#and its true there have been romances after but none like him nothing like us and i am very young but maybe i romance is not for me

[angellayercake]

He is

Vampire Terzo x FReader | NSFW

Art by the wonderful @tasty-ribz

For @ghostchems on her birthday! To be a little bit soppy as much as I love ghost for being ghost it has also brought me some incredible friends. We bonded over loving terzo and love island and now you are my favourite person to scream about awful men with every day. I hope everyone is making you feel a special as Terzo would today because as far as we are concerned yours is the only important birthday happening this month 💜

Now a best selling author thanks to your experience at Crowley Manor you find yourself struggling to muster up inspiration for the sequel. Will returning to the place it all began help you? Or just confirm the none of it was real? A sequel to Cirice Warnings: blood, rough sex, hints of mind control, pinv sex, cunnilingus, lots of dust hehe

With a huff of frustration you scratch out the poor excuse for a sentence and drop your pen. There were more scribbles across the page then there were words and you needed a break or you might end up throwing your note pad across the room. Abandoning your desk you wander over to the window for a distraction from your writer's block. The evening was drawing in, street lights flickering on one by one as people hurried home from their day whether it be work or leisure it was still an unwelcome reminder of your lack of productivity. Turning from the view you scan across the room, your home office, hoping for something to spark your inspiration but your mind remains unhelpfully blank. You ponder just giving up for the day, shutting the door and giving yourself over to your evening but deadlines are approaching and there is still so much to do. With a reluctant determination, you turn to your inspiration board and will it to do its job. 

When you had decided to write a follow up to your best selling debut novel, you had carefully gathered all the things you knew you would need to refer to to build the story. There were your photographs from Crowley Manor, newspaper clippings about the house and the area, quotes and key plot points from the original story,  a couple of photos of bela lugosi, the closest you can find to how you remember him looking - although you have sketched what you recall of the facepaint he wore over the top with a marker - and in the centre, the note; the only thing you have that proves that it was real. Well, that and the two small scars on your neck. You rub your fingers over them absentmindedly as you try to remember anything more but even as the scars faded, so did your memories to the point where you are not entirely sure any of it was real. Reading over the words again. 

 A candle casting a faint glow

You and I see eye to eye

Can you hear the thunder?

How can you hear the thunder that's breaking?

Now there is nothing between us

From now our merge is eternal

Can't you see that you're lost?

Can't you see that you're lost without me?

-iii

You hum the tune to yourself, the melody you had only heard once and yet it plays through your dreams so frequently you have never been able to forget it, always accompanied by a dark shadow and the sense that you are being watched. Your experience at Crowley Manor - whether a true encounter with a dashing vampire or a figment of your imagination - had changed your life. You were a writer now; a successful published writer. Your vampire romance novel had been an instant best seller, ‘the mysterious vampire luring in unsuspecting victims until one stole his heart’ earned a loyal fanbase and quickly. In interview after interview you were asked if you had based him on someone real, probably assuming he was an older man you had a crush on, but you always answered no because how could you explain that he was a man you had most likely conjured up in a dream. 

But that had all brought you to where you were now; attempting to write the much anticipated sequel. The heroine of your story had left the manor in a similar way to you but after having spent much longer with her vampire lover, and as much as you wanted to see them reunited you were struggling to find the narrative. Unlike you she had been offered forever with him and had chosen to return to her normal life, so without a justified reason, why would she return? Your thought process hits a brick wall once again as you rub your tired eyes. There is only one thing left to try before you may be forced to give up. The familiar pull in your gut that you had been resisting since the day you left was finally winning. You had to go back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gate is rusted and stiff, so you have to push hard to create enough space for you to slip through and even then you almost trip on the piles of rubbish littering the driveway. You step over the buckled historical society sign with a sigh - even they had given up on the place and for some time by the looks of things. Tall weeds were growing through the now sparse gravel, even more windows had been boarded up and there were layers of faded graffiti covering the front door. It is already ajar but you have to shove it open, pushing it past the built up leaves and dust trying to wedge it closed. Although the state of the outside had saddened you, it is the interior that makes your heart sink -  it was never nice to see a beautiful old house fall into ruin.

The floorboards still gave their familiar creak under your soft footsteps, but that was about the only similarity. The sconces, once filled with dripping candles were now empty and shrouded in cobwebs, and dust motes thick enough to choke you floated in what little beams of light that made it through the windows. Without the soft piano luring you further into the house you took your time to properly look around, cautiously walking through room after room. What little furniture that hadn’t been stolen or vandalised was covered in dust sheets. The shelving sits almost empty in every room; you pass only a few odd books and trinkets still in place but almost unrecognisable underneath all the grime. 

Towards the back of the house you come to what looks like a music room and a feeling of deja vu washes over you. The grand piano still dominates the room, but when you run your fingers across what little keys are left it only lets out reluctant, discordant notes as neglected and decaying as the rest of your surroundings. The fireplace is a yawning chasm on the back wall without the welcoming fire filling it, but you remember laying on the soft rug before it where he had given and taken unimaginable pleasure from you, well at least you thought. Because it was seeming more and more likely you had imagined it. You pull yourself from your thoughts and that is when the portrait catches your eye. How you never noticed it before you don’t understand, but it hangs perfectly above the mantel and crushes the last shreds of hope you were clinging onto. 

It is him. His distinctive face paint, his perfectly styled hair and his intense mismatched eyes. At least now you know what really happened on your last visit to this place. Before you had fallen asleep you must have seen this portrait on your last visit, striking as he was and then your mind had concocted the whole fantasy. You are not sure exactly what you had been expecting returning to Crowley Manor, but you couldn’t avoid the cutting disappointment that was slicing through you. All that was here was an empty old house and a painting of a man. With one last longing look you take your leave as you fight the knot of feelings solidifying in your chest. There was nothing else for you here. You reach the foyer where the light of dusk shines around the edges of the open door, illuminating your exit from this house and your return to reality, when you hear it… 

We're standing here by the abyss…

That voice. The words were different and even the tune was different, but that voice. There was nothing else it could be but him. The alluring sound drifts down from the upper floor to where you stand and you don’t even try to resist his siren call as your feet carry you towards the grand staircase.

And the world is in flames…

Your footprints disturb the thick layers of dust covering the once grand carpet that leads the way up, but you continue unconcerned by the trail you are leaving in your wake, your only thought finding your way to the source of that beautiful sound. 

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out…

It gets clearer as you reach the upper level, but you still haven't quite found him yet. Along the landing are multiple doors that you consider as you walk, but once your eyes land on the ornate double doors at the furthest end you know inherently; that is your destination.

To the beast with many names…

The floorboards creak as you get closer and closer even as you attempt to keep your steps measured and even, but if that didn’t give you away then you are sure your laboured breathing and thundering heartbeat would. 

He is. He's the shining and the light without whom I cannot see…

The singing stops when you reach the doors and with barely a brush of your fingertips,they swing open revealing only a dark room within. Your eyes struggle to adjust to the gloom, but even that doesn’t make you hesitate to enter. It is as abandoned as the rest of this cursed house. All the anticipation you had felt soured inside you and tears pricked at your eyes as you circled in the centre of the room taking in the dusty bed and empty fireplace. Your back is turned when a sudden bang startles you, the doors slamming shut. You cry out in fear, turning in an instant and rushing towards them. Pushing and pulling is futile and they will not budge. The knowledge that you are trapped fills you with a shiver as a chill falls over the room.   

“My little lamb returns,” he growls in your ear, appearing as if from nowhere. His arms box you in against the door, his white gloves the only part of him you can see. You try to turn, to see him but his body presses close, cold and unyielding as stone behind you. You should do something, anything but fear and lust paralyse you as they tear through you in equal measure.

“You are real,” you barely whisper before his fangs sink into your neck, the sharp shock of pain stealing your consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When your eyes flutter open you find it hard to believe you are even in the same room. You are lying in the centre of a four poster bed, propped up against a mountain of airy pillows and as you shift the sheets feel unbelievably soft against your fingers. The heavy drapes are tied to the frame on one side giving you a clear view of the fireplace and the figure silhouetted against it. His back is to you, seemingly unaware that you are now awake so you take your time admiring him.

It is undoubtedly him. His hair is slicked back, familiar in both your memory and in his portrait you had not long discovered. This time he wears a white suit with gold trim that glimmers in the firelight and it is certainly one you have never seen before. He turns in your direction giving you a glimpse of his striking profile still covered in his unusual skull-like face paint. He clears his throat glancing at you and you realise he is also holding a book up to the fire light. Not just any book. That is your book. The one you had written about him. You sit bolt upright but a wave of dizziness stops you from acting any further. 

“His touch feels like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. It scares you how much you crave it; how much you want him to keep touching you and to never stop. Your heart feels like it’s beating out of your chest, despite the overwhelming feeling of comfort that has fallen over you.” He smirks as he reads your words back to you with an arrogance that can only come from knowing it was written about him. 

“How did you get that?” you hiss at him, the mortification you are experiencing seems to break some of the spell he has over you. He chuckles darkly in response, snapping the book shut and placing it on the nightstand so you can see the very suggestive illustration you had commissioned for the cover clearly.

“You have a way with words, agnellino.” He leans against the bedpost, running his eyes over you and watching how you react just to his presence. “Do you still crave my touch as much as you wrote?” His elongated teeth peek out of his mouth with how wide his smile is, clearly enjoying having this additional power over you. You almost miss not so long ago when you believed he had been a figment of your imagination. 

“It’s called creative licence,” you snap back breathlessly, trying your damnedest to keep your composure but you make the mistake of meeting his mismatched eyes and you are pulled under all over again. It’s like he can worm his way into your very soul and convince you of anything he desires.

“Why did you come back?” He looms over you at the end of the bed as he waits for you to answer him. As subtly as you can, you try to sit yourself up to make yourself feel less vulnerable but your limbs are weak and uncooperative.

“I’m writing again,” you start. It is the truth - or at least part of the truth - but you can tell he doesn't believe you, fixing you with his intense stare, waiting for you to be more forthcoming. “Last time I was here it was very… inspiring.”

“I see, I see.” He starts to pace next to the bed, giving you a reprieve and a chance to breathe but you sense it is by no means the end of your interrogation.  “Just ‘professional interest’ then?”

“Yes, that is all. I should go.” You try again to sit up and ease yourself off the bed but before your feet can touch the ground he kneels in front of you, blocking you from moving any further.

“Ah ah ah,” he scolds, wagging his finger at you like he was disciplining a wayward child. “You come into my home uninvited - again, I might add.” He leans close enough you can feel the cold radiating from him, his teeth bared threateningly. “I need the truth.” Fear makes you tense but somehow you know he would never really hurt you - at least not in a way you wouldn't enjoy. You start to think his irritation is more directed at your refusal to admit how much you want him rather than the fact you broke into his house. Again. 

“You lured me up here! You could have just let me leave.” That thought boosts your confidence just enough to push back. Just a little. He didn't have to reveal himself to you everytime you were here, and yet he did.

“No I couldn't, little lamb,” he whispers, a softness falling over his face. “I could never resist a chance to taste you again.” His attention drops to your feet, helping you out of your shoes before he stands again before you. “Tell me why you are really here.”  He had given you your chance to tell him of your own volition, but now you could feel his will influencing you and bringing forth the truth. He eases his jacket from his shoulders, leaving it on the floor where it falls. He makes quick work of his bow tie adding it to the pile of clothes at his feet. 

His cuff links go next, freeing him to turn up his sleeves and then his collar sliding one button free at a time until it hangs open. His toned chest is covered in thick dark hair and it's all you can do not to reach out and bury your fingers in it. Even without his vampiric lure, you would struggle to resist him. He crawls over you, forcing you to scoot back onto the bed to make room for him and you find yourself unable to speak as you get lost in his eyes.

“Tell me…” He is intoxicating and you find you no longer have the willpower to resist him. You had forgotten how powerful he was, his presence alone narrowing your mind until all you can think of is him. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but somehow they still won't come. 

“Why are you here agnellino, eh?” He holds himself over you, the only thing touching you are the open tails of his shirt, denying you any more until you obey him. “Did you miss me?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were real any more,” you admit reluctantly and his eyes alight at your delayed admission.

“Shall I remind you how real I am?” There is a voice in your mind somewhere telling you to say no, but with every other part of you screaming a resounding yes it is easy to tune out - though you still can’t quite bring yourself to say it. So you nod and he wastes no more time. His dexterous fingers make quick work of your trousers and your underwear, pulling them off you in one swift motion and then he is on you. His strong hand grasps your ankle, pulling you even closer so he can press his lips to your bare skin. 

He starts at the sole of your foot, lavishing you with open mouthed kisses and grazes of his dangerous teeth. He seeks out parts of your body you had never even known were sensitive before, whether it was his plush mouth sucking at them or tracing them with his tongue. The curve of your calf, the dip behind your knee and the crease of your inner thigh. His cool breath raises goosebumps across your skin and he chases them with his mouth, only pausing to suck on the beads of blood that bloom where he allows his fangs to nick your skin. The contrasts make you needy for more of his touch, the warm and the cold, the pleasure and the pain. When he eventually reaches your core he ceases all his teasing and devours you, his groans of pleasure vibrating through you as he laps at your entrance and sucks on your clit. 

“Every part of you tastes exquisite,” he moans again at your skin as he pulls at the hem of your shirt, allowing himself access to even more of your skin. Your bra is pulled roughly aside so he can latch onto your nipples one after the other. Losing himself in his lust, he pinches them roughly as his teeth make deliberate shallow slices in your cleavage. He suckles at them harshly, milking all the blood he can from such a surface cut. 

Eventually he reaches your neck pressing a deceptively gentle kiss to your scar from your last encounter before seeking out the fresher puncture wounds from earlier in the evening. He probes them harshly with his tongue disturbing the newly formed clots enabling him to drink freely from you until he is positively drunk on you. 

“You are so warm agnellino,” he moans, reluctantly pulling away from you only to tear off his loose shirt and rip off his trousers. He fits himself back on top of you, desperate to be as close as possible and ruts his aching length against your hip, his mouth latching back onto your neck. He rears back giving you the opportunity to see him for the hunger ridden monster he is, but it only makes you want him more. His face paint is smudged across his face, the once precise lines blurring and blending with what remains of your blood and your juices, and his eyes sparkle with something dangerous that you can't resist. With a snarl he forces your legs wide so he can see all of you, his fingers digging a bruising grip into your soft thighs.

“After tonight you will never again doubt my existence,” he growls as he fucks into you in one long, hard stroke. There is no waiting for you to grow accustomed to him filling you; he just takes you hard, pushing the air from your lungs every time he fills you. He is rough and demanding and you crave every part of this more animalistic side to him. Your blood loss and his body worship have pushed you outside your own body, the pleasure and the pain meeting and blending and pushing you into a euphoria you had never experienced before. 

Even as his control was slipping even further away, his cock aimed perfectly, fucking into you in exactly the right place over and over while the drag of him inside your tight heat forced sobs and gasps from both of you. In the state he had you, you knew you would do anything and everything he wanted and if you hadn’t been so light headed, you might have realised that that was exactly what he wanted. He grunts as he pulls you closer, angling your hips just so that he can fuck into you even deeper, your moans of satisfaction harmonising as somehow your pleasure grows stronger than you ever thought possible. 

“Has anyone fucked you like this since me, little lamb?” He is panting, hardly able to get his words out, somehow seeming more human even in the midst of his monstrous lust. 

“No,” you whine. There is no use denying it, because who could possibly compare to him?

“Bene,” he snarls, a possessive sneer crossing his face. “No one will ever, ever fuck you like me.’ You sob in agreement as the burn in your core grows, bringing you so close. Babbled nonsense falls from your lips. You can only hope he understands how little you need to push you over the edge. 

Thankfully something you said must have made sense, because in the next moment his thumb is stroking your clit in time with his ever more frantic thrusts and the wave of your climax begins to crash, sweeping you along in its powerful tide. Your vision greys at the edges and vaguely, somewhere amidst the buzz, you feel him reach his peak just behind you as his thrusts stutter before stilling as he fills you.

Inelegantly he pulls away, landing beside you on the bed. He pulls you to him stroking your hair and dotting your forehead with sweet kisses. Contentment surges through you as you rest against his chest, his lack of heartbeat barely registering. 

“You are so very sleepy, little lamb,” he breathes into your hair, and you can only spare a thought to agree as you succumb to the overwhelming pull of sleep. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cold and stale morning air lures you from your sleep this time, a much less pleasant awakening than your last. Your whole body aches as you shift and try to take in your surroundings. You are alone. The dawn light spilling through the drapes allows you to see, and the bedroom appears dusty and abandoned, not the cosy boudoir you had experienced last night. 

The dusty sheets cling to your clothes as you try to stand but every movement reveals a new bite mark or bruise until you are on your feet. The worst pain though, is the ache in your heart. This should have been expected and yet the fact that he isn't here hurts. Rather than satisfying you, this second encounter only made you yearn more for this terrible, mysterious man. Your only consolation was that now at least, you will have plenty more to write about. 

You don't try to call out to him, already knowing how futile that would be, so you look once more around the room, trying hard to commit it all to memory when the night stand catches your attention. A single white rose sits atop a folded piece of paper. You pick them both up, carefully making sure to avoid the sharp thorns and unfold the paper to see that unmistakable handwriting. 

We’re standing here by the abyss

And the world is in flames

Two star-crossed lovers reaching out

To the beast with many names 

He is

He’s the shining and the light without whom I cannot see

-iii

His words were cryptic as ever but you let it fill you with uncertain hope. Maybe you were the star-crossed lovers? Or maybe not. All you knew for now at least, was that you felt you were still at the very beginning of this story…

…and you couldn't wait to see where it would take you. 

[bell-of-indecision]

✨I ranked all the indian stuff I watched in 2023✨

For context, this July I finally gave in to my decade-old urge and dove head first into indian culture. It's been nothing short of phenomenal. The more people I meet, the more foods I try, the more music I listen to, the more Hindi I learn, the more I fall in love with India.

Although I became more of a TV serial person, eventually, I gave in to the movies as well.

So here's everything I watched, ranked from worst to best.

(I'm sorry in advance)

10. Yeh Jawaani Hai Deewani

This movie is useless, I'm so sorry. Somehow, it fooled me into thinking Naina was the main character, then the whole thing became about Bunny and I was so confused, who was I supposed to care about anyway? Can't complain though, Naina is a boring and uncharismatic cliché, I couldn't care less about her, had she disappeared midway into the story, I would've been thankful. Avi, Bunny, and Aditi, on the other hand, are loveable characters that deserved to be in a better movie — especially Aditi, I liked her so much. Too bad the movie seems to be about absolutely nothing. There was a message, I think, but it felt so shallow it didn't even matter to me, there was no actual relevance, no lesson, no impact, nothing. Maybe I'm stupid, but this movie is a drag. And the soundtrack SUCKS, Ilahi is the only good song in it.

2.8/10

9. Bhool Bhulaiyaa 2

The very first Bollywood movie I've ever watched. I wanted to like it so bad, it makes me sad that I didn't. Is it a comedy? A horror story? A dramatic murder mystery? Somehow, it's all of these and none at the same time, it can't decide on a tone to save its life, not even the humor can decide on what exactly it wants to be (most of it is just bad). The main couple has negative chemistry, their romance is so bland it's almost funny. Ruhan carries the whole movie on his back and is the only character with enough charisma to make me care, I honestly love this guy. His scene where he pretends to be possessed is incredible, and Tabu as Anjulika was great too. The plot twist was really nice, possibly the only good thing about the whole story, but then the movie ends so abruptly and on such a heavy note that it almost made me sick when the upbeat theme song started playing immediately after. This movie could not read the room, everything about it throws me off.

4/10

8. Jab We Met

Aditya is a dream, Geet is kind of a nightmare. I have nothing against characters that are lively, optimistic, and cheery, but they have to be bearable, she was just way too much for me. I loved Aditya's character development, it was fun and endearing to watch. The movie itself is not bad, just overrated. Nagada Nagada slaps though.

6/10

7. War

I wanted to love this movie just as much as it wanted to have a good twist. We both failed. Underestimating the audience's intelligence is one thing, but toying with us and making us feel like fools for the sake of a “big reveal” is something else. And no, it wasn't worth it. It wanted to be surprising, but it was just frustrating, shocking for all the wrong reasons. The action was fire though, no complaints there, and I loved the relationship dynamic between Kabir and Khalid, I would watch 11 seasons of those two going on missions with their team and fighting together, their chemistry is so good, I enjoyed every second of their scenes.

6.4/10

6. Arjun: The Warrior Prince

As a Mahabharat fan, I had hopes, but that's on me. Loved the way the story was presented to the audience, simple but brilliant. Shaheer Sheikh's Brihannala altered my brain chemistry, and I was elated to see her again. The animation was gorgeous, that goes without saying. I just hated how it ended right before the war, right where Arjun has some of his best moments, and hated even more how they practically erased Krishna from the story. At least they made him dark skinned this time.

6.7/10

5. My Name is Khan

Had this been based on a true story, I would've been the biggest fan of this movie to ever exist, I am a sucker for movies based on real life stories. Still, despite the disappointment of finding out this whole thing — as good as it was — was fictional, I see it as a touching, lovely, honest, and relevant story that kept me interested and broadened my horizons. Say whatever you want about allistic actors playing autistic characters, Shah Rukh Khan sold the heck out of this character and I bought it like the big neurodivergent fool that I am. I see a neurodivergent character onscreen, I am immediately on-board and loving them despite all their scripted flaws because “they're just like me fr”. "Marry me", indeed.

7/10

4. Rocky Aur Rani Kii Prem Kahaani

Is it innovative and groundbreaking? No, but it is so much fun. It's deep and honest enough, charismatic and funny enough, it's just good entertainment with a good message. I expected nothing to be honest, either way, the story just kept getting better? The dynamics kept getting deeper and more complex? Wait a minute, this was actually good! I went in for the soundtrack — I'm obssessed with Dhindhora Baje Re — but I stayed for everything else. I laughed out loud many times, I shed some tears, I rooted, man, this movie made me feel actual things! What a lovely surprise.

7.9/10

3. The Railway Men

I went into it with such high hopes. Some of them were met, but part of me was left unsatisfied. As I said before, real stories are my favorite, but the way this show was presented feels too much like fiction. Good fiction, but still. And I know it’s not fiction. I am aware that many creative liberties were taken, and I'm not against them, at all, but the thing is: I could see them, I knew they were there. When I watched HBO’s Chernobyl, I was fully convinced that everything that was presented in the show was reality, exactly how it had happened, and I doubted nothing. I was shocked when they revealed that Ulana Khomyuk was a character created to represent many scientists that were involved in the incident. I had eaten her up, and I still can't believe she wasn't a real person. The Railway Men feels like the opposite of this, most of it feels like a creative liberty, very little reads as a real event, a real interaction, or a real person. I doubted a lot of what I saw, and had to do some research to fully understand what exactly had been real. But like I said, it was still good. I found myself caring deeply for each and every character, no matter how minor, I deeply empathized with their pain, rooted for them, cried with them, cried for them. It's heartbreaking, gut wrenching, revolting, yet it still manages to be inspiring. Why I never learned about Bhopal before watching this show is beyond me, but at any rate, I will be recommending this show to everyone I know.

8.1/10

2. Brahmāstra: Part One – Shiva 

I will defend this movie's honor, I don't even care. I loved it so much that I made my mom watch it with me the next day, and she loved it. The dialogue is cringy, yes, unbearably so, some lines make my skin crawl. But COME ON, the plot is great, the concept is creative, the visual effects are wonderful, the soundtrack is divine —Mohan is dreamy— hear me out, I was hooked, on board, immersed, you name it. This movie made me feel so excited, I felt like a 7-year-old watching a super hero movie and wanting to have cool powers just like those, I honestly can't remember the last time a movie made me feel this energetic. Do I understand why Shiva and Isha were so deeply in love despite having met each other a week ago? No, but I was still rooting for them. Do I understand why sometimes people yell out the Astra’s powers in order to activate them like the Power Rangers? No, neither do I vibe with it, but do you think it mattered? The next moments were so freaking cool that I completely forgot what I wanted to complain about. (Oh, and Saurav Gurjar was in it! I gasped so loud when I saw him on screen, and playing a villain no less!) I was genuinely sad when it ended, I would've watched three more hours of that, despite the terribly written lines. I will fight for this movie and forgive every bad line of dialogue if it kills me.

8.7/10

1. Mahabharat (2013)

In case you haven't noticed, I am absolutely obssessed with Mahabharat. Initially, I’d decided to face the 267 episodes of this show because watching stuff in your target language is a good way to learn (also, that Krishna guy was very easy on the eyes, looking at him a bit more surely wouldn't hurt). It took me a few episodes to really get into the story, but once I did, oh boy, I was so hooked on the plot I even forgot about the language (although I did learn some words from it). The thing about this show, other than the freaking superb plot and phenomenal cast, are the characters. They all made me feel something. And that's the thing with characters, I believe, they don't necessarily have to be good or bad, morally speaking, they have to be well-written and entertaining, they have to make you feel things, positive or negative. Shakuni, a villain, was freaking great because of how good he was at being bad. And the good guys, like the Pandavas, weren't just good, that'd be boring, they were also charismatic, unique, funny, inspiring, and sometimes morally grey, which made them even more interesting, even more human. Watching them get in conflict with their morals when things got dark was insane. Even when they messed up —I'm looking at you Dharmraj— I still wanted to see them win. They felt like family, I watched them grow, I felt so close to them that their struggles and victories felt like my own. “My boys”, I call them. Mahabharat is my Roman Empire, man, I could talk about this show for HOURS. Anyway, this became my favorite show of all time and I'm so glad I didn't let the number of episodes scare me away. (And yes, I am still very much in love with Saurabh Raaj’s Krishna, he is probably one of my favorite characters ever, my heart raced when I first saw him and it still does to this day, BYE)

9/10

Oh, this ended up being a Top 10. Nice.

I both thank you and applaud you for reaching the end of this ramble that is ultimately just a result of my obsession with making lists and ranking literally everything. And also my admiration for indian culture.

I would've included Porus and Chandragupta Maurya but I'm not yet finished watching them, but I thought I should say: I am liking them a lot.

What do you people think I should watch next year? Recommendations are welcome!

✨🇮🇳 ✨

#i know this isn't twitter but still #don't come at me these are just my opinions #it's 4am lol #this took way too long #yeh jawaani hai deewani #war 2019 #bhool bhulaiyaa 2 #jab we met #my name is khan #mahabharat #rocky aur rani ki prem kahani #arjun the warrior prince #the railway men #netflix #bollywood #indian movies #indian tumblr #desi tumblr #desiblr #ranking #hrithik roshan #tiger shroff #shah rukh khan #deepika padukone #alia bhatt #ranbir kapoor #brahmastra #kareena kapoor #autistic characters #happy new year

[ikeromantic]

Hello!! Good day!!! im the one who request hc on how to boys ike vamp ( with theo, napoleon, comte, issac, mozart and arthur) or ike rev (with edgar, ray, lance, jonah, harr and sirius) react when they meet mc's parents and ask there daugther's hands to for marriage. if its ok? Sorry in advance if its handy a request and bad english.. thank u soooo much... ❤ 😶

This one took awhile! I hope it satisfies ^_^ Approx. 1600 words with the Ikevamp boys and how they react to meeting MC's parents/asking for her hand in marriage.

Theo

Theo glanced up as Arthur slid onto the bar stool beside him. “What?”

“Hey! Can’t a guy join his friend for an afternoon drink?” Arthur’s grin was wide and comically innocent. 

The ice in Theo’s eyes as he knocked back the rest of his whiskey was all the reply Doyle would get. Theo didn’t have the patience today to deal with jibes, good natured or otherwise. He motioned to the bartender for a refill.

“Not to be a buzzkill, old boy, but are you sure you should keep drinking? Aren’t you meeting with -”

“Shut up.” Theo spoke slowly, his voice flat and inflectionless. “Go away.” 

Arthur chuckled. “What a mood you’re in. Why . . . one might even mistake your churlishness for fear. Not me, of course. But someone could.”

Theo felt his teeth scrape as his jaw tightened. He didn’t need to justify himself. Not to Doyle. 

A few minutes of blessed silence passed when the bartender delivered their drinks. The whiskey burned down Theo’s throat and set coals ablaze in his belly. The familiar sensation didn’t come with the longed for release though. His shoulders were tense and his chest constricted. He sighed in defeat and stood. “Come on.”

Arthur got up and followed him out of the tavern. “If you’re wondering, they’re at the Louvre.”

“I know,” Theo straightened his shoulders. 

Arthur clapped him on the arm. “They’re going to adore you, old boy.”

Theo raised an eyebrow. 

“And if not, we’ll just throw Vincent at them and let him win them over with his innocent charm, right?” Arthur laughed. 

“Right.” Theo cracked his first smile of the night, some of his tension leaking out. “Move it, Doyle. We’re late.” 

His friend hurried after him, grinning. 

Napoleon

Napoleon wore a relaxed smile, confident his charm would win the day. He held his fiancée’s hand, sharing his certainty with her. Her fingers clutched his tightly. Across from them sat a forbidding man with an unreadable expression, and a woman with a strict face. 

If he had not known they were her mother and father, he never would have guessed. They had none of her sweetness, only a distant, hard affection that showed itself in the interrogation of their daughter. ‘How are you,’ they asked, before ‘Where have you been?’ and that was proof enough, even if there wasn’t the hint of a smile on either face.

They’d agreed not to mention time travel, or to say a word about who he really was. Meeting them like this, in a sidewalk cafe of modern day Paris, he understood why. There was no way her parents were fanciful enough to believe such a story, no matter how true it was.

After she introduced him and answered their rapid fire questions, both gazes turned to him. “It seems our daughter has grown close to you,” her father said, his eyebrow twitching slightly. “Thank you for keeping an eye on her for us.”

“You’re welcome, of course. It was nothing.” He squeezed her hand reassuringly beneath the table. “I look forward to caring for her for many years to come.”

The twitching eyebrow rose. “Unnecessary. We’ll be taking your leave this evening. It’s time for our little girl to come home.”

“Dad, No. I didn’t ask you to come see me so you could drag me back. I wanted you to meet Napoleone. Because I - I’m in love with him.”

Her mother shook her head, lips pressed together in a firm, thin line. “Of course you think that. Months of no real work, no responsibilities. Being romanced by some Frenchman. But my dear, you must come back to reality.”

“With all due respect, madame, your daughter has worked hard in her time here. And our relationship, though short, has been thoroughly tried. I love her.” He lifted his chin. “I would like to ask your blessing to marry her.”

“Why do you want to marry her? To what end?” Her father’s brows were lowered now, and he clenched his hand into a fist where it lay on the table.

Napoleon smiled and glanced at his beloved. His silly, precious nunuche. The woman that filled every day with her light. “It is my wish to love her alone, to make her happy, to do nothing which would contradict her wishes. This is my destiny and the meaning of my life.” 

Le Comte

“Monsieur, Mademoiselle, welcome!” Le Comte swept a polite bow as the curious couple passed the threshold. Their curious eyes took in the space, clearly overwhelmed. As well they should be.

The home and everything in it were purchased entirely for this meeting. Each detail calculated for impact, every impression accounted for. He would marry his cherie, and because it was important to her, he would have her parents’ approval. 

“Mom! Dad!” She hurried from the sitting room into the entrance hall and threw her arms around each of them. “I missed you so much!” 

They hugged her back, tears in their eyes. “We were so worried,” sighed her mother, voice thick with relief. 

She pulled them to the sitting room, apologies interspersed with an abridged narrative of her two months away from home. 

Le Comte followed, a wistful smile on his face. He could see his beauty reflected in the faces of her parents. Her father’s kind eyes and smiling mouth, her mother’s steely spirit and delicate brow. He felt almost as if he already knew them. 

They would say yes, he thought, and not because of his artful persuasion. They would let him marry their little girl because he brought her joy.

Isaac

“I don’t want to go.” Isaac knew he looked like a pouting child as he crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, but he didn’t care. 

“We can’t just leave my parents waiting for us at the cafe.” His fiancée sighed. Then she sat down across from him and leaned her head against the back of the chair.

He knew she was right, of course. They would have to go. It was just . . . in his mind’s eye, meeting her parents turned into a disaster in every instance he could imagine. He might say something that offended them. Or stumble over his words and sound like a fool. Or worse yet, find himself completely tongue-tied and unable to say a word, anything that might convince them to let him marry their daughter. Then what? 

“I . . . I don’t want to mess this up,” Isaac finally said, admitting to his worries aloud. “What if I say the wrong thing? Or nothing at all? Or what if I say all the right things and they don’t believe me?”

She tilted her head so that she could look him in the eye. “Do you think I will love you less if any of that happens?”

A slight flush rose in his cheeks as he shook his head. 

“Then the worst that could happen isn’t so bad, right?” She smiled. 

That smile reminded Isaac of all the stolen moments they’d shared. The quick kisses traded in passing. Little whispered promises. The long nights spent sweetly, mapping each others’ pleasures. All of that would still be there for them, no matter what happened today. “Alright. Let’s go then.”

Mozart

Mozart’s hand shook as he pulled his hair back into a queue. He examined his collar, the lay of his vest against his chest. He looked perfect. The exact image of a gentleman. Yet knowing that didn’t reassure him at all. 

“Your hair. It’s different.” Jean looked in on him, his one visible brow raised.

“Yes.” Mozart replied stiffly. 

Jean’s lips twitched into a small smile. “It looks very good.”

“Well . . . let’s go. They’re waiting.” He felt slightly better for the compliment but his nerves were still jangling, his shoulders tight. The only relief would be getting it over with.

The two men made their way to the parlor. At the door, Mozart paused. Jean set his hand on his shoulder, and together, they shared a breath. Then Mozart pushed the door open.

“Wolf!” His lover’s smile washed away his anxiety as the summer sun chased away the gloom of a storm. “This is my mother,” she gestured to a woman who’s resemblance to her was clear. “And my father.” The man stood and held out his hand.

Mozart took a breath and with a smile, introduced himself. He shook hands with the father of his beloved, and felt not a twinge of his usual disgust as that hand enveloped his own. Though they’d only just met, he felt connected to them. As if they were . . . family. 

Arthur

Arthur stubbed out the hand-rolled cigarette. He wasn’t normally a smoker, but he’d needed something - anything - to steady his nerves. To quiet the voice in the back of his mind that kept insisting he wasn’t good enough. It didn’t matter, he told himself, because she’d chosen him. She loved him. 

The balcony door swung open and Sebas poked his head out. “They’re waiting for you in the parlor, if you’re ready.” 

“Of course I’m ready.” He pushed off the rail. Arthur adjusted his jacket and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing to it, right? Just going to tell the skirt’s parents I’m marrying her and that’s . . . that. Right?”

“Right,” Sebas nodded with the hint of a smile. “But maybe, don’t call her a skirt in there.”

“Yeah. Yes. Right.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t suppose we could knock back a drink or two first?”

“Not a good idea, sir.” Sebastian held the door as he came through it. 

Arthur nodded. “You’re right, old boy. Let’s just . . . get this over with.” He straightened his back and squared his shoulders like a man headed into battle.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp theo #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp le comte #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp mozart #ikevamp arthur #ask box reply #fanfiction #fanfic #otome #otome guys #fluff

[gerdy-sertorius]

For They Know Not What They Do

The Story that is Christianity

Many have written pages on pages on pages of how to understand Christianity. Two of my favorite books of all time, “Mere Christianity” and “Orthodoxy”, both approach the issue of what the core of Christianity is for the layman. The intellectual (or perhaps a more accurate term would be “armchair theologian”) has even more access to works ascertaining precisely what Christianity is. I would say that is a fantastic way of getting to know our place within the world and our relationship with the God that ensures every atom moves properly. I also tend to view these works, seminal as they may be, as incomplete. But I suppose they aren’t trying to be complete, really. That’s because they are only building upon a completed text, of course, one they can hardly re-establish while remaining true to it and simultaneously expanding. They aren’t going to have the spark of the original.

But that’s not my problem with the modern discourse around Christianity. I understand that they lack the spark of the original. When dealing with direct divine inspiration, I would imagine that tends to happen. My problem is that, beyond lacking the spark of the original, it doesn’t even try to come close, it doesn’t *search* for that spark. There is nothing ventured back to the original composition except as intellectual evidence for a broader thesis. That is, the Gospel, the single most important piece of literature in history, is no longer a piece of literature but a manuscript. Because the core of Christianity is not praxis or hermeneutics or any other ten dollar word. It was passed from carpenter to fishermen. Christianity is, with all else stripped away like chaff in the wind, a Story. 

It is a Story of love and betrayal. It is a Story about good vanquishing evil. It is a Story of a Bridegroom united with His Bride, finally redeemed after constant failure and everlasting patience. It is a Story of a Father and Son, and how they, despite the pervasiveness of wickedness, would save the world from itself. It is a Story of love and the sacrifice that would naturally pour out from that love. It is a Story of undeserved grace by one party and an undeserved outburst of fury on the part of the other. It is, as odd as it is to say it, a grand Romance, one that spans across the entire history of man and especially the history of one Man in particular. It is a Story.

And like all stories, this one has a beginning. In fact, it has something before the beginning, before the very concept of time. It has a God, triune in nature, omnipotent and wholly benevolent. Now, this God is a creative God, and as such shapes the world. He forms what would become reality, all the laws of nature and mathematics, the ideas of time, of space, of matter itself, ex nihilo. He makes light and life, seas and earth and celestial bodies, animals and plants in an explosion of what can only be described as art. And He makes man, defined to be with a soul, in the imago Dei, His very image, capable of creation, capable of love, capable of making a sincere decision. The crown of what exists.

And with that, the very next day He rests, surveying His creation. He has done a good work, shrouding the world in the radiant light that He is. He has made something that continues on its own in a way, yet in another way is still eternally dependent upon Him for every action, every movement, every moment in time. Something has been created and with that beauty arises where there was none before. There is a completion to what was to be done, man being what was finally needed for the world to be properly finished. He loves the world, and He loves man. And so He rests. 

After that, He graces us with something magical. You want to know what was the first thing He gave man beyond the very life we hold so closely? The concept of romance, of marriage. Of giving one’s life over to another, of being able to truly understand another individual in a way that nobody else can. Of living your life for someone other than yourself, of being, in a way, one with another individual, fully free and without fear or reservation, only sheer, insurmountable love. It is the closest thing that we have to a relationship with Him with another individual. It is the epitome of a relationship among us, one that if we are lucky enough to have it, is the most beautiful thing we can have within the confines of this world. And He gave it to us because He loves man. 

And man loves Him, the only creature able to love establishing their love first and foremost. God created a garden, one in which it is declared that He walked with man. At every point man was covered by who God was, engaging with Him and with each other in the beauty of merely being able to speak, to talk, to be in conversation with the being behind everything that happens at any point in time, to talk to someone unimaginably beyond the world yet still willing to interact with it, with His greatest creation. And He offers but one demand – do not eat from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. 

And, of course, they do so anyway and as such are blemished by sin and therefore must be driven out of the garden, out of the sight of the God that loves them so much. With the knowledge of what evil is, evil becomes an everyday occurrence rather than the quite literally unthinkable action that it was within the garden. Their love for God is tarnished like silver being exposed to oxygen. It is still silver, no doubt, but it is difficult to tell that it was the same thing as the genuine article, and while the value inherent within it will still be present (the silver atoms aren’t leaving anytime soon), it would require the level of atomic precision to return it to its original form, something we are entirely incapable of doing. 

With that, God can no longer speak with them, walk with them, be with them in the same way He used to. For sin cannot exist within the sight of God, the idea is a logical impossibility. Just as matter and antimatter cannot coexist within any one location, neither can the absence of God and the presence of God. There’s one theory that the reason God was no longer able to be in the physical presence of humanity is because the sinful nature of ourselves would quite literally destroy our very personages if exposed to the sheer holiness that is Him. I don’t know if it’s true or not, and it is impossible to know, but it sure does preach well. 

Most of the remainder of the Old Testament squarely places a focus on the Jews. For his devotion to God, Abraham was given an assurance that his descendants would be specially protected by God as long as they remained faithful, and as such the Jews became the “Chosen People”. This assurance is referred to as the Abrahamic Covenant. They were gifted with the Law, which essentially was a document of divine nature that established what they could and could not do as a nation. One of the most important parts both for their society and Christianity wholesale was that of animal sacrifice, something both commonplace and unique among the Jews. Rather than in other societies, where an animal sacrifice was there to satisfy the gods and not much more, the Jews symbolically placed their sins upon the blood of a pure white lamb and then killed it as a symbol of repentance (where we get the term ‘scapegoat’ from). And if they continued to abide by that Abrahamic Covenant and showed a dedication to faithfulness, then God would accept that symbol.

Throughout the Old Testament, an intriguing turn of events would begin to rear its head – they did not remain faithful. Throughout the history of Israel, the Jews would remain stubbornly in a constant flux between faithfulness and the complete denial of basic morality. Many times they would clean up their act, so to speak, and less than a decade later fall into depravity. The majority of the Old Testament is them doing terrible stuff, getting punished, getting better, and then returning to exactly what they were doing before. As it can be understood, for a society solely existing due to God’s special favor, this was less than heartening. I want to take what may seem like a sharp turn into one of the more overlooked books of the Bible, one of the (very many) stories about a prophet attempting to bring Israel back to God and one of my favorites. 

The Book of Hosea, at least the beginning of it, is a love story between a man and his wife. Throughout the section you find this book in, it is filled with books that essentially amount to a whole bunch of sermons being combined. This is not that. This is a genuinely beautiful story, this is something that I would want to read, this is *real*. And it may well be the best summation of the Old Testament in the entire Bible. This is exactly what I was searching for with the rest of my readings, something that so perfectly encapsulates the relationship between God and those who He loves. 

Hosea was a prophet, someone who was given direction from God to return Israel to its worship of Him. Many had come before him, many would come after him. One could even say that his actions were entirely futile. But he had a calling, despite the truly unrepentant nature of Israel, and he was not exactly going to tell God of all people “no” – that was the very thing he hated so much about the society he found himself in. So he decided to follow that calling, becoming the newest prophet of Israel. 

With that came instruction from God. He was to take a certain individual as his wife, one by the name of Gomer. She was a prostitute, and more or less written off when it came to marital prospects, perhaps understandably so. But Hosea was commanded to do so, and as such took her as his wife. And Hosea took care of her, fully and totally, as a husband should, providing for her economically, emotionally, generally being an all around good husband. Why? Simply because he loved her. He loved Gomer more than anyone else within the world. Certainly more than anyone else would within the nation, what with all of the social devastation from her peers of both sexes. 

And as I’m sure you can tell, the infidelity continued throughout the marriage. Constant heartbreak on the part of Hosea, who loved his wife, with the constant rejection of the wife incapable of loving him. Yet Hosea did not cease loving her. Even when the provisions he offered to her went to those she would cheat with him on, Hosea did not cease providing for her, something that was well outside of the norm within society, when at the very least divorce was the status quo. Hosea was continuously loving his wife, and he was continuously being emotionally destroyed by her. One day, Gomer disappeared for longer than she usually did. Hosea went looking for her, and found that she was being sold into what amounted to sex slavery. And once again, against *all of the* standards of the time, he went and gathered together a small fortune to purchase her and free her. And why was that? *Because he loved her.* And the absolute kicker is, there is no record of her ever stopping her activities. Despite all of his love for her, despite everything he gave up emotionally and physically for their marriage, she would always let him down. It was her nature. To fail and hurt in the process but to always be able to return to one who would always love her, it’s heartbreaking in its tragedy. 

It’s not difficult to see the allegory between this and Israel’s repeated falls from the graces of God. A nation chosen by God in particular, one that is provided for and taken care of more than any else in the world, one he frees from backbreaking slavery, one he offers bountiful land to despite everything. A nation that is truly blessed among all others. It of all countries should be one not to turn away from the path that has been consistently positively reinforced and consistently negatively punished. Yet it still does. Because men loved darkness rather than light. Because the love offered towards us is something they took for granted. Because it is our nature to spurn that love. 

Yet there would be one moment to establish that love forever in the eyes of God, and it began with one man, by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the King of the Jews. The humiliation of the Incarnation is something that deserves to be talked more about. God becoming man and all the wonder inherent in that is highlighted in various Christmas events and the like, but it rarely goes anywhere beyond the surface level. Another way to say it would be that the substance is highlighted, but oddly enough not the sacrifice of the thing that would eventually become Calvary. For in the Incarnation was the stripping down of Christ long before His arrest. Taken from the omnipotence of Godhood to the inability of a child, forced to flee to Egypt just so He wouldn’t be killed before He turned three years old. Losing omniscience for the insight of an infant, losing omnipotence for the physical ability of a baby. The Incarnation was the deliberate elimination of anything especially divine He had, with the sole exception of his relationship with his Father. It is hard to overstate exactly how drastic a change like this was. Imagine losing any and all sensation, sight, sound, smell, taste, touch, all at once, and then entering into the world and being told to go out and live, get stuff done, have a proper life. The thought is quite frankly absurd. 

Yet all of this and more was suffered for love. For the chance to live as a person to save all people. For the beauty in finally freeing mankind from our nature of destruction to all we come in contact with. For love. Love for us, broken and fallen as we may be, entirely covered in the ink that obscures what we could be from what we are. The entrance of Christ alone into the world is a sacrifice for our sin, and it would not be the last, as I’m sure you are aware. Everything, absolutely everything orchestrated throughout the Old Testament lines up towards this moment. Everything evil and redeemed and evil and redeemed and evil and redeemed, fluctuating back and forth and forth and back for a purpose, for the ultimate evil and the ultimate redemption. All that was needed was for that very redemption to enter the world. And so He did, incapable of speaking, incapable of walking, incapable of bending the entire cosmos to Himself with one thought. The birth of Christ to Mary was, in essence, His first death. 

Jesus Christ had lived life as a man among men, with one exception. He had never sinned, not once. The evil that had plagued humanity as a whole was absent from Him, not a speckle on His fleece, for the entirety of His life. All of the absurd wickedness, every disgusting thing mankind suffers from, it was all gone from His personage. He was, morally speaking, perfection. And with that perfection comes something important. With that truly pure fleece, He was able to be a sacrifice that was more than symbolic. No longer would man slaughter a lamb, a symbol of sin, and obtain a symbol of repentance. Instead, man would commit the ultimate sin and slaughter The Lamb, The Son sent among them, and with The Son's sacrifice gain the possibility of True Repentance.

Eventually, He would begin to teach. A message of adhering to the spirit rather than the letter of the Law, which Israel was just beginning to follow. He taught forgiveness beyond what the Law said, commitment to marriage beyond what the Law said, being willing to help the fellow man beyond what the Law said. He did not supersede the Law, but He was the completion of it. Everything the Law said, He went beyond, not because He added to it, but because He fulfilled it. Everything He said was the intention of that Law, the meaning of it that had been lost to tradition for centuries. Israel had finally established a dedication to the Law and Jesus swept that rug from underneath their feet. It was the acceptance of the thought that went behind the Law rather than exactly what it said. 

And yet the position was unpopular with the people whose opinions on the subject mattered. The local Jewish ruling classes were quite comfortable with the acceptance of established law and tradition, leaving the more learned and established classes at the top. The local Roman ruling classes were quite comfortable without more religious zealotry breaking out in an area known for it. The idea of expanding upon existing Law and riling up support for and against it in an endless cycle of polarization was not in either of their interests. Yet the movement continued to grow, and it increasingly became an elephant in the room when it came to politics within the area. With that, quite reasonably, the decision was made to kill Jesus on charges of sacrilege. 

While they were taking such an action, Jesus was doing something entirely different. He was preparing Himself. He went over to a garden and began to pray, to beg, to plead for any other option. He did not want to die, He was genuinely scared of the suffering that would await Him. He sweated drops of blood throughout his prayer, such was the fear that took hold of Him. He was in agony. There was nothing He wanted less than to die an excruciatingly painful death. Yet He declares that it is His duty, that He must accept death. And that is what He does. The Romans and Jews arrive to take Him away. He does not resist. 

They brought Him before the Romans, because they, as rulers of the area, were the only ones who could prescribe capital punishment legally. There was an issue, however – nothing within Roman law actually enabled them to kill an individual for blasphemy against a god not recognized by Rome at all. So they simply decided to go with charges of treason. A similar issue arose – there was basically no evidence for a statement like that. So the governor of the region more or less tried to weasel his way out of it. He summoned Jesus, desperate for any sort of denial that would allow him to say there wasn’t enough evidence. Jesus, for his part, was cryptic, of absolutely zero help to the governor, Himself, or anyone, really. 

The governor called for something, anything to assuage the crowd from a death penalty with no evidence, something guaranteed to look bad to his higher-ups. Bargaining – citing a Jewish holiday about to come up, he offered a choice between two prisoners to be freed – Jesus or a murderous thief. Those who were present for the choice, a mob at this point, called for the freedom of the murderer. The crowd did not yield. Humiliation – a beating, fine clothes, a scepter and a crown of thorns. The crowd did not yield. A “lesser” punishment than execution – nine and twenty lashes from a cat o’ nine tails, each tail burying itself in muscle rather than skin and more or less skinning Him alive, with immeasurable pain coursing through every single second of trauma to his rapidly shrinking back. For some point of reference, the standard death penalty within the region was thirty lashes from this very whip. The crowd. did. not. yield. There would be no option other than crucifixion. They would never be content with anything else. And so the order went. 

In the most damning moment in the history of humanity, we determined we would commit Deicide. And the deed was done. Christ, God Himself on the earth, innocent in the truest sense of the word, slowly dragged His own cross through the streets of Jerusalem towards a hill called Calvary, where He would meet death. He stumbled, weak from blood loss and unable to continue to carry anything, let alone a cross. The pinnacle of mankind, brought down to being no more capable of preaching than a corpse like any other; He was thirty-three years old. And behind Him followed the very crowd that put Him to death, some jeering, some disgusted by He who would attempt to destroy Judaism, some even weeping over the demise that they themselves caused, any semblance of righteous fury gone from their eyes. 

Eventually the procession was able to make it to Calvary, at which point the crucifixion began. There are two tangentially important facts about crucifixion as a means of execution. The first is that Jewish Law states that any who die by being hanged on a tree have been cursed by God. It was considered that anyone who goes through that was abandoned by God, and it’s a generally bad omen. The second fact, somewhat more well-known, is that “crucifixion” is the root of the word “excruciating”. Crucifixion was not the means of execution generally used; it was always used in cases where an example was going to be made, due to its incredible cruelty as an execution device and its incredibly public location.

A brief overview of how exactly an individual dies would begin with both arms secured in place to the cross with nails, hammered into the wrist between the radius and ulna and directly through the median nerve. This would leave the body hanging from the overextended arms, which, apart from the immense pain such a position provides, physiologically makes it impossible to inhale. That’s where the legs being kept in place (with rope or nails) would come in, pushing the body up whenever oxygen was needed, and allowing the diaphragm to do its job. This had the added effect of causing even more pain from the scraping of the oft-scourged back against the rough wood of the cross. The process would continue until either the victim would die of asphyxiation due to exhaustion of the legs or until their legs were broken, making them incapable of continuing breathing. In total, time to die was varied but could last up to several days.

As the nails hammer into the flesh of Jesus Christ, He does not resist. As He is hoisted into an upright position as the death knell tolls and His minutes upon the earth begin counting down, He does not resist. As an innocent man being killed for a crime He did not commit, He does not resist. He is simply a Lamb walking quietly to the slaughter. The cross is beyond painful, there is nothing that could have prepared Him for such physical torture. But He does not resist. He shouts out the opening line to a song He knows well: “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” He does not believe He has been abandoned by God, but in the moment, it certainly feels that way. It is hard to think of anything outside the pain of the moment. 

Voices resound around the crowd watching Him. Cries taunting Him to save Himself if He could supposedly save so many others. The apparent desecration of God is unthinkable within Jewish culture, no god of theirs could die like that. And so, in their denial of such a concept, they desecrated the only God they could ever have laid their eyes upon, the only God they ever could have spoken to, the only God who lived among them, who ate and talked and laughed among them. The Human God and the Divine Man, being scourged, crucified, abused with all manner of insults. He does not resist. The only thing He offers up out of His battered, gasping chest is a plea, not even to them: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” 

While I may have offered the Book of Hosea as the clearest summation of the Old Testament, those ten words are the clearest summation of the New. For despite everything, all of the suffering that we placed upon each other, for all of our sins, for everything. For the very execution of the only perfect man to ever live, for the very execution of the God who knows and loves every single individual, we are forgiven. Yes, it is in our nature to betray that love constantly, it is in our nature to harm everyone we come in contact with, it is in our nature to hate and kill and lie. But we are forgiven regardless. 

Jesus Christ makes one final shout to His Father, a proclamation that He is coming, if you will, and dies, the last breath of oxygen leaving His lungs long before the expected time of death. And in that moment, everything changes. The scapegoat is slaughtered. All the sins of mankind, past, present, and future, are placed upon His shoulders in a horrific mask of wickedness. Mankind has had their own sins cleansed in the greatest show of love possible, the brutal self-sacrifice required to keep all of us away from the fruits of our own actions. With Jesus shrouded in the infinite sins of humanity, God is unable to even look at His own dying Son, forced to turn His face away from the evil that has subsumed Him. Even the fury that would have been leveled at the crucifixion is placed on no other shoulders than the victim of it. We as a collective have, through the most heinous act in history, been redeemed of our heinous acts.

The eternal salvation of mankind is not the only thing that happens. The sky goes black instantly. Tremors begin to shake the earth and thunder shakes the skies. Dead men stand up and begin to walk, reunited with their family in a way that the Christ who just died could not be, carrying the sins of man and unable to stand within the presence of God. And within the temple, something curious happens. The veil that blocked the room to where the Jews believed the physical presence of God resided was torn asunder. No longer is man forced to use a proxy to commune with God, no longer is man separated from the One who loves them so much. Mankind, it could be said, is back in Eden, back before everything started. 

Jesus died quickly, so unlike those beside Him who had their legs broken, there was yea, a spear piercing His heart also. He was taken down from the cross and buried in an actual tomb, courtesy of a rich follower. Several days passed, and on Easter, the tomb was found by a contingent of women to be empty with the exception of burial wrappings, much to their eternal surprise. Despite the remainder of Jesus’s followers remaining in a combination of shock and depression, they too eventually made their way to the tomb and found it empty as described. It was empty.

At the crucifixion, at the condemnation of God to death and His willingness to do that for humanity, the devil rejoiced. In God’s love for us, He did exactly what the devil wanted. To remove Himself from the picture, to call for the death of Himself. But there was something that a created being like the devil could never understand. For death was artificial. It was not in the original world, it was not inherent to life, as much as it might seem otherwise. Death was a consequence of man’s sin, and while that sin was upon Christ, His death had washed it away. In one glorious, triumphant moment, the enemy of man for so long, death itself, was defeated by Jesus Christ of Nazareth, the Son of God. 

For God was not constrained by institutions that only exist as a consequence of evil. He was the one who established those institutions, and in the death of Christ, He could overthrow those institutions while simultaneously ending mankind’s eternal culpability for sin. And so Christ erupted out of the grave, and with it the grave ended. Death, the bitter rival of humanity from the beginning of time, was never going to have an impact again. For love, God died an excruciating death. For love, God refused to die. For love, we have been saved by Him. 

The most common analogy offered by Jesus between Him and those who follow Him is that of the Bridegroom and the Bride, each desperately in love with the other, each willing to give everything for the sake of the other. We can never be the perfect Bride, that much has been made clear. But in the eyes of the perfect Bridegroom, we’ve already been made perfect. No matter how much evil we purvey, no matter how broken of an individual we are, we are made perfect in the cleansing blood spilled from the sacrifice of the Lamb. All the grime that is us, every evil action we take, it has all been scrubbed clean off. For love. 

#jesus christ #christianity #salvation #jesus #faith #god #something i feel has been lacking is the beauty that is the christian story #there's a reason the christological allegory is such an important and widely used trope #and that's because the story itself is beautiful

[free-for-all-fics]

Random thoughts and prompts/Ideas for Gold Watchers from Dark Deception because I love these video game enemies and the level setting and I think they’re underrated. I wish there was more fics for them. Pls tag me if you write anything inspired by these 💜

1. Since all the Gold Watchers in Deadly Decadence are men, what if there was a lady/female gold statue among them in the manor? A beautiful golden noblewoman who wears the most magnificent gowns and opulent jewelry fit for a princess or higher status. Maybe the Gold Watchers take turns to share in her love and attentions like a poly romantic relationship sorta? Maybe she’d participate in their sadistic games of murder or gleeful axe swinging? But perhaps she’d use a different kind of blade, like a sword or daggers? I dunno! I’ve just been thinking about this since discovering the game. In the update, it’s shown that the gold watchers keep creating more of themselves and there’s a giant Titan watcher outside too. So what if it was like a weird Frankenstein type thing where they created a woman? (Sort of inspired by fanart I saw of a character called Duchess Rose-Mary)

2. Dark beauty and the beast type situation but instead it’s reader being held captive in the Deadly Decadence manor by the gold watchers who are obsessively in love with her, in part because she’s so beautiful and they don’t think mere mortals deserve to behold her. They keep killing mortals who enter the manor and there’s the giant Titan Watcher outside too so any chance of rescue or escape is slim to none.

3. “The real treasure is the friends you made along the way” The scroll reads. You grumble and turn to show the rest of your team only to find they’ve all been turned into statues of gold.

4. “Do I look like I’m made of money?”

“….. Have you looked in a mirror? You’re a SOLID GOLD talking statue!”

5. The golden statue had seen wars, romance, famine, and wealth. It had always been content with its lot in life, unmoving and hard. However, now, a flower bloomed but a step away, and it wanted nothing more than to touch that flower and experience its gentle beauty for itself. (Perhaps the “flower” is the reader? Or could be a literal flower)

6. A weird statue shows up in the local museum. The inscriptions found with it translate to, “Maddened by greed, we sealed him. Be warned, he will awaken to kill you.”

7. When the palace was cursed, everyone began to turn to gold. To save you, they gave you the elixir of immortality. After watching the kingdom fall to ruin, you wander the palace alone. Guarding your true love’s statue from the elements and anyone who trespasses to find immortality or steal the soul shards.

8. A statue falls in love with a girl he cannot speak to.

9. You were born with literal components of figurative idioms - a silver tongue, a heart of gold, nerves of steel, an iron stomach, green thumbs, etc. You’re on the search to find the source of your affliction and the reason why it happened.

10. Midas sobbed as he clung to his wife, now transformed into gold. Then she embraced him back. “I’m sorry, my love. Gold is a little harder to move than flesh, but I figured it out.”

11. “Just because I turned her to gold doesn’t mean I can change her back. If I could, then I could turn ANY gold into her, and that would be infinitely more tragic.”

12. People always said you had a heart of gold. Today the doctors confirmed that this is literally the case. They weren’t sure how it happened but they’re pretty sure it’s terminal.

13. While preparing dinner, your new partner cuts themself on a kitchen knife. Their blood drips gold.

14. You have the breathtaking power to turn anything you touch into pure gold. The only requirement to succeed doing so is that you need to hold your breath until the transformation is complete. If your ability is ever interrupted, you slowly start turning into gold yourself.

15. She was cursed to laugh silver and weep gold, so that her sorrow would always be worth more than her joy.

16. Your baby is born with golden eyes. Everyone tells you to kill it, but you refuse. Everyone avoids you and your family. It isn’t until today you find out why everyone is so terrified.

17. Within decrepit halls of the golden castle walls, you find yourself nearing the treasure room. All that pain, that struggle, all that loss - finally going to be worth something. In the doorway you stand tall, only to find a room full of nothing. The room is completely whitewashed.

18. You have the golden touch, but instead it turns gold things into human flesh.

#dark deception #gold watchers #gold watchers x reader #gold watcher x reader #deadly decadence #fic ideas #random fic ideas #I can’t take all the credit I got most of these from Reddit

[whatisreggieshortfor]

You Didn’t

Inspired by You Didn’t by Brett Young

Bobby x MC (one sided), Henrik x MC

Bobby knew he and Ryan weren’t going to be the true love couple to end the show. No matter how much he wished they could be, they were a friendship couple. She had told him herself she didn’t feel that spark with him- he was the safest option after Rocco used her.

And it hadn’t helped that the other girls ignored the only spark she’d gotten and sent Henrik home.

Bobby hadn’t been coupled with her then, but he wasn’t blind. She lived in the jungle for work- of course she got along with the resident wild man. But it had been more than that, they could all see it. Henrik had put her at an ease none of them could, he understood the things she experienced on her conservation missions and they bonded over their love for the wilderness. Nobody else could bond with either of them that way, growing up in cities and having the jobs they did made it hard beyond just imagining it.

But then her sole connection to someone else was shattered when the other girls voted him out, and Bobby knew why they did it. It wasn’t purely that they liked Lucas. It was because they all knew that each of the guys- even one as committed as Noah- had Ryan somewhere in their sights. They hurt her because their guys weren’t a hundred percent in.

So Ryan chose Bobby. Not in a romantic capacity, but to keep whatever peace she could.

He tried, in vain, throughout the days to get her to see him differently, in subtle ways. Bobby didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, so when she obviously wasn’t reciprocating beyond platonic affection, he accepted that.

Even if he’d fallen in love.

He watched her go off to Casa Amor, Lucas having chosen her the night before even though his heart wasn’t in it.

When she came back single, Bobby wasn’t the least bit surprised. Of course they didn’t have anyone that could compare to the blonde Swede. In the Villa or in Casa Amor.

When she had to save someone, the stress of the decision was all over her face. It was easy to know who the others would pick- Bobby would pick Hope while Lottie picked Noah, keep the fairytale romance alive the best they could. Gary would pick Chelsea, even if they weren’t going to last he didn’t fancy Priya or Blake enough to choose them over her. Which left Ryan with Lucas, Jakub, and Elijah. Lucas, who found someone he had a connection with. Jakub, who hadn’t waited a day after they left to jump into bed with someone else. Elijah, who only seemed to have eyes for Chelsea.

In the end she chose Elijah, but she was up front about only being friends.

Bobby was accepting when she needed another friendship couple, Elijah wanting to give Chelsea another shot when Gary chose Lottie.

Then Ryan and Gary were chosen for dates.

And when she walked back in with a very familiar blonde holding her hand?

Bobby knew what he needed to do.

So he encouraged her to chase him, no matter how much she argued about how she couldn’t leave him now- the what if of no one else choosing him. She’d always been too loyal.

Bobby shook her argument away, “You ain't done nothing wrong, Lass. I'm not where you belong, but don’t cry. You think it's your fault, but it isn't.”

He watched her at the fire pit for the last recoupling, her fingers anxiously twisting around each other. And then her phone went off. Standing, her eyes shot to him first and he instinctively gave her a nod, she needed to make the best choice for her.

But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt him, even with the smile on his face, as she said the words, “The boy I want to couple with is…Henrik.”

Bobby didn’t let his smile falter, shooting her a thumbs up as one thought went through his head,

‘Its okay. I fell in love, and you didn’t.’

#litg #litg season 2 #litg bobby #litg henrik x mc #litg henrik #one sided attraction #one sided crush #one sided feelings

[splendidissimus]

1 July 1997 - Welcome to the Death Eaters

((Content warning: homophobia, bullying))

((Promptspiration: @whumptober 2023: day 8: Outnumbered / "It's all for nothing." ))

((in this world, "fairy" is a Mudblood / N-word level slur for gay men, based on its already slurry nature, plus the fact that the wizarding world actually know fairies, and consider them vain, stupid little things useful only for decoration))

Genre: whump

Romance level: none

Angst level: 4/5

Draco's headspace: defiant / "normal" -> despair

((words: ~1400))

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

"Lucius, it's time to have in an exterminator," Rodolphus called as Draco entered the room. "The fairies are getting in the house." He and his brother both guffawed, Nott chuckled from the background, and Travers gave an unpleasant leer. Draco's father glanced over from the fireplace blankly; he was closer than he had been last night, but he still didn't look himself. 

Draco clenched a fist by his leg. He didn't even remember, exactly, why they were saying that — his memory of the previous night once the Cruciatus started was garbled and unclear — but when he heard those words out of that mouth he had a crystal clear flash of memory, hearing Rodolphus exclaim 'I knew it, the Malfoy boy's a fucking fairy!' to that same laughter. What right did he have—

"Don't speak to me like that," he said coldly, and crossed toward the table with the tea tray. 

Rodolphus stood up to intercept him, Rabastan leaning forward on his elbow, and Bellatrix picked up a scone on her dagger while watching with distant amusement. Azkaban, especially only a year stint this time, hadn't been as cruel to Rodolphus as it had to his father. He was thin but solid, not wasted but tempered into something hard, and he had that deranged edge about him that many of the longterm inmates sported.

"Oh, you've got brave this morning." He had a grin that looked like he was about to bite. "Or you'll do what? Cry for your mummy again?" 

Draco clenched his jaw in embarrassment. That was it, he'd begged for her under the curse. As though the other Death Eaters witnessing him under the Cruciatus wasn't enough… as though them seeing his father curse him wasn't humiliating enough… He was never going to live that down. 

"I've the same mark you have," he said, forcing flatness into it, focusing on that and not showing the embarrassment. "I've proven myself." Against all odds, he'd done what he had to do, borne what he had to, and he'd bought his way into this group with the lives of Dumbledore and anyone else who hadn't made it through the night at the school… These were his people, no matter what, now, and it was time to take his place among them. "We're equals."

Rabastan spat on the floor, Travers' chair scraped on the marble tiles as he stood, and Rodolphus took a step forward. Draco tried to stand his ground, but the sheer difference in their build meant he either had to step back or be shoved, and he couldn't help it. 

"Don't ever let me hear that out of your mouth again, boy," Rodolphus spat, and Draco bristled, because he was seventeen, he was an adult, not a boy, and these dismissive, brutish— "The Dark Lord might let you take out his rubbish and kiss his boots, but none of you poncy, coward fucks—" He swept a sharp finger over the room, including Draco, his father, and even Nott, who had also avoided Azkaban after the first war. "—deserve to even look on him. We were loyal. I'm not going to be told that that's equal to a little sissy—"

"Stop calling me that," Draco snapped. 

"All right, stop it, gents," Nott scoffed. "You're hurting his feelings." Most of the others laughed.

"What is even the point of mocking someone for something that isn't true?" 

"Really?" Bellatrix spoke up with a languid grin in the background. "I've been all up and down your pretty little mind, and I certainly don't recall running across any embarrassing thoughts about girls…" 

That did make every man in the room laugh at him, except his father, who was looking distantly into a painting and contributing nothing. 

His hand clenched helplessly. She was conveniently leaving out that he'd barely been sixteen when she was teaching him Occlumency, and it wasn't like she'd found those kinds of thoughts about guys, either.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that it wasn't true, it was just a way to turn him into an object of ridicule. Like how she belittled his father for being soft, how they made his mother play gracious hostess when she hated entertaining. It didn't matter that it wasn't true, it was just a way to mock them and make them lesser. And Draco shouldn't have to be told not to argue with those kinds of insults; if he were on the other end, any argument would be evidence of an opening to dig into all the harder. 

There was nothing he could do there, he realised. Nothing he could do or say would end in anything other than mockery. There was no way to snatch back any amount of pride or belonging. He turned away to leave the room, followed by Travers jeering "Flutter away, little fairy," and more laughter at his expense. He crossed the hall to the front parlour instead and stood looking out the bay window over the overgrown garden.

It wasn't supposed to be like this!

He'd done it. He'd done what he had to do, he'd proved he belonged here. For what? 

Well, no… He knew for what. He was alive. His parents were alive, and they were all back together again. If he hadn't done what he did… How much of that would be true? Would any of them be alive? 

But he'd thought it would be over. Dumbledore was dead, it should be over… He'd never looked further ahead than that, and now he knew why. It didn't end. If he thought that as soon as Dumbledore was dead, the Dark Lord would welcome him with open arms, take his family back… stop threatening them… 

Maybe if he'd actually killed him. Maybe then… but he was so fucking weak… He couldn't do it even when he knew he'd be killed if he didn't, and what did that say about him? One fucking spell, and he couldn't do it! And they all knew it. He couldn't even hide it. He couldn't even pretend.

He was lucky he was alive. He had to admit that — to escape last night's homecoming with only a terrible bout of the Cruciatus, even one administered by his father under clear threat, was better than he should have expected. Even though Dumbledore was dead, he hadn't been the one to do it, and everyone knew it, and that was not what he was ordered to do. Everyone knew that, too. That he still existed because the Dark Lord had decided to be merciful, not because he deserved to be alive. Of course they weren't going to accept him, if that was his introduction. 

That old familiar sick feeling was coming back into his stomach, cold and hard and twisted. He'd lived with the fear for almost a year, and for one brief morning, when he'd thought it was over with Dumbledore's death, it had faded, and he almost remembered what it was like not to live under the threat of death. Now that the shape of his future was starting to become clear, it was back where it belonged. He was now glad he hadn't gotten anything to eat. The twisting might not have let him keep it down. 

There was a dark figure moving in the hedges outside; one a terrifying second, he thought that it was the Dark Lord and his breath caught in his throat. When it stepped out into the garden and he realised it was Snape, his breath came back, although his heart was racing so hard it made his chest hurt. 

There must be a meeting tonight. Of course there was. There would be more of them coming soon.

He moved to the doorway of the room so that he was waiting there when Snape came into the house. Snape acknowledged him with a brief pause at the end of the entry.

"What happens now?" Draco asked quietly.

Snape considered him for a long moment, expression cold and unreadable. "Now you live with what you've done," he said eventually. "And haven't." Then he swept away toward the drawing room. 

Draco gripped his arms tightly and looked toward the window again.

#whumptober2023 #no.8 #outnumbered #“It's all for nothing.” #fic #harry potter #homophobia cw #draco “what 16 year old is thinking about sex anyway?” malfoy ladies and gentlemen #oops looks like you're aspec #draco malfoy #lucius malfoy #bellatrix #rodolphus lestrange #snape #social whump? #is that a thing? #teen draco #splendidissimus writing #draco whumpee #death eater whumper

[bird-bureau]

1, 4, and 8 for dahlia and 4, 5, and 12 for Dante!

Really sending me the absolute winner and loser of the vampire roulette huh

Dahlia:

1. How long have they been a vampire? Were they always this way, or did someone (or something) turn them?

She's an infant by vampire standards! But at almost 50 in human years (having been a vampire for a bit over half of it), she definitely feels old. Her turning had none of the romance of a lover biting her neck -- she was the victim of a hit and run walking home from work late at night, and a vampire witness intervened, pumping her full of the venom that kept her from true death. It's all a blur between that and her first lucid moment after, which was waking up on the slab at the morgue with most of her organs gone.

4. How does being a vampire affect their interactions and relationships with other people?

She's always been a people person, but it's hard to be vivacious in undeath. She spends more time at home than she'd like dealing with the fallout of being a desiccated corpse. However, she's able to maintain normal relationships even with humans not in the know. For one, she was an early adopter of the internet and loves its (vanishing) anonymity. Her greatest asset, though, is that she used to work in film makeup, specifically in special effects makeup. With enough time and resources, she can go full clickbait "doctors hate her" transformation and look pretty much human when she's going out on the town.

8. How do they feel about their condition as a whole?

She is making the most of a difficult situation, but she's not very happy about it. Often, she feels like the things she could have done with a normal life are rotting at her feet. She has all the time she could want and nothing she wants to spend it on. She doesn't want to be, but she's just so angry about it.

Dante:

4. How does being a vampire affect their interactions and relationships with other people?

It was much harder on him earlier in his life. The first few decades, it was nearly impossible for him to continue his career as a doctor -- more than once, he entered a frenzy state and killed patients and family members in attendance, forcing him to flee town and start over. These days, after centuries of practiced restraint, he is able to have a normal life and career and passes well enough for human. He can even spend small amounts of time in the sun. Lucky him.

5. Has their vampirism cost them friends or forged new bonds?

It cost him everything at the start. Friends, family, career. He was basically chased out of town (and then the next town, and the next). Even with other vampires, his conviction to keep returning to his career at the potential cost of lives has lost him several friends. Things go more smoothly for him now that he's less of a hazard.

12. Do they want a cure?

He started research on a cure over a century ago -- he was determined to find the cure for vampirism. The results have been mixed. In researching, he realized that finding "the cure for vampirism" is a bit like looking for "the cure for cancer" -- there are simply too many variants for a one-size-fits-all approach. And after all this time, even if he found a cure, he's not sure he would want it. He's grown fond of his undeath and having all the time in the world to pursue whatever makes him happy.

#this took me 300 years but I'm happy with it #dahlia really got vampire isekai'd

[adamwatchesmovies]

Dark Shadows (2012)

While I didn't enjoy this film, that doesn't mean you won't. No matter what I say, the people involved in this project did it: they actually made a movie. That's something to be applauded. With that established...

Dark Shadows shows promise at first, with tried-and-true but effective “fish out of water” humour. From there, the plot gets progressively unsure of where it wants to go, until it starts throwing stuff at the screen haphazardly. I don’t know if anyone could’ve salvaged a workable film from the woeful screenplay by Seth Grahame-Smith but director Tim Burton doesn’t seem to be trying very hard.

In 1760, Barnabas Collins (Johnny Depp) breaks the heart of his servant, Angelique (Eva Green). After she uses dark magic to kill Barnabas' fiancée (Bella Heathcote) she transform him into a vampire - so that he will outlive anyone he ever loves. Soon after, he is captured by villagers and buried "alive" in a coffin. Escaping from his prison in 1972, Barnabas finds his descendants in financial ruin, his beloved reincarnated as their new nanny (Bella Heathcote as Victoria), and Angelique still alive and still obsessed with him.

After the fact, it’s obvious Barnabas is the film’s main character. While watching, it isn’t so clear. You think Victoria will be a major player but she’s an afterthought with no personality. Most of the character feel like director Tim Burton self-indulging a little by tossing a bone to his favourite performers (Christopher Lee has a minor role which can’t have taken more than a day to shoot) or like inclusions put there just because they had an equivalent in the original 1966 television series. The film lasts nearly two hours. If you cut out Helena Bonham Carter as the Collins family doctor who does very little doctoring, the kinda-sorta misfit son David (Gully McGrath), his ne’er-do-well father (Johnny Lee Miller), the rebellious teenage daughter (Chloë Grace Moretz), the elderly maid (Ray Shirley) and the drunken groundskeeper (Jackie Earle Haley), you probably wouldn’t have more than 40-minutes’ worth of a movie. That’s not much but it’d be tighter, focussed and more enjoyable. None of these people have anything to do, and the less said about Alice Cooper’s cameo as himself, the better.

It feels like a bad soap opera that’s being made-up on the spot. Stuff just happens and sure, sometimes it’s funny but nothing’s building up to anything bigger. Now Dr. Hoffman is seducing Barnabas. Ok? Why? So we can cement that everyone finds Johnny Depp in vampire makeup irresistible? I guess that’s a thing but I don’t really get it.

Then, finally, a facsimile of a plot rears its ugly head. Ah! So the film is about Angelique and Barnabas’ rivalry. Wait. She waited 200 years for him to escape from the box she buried him in and in the meantime, she’s been using her fishing business to drive the Collins out of house and home? What a lame way to use your magic powers. It all builds to a lacklustre conclusion in which people are thrown around by magic. I think we’re supposed to feel upset about doomed romances and people caught between two irreconcilable worlds but so little time has been spent fleshing out the mushy stuff you just don’t care.

As an 18th-century vampire struggling to keep up with “modern” technology and sensibilities, Johnny Depp does well. He delivers all of the film’s best moments and yeah, some of it you’ve seen before but it’s still effective. The costumes, sets and art direction are also quite good so visually, Dark Shadows is pleasant to look at - especially when Eva Green is seducing Barnabas. Just about everything else is cringe-inducing and tone-deaf. Sexy as she may look, Green is terrible in this role and I can’t even blame her. No one shines thanks to the weak screenplay and scatterbrained direction torn between drama, horror and comedy. I nearly completely forgot about Michelle Pfeiffer, which is too bad because her character actually contributes something of value to the story.

The first time I saw Dark Shadows, I didn’t love it but found things to enjoy and gave it a mildly positive review. Re-examining it now, 3 stars seems way too generous. Although never awful, Dark Shadows doesn't give you many reasons to watch it. (April 5, 2019)

#Dark Shadows #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Tim Burton #Seth Grahame-Smith #John August #Johnny Depp #Michelle Pfeiffer #Helena Bonham Carter #Eva Green #Jackie Earle Haley #Jonny Lee Miller #Chloe Grace Moretz #Bella Heathcote #2012 movies #2012 films

[bisexualbumblebee-writes]

Dwarrowtober 2022 Day 24: Gemstones- Bofur x OC

Bofur x Gemma

Description: Who would’ve thought gemstones would be the thing to bring two hearts together?

Word Count: 1.2k

Anyone who knew Gemma knew that she loved gems. She found them so beautiful and even valued some of them more than any good. She collected any gem she could find no matter what the price was. It was common knowledge that if you had any sort of gem you didn’t want, she would be happy to take it.

Bofur didn’t understand her fascination with those gems. Of course everyone had their own hobbies, but it just seemed like a random thing to hyperfixate on to him. He used to work in the mines, though, so perhaps he was just used to seeing them so often. Maybe she was just trying to keep memories of their old home?

Whatever the reason was, it didn’t stop him from becoming enamored with her. He’d met her just after they’d begun settling in the Blue Mountains. He had been helping set up his toy shop with Bombur and Bifur when he noticed Gemma having trouble lifting something heavy into her home just a few houses down. After introducing himself, he offered his services, which she gladly accepted. And that’s what started their friendship. Both of them sort of knew that there were more than friendly feelings somewhere between them, but nothing had come of it yet. They’d only just become friends after all.

But that didn’t stop her from giving him gifts in the forms of gems. Sapphires, to be specific. It started when he helped her with a chore like bringing water from the well to her house. She’d given him a blue sapphire that day. Though initially confused, he thanked her nonetheless and placed the gem in his pocket before going on his way. It stayed there when the next sapphire found its way beside it. A pink one this time, for chopping firewood for her (though really he just brought some extra from his shop (Bifur wasn’t too pleased about having to go out and chop more when he found out)). And it continued like that until it got to the point where she’d just give him one at random almost every time she saw him. It was always at the end of their visits, like it was some sort of goodbye ritual. Not that Bofur minded, as long as he spent time with Gemma he was content and if giving him a sapphire made her happy, then he was too.

After nearly a year of friendship Bofur just couldn’t wait anymore. He had to let Gemma know about how he felt. But how? What was something that portrayed his feelings for her while still in her limits so as to not embarrass her with a big show? He paced back and forth in his living room many times, wracking his brain for the perfect idea. When none came to mind a small huff left his lips as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets, annoyed.

That annoyance quickly washed away when he felt a small handful of sapphires in his pocket that he’d never taken out. And that was when it hit him. He’d make a courting bead out of a gem! The gem that signified love, specifically. But, which one was that? Despite having mined gems for years upon years he never knew any gemstone’s significance, he never had a need to after all. So, he decided to go to the local bookkeeper and ask for a book on it.

After being led to a table and having a large (and heavy sounding) book titled ‘Gemstones and Their Meanings’ placed in front of him, he thanked the bookkeeper and set out on searching through the book. He scanned over every page in the book looking for the infamous l word. Finally, after what felt like forever he came across the fated passage.

‘It is noted in many places that the pink sapphire is considered the official gemstone of true love. Pink represents love and romance, caring, tenderness, acceptance and calm. The sapphire, meanwhile, is often used as a pledge of love, which only further proves the theory.’

Bofur’s eyes were as wide as saucers by the time he finished the passage. Before he even realized it he found himself digging through his pocket and pulling out the handfuls of sapphires. After sorting them out he counted each color. He’d acquired quite a few over the past year of receiving them, so it took several minutes. He held his breath as he looked over the tally. 28 blue ones, 16 green ones, 23 orange ones, 12 yellow ones, 20 purple ones and 52 pink ones.

The pink ones at least doubled every other color, and Bofur instantly understood what it meant. She’d been confessing to him for a year and he hadn’t even realized it. Did she even realize it? Of course she did. She knew everything there was to know about gemstones, which meant she was waiting for him to realize. A small smile settled on his face at the realization and he sat back in his seat, staring at the pink sapphire in his hand, and he made his decision.

It took him almost two months and at least six pink sapphires (they just kept breaking) before he finally managed to finish the courting bead. It looked simple enough, but the way it glittered in the sun made it more than special and beautiful to him. Finally the day came where he would confess his love to her. Bofur was a bundle of nerves as he made his way to Gemma’s house, and it only increased when he saw the girl on her front porch reading. When she heard his footsteps she looked up, then smiled and closed her book when she realized it was him.

“Good evening, Bofur,” she greeted, earning a smile from the Dwarf.

“Evening, Gemma. I was just wondering if I could have a minute of your time.”

“Of course,” she answered, setting her book aside and standing up. Bofur nodded, then took a deep breath as he began his speech.

“Pardon me if this is a bit long winded, but I have a few things to say. I cherish outside your house, where we first met. The moment my eyes looked at you, I knew you were going to be special to me. Recently, I’ve egun to regard you as much more than just a friend however. My feelings for you intensify with everything you do. I love how carefree you look when you sing and dance, and when we make music together it makes my heart sing with joy. Gemma, you are one of the most intelligent, kind hearted, patient and loyal people I’ve ever met. I know that right now I just sound like a lovesick fool but I think I can make you happy and we can have a life together if you give me the chance. So,” he paused, then pulled the gemstone bead out of his pocket. “Will you do me the greatest honor and court me?”

Gemma was silent throughout his speech, but she could almost immediately tell where it was going. That didn’t stop her from growing excited when he pulled out the courting bead. A wide smile broke out on her face and she practically threw herself at him once he finished speaking, wrapping him in a hug and nearly knocking him over if he hadn’t caught himself.

“Yes! A thousand times yes!” She exclaimed. A small laugh escaped the boy’s lips as he returned her hug, and he couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Who would’ve thought gemstones would be the thing to bring two hearts together?

#the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #bofur #bofur imagine #bofur x oc

[diomedrian]

I complain a lot on here but I was reading with my cat curled up next to me and it's thundering outside and I think maybe life is good

#personal #i am gonna post little moments cos i realized i didn't do it for my entire time in uk bc i was terrified i might never let any of it go #but thats okay sometimes like tonight. it came back to me as if it'd happened a week ago. as if i was joking in the grocery store about #English food and cat food with my friend who later walked me home and told me to watch for the stars and how when he was inside my room i #had a brief moment of maybe but then i didn't act on it i think thats the only time i didn't act on it #and there arw so many flashbacks to me and him (b) lying in bed and me waking up to his arms around me and me kissing him #goodbye at eleven pm so he can catch the last train because i insisted he stay a couple of hours more and the one time i was like sure I'll #walk with you to the station i don't mind and the look on his face so delighted and so pure as if he'd won the world #sometimes i think I'll take no one else just wait around until i run into him again because i dont think I'd want anyone else ever again #and its true there have been romances after but none like him nothing like us and i am very young but maybe i romance is not for me #not with humans and if it is and if its not with him then i want no part of it. maybe I'll find someone better whrn i am 60 someone who #shares the same interest in Euripides and Aristotle but that doesn't matter for now. i wanted a tragic once in a life time kind of thing. #I've got it. I've gotten as many romantic tropes as were sincerely possible. i have no complaints #fiskkfksdk i am so hopeful now that i have made peace with this that i will come around with classics as well #i am planning on just not being online for a while not on tumblr ofc that doesn't count but just. read and develop. #think internet is exhausting because its not moderated. when i am ready I'll schedule time slots of 10 minutes and maybe that'll make for #consistent and thoughtful posting and hopefully I'll have a classics thing ready to go as well yknow #it's okay that I have to take a couple of more months to be ready for classics. it won't matter in the long run #or it might and it will still be okay because I'd be pursuing classics #yes it has actually made me question whether i like greek or not even though its a modern translation and i have studied ancient greek. and #thAts the only reason i haven't lost my mind because sure it's derived from the ancient one but that doesn't mean anything. its still a ver #Different language and its okay that i can't do it because i actually haven't studied it lmao #anyway sorry these tags are so long and i love you and i am you exist #*glad

[aminiatureworld]

Interest II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,020

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Sometimes emotions can be confusing. In those times it can be easier to shut down. After all, wouldn’t finding the truth out be scarier?

In which the reader assumes their character is disinterested, and pulls away.

Author’s Note: I wrote a lot tonight! It was nice to write for multiple characters again, made me feel like the good old days, or something. 

Hope I’m finally getting back on schedule and hope you enjoy!

Kaeya

If Kaeya flirted with you, he also flirted with all of Mondstadt; or so you kept telling yourself.

You liked the cavalry captain, you liked him a lot. It was easy to like him, as easy as breathing air. The thickets of romance, the awkward looks, the stilted conversations, the dying words. None of those things existed in Kaeya.

If there were roses there were thorns too, and though you tried to convince yourself that this emotion, this easiness was something good, there was a part of you that fought back at the idea. The reason things were so easy with Kaeya was because of one simple reason. He didn’t like you. Or not the way you liked him. Kaeya flirted with all of Mondstadt after all, and you were merely one library assistant in the middle of an entire country. Your existence wasn’t one for the history books. Not compared to the man that you’d managed to fall hopelessly in love with anyways.

At first you tried to ignore those voices, that cynical side of yourself that existed only, it seemed, to make you unhappy. You weren’t necessarily an optimist by nature, but you were a bit of a hopeless romantic, and flirting or not you at least hoped to get your point across. Delivering Kaeya’s library requests first, always going up to him at lunchtime to talk, even giving him a special gift for the Windbloom festival. You really did try, you didn’t think that the opposite could be argued. Still things continued on as relatively normal however, Kaeya’s flirting never seeming to grow particularly towards you. Eventually it became harder and harder to avoid the voice in your head sneering you were wasting your time. Or maybe you were just tired.

Either way the answer seemed to be obvious. You knew when the answer was to count your losses and move on, and surely this was one of those times. Kaeya wasn’t going to see you as a partner, he just wasn’t. That didn’t mean he wasn’t kind, or that your conversations with him weren’t lovely, or even that you weren’t still in love with him. Still, wasn’t it time to move on to kinder winds? You wanted a clean break, wanted an end to your painful waiting; didn’t want to experience that clench in your heart when you watched Kaeya flirting with someone else as the point just drove further and further home. You wanted reprieve, and the only way to do that was to admit the obvious. This wasn’t going to happen.

So you gave up, or did your best attempt at giving up. You still spoke to Kaeya, the gods knew you probably couldn’t stand not speaking to him. You still tried to keep as light as before, tried to retain the dynamic, for something was better than nothing. Yet your days of simply chasing after him were over, and as you settled into you schedule of new normalcy you found, though things weren’t necessarily easier, at least they seemed simpler. Besides, how much had really changed? Kaeya most likely didn’t notice.

“Kaeya, the manuscript you requested on Liyue trade history came in yesterday. There were also a few other things that came in, though Lisa told me they’re classified.”

“Oh Lisa, always a stickler for rules. Would you like to know what I requested?”

“Like you would actually tell me,” you snorted. “No, I’m fine. It’s none of my business.”

“Aw,” Kaeya pouted slightly, crossing his arms in front of him. He seemed to be doing that more often these days, though maybe you were simply imagining it. “Where’s your sense of adventure darling? You seemed to have lost it somewhere.”

“I’m just following rules,” you pointed out.

Something had shifted about the conversation at some point, and you were suddenly feeling an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Finding it uncomfortable you quickly removed the space between you and Kaeya, reaching out to place the brown paper wrapped books into his hands. Taking them Kaeya lifted an eyebrow. Turning around he went to put them on his desk.

The momentary reprieve in atmosphere you felt quickly died, as before you had time to turn around the cavalry captain was back, this time leaning closely towards you.

“What is it?” You asked. This was certainly Kaeya behavior, but it still startled you nonetheless.

“You’re acting funny.”

“What? I’m acting completely normal.”

“If you say so.”

But the tone conveyed that Kaeya didn’t agree one bit. A smirk painting his lips he turned around, though something bitter seemed to flash behind his eyes, and for a moment you wondered if he had somehow caught on to the secret you’d been hoping to keep to yourself.

After that things seemed to continue on as normal for a few weeks. If Kaeya’s books were secretly transgressive, they certainly weren’t doing anything actively, and life as an assistant librarian to the Knights of Favonius retained its languid, unhurried pace. Still a part of you had never forgotten about that weird snippet of conversation, one which was doing a surprisingly good job at eating away at you.

You were almost relieved when Kaeya brought the matter up again.

“Is something wrong darling?”

“You asked me that two weeks ago Kaeya.”

“Really? It’s been that long? I must be neglecting my duties,” he let out a careless sort of laugh, before his eyes steadied. “I was hoping that this time I might get a more honest answer.”

“So you think I’m lying to you when I’m saying nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“But I’m not! How could I be lying to both you and myself.”

“I find that doing such a thing is a surprisingly easy task. Nevertheless, even if you aren’t lying, there is something wrong.”

“And what would that thing be, Mr. Expert?” For some reason this conversation was aggravating you. Maybe because you couldn’t decide whether or not he was right.

“I don’t know, I was hoping you could tell me. I can’t say sorry for something I’m not aware of, I don’t know what I did. You do though. So the sooner you tell me what’s wrong the sooner things can go back to normal.”

“What do you mean by normal Kaeya? If anything this is more normal. Not that things have changed that much. I’m sorry I don’t deliver your books first, if that’s what you’re complaining about. But frankly, I don’t see what you’re so upset about? You’ve got plenty of other friends, so why are you complaining to me?”

Maybe it wasn’t your best use of logic, but your ability to circle around the focus of the conversation, the unspoken emotions that still burned through you, was somewhat lacking.

“This is not normal. I’m not talking about library books, I’m talking about friends. Or maybe avoidance. You’ve been avoiding me lately, even if you aren’t doing it completely. It wounds me, you know. My dearest companion, what did I do to earn their ire?”

“You did nothing.”

“That’s obviously a lie.”

“It’s not.”

“It is,” Kaeya voice was clipped, matching your same tone. Even now he was shifting himself to better fit the atmosphere in the room, something you normally valued so deeply.

“It’s not. It’s really not! That’s the problem Kaeya, don’t you see?” Tears that had threated the corners of your eyes were now burning across your vision, as your emotions finally broke through the paltry excuse for a dam you’d been building. “You’ve done nothing, you’ve never done anything. You’re always nice, and flirty, and a bit shameless. And that’s fine! It’s not your fault that you don’t feel like I feel for you. I don’t want to make you feel guilty. You flirt with everyone, and that’s fine. I don’t care! I really don’t. I don’t want to burden you. Still, can’t you just let me feel upset by it? Can’t you just let me give up? Do you know how painful it is not to give up? Why won’t you let me at least do that, but no! Instead you come in here talking about how everything’s different, as if I’ve offended you, or as if you worry would change anything. Of course it won’t! And it shouldn’t! But damn it Kaeya, I just want to be upset!”

By this time Kaeya had closed the space between you two, wrapping his arms around you and running soft, slightly cool, fingers through your hair. You nestled into him, despite yourself. You were so tired and so angry, and right now it didn’t really seem to matter who you cried on as long as you were crying on someone. Letting yourself be carried away by your emotions you let your ragged breathing unleash itself inside the walls of Kaeya’s office.

Eventually you calmed down. Though you expected Kaeya to step away when your breathing evened out, instead he remained there, continuing to run comforting fingers though you hair, his other hand gently cradling your shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that was the reason.” It was simple, direct. Undeniably Kaeya.

“What else would be the reason,” you grumbled.

“I don’t know. It’s why I asked. Thank you for answering me.”

“You forced me into it.” There was no true venom behind your words. You were sure Kaeya knew that.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

“No.”

“Not yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet.”

“That’s alright. Now’s not the best time anyways, since I ought to look my best. Not that I don’t look amazing already, but I should dress up for an occasion such as that. Still, I hope that eventually you’ll allow yourself to live in a way that doesn’t make you unhappy. Sometimes we can’t do that. This time you can.”

“Maybe.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting for you darling, and you know how impatient I am.”

“What if you have to wait for a long time?” You were feeling quite contrary.

“Then I’ll wait. After all, I’ll have quite the reward for my patience.”

You smiled into Kaeya. Despite yourself, you knew it wouldn’t be that long.

 Xiao

With Xiao, the question was always boundaries. How far is too far? How far is not far enough? It was an endless maze, even if it was a maze you would gladly continue to explore, sure that the light at the end must lead to something truly beautiful. Still, you didn’t exactly need your emotions to come in and complicate something already so difficult to navigate.

At first you tired to ignore, to take a page from the book the yaksha you’d so hopelessly fallen for had written. Yet if was much harder than it ought to be, for loving Xiao seemed to come as naturally as breathing, and no amount of looking for faults seemed to be doing much to change that. After all, everyone has faults, and nothing could change the innate goodness you saw in Xiao, the wonder and light that he carried with him, despite his millennia of hardships.

At first you thought to tell him, to cross that border, find that boundary and test it with all the patience it had taken to test and cross those other boundaries.

“Xiao?”

“Mmm.”

“I, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“I, I made you some Almond Tofu!”

Xiao let his eyes widen with characteristic surprise, before leaping down nimbly from his perch to take the dish you brought out from behind your back. You watched as he ate it happily, warmth running through your veins. Nevertheless a part of you cried in frustration, perhaps even pain, for you knew you had failed to do what you had set out to do.

It wasn’t simply that you feared losing Xiao’s friendship, feared losing his respect. It was the boundaries, those invisible lines you were so careful not to step over. Xiao needed those boundaries, you knew he did. Though he had told you very little about his past, what he had told was horrific, and you hardly doubted that Xiao’s survival, his failure to spin into madness, was because of those walls he’d carefully constructed around himself. You wanted him to shed those walls yes, to slowly emerge from the darkness which he held around himself. But you weren’t ready to push him to do so, or not very much at least. It wasn’t truly in your nature to do so anyways.

So you expressed your feelings as best you could, with tofu and flowers and all the kindness you had to offer. When you weren’t working, spending your time sewing for a high-end Liyue shop, you were with Xiao. A part of you assumed that it would be enough, that if you gave Xiao enough of your time and enough of your attention the barriers would magically break down. One day you’d wake up and they’d be gone and you’d be happy, having never pushed things too far.

As nothing truly seemed to change however you grew slowly discouraged. You weren’t really aware of your flagging hopes, not really. It was more that you were busy, you were so busy. Besides, Xiao hadn’t expressed much sadness over losing your company. Perhaps he was secretly relieved, perhaps you had pushed too far at some point and he hadn’t told you. Maybe it was best that you give his boundaries time, and not push it too far.

Even looking back it was hard not to call the logic sound, or at least sound to you. In some ways you and Xiao were cut of the same cloth, and though that brought with it an understanding, it also brought its own set of issues. Neither of you were willing to walk over the line that the other drew, even if you could not see where they had actually drawn it. Even if not doing so was painful, the fear of what pain might come if you did was too great a discouragement.

So you began to slowly fade away, without being entirely aware that you were indeed doing so. You were busy after all, and Xioa was most likely too. He was still a yaksha after all, a being whose life was almost completely disconnected from your own. Surely it wouldn’t be that surprising if his views were similar? Maybe you truly had crossed a line, and that was why he never seemed to enquire after you. Or maybe it was that you hadn’t mattered all that much in the first place.

It was a wet, cold autumn day. You sighed slightly as you unlocked your door, having gotten drenched by protecting a bold of fabric you were bringing home to cut and pin. Letting out a huff, you opened the door and went to take a nap. You must’ve been tired, for it took a few seconds for the screech of surprise to leave you mouth at the sight of the unexpected intruder waiting for you.

“Xiao! You scared me!”

You stared at the yaksha, very much surprised by the sight of him. Your surprise had very little time to register though, being quickly replaced by concern for the storm so clearly gathering in Xiao’s eyes.

“You were gone for so long.”

“I’m sorry Xiao. It’s just been so busy you know, everyone’s preparing for the change in season. Besides…”

“Besides?”

“I didn’t want to bother you. I mean, I know you also have a job, and though I want you to find happiness outside of it, I don’t want to pressure you.”

Xiao’s facial expressions evidently conveyed that he was not impressed. Searching for the right words you let your gaze drift towards the floor. You weren’t sure that you were ever going to be ready for a conversation like this, but certainly not in the state you were now. Still, you owed Xiao some sort of explanation. Of course you did.

“I’m really sorry Xiao. I should have found time for you. It’s completely my fault.”

“That’s not what I want.” Xiao’s tone was gruff, frustrated. You found the frustration mirrored within yourself.

“What do you want?”

“I,” Xiao flushed. “I don’t want you to apologize. I’m not blaming you for anything. You shouldn’t apologize for nothing.”

“Sorry,” you mumbled.

Xiao shook his head. For a moment he just stood there, eyes stormy. Slowly though he reached out to take your hand. You found the act surprisingly comforting. You had missed Xiao’s hands, delicately built, calloused beyond believe. They felt comforting and warm and safe, and you wished you could never let go of them. Drawing strength from that you slowly raised your gaze slightly.

“What do you want, Xiao?”

At first Xiao said nothing. Perhaps he was staring at a line, contemplating whether to cross it. You had half the mind to apologize again, but managed to stop the words from coming out. You knew that it was just a force of habit. Besides, Xiao hadn’t said anything yet. A small spark of hope burned inside you, the hope that something might go well.

There was a gentle tug on your wrist and suddenly you were in Xiao’s arms, his hair gently tickling your nose.

“This,” he mumbled. “I want this.”

For a moment you felt yourself freeze in shock, but soon enough you found yourself melting into his embrace, wrapping your own arms around him. Xiao was warm like a heater, warm beyond that too. It was as if there was something in his soul. Gentle, flickering, it brought you happiness that you never thought you could imagine. You wanted to bask in it forever, it was worth any twists and turns you might have to take to reach it.

“Don’t disappear again.”

“I won’t.”

“I should have come earlier.”

“It’s alright. Hey, Xiao?”

“What?” Xiao’s arms tightened around you slightly. You didn’t want to talk much more either.

“What do you think of me?”

Xiao let out a soft snort. “I thought that was pretty obvious.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

It was more than you could have ever hoped for.

#genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #xiao x reader #xiao #alatus #Genshin Impact fanfiction #scenarios #fanfiction #my writing #requested #gn reader

[softlystarstruck]

✩ softly reading, january 24 - 30 ✩

in which i list every single drarry fic i’ve read this week in hopes that you, dear reader, find a fic you like too!

✩ - a fave | 🔥 - hot | 🌼 - fluff

spotlight rec

✩ Chrysalis by @piarelei [E, 3.6k] 🔥🏳️‍⚧

He stops thinking. He feels the cold in his hands, the way Draco’s eyes darken with arousal at the chill of them and he unbuttons Draco’s slacks. He doesn’t bother to shed his coat, he just slips his frigid hand down the front of Draco’s boxers and drinks the noises from his mouth.

why i rec this: this fic is SO HOT and also full of a beautiful, poetic style that i've come to associate with baz's writing. it's so clear how much draco and harry care for each other, and how badly harry wants to make draco feel good. it's also a lovely exploration of temperature play, bondage, all wrapped up in a t4t drarry package!

longer reads

✩ Lockdown Lurgy by @xanthippe74 [T, 15k]

When a dangerous virus comes to Britain, the Ministry orders a mandatory lockdown to control its spread. If Harry wants to spend the next two weeks with Teddy, he’s going to have to share Andromeda’s guest room with none other than Draco Malfoy, England’s Number One Prat. Andromeda’s collection of romance novels might save Harry from boredom, but nothing can make living with Malfoy bearable… until Harry has the inexplicable impulse to kiss him.

✩ the potential of broken things by icarusinflight [E, 10k]

Harry's feeling lost, but he finds Draco in a shop full of (not broken, just waiting to be repaired) items. He stays a while. [H/D Erised 2020]

short & sweet

✩ all the feelings that you're making me feel by @bonesliketambourines [E, 7.1k] 🔥

Harry should have known that ‘clean bill of health’ he got after a spell rebounded off him in a raid was too good to be true, especially with Draco Malfoy involved. He never expected this, though, but he finds to his utter shame that he could bloody well get used to it. [Taste of Smut Fest]

Baby News by Avonne [T, 4.3k]

The realization hits Dudley like an anvil of dread - the posh psychopath who's been stalking him is Harry's husband. And he's in Dudley's house.

✩ the list by prettyweeper [T, 3.5k] 🌼

Harry wants to make one thing clear: he didn't intend to start the list.

✩ First Times by @fw00shy [E, 1.5k] 🔥

Their first time is in the loo.

✩ collusion in pursuit by @kryptidfoxwrites [T, 222 words]

Auror Draco Malfoy has been hunting Harry Potter, and Harry Potter has been evading him. Now, they both have each other right where they want.

✩ could make it cruisin' by @bonesliketambourines [G, 220 words]

relationships are fragile.

art gallery

✩ Summer in the garden by ImmortalAcorn [E, art piece] 🔥

past softly reading lists

#softly reading #softly reading january 2022 #drarry fic rec #drarry rec list #drarry fanfic list

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

The Road Less Traveled (Fellowship x Pregnant!Reader)

Synopsis: Left by a man who took you out of wedlock, you discover halfway through the Fellowship’s journey that you are, indeed, pregnant. Not wishing for you to face motherhood alone, the Fellowship conspires, regarding whom gets to marry you and help raise your child, leaving you with a tough choice.

This was not at all how you saw your life going—both the man leaving you for another woman, and finding out you were pregnant with his baby on a perilous quest, miles upon miles away from the nearest dwelling.

You had been madly in love with this man, unaware he had eyes for another. Your copulating love was taken out of wedlock, a choice you knew had its risks, but Brander had a charming way about him.

You never would have thought he’d leave you. However, one morning, Brander announced the conclusion of your relationship with another woman on his arm.

Heartbroken and enraged, you threw all his clothes from your shack, and took to a horse. Riding swiftly, you headed to the one place you knew hearts were healed; Rivendell.

Upon your arrival, a council of sorts was taking place. One thing led to another, as per usual in your life, and you found yourself on another journey—this time with a higher purpose, and nine other guys.

Things were difficult, but honestly relieving. The fresh air cleansed your soul, as did the healthy relationships you built up with the nine males—proving to you that they weren’t all bad, right on time before you could curse the entire species of XY chromosomes out forever.

However, this was as far as the fun went.

It started with a tiredness the Fellowship brushed off due to your inexperience, and then the lateness of your period. Next, early dawns were spent throwing up in the woods, with whomever was on night-watch holding your hair back, usually Aragorn, Legolas or Boromir.  

You wept slightly when a sparring match with Boromir resulted in a shield hitting your breasts, for they were very tender as of late. The final nail in the coffin was the snubbing of Sam’s usually delicious bacon making you hurl.

Gandalf had taken to speaking with you privately, and asked, in the politest manner possible, if he could assess your womb to find confirmation of another soul.

Legolas approached slowly, crouched down by your side, and spoke responsively in the most apologetic of voices.

“There is no need—I can hear their heartbeat…I am so sorry, Y/n.”

You broke down into tears quickly, and everyone soon knew your predicament that evening. You apologized over and over, and felt utterly mortified. How embarrassing.

They now knew the choice you had made out of wedlock, and were pregnant as a result—something highly frowned upon in human society, and many others in Middle-earth, for that matter. You would no doubt be branded as a “whore” upon your return to society.

You told them all about Brander that night, and opened up to them fully. Jaws were clenched, nervous glances were flashed, and brows were furrowed.

They now had an expectant, first-time mother in their midst, on their way to quite possibly the worst place in the world to take a pregnant woman. Adding onto this, their poor friend, whom they had grown quite close with, was in a horrible situation.

But perhaps it was one they could help with?

Driven by noble blood and true chivalry, the Fellowship started to discuss their options.  

“It’s just awful, what that ‘Brander’ fellow has done to her,” said Boromir, discreetly nodding over in your direction.

You were sat with your head in one hand on a log by the fire, face contorted in misery. Your cheeks and eyes, as well as your nose, were all pink, due to a long while of crying.

Sam sat on one side of you, and held your hand. He reassured you with bright words of soothing promises.

“Don’t worry, Miss Y/n! All will work out! You’ll see! You’re bringing a new soul into this world! That’s nothing to be ashamed of!” Sam would say.

Merry, Frodo and Pippin were on your other side, rubbing your back and holding your shoulder.

“He’s right!” they’d agree, nodding profusely. “You’ll see! This is a wonderful thing. You just can’t quite picture it yet, but you will!”

Gimli, Boromir, Aragorn and Legolas were all huddled in close, standing in a circle. They stood a little further off from the fire, but still caught its glow.

Gandalf was sat on a log himself, puffing away on a pipe. The affairs of human society were not his responsibility, but he offered guidance from a distance nonetheless. He already knew all would work out, but was the only one there oldest and wisest enough to realize so.

Legolas’ arms were folded over his chest, as were the three others’ he stood with. “She’ll be shamed wherever she goes, and her child will be considered a bastard. Truly awful…I feel compelled to help. What can we do?”

“Well, to avoid public slander,” Aragorn spoke up knowingly, “she’d have to be married.”

“Very well and all,” Gimli whispered back, “but were you perhaps not present when she said the scoundrel ran off with another filly?”

“He was not whom I was referencing,” Aragorn mentioned. He threw a studious glance in your direction, and spoke again. “She is a fine young lady, with a strong heart and homely nature. She would make a wonderful wife, and I feel it our duty as her friends to make sure she becomes so.”

“You mean for us to marry her?” Legolas asked, incredulously. His head lowered in shock as he spoke, and a brow arched.

The guys, save for Aragorn, who overlooked it all, glanced between each other tensely, unsure if the alarmed glint in their eyes was competition or fear.

Boromir was the first to speak up.

“I will do it, in a heartbeat!” he said. “You are right, Aragorn—she is a wonderful young lady, and deserves to be wed in time for her child. I will care for them both.”

“Well, now hold on a moment,” Legolas snapped, glaring across at Boromir. “Why do you get to marry her? I am much closer in age to her than you are…figuratively speaking, at least. I should be the one to marry her—we get along best.”

“You?” Gimli snorted. “You will outlive her in the blink of an eye.”

“Oh, and you won’t?” Legolas said back. “None of us implied romance anyways, Gimli. I’d merely be a lifelong friend and guardian for her and her child. I’m the most suited out of everyone here to provide for her—”

“Because you’re a prince?” Boromir interjected, narrowing his eyes.

“Not just because of that,” Legolas bit back, squaring up with Boromir slightly. “But what of it regardless? What does it matter how I provide for her? I plan on renouncing my title and making a life of my own anyways. I might not get the chance for a child of my own, and I can help Y/n raise hers.”

“She’s not some puppy, laddie,” Gimli snorted back. “You both want to store her away in a little cottage or unit somewhere drab. I can provide her with culture! Dwarven culture! Her little one deserves to grow up in grand halls and eat ripened meat!”

Aragorn looked between the unfolding drama, and soon raised a hand before you could become even more distressed. Fortunately, you hadn’t heard a thing of their hushed conversation.

“That is enough,” Aragorn said. “I’d offer to marry her myself, but…well, I do believe you three are better suited than me to provide a stable life for her. It is ultimately up to Y/n. All either three of you can do is offer your hand in marriage to her, and see what she says.”

Glares were thrown between the three potential suitors, as each wondered who’d be the first to turn around and run towards you.

As it turns out, all three turned on their heels at the same. They nearly tripped over one another. However, they stopped almost immediately, for someone on the other side already had the same idea.

“It is quite all right, Y/n,” Frodo said, down on one knee before you, and holding your hand. “The Shire will accept you, and I can just say I fell in love on the road and married you immediately. I have a big house now left all to myself, with many rooms. You can have one to yourself, as can your child. Bilbo did the same for me when I was young.”

You were crying again, but this time out of happiness. Your other hand was placed over your chest, as you smiled down at the kind hobbit with a wavering lower lip.

“Oh, Frodo, that is so incredibly kind, I can only say—”

“DON’T SAY ANYTHING!” Legolas shouted, rushing forwards. He nearly shoved Frodo out of the way, and took his place holding your hand swiftly.

“Y/n,” he began, sincerely, “I’ve always felt that you and I have had a…special bond since beginning this journey together. I can provide you with a cottage in the forest, and true protection. I’m an archer and an elf—your child will learn many life skills with me as their parental guardian. And, furthering this, after you’ve moved on from our world, your child will surely be left behind. I can ensure they are well-cared for up until their own departure!”

“Oh, Legolas, I don’t know what to...” you went to say, holding his hand with both of yours. You were truly starting to get overwhelmed with happiness and relief.

“Oh, shove it, pixie!” Gimli shouted from behind Legolas. He, too, stole the snarling elf’s place, chivalrously removing his helmet as he did so. “Lass, I know I may not be your usual type, or blonde, but I am asking for your hand as well. I can offer you so much in Dwarven society. The women are strong, and you will find ranks in them! Your child will be given an equal chance, no matter the gender, to be themselves! Life in the halls is a true marvel—”

“Enough, the both of you!” Boromir shouted next. He tugged Gimli by the beard and threw him away. “Y/n, you and I are both humans. I understand you and our shared culture better than anyone else here! Please, nothing would make me happier than to provide for you as my wife. Not to mention, the child will look most like me, racially-wise.”

The hobbits all looked between each other with shocked smiles, intrigued by the situation, and Gandalf and Aragon merely shook their heads.

Legolas grabbed hold of Boromir’s shoulder and stood him up. “Race has nothing to do with it! If we’re really going to narrow this down to looks, I am the tallest! That is highly desirable in a husband! Y/n and her child will live a wonderfully secure and safe life with me. You need to back off.”

“Why don’t you make me?” Boromir bit back.

Before a fight could break out between the two of them, Gimli hopped into the middle and added his own string of harsh words.

The three suitors of differing races soon began to bicker between themselves, leaving you sat on the log very stunned indeed.

However, after a long while of listening to them argue over who gets to marry you, you put up your hand and silenced them. Although, it took a good few shouts until they shut up completely and curiously blinked down at you.

“Boys. Boys! BOYS!” Once the attention was on you, you spoke again. “I am so incredibly flattered by your equal devotion, it has truly made me feel better about everything, but...do I not get a say in whom I marry out of everyone here?”

Legolas moved his body slightly, so he stood facing you straight. “Well, whom do you choose, my lady?”

Frodo had backed off entirely, but shared a lipped smile with you, ultimately letting you know the offer was still on the table regardless. Boromir, Gimli and Legolas all stared at you optimistically, leaning forwards as they waited for your reply.

Stumped by so many choices, and considering you didn’t even know this would be a part of your life plan up until five hours ago, you went with the smartest choice; waiting.

“These are all very early days…” you began. “I’m very overwhelmed by all the offers, and still getting used to the idea of motherhood, and now marriage—”

You took a calming breath.

“You’re all so sweet, and I truly appreciate your support, but…could I perhaps sit on it for a while, and return with an answer at a later time? This is a very big decision, as you can all imagine.”

They quickly agreed, and nodded their heads vehemently.

“Take all the time you need!” they said reassuringly, in one form or another.

That night, they all waved sweet “goodnights” over their shoulders to you, and even gave up their cloaks and packs to create what they deemed the perfect “mother’s nest” for you to sleep on.

It was all very sweet, and warmed your heart. However, although half the problem was solved, you were presented with another; who on earth were you going to choose to marry and raise your unborn child with?

Actually, the more you thought about it that night, as you fell asleep with nine friends protecting you as you slept in the middle, like a herd of animals keeping their mother-to-be safe, the more you realized you already knew exactly whom you wanted to live with.

#considering I’m turning 20 this year this is my little gift to myself congratulating on avoiding teen pregnancy #I made it lads #it was one of my biggest and most irrational fears as a kid #lotr x reader #lotrdaily #lotr movies #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #Gimli #lotr imagine #turns out teen pregnancy is really easy to avoid

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song viii.

Your first encounter with Kim Seokjin doesn’t go so well, nor your second, or your third… and maybe that’s because it shouldn’t work on paper. You’re an elementary school teacher, never left the country despite hitting the third decade of your life not so long ago, and you’re unable to remember the last time you dated. He’s the dad of one of your students, nearly a decade older than you and divorced. Oh yes, and just another minor detail – he’s a multimillionaire. 

Your lives are lightyears apart, yet somehow, your paths having now crossed, things just seem to fall into place…

pairing; kim seokjin x reader   au/genre/warnings; strangers to lovers, romance, single dad! seokjin, ceo! seokjin, elementary school teacher! oc, age gap (oc is 30, seokjin is 37), seokjin is a dilf, angst, just straight up angst and drama, arguments, both seokjin and nana are frustrated, both have reasons to feel hurt, both make mistakes  words; 5,122

↪︎ chapter index

chapters; i • ii • iii  • iv • v • vi • vii • viii • ix • x • epilogue (+ drabbles)

You looked at Nana, chest a little tight, something heavy in your stomach. When your eyes locked the corners of her mouth curled upwards. “The stepmom!” She sneered. 

Your face fell, confused at first, as you attempted to make sense of her words, of her anger. You didn’t understand what was going on, but unable to stop yourself, irritation began creeping its way up your body, heat prickling your face. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, but under appropriate triggers, you often saw red. You opened your mouth, ready to say something – you didn’t quite know what – but then your gaze fell to Arin. Still clutching her mom’s hand. Her eyes were on you now, still wide and brimming with tears. She looked frightened. You came to your senses. 

There was no good getting angry. Especially in front of a child. By your side, Seokjin straightened his back, letting go of your hand to step in front of you slightly. You appreciated the thought, but you didn’t really need protecting. You could look after yourself.  

“Stop embarrassing yourself, Nana.” 

Caught off guard for the second time in under five minutes, the tone of Seokjin’s voice threw you for a loop. The venom you heard unnerved you, a sick feeling twisting your gut. You’d heard him stressed, you’d heard him tense, you’d even heard him stern a few times on the phone, but you’d never heard his voice filled with such bite like this. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nana spat back, her long hair flipping around as she raised her hand to point at him. “Not when you’ve been playing house with your daughter’s teacher, letting my daughter call her stepmom.” 

Seokjin chuckled, the sound humourless. He shook his head, practically laughing in her face. “I don’t know where you’ve heard that from because it’s not true.” The look on Nana’s face told you she didn’t believe a word he said.  

Seokjin bent down, attention on Arin. He held his hand out, wanting her to take it. “Arin, come here,” he asked, voice gentle, nothing like how he’d spoken to her mother. She let go of Nana’s hand and slowly made her way over. He immediately wrapped his arms around her middle. “Tell daddy where you got that word from.” She still looked afraid, hesitating as she opened her mouth. “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you,” he reassured, stroking her hair. 

“Mommy is.” Arin’s voice shook, one lone tear falling down her cheek. It broke your heart. 

“Mommy isn’t mad at you.” Seokjin’s voice was a murmur, but as he looked up at his ex-wife he had to try his best to sound composed. “Right?” 

Nana stared at him for a moment, her dark eyes piercing through him almost, but he didn’t flinch. Her gaze fell to the back of her daughter’s head, immediately softening, the regret obvious on her face. “No, darling, mommy isn’t mad at you. I’d never be mad at you.” 

Her words comforted Arin, and she looked up at her father, small voice still trembling with emotion as she explained. “Suzie told me that’s what Y/N is because she’s your girlfriend. She has one too.”

Seokjin exhaled slowly. “So, you heard it from your friend?” Arin nodded, and he quickly embraced her, rubbing her back as he soothed her. “That’s okay. No need to be upset.” You heard her sniff into his shoulder, but Seokjin’s attention was already on Nana again. 

“Happy now?” He shot, not giving her any time to reply. “Now get out of my house.” 

“Excuse me?” Her nostrils flared. 

“You heard me. Get the hell out of my house!” 

“Seokjin,” you breathed, reaching for his shoulder. He needed to remember everything he was saying was being heard by his daughter. He might be mad right now but he needed to think of Arin. 

As if Nana realised too, she took control. “Arin, go upstairs to your room and let me talk with your father.” 

Seokjin’s eyes flashed in anger. “Don’t tell her what to do in my home.” Nana scoffed, but Seokjin’s attention was back on Arin. He cupped her face in his hands.

“Sweetie, why don’t you go and play upstairs for a little while, okay? Daddy will come and check on you soon.” She nodded slowly, her tears dried. At least that was a positive. He kissed her cheek and stood up, encouraging her to make her way out of the room and upstairs with a nod. As she passed by you, you gave her a small smile. She returned it. You thought someone should at least accompany her to her room, but you thought best not to suggest it. It wasn’t your place. 

There was silence, a few moments as they waited for Arin to be safely out of earshot. Your heart drummed against your ribcage, still feeling nauseous. This wasn’t over just yet. Nana had no intentions of leaving. 

“Hypocrite,” she scoffed under her breath. 

“What did you say?” Glancing over at Seokjin, you saw his jaw was clenched, his gaze hard, unwavering as he stared at her. 

“I called you a hypocrite.” She sounded unbothered, eyes finding yours. “You don’t know him at all, sadly. You’ll soon find out how miserable he is. How frustrating it is when he always has to right. Mr. Perfect, aren’t you, Jin?” She was trying to rile him up, get a reaction. “Could never do anything wrong.” 

The way she called him Jin made you feel funny. It was so…personal. It had never crossed your mind to use the shortened version of his name. It had always been Seokjin for you. 

“Nice try,” he gave a hollow laugh. “Say what you want, we don’t care.” 

That much was true. Nana’s words wouldn’t make you doubt anything. Your relationship with Seokjin was solid. His relationship with Nana was nothing similar. 

“So when were you planning on telling me?”

Just like that you felt your heart drop, turning to look at Seokjin on instinct. You must have understood wrong. Nana knew about you, right? He’d told her about you, surely? 

“Did you just think you could pretend I didn’t exist?” Seokjin stayed silent, only infuriating Nana even more. “Answer me! How long has it been going on for?” 

“It’s none of your business!” He exploded causing you to jump. You had never once heard him raise his voice. His face was red, his blood pressure soaring. 

“None of my business?!” She cried, laughing in disbelief. His shouting did nothing to deter her. They were used to arguing, you guessed. “It is when my daughter is concerned.” 

It was Seokjin’s turn to scoff. “Oh, so now you care? You’re a joke.” 

Nana’s expression faltered. It took a moment for her to compose herself. “What is that supposed to mean?” Her tone was icy. 

Seokjin didn’t give her an answer. “I don’t owe you anything, Nana. You’re nothing to me anymore.” 

“I’m the mother of your daughter!” She was enraged, her eyes wide as she glowered. “You shouldn’t have kept this from me. I had no clue, Jin!” His indifference infuriated her even more. “Not one! Did you tell Arin to keep quiet?”

That had him biting, face scrunching up at her ludicrous claim. “Of course I didn’t.” 

“Then why,” she demanded, “why was I so oblivious?!” 

“Do I come up in conversation much? Maybe there’s your answer.” Seokjin shrugged. “When was the last time we were in the same room together?”

“Don’t! No, Jin, don’t use that as an excuse.” Nana’s voice wavered, words dotted with an emotion you hadn’t heard yet. 

You felt a pang of guilt. You’d been so oblivious too. Hadn’t realised she had no clue of your existence. You understood her frustrations. It was difficult not to. Seokjin was adamant though. Ruled by his emotions. He couldn’t see his fault. 

“You let our daughter stay with a stranger last weekend!”

But that hurt. 

You weren’t a stranger. You had known Arin for months. You adored that little girl and she liked having you around. You weren’t just anyone. Desperately, you tried to keep it together. Logically yes, you were a stranger to Nana. She had a right to be mad. You knew that. 

Although Seokjin didn’t see it that way, defending you angrily. “Y/N is not a stranger!” 

“To me she is!” Nana shouted. “I didn’t have a clue. What if something had happened to Arin?”

You wanted to say something. To tell her you understood her reservations. Maybe you even wanted to stick up for yourself, but you couldn’t find the words. Guilt was eating you up. 

“Just shut your mouth,” Seokjin hissed. His defensiveness made you nervous. “You don’t care. If you did you would have dropped everything and said yes when I called you.” 

“I was working.” Nana ran a hand through her hair, face patched red. “You think I didn’t want to say yes? I thought you’d just cancel or ask your parents to help out.” Then her eyes fell on you, that familiar sneer on her face. “Instead, you asked her.” 

Taken aback, you opened your mouth, words rushing out. “I’m really sorry you had to find out about our relationship this way, I… I thought–”

“I don’t want to hear it, stepmom.” 

Your cheeks flushed, anger bubbling at her dismissal. She wasn’t even going to hear what you had to say? “I’ve never referred to myself as Arin’s stepmother.” 

She raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “And what if I don’t believe you?” 

Before you could defend yourself Seokjin flew in, in front of you once more. You felt fresh anger, but everything was moving so fast you didn’t know how to place it. “Don’t speak to her like that. God, you’re such a condescending bitch.” 

“And you’re a smug, arrogant bastard.” She shot right back immediately. 

Seokjin scoffed. “Don’t try to deflect. You’ve just heard Arin say she learned that word from a friend. Do you think I’d force my own daughter to lie?” 

Nana stared at him, her breathing laboured with anger. Her eyes flicked to you and then back at Seokjin quickly, a devious smirk spreading across her face. “She’s younger, Seokjin. Having a midlife crisis?” 

Seokjin exhaled slowly, his voice calm as he replied, lips twitching up in amusement. “Your goading won’t work.” 

Although she still tried. “What would Arin’s school think? Knowing you’re fucking your daughter’s teacher.” 

You didn’t take kindly to threats, no matter the situation. Straightening your back you spoke clearly, voice raised a little. “I’m not her teacher anymore and the school already knows.”  

“There’s nothing you can do, Nana,” Seokjin sighed softly, taking your hand. It didn’t feel as comforting as it usually did. “So just let me be happy. It’s the least you can do.” 

That did it. Nana saw red instantly. “Oh, quit playing the victim!” She exclaimed, laughing at his seeming absurdity. You prayed Arin couldn’t hear all the commotion. The house was large enough, the walls thick enough, but who really knew. “Am I not allowed to be mad? You’ve kept this relationship,” she mocked, eyeing your laced fingers, “a secret this entire time. You’ve been playing happy families with my daughter.” There was a beat of silence. “I’m Arin’s mother.” 

“Yes, but that’s all you are.” 

A noise fell from Nana’s mouth. “I know, I know, you hate me. You’ve made that abundantly clear over the years.” 

“I don’t hate you, Nana.” With a sigh, Seokjin let go of your hand, rubbing his temples. “That would imply I still care. I don’t. I stopped caring a long time ago.” 

Nana rolled her eyes. “This again.” You on the other hand were lost. 

Seokjin’s eyes locked on hers, gaze steady, just like his words that seemed to knock you for six. “I stopped caring the moment I found you in bed with another man.”

You probably couldn’t hide the shock from your face, mind reeling, but they didn’t seem to notice. You were barely concentrating on what they were saying anymore. 

“Shut up.” Nana shot, provoking him further. “You never cared, Jin. Never. I did you a favour when I fucked Jaehyun. It gave you the perfect excuse to leave because you were too much of a coward to do it otherwise.” 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night” Seokjin scoffed quietly, but you could tell by his face he was visibly irritated. Maybe. He felt like a stranger right now. “Believe what you want.” 

“I will because it’s a fact.” 

Seokjin’s chest heaved with anger, breathing heavily as he failed to keep calm. “I didn’t leave sooner because I wanted Arin to be happy!” His voice broke with emotion. “I wanted to stay together for Arin’s sake.” 

“And look how bitter that made you.” Nana laughed, her eyes quickly finding yours again, remembering you existed. “Are you taking notes?” She folded her arms across her chest. “This is what will happen. He’ll promise you the world and then a few years later hate your guts.” 

You looked at the floor, unable to rebuff her claims even if you wanted to. Your thoughts slipped to last night, out on the deck… The way Seokjin had held you, gazed at you, the words he’d said... I want to give you the world. It was silly to let Nana’s words sting, but they did, nevertheless. Last night felt like a lifetime ago.

You felt a strong arm embrace you, wrapping around your shoulders as Seokjin held you to him. It did little to comfort you. Your head was whirring, thoughts swarming you. “Y/N is nothing like you, so don’t.” He warned, glaring across at Nana. “Don’t you dare try to compare our relationship to the one I had with you.” 

Nana laughed loudly, her face contorting as she yelled. “What am I like then, Jin? Go on! Tell me! I’m so fucking curious!” 

“You’re a cold, heartless cow who can’t even be bothered to be a mother to her own daughter!” His words flew out as if they’d been impatiently waiting for the opportunity. 

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed in shock, spinning your head to look at him. He was letting his emotions rule his head, so much so, he didn’t even bat an eyelid at your voice, continuing his tirade. 

His arm let you go as he stepped closer to his ex-wife. “Do you know why Arin probably felt so comfortable calling Y/N her stepmom?” It was a question not meant to be answered. “It’s because she’s been there for her these past few months. Where have you been, huh? She’s so used to you cancelling plans that she always expects the worse.” 

You were gobsmacked, unsure what had just left his mouth as you tried to make sense of his words. He couldn’t be comparing you both. He couldn’t be using you to hurt Nana. Right? 

“That’s not fair, I haven’t cancelled in weeks.” Nana’s voice was quiet, a far cry from her earlier volume, and you took a glance, noticing that her wide eyes were shining in the sunlight that streamed through the window. She seemed smaller now, less imposing. 

“Bravo,” Seokjin spat, beginning to slowly clap his hands. “What do you want, a round of applause?” 

“I can’t help it I’m busy with work. That’s why we agreed she’d live with you.” Nana sounded clearly upset now, Seokjin’s words striking a nerve. You couldn’t help but feel bad for her. 

“And I’m not busy?!” Seokjin wasn’t done. “Your excuses don’t work on me. They never have.” 

“I love my daughter. Don’t you dare try to insinuate otherwise.” 

Seokjin wasn’t listening. “You came here just to create a scene. You didn’t think about Arin at all, did you? You made her give you all the details just to twist the knife in. That’s all you care about. You can’t handle the thought of me being happy because you’re so goddamn miserable!” 

“Just come out and say it, Jin!” She shouted, arms out. “You think I’m a terrible mother.” 

With a casual shrug of his shoulders, he replied, “I never said that, but if the shoe fits.” 

The silence that followed was deafening. You could feel your pulse pounding in your ears, a sick feeling turning your stomach. You didn’t want to be here anymore. You didn’t want to be involved in this shouting match. You didn’t want to see your boyfriend this angry, you didn’t want to hear him speak like this. 

Eventually, Nana’s voice pierced through the silence. It wavered but she kept her cool, head held up high. “Well, thank you, Jin. Thank you so much for finally telling me how you feel. How very brave of you. Finally.” 

You watched as she straightened her jacket and smoothed down her hair, and then she took a step forward. She was heading for the door. 

“That’s it?” Seokjin scoffed, his voice hoarse. “You’re leaving without saying goodbye to your daughter?”

Nana didn’t reply, she didn’t even look at him, just carried on walking out of the room. You heard her heels against the tiles of the hallway, steps retreating. 

“You really have no shame!” He called after her as you both heard the front door open, and then it clicked shut. “Fuck!” 

You jumped at the sudden raise of tone, watching him kick the footrest beside the chair across the room in temper. He had his back to you, his shoulders shuddering with his heavy breathing. You swallowed, feeling your throat dry but you couldn’t say anything. This was all new to you. This side of your relationship, this side of Seokjin. Actually, this whole situation was unlike anything you’d been involved in before. You’d had your fair share of relationship drama in the past, that was a given, but this… You were in over your head. This wasn’t about you. This was a situation involving Seokjin and Nana. You didn’t know what to say or do to make it better. In all honesty, you didn’t even want to try. 

“Daddy?” 

The tiny voice from behind startled you both, and you whipped your head around to see Arin in the doorway. Her eyes were pulled wide, worried and confused. It made your heart hurt. A small part of you couldn’t help but feel to blame. 

“Did mommy leave?” She asked, her gaze on her father, who was staring blankly ahead. 

“Yes, she did,” was all he said, stunning you in the process. 

“Seokjin, you can’t just say it like that!” You exclaimed, looking at him properly for the first time. Arin had walked into the room by now, hovering by your side, a hand to her mouth as she flicked her thumbnail over her teeth nervously.   

Seokjin’s eyes met yours, refocusing before something flickered inside of them – realisation. He looked down at his daughter, voice softening instantly. “She had to go home, Arin. Something came up.” 

You could tell by her face she didn’t quite believe him. She was a bright kid, not that you thought Seokjin was undermining her intelligence, but she knew something was wrong and you didn’t think it was fair to just gloss over the issue. 

“Why don’t you watch some cartoons?” He suggested, guiding her to the sofa. “I’ll make you something to drink. What would you like?” 

She gave him a small smile as he passed her the remote control. “Hot chocolate, please.” 

The tiniest of smiles lifted the corners of his mouth too. “Okay, one hot chocolate coming right up.” He turned to you, a hand brushing yours for a brief second, voice low as he asked you a question. “Can you stay with her?”

Your nod was barely there, and you watched him walk out, heading for the kitchen. After a moment’s delay, you joined Arin on the sofa, attention on the television, watching the cartoon characters bounce around the screen, but you were in a world of your own. Arin’s voice’s tore you from it, her question rattling you. 

“Why did she go?” 

“I don’t know.” You hated yourself for lying to her but it wasn’t your place to explain. Especially not now given the circumstances. Your thoughts were captured once more. Nana had been clueless to your existence this whole time. Had you been a fool to assume otherwise? 

“Did they argue?” 

Your eyes fell to Arin’s, wanting to embrace her but thought better of it. You’d have to reassure her another way. With words. If you could. “It’s nothing to worry about, okay?” You smiled, the action stiff. “They’re just a bit angry at one another.” 

“Because of me?”

Her question broke your heart. You shook your head hastily. “Of course not.” 

She didn’t respond, turning back to the TV. She didn’t seem visibly upset, nothing like earlier, but maybe this was worse. She seemed despondent, quiet. You were reminded of when you were a kid, hearing your parents argue nonstop before their divorce. At times you used to feel at fault too. 

“I’m sorry I called you my stepmom, I didn’t know it was wrong.” As she spoke she kept staring at the television, voice quiet. 

“Arin, it’s okay, sweetie,” you told her, this time unable to stop yourself from wrapping an arm around her shoulders. You wanted to comfort her. She needed comforting. “You’ve done nothing wrong at all.” 

You knew what children were like together. The conversation she’d had with her friend had been innocent. She’d had no clue what the weight of such a word could mean, or even do. None of this was her fault. 

You held her for a while, getting consoled yourself almost as well, but time was passing and Seokjin hadn’t come back with her hot chocolate. You glanced at the clock on the wall, he’d been gone fifteen minutes. “I’m going to check on daddy,” you said, pulling away gently. “To see what he’s done with your hot chocolate.” You tried to joke around but your laugh sounded forced. Arin nodded, giving you a tiny smile as you stood up. “I’ll be back soon, okay?” 

You found him in the kitchen, leaning against one of the counters as he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. Arin’s drink wasn’t even half made. Irritation flooded your senses for a moment. You got that he was upset, angry, maybe even a little dazed by the situation, but he still needed to pull himself together and be there for his daughter. Drinking at two o’clock in the afternoon was unacceptable. 

However when he saw you, his expression softened into worry, concern colouring his tone as he asked, “Is she okay?”

You swallowed down your frustration, but once again your mind was beginning to whir. You had so many questions, so many answers that you needed, but now wasn’t the time. He needed to make sure Arin was settled and then you both could talk. 

You walked further into the room, speaking as you went. “She’s upset. She thinks she did something wrong, that’s why you and Nana argued.” 

Seokjin sounded regretful when he sighed. His eyes closed, fingers tightening around the tumbler. “Do you think she heard any of it?”

In a clipped voice you replied. “I hope not.” 

Hearing your tone he opened his eyes, coming to his senses almost. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, placing his drink down on the counter. He moved towards you, a hand ghosting over your back. “Are you okay?” Despite his tone of voice being one you were familiar with, his concern did little to console you. All you could do was nod your head.  

“Don’t take any notice of her, okay?” He continued, his voice slowly changing again. “This is what she does. She pushes and pushes. She can’t stand–”

“Seokjin, enough,” you begged, exhausted. You could hear him becoming more and more irate. 

The hand on your back froze and then dropped to his side. “Are you sticking up for her?” He more or less accused. 

“What?” You looked at him, baffled. “Of course I’m not. You just need to calm down. I know you’re angry but your daughter needs you right now.” 

His features smoothed out and he stepped back, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re right.” He sounded apologetic. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s fine.” You watched as he walked towards the fridge, getting out a carton of milk to pour inside Arin’s mug, chocolate powder waiting. He mixed it together with a spoon and placed it in the microwave, setting the timer. As it whirled around, you spoke again. “We can talk about it later.” 

There was silence as he placed the milk back inside the refrigerator. He closed the door. “Are you mad at me?” 

“No.” 

He didn’t believe you. Turning back he folded his arms across his chest, staring at you. “She’s gotten under your skin, hasn’t she? That’s what she does.” 

You heard yourself sigh. You didn’t want to do this now. Not with Arin just down the hallway. Why was he being so insistent? Your mind flew through the tonne of questions you wanted to unleash his way, but one slipped from your mouth before you could stop it. Before you could even acknowledge your own words. 

“Did she really cheat on you?” 

Seokjin looked taken aback, whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that. Maybe you should have gotten your priorities straight, but stood in front of him right now, you felt deceived. You watched as he gave you a brief nod. Your heart dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He lifted his shoulders, not meeting your eyes. “It wasn’t a big deal.” 

“Not a big deal?” Your voice raised and you willed yourself to keep it down. “It seems like it was the reason you divorced her, Seokjin.” 

The microwaved beeped but you both ignored it. “It was over long before then.” He chuckled humourlessly. “She was right, I was a coward.”

A part of you wanted details but you knew right now wasn’t the time or the place. Besides, you didn’t think he’d share anyway. 

“Is that why you’re mad? Because I didn’t tell you?” He sounded worried, regretful, some other emotions you couldn’t think of right now. 

You sighed softly. “I’m not mad, Seokjin. I’m just… I didn’t know.” 

He went to step forward, to walk towards you but stopped himself. “I’m sorry, I should have told you. Especially with–”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off quickly, not wanting to hear the words you knew he was going to say out loud. You couldn’t bear it. You’d told him about Donghae in a bid to open up – because you trusted him. Why hadn’t Seokjin told you about Nana? You couldn’t help but feel betrayed. You didn’t know if you were being fair or not. 

“I should go and check on Arin,” he said suddenly, moving to the microwave to open it up. “Thank you for taking care of her. It’s more than her own mother could do, and she’s the one who caused this whole mess.” 

“Don’t,” you whispered, closing your eyes. He wasn’t going to do it again. “Don’t do that. Compare us.” Seokjin looked your way, confused now. “I don’t know Nana. I don’t know what your marriage was like, not really, and I don’t know what her relationship with Arin is like. You shouldn’t have said those things to her. She was obviously upset.” 

You understood that people spoke out in anger, that words just flew out, no matter how small the thought was, but it wasn’t an excuse. He was still emotional, but all you wanted him to see was the bigger picture. 

“I don’t care,” he brushed off. “She needed to hear a few home truths.” 

You scoffed. “And you used me to really drive them in, didn’t you?” You continued regardless of his frown. “It’s not a competition. I’m your girlfriend. I’m not even Arin’s stepmother. We haven’t talked about that yet,” – Seokjin went to speak over you but you stopped him with a hand in the air – “and I know Arin made an innocent mistake, but it obviously hurt Nana. She had no clue I existed, Seokjin. Not one!” 

He did look guilty at that, dropping his gaze, but you weren’t done. “You can be mad because of how she acted but you’re also at fault…” 

“I know,” he murmured. “I know that and I’m sorry.” 

You weren’t the only one he should be apologising to, but by now you were too exhausted to keep this up. You couldn’t stay here, not when you were sure it would end in an argument. You didn’t want to fight with him. You needed space to think. On your own. 

“I should go.” You told him, noticing his face wrinkle up in confusion. 

He was in front of you immediately, clutching your hand. “Y/N, wait,” his voice was unsteady, “You don’t have to go. I’m really sorry that I made you uncomfortable.” 

You appreciated his sincerity, and had no doubts that he meant his apology, but it still wasn’t enough to get you to stay. An I’m sorry wasn’t what you needed. It wasn’t as simple as that. 

“Honey, please,” he begged softly. “This is me with all my baggage. I’m not perfect.” 

Your brow furrowed. “I never thought you were, Seokjin.” This wasn’t about your so called flawless vision of him. He was human, just like you. Yes, seeing him mad like that had shaken you up at first but it wasn’t why you were leaving. Nor were you leaving because of the situation. Everyone had a history, or “baggage” as Seokjin chose to call it. It didn’t change how you felt about him. It was all just very overwhelming. 

You put your other hand over his, silently telling him to let you go. Above all else he needed to spend time with his daughter. “Go and check on Arin. She’s waiting for her hot chocolate.” You told him softly.  

He clasped your hand tighter. “Please don’t go.” 

“I just need some space to think.” You admitted. 

He watched you for a moment, eyes glassy – you expected yours were too – but ever the gentleman he respected your wishes and didn’t press you any further, no matter how much he wanted to plead with you to stay. Deep down he probably knew it was the right thing to do. If you stayed now no good would come from it. You could speak about everything when you were both ready. Whenever that was.

With a tight nod he slipped his hand from yours. You gave him a soft smile and turned your back to him. He had no choice but to watch you leave. 

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

[yostresswritinggirl]

Researching...

ZETA

You need to see this first then this

The alchemist had been trying all remedies to shake off the stress and fatigue in his system and they all seemed to fail, no amount of sketching or discoveries can pull him away from it. So when you offered a solution he hasn’t heard, he’d jump at it immediately. “You know, some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever.” “Intercourse? If it’s true, then please, I wish to have intercourse with you.” “Wha- wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!” “Convenient, I love you, anything else?”

Pairing -> Albedo x Female Reader

Word Count -> 2944

Themes -> Smut, PwP, PwF, Woohoo, the "thing", the "do"

Series -> #Bonafide Specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> NSFW CONTENT, DO NOT READ IF YOU'RE UNDERAGED! (this is awkward because you two have no experience, jsyk)

(Z,E)-9,12-tetradecadienyl acetate (TDA, also known as ZETA) are usually emitted by females to attract males for mating. Sex pheromones are defined as odors, produced by either males or females that stimulate one or more behavioral reactions in the opposite sex, bringing the males and females together for the purpose of mating.

The foldered papers at the mahogany desk met with a soft plop at its weight, and you noticed the Alchemist suddenly straighten his back from his spaced out daze on the noise, whipping his head towards where you stand. Albedo's teal eyes were wide from the sudden intrusion, but his eyelids drooped over them once again upon the realization that it was just you who entered as it loses its light once more. This worried you.

The Chief Alchemist of the Knights of Favonius has been in a dilemma recently. And all of Mond knows of this.

Albedo naturally holds himself in a regal and composed aura that draws people to him in admiration and trance. But this Albedo lacks such gait, with shoulders tense and eyebrows furrowed, steps heavy and head hanging low.

He has hit a wall in his never-ending research. And the effect was obvious on him.

Days he'd be cooped up in his laboratory staring at nothing, glaring at his setup. Days he'd be gone beyond the walls with his easel and sketchbook, only to return with unfinished artworks meant to be forgotten. Sucrose had tried placing experiments that are easy to handle and give him at least a sense of self-confidence for solving, but even that cannot pull his mind away from his obstacle.

"You know," leaning on the table with arms crossed, you watched the Kreideprinz drag his foot to where you were, aiming to check on the folder that you just submitted, "Some people say having intercourse with someone is a good stress-reliever." Such words smoothly flowed out of your mouth despite the masked embarrassment you expertly hid through a haughty smirk.

That someone was Kaeya, and that Kaeya threw out that same comment next to you when you two saw Albedo walk through the headquarter's halls like a zombie a few days ago.

The sudden pound of fists on the table at either side of you startled you, expertly caging you in as you looked up. Albedo loomed over you with eyes brightly catching the sun, giving it the luminosity that carried the same curious look he had when faced with the unknown. "Intercourse? If it's true, then please," oh no, "I wish to have intercourse with you."

Excuse me? "Wha-" suddenly, you were hyper-aware of just how close you are to one another. You slightly hiked yourself up against the table, as to preserve what little distance you have. "Wait Albedo, do you not know what that is? It’s only done between lovers!”

And without skipping a beat, he mused, "Convenient, I love you, anything else?" That familiar smirk displayed on his face.

Contrary to his face tho, you greatly contest to Diluc's hair. Really a normal reaction- to this guy suddenly confessing! Your head is already whirling around in confusion and your eyes couldn't set itself straight at him, still mindful of the distance of which reminded you why you were in this predicament in the first place.

Albedo attentively watched your eyes stray to the side as he stands there in silence, seeing it land at the entrance to his laboratory. Ah of course, he thought he'd made a discovery, as he leans away from you to make his way towards the door.

And shut it with a click.

"Wait, wait, why did you lock the door?!" You finally mustered up the courage to speak (breaking away from the shock of his confession) as he finds himself where he stood over you, eyes filled with confusion.

"You were quiet after my confession. I know such moments of romance are intimate and with your eyes, I only wanted to give us privacy," his brows furrowed with confusion before his shoulders dropped, a sharp sigh escaping. "Normally people would express their reciprocation by now," he breathed as he starts pulling back and away, "but voicing your rejection would have been appre-"

Quickly with a yelp, you reached out for his departing form, pulling him back by the grip on his shirt. Albedo's eyes only widened a little as he was quick to grip the table's edge to stabilize himself, one arm wrapped around your waist to ground you. "No! I do- do love you too!" You finally squeezed out the embarrassing confession, "You were just so sudden, it surprised me so much!"

And suddenly he was laughing openly, full of relief and humor, as his shoulders slackened at the validation. The heavy weight on his shoulders eased as if a physical matter left it, the bout of removed tension making him slump on you.

You cradled the tired Albedo in your arms as you let him place his chin on your shoulder. This man is your lover now, you thought as the fact finally dawned on you. The brilliant and most loved in Mond now tied down to you.

Basking in the presence of a person now his, Albedo found himself breathing in. There was a scent to you that always soothes him which now feels emphasized at the closeness. His pupils dilated as his face buries itself closer to the junction where your neck and shoulder meets.

Ah, what was this? Was this the pheromones you once talked about in your research on zoology that attracts those to them? He mused in his mind as those teal eyed fluttered shut, nose brushing at your neck for another whiff.

While Albedo indulged himself with the natural scent of you, you stood there with weak legs, trembling and red from the notions. Oh gods, you whimpered at the feeling of his lips brushing at your skin, you're whipped for this man.

"I'm waiting," you had to hold the shiver when his words vibrated against your neck, "for your answer on my offer, I think it would be good to try." Ah the 'intercourse'. You placed your hands flat on his back as he leans away to stare in attention, and then you finally explained to him what you meant, what you'd do, and what it entails to.

Albedo nods in understanding at your every clause and explanation. And his bright mind understood far too easily how it would help. "We are lovers now," his eyes twinkled at the cute scrunch of your nose upon the embarrassment of the fact, "sooner or later we'd end up doing it anyways. When shouldn't be a matter."

Albedo always make a good point.

With your consent, Albedo slowly lays you on the surface of the table as his other hand makes quick work to swipe away the items that would be in the way, thankfully the carpeted floor prevented anything from breaking. His lips found yours almost naturally as you urged him to take off his coat and you worked on your own, the thoughts spiraling in your head for every clothing that is shed:

Albedo has little to none idea on how sex works between humans, and you had your base knowledge from the things you learned from academics; in short, you're both inexperienced and you are his anchor.

How funny how the master role quickly switched, you thought with an inward laugh before it died in your throat at the sight— he stands there with his undershirt unbuttoned, belt and shorts caught by his knee, and his apparent bulge outlined by his boxers. Your thighs instinctively closed, you don't know what's considered average in size for such things, but you know for a fact there's gonna be some difficulty.

"Is something wrong?" His raw and calloused hands (gloves long gone) softly landed at your squirming thighs, the contact sending a shiver all over. "Am I doing something wrong?"

No, you breathed as you urged him to step closer and settle between your legs at the edge of the table, his form forcing you to spread your limbs apart.

The intoxicating scent that Albedo indulged in earlier was stronger now, drowning him and clouding his thoughts. The waft plunged through his senses so forcefully that he stumbled a bit on you, hips hitting as he grips your sides to keep him steady.

Next came the warmth that touched his sensitive length as it laid between you, the contact had forced out a cute squeak from you and an airy groan from him. His hips buckled to catch the sensation as he finds himself rutting between your folds with ragged breathing.

So good, it felt so good. Albedo finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open from what he now identified to be pleasure, and as he looks up to check on you, you were struggling just the same. Your chest rises and falls in quick successions as you covered your eyes with an arm, whimpers coming out of your slightly parted lips.

Fuck. If only he wasn't so engrossed, he wanted to capture this image through painting. "Am I-," he cleared his throat of the hoarse voice, "Am I hurting you?"

You gasped at the cold and wet feeling swipe from your chin to the corner of your lips, licking the trail of drool you didn't even notice when you opened your eyes to see Albedo's up close. With a shake of your head, you gripped the ponytail of his braid to pull his head for a sudden kiss.

Staggering over your form as your legs hiked up to hook around his waist, you guided the tip of his length to your entrance as he ravaged your mouth without restraint. Lips bruising each other, tongue tracing the underside of yours gingerly before it licks at the roof of your mouth— all the sensations had fogged up your consciousness so badly that you didn't feel an ounce of pain when he finally entered into you, guided by a shy gentleness to his ministrations.

It is only when his tip finally touched the opening of your cervix did you whimper; the way you're being stretched and the fullness of his length in you making you writhe under and around him, the friction only making rousing him more.

Albedo produced a low growl against your lips as he bit down on the bottom one, his trimmed nails digging to your soft-skinned hips as he pins it down. "Stop- nghh- stop moving around so much," a sudden warmth pooled into your stomach as you tightened around him.

Mistake number one: You didn't expect for his gentleness to be gone.

Spurred on by your tightening grip and the pleasure shooting up him everytime his tip came in contact with your edge, Albedo went into a relentless pace, pounding straight into you to hit that spot. Your pants turned into breathless chokes everytime he comes in contact, forcing your raw moans out of you. There's a dull pain by your entrance everytime he grinds against your walls, and he whimpers your name in pure ecstacy every stroke.

Your back arcs as he smacks into you, pulling back halfway through before burying deep into your hole once again. His brutal pace gets sloppy at times, before his strength comes back again to pull you closer. Halfway through Albedo produces a feral growl as he grips one of your legs behind the knee, pushing it closer to your body and slightly angled to the side.

And the moment he thrusts in with the new position, you cried out his name. The tip of his length reached far deeper with this new angle, and had plunged the top right into your cervix— your hips trembled as Albedo's whole body shivers at the new sensation, fingernails digging into your thigh as his other hand intertwines with yours, pinning it down on the table as leverage.

"Ahn," he whispered your name tiredly with tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, for the first time staring at your eyes after he had started, "How are you? Is it okay? Is it..."

Good, you mumbled with a tired smile at his consideration, bumping your hips to emphasize on it- which drew a sharp gasp from the both of you, he was already in so deep, your hips bruised and touching.

He rolled his hips to test out, his thickness rubbing at the walls as he stirs your insides. The sweet moan you produced spurred him on, and he was once again staggering into you, his hips slightly elevated in an angle meant to pierce through you.

The sound of flesh smacking against each other overpowers even your loudest moan as Albedo pleasured himself inside you desperately, the smell of sex filling your sense of smell. He chases the way your hole drips and wafts with the scent, drawing in a huge breathe whenever your mixed cum spills past his tightly locked dick in you.

And soon his pace became more desperate and short, as he makes quick work at hitting you in your most sensitive part to barely give you time to gasp for air. Your walls clenched down on him so tightly as you came, a cry of his name passing your lips as your back arched—

the pressure made him buckle and he thrusts in deep one last time, tip breaking past your cervix, as his climax enters you in thick strings of warmth.

That was mistake number two: you didn't bring protection with you.

But at that moment you couldn't care less (your cycle just ended anyways, you should be fine), watching him whimper your name in full pleasure as his teeth grinds against each other, his forehead and eyebrows knit and furrow as he releases before it relaxes after he is done.

And then he falls face first to your chest, the renowned Alchemist running out of the minimal stamina he had with him. Buried between the valley of your breast, Albedo had the most serene (almost drunk) expression on his face, lips pressed against the skin over your heart where it beats with fervor from your activity.

He tested another experimental thrust, lighter this time, as he felt your mixed fluids moved around the tiny space. You gave a wailing moan at his action, and he breathlessly laughed at your reaction.

Albedo stayed in you and on you for a few more minutes after that. Still trying to regain strength as your tired pants became the white noise that night.

"Albedo..." he hums against your chest as his arms tightened around your waist, enjoying the peace your hands brought to him as you stroke his cheek. "Albedo, I need to clean up." He jests that you should just keep it in you and you responded with rapid pats, whining at the notion. He chuckles.

It took him a lot of willpower to get up and he made it obvious as hell, taking his time to remove himself off your chest, grumbling that his bed was complaining too much. You let out a cute snort before smacking his arm. Albedo grips your hips as he gently pulls out when he stops suddenly, realizing that the liquids would pour out and make an obvious mess if he were to do so.

His head passes around the immediate area as he pinpoints a peculiar object, plucking it from its plastic package, still new from the bubble wrap. A sharp gasp suddenly comes by you at the cold and hard sensation that replaced Albedo inside you, only a few inches deep as the Alchemist walks off to get tissues. Wary, you looked down to see the object, choking out when you saw its end sticking out past your crotch:

A test tube, pristine and clean, was preventing the fluids from dripping out of your hole.

When Albedo came back with the tissues and spare cloth in hand, he muses at how your deep red face was smacked tightly against your palms. He offers to clean up, a gentle hand carefully pulling out the tube, but you refused and got quick work on yourself. That was enough embarrassment for tonight.

Unbeknownst to you with your busied self, Albedo held the glass vial in close inspection and curiosity. The translucent white liquid barely blocks the night light and produced the same strong scent he'd been chasing the whole night— he sticks his tongue out to taste, ah, slightly salty and sticky.

Albedo wonders what kind of experiment he can do with this.

The obvious lift on the shoulders of the Chief Alchemist was greatly acknowledged by everyone in town who were aware of the impasse the young man had troubled himself with for the past few days. The bags under his eyes were gone, and the tealness he has shined with newfound vigor. Besides the mood shift, many of the knights had also noticed the time spent between the two of you. Missions and expeditions were always coinciding with each other and people barely saw you separated, giggling and smiling to yourselves in your pink world.

One day they finally found out about your relationship when a knight barged in to his laboratory for an urgent matter. Blurting out the Chief Alchemist's name before he realized that you were there, lips locked against each other.

The news spreads fast with that little detail and everyone congratulated you on your relationship.

Behind your bashful smiles, you and Albedo sighed in great relief, thankful to the archons that the knight didn't took notice of your hand under his big white coat that time.

This turned out like this cuz alchemy boy very new to things u_u and little stamina, he needs to exercise more ehe-

@creation-magician @dandelion-dreams @zelos-simp @struggljng @youroffical-weirdo @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #genshin impact x reader #exile.flower #genshin impact albedo #albedo x reader #Albedo #not for children #bonafide specials #aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #author.exe stopped working #author scared #*glares* part two will wait a lil longer #female reader