drop hungrily, opening wide and using your tongue to clean up any droplets that missed its target. You held his seed in your mouth and, while doing this, you met Emma's expectant gaze.

Leaning towards her, you kissed her lips chastely and allowed Cillian's cum to flow onto her tongue. Smiling triumphantly, she took it eagerly, ensuring there wasn't a single drop left to waste. 

"Fuck that's hot," Jamie mumbled, appreciatively watching from nearby while Cillian simply let out a low groan. This kind of intimate interaction clearly got him excited beyond belief and the sight of you sharing his cum with your friend made him hard all over again.

You, on the other hand, started to feel a bit tired now, still high off your recent orgasm, but also curious as to how your body would react to yet another encounter and, as if he was reading your mind, Cillian offered to take this to the guestroom.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy fanfic #jamie dornan

[otomefiend]

(To no one's surprise) Alfons is giving me the second lead feels in Elbert's main story. He's just so omnipresent and melancholic, and not usually his trollish self.

Just let me love you.

Chapter 11 has this beautiful scene, where Kate is searching for him. (no major spoilers, just wistful Al goodness)

Finally, in a nearby garden, my eyes were caught by the familiar raven black hair, now bathed in pale moonlight.

Kate: "... Alfons."

Sitting cross-legged at the tea table, he appeared to be drinking.

Alfons: "You shouldn't be wandering around so late at night..."

Alfons: "If it were someone else, I'd be tempted to show them a pleasant dream."

Alfons: "You don't seem like the type, oddly enough."

Kate: "...is this something to be happy about?"

Alfons: "To do something so audacious you'd have to be full of sadness and despair."

His words were accompanied by a captivating gaze.

(He's enigmatic as ever...)

Sylvetica flowers (*forget-me-nots TT) swayed at his feet.

Come to think of it, Alfons' family name was the same as the flower's.

Alfons: "Did something happen with El?"

His eyes the colour of the night sky narrowed meaningfully.

I hesitantly approached him and sat down next to him.

Kate: "...lord Elbert wants to possess me."

Alfons: "Ah....I see."

Alfons: "I knew it was only a matter of time, but I never thought it would be tonight."

Alfons: "It becomes even more doubtful whether you'll be able to complete your work as a fairytale writer."

Alfons: "Now I feel troubled."

Kate: "Well, you certainly don't look like it..."

Alfons: "No, no, quite to the contrary, I've always looked out for you, you know?"

His fingers in a black leather glove traced the outline of my chin.

Alfons: "The world is already filled with tragedies,"

Alfons: "It is foolish to try willingly enact one's own."

(All this time Alfons kept telling me not to get involved with Lord Elbert)

Most likely, he knew that this would be nothing more than stepping into misfortune.

He tugged at my chin with a gentle caress, his sweet scent tickling my nose, leaving me conflicted.

Alfons: ".... should I make El lose interest in you?"

~~~more spoilerish part follows~~~

Kate: "........"

Alfons: "If you remain in his sights, the possible consequences are confinement, imprisonment or, worst of all, death."

It was said more bluntly than I would have liked, and sent a shiver down my spine.

But being scared here was not going to solve anything.

Kate: "I'm already aware of it. Right now, I'm more interested in ...... I want to know what Lord Elbert's crime is."

Kate: "That's why ... I was looking for you."

Alfons: "I see... you want to plunge into darkness rather than choose the path that would save your life?"

Kate: "...I ---"

Kate: "Of course I don't want to be locked up or changed into a specimen. But..."

Kate: "More importantly, if that would happen..."

Kate: "Just imagining how deeply Lord Elbert would be hurt by this… how sad it'd make him... is terrifying."

Kate: "That's why ...... I want to know what makes him behave this way."

Alfons: "........"

It was hard to believe that Alfons, who had been with Lord Elbert since childhood, could not be aware of the circumstances.

Kate: "Why does he allow his butler and maids to do such things?"

Kate: "In his position, he should be able to dismiss them, order them to stop, or at least avoid them."

Alfons: "Indeed. After all, he is the master of the house."

Kate: "At the art dealer's party, I was protected by Lord Elbert's express defiance."

Kate: "All he has to do is defend himself in the same way..."

Kate: "The reason he can't do it... is because of his 'sin', isn't it?"

I could feel a light night breeze in the twilight,

A sweet, intoxicating floral scent wafted through the air and tickled my nose.

Alfons: "... even though it's pointless to face reality."

Alfons: "You're serious to a fault... you and El."

Muttering this, he removed his hand from my chin, then got up from his chair and walked away into darkness.

Kate: "Where are you going....?"

Alfons: "Follow me, please."

Kate: "Huh?"

Alfons: "You want to know it, yes? His 'sin'."

~~~

#ikemen villains #ikevil #alfons sylvatica #ikevil alfons

[bonbonsandbeskar]

"I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you."

Okay. I don’t usually make serious posts, but I felt like this was something worth discussing. Now the episode hasn’t even been out a full day, and I’m already coming across a few people fretting that Tech is going to get ‘called out’ by others for being a ‘dick’ over the way he pointedly questioned Omega “what is your issue” and the way he has been at continuous loggerheads with Wrecker.

Now I know there has been a lot of ‘if’ing and ‘r’ing about the confirmation of Tech being autistic, whether it’s a canon thing or whether it’s just up for us to decide and interpret. Well I’m here to say that I think this is possibly the biggest indicator we have had for Tech most certainly having autism. A common condition that people with autism can have as a facet in their characteristics is that of alexithymia: problems with feeling/expressing emotions.

I’m no psychiatrist by any stretch of the imagination and I certainly don’t claim to speak on the behalf of every autistic person (that would actually be impossible seeing as the web of characteristics/conditions is incredibly diverse) but as an autistic person myself, I can tell you the way Tech has been acting in this episode is completely understandable and valid. It hasn’t been pleasant or very helpful for his siblings, but it is understandable nevertheless.

By nature, Tech has always favoured taking a methodical, logic-fuelled approach to situations in order to derive a conclusion/solution. He has rarely found himself caught in a situation where this approach does not yield a sure-fire course of action, where complex emotions are involved (hence why he mentions Crosshair here because this is potentially the only other situation he can liken the emotional turmoil to). It is common for alexithymic people to have outbursts of frustration when they find they cannot adequately register the intense emotions of others or in turn express their own in a way that is understandable to their peers, such as upset, grief and confusion. In lieu of Echo’s sudden leave, the whole Batch, Tech included, are probably feeling all three at this moment in time.

This explains his tendency throughout the episode to lash out and argue with his siblings, notably Wrecker, rather than take the generic, empathetic approach of talking out his emotions with them and going through the motions together (simply because as previously said, he is incapable of this). I can tell you that this must very isolating for Tech in a time more than ever when all he would want is comfort and reassurance also. This doesn’t register with the rest of the Batch because Tech’s own emotional strains are not being generically expressed due to his own separate set of neurological circumstances. Albeit they are not recognising his own internal struggles.

Tech is caring and protective of his siblings, there should be no doubts about this. He can see the impact the Empire has had on the Batch and how it has now effectively caused two of their brothers to leave the fold. Albeit, he is more than foresightful enough to see how small and fragile the Batch has become and the trepidation of this could very well all but be fuelling his frustrations. There is every chance he is experiencing his own sense of loss and abandonment through all of this, while still trying to be rational and level-headed one of the team. I believe that for the first time, we actually see Tech struggling to come to terms that he is officially out of his depth in this area and therefore is out of control in the situation, a concept very alien and disconcerting for him. Throw in a still-cognitively-developing child, a headstrong, very emotional, child-like individual with adhd and a team leader that is very prone to characterological self-blame and emotional withdrawal on the back of this, and I would say Tech has still been managing everything remarkably well, all other variables considered.

I am really glad that they are showing these characteristics to us within this dynamic where the Batch do consider each other family and therefore pull together and get through whatever crap the galaxy throws at them. It is these traits and tendencies that are projected by Tech in this episode that are a very common reason autistic people are scorned, ridiculed and segregated off by their peers irl. Even though we cannot generically express it, we deeply appreciate those that stick by us and try to understand us during periods of emotional uncertainty, disarray and stress.

It touches me to see that despite the Batch not always being able to see eye-to-eye with Tech and vice versa, they will still accept each other for who they are, quirks and all, and love each other. I only wish people could learn from this

#the bad batch season 2 #sw tbb #the bad batch #tbb s2 #this is the longest thing I’ve written since my college essay days 😵 #tbb season 2 episode 9 #the bad batch spoilers #tbb season 2 #the bad batch tech #tbb tech #thank you for coming to this ted talk #autism awareness #| think people also forget that alexithymia can also be developed through PTSD and he is still an ex-soldier on the run let's not forget #tbb

[theluckywizard]

Thirst

Art from World of Thedas Vol. 2

Summary: Commander Cullen Rutherford has had a shit few weeks. Headaches, tremors and memories dog him. His romantic hopes have crumbled. His blood feels empty and thin. With so many cares weighing upon him he's been wondering if he's still fit to serve, if he ever was. He should resign, shouldn't he? But perhaps it's not that complicated. Perhaps he's just one bottle of blue away from feeling right after all.

WC: 6,434

Relationships: Cullen & Samson, Cullen & Meredith, Cullen & Blackwall, Cullen & Rylen, Cullen & Rose Trevelyan Companion fic to Chapter 68 of my long fic In the Shattering of Things, though it is self-contained!

Excerpt below the cut: 👇

Standing across from Meredith in the sliver of piercing daylight that reflects off the bay through her narrow window, Cullen feels that same nervous itch behind his ears that’s hounded him lately. She levels a frosty gaze, handing Cullen an unexpected philter. He’d already had his customary dose this morning.

“An extra ration from now on. I need you sharp.”

She needs him. That much he knows. When Meredith’s darkest impulses reign and entire swathes of the ranks bristle at her intensifying rhetoric, the templars need to know there is still justice and temperance within the leadership. But Cullen could still reason with her and there is solace in that for those who fear her.

Cullen rolls the vial in his hand, its power a soft, cerulean incandescence. Doubling his lyrium intake is an odd move. The supply has been tight enough as it is. He wonders if he’d crossed her somehow, or whether she finds his performance substandard. The extra lyrium would calm his doubts and trivialize rest. It would make him feel bigger inside his skin. And oh how it would sing, sing like he could run on that melody forever.

He fails to hide his expression, his lips pressing into a thin doubtful line.

“You will do this for the Order,” she says evenly. Doubtlessly.

“Of course, Knight Commander,” he answers, stiff in his compliance.

Meredith eyes him expectantly. Cullen uncorks the extra ration and drinks it down. It quenches something he didn’t even know was there.

“Good,” she says. “Sister Batilde will administer the new dose each morning with the others.”

Cullen has been preparing his own philters for years from a preportioned jar of powdered lyrium that lasted a week at a stretch. He grasps blindly, wondering how he’d earned such mistrust. Earlier in the week she’d reassigned two tranquil smiths, Maddox and Pier, to an unspecified project. She’d casually shut him down when he inquired about their return to regular duties. His curiosity simmered atop a deepening pot of anxiety. And then the lyrium quieted it as it settled in his blood.

“Thank you, Knight Commander.”

Read the rest here

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @about2dance | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie | @delicatefade | @leggywillow

#cullen rutherford #dragon age inquisition #dragon age 2 #cullen & samson #cullen & meredith #angst & whump #the gallows #haunted by mistakes #in the shattering of things #cullen x trevelyan #cullen's terrible horrible no good very bad day

[giffenprep]

An Invitation

“Oh, yes, young man. Your imagination is right on point. I absolutely am a strict disciplinarian. I am surprised that my nephew Andrew has not shared any of his bare bottom experiences across my knees. Go ahead and talk to him about it. From there you can make your decision as to whether you would like to visit, misbehave and then have your own tales to share with the other young boys around here. Interested?”

(My apologies to someone - I've lost track of the author of this initial passage)

=================================================================

===

Why on earth, I should have asked myself, would I be ‘interested’?  But for some reason I was more than interested, I was fascinated, and then obsessed.  I didn’t really want to ask Andy about it but I did.  When I mentioned his aunt, he only said, “That bitch?  Believe me, I wish she’d never been born.”  I pressed a little but he’d only add, “She’s the meanest lady I’ve ever known, probably who’s ever lived.  And I have to be related to her!”

But visit I did.  Not that I wanted to share tales any more than Andy did.  I was deeply ashamed of my interest but I couldn’t seem to help myself.

===

“I don’t really want to misbehave,” I told ‘Aunt’ Edwina.  “I don’t know, it seems…”

“Contrived?” she asked when I couldn’t find the word.

“I was going to say ‘silly’, but yes, that’s even better.”

“Perhaps you’ve already misbehaved,” she suggested.  “Is that why you’re here?”

My knees went weak.  I’d ‘misbehaved’ plenty over the years.  I wouldn’t survive being disciplined for all of it!

“Let’s start with rudeness,” this stern woman decided.  “Have you been rude to someone?  Your mother, perhaps?”

I felt like crying.  Yes, I’d been rude to her plenty of times.  “Yes, ma’am,” I mumbled.

“I don’t abide rudeness.  You have manners, clearly, and you should use them.  With your mother in particular.”  When I didn’t respond (I was too afraid to) she continued, “Has she punished you appropriately for it?”

“Sometimes she speaks to me about it,” I admitted.  “Usually she just lets it slide.”

“That doesn’t sound effective,” I was told, “Which is most likely why you’ve done it repeatedly.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m sure you’re right.”

“Let’s deal with that, then.  I suspect that will be enough progress for one day,” she intoned ominously.

With that she confiscated my trousers and led me to a desk.  While I bent over it, terrified, she produced a hairbrush.

“We’ll start with where you sit.  That will be the easiest to remember,” she explained.  The next time you think of being rude to your mother, you can think of this and realize how little you want to have to tell me of your backsliding.”

Then she began a ferocious attack on my bare thighs, scalding them with her hairbrush.  My tears of fear and self-pity became sobs of pain. 

“Please!  Please!  I’ll be good!” I promised desperately.

“I don’t doubt you will be,” she agreed calmly.  But the assault went on.  The pain was insane, beyond belief!  Sobs exploded from me with every new stroke.

At last it was over and she stopped, but only for a moment.  “Now you’re ready for a proper spanking,” she announced before resuming the battering, on my ass this time.  Again I pleaded, again I promised, again she expressed confidence in my future behavior, all the while continuing those terrible smacks.  I couldn’t even form words, only sounds that begged for mercy.

After she stopped (at long, long last!) she kept her hand on my back, holding me in place as I shook and worried that there was more to come.  I lay there like that for a while, shaking and sobbing.  Finally, she said I could stand and move to the corner to compose myself.  She positioned me with my hands on my head.  I was waving my blistered backside around but she took no heed.

When I calmed down sufficiently, she offered me a cup of tea.  I had to kneel to drink it, since she was sitting (which I couldn’t) and didn’t want me ‘looming over her’.  “I trust you’ll be more careful about your rudeness?” she asked and I assured her that I would be.

As I prepared to leave, she asked, “Is this a good time for you?”  I didn’t have to pretend not to know what she meant.  “You will be back here in two weeks, is that understood?  I take it that 10 AM is a convenient time?”

“Yes, Ms. Edwina,” I said without even thinking.  Or maybe I was too scared to.

“Good.  I expect that you have other behaviors that need discouraging.  Misbehaviors, that is.”

My tears began to leak a bit and I felt the need to pee, though I’d done so when I’d arrived.

“Am I right?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, knowing the consequences.

“I shall see you then, then,” she said, leading me to the door.  Once there, she turned me to her.  “You’re a brave boy, and we shall have you acting properly.”  With that she pulled my face down and kissed my forehead.

=================================================================

I wish I could say that that was my worst-ever spanking from her or at least typical but several of my visits (yes, I kept going back) started out that way and then, after a long period of ‘thinking time’ facing the corner, I’d be put back in position for a long leathering to ‘spank the lesson home’.  Of course by then my underpants would routinely come down, costing me whatever scant protection they had first offered.  Still, I had learned to sit on the train for the ride home without actually crying.

One trip my confession was having looked too long at a woman who was showing more cleavage and thigh than she intended.  Before meeting Ms. Edwina I would have considered myself lucky but now I knew that I’d have to pay for not looking away.

“Is it fair to say that you stared?” my disciplinarian asked, and all I could do is nod.  “And what is it that you stared at?”

“Her, um, leg, I could see.  She was squatting down and her dress, well, I could see her, her thigh,” I confessed.  “And her,” I paused, searching for a genteel word, “Her bosom, as she bent forward, her brassiere and…”

“Her cleavage?” I was asked.

“Yes, Ms. Edwina, it was exposed.”

“And you didn’t look away.  Even though you knew you should.”

“No, ma’am, I, um, didn’t.  I’m very sorry about the whole thing.”

“I should think you would be.  Tell me, was this what I would call a ‘trashy’ dress, that she was wearing, that showed so much of her?”

I blushed deeply.  “No, ma’am.  It was a church dress, I guess you’d call it.”

“And,” I said.

“Oh?  There’s more?” Ms. Edwina growled, causing my butt to tighten.

“It was all because she was fiddling with her baby, she had one of baby carriers, she’d set it on the floor…”

Ms. Edwina looked at me, her temper rising.  She said nothing.

“Pants down,” she said at last, breaking the merciless silence.  She left the room only to return with a cane, something she’d only threatened me with before.

“Let’s just be sure that you’re as sorry as you say,” she suggested.

“You are unfamiliar with the cane, are you not?” she asked with exaggerated formality.  “I, on the other hand, am particularly familiar with it and you will feel that you are, as well, before I’ve finished.  Long before I’ve finished, in fact!”  She seemed to be looking forward with great excitement and enthusiasm to demonstrating her expertise and defending this anonymous woman’s honor.

I could not have taken my position with any more trepidation than I was feeling and she proceeded to justify my every fear.

“When I think of that poor woman, a new mother, just wanting to look nice one morning a week, stopping for a cup of tea,” she intoned (this had happened in a tea shop), “Only to find herself ogled, stared at, quite rudely, as she struggled…”

=================================================================

2 captions just above from @spanked2realtears

last photo from @carabonnysblog

#what was I thinking #harsh #asking for it #post

[holyvirgilscriptures]

It's so funny when some fans can literally point out how Will loves and appreciates Mike for who he is unconditionally as a form of byler endgame proof (and anti mlvn proof). Yet when it comes to their own fanon interpretations of his character, suddenly Will is perpetually annoyed with Mike for no reason.

Fanon Mike is chacterized as an annoying loser who, by the grace of god, was allowed to have friends who tolerate him, but not without letting him know he's annoying. And Will? He's the Chief Ambassador of the Neutralizing Mike Comittee (The NMC™) who forever has to remind Mike that had he not said yes to being his friend on the goddam swingset almost 10 years ago, he would be nothing but a frogfaced nerd who has an enternal home in Loserdom.

It's not like Mike being his best friend means anything to him. It's not like Will wasn't brought to literal tears after essentially telling Mike how he's made personal, irreplaceable impact on his life, and how he would always have a place in his heart (as well as his other friends and family). Mind you, Will said all of that immediately after Mike expressed his own self-doubt and inferiority.

Some fans took Mike's nightmare fuel (personal insecurities) and decided it would make great wholesome byler content. Feels bad man... I wish they would let Will love Mike unconditionally like he does in canon.

(P.S. I went on a huge rant about Will's response to the rink o mania/rain scenes , but I didn't know how to get my point across in relation to this without going off the deep end lmfao)

can you marry me, please? 💍 this is a very good articulation of my own thoughts

my answer is very very long, so i'll put it under the cut:

i firmly believe a lot of fanon mike's characteristics are a reflection of the fandom's own anger towards him, starting from s3 onwards. for example — the concept of mike being overly clingy or having nerdy geeking out moments, and then will being annoyed by it? like i'm so sorry, people are not going to like what i say, but the opposite of that dynamic is what is literally canon in the show. in s3 will is attached to his childhood (and by extension his friends + mike) and tries to get all of them to play d&d, and then lucas and mike both scorn him. mike basically tells will to grow up.

now, am i saying that this is the dynamic i want to see portrayed in fics? no, of course not. in fact, the show itself makes it very clear that mike was in the wrong for treating will like that. and the audience was mad at mike. which is why i believe a lot of bylers write a role reversal of this, as some sort of comeuppance mike gets for s3 where he wasn't a good friend to will.

and as for mike being treated like he's the loserest loser in loserland, again, i think it just has a lot to do with people's anger towards him in s3 and s4, whether it's conscious or subconscious. when vol 2 came out everyone and their moms wanted to set fire to mike. people made soooo many jokes about will getting with another guy. all of this anger is also why people constantly peddle the "will is too good for mike" rhetoric as well.

the actors' appearances also come into play here. noah is broader and more toned than finn. that's also why buff byers became a thing, though noah's not really buff, he's just fit. buff byers also came from the idea that mike should be fucking groveling at will's feet, as repented for the way he treated will in s3-s4. like, "hey look! will is super strong and he's a chick/guy magnet and he could literally have any boy in the world!" and so they try to make this sort of disparity between both boys and put will on a pedestal compared to mike so that mike can do nothing but be his personal fanboy who should be grateful will even dared to look upon him.

i think that the van scene also added to people's anger towards mike. ranging from mike not noticing will crying (allegedly), to mike not realizing/accepting will's veiled love confession (allegedly). which is again, why we get more fan content of will not reciprocating mike's romantic affection. or people declaring that mike doesn't deserve will's love. it's just another role reversal.

which is so funny because like you said, will's love is unconditional. he openly admits to feeling lost without mike, but people like to pretend will was a happy little clown in california where everyone wanted a piece of him. and he admits that being mean or pushing mike away is NOT WHO HE IS NORMALLY. like seriously this is literally in the fucking show!!!

my answer is just mostly about byler but again just to note that all of mike's friends love him. they fight him or tease him but that's because they care. they find him annoying in the same way he would also find them annoying. because friends will annoy each other. but they still look up to him. in fact, all of them have had moments where one of their issues was literally the fact that they wanted mike's attention in one way or another.

mike IS a loser. but he's a loser in the sense that all of the party are losers. not in the way fanon portrays, where the party are somehow infinitely cooler than mike, who is written as a bottom of the barrel leech. (and also just to add here — people love over-exaggerating the idea of mike being "ugly" in canon, just so they can pair it with will "could attract literal gods" byers.)

and also, last one — mike is the heart of the party. there's no other way around it. he is their leader, and "without heart, we'd all fall apart" is literally THE most applicable thing to mike. when mike didn't act true to himself, not like the leader he normally is, that's when everything began falling apart. which is why i'm so hyped for s5, where we hopefully get to see mike come back to himself and truly lead the party as their paladin.

anyway marry me anon 💍💍💍

#virgil.ask #anonymous #fandom bs

[thesherrinfordfacility]

do you think Metatron was bullshitting Azi or feeding him flattery when he said “you’re a leader, you don’t just tell people what they want to hear”? I feel like that’s going to be a Significant Moment when Meta is unmasked as the Big Bad in S3 and uses it against Aziraphale, scoffing and saying he just told Aziraphale what he wanted to hear, that he’s so pathetic and lonely that he would bend over backwards and abandon Earth just because he got a few crumbs of praise from a higher power. I feel like it’s really going to fuck Aziraphale up too, and Crowley will have to rebuild his self-confidence.

hello my lovely!!!💕

oh i definitely think whether it was flattery or bullshit, or both, they both knew it to be... incorrect. when you take into account that they both know what went down in their last interaction with each other, the whole of metatron's spiel to aziraphale in ep6 feels patently false.

the crux of their conversation in s1, ep4:

put this interaction next to what he says to him in ep6, and almost every line is comparatively a lie:

"You're a leader, you're honest, you don't just tell people what they want to hear- it's why Gabriel came to you in the first place, I imagine..."

the only time that aziraphale, to my mind, truly acts like a leader specifically is at the end of s2. not really even at the airfield in s1; sure, he comes up with a way to make the angels doubt the great plan, but it's not evocative of leadership and moreso an employee springing their superiors with some convoluted (albeit valid) logic. and yes he gets his bamf-face on during the demon raid, but he's still very unsure and dithery, especially when he's pulling himself up by the bootstraps when telling shax to leave - and she then promptly puts him back in his place. and then consider every interaction he's ever had with the archangels; yeah, not quite leadership qualities, to my mind.

but the way he commands the room in the bookshop, when the demons and angels are squabbling and hissing like cats on a hot tin roof, is for me the first sign where aziraphale could actually lead. and the intriguing thing for me is that the metatron wasn't actually there for it; he was outside waiting in line and ordering his coffee from nina, but that's a different conversation.

as for whether metatron will reveal that it was bullshit/flattery in s3... would aziraphale much care? that's a little harder for me to riddle out. because here are some things that i have in my head:

there is a clear line drawn for aziraphale - imo - in s1. before the above conversation with the metatron, aziraphale is still largely loyal to heaven and the archangels, regardless of his own private dislike/apathy towards them individually. he is praised by heaven for his work, and actually - for what it's worth - i feel like gabriel's compliment is somewhat genuine (i could write a Lot about gabriel and aziraphale's dynamic but that's another ask). but anyway; at this point in the story, aziraphale still seems to put stock into the archangels' opinion and appraisal of him:

but afterwards, after the metatron drops the nuke that everything aziraphale believed about what heaven should be is a lie (and that they will not just not intervene in, but are actively encouraging, the apocalypse so they can finally have it out with hell), aziraphale breaks from heaven entirely by the time we enter s2. they want nothing to do with him, and he wants nothing to do with them.

as i said before, aziraphale doesn't display leadership qualities - and i daresay that he's never really wanted it. he expressed to the metatron explicitly that he doesn't want to return to heaven, and at no point has he indicated that he's ambitious, or power-hungry, or essentially that he covets the supreme archangel position for himself. so, with that in mind, would he be really upset if the metatron turned around with "sike! you're an awful leader and i was lying to you all along"?

i mean, possibly. because yes, okay, in ep6 metatron is essentially telling aziraphale - "all these qualities that others have told you are heinous and laughable as an angel? yeah i actually want that exact kind of angel running heaven." and maybe yeah, aziraphale would buy into that; take all of the insecurities he has about himself - and if those qualities make him a good angel or not - and suddenly start seeing them as things that are in fact valuable.

but we've seen aziraphale be self-conscious, or take a knock to his self-esteem, and they have almost always been linked to things he genuinely cares about, and tie him to earth and humanity. he loses confidence in 1941 over his magic act. he feels self-conscious about being soft/his love of food. he is knocked back by the notion from shax that crowley only values him as a source of support. all of these, i think, are tied to aziraphale's idea of angelhood, but again - idk if aziraphale doesn't see through what the metatron is flattering him with in ep6. he certainly doesn't look flattered:

all that to say; i don't think aziraphale would be blown to pieces by being told by the metatron that it was all a lie, all flattery to get him back in the fold. in s1, aziraphale has a very clear view that the metatron and god are not the same; the metatron is just a spokesman, aaaaaand the metatron just played his hand in telling aziraphale that they're plotting the second coming. which aziraphale definitely recognises as a Thing. his last look outside the lift would signify that he knows he's walking into the lion's den, and he's not on board, but has no choice but to follow now and play the game.

so personally, i think for him to suddenly regress to begging off the heavenly table for scraps would be to erase quite a bit of his character journey so far. depending on how you view the final fifteen, aziraphale is nonetheless going back to 'make a difference'... but i'd put money on that 'difference' being worlds away from what the metatron had intended.

if anything - given how he's replaced heaven's place in his life with crowley in s2 - i feel like crowley may instead be the source of aziraphale needing to confront himself about a few things. and not in a 'crowley will be an arsehole and rip aziraphale a new one just because he can' way, but a 'there are a lot of things that the both of them have refused to acknowledge about themselves, as well as each other, that have to be reckoned with before they can even begin to repair the rift'.

personally, i think that has the potential to fuck up aziraphale more than anything the metatron could ever do or say - and vice versa, for crowley - but also be significantly more empowering and completing than crowley being the one to pick up the pieces, if that makes sense?💕

#good omens #ask #aziraphale meta #metatron spec

[rosekisspeach]

TAROT READING//Bummie's view on mingkey relationship

Date: 16/Jan/2024 Marker: Selca, Music Deck of Cards: Trungles' Star Spinner Tarot (Inclusive, Diverse, LGBTQ Theme)

Notes Upfront:

I don't ask my cards questions that I already have answers;

I don't prey on information I should not know;

I respect their personal lives and;

This is for FUN ONLY.

ʕ•̫͡• ʔ stream Minho's Stay For A Night!! -ㅂ-

This time, the song I recommend listening to while reading is Bummie's Ain't Gonna Dance

"But let me break it down for ya honey I ain't gon' dance for your loving"

Now...Ready to glimpse into Bummie's view??

Base Card: 10 of Coins Past: King of Cups R Now: 10 of Cups Future: 6 of Swords Past to Now: The Lovers Reverse Now to Future: 8 of Coins Reverse Result Card: 7 of Wands

Please take time looking at the cards before proceeding to read the readings, thanks. . . . . . Readings:

If ming's cards manifest honesty, bummie gives me a very strong sense of rationality. Despite so many cups here (family ties, romantic love, and self-love), bummie is a very goal-orientated individual who doesn't let the floats of emotion impact his career and personal life. He has become a little control freak, hehe. But it is totally understandable. After losing his grandma, jjong and ming (++ refer to the romantic section for elaboration) , bummie is trying to re-gain control through being a workaholic, so to express his heartbroken sadness in work and art. Good news is, he feels very content about his career, financial status, relationships, and where he and ming at. However, one might argue that he is a bit cruel and possibly, selfish - maintaining the status quo because he is one who has more say in their relationship.

Let's look at the past. The reversed king of cups immediately brings that shy bummie back to my mind. He was delicate, sensitive, on-the-edge in the debut times, but full of dreams and determined to make a career out of himself as a multi-talented idol. He didn't hesitant much at the decision of leaving Daegu to Seoul for his dream, even that meant completely new environment, living alone, and not being able to spend more time with his family. Especially his grandmother, the one raised him, and understood him (as I am typing, I still sense the warmness in bummie's heart whenever he thinks of her. He never stops missing her). And that is rationality v.s. emotions from day 1. Kibum has been really hard on himself since the beginning and loneliness, the feeling of out-of-place & isolation had consumed him. But he could handle those...then he met Choi Minho. A bit dramatic? No. Ming made bummie doubting whether the industry (and fans) would welcome someone like him. Worse. He hurt bummie in ways that reminded bummie his wronged times back in Daegu. A less developed city where you see more discrimination and bully against people who want to be themselves instead of being others. That is why bummie got all work up and self-protective when he is around ming. And bummie is as stubborn as ming, he overcomes the side-eyes like breathing fine air.

He didn't know how to overcome ming tho.

It is getting very hard not to analyze it in romantic ways because the lovers dropped, yes, but also because the lovers card is the only major arcana appeared in the result - meaning it is very IMPORTANT. (ming has both the world and the lovers, emphasizing how much he wants to make things right between them, and romantic love could be a good option) However, I will try to give a platonic reading first.

Bummie has been rational dealing with emotions, yet ming is his exception. The frictions, the fights, and the upsets slipped into his heart & left a void that bummie learnt to distance himself from ming and from getting hurt. It doesn't mean bummie doesn't care about ming. He does, deeply. And seeing ming happy makes bummie so happy that he is willing to sacrifice his own desires. Don't forget how sensitive, loving and caring bummie is. He is just too good at choosing rationality instead of his own wants. Taking the left-on-read messages as an example, bummie needed his own space/time to grieve, so he prioritized healing his own heart before ming's enthusiasm to bond. Even if that means hurting ming, means his heart ached at the realization he is hurting ming, and giving away the chance to be closer with ming. Bummie was resolved on the idea of not allowing anything ANYTHING to hurt his precious precious heart.

And looking at the base card, the king of coins, bummie is pretty satisfied with his decision. He enjoys ming being around (in the distance he sets for them), and he wasn't lying when he compares ming to commedes and garçons in the LG Object Collection show. Ming is loyal and bummie knows he can count on that - he loves ming supporting him (both his career and personal life), accompanying him, and comforting him. Ming is not just a good friend, he is family that stays in bummie's softest part. And well, also occasionally way too often gifts bummie. Gifting luxury gifts really isn't ming's love language but serving is, so when ming realized how much bummie loves getting gifts from him he nods yes. This little agreement is very sweet (remember I said ming is always READY to become a good boy for bummie?). In this way, their friendship will grow and profound like evergreen.

Before continuing on, I want to throw a harmless joke here...we have a "clown" in ming's reading, and a "simp" here again. Poor boy. But bummie is just trying to be careful and protective.

!!skip this part if you only see them as platonic friends/co-workers and resume when you see exclamation mark again!!

Oh, come on! Look at the cards here, I bet your reading is more straightforward than mine. A lovers at the reverse signifies difficult communication, one-sided love, and the awareness of impossible love. In this case, I believe all of them are present. Bummie will never say that word if he knows all he gets is rejection. What is even sadder is he never stops loving ming (flowers continue blooming) while he believes so stubbornly that his feeling is unrequited. That he believes one day in the future, ming will fall in love (and get married) like those happy endings in the fairytales. But not with him. When that happens, bummie will stay in the little castle he build himself, enjoy aglass of wine and the cuddles of commedes & garçons, and gives his sincere good wishes. He will continue focus on his works and avoids to even think about the possibility between ming and him because of what he learnt through the years. Bummie is sensitive, and many times a cry baby.

But he doesn't want to cry anymore.

!!resume here!!

Bummie will continue focusing on work>relationship. However, I can see this attitude sets him back sometimes, because the emptiness in his heart withholds him from some deep connections. He dates/interacts with others, of course, but those love are not enough to fill the hole in his heart. In the end, we have the 6 of swords, carrying sorrow and unsatisfied feelings to the future. Bummie is hurt because of their seemingly-ok-but-not-balanced relationship, he is even more hurt because he now realizes that ming is hurt. Payback...almost, but bummie really does not want a sad face on ming. That is why I eagerly pulled up a result card, since 6 of swords can also mean good fruit after growing up from sad lessons. And I am pleased to see the seven of wands here. This card means the difficulties we face to continue to have success. And I believe they will figure things out, in the best way possible to nurture their relationship and career development.

-over-

Feel free to chat or find me on twitter @rosekisspeach

#tarot reading #tarot #shinee #kpop tarot #minho #kibum #choi minho #kim kibum #shinee kibum #key kibum #stay for a night #minkey #mingkey

[theawkwardterrier]

Bake On: A Jamie/Claire Wednesday100 story

Week 1: Cake

Jamie gets his signature - Mam's snow cake - into the oven before he takes a moment to truly size up the competition.

There's the usual crop of grannies and older gents and young mum types, a smarmy-looking middle-aged man Jamie instantly dislikes, a willowy girl he smiles at because she's trembling with nerves, a hulking, wildly bearded lad with an accent Jamie can't place (Welsh?), and then, down in the front corner, far from his back row...

He watches her for so long that he has to rely on the technical and showstopper to make up for his overdone cake.

Week 2: Biscuits

There were many things that Claire considered before entering the competition: that her self-taught skills wouldn't hold up, that she didn't have the sorts of stories and traditions needed for the signatures, that she wouldn't be able to balance it all with her usual work schedule.

She hadn't thought that she'd need to remind herself to focus each time her ears detected a Scottish accent at the back of the tent, or that, after her Kingston biscuits came first in the technical, she'd think about his grin and the light touch of his foot against hers the entire drive home.

Week 3: Bread

"The best simit I've had was off splintery carts pushed by old men who would have considered you mad for criticizing the sesame seeds' evenness."

Jamie looks up from messaging Jenny to find Claire beside him. He'd been trying to stop reexamining his near elimination today. Now he smiles without thought.

"Well, Sassenach, I'll be back next week. That's what matters."

"I suppose that's true." She smiles back, cheeks rosy and rounded, before adding, "You're taking the train, aren't you? I can drive you to the station."

It's an easy walk. The choice to ride with her is even easier.

Week 4: Pie

"Will London surgeon Claire's use of herbs finally win her the title of star baker?"

Her held breath becomes a laugh. She sets down the knife she had been using to carve her pastry top, looking over to him leaning on her bench.

"It might, especially if freelance translator Jamie doesn't get back and give her some competition."

He flashes a grin. "Canna have that. My case is done cooling besides."

She watches him walk away, then resumes, her hands steadier now. She wonders whether he could have possibly noticed her doubts from the back. No, she decides. A coincidence.

Week 5: Pastry

He doesn't notice how long they've been talking until Claire shivers in the midnight chill. It seemingly doesn't register with her - she simply crosses her arms and continues speaking about her patients - but he wants to tuck her against himself, offering his warmth.

Her expression is vivid, and he hates cutting her off (although he'd have hated interrupting her while discussing their fellow contestants, London versus Edinburgh, or today's lunchtime sandwiches). Still, he checks his watch, yawns, says, "Christ, it's that late? We'd better get in if we want to be awake for the showstopper," and sees her safely sheltered.

Week 6: Chocolate

It's meltingly hot in the tent, and everyone's rushing about. Claire's behind on her own bake, and so nearly doesn't notice the cheesecake sitting out at the edge of one of the vacant benches, matching the description Jamie gave of the one he was planning while they'd baked together over the phone this week. Her eyes narrow, and she looks around.

Frank looks back, then immediately glances away.

She places Jamie's cake back into the refrigerator. There isn't time for revenge now, but they can plan together later.

In the meantime, beating Frank will be sweet in its own way.

Week 7: Puddings

"Didna ken this would be the week where I'd remember them so much," Jamie says that night, knowing that she hears him despite his quiet words.

He supposes he should feel embarrassed, tearing up over a batch of clootie dumplings, but he remembers Mam helping him tie the cloth, remembers Da ruffling his hair and Willie saying with his mouth full, "They're good, Jamie!"

And Claire doesn't make him feel foolish, simply places her hand over his, saying, "I don't think there's a wrong time to remember the people you love," so he doesn't feel alone there in the dark.

Week 8: Tarts

She's smiling with satisfaction for the first bit of the drive, star baker title finally achieved and her place in the semi-final assured. It's only as she's shaking her head for her own foolishness at wanting to call Jamie to celebrate when she's barely left him (and knows that he had work to take care of on the train ride home besides) that she realizes what this means.

They've both shown their skill and she's confident in their chances of making it through next week. But even so, even if they get into the finale together, their weekends are numbered.

Week 9: Patisserie

The tension in Jamie's shoulders has nothing to do with two days fussing with choux pastry, or the pressure of next week's final, and everything to do with the countable hours he has left with Claire.

They stand talking in the car park long after the others have packed up and left, after he's missed his train, and he wonders if she might feel the same. Regardless, more time with her doesn't seem like a chance he can miss.

At the next pause, he breathes and asks, "Might ye—Will ye come have dinner with me, Claire?" and watches her smile.

Week 10: Final

The contestants carry their showstoppers to the waiting crowd of loved ones. In classic British fashion, the finale fete is chill and rainy; the camera catches Claire carefully keeping her hair out of her icing.

"Christ, I'd forgotten what the damp did to that curlywig o' yers."

Claire elbows him from her spot beneath his arm, although she is laughing along. "Hush and watch. We're about to lose in front of the entire country, after all."

"True enough. Still, I think we won more than that cake stand o' Glenna's," he says.

By the way she kisses him, she agrees.

#Wednesday100 #Outlander #Jamie Fraser #Claire Fraser #Jamie/Claire #cheating a little but each part is its own drabble 🤷‍♀️

[myfavouritelunatic]

The Blacksmith

I’m struggling to find the words for the response to this story... writing has been my passion my whole life, and up until recently, I thought I would never write anything like this. Ever. And now that I’m posting my SIXTEENTH CHAPTER... I’m just in a state of complete disbelief. And the fact that you guys are actually enjoying it and sharing it on your blogs... I wish I could tell my past self about this, then maybe she wouldn’t have doubted herself for so long. Thank you does not adequately express the immense gratitude I have felt along this journey so far, but THANK YOU for being here, reading along, and reacting in your own sweet way, whether quietly or loudly, to my writing. I started writing this for me and now it’s for some of you too. 

Sorry for the saccharine ramble, but I am just simply overwhelmed, and so very happy. For the first time in forever.  ❤️❤️❤️

And now... let’s get back to our story, shall we?

Pairing: Halbrand/Sauron x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Graphic violence. 18+

Links to Chapter One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, and Fifteen!

Chapter Sixteen

Sauron. The name reverberated in your skull as its meaning sunk in. You didn't understand, you didn't believe it. How could Halbrand be anything other than what you knew him to be? How could he conceal this identity so cleverly and so well as to fool not only you, but Miriel, Elendil, Elrond, Celebrimbor, and most heartbreakingly, Galadriel? This seemed too great a leap to make, for the darkness within him to be not only his true form, but almost the embodiment, the personification of darkness itself. Dear sweet Halbrand with the hazel eyes, a blacksmith, a king. The Dark Lord. He wasn't leading you to Sauron. He was Sauron.

Then suddenly it all made sense. The dreams. Your nightmares. Your visions of ruling over black lands and skies. Of fire, of torment, of power. They were premonitions. Visions of the future, of what would come to pass. You had guessed that might have been the case after the eruption of the mountain near Tirharad, but now you had confirmation. And he was walking away from you.

"Where are you going?" "We must leave Eregion. Now." he spoke coldly. "Halbrand!" you called out to him, following his fast steps. Halbrand. You didn't even know if you should call him that anymore. It was the name of your love, your soul mate, your kindred spirit. You loved the way it sounded, especially with your voice, and more so when you screamed it from his bed. Sauron. You were in love with Sauron. Your mind was beginning to become lost in confusion over what to think and what to feel. Everything was becoming tangled and mixed up. No wonder your dark side was winning, you were under the thrall of evil.

You caught up to him then, but he did not stop. Making for your chamber first, he commanded you to pack what you might need for the journey ahead. Then you followed him to what would have been his chamber if you had stayed, and he filled up a bag for himself. You noticed him fold up a particular black cloak, and recognised it instantly as the one from your visions. The anxiety rose within you, adrenaline pumping. As the two of you made for the stables, stealing two black steeds, you knew you need not ask where you were headed. For you had already seen it.

The ride back to the land now shrouded in shadow would likely be much longer than six days, considering neither of you were on the verge of death this time. Yet still Sauron rode fast, your horse struggling to keep up. You kept calling out to him every so often, trying to get him to stop, to talk, but he would not have it. You could have ridden away from him at anytime, he was not preventing you from doing so. However the time for abandonment had long since passed. You were in too deep now, his claws within you, eroding your spirit, until nothing remained but your love for him. He was your life now. For better or for worse.

As the first nightfall on your journey approached, Sauron slowed his steed to a halt at the edge of a forest. He was bathed in the last light of the day, the burnt colours in the sky very fitting to be consuming him now. Your horse slowly trotted up to where he was, and you waited. Tying up the reins nearby, he wandered underneath the branches of a tree whose leaves were thick enough to provide shelter from above. "Come, my love." he finally called out to you, and you did as he asked, securing your horse next to his, before slowly moving closer to where he stood.

"Why did we leave so suddenly? What of Galadriel? And your work with Celebrimbor?" You had so many questions, and those three were just the beginning. "Sit with me." he spoke, and attempted to clasp your hand. To your surprise, you flinched and moved yourself out of his reach. Your body wasn't ready for him. You weren't ready for him. Sauron sat down anyway, sitting up straight against the tree trunk, his long legs stretched out before you. Staring at him from above, you waited intently for him to finally speak. "My work with Celebrimbor was completed. I had taught him everything he needed to know to forge the rings." "Taught?" Sauron laughed, amused. "Celebrimbor is a great smith... but I am greater." "And what of Galadriel? What did you do to her!?" Your raised voice accentuating your second question, the fear for her wellbeing coming out. Surely he could not have killed her? You knew his power was great but no... surely not. Sauron closed his eyes, and dropped his head, a look of sorrow upon his face. He sighed. "Galadriel is alive."

  You almost screamed with joy upon hearing this, as you did not wish for her to die, despite whatever urges to the contrary you experienced only hours ago. Your love still had his eyes closed, but he sensed your feelings, as he did not continue until he knew your emotions had subsided, letting you have a moment of bliss, of relief. "She deduced my identity before I could reveal it to her. And despite my best efforts to sway her, keep her by my side... she rejected me. Us. I let her think me the evil I am." In his voice was contained nothing but heartache. You knew then his mournful visage was not because she was still alive. It was because he lost her.

  Remembering your own heartache over Galadriel, it was then you decided to take your place on the ground beside him. "My last meeting with her... also did not go well." "How so?" he inquired. "I rose my voice at her... pushed her against a wall. She had already figured out that you were not heir to the Southlands throne. And I refused to even consider she might be right. I should have known better." Your words snapped yourself out of whatever sympathetic reverie you were having, and you moved yourself away from Sauron, crawling until you were leaning up against a another tree that stood a few metres away.

"You needn't be frightened of me." he spoke calmly. "Frightened isn't exactly what I'm feeling right now." you corrected him, the anger in you rising. "How dare you lie to me! How could you not tell me who you really were? All this time! I gave myself to you, body and soul. I love you for pity's sake! Why!?" The tears had begun to fall whilst you screamed across at him. "You were never in any mortal danger, were you?" Your shock echoed in your tone as more things were beginning to become clear. Sauron snickered, admitting nothing, but you knew. "I... but I saw the wound... the blood... your fever... your unconscious state. You deceived us? Deceived me?" "It was the only way to guarantee entrance to the realm of the elven smiths. The only way without seeming... suspicious."

"Once I am healed... you said. I knew there was something I was not seeing! Don't you know how scared I was for you?! That not only once, but twice, I had to process the thought of you leaving this world, of you leaving me... how could you make me feel this way? I was grieving you!" You bellowed your words bitterly at him, not caring for the consequences. Sauron did not flinch, letting each of your words strike him willingly. "Two people died because of me! A-and you convinced me it was the right choice! That I was serving my king. I had no right to take their lives."

  You almost couldn't believe the words you were saying. You thought for certain that the darkness in you had all but extinguished the light. But now that the veil between the lies and the truth had been pulled back, you suddenly realised what kind of hold he had on you. And that now that you knew who he really was, you could feel the light returning. Sauron's eyes darkened as he watched you begin to slip away from him.

"I should have stayed with my father... then they would still be alive. If he knew what I had become-" "He knows nothing but oblivion." interjected the dark lord. Your eyes went wide. "What... what do you mean?" Asking him a question you already knew the answer to. Sauron smiled at you briefly, before looking upon you with concern. "I couldn't have him in this world... not when he caused you such pain." "You killed him?" "For you, my love. Just as you have since done for me."

  You felt yourself grow lightheaded at his words, your eyes fading to a blackness, then when it cleared, you were back in Númenor, back in the home of your father. Looking down, you noticed you were wearing the same dress from the night you said goodbye to him. Gazing out the window, you saw dawn beginning to bring the world back to light. Movement in the room caught your eye, and you glanced over at where your father lay, turning in his sleep, once again in that chair. This time his ale had spilt down his very worn and already stained beige tunic. The image of a man who had suffered much, and many who had suffered him.

The door opened behind you and through it walked Halbrand. Sauron, wearing a cloak so black that no light shone upon it. He slowly crept into the room, looking straight at you. Somehow, he saw you, even though you weren't truly there. Your eyes followed his as he wandered around where you stood, moving closer to your father. He turned his back to you then, and you noticed the dagger in his right hand. It was the very same dagger you had taken from Halbrand's chamber in the palace. The one you had used to kill.

Sauron gripped your father by the throat with his left hand, lifting him into the air with ease, like a pig ready for slaughter. This promptly startled him awake, and he would have bellowed in terror if his windpipe wasn't so constricted. You stood there and watched as he wriggled and writhed, his hands struggling to pry himself free from his captor, his eyes containing a fear in them like you had never seen. Your father couldn't breathe, and despite you not minding at first that he was hurting, you were beginning to find it difficult to witness. Not wishing him any further anguish, you quickly moved towards Sauron in an effort to get him to stop.

You had scarcely made two steps when his malevolent tone entered the air, his voice warped and unsettling, its sound now very familiar to you. "You cannot change what has already come to pass, my love." His head turned to you, the black slits of his eyes piercing your soul. A small smile appeared on his face. A face that despite belonging to darkness, was a face you couldn't help but still love. A hauntingly beautiful visage you couldn't see life without. Regardless of what was right.

  You stood motionless once more, barely feet away from the two beings, and the scene that played out before you was nothing short of horrific. Sauron's smile evolved into an evil grin, and as he turned back to your father, your name passed his lips. "This is for her." Your father's right hand was still hopelessly trying to break loose the dark lord's grip, and in seconds, without any effort, Sauron had removed it from his wrist. The now limp extremity landed on the ground with a thud, and blood poured from your father's severed limb.

The expression on his face instantly changed from terror to complete and utter agony. In the next moment, the dagger fulfilled its purpose by easily penetrating the gut of your father, spilling more blood onto the floor. Sauron twisted it cruelly inside his flesh, causing your father to make what noise he could, whimpering like a dog. Your love then removed the blade, thrusting it again into his body. And again. And again. Finally, when he was satisfied that life was about to leave him, Sauron pulled your wounded father flush against himself, by the collar of his now reddened shirt. He dragged the dagger fast across your father's throat, mirroring the final blow you struck Nisarien when you ended her existence. Blood spurted from his neck, and you looked on in horror as the light vanished from his eyes. Sauron tossed his corpse to the floor, then he slowly turned to face you. The only colour on him was the crimson splashed upon his face. Blood had landed on his lips, and he licked them clean as he stared deeply into your eyes once more.

He smirked, "My queen."

It was then that you returned to the world, Sauron releasing the hold upon your mind. It took a few seconds for you to gather yourself, yet you couldn’t stop your voice from trembling when you finally spoke. "W-why... why did you show me that?!" "To remind you that I love you, as you love me. That I will do anything for you, as I know you would me, as you have already proven." "No, no, you manipulated me... you influenced me to take those lives... I'm certain you did." Sauron smiled at you again, but it wasn't of a dark nature, it was quite the opposite. "I have shown you things, truths that are fast approaching. But that was only to plant the seed. Only you could make those choices." "What do you mean, 'shown me things'...? You have shown me the death of my father by your hand! What else could you have possib-" His smile widened, pride etched upon his face, as he watched you piece it together.

The dreams. Your nightmares. The visions. All were planted by Sauron himself.

"It... it... it was y-you! The whole time it was you! Every dark image conjured by your design! Including..." you felt sick before you could say it. "Including... my mother?!" "No, as it turns out. That was all her. My only purpose was to bring you back to me. Back to your destiny at my side." "My destiny?!" You paused then considering the term. It wasn't the first instance of a mention of your apparent fate to be bound to him, but hearing it now let it sink into your head differently than before. "My... destiny..." The word began to lose its meaning as it replayed in your mind. Was it really your destiny to be a dark queen? To love Sauron? To slaughter, enslave, and torture? To rule? You had once known your destiny to be queen of the Southlands, by Halbrand's side. But was it also this, and only this all along?

Halbrand. Oh Halbrand, where did you go?

"I'm right here, my love." You shrieked, not expecting a response to your question. He could hear your thoughts too. Of course he could. Looking over at him, again you started to cry, and your head started to ache. For you were gazing upon Halbrand, the love of your life, but Sauron, the dark lord, was gazing back at you.

In that moment, you quickly got to your feet, and ran into the forest, as fast as your legs would allow, your sobbing drowning out the sound of Sauron's voice calling your name in the distance behind you.

Tagging: @starlady66 @denzit @chimeracuddles @restless-tides @hikarielizabethbloom @anemarie @coraleethroughthelookingglass @mordorgp

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand/sauron x reader #halbrand #sauron #charlie vickers #the rings of power #trop #lord of the rings #lotr

[penguuthegentoo]

The ball session had given me so many feels

These are all snippets from the ball and everyone tackling love in one way or another

A short lil story under the cut if y’all are interested 😌

It was not often that Bahari found her confidence shaken. That was just who she was-- the one who is unfaltering, nothing could put her down. But... his words for a moment made her feel a feeling she hadn't felt in many, many years. Insecurity.

"If I'm honest, this was not something I ever thought would be in the cards for me. But, sometimes when you know," he looked to her with a smile, "you know."

And for a moment, she was painfully aware of her position; his arm wrapped aroud hers, standing hip to hip. Those countless nights at the Jewel flash through her mind--his personal dinner date at his table, in perfect view of the rest of the establishment. Her eyes looked towards the crowd of nobles and aristocrats and in her mind something clicked.

His words should have made her estatic but instead they just made her cold.

"All you ever are and ever will be is a trophy to be looked at, but never heard." Her mother's words echoed vitrole in her head.

She suddenly wondered if that's all this really was? For who better to parade upon your arm or invite to your personal table than a famed muscian and adventurer? One of the ones who saved the Queen? What better way to appease yourself to the masses than with one of their own? She felt the doubt creep into her mind like a growing mold.

She registred Queen Oslyn opening up about her prediciment: she was to be wed whether she wanted to or not.

"I can't just marry for love, not when I have the city to consider."

Bahari's grip tightened on Praxys' arm and she felt him respond in kind. She looked to him for a moment--a look of acknowledgment and worry--and ever so slightly the doubt receded. He knew of her past--the key points of it anyway. If all she was, was a trophy... then he wouldn't express such concern and solidarity to her?

Would he?

- - -

The night continued on and she tried to not to let her doubt consume her more. She brushed her hair aside and let the mask settle into place.

Questions of automony, friendship, vultures and suddenly--

"--My position just wouldn't allow it. Especially not at events like this, where everyone’s looking at who everyone's with." The unspoken 'There are eyes on us' gripped Bahari by the throat.

"It's doubled edged sword, being seen positively or not. If I wasn't the attention whore I am, I'd much rather be seen with indifference." She passes it off as joke. Those eyes on her from every angle have never felt so perverse. She reveled in being seen, but not like this. On the stage she was in control of how and why people percieved her. She was in control of how they hear her. But here? Not for the first time that night she felt like an accessory.

Mentions of a performance for the queen have her bounding away from her partner before he can even open his mouth to respond.

- - -

Bahari felt her self dancing between pure affection and cold insecurity.

Their performance, as usual, was amazing. Up until her footing faltered and she found herself flying from the stage and out into the crowd. Familiar arms caught her with ease and whispered worried questions in her ear.

"Are you alright? You're not hurt?"

"Physically I'm peachy... it's my ego that's shattered." She can't keep the embarrassment and frustration from her voice at such a rookie mistake. "I've made an utter fool of myself." She feels all of those eyes. She wasn't perfect and they know-- he knows--

"Don't be ridiculous. You all are amazing-- you're amazing."

She looks to him with wide eyes before shooting a glance back to Dove, watching her try to clean up her mess as best she could. Her friend pivoted the focus to her, a show of 'this was all a part of the performance'. Bahari feels grateful to her. She looked to him again for a brief moment, trying to understand her waring emotions--then decides that she doesn't have the time for that and puts a pin in it. She instead leant up, kissed his cheek and said, "toss me."

And he does.

And, as if nothing had happened, the concert resumes and she felt her grip on the room return to her.

All eyes are on her, because she has crafted it that way. Not as a trophy, but as a spectacle of her creation.

- - -

With the impromptu concert compelete she feels she can finally steal away for a moment. She sent her partner a look at that says, 'Talk to me?'

He easily deciphered the look and followed after her. Eyes stick to her back the whole way until she found some secluded balcony. The air is crisp and she inhaled deeply, letting it soothe her frazzled nerves. Praxys wore a look that whispered curiosity and affection as he met her out in the evening air.

Before he can open her mouth she's already asking her question.

"Earlier you said to the Queen, 'you know when you know'," about us "did you mean that?" She wrung her paws together, allowing herself to be vulnerable, "do you... do you know?"

She almost didn't ask. She wasn't ready for her fears to be confirmed--that all it ever was, was an image to keep. That all she ever was, was a trophy to show off.

Bahari had told him that she was all in. That she was here for it all, good and bad. But... if it was a mere game to him then... she promised herself she wouldn't let herself be someone's toy ever again.

His response surprised her. From his jacket, he pulled a small hand harp. He spoke of how he had been reminded of how near and dear music was to him--because of her. How he had wanted to have her play on his enchanted harp so that he could always listen to her music even when she wasn't near. But that he feared the conotations of such a request, fearing she'd think he'd only want her for her music, and not for her.

Bahari was uncharacteristically speechless as she gazed at the instrument. Without much thought, she reached out for it and plucked gently at the strings, the tune intimately familiar to her but unknown to the world.

When she finished she placed the harp in his hands and said in a shaky whisper, "now that you have your song, I hope you don't forget the one who played it."

He tucked the harp into his coat with surprising speed before he took her hands softly, but firmly, into his. "The harp is a mere echo of what I have in front of me right now." The dull hum of the party competes with the thumping of Bahari's heart. "My wish is that we can enjoy this evening together, until the sun's risen and much longer--if you’ll have me." Maybe it wasn't just her heart she was hearing.

She felt the doubt melt away, leaving her head and heart fuzzy and warm. She allowed herself a smile as she squeezed his hands.

She wasn't a trophy. Not to him or to anyone else. She was just... Bahari. And that thought filled her with relief.

Out of view of prying eyes, she grabbed his frilly neck tie and pulled him down for a kiss.

"As if I could ever say no to such a request."

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #dnd oc #furry #furry oc #mousefolk #half elf #triton #tiefling #forbolg #asimar #npcs #friend ocs #peng's art #peng's ocs #Bahari #Praxys #Praxhari #Dove #I’ve been trying to figure out how to post all of these #just dumping them into one post #and hoping for the best #sorry not sorry that y’all will be almost exclusively seeing this mouse lady #my poor insta peeps had to deal with me at the prime of my obsession #exp

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

plot twst (heheh) ending

after everything rollo ends up as a die hard simp for malleus and raven

maybe he even ships them when he finds out they’re not in fact related

[Related Posts: Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8]

We skipped over the battle atop the bell tower part 😂 and immediately went to the resolution--

WELL. Seeing as how Rollo still seems super resentful and stubborn about his beliefs even by the time of the masquerade 🤡 probably not?? Maybe a burgeoning, begrudging smidgen of respect for stopping him before he did something unspeakable, something that would make his departed brother sad--even if he doesn’t openly or explicitly acknowledge that.

Malleus pressures Rollo into having a dance with him, so maybe the prince could pass him off to Raven afterwards (who’s dancing with Sebek--).

Something like...

“Pardon, may I cut in?” Malleus inquires, nodding towards his flustered knight.

“M-Milord wishes to share a dance?! OH, JOYOUS DAY!!” Beads of glistening tears collect in Sebek’s eyes. “B-But of course, that is not to say that I also do not enjoy dancing with Milady!! NOT AT ALL!!”

“You’ve been acting quite strangely this entire time,” Raven grumbles, relinquishing her grasp on Sebek. “He’s all yours, Malleus-senpai--”

Her voice fades away when she takes a look at Malleus’s partner--at the cold, pale hand slipping into hers. The diamond-cut jewel upon his middle finger catches a ray of glitter-cut moonlight and comes to life like a dancing flame. Raven’s heart jumps.

“... Miss.” Rollo’s tone is as pointed as glass. His eyebrows are creased with displeasure. “May I have this dance?”

Raven glances helplessly at Malleus. “Is Silver-senpai or Rook-senpai avaliable?” she squeaks.

He folds his arms, his expression turning stern. “Young Crowley, you must not waver. Let your conviction be known. For your words to be heard, and for them to resonate with those who need it most... That is what you desire most of all, is it not?”

What I desire most of all.

Raven stares at him, unable to argue. He speaks the truth, and she cannot deny it.

Then, like a fairy godmother or a genie of the lamp having granted the final wish, Malleus turns away and vanishes. Not with sparkles or with fanfare, but by quietly gliding across the dance floor, Sebek trailing after.

“Hmph.” Rollo sniffs stiffly, letting his hand drop. “You must truly detest me.”

“... Not at all.” She tries to sound friendly, and she can’t tell if she’s successful or not. “I think we’re a lot alike. And maybe... just maybe... that might be why I’m a little scared of you--and why I feel so sad too. Because it’s scary looking into the mirror and seeing the ugliness of your soul reflected back.”

The surprise lasts for only a second before a glare wipes it clean off. “What nonsense. What could you possibly understand about me?”

“I understand more than you believe I do.” Raven sadly shakes her head. “... You once described magic as being a ‘cage’ that keeps me locked in. You said that I should be set free from it.”

Whether Rollo-senpai realizes it or not... Back then, he was also talking about himself. She ached at the thought, her cheeks heating up and her eyes threatening to burst into tears.

“But I don’t think that’s true at all. It’s not the magic that’s caging me or holding me back. I think... it’s this.” Raven taps at her chest. “Guilt, self-hatred, and fear—but I was fortunate enough to go to Night Raven College, to meet people that changed those doubts into hope.”

“I believe I asked for a dance, not for a lecture or your pity.” Rollo takes an abrupt step back. His handkerchief of moons and stars flutters into view, hiding his nose and mouth—but his eyes burn with a smoldering disgust. “The fault was not my own, so why should I be forced to endure your self-righteousness?”

Her feathers quiver, as if set aflame by his scathing words. Yet she does not balk from the heat.

What I desire most of all is…

Raven inhales shakily and presses on. “If you look around, you’ll realize that there are others that care for you and want to see you at your best. You don’t need to face your pain alone anymore.”

Raven tilts her head, and Rollo follows her line of sight. Nestled away in the corner of the room are his vice president and aide, glasses of punch and ours d'oeuvres in hand. They’re excitedly chatting about something with a stocky, animated gargoyle.

Rollo frowns, his face crumpling into a complicated expression.

“That’s something I had to learn for myself, so... I know it’s possible for you too, Rollo-senpai. Let others in. Reflect, repent, and forgive yourself. Only then can you rediscover joy.” Raven gives what she thinks is a reassuring smile. “I’m sure he would have wished for your happiness as well.”

At this, Rollo startles, crushing his handkerchief in his fingers. Hot and cold, fire and ice, rage in his veins. Through gritted teeth, he hisses, “... As if it could be so simple. Do not lump me in with you, the sort of degenerate that relishes her captivity.”

But there is a tug at his conscience. A discrepancy in his observations. They give him pause.

The merciless Malleus Draconia, condemning him to his thoughts. The merciful Raven Crowley, pleading for him to change his ways. Two sides, opposites.

“You…” Rollo narrows his eyes, the fire in them dimming from hate to hesitant curiosity. “Just what ARE you? You’re clearly nothing like the others from Night Raven College. No--you’re too... kind, too fuzzy, like some Royal Sword Academy student.”

"I’m a raven. I just made my nest and found a family of friends where the wind took me.”

“... Nfufu. I see it now.” Rollo crosses his arms, smirking. “It appears I was gravely mistaken. Of course. You are not the same as that man.”

There is no conceivable way that a fool as soft as this one would be related to Malleus Draconia.

“... I don’t know if I enjoy whatever conclusion that you’ve come to just now. It feels as though you’re looking down on me.” Raven sighs. “Well... as long as you take my advice to heart--”

“I never said I would.”

“... Has anyone told you that your attitude is positively infuriating?”

“Were I a mirror, I would say the same to you--since you claim that we are so alike.”

“………………………. If I am like you, and you are like me, then I will be your reflection and repeat your words back to you.” She extends a hand. “May I have this dance?”

ANYWAY I’M TOO TIRED TO WRITE MORE SO JUST PICTURE THEM ALSO SHARING AN AWKWARD DANCE WHILE THEY GLARE AT EACH OTHER LIKE ROLLO DID WITH MALLEUS

I find the “Rollo ships Raven with Malleus” angle difficult to incorporate, since I don’t really think Rollo would assume such a thing. I don’t personally see the ship either. If I had to describe Raven and Malleus’s relationship, it doesn’t really come off as romantic. It’s more like a clear mentor and mentee relationship, with Malleus as the strong, confident leader that Raven quietly admires and tries to learn from and live up to. At best, maybe Rollo would leave the masquerade thinking they’re co-conspirators against him.

Meanwhile, Sebek leaves the event still thinking Malleus and Raven are distant relatives because no one bothered to clarify for him--

#twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #Rollo Flamme #Sebek Zigvolt #Malleus Draconia #I like how Rook is technically present but I just didn't simp for him at all #HE DIDN'T HAVE THAT BIG OF A ROLE #there's nothing for me to scream about #sorry Rook #Raven Crowley #she can somewhat relate to taking extreme measures to try and achieve something she wants but at the cost of another's life #though the difference is that she had people willing to support her that put her on the right track #so. maybe she's hopeful for Rollo to have that someday too #YES I WROTE THE GARGOYLES JOINING IN BECAUSE THEY TOTALLY DESERVE A DANCE PARTY #Rollo Flamm

[whirl-whump]

The Werewolf pt.2: the Duke

Mind the warnings on this one! CWS: dehumanization, teeth whump mentioned (not excecuted), death mention (nothing on-screen), manhandling, death threats, it as pronouns, blood/aftermath of gore, hitting, psychological whump, near-emeto

SPOILER CW: these CWS are spoilers, but they are intense. Skip these at your own risk!! CW: child death strongly implied, though it's revealed to not actually be the case at the end. No child is hurt/shown on-screen. Intense feeling of guilt/grief, self hatred.

Taglist: @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question

MASTERLIST

In the end, the werewolf hadn’t been able to walk to the estate, and was dragged the rest of the way. His fingers had turned white- it was hard to tell whether from fear, bloodloss or cold. The dark wood of the service entrance opened up as though to swallow him whole, and inside it was dim. When the doors closed, the only pale morning light entered through the high thin windows. 

Oscar was thrown to the hard stone floor of the mudroom, and with his hands bound behind him, his knees hit the ground with a painful thud. An iron-studded sole between his shoulder blades pushed his forehead to the floor and kept him there. The other hunter kept the bow aimed at him, which pricked his skin like a pair of eyes. Oscar clenched his fists and stared at the rough stone. 

Just what had he eaten to deserve such treatment? This seemed like a lot of trouble for livestock. A horse, perhaps? The wolf usually didn’t go for big prey, but he had been hungry lately.  

Hushed whispers, fast fading footsteps, then silence rang- save for the drip of his wounds. There was no biting wind in the mudroom, but it was far from warm. Oscar’s thoughts got sluggish, and his fear ran out of stamina. He had almost let his mind drift, when he was startled back to awareness by approaching footsteps. They stopped, before Oscar’s bowed head. The shoes were leather, without any dirt on them.  

“So this is it?”  

This was a voice that got listened to, no doubt about that. Even if a rich man dressed in rags, his polished accent and air of confidence would give him away. This man was no exception. Tiredness and distaste dripped off his tone, and Oscar felt cold to his core. The hunter pressing his boot into his back responded.  

“Yes, your grace. Herrick’s arrow was in its thigh, and there’s blood on its...” The sentence trailed off, unfinished. “Er, well. It's him.”   The boot dissapeared, but Oscar didn’t dare to look up or speak. He wasn’t killed on the spot. Any misstep could stop that.   The Duke spoke.  

“Look at me, beast.”  

Oscar lifted his head, but he wished he could have stayed curled up. Half-naked and covered in blood, he must look like the monster they thought he was. He tried to stay bend over, both to appear as docile as he could, and to hide himself from view.  

“Y-your grace,” he greeted with a hoarse voice.  

The Duke looked like he’d been through a hellish night. There were bags under his eyes and his chestnut beard was a mess.   He grimaced in disgust and fury when Oscar’s blood covered front was revealed. His hand twitched, like he could throttle the werewolf then and there.  

“So it’s true. I could have you shot right now. I should. It's what you deserve”  

Oscar’s mouth turned cork dry.  

“...Thank you for not doing so?” It came out like a question, since he wasn’t sure how long it would last. “And... I really am very sorry, your grace.”  

“You’re sorry?” The duke asked, as though it had been an insult.    

“I am. But..." Oscar couldn’t continue pleading his case, without knowing what his crime was. "Why am I here, your grace?” 

The Duke’s expression hardened, if such a thing was even possible. Visciously, he slapped the werewolf, and the ring on his pink finger cut a line on his cheekbone. A fresh trail of red joined the maroon mess on his face, and he barely kept from falling over. 

The Duke was slightly out of breath with fury.   “I ought to have you shot like the rabid dog you are! You-! You dare ask me why?”  

Oscar hunched his shoulder, bracing for another hit.   “No, your grace, I know I did something wrong! But I don’t know what!” He spoke faster to explain before another hit, or worse, an arrow. “I mean, I don’t remember anything from last night, your grace, please!” 

Some of the fury stilled as the Duke took that in.   “You don’t?”  

“No. The wolf and I, we’re different things. I don’t remember or control what it does.” Oscar dared to peel his eyes from the floor, and asked in a small voice: “So... I don’t know what I ate last night. Please, could you tell me?”  

The Duke glared the werewolf down with a gaze as cold as steel. “I see. I think you deserve to know.” His voice cut like a dagger, his barely-contained fury leaching through like poison.  

“It was my son you attacked.”  

If he hadn’t been kneeling, Oscar would have collapsed. Everything spun around him.  

“No...” he whispered in horror. He had never hurt a human before. He had thought- no, hoped- that the wolf wouldn’t get that desperate, that he could be alright so long as he stayed away from towns...  

As tears filled his eyes, he heard the Duke continue. Every bit of hatred in his voice was justified.  

“He was barely eight.”  

“No!” Oscar couldn’t breathe. He deserved this pain, but he couldn’t bear to hear it. He tried to gasp for air, but it was like nothing was coming in. His voice cracked as he cried:  “No, please! Why didn’t you shoot me right away?” 

 Then, his thoughts were brought to a screeching halt by a realization. Oh god. The blood that’d been on him all morning, the evidence that had crusted and covered his mouth, his throat, his chest-! 

Oscar barely pushed down the urge to be sick. He tried to get his hands free, but the ropes just dug in. It wasn’t as painful as he deserved. He writhed like a wurm on a hook, trying to rub off the nauseating evidence.  “Please, get it off of me!” he begged frantically. The only thing he got for it, was a kick against his back. He fell over and made no attempts to get up.  

His face was numb, and his muscles ached from shaking. He was a monster. No other word was enough.   He got up on his knees enough to look up at the father of the boy. The hatred that burned in his eyes was cold. Whatever Oscar’s punishment would be, it would be a careful and slow one. No doubt he’d be grateful when it would end.  

“I... I am so sorry,” Oscar managed to stammer out through the lurging of his stomach.  

The Duke’s lips tightened.  

“Do you think I care for your apologies, beast?”  

“No...” Oscar said honestly. “But I don’t know what else to say.” He let his eyes fall down to the floor. Dully, he whispered: “If I had pliers, I’d rip out my own teeth.”   It wasn’t a lie. He should have done so the moment he got his curse, to make sure this couldn’t happen.  

The Duke was still for a moment. Then, he spoke curtly to the hunter who’d pushed him with the boot.  

“Bring it to the cell. Get that arrow out, we don’t want it to die yet.”  

Oscar was hauled upright, but he was entirely supported by the grip on his arms. There was no way his feet would support him now. He tried to go in the direction he was manhandled, too numb with guilt for anything else. The tears dragged white tracks through the blood on his face.  

The hunter who held him was the same man who’d given his his cloak, the only thing he had that was remotely human. So maybe, just maybe, Oscar could risk begging.  

“Please,” he whispered. “Can I get something to wash with? I think I’m going to be sick...”  

Without warning, the hunter slammed Oscar sideways against the wall, knocking his head against it hard. Stars danced in his eyes and the floor morphed and danced.  

The answer was clear. Oscar would not be allowed to wash away the blood he had spilled. He bit down bile, and let himself be carried away without another word.  

----------------------------------- 

The Duke watched the wolf be carried off limply, but his eyes were somewhere far away. He rubbed his forehead, anger making way for bone-deep exhaustion.  

He would have to clarify the situation to the hunters later. He couldn’t have the rumor spread that his son had actually died from the attack.  

It had gotten close. He felt he’d aged ten years in a night. But he’d been assured that the worst was over, and the boy would survive.

The beast had seemed remorseful. But werewolves were decievers by nature, and the duke would not fall for its tricks. And if it could feel guilt, that would serve him right. He hadn’t earned the mercy of the truth.  

No doubt everyone in the estate would be relieved to hear the boy would be alive and well. Except, they wouldn’t get the full truth either. His son would not be “well” again.  

As he stood alone in the chilly mud room, the duke wished he could have killed the beast for what it had done. But he shouldn’t, not yet.  Lycanthropy was a terrible curse. The healers had warned him in hushed whispers that, though his son would recover, there is a very high chance he’d develop the same sickness.   It spread like rabies. And like it, there was no known cure.  

The duke steeled his shoulders, and corrected himself. There was no known cure yet. He didn’t care what it would take. That monster in the basement would spit out every last damn secret about its curse, so his innocent boy could be healed. Whatever it would took, the duke would make things right again. 

#things are going to get much worse for oscar before they got better #werewolf #whump #whumpblr #fantasy whump #nonhuman whumpee #werewolf whumpee #dehumanization #teeth whump) #death mention #manhandling #death threats #it as pronouns #hitting #psychological whump #near-emeto #blood #child death implied #i almost feel bad for writing this. because i think it would have been too intense for me as a reader #however. I wanted to write a story where the werewolf character is actually dangerous #like a wild wolf would be. #dead dove do not eat #guilt #grief #self harm mentioned #oscar #the duke #my writing #my work

[amethyst-halo]

Being 100% honest here, I feel like a lot of the recent fandom hate towards Sunbeam and/or Nightheart seems to be very… overblown?

I think Night was well within his right to leave ThunderClan, personally - Sparkpelt, Squirrelflight, Finchlight, and Lionblaze have all been shown so far to have put needless pressure on him to conform to a VERY high standard set by someone that he never even got the chance to know before he was born, and is lambasted for it when he dares to request a name change as a means of carving out his own sense of belonging within the clan. That is toxic. Is it a bit too self-loathing about it for my taste? Absolutely. But he’s still being reduced down to someone else’s identity by his family + being shunned by them for expressing any sort of individuality outside of it, which is not a healthy living situation to be in at all. I feel like some of the fandom is making it out as if Night openly believes that everyone around him hates him, when that’s simply not the case - he openly acknowledges that he has been shown nothing but respect and support by Alderheart, Jayfeather, Bayshine, Sorrelstripe, Finleap, Brightheart, and Twigbranch. It’s really just his immediate family that’s the problem - and I think that, in such a case, it would be the healthiest option for him to get away from them. With Sunbeam, I don’t think that it’s ooc for her to be a little bit insensitive with Lightleap’s feelings - she’s been previously characterized to be a bit oblivious and aloof, in my opinion. She doesn’t seem to pick up on that stuff as easily as others do, and that’s something that she’ll probably have to work on. She still has good intentions at heart, but just goes about expressing her feelings rather poorly - and really doesn’t give herself time to process her thoughts before acting. I just think that people have judged these protagonists a bit too harshly considering how early on we are into the arc - I highly doubt that Nightheart’s angst or Sunbeam’s obliviousness will be something that isn’t improved upon as the series goes on. Jayfeather, Hollyleaf, and Ivypool are some examples of this - characters grow and develop throughout the books, overcoming their flaws to some degree, if that makes sense!

hi!! yea i can definitely see where ur coming from here. i think for sure there are some harsh judgements this early in the series, yea.

i personally don't have- and i think most others don't have- a problem with nightheart's reasons for doing what he does. it's absolutely toxic for him to be put under the pressures he's facing and it's probably the healthiest for him atm to leave that situation. most of my and others' problems from what i understand is that a: the characters around him are being forced out of character solely for nightheart's arc- specifically female characters i.e. squirrelflight sparkpelt and finchlight (and also lionblaze who is honestly completely in character imo), and b: his arc COULD have gone to his mother, a noted firestar clone, instead. he Shouldn't have to be put under these pressures and he Should be allowed to carve out his own place in the clans. the erins just think the only way to do that is for everyone to bully him even if they never would, and they won't give the arc to someone who could have had it earlier and would possibly fit the role better. and ig i don't know for sure bc i don't have the book yet, but iirc he does think a few times that everyone hates him, whether or not it's true and whether or not there are exceptions. idk if he ever Says it outside of the end of sky, but i feel like i remember seeing a few places where he thinks it at least; it's pretty open to the reader imo, i just dunno if its open to the characters

i agree with u on sunbeam! she feels like she's in her own head a lot and not picking up on everything around her. i think her feeling bad about lightleap and blazefire makes sense bc (from what i understand) romantic feelings are just Like That sometimes. she might like... be feeling them at a bad time or something, but she isn't acting on them from what i can tell rn. she was, kind of, when she got herself hurt, but she feels like she's trying more to keep it to herself now. some of her reactions are out of place, but she seems to know that and is trying to minimize her outward responses. she's juggling her feelings for blazefire with her argument with lightleap with her stress from literally everything else going on, and i think it's understandable if her feelings get a little mixed up in there somewhere.

yea though, i agree with u! i'm willing to give both of them a little more time before solidifying my opinions i think- granted, am already biased but askjdhjs y'know

ty for ur thoughts!!!! i like having convos

#I THINK I COVERED EVERYTHING i am notoriously bad at reading askdhjhdjkff #long post #asc sky #asc spoilers #warrior cats spoilers #wc spoilers #sketch answers #fellidate