#it is not the mask his lord gave him!!!! a false mask!!!

[readychilledwine]

Drumming Song

Summary - 49 long years without your mate finally comes to an end after Amarantha grants him one night of freedom

Warnings- smut, rough oral (mrecving), shadow play, slight angst, impact play, power play, mention of sex magic, occational capitalized word where there shouldn't be (I think I caught them all)

A/N - Listen... there's potential for this to have a second part under the mountain where reader is Rhysand's whore

“Behave,” Tamlin gripped your chin gently. “Pick wisely and preferably from the guard, y/n.”

Lucien snorted behind you, having been the male you had picked the last four Calanmai. You two figured the magic would lead you to him again. A strong, high born male and heir was the obvious choice for the night.

Tamlin looked at Lucien, “Stay near her.” The red-headed male nodded. Gently reaching for your hand to accompany you to the Fires as Tamlin began the Rite.

“What are the odds dearest daring Feyre stays in her room?” You linked your arm to Lucien, leaning into him and staring up at his beautiful face hidden by that fox mask.

“For her sake, she better,” he sighed heavily. “I'd really prefer not to watch your brother and my closest friend fuck my mate.” The stark reminder had your toes curling, thinking of your own mate trapped under that damned Mountain. “Oh you have got to be kidding me,” Lucien looked to the sky, whispering a soft prayer to the Cauldron. “I'll be back.” He motioned with his head towards where Feyre stood with a male.

You shook your head, laughing as Lucien went to her, and the male walked away as he approached. You continued your pathway to the forest, enjoying the feeling of grass on your bare feet.

An almost feline like presence had you pausing as a familiar feeling began to set into your stomach. Calloused hands ran up your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they then moved your hair to the side, “Hello, y/n Darling,” the purr had shivers running your spine as a combination of shocked chill and the heat of the magic began to truly set in.

His scent hit you then causing that faint drumming sound to increase rapidly. Citrus and sea salt mixed with what you knew was the lingering scent of Amarantha.

“What are you doing here, Rhysand?”

You felt him smile into your neck, “Rhysand? Darling, I thought we were way past that?”

It took every fiber in your being, every single ounce of strength you had, but you managed to pull away from him, walking away as you shook him off despite the rhythmic pounding indicating you had Found your partner for the night.

With every footstep away, he took two near, and the drumming grew louder. “If you need to know, I was allowed off my leash tonight to check in.”

You scoffed slightly, picking up pace to head toward your greenhouse, your safe haven. “You mean to drag whomever the poor female Tamlin picks for the night to the false queen to be tortured and murdered?” It was no secret that once every 5 years Amarantha had sent one of the crueler high lord or an Autor to Spring for the poor maiden picked from Calanmai.

Rhys was smirking behind you, knowing you were engaging in a game of chase with him, smiling to himself and knowing he would win. “I do have that unfortunate privilege, yes.” He paused, allowing you to get several paces ahead of him.

Thick silence fell between you two. The air was heavy with magic, with arousal, with the sound of moans and cries while fire cracked distantly in the background.

You had to get away from him before you gave in, caving to every sick whim and desire he had. You took one deep breath, memorizing His scent one more time, and then ran.

Rhys laughed distantly in the background, giving chase to you and easily following every calculated twist and turn.

He caught you exactly where he knew he would, shutting the door to the completely glass greenhouse behind him and locking it.

You felt him grab your wrist, spinning you and walking you to one of the empty walls. His forehead found yours. Those star flecked eyes almost blown out with lust but still somehow sparkling.

The cold glass of the greenhouse met your back as Rhysand held your wrists above your head. "Why are you running from me, little spider lily? As much as I enjoy a game of cat and mouse, we both know my time here is limited."

The heat from Calanmai's magic had begun to spread over your skin, causing the need to be breed, to find some relief to surface. "Tamlin will kill you if he finds you here."

Rhys smirked, his face getting closer to yours, "Your brother was a little preoccupied with a pretty little dark-haired thing in the cave," Soft lips trailed your neck. "And now there's no one else here to save you from me."

He had leaned in so close each syllable was a soft brush of his lips on yours. “Amarantha-” you started softly.

“Will think I fucked you to irritate Tamlin. Nothing more. Nothing less.” Your eyes fluttered shut, relaxing as cool tendrils of darkness began to explore the high slits of your skirt.

Rhys began placing soft kisses along your jawline, hands moving down from your wrists to memorize each inch of skin. One hand stopped on your neck, holding there and squeezing gently. “You should be allowed to wear clothing like this more often. Makes you look like an actual female. Not some cupcake Tamlin had hand decorated.”

You blinked at the lack of clothing you were in. A dress that dipped low in the front with a non-existent back, two large slits that ran both legs up to your hipbones. The fabric was so light that a soft breeze would expose you easily.

“I enjoy my cupcake skirts sometimes. Easy to hide things in,” your mind immediately went to before the Bond between you two snapping, when Lucien had first come to Spring and used sex As a coping mechanism. He and Tamlin had an argument, and he had hidden the table and then under your many layered skirts and ate you out with Tamlin sitting right there.

Rhysand's eyes grew dark, his hand squeezing your throat harder. “You will never think of another male between those pretty thighs once I'm done with you.”

Rhysand brought your lips to him harshly this time. The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue, leaving you breathless as he began ripping that now offensive dress off.

Without warning, Rhysand turned you, locking your hands behind your back with one hand and forcing your breasts and cheek against the cold glass.

You jumped, gasping loudly as a smack came against your ass. Then another and another leaving you wiggling and moaning. Rhys landed another hard smack, massaging the tender sore skin once he was done and just watched you drip.

You were soaked, and he only made it worse as he ripped your hair back, forcing your back to arch more. “Try to remember I love you, and this, instead of whatever happens when you are dragged under than damn mountain,” it was a soft plea followed by a kiss placed on your temple.

“Always,” you whispered.

“Get on your knees for me,” you could hear him untying his pants, the desperation in his tone. You turned, following his order and trailing your hands down his thighs.

Rhys was quick to collect your wrists, slamming them on the wall behind you and above your head. The position left you completely defenseless as his free hand positioned his cock in front of your lips. “Open.” An easy order to follow again, your eyes meeting his as he pushed in. You hummed at the weight of him on your tongue, the saltiness of his skin. You tried to bob your head, only to be forced to stay in place.

Rhysand just smirked before pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

And now it was clear. He had no intentions of allowing you an ounce of control.

This was his therapy.

His needed release from the horrors he was suffering silently to earn her favor. To keep his court safe. To keep you safe.

Rhys was gentle at first, allowing you to keep up and breathe, tongue running the length of the vein and swirling the head when the opportunity came. That gentleness went out the window once Rhys saw an attor lurking the grounds, and he growled. “I love you,” he whispered one last time. You nodded, swallowing around him, and did the best you could to relax.

He began fucking your throat like you were no more than a doll to him, a lifeless object He could use and abuse. He smiled and moaned with each gag, cock feeling heavier on your tongue and twitching as more spit began to gather at the corners of your mouth. Mascara had begun to run down your face with your tears from the burn and lack of oxygen. "What a pretty mess," he moaned out.

Rhys threw his head back, groaning your name like a prayer as he continued using and abusing you.

You felt something cold running around your thighs and then something running the length of your core. You knew if you stood, there would be a damp spot on the floor. You were twitching and clenching around nothing, eyes locked on the absolute bliss etched into Rhysand's face each time you hallowed your cheeks or swallowed.

You moaned around him as one of those tendrils gently began to play with your clit, offering some relief as he held you with his cock all the way inside of your throat.

“Keep fucking looking at me,” his hand moved from your hair to your throat. Feeling his cock settled in there, feeling you swallowing and attempting to breath around him. “My perfect good girl,” he was breathless himself, pulling back out before going back to his ruthless onslaught of thrusts mixed with prolonged deep throating.

Between his pleasure steady humming down the bond, the snake like darkness dancing around your entrance and clit, and the visual display of Rhysand with his brows knit in pleasure and mouth opened softly, you felt that coil tightening inside of you more and more. “Almost fucking there, y/n,” he panted, your name rolling off his tongue like a deep purr. “Fuck!”

He came from you, whining as that coil began to teeter on a knife edge. Rhys spilled down your throat, “Don't fucking swallow yet. Don't you fucking dare.” He pulled out slightly, working his length with just the tip in your mouth to ensure every drop of him sat waiting.

He pulled out, breathing heavily, “Open your mouth.” Your obedience had his cock twitching, his mind wishing he had time to truly take you, to taste you. He smiled at the sight of his seed lingering in your mouth before leaning down and spitting on your tongue. He forced your jaw shut, kneeling down before you, a hand taking place between your thighs and two fingers entering you.

“Swallow,” he commanded as he began fucking you with his fingers. Scissoring them pressing them, pushing deeper and deeper until he found the spot that had your head thrown back, whining out his name as electricity and warmth shot through your body.

You heard him growl as a thumb found your bundle of nerves, moving in time with his thumb. Your hips began to unknowingly move, riding those two fingers inside of you and chasing your pleasure. “Rhys! Fuck! Please.” You began to beg, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, a mantra one would wake themselves to in the morning.

You couldn't respond, mouth set in a small o, whimpers and moans becoming all you knew as he played your body like his own personal harp. “Cum,” you screamed then, flowers in the greenhouse going from small buds to full blooms as you reached and fell over your peak.

You felt him leaning into your ear. “When I buy you under the mountain, I'm going to fuck you infront of every single fae there. Marking you as mine over and over.” He pulled his fingers out, landing a quick slap to your sensitive pussy before pushing his fingers back in. “You won't even remember your name when I'm done with you down there.”

He worked your core through it, praising you with soft kisses as he kept an eye on Amarantha's creature that had caught his scent. He pulled his fingers from you, holding them to your mouth and watching from his lashes as you eagerly cleaned them.

He released your wrists, pulling his fingers from your mouth, and held eye contact with you. “I have to go,” his voice broke as he said the 4 words you'd been dreading. “I love you. I know I've told you several times tonight, but I love you y/n Darling.”

You nodded, trying to blink the tears away, “I love you too.”

He nodded, kissing you deeply before pulling back and resting his forehead against yours. “I'll see you soon.”

It was a statement that filled you both with dread and a sick sense of joy. Dread for being trapped there, one more tool to use for Tamlin's torment. Joy at the idea of being with Rhys.

He sighed, leaving the greenhouse as you noticed the creature approaching and leaving with it after motioned towards the cave you knew Tamlin's maiden would likely be resting in.

You felt one last tug on the bond. One small ounce of sorrow of longing.

Then it fell silent and cold.

Just like it had been for 49 long years.

💜 General taglist 💜 - Remember to shoot me a message or comment if you would like to be on my general taglist or a tag list for a specific character

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhysand acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhys x reader #rhys x you #rhysand x you #rhys x y/n #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x tamlin sister!reader

[milswrites]

The world belongs to dreamers

~ Rhysand X Reader

Summary: Whilst struggling to cope with the loss of his mother and sister, you show Rhysand what it means to dream once more.

Warnings: Serious angst (loss of family) but a fluffy/hopeful ending?

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

You spoke the words softly, afraid to startle the young High Lord as you slowly approached him from behind. Rhysand providing you with no sign of acknowledgement as you came to sit beside him on the roof of the Town House.

Rather, the males expression remained as cold as stone. His empty violet eyes free from the shackles of human emotion as Rhysand icily stared off into the vast oblivion of the night sky.

You were sat beside a broken man.

One who had lost everything; everyone. He was a male who had nothing left to live for and yet that was exactly what was expected of him - to continue living. The sweet kiss of death being a mercy that Rhysand would not be allowed to receive, not whilst he had his duty to the court.

It was impossible to know what to say in the face of grief and you were certain that whatever meagre words of comfort you could provide Rhysand would fall deaf upon his ears. Besides, what was there to say that hadn’t already been spoken?

And so you offered him the only thing you could think of; your company. A silent companion in Rhysand's time of need. You wouldn't allow yourself to be the one to lure him into a false state of happiness with empty hope and useless reassurances. You would be a grounding presence, an open ear. Silently shouldering your friend’s burden to help carry the weight of his sorrows alongside him.

It took an hour for Rhysand to notice you, a seconds glance in your direction accompanied by grunt of acknowledgement before he cast his chilling gaze back to the stars. Then another hour of silence was needed before he could find the words to speak to you and when he finally did, it was difficult to ignore the way your heart shattered at the rawness of his vulnerability.

"They're really gone, aren't they?"

It was a question with only one answer, yet it was one you couldn't speak. Rhysand needn't hear the truth because he had already seen it. Your friend having witnessed the unthinkable, having seen things that no son - no brother - should ever have to see.

Rhysand's brows knitted together at your failure to answer him, turning his violet eyes back to the stars in defeat. A low growl rumbling in his chest as he finally allowed his festering anger to consume him, the darkness which plagued his splintered soul breaking free from its constraints.

"It should have been me" he hissed, a bitter mask of fury marring his handsome features. Rhysand's usually bright eyes now dark and unforgiving. Despite the fact his wings were hidden, you didn’t fail to notice the daunting presence of shadows which commanded your attention in their absence.

All you could do was helplessly shake your head in disagreement, tears beginning to sting your eyes as you pathetically replied, "You don't mean that Rhys, not really."

An empty laugh escaped from his lips, the rolling of his eyes a stab to your heart as he retorted, "My mother is dead. My sister is dead. My Father. . . Are you going to stand there idly and foolishly believe that everything is ok? There's nothing left for me now but ruins. I have no one.”

“You have me” you answer, pained eyes meeting Rhysand’s own lost ones, a hurt whimper leaving your mouth before you continued, “And Cassian, Azriel, Mor. Rhys you’re never alone, not as long as you have us.”

His shaky sigh and wavering shadows gave you the confidence to continue, “This isn’t what she’d want Rhys. What they’d want. Feel, allow yourself that. But don’t allow your emotions to destroy you.”

The violet glow began to return to his eyes, the anger now seeping away as a heart wrenching wave of devastation took its place.

Rhysand’s hollow voice replied, “But we’ll never know what she wanted because of him. We’ll never know what she could have become or what she might have offered the world. Every night I look to the stars and all I can think is that it’s a sight she will never be able to see again, all because it was stolen from her, and it’s not fair.”

“It never is” you comfort, coming to rest a soothing hand on the males shoulder causing his rising tide of shadows to finally dissipate, “Rhys she needn’t look to the stars anymore because she is one. They’re up there, your family, watching over you, all you have to do is look up.”

“And what if they don’t like what they see. What if they look down and only see the broken High Lord and his broken court” Rhysand consciously asked, spitting the cursed words out as he cast his eyes to the glowing city before him.

“Is that what you see?” You questioned, wondering how Rhysand could look down upon the illuminated streets and see anything but hope, “a broken court?”

“All that’s left after the war are crumbling foundations and hollow people” he bitterly scoffed, failing to see the embers which still remained.

“Foundations can be rebuilt. . . Rhys I look at you and I fail to see how our future could be anything other than bright. Build a court of dreamers Rhys, build it from hope.” You encouraged, fighting the desire to drop to your knees and beg for the future you knew only the male had the power to deliver.

“I don’t think I know how to dream anymore” he quietly spoke, words releasing as a whisper, Rhysand afraid that his lack of dreaming made him unworthy of being your High Lord.

“You really see no future for your court?” You ask, probing eyes searching his thoughtful expression for answers.

“I used to. . . Before all this. But I’ve never had to dream of a future without my sister” he gulped, pearlescent tears beginning to run down his gaunt cheeks.

You lifted a comforting hand, gentle thumbs working to brush away each tear as they came, a sad smile taking its place on your lips as you spoke, “You really think she won’t be there Rhys? Your family will never leave you, they’ll always be right here,” your hand moves to rest against his chest, delicate fingers pressing right above the steady beating of his heart, “carry them with you and they’ll never be far away.”

“And the dreams?” He presses, seeking more reassurance from you, “when will they return?”

“You never stop dreaming Rhys, not whilst there’s still hope. . . Take a breath” you order, entwining both your hands with his own as Rhysand did as you asked and drew in a deep breath, “Then just close your eyes and dream.”

“Dream? Just like that?” He nervously queries, not quite believing in your unusual methods, yet fearing he’d break the spell by opening his eyes.

“Think of everything you’ve ever wanted to change about this court, about your life. Every stupid rule you’ve never liked, every choice of your fathers you’ve disagreed with. The world is yours to mould now, every wish, every dream, they’re yours to chase after. Dreams are the foundations for our future Rhys, you just have to have the courage to make them a reality. All you have to do is believe in yourself.”

“And do you?” Rhysand asked, opening his calm violet eyes to look deeply into your own, “. . . Believe in me.”

“The world is full of dreamers Rhys, but there's only one I’d choose to follow" you answer honestly, your reply bringing a small smile to the new High Lord's lips.

"And if I tell you I dream of building this future together, what then?" he asks hopefully, his steady gaze overflowing with anticipation of your response.

"Then who am I to deny you of your wishes? You just let me know when you're ready to start."

You grin at the familiar face smiling back at you, the face of your High Lord, of your friend. Failing to quell the fluttering which grew in your stomach as Rhysand answered you, "I think we've already started Darling, my first dream just came true."

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

Notes: Every time I write Rhysand I always say it’s going to be smut next and it’s always angst… anyways, smut next time?

Big thank you to @illyrianbitch and @sarawritestories for their help with this one, they saved me from describing Rhysand’s eyes like aubergines 😬

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand angst #rhysand x reader #rhysand imagine #rhysand fanfic #rhysand acotar #rhysand

[paimonial-rage]

symbiosis - ayato

[random writing event] | requested by @andromeda-nova-writing

“My lord,” you began, “With all due respect, this is exactly why the new interns never last long.”

Ayato hummed in thought as he made his way down the halls of Tenshukaku. Upon his face was his usual smiling expression, a mask he learned early on in his career as Yashiro Commissioner. And there you were a few steps behind him as was proper for retainers.

“Is that so?” He replied with mock curiosity. “I can’t say I saw anything wrong with how the meeting went. Such is normal for the course of the commission, after all.”

He didn’t have to turn around to know you were shaking your head in exasperation.

“With all due respect, supporting you through seven financial meetings, four meetings with the branch families, thirteen inspections, and eight financial reports due by the end of the week would make even a competent worker cry.”

He nodded with a hand against his chin in thought.

“Yes, not even I expected they would break out into tears.”

“Excuse my forwardness, but any normal person would have learned to expect it by now. Perhaps it would be prudent to schedule a visit with the doctor to check your memory, my lord.”

He chuckled.

“The way you find such things to say is fascinating. Perhaps I should assign more work to devote more of your creative mind to.”

There was silence for a few seconds.

“My apologies, my lord. Unfortunately, my schedule is completely full. Perhaps another time.”

As he continued to his next engagement, Ayato couldn’t help but find it amusing the back and forth you both often had. You were a spy, after all, and not one of his. That being said, you were not anyone else’s either, much less one of his enemies’. You infiltrated the Yashiro Commission and worked your way up to his side based purely on personal motives.

Though it was well known he placed loyalty and trust above all else, you were a bit of a special case. A bit of research into you revealed you were from a fallen family subordinate to the Hiiragi clan. Through corruption and intimidation, your father was framed for bribery and theft and was thus executed by the Shogun herself. It would make sense that you, as the only child of the family, wanted revenge.

Thus, it was a smart move on your part to align yourself with the Yashiro Commission. As Ayato had connections and leads from all over Inazuma, as long as you remained by his side, you gained access to all the information you could ever need. As to why he didn’t expel you the moment he learned of your difference in loyalty? Your enemies were the same as his, but ones he couldn’t touch. It served him just as well that you would get rid of them.

Besides, he had to admit your company was much appreciated. You performed your duties effectively and efficiently without room for complaint. And though you had a tongue on you, it gave a reprieve from all the false smiles and niceties he had to endure on a daily basis. Dare he say it, he enjoyed being around you. It made him wonder…

“And once that time comes that you’re finally free, what will you do then?”

Would you leave, finally able to live your life for yourself?

He didn’t have to wait long for your response.

“I’ll devote my everything to you, my lord.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that came to his lips.

“Then I shall hold you to it.”

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #my writing #kamisato ayato #ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #writing event #request #andromeda-nova-writing #this is a loose sequel/prequel to my ‘telling them off’ short fic for ayato from a while back #it’s not the best but if i stare at it any longer i’m gonna keep fiddling with it orz

[trans-witch-bitch]

Feelin' Good

Author's note: This is a song-fic(?) based on Feeling Good by Michael Buble, Leo x Reader

Warnings: Gun mentions, murder mentions, I think that's it let me know if there are others I should add

Gn!Reader

Leo scanned the ballroom, filled with humans in fancy, feathered masks and beautiful outfits. He and his brothers, of course, were no exceptions. They were donned with cloaking broaches, giving the false appearance of human to mask their normal mutant selves. They were here on business, attempting to find the new distributor of anti-mutant weapons that had surfaced. The person they were looking for was rumored to be a ruthless crime lord, who had a longer kill count than any other. Because of this, Leo had insisted he and his brothers stay undercover and hidden, to ensure they didn’t get hurt. They just had to get information, and get out. Easy, right?

Leo walked by table after table, holding a martini in one hand, his other shoved into his pocket. He would linger by each table, getting a sample of the conversations before moving on. His brothers were in different areas of the ballroom, doing something similar to find their villain. Leo went to a new table, a small, sinking feeling in his stomach rising as he approached it. There was a person at this table that gave him a nauseating feeling of.. Familiarity. Like he knew this person, though he couldn’t see their face. The person was wearing a deep blue mask, darker than the one Leo himself wore, but similar still. As Leo approached, the stranger stopped talking for a moment to give a slight, flirtatious smile at him.

“I don’t suppose you’ve come to do business with me as well, handsome. Either that, or you’re just a nosey nancy.” The stranger teased flirtatiously before turning back to the other men at the table. “We will continue this later, gentleman. I grow tired of all this business talk. This is my party afterall, I want to enjoy this.” They said, turning back again to Leo. They held out a hand for Leo to shake.

“They call me Viper. Though, if you’re lucky, you can call me anything.” They winked, shaking Leo’s hand firmly. Leo stood there for a moment, trying to process what just happened as Donnie’s voice suddenly sounded in his ear.

“Leo, that’s our guy. Keep them talking, keep them engaged. We need to try and get some information.” Donnie said quickly. Leo looked down at the other, his signature smirk forming on his face as he did his best to remain casual.

“Viper’s a pretty badass name.. I’m… Jim.” He lied lamely, trying to think of the first name that came to mind… which of course was Jupiter Jim. He mentally slapped himself as the other hummed in response. Their voice was so… familiar to him. Everything about this person was familiar to him. He stared down at them, trying to get a better look at the face hidden under the mask. Suddenly, he was interrupted as you started pulling him towards the stage.

“Well, Jim,” They started, taking his other hand and smirking up at him confidently. “You wouldn’t be against dancing with me, would you? I would normally have danced with someone else, but.. I don’t think they’d like how… bad parties like this can get, if you catch my drift.” They winked, starting to slowly dance as a song he had sworn he’d heard before played in the background.

Dragonfly out in the sun, you know what I mean, don’t you?

Butterflies all havin’ fun, you know what I mean

Sleep in peace when the day is done, that’s what I mean

And this old world is a new world, and a bold world

For me

For me

Viper suddenly looked up at him with a hum on their lips “I don’t recognize you, Jim. Are you part of a local family, or are you here for business?” They asked, twirling with him a bit and moving towards the main stage where the band played.

Leo answered quickly, the lies coming a bit easier to him now. “I’m here on business. I heard about some.. Special weapons you might be able to sell me, and was hopin’ to get a couple orders of ‘em.”

Viper chuckled deeply, smirking up at the other “Tell you what. After this dance, I’ll give you a sample of ‘em.”

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel

The scent of the pine, you know how I feel

Oh, freedom is mine, and you know how I feel

It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life

As the music reached its peak, Viper reached up and grabbed the microphone. They stared Leo directly in the eyes, that damned smirk still on their face as they sang,

“It’s a new dawn,

It’s a new day,

It’s a new life, for me

And I’m feelin’

Good”

As they let the last note drag out, Leo suddenly understood why he had such a sinking feeling, why he felt like he knew them, why he felt so out of place by their smile. This wasn’t just any person, it was you! Their friend they’d known for 2 years, the one who only knew them in these human forms, the one who always was out of town or away for work, the one they had let into their lives. The one Leo was in love with.

You finished the song and set the microphone down, pulling Leo away to a nearby table to talk now that your dance was done. “So, you want some weapons, huh, hotshot? I’ll give you one as a sample, and you can always come back to me for more.” You winked, pulling a pink pistol from behind your back. You slid it across the table, along with a card that said ‘The Viper’ on it with a phone number.

“Oh, and call me if you ever want to dance again. Here, or somewhere else.” You winked, before walking off down the hall. Leo stared at you as you left, Raph and Donnie both talking in his ear to try and get him to leave, but he stood there frozen as you walked away, with no clue it was him or that he knew it was you.

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

Author's note: This was like 3 pages on my Google Doc, but it doesn't seem that long... I have an idea for a part 2 or even a more extended series based on this idea, let me know if you'd be interested! Thanks for reading!

#tmnt #rottmnt #rottmnt x reader #rottmnt leo #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt leonardo #x reader #tmnt x reader

[sleepingdeath-light]

A request where resder is taken hostage by one of the tourist and Vincent has to save them. The reader gets stabbed and Vincent get revenge. Fluff/angst. Reader also lives.

Injured S/O Headcanons | Vincent Sinclair

thank you for requesting, anon!

reader is assumed as gender neutral

warnings for descriptions of gore/murder/violence

it was all so routine — so perfectly and mind-numbingly predictable that he could surely have done it all with his eye closed and one hand tied behind his back

it was all so routine when lester brought the hitchhikers into town early in the morning when the sun was just starting to crest (four of them at his first count)

it was all so routine when bo greeted them at the gas station and gave a cursory look over their damaged vehicle that lester had so graciously towed into ambrose — looking at it as though he were using fresh eyes and hadn’t sabotaged it that night

it was all so routine when lester ushered two of the girls over to the wax museum and he heard their aimless chatter overhead as they admired the cumulative work of himself and his dear mother

it was all so routine when they trapped those girls and as he turned them into masterpieces — the blonde into a marilyn monroe type and the ginger into a guitarist with a spare instrument he found laying around his workshop

it was all so routine when bo called him to the main house and told him where the remaining visitors were (a couple, he’d said, how romantic)

it was all so routine until bo missed his first shot and the man went barrelling down the hall and out of the house, taking his girlfriend (or was it fiancée? who was he kidding, he didn’t care) with him

then they both had to belt it out of the maze of corridors and to the car, with bo clumsily speeding down the twisting roads that led to the main body of ambrose — himself awkwardly aiming and shooting with a hunting rifle

(an arrangement that he would later describe through signs as stupid because he only had one eye and had never used a gun in his life, you idiot)

but none of that bickering mattered when they finally caught sight of the couple — and the human shield they’d made of you after you came running out of the station to see what was going on

the woman was hiding behind her partner, streaks of cheap mascara running down her cheeks as she cowered in his shadow

the man, meanwhile, had one arm wrapped around your middle, pinning your arms in place, whilst the other held a dirty knife to your neck (or was it a switch blade? it wasn’t like he was paying the weapon much attention)

he’s shouting out threats of harm to you and despite your protests and insistence that you’re fine, he can see the fear in your eyes and vincent is fucking furious

bo’s trying to reason with him, giving false promises of letting him and his missus go, but the man (smarter than he looks, apparently) refuses and demands they hand over their weapons and tell them where “the other one” is

and neither of them comply with either command because (1) they’re not stupid and (2) lord knows where lester went the man’s an enigma on the best of days and they weren’t exactly keeping track of their baby brother in the middle of a killing spree

but that’s when you start fighting, managing to knee him in the groin and get out of his grip as he falls to the ground

his girlfriend (fiancée? wife?) however wasn’t harmed and quickly grabbed the blade and stabbed it straight into your back — thankfully missing anything too major but sending you to the ground with a painful thud nonetheless

and that’s when they strike, barrelling the car towards the pair and knocking them both to the floor as vincent jumps out to tend to you

he’s furious, enraged — of fucking course he is, they just tried to use the love of his life as leverage and one of them hurt you, why wouldn’t he be pissed? — but he’s also distraught and worried sick

you’re hurt because of him and he’ll be damned if he let this go without retribution — even if you continue to stroke the side of his mask and assure him it’s not his fault as you bleed out on the dusty main road of ambrose

he only lets go of you once the two attackers were confirmed knocked-out by bo and once lester was there to get you to hospital (with the latter nearly in tears from worry as he drove you away with a fake story about an attempted robbery gone wrong… or something like that)

and when it came time for him to deal with the people that hurt you? well he knew that they weren’t going in the museum so he had no reason to go easy on them

in fact, he and bo made sure that they were in agony each and every second between the moment they woke up and when they died — only giving them that release once lester had brought you home from the hospital a few days later

and after that he refused to leave your side unless he absolutely had to; tending to your every need and waiting on you hand and foot as you recovered — promising you that as long as he lived he would never let anyone hurt you again

a statement that you, of course, believed

#sleepingdeath #gender neutral reader #angst headcanons #slasher angst #fluff headcanons #slasher fluff #slasher x you #slasher x reader #tw violence #vincent sinclair x reader

[newbordeaux]

🐳🐀🐳🐀🐳🐀🐳🐀 dis ho nored oc infodump ft info which most of my older followers probably know already (or not you never know) but here they are...

first... some pinterest links to soak in the vibes:

[Georgina] [Josephine] [Lenore]

GEORGINA RIDLEY

Born in Dunwall in the month of hearths 1808. Her parents were Dr. Cornelius Ridley, the royal physician before Sokolov & friend to Euhorn Kaldwin, nobleman and unethical doctor 💕, and Lady Eugenia Mancini, a society beauty and the daughter of the Serkonan ambassador to Gristol. Their marriage was quite the scandal at the time, a renowned doctor and a SERKONAN.. shocking 😔

Cornelius' younger brother Lawrence, a jealous little loser who was also scandalized by the fact that a serkonan was living in his family home, started a rumor that Cornelius (present for the birth of Euhorn Kaldwin's second now dead baby) neglected mother and child on purpose which lead to their deaths. With no real option to disprove these false claims he gave up his position as royal physician, after which his titles were stripped and he was banished from his mansion, forced to relocate to the slums on Bottle Street where he continued to practice medicine... illegally.

Sadly Eugenia died not long after of some illness... RIP baddie. Georgina was about 10 at the time and is still haunted by the memory of her dead mother lying in their house for days 🚶‍♂️ meanwhile Cornelius was starting to lose his mind a little...

Nonetheless, Georgie learned medicine from him (including a few very outdated practices), becoming his apprentice and eventually, after his death a few years before the events of dh1, taking over his little clinic in the Distillery District. Miss back alley doctor.

She's got close ties to Dunwall's criminal underworld, namely the black market and the district's gangs. She's close friends with Slackjaw, and later my friend dany @jennystahl's oc Marzanna, when she comes to Georgie for help with a coworker of hers.

Once the plague hits (and of course it hits worst for poor people), she pretty much has her hands full tending to the sick... she's practically living on Slackjaw's bootlegged elixir so she's fine and doesn't catch it but lord... it's jarring and horrible to see so many in her neighborhood die. She's well aware that the poor are hit worst by it 😕 When she's not at work in her clinic she spends her free time dissecting corpses in order to find a cure for the plague once you've caught it

She meets Corvo while he's in the distillery district and gives him a few leeches (and helpful hints) for Dr. Galvani's research. NPC behavior... she's in the game TO ME. I feel like everyone among the district (griff, slackjaw) knows the masked felon is Corvo so I think she'd have a hunch about it as well but it's fine. She's not immune to his greasy goth swag

Obviously she has no stakes in the deaths/other grisly fates of the assassination targets throughout the game. She was a little saddened for Jessamine because she liked her vibe but that's it. All those rich and powerful dying/disappearing/whatever... deserve 💕

/////

JOSEPHINE BUCKLEY

Born in the month of rain in 1807, in Norcaster, a (made up by me 💕) little coast town in northern Gristol. The Buckleys are very much new money and rose to prominence in the 1750s when grandpa Buckley opened a successful fishery. By the time of Josie's birth her father had already run the family into ruin, so deep in debt that they had to sell off most of their riches and furniture. She grew up in a haunted empty mansion 👻.

Her parents were obsessed with rebuilding the family's wealth and returning to their lives before their downfall, she was expected to look the part of a noble daughter, but was pretty much ignored otherwise & left to her own devices (her parents' favorite investment and biggest hope at the time was her brother Jacob). She spent most of her time down at the beach

That was until they discovered her talent for music.. miss child prodigy. Jacob was subsequently dropped and Josie became their little "favorite" and what little money they had they invested in improving her skills. She was eventually accepted into an academy in Whitecliff :>

That academy however was incredibly cutthroat and toxic and Josie's competetiveness (and the fact that most of the other girls there looked down on her) didn't exactly help it either... She eventually just started to manipulate her "rivals" (sneaking corrupted bonecharms into their dorms to make them sick, sabotaging their stuff etc) to come out on top.

She eventually landed a big gig in Dunwall that the empress would attend (by framing a rival of heresy and being picked over her. that girl died in prison :|) and pretty much became favorite overnight. Jess was her nr one fan and she became Dunwall high society's it-girl 💕 all while NOT revealing her cringefail barely-noble origins. She just told everyone she's from some old forgotten noble family in the north and they believe it I guess??? Countryside nobility

By the time the rat plague starts her career suffers a major blow, mostly because the concert houses are shut down and she's getting by with private bookings, which also slowly start to dwindle when the regime changes and she's kinda out due to her "allegiances" (NOT on good terms with the people who got powerful after the coup, particularly the Boyles, especially Lydia as a fellow musician... but she holds a deep grudge against Waverly because they're closer in age and have a similar vibe but thats for another post). She's not having a good time and just plans to marry above her station to secure her position that is more delicate than she thought. All the while her parents are getting mad they're not receiving money from her anymore 😕

During the events of the game she's holed up in her estate... paranoid because of the killings/disappearances and pathetically desperate for attention and to maintain her status. They hate to see a girlboss losing 😔

Also random but she's a big big fan of outsider worship because that was still practiced in her hometown and an even bigger fan of the sea. She misses living there but her house is right by the river which is something...

She was on good terms with Jessamine but never really close to her. Her closest friends are Miss White, her guy Dr Ramsey and Marzanna and Georgina in an au where they're both nobles hehe

/////

LENORE MORELAND

Born Lenore Willa Moreland (nicknamed “Nellie”) in 1784, the only child of Gerard Moreland, a finance clerk at Dunwall parliament, and Portia Woodward, proprietor of a boutique for funerary garments. Grew up on Clavering Boulevard, across from the Captain’s Chair Hotel, in the comfort of a middle class home. Attended school and all that.. yay <3

After graduating she worked at her mother's boutique and was expected to take over one day, until 1803 when Lenore’s father (through connection at parliament) secured her a post at the Pendletons as a Lady's maid. Her extensive knowledge on fashion and etiquette certainly helped with that hehe.

That didn't last long though, Lady Pendleton died not too long after Nellie arrived and her husband remarried soon after. The second Lady Pendleton, a nasty little woman named Violet Hornsby that absolutely no one liked, brought her own maid and was like um I saw how you dressed my predecessor.. no thanks 💕❤💞 take care of these stupid children isntead <3 and thus Nellie was reassigned as a governess :/ she had the education for it I GUESS but was still unprepared for the role and struggled to handle the twins. To make matters worse, Lady Violet further isolated her by not allowing her near her husband without herself being present and making her dine alone, away from the other servants who soon began to resent her for her new position. Something somethingoh shes suddenly too good for us...

Her future is kinda left open bc I'm using her for the RPG <3 but a few other details.. she likes to spend her free time in the family library and "borrows" books from there sometime. If she's allowed to leave the house she likes to walk by the docks... which she hardly ever does anymore. She also loves calligraphy and base level astronomy :-) Shes very very bookish..

#c: georgina #c: josephine #c: lenore #yayy girl time #and yes lenore of nelliefic fame looks like a tim burton character <3 hehe

[anneapocalypse]

Word Search Game

@ammoniteflesh tagged me to find the words skin, regret, and fall in my fics or WIPs. All of these I'm pulling from my big messy Ariane fic doc and this is all very first-drafty and unedited.

Tagging with no pressure: @farfromdaylight @chocochipbiscuit and @dreadfutures with the words light, place, and storm.

skin:

Ariane’s hand came to rest on his jaw then, cupping his face gently as she drew him in for another kiss. This one was soft and lingering, unhurried, and he wished with all his heart that it could never end. But end it must. “I dare say we both of us need our rest,” he said, with great reluctance. She nodded. “I dare say you especially.” It was another long moment before they reluctantly broke apart, and rose from the window seat. “Take heart,” he said. “All is not lost. Though our circumstances be dire, I dare believe we shall yet find a way, and I shall endeavor all the more to make it so.” “I have faith,” Ariane said. “I must. We must.” One last time, he took her in his arms, and kissed her. “Good night, my love. I shall see thee on the morrow.” “Good night, my love,” Ariane echoed, as she walked him to the door. “Rest well.” Her words settled in his heart, the memory of her touch still warm on his false skin, as he made his way back to his own quarters, full to bursting with emotion—most of all, in spite of their circumstances, an irrepressible joy.

regret:

“Thou art a healer of some considerable skill. I regret that I have had few opportunities to see thee in the field, but on those occasions, thy power hast been most formidable.” Ariane laughed, setting down her teacup. “I’ll be honest, Urianger, I never imagined anyone would use the word ‘formidable’ to describe me. I do most of my work standing behind someone with a sword.” “And 'tis thy talents which keep that one standing.” He smiled. “I understand thou hast taken to studying several arcane arts in parallel. Hast thou a favorite among them?” Her eyes took on a wistful look. “I always thought it would be conjury forever. And then… well. Suffice it to say, it let me down when I needed it the most.” He could have kicked himself. Master Alphinaud had relayed the story of Ariane’s unsuccessful attempt to bring Lord Haurchefant back from the brink of death���an attempt which had very nearly killed her. “Forgive me. ‘Twas not mine intent to call back such painful memories.” She shook her head. “Please, it’s all right. I’m… I can talk about it. About him.” She gave a sorrowful smile. “Avoiding speaking his name won’t bring Haurchefant back. I couldn’t save him. I have to live with that.” She sighed. “One way or another. Yes, it still hurts. But don’t feel you can’t speak of it, Urianger. I don’t want people walking on eggshells for me. I can handle it. I have to.” He nodded with all earnestness. “Aye… The grief doth linger… even as we learn to endure it. I understand. ” Ariane met his gaze, and nodded. “I know you do.”

fall:

She had seen the whole of Urianger’s face before. Once, when he had adjusted his goggle to wipe surreptitiously at his eyes, she had caught a glimpse of them, pale green and intense even in that fleeting moment. Later, when he had cast off the mask of Darkness, his whole face. But when it was over, he had shed the ornate gray robes of his disguise, and returned to his old worn arcanist’s robe, eyes hidden and face in shadow. So it been even as they grew closer, through too many teatimes to count now, and Ariane had simply grown used to it, grown accustomed to reading his expressions through the tilt of his head and the curve of his mouth. Seeing him laid out in the Rising Stones’ infirmary, still and silent and exposed, felt so deeply wrong. Ariane knew that it was for safety reasons, to keep his head and face unobstructed, should he move while unconscious. (He did not move. He was so still it hurt to look at him.) Still she longed to gently draw his hood back up over his hair. Give him that dignity at least. She could not. Nor could she keep a constant vigil by his bedside, flanked by Thancred and Y’shtola’s equally still forms. Her friends needed her out there, finding answers. And so she took only the length of a cup of tea to sit with them, with him. Her tea cup drained, she had no further excuse to sit, but Ariane took one last moment, watching Urianger’s chest rise and fall. Seeing that at least, he and Thancred and Y’shtola still drew breath. Gods, what she would have given just to hear his voice. Be it in quiet reassurance or cryptic verse of prophecy. It mattered not. Just to know he was here. Just to feel less alone.

#word search meme #tag meme #writing stuff #ffxiv stuff #the stars are blind my love #urianger x wol #shadowbringers spoilers #heavensward spoilers #this has been sitting in my drafts for two weeks because i'm a coward lol #but here! #haurchefant x wol #ffxiv spoilers

[princesssarisa]

Character ask: Beatrice and Benedick (Much Ado About Nothing)

Tagged by @ariel-seagull-wings

Favorite thing about them: First and foremost, they're both masters of wit. Neither one has any shortage of clever, hilarious lines.

Then there's their relationship. When they're "enemies," their insults are full of humor, and it's never hard to believe that they secretly do love each other, even though they would deny it with all their might. Then, as a couple, they're devoted and heartfelt, yet still witty, unsentimental, and true to themselves, and they share a good sense of mutual respect, with neither one dominated by the other. Of course some critics are concerned that the first act of love Beatrice demands from Benedick is that he kill his best friend Claudio, and that she accuses him of not loving her when he refuses at first, but not me. She's not going to be that way throughout their marriage; the situation of Hero's lost honor is just that bad.

Also, about Benedick: that despite styling himself as a woman-hater and enjoying jokes about cuckoldry, and despite his friendship with Claudio and Don Pedro, he never believes their accusation against Hero, not even when Hero's own father believes it.

Least favorite thing about them: Well, they can both be slightly mean-spirited in their insults, even though most of them are funny.

In the case of Benedick, there's also his lighthearted misogyny at the beginning (his and Beatrice's mutual reluctance to ever marry is probably meant to be equivalent, but from a modern feminist viewpoint, Beatrice's refusal to be dominated by a man seems more sympathetic and valid than Benedick's "old ball and chain" attitude), and the fact that he might have loved and left Beatrice before the start of the play, though we don't know exactly what happened.

Three things I have in common with them:

*I have no interest in getting married at the moment, but I would if I found the right person.

*I enjoy humor.

*Like Beatrice, I'm passionate about defending other women from men who mistreat them.

Three things I don't have in common with them:

*I tend to be openly affectionate and never reluctant to admit that I love someone.

*I'm less good at witty wordplay than I'd like to be.

*Unlike Benedick, I'd make a terrible soldier.

Favorite line (Beatrice):

When she learns of Benedick's new friendship with Claudio:

"O Lord, he will hang upon him like a disease! He is sooner caught than the pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble Claudio! If he have caught the Benedick, it will cost him a thousand pound ere he be cured."

In response to Benedick's "Are you yet living?":

"Is it possible disdain should die while she hath such meet food to feed it as Signior Benedick? Courtesy itself must convert to disdain if you come in her presence."

Her Biblically-inspired explanation of why she refuses to marry:

"Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a pierce of valiant dust? to make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'll none: Adam's sons are my brethren; and, truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred."

When the masked Benedick pretends to be someone else and asks her who Benedick is:

"Why, he is the Prince’s jester, a very dull fool."

Her reveal that she and Benedick share a romantic past, in response to Don Pedro's remark that she has "lost Benedick's heart" by offending him:

"Indeed, my lord, he lent it me awhile, and I gave him use for it, a double heart for his single one. Marry, once before he won it of me with false dice. Therefore your Grace may well say I have lost it."

When Don Pedro proposes marriage to her:

"No, my lord, unless I might have another for working days. Your Grace is too costly to wear every day."

And of course, her famous line of rage after Claudio publicly shames Hero:

"O God, that I were a man! I would eat his heart in the marketplace."

Favorite line (Benedick):

His first line to Beatrice:

"What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?"

His remark to Claudio about Hero's looks:

"Why, i’ faith, methinks she’s too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise, and too little for a great praise."

(Off-topic note: Benedick's quips about Hero's short stature make me wonder: was the role of Hero first played by the same boy actor who created the role of Hermia in A Midsummer Night's Dream?)

In response to Claudio's praise of Hero; the first evidence of his real feelings for Beatrice.

There’s her cousin, an she were not possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty as the first of May doth the last of December.

My favorite of his insulting remarks about Beatrice:

If her breath were as terrible as her terminations, there were no living near her; she would infect to the North Star.

When he finally resolves to marry Beatrice:

"I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage, but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age."

His short, simple, and unique confession of love to her:

I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?

From their later love scene after he challenges Claudio:

"Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably."

And my favorite of all his lines:

"I will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be buried in thy eyes—and, moreover, I will go with thee to thy uncle’s."

BrOTP: Beatrice: Hero. Benedick: Claudio and Don Pedro, at least until the wedding fiasco.

OTP: Each other.

nOTP: Beatrice: Her uncle Leonato. Benedick: Claudio, if any slash fans ever thought of shipping them.

Random headcanon: Whatever happened between them in the past, it didn't involve sex. Benedick might have jilted her, but he didn't take her virginity first. If he did, and it were found out, Beatrice's reputation would have been ruined, just like Hero's is almost ruined. It would make Benedick less likable, and their future happiness at the end of the play much less certain, if we think he jilted her after they had already slept together. Although I accept the fact that some productions imply that he did – just like I can accept that some Hamlet productions make Ophelia pregnant with Hamlet's child, whether I agree with that reading or not.

Unpopular opinion: While they're similar in obvious ways to Elizabeth and Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, and probably did partly inspire them with their battle of wits that ends in romance, they're also very different from them. Especially Benedick from Darcy, whose quiet reserve is far from Benedick's outgoing swagger; Beatrice and Benedick are similar to each other, while Elizabeth and Darcy, though not total opposites, are a contrasting pair. But more importantly, Elizabeth and Darcy are a couple whose feelings evolve from dislike (or rather, dislike on her side and aloofness on his) into love. Even though Beatrice and Benedick are often viewed that way, it's not really true: Beatrice and Benedick are exes. It's not clear if what they once shared was a full-fledged courtship or just a flirtation, but either way, they shared something, it ended badly (based on Beatrice's remarks, Benedick most likely got cold feet), and they hide their lingering feelings for each other by trading witty insults. All it takes to break this facade is for each to hear that the other still loves them. It's much simpler than Elizabeth's genuinely thinking Darcy is a terrible person, Darcy falling in love with her but failing at courtship, and both needing to learn important lessons about each other and about themselves before they can finally, gradually come together. And that simplicity makes perfect sense. In the first place, Much Ado is a two-and-a-half hour play, while Pride and Prejudice is a novel. Secondly Beatrice and Benedick aren't even the play's main characters; they're the comic relief beta couple. (Although they are the play's best characters and usually treated as if they were the leads.) Whereas Elizabeth and Darcy are the main characters of their novel, so their more complicated love story works best for them.

Song I associate with them:

"Sigh No More, Ladies, Sigh No No More"

This is probably its most famous setting, Patrick Doyle's from the 1993 Kenneth Branagh film:

And here's a more anachronistic version from 2011, sung by Catherine Tate and David Tennant:

Favorite pictures of them:

This 19th century illustration by Sir John Gilbert:

This drawing of Dame Ellen Terry and Sir Henry Irving in the roles, 1887:

This illustration of Beatrice by John William Wright:

This modern illustration by Kinuko Y. Craft:

Robert Stephens and Maggie Smith, National Theatre, 1965:

Judi Dench comforting Hero, RSC, 1976:

Emma Thompson, 1993 film:

Kenneth Branagh, 1993 film:

Catherine Tate, Wyndham's Theatre, 2011:

David Tennant, Wyndham's Theatre, 2011:

Danielle Brooks, Shakespeare in the Park, 2019:

Grantham Coleman, Shakespeare in the Park, 2019

#character ask #ask game #much ado about nothing #beatrice #benedick #william shakespeare

[spell-cleaver]

Day 18: False Death

(And Day 30: Failure)

@angstober​ 

Warnings: Second person narration, very creepy thoughts from Palpatine, possession, etc.

Vader steps into your throne room when the red guards allow him to and kneels at your feet. The benevolent smile you fix onto your face isn’t unfamiliar anymore: you thought you had finished with it once the galaxy was yours, twenty-five years ago, but you find that Vader responds to it far better than cruelty, when serving this master.

He is a dark stain on your luxurious red carpet. You notice with a slight curl of your lip that he had not bothered cleaning the mud from his boots before entering and has soiled the hall of your power with his own unkemptness, but you dismiss it. You have all the resources in the galaxy with which to clean it. But the undying loyalty of Lord Vader is something not so easy to maintain.

Historically, at least. Now, you find it almost boring how little a challenge it is.

“What is it, Lord Vader?” you ask. It is clear something is bothering him. He never managed to hide his emotions, mask or not. Not from you.

He keeps his head bowed. “The threat has been neutralised,” he says. “Chandrila’s population are pacified. We have many Rebels in custody, but more are dead.”

“Good. Civilian casualties?”

“The Rebels refused to withdraw, and Chandrila’s leaders did not see reason. We were forced to bomb the capital.”

“Anything left?”

“Imperial troops were evacuated, as were any valuable resources. The quarries nearby were left untouched.”

“Only the residential city was harmed?”

He senses the satisfaction in your voice and perks up. Dares to lift his head slightly to look at you, but your glare sends him cowering back down again. He knows his place, after all he has done.

“All civilians and civilian leaders were destroyed,” he confirms.

“Good. With our Death Star still in construction, I rely on you to remind planets what we can do.” You smirk, glancing over at the person chained to the floor to the right of your throne. The carpet does not extend that far: she sits on cold, black marble, shot through with white streaks like the light that has always threatened Vader’s darkness. You gave up on eliminating that light two years ago. Now, you harness it. “It’s a shame they forget Alderaan so quickly.”

Princess Leia meets your gaze levelly and coolly, but her composure does not fool you. Her eyes are rimmed with red and bloodshot. You wonder how long it will take before they turn gold.

“Alderaan will never be forgotten, Your Highness.” She spits out the title. You give her a gracious smile, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Your work has been amazing.” You turn back towards him, still kneeling penitently at your leisure. You stand from your throne and walk down the steps from the dais to lay a hand, small and tanned, on his large black shoulder. It is easy to sense how he leans into that touch, craves it like the oxygen his respirator feeds him. Just to cement the effect, you let him raise his helmet to look at you and smile at him. “Thank you, Father. I wouldn’t be able to do it without you.”

You can sense the watery smile he is giving you in return. His pride—for you—booms through the Force. Princess Leia scoffs.

The solution to eternal life, eternal power, and eternal control over the Force’s Chosen One was so simple, in the end. Skywalker waltzed right into your trap. You could not have baited it better, with those white-marble cracks running through Vader’s heart, calling him like a moth to the flame. It did not even take much goading to make him snap on the bridge of Death Star II: only a few hundred deaths beyond the viewport and the imminent demise of the rebellion, the impenetrability of his father’s loyalty, and his realisation that he had nothing to lose.

He had everything to lose.

You would have ordered Vader to defend you, if Skywalker tried to strike you down. But you changed your mind just in time. You could sense his rage, how his shields were coming undone. He was so focused on his father; he cared little for you. You are not even sure he knew you were Force-sensitive until your head had parted with your shoulders, and you were blinking up at Lord Vader with new eyes, younger eyes, with his distant voice screaming at the back of your head.

He did not scream for much longer. You took care of that. You took care of him; now, he is yours. Even if that gambit cost you your second Death Star, it was undoubtedly worth it. A third will be built; in the meantime, the Rebels’ morale has shattered beyond repair to see their hero become their enemy.

Vader’s gaze, pathetically blue behind his eye plates, stops staring into your young face and turns to glare at Princess Leia for her impertinence, half rising. “Luke—” he says.

“Father,” you say gently, putting a hand on his arm. Really, he revisits this issue every time. It grates. “It’s alright.” You have Skywalker’s speech patterns and accent down perfectly, by now. Not that Vader spent enough time with his actual son to know the difference. If he were forced to choose, right now, his real son or his fake one, you are reasonably certain he would choose you.

You are the son he has had the last two happy years with. You are the son who makes him proud. You are not the Rebel he regretted.

“She is not a threat,” you continue. “I tolerate her. Leave her be.”

Princess Leia’s muttered yet almost makes you laugh out loud. What an insolent girl—you understand why she and Vader’s upstart son got along. But she will come around eventually.

You wouldn’t have bothered having her captured were it not for rumours of the lightsaber. Princess Leia, seen at various Rebel strikes wielding a white lightsaber that she cut down loyal Imperial men with. You had been curious. And when you met her fully, with the power and sensitivity Skywalker’s body affords you, you knew it was a worthy instinct to indulge. Princess Leia’s Force-sensitivity, heretofore utterly unnoticed, rivals all but Vader’s. Skywalker’s included.

Another body? That would be a difficult fight, indeed; she would be ready for you, unlike Skywalker. But she has been here for nine months, kneeling beside you, trying to tug at heartstrings her friend no longer controls, and having long, long conversations. You are wearing her down. It is only a matter of time. And if you can turn her to the dark side, train her…

Well. The defection of Princess Leia would shatter the Rebellion almost beyond repair. But she and Skywalker always were close, according to your spies. If you turned her so thoroughly you could make her your empress? Not only would you have a powerful, loyal servant, one whose very existence undermines the Rebellion’s, but any offspring of Skywalker and Princess Leia would be incalculably strong. And a child’s mind could be moulded to allow you to control it from its first day in the galaxy.

It could take years. You are aware of this. But you are both young, and as a long-term plan, it seems worth the wait. If Princess Leia fails, Jade is still loyal to you. She would serve the same purpose excellently, even if her Force potential is a candle next to Princess Leia’s star.

You do not think you will need that, though. Princess Leia still listens to you. She is convinced that her friend can be reached, that Vader has done something to him. Skywalker’s faith in his friends was mutual, you see, and mutually foolish. You will use Princess Leia’s against her, as well.

“She disrespects you,” Vader growls. “Luke, I will not tolerate anyone who does not adore you.”

Princess Leia adores Luke Skywalker. She will grow to adore the emperor he has become.

You affect a sad smile, like a boy whose friend has decided to shun him. “I understand,” you admit in his shy, hesitant tone. “I deserve—”

“You do not.” Vader glares at her. “Do not allow her to make you doubt yourself. She will not undermine you. You give her control over you she does not deserve.”

“Father, do you think I’m blinded by my affection for my friends?” You let it come out biting.

“Yes, my son.”

He is so blinded by his love for his son that he does not realise his son is gone. Again, you try not to laugh. You turn away instead.

“I love you, Leia,” you tell her, walking back up the steps to her side. “You understand why I’m doing this?” You reach out a hand to her cheek. “I have to—”

She bites your finger. You jerk back, but the blood isn’t yours, and Princess Leia is choking, anyway. Vader marches forwards, his fist squeezing tightly, and tears weep from Princess Leia’s eyes as she claws at her throat.

“Stop, Father,” you said. Then— “Lord Vader, I order you to stop!”

He doesn’t, so you stop him. The burst of lightning that erupts from your hands does the trick. He cowers back.

You crouch in front of Princess Leia. “Are you alright?” You have always been excellent at faking concern.

She glares at you. “I know who you are,” she whispers.

“Your friend.”

“You are not my friend. You tried to destroy him.” Her throat is hoarse, raspy, but she keeps choking out her vendetta. “But Luke. Luke. I know you’re in there.”

This does not bother you. Princess Leia knows just how effective Imperial brainwashing has been in the past, how they have turned loyal Rebels against them. She is simply seething with denial that it could happen to a friend who was hers.

“Leave, Father,” you order, turning away from her. The ice in your tone brooks no argument. Lord Vader, hopelessly obedient to the son whose love he craves, leaves. You settle back onto your throne; only now do you let yourself smile.

All is proceeding perfectly. Vader’s fanatical devotion succeeds even your wildest dreams. If Princess Leia is resorting to such ridiculous claims already, she is clearly close to breaking. The galaxy is yours. It will not be long before that grip is utterly unquestionable. It will not be long before your eternal reign is assured.

This is where you are wrong.

Princess Leia still kneels on the floor beside you, the black dress you make her wear as an inverse copy of her Alderaanian Senate gown pooling around her like ink, and she watches you more closely than you can understand. She sees you smile. She sees your manipulations. But, most importantly of all, Princess Leia can see the only thing in the galaxy that you cannot. My sister can see me.

Do you think you can crush my soul?

Do you think I am gone?

And do you really think that you would have so thoroughly fooled my father into thinking that you were me if he could not sense me here, still lurking in the corner of my own mind, wholly aware and untouched?

You are not the great actor or manipulator you think you are. Your overconfidence is your weakness. I have been here for two years. I have seen how you operate. It has been slow, painstaking work, but I am coiled in every cell, every nerve, every brain signal, and soon I will be able to take back what you have stolen. And then I will use this throne you have given me to set your empire on fire.

You have failed, Your Highness.

I am a Jedi, and I will soon be set free.

#angstober #angstober 2022 #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth vader #leia organa

[four-loose-screws]

FE7 Novelization Translation - Chapter 7 Section 7

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———————————

Chapter 7: Those Who Slither (“False Friends” in localization) (Section 7)

Hector left the room as well to chase after Eliwood.

By the time he was out the doorway, Eliwood was already nowhere to be seen, and he had no idea where his friend was.

There, he found Oswin approaching him, who had been standing in wait outside the room.

“Lord Hector!”

“Oswin! Eliwood came this way, right?”

“Lord Eliwood ran outside through that gate.”

"Got it!"

"Lord Hector! Please wait a moment."

Hector started to chase after Eliwood the moment Oswin gave his answer, but Oswin's sharp voice stopped him. "What is it, Oswin?"

"We should return to Ostia for a short while. It is… difficult for me to agree that we should assist Lord Eliwood… and Pherae any longer."

"...What are you trying to say?” Hector furrowed his brow, not knowing what Oswin was getting at.

"We should be thinking of Ostia's immediate future now that we have suspicion that Marquess Pherae was involved in a rebellion."

"Oswin, take that back." Hector said quietly. His words were harsh and filled with his anger.

"Lord Hector, I know how you feel, however…"

"I know Eliwood's father very well, so I am telling you, he is someone we can trust. And if you serve me, then shouldn't you always be sincere with me?"

Oswin sighed at his words.

To trust someone to the very end, no matter what rumors may spread. And even if doing so resulted in betrayal, still, one should maintain that trust once it had been promised. Such thinking was the same as those of a knight's vows to their lord.

Once a knight vowed their loyalty to their lord, they would continue to serve no matter the struggles that would result. Even if it led to their death, they would obey their lord once their vows were made.

That was what Oswin had vowed as he stood before Marquess Uther of Ostia.

"...Look. You are my Brother's retainer. No matter how devoted he wants you to be in protecting me, you do not have to go so far. Return to Ostia, Oswin. You've been a great help. …I thank you."

"...I apologize from the very bottom of my heart… for my extremely rude words about Marquess Pherae." Oswin bowed his head deeply and knelt down where he stood.

Hector, on the other hand, flew into a panic over his sudden change in behavior. "Oswin! I get it! That's enough!! You can stop kneeling in front of me!!"

"No. Please allow me to take a knightly vow here."

"A… knightly vow?" Hector questioned. Oswin was acting so strange he was doubtful. 

Oswin raised his lance.

It was a completely ordinary Iron Lance. But it was a very meaningful lance, as he had used it for many years as a valuable companion on the battlefield, ever since Uther had given it to him when he gave his first knightly vows.

"Please accept this lance. Then return it to me after you give it your blessing."

"Oswin, you're really…"

"I am a knight in service to Ostia. Until now, I have dedicated my lance to Lord Uther alone. However… …Now, I wish from the very bottom of my heart to serve you as well. Would you please grant me that honor?"

Hector's uncouth manner of speaking that was entirely improper for a noble, and his violent behavior… made this current next-in-line of Ostia known as a strange man among the people, but beneath that mask hid a truly noble, lordly man.

And that man was a lord worthy of serving and risking his life to protect. Oswin was sure of that.

"Oswin…"

Understanding Oswin's feelings, Hector accepted the lance and gave it his blessing.

ー

After Oswin finished his knightly vows, Hector chased after Eliwood outside the gate. Located there was a garden built separate from the castle, though perhaps because Marquess Laus was focused solely on preparing for war, the once breathtaking flower beds were now run rampant with weeds.

In almost exactly the middle of that garden was Eliwood, standing around in place and looking utterly discouraged. But Hector did not know what he should say to him.

His father might have participated in the rebellion. That doubt, for Eliwood, who respected his father Elbert, was painfully shocking, and it wasn't unthinkable that it would spiral him into a depression.

But he could not just let his friend stay like this forever.

"Eliwood…" Hector said without thinking about it.

Eliwood responded with his eyes still looking down at the ground, "...Father is alive. And… I cannot imagine that he would ever support a rebellion. There… must be some explanation for everything…"

"I believe it. I think too that your father would be the last person to do such a thing. That's why… we should figure out where your father is and what really did and didn't happen. We can report to my brother after that."

"Hector, I'm sorry…" Eliwood looked up and expressed his gratitude. 

Hector, as Ostia's next-in-line, had a duty to report everything to Ostia now that he'd heard a rebellion was being planned against them. But out of his concern for Eliwood, he decided to put that off. No… he was doing this because he himself trusted Elbert.

Eliwood could not thank his friend enough for his thinking of him at a time like this.

"Don't make that face. Your father is alive. Isn't he?"

"Yes, of course he is!” Eliwood's expression brightened, and he nodded.

"Marquess Laus… The Black Fang… and this mysterious man Ephidel… We will find them and prove Father's innocence!!"

There were many, many mysteries unfolding along the path before them.

Eliwood vowed within his heart to stop at nothing until they had dispelled that darkness.

-

To be continued…

#fire emblem #fe #fe7 #fire emblem 7 #the blazing sword #fe7 the blazing sword #lyn #lyndis #hector #eliwood #japan #japanese #translation #gba #game boy advance #novel #light novel #fe7 novelization translation

[bernardo1969]

The prophet Malachi was a minor prophet who probably preached during the rule of the Persian Achaemenid dynasty in the Middle East; at that time, the monarchies of Judah and Israel had been forgotten and only the priests remained as moral leaders of the nation of Israel. For this reason, the prophet dedicated a large part of his book to denouncing the corruption of the priestly class. And this corruption had an origin, the lack of fear of God (constancy, firmness, devotion). These were the words of the prophet about the problem: "I will send a curse on you, and I will curse your blessings. Yes, I have already cursed them, because you have not resolved to honor me" Malachi 2:2. Malachi continued in his oracle, and put the priest Levi, the founder of the priestly class, as an example to follow for all priests, because a religion without fear of God is simply a religion of masks and appearances, the priest Levi was an example of the fidelity to the law: "´And you will know that I have sent you this warning so that my covenant with Levi may continue,´ says the LORD Almighty. ´My covenant was with him, a covenant of life and peace, and I gave them to him; this called for reverence and he revered me and stood in awe of my name. True instruction was in his mouth and nothing false was found on his lips. He walked with me in peace and uprighteousness, and turned many from sin" Malachi 2:4-6. The prophet Malachi concluded his oracle about the priests by remembering them that it was their responsibility to guide the people in the path of truth: "For the lips of a priest ought to preserve knowledge, because he is the messenger of the LORD Almighty and people seek instruction from his mouth" Malachi 2:7.

#prophet #godisreal #religion

[pooma-bible]

Sister. Savita Manwani

Praise the Lord! Greetings in Jesus’ name. Welcome you all for today’s word ministration. Stay tuned and be blessed.

Let us Pray: Dear Lord, thank you for this time and opportunity you gave us to listen to your voice. Give us a receptive heart to receive your word with gladness and be blessed. Make us the doers of your word and not just the hearers. In Jesus name. Amen.

Topic- What is Truth?

Pilate asked a vital question to Jesus Christ: “What is truth?” Jesus had told him, “The reason I was born and came into the world is to testify to the truth. Everyone on the side of “Truth” listens to Me.” This evoked a positive response from Pilate.

He was so close to truth yet let the opportunity slip through his fingers. Before Jesus could answer his question Pilate plunged into business. Jesus was testifying to him, but Pilate wanted to be done with his untimely duty. How sad! If Pilate had but waited for Jesus’ answer…! (John 18:37,38). This is what we too do. We pray to God to open our eyes that we may see the wonderful things in the Bible… and then read a Psalm and rush to work. That is why we have not come to the side of truth and that is why we don’t listen to him like Pilate.

What is Truth?

Long, long ago the Psalmist was able to perceive God’s commandments as truth (Psalm 119:151). The angel spoke to Daniel about the Scripture of Truth (Daniel 10:21). When we come to the New Testament we understand that it was Jesus Christ who revealed the truth to us. “The law was given through Moses, but grace and truth came through Jesus Christ” (John 1:17).

In fact, Jesus was the truth. He said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me”. (John 14:6). Whatever he taught was truth (John17:17). Jesus had long discourses with the Pharisees trying to convince them that he indeed was the truth and that he was teaching them the truth. But they were not ready to accept His words. “You are looking for a way to kill Me, a Man who has told you the truth which I heard from God,” said He. (John 8:40)

Paul was in no better position when he tried to save the Galatians from falling into the net of the false teachers. “Have I now become your enemy by telling you the truth?’’ he asked them (Galatians 4:16). Truth is never popular. Only a few choose to follow the hard way of truth. Let us not capitulate to the pressure from all around to ignore truth and go as the world goes.

Walking in Truth

Psalm 86:11 – “Teach me your way, Lord; I will walk in your truth,” prayed David. If a man of the Old Testament was keen on walking the path of truth, how much more should we, who are blessed with the Spirit of truth who indwells us! (John 14:17). Let us take one small proactive step at a time and move towards the truth. Like ripples in a pond, it will spread to our family, then our office, city, country and the entire world. I believe one person can make a difference.

Why is it so hard for us to hold onto the truth? Walking in the truth demands openness. It means we stand in an illuminated area where anyone can see what we are doing. It means there is nothing fishy about us, nothing questionable, nothing dark or evil. Bad people do their deeds in darkness, out of sight of people, hidden, like the robbers with masks we see in the CCTV cameras. “Everyone practicing evil hates the light and does not come to the light, lest his deeds should be exposed. But he who does the truth comes to the light that his deeds may be clearly seen, that they have been done in God,” said Jesus (John 3:20,21).

When caught, booked and brought before the TV camera, the wicked turn their faces away or cover their faces with a towel. They had forfeited invaluable honesty for a pittance. Are we ready to walk into the full glare of the limelight to expose our deeds? Will we cheerfully let the world see who we are …inside and out? “Reputation is what men and women think of us. Character is what God and angels know of us” said Thomas Paine.

We may claim to have repented and proclaim that we know God. But unless we walk by His commandments, we are liars and the truth is not in us. Our life must match our words (1John 2:4). The devil is a trickster and a sly liar totally opposed to truth.

“He was a murderer from the beginning, and does not stand in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaks a lie, he speaks from his own resources, for he is a liar and the father of it” (John 8:44). That is why we should be extremely careful not to be sidetracked from the truth believing his lie.

Today even those who have stood for the truth with their shoulders straight have been knocked off their perch by false teachers because of whom the way of truth is blasphemed (2 Peter 2:1,2). If we are brazenly dishonest after we have received the knowledge of truth, we have to face judgment (Hebrews 10:26).

The Power of Truth

The power of truth is awesome. “As He spoke these words, many believed in Him” (John 8:30). People as they were listening to Him got converted! Jesus addressed those who had believed on him saying, “If you hold to My teaching, you are really My disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (Vs. 31,32).

The knowledge of truth dawns gradually. Till then we have to simply cling to His teaching. Then we start understanding the truth. When we are illuminated, we will be liberated from our bondages, sin, false beliefs and teachings, fear, etc., step by step. The Spirit of truth will take us by the hand and guide us into all truth (John 16:13).

Freedom Through Truth

This is the freedom Paul talks about in Galatians 2:4. E rambles about how Titus, though a Greek was not compelled to be circumcised to avoid ethnic tensions. Paul’s conviction was: Live and obey and love and believe right where you are and how you are. “Was a man uncircumcised when he was called? He should not be circumcised. Circumcision is nothing and uncircumcision is nothing. Keeping God’s commands is what counts” (1 Corinthians 7:18,19). And he was right. Believers enjoy the freedom in Christ to decide on personal conviction as long as they don’t violate the commands of God.

But some false believers wanted to make Paul and his team slaves to the "Don’t touch that, don’t eat that, don’t go there, don’t see that" religion. It is a religion of man-made commandments with a show of piety (Colossians 2:21-23). Paul withstood them because he wanted to preserve the purity of the truth of the gospel for the coming generations and not let it get adulterated (Galatians 2:5).

Paul had no qualms about certain controversial practices. Peter wasn’t clear about the "truth of the gospel," which is justification by faith and not by works like circumcision, i.e. we are saved by faith through grace. He mingled with Gentiles. But when the circumcision group came, he was afraid that they might find fault with him and removed himself from the Gentiles. Paul condemned this lack of straightforwardness about the truth of the gospel with astringency. Thus he settled the issue once and for all that righteousness comes not by law but by grace.

The heretical teachers were trying to shut them out of the free grace of God, but truth prevailed! Paul calls the Galatians foolish for not obeying this truth but were intrigued to obey the law (Galatians 3:1). They were convinced about the truth of the gospel taught to them by Paul and were running in the right track superbly, before the circumcision advocates came and deflected them (Galatians 5:7).

Stand for Truth

Writing to the Ephesians, Paul admonishes them to stand firm, with the belt of truth buckled around their waist (Ephesians 6:14). If the belt is not buckled properly, fighting the army is out of question. If we are not clear about this truth of the Gospel, we may fall victim to the devil’s schemes. Paul was very particular that every congregation should be clear about this truth because of its vital importance (Colossians 1:5).

Paul calls God’s word as the "Word of Truth," which we must learn to interpret correctly. If not, we will be put to shame (2 Timothy 2:15). Unedifying godless chatter will lead to straying from the truth. Hymenaeus and Philetus were caught up in a yak-yak about resurrection and ended up believing that it was over and done with, confusing the Christians and leading them astray from the truth (2 Timothy 2:18).

False teachers come to you with an eye on your purse and go to great lengths to please you. Their mouths must be shut up warns Paul, because their motives are rotten. People must be protected from them, for they reject the truth. They talk big to show that they know God but their actions deny Him (Titus 1:10-16). Learn to discern the Spirit of truth from the spirit of deception (1 John 4:6).

Especially in these last days, we need to keep our eyes wide open lest we fall into any of the deceptive pits. If we love God, we must show it by obeying the truth, that it is God’s word (John 14:15; 1 John 5:2, 3). This is the acid test of our spirituality. Honest people sparsely dot the world today. If we continue to wallow in our pet sins listed in 2 Timothy, chapter 3, we will immerse ourselves in learning but will never be able to come to the knowledge of the truth (2 Tim 3:7).

The last days are on us. People are turning their ears away from the truth and sound doctrine and are falling for spiritual junk (2 Tim 4:3, 4). The standard of holiness set by men is coming down every day to the extent now that homosexuality is not sin, abortion is legal, and what not! But God’s standard of holiness is unchanging. It is always, "Be therefore perfect, even as your Father in heaven is perfect" (Matthew 5:48). Be alert! They tweak the Scriptures a wee bit to suit their purposes.

Why Truth?

Why should we worry so much about truth? Is it not enough if we just read the Bible, listen to church sermons, and go about our duty? Let’s see four things:-

The truth, that is the word of God, has a sanctifying effect (John 17:17; 2 Thessalonians 2:13). When a person sincerely studies the word of God and walks by it, without his knowledge, he is being cleansed. His conscience is sharpened. He learns to hate evil and love righteousness.

Make no mistake. If you insist on walking the path of lies, you will face fiery judgment. And who will be the judge? The truth that Jesus taught us (Psalm 96:13; John 12:47, 48). Let us not deceive ourselves with the leather-bound word of God in our hands – with a gold gilt too! If we refuse to love the truth that saves us and delight in wickedness, we will be condemned (2 Thessalonians 2:12; Romans 2:8).

The protective power of truth cannot be underestimated. "His truth shall be your shield and buckler" (Psalm 91:14). A person who walks in the light of the truth is safe.

Truth gladdens the heart. The Apostle John was excited to hear that some of the chosen lady’s children were walking in the truth (2 John 4).

He had a dear friend named Gaius. Believers who met Gaius came back and informed John about him. John was so ecstatic that he sat down to write to Gaius, how his heart jumped when he heard how he was faithful to the truth and how that he continued to walk in the truth. John says that the greatest joy for him is to hear that his children (believers) are walking in the truth (3 John 3-4). This joy is not just for John, but it's a common sentiment shared among believers and leaders when they see their fellow brethren steadfastly embracing and living according to the truth of God's word.

Truth has an inherent power to shape lives, transform hearts, and guide our paths. It is not just a set of principles or doctrines; it is a way of life that reflects God's character. Truth is the light that exposes darkness, the foundation on which faith is built, and the sword that cuts through deceit and falsehood.

In a world that often distorts reality and blurs the lines between right and wrong, holding onto the truth becomes a beacon of hope and clarity. By immersing ourselves in the truth and allowing it to permeate every aspect of our lives, we align ourselves with God's divine wisdom and purpose.

As you journey through life, remember that truth is not a mere concept but a living reality found in God's word. Embrace it, cherish it, and let it guide your decisions, interactions, and thoughts. The pursuit of truth is a lifelong endeavor, one that leads to a deeper understanding of God and a more meaningful existence.

In conclusion, let the words of Psalm 119:160 resonate in your heart: "The sum of your word is truth, and every one of your righteous rules endures forever." May you continue to seek, embrace, and walk in the truth, experiencing the freedom, joy, and transformation it brings to your life.

[inkdemonapologist]

[BatIM Call of Cthulhu Masterpost]

what episode are we on, THIRTEEN??? is it 13??? I think it’s 13. LUCKY EPISODE 13

anyway a LOT happened this session (sammy got attacked by an Angel! HES FINE) but ONE of the things that happened is that:

Prophet Sammy and Jack and Norman and Pete were sent off to get projector lightbulbs, because we needed a working projector to activate a magical artefact (AS ONE DOES)

we lost norman, so we took..... every lightbulb since we didn’t know which was the right one

we ran into a sleeping snake in the music room, and we were gonna just sneak past, so Prophet told everyone to keep quiet

Jack’s recent sanity loss resulted in a compulsion to defy orders

Jack defied orders

we actually all failed our rolls to be quiet except for Pete, so we determined that Sammy failed his own stealth check by responding with “WHAT ARE YOU DOING” at top volume, we are a very competent team

ANYWAY HAVE A SMATTERING OF OUT-OF-CONTEXT QUOTES,

[Sammy is played by me, Joey is played by Boo (inkyvendingmachine), Henry is played by Maf (inkcryptid), Jack is played by Mochi (whatyouwantedmetosee) and Thren (haunted-hijinxer) is our GM!]

[Jack] I have no feelings. [Jack] Well, I have one feeling, and it is: Party.

[Sammy] Sammy will tell him he's the Prophet of our lord! [Joey] Not the Yellow King. You should probably clarify that, [Sammy] (Sammy looks OFFENDED)

[Sammy] And he will pull out the angel trap for, whatever we're planning to do with that... what ARE we planning to do with that? [Jack] Step one, trap an angel. [Jack] Step two, question mark? [Jack] Step three........ Prophet is already here, we skipped ahead a few steps.

[DM] Preach at it! [Sammy] I don't really expect the angels of the False King to be, um, receptive to my message,

[Henry] If no one suggests helping Norman, I honestly don't think he's going to think of it... [GM] Norman is easy to overlook, in Henry's defense. [Henry] But it would be really handy to have... okay, I'm gonna say just before he does it goes, "wait, Norman, you--" [Sammy] (Is Norman receptive--?) [Jack] (Is Norman still there) [Joey] (Actually, Allison's there now? It's really weird.) [GM] (Tom's there now!) [Joey] *cracking up* (The local Tom species is well known to be found in cultist huts!) [Jack] (He's actually just astral projecting from New York, he just thinks he's having horrible PTSD,) [Sammy] (Actually, this is just another loop of Haiti. It's just a really long loop)

[GM, as Norman] Not sure now's the time for a party trick? [Sammy] Just smear your blood on people's hands! At a party!!!

[GM] Okay! 7 more temporary strength damage! [Henry] I'm at 52... [Joey] Joey could beat you in an arm wrestling match! [Sammy] OH NO, oh that IS bad! [Jack] If we're going by Strength number... Henry, having passed out after magical overexertion, is still stronger than Jack!

[Joey] Joey's gonna put a hand on Sammy's shoulder, and tell him that he did a good job! [Sammy] *muttering* ...Sammy does not require the praise of men... he seeks only to please his lord. [Joey] Well too bad! [Joey] He clearly has no taste.

[GM] The Angel is basically in between you and the huts. [Sammy] Cool, cool, cool. That's exactly where I wanted an Angel to be.

[GM] It's Jack's turn! [Jack] Hm, [GM] Joey's growing spear arms-- [Joey] (Pitchfork.) [GM] --Pitchfork arms... Avedon's freaking out... Henry's collapsed and is bleeding again... *cheerfully* Jack can appreciate all of this! In full detail now!

[Jack] Norman, hurry up and come to your senses so you can save your... whatever the heck Avedon is to you! [Sammy] Seems like friends at least. [Jack] Maybe more! [Jack] Imagine~

[GM] Henry is still down for this round, but is there anything he wants to take this opportunity to communicate or do? [Henry] *mumbling quietly* I'm fine, I'm fine... I just, I'm-- I'm fine,

[Sammy] Out of character, I'm alarmed. Sammy doesn't care!

[GM] Norman doesn't really want to leave someone to die. He's assuming everyone's on the same page, but... I guess we'll see!

[Joey] I think he's going to toon-hand, to reach out, and just like... open, the Angel's mouth? [Jack] That is cartoon logic! [Sammy] Put a stick in there. [Joey] Yeah! [Joey] NO, ACTUALLY, THAT'S GREAT [Joey] I'M STEALING THAT

[Jack] OH YEAH. Gives Jack an insanity, immediately forgets the insanity, [GM] It's good that everyone helps out on these! Because I'll tell you what, I do not remember all of them, [Joey] I feel like normally you shouldn't need to remember this many? I feel like we have maybe, uh, gone, a little far with them,

[Jack] The Lurker is a Bendy, he’s been training for this!

[GM] Avedon is muttering, intensely! [Sammy] That's-- that’s good! -- he's fine! See! He's back to normal!

[Joey] Joey is right next to Avedon, and holding him in his freakin, large cartoon hand.... and he rolLED A NINETY THREE ON LISTEN, he has, he has chosen not to listen to a word this man is saying. He is doing the opposite, he is REJECTING LISTENING. [Sammy] I rolled an 83, I don't know what Sammy's listening to but it's not Avedon! [GM] Bendy's also cackling delightedly, which isn't helping. [Sammy] Ohhhhhh that's what I'm listening to, the joyful laughter of my lord.

[Jack] What is stopping us from doing Moon Lens-y things? [Sammy] (oUT OF CHARACTER, I THINK THAT'S A REALLY GOOD IDEA!!!!)

[Jack] Maybe we should do, NOT this! and instead do, SOMETHING ELSE!! because it seems as though we have, just a little bit of a time limit!!!

[GM] It's gonna try to claw Moonlight free! In hopes that he can free it later. [Joey] Maybe it'll roll really badly-- [Sammy] Accidentally kill Moonlight, [GM] Let's see if it, like, fumbles... oh no, it does? whAT?? It rolled 98!! [entire party cackling with delight] [GM] Awkward,,,

[Sammy] If you don't shoot it, then Henry's gonna try to use magic again and it's just gonna be a mess. [Jack] He better not! [Sammy] Yeah, but it's Henry, so- [Jack] If he does, Jack'll beat him up himself! [Sammy] Oh, yeah, those sOFT LYRICIST FISTS, YOU WATCH OUT!!! [Jack] Jack punches Henry and Henry gains health

[GM] It stumbles a bit, but it's still coming. [Henry] *calmly* Shoot it again, please.

[Sammy] Sammy just doesn't take a sanity penalty because he's doing great, and is extremely sane. He doesn't have ANY insanities! [GM] I feel like the preaching one might still apply... [Sammy] It's not a compulsion, he just makes bad choices.

[Joey] Norman, did you bring your flashlight? [GM] Hm. Did Norman bring a flashlight to a swanky party...? [Joey] *muttering* he brought a GUN,

[GM] Make sanity checks, those of you who possess sanity!

[Joey] He's immediately going to turn around, and pull out the stone, and try to convert it! [Sammy] *softly, with feeling* ...you asshole...! [Henry] Uh, nonono, hey, uh-- [Sammy] (That's my job--!) [Joey] He's specifically trying to convert it to... not the Messenger, [Sammy] *DISTRESSED SCREECHING*

[GM] People who register as normal humans should be fine? [Jack] Does Sammy count as a normal human, currently? [GM] He does! [Sammy] Alas. He still must exist in this prison.

[Henry] Henry's going to say something along the lines of "Don't make me regret this," and he's going to start warding the door. [Sammy] (gOSH,,, whY ARE YOU, LISTENING TO HIM????) [Jack] (They just enable each other!) [Sammy] *incoherent yelling*

[GM] There's a big ol' snake! In the chair! [Henry] snair (snake chair) [Joey] Oh! You guys have to grab the snake, for Henry! [Sammy] We... don't! [Henry] For his collection!! [GM] Snare the snair!! [Sammy] NO! We're not gonna grab the snake chair! You didn't tell Sammy, 'now if you see a snake chair while you're out, make sure to grab that!' You DIDN'T TELL HIM THAT, YOU SHOULD'VE PUT IT ON THE LIST before you send him out like this, and not TEXT HIM EXTRA THINGS WHEN HE'S HALF-WAY THERE!!!

[GM] *describing weapons that can be found in the music room* There's lots of blunt instruments around... [Jack] NO!!!

[Henry] He's not going to be able to physically restrain Joey for the entire time you guys are gone!! [Jack] Because we all know that's the only way to stop Joey Drew.

[Joey] He's going to fix the story, and he's not going to let the Messenger ever mess with them again! [Henry] WE CAN DO THAT ANOTHER TIME, DREW

[GM] What is Henry trying to convince him, exactly? [Henry] *so, so tired* To just... stop.....

[Henry] ...I don't know... he wants to take as much strain off of Joey as he can-- [Sammy] DON'T TIE YOURSELF TO AN ELDRITCH ARTEFACT! [Henry]..........yeah, I'm going to listen to the ghost of Sammy.

[GM] You get to the closet, and find lightbulbs! [Sammy] So Norman has found what we need. [GM] No. Norman's not there anymore. [Sammy] .................what. [Joey] *cracking up* (ALLISON is there!)

[Sammy] *muttering* Okay, let's move very quietly through the room and not wake up the snake. [Jack] ...is he saying that out loud? [Sammy] ..........yes. [Sammy] Probably something more like, "Stay quiet, my sheep" [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMM [Sammy] I'm sorry, Sammy doesn't know about your insanity [Jack] HMMMMMMMMMMMM! [Joey] *laughs* Oh, we're disasters! [Jack] Theoretically, what would I do to suppress a compulsion...?

[Jack] And Norman isn't in this room? [GM] No, he is not. Although, uh.... yeah, nope. Nope!

[Joey] I honestly did not think Joey was going to get this far. I thought people would be back by now. [GM] There was a snake, [Sammy] We had to take a bit of a circuitous route, and SOMEONE is playing the piano! Even though I told him not to! [Jack] Also, snircuitous. [Sammy] (Why is this happening to me.) [Jack] I'm helping you method act Sammy Lawrence!

[GM] He does hear some of that laughing again, sounding very pleased, and an unpleasantly loud metallic sound. [Sammy] (.......is Norman actually becoming the Projectionist!? Eps is gonna be THRILLED!)

#call of cthulu: haunted hijinx #sammy lawrence #Jack Fain #prophet sammy IMMEDIATELY ditched the mask #it is not the mask his lord gave him!!!! a false mask!!! #anyway the concept of jack with a >83 expression is too good not to draw

[k-dokja]

Disclaimer: My entire knowledge of Latin came from the Internet. I'm not entirely sure about one of his "tattoos" but I went with the saying.

You had seen people falling for him before. Easy charm, easy smile. Always ready to showcase good hospitality for another even when most of it was the product of duplicity.

Better than anyone, you had seen him without the mask. When his expression wasn't a by-product of a well-crafted performance, something about him unhinged you. Like gazing at the devil in the eyes and knowing your fall would be far from graceful if you took a singular misstep.

It was easy how he can fool people, even those who has seen underneath his act of a good man. He planted the seed of false hope, leading people into thinking he'd change somehow if they gave enough for him. Like he'd care one day and his heart didn't come from stone.

A beast was always a beast no matter the form he took. After knowing Jinho for all those years, you'd be a fool to take anything he said at face value. Not when lies came to him easily as breathing and duplicity was never his biggest sin.

Hard to say what would be the depth of his atrocities.

Yet, there were times when you willingly turned a blind eye to the truth he carried. Because he was an excellent actor and if you willed your mind to believe everything he said for a moment, then whatever he drew up could exist to be your reality.

You didn't risk yourself often. Not when the reminder of the actual world always scratched at the back of your mind. A silent hiss at the honeyed words too sweet and too gentle to be genuine. You wondered at times if Jinho took joy in keeping you thinking, one would be stupid to assume that you'd be anything more than an asset for him in the long run.

Maybe an ally, at best. At least you could live in the comfort of knowing you weren't a pawn under him. Lord knows how many times you had to witness him discarding the ones which he no longer saw as useful. You couldn't rely on him to care for sentimentality even if you had known him since the days when his hands didn't drench in blood.

Your history with him might have been a lengthy one, but ending up in his bed might have altered whatever course you had mapped out for yourself. It left you sitting up long in the aftermath, wondering about every possible outcome. If not him, then you, always thinking too much. Making the brief moment when you forgot who you were and who he was a futile action in hindsight.

Maybe he had intended for this to happen, maybe you didn't see it coming. Whatever it was, you never stopped tossing around the idea that Jinho had a plan somewhere that you couldn't see.

For what motive... you couldn't tell. Not this time, anyway.

“Something on your mind?”

It probably did help that Jinho didn't mind much of what you did. You never knew where he got that confidence from. Probably from getting one step ahead of you this time. Breaking the single barrier crossed out between you both and smeared the line you drew, he must have been smug about the entire ordeal.

Yet... when you gazed down at him, he was softer around the edges. Relaxed, even. You could have fooled yourself into thinking that he had left all of his schemes and planning outside of the door. That the Jinho you were seeing, tangled up in bedsheets next to you, his skin slick with sweat from the previous hours, was one you didn't have to worry about.

“Well, yes...” You couldn't put into words the entirety of what was bothering you, but you could reveal the half-truth. “I was thinking about this online influencer plan of yours.”

He traces his finger along your thigh, interest feigned for the conversation. “Oh?”

When he extended his arm to welcome you back, you laid down without a second thought, far more used to his open affection than expected. You almost winced afterwards, nestled in the warmth of his embrace. Jinho didn't seem to care.

“I won't bother you with concern about how bringing forth a public image might not be a good idea but...” You marched your fingers on his chest, tracing the smooth skin until your eyes met with his. “I thought the content for your channel was pretty close to home.”

“Mhm, isn't it better?” He smiled. “At least I won't be caught in a lie about making videos about what I don't understand.”

“Better in the long run, yeah,” you admitted, “but your disguise... is it another one of the lies or it lies with your interest, too?”

Jinho caught your arm, rounding it on his waist. It took him pressing his lips on yours, distracting you momentarily from your question, and his hand sliding down the curve of your hip, pulling you flush against him before he had an answer.

“The animals are pretty telling,” his smile was on your lips, “but I assume you're talking about the quotes.”

You hummed, "Do you believe in anything you wrote on your face?"

There was no need to masquerade, no lie to be told. But you couldn't help but wonder if these lies came to him easily as breathing now. Could he ever break away from it?

"Why don't you guess?" His murmurs fanned on your lips before he pulled away. "You've always been good at reading me."

"Knowing you, every single word is a lie," your finger dug down on his back, nail scrapping the skin he left bare, "is it?"

"Not all," Jinho's reply was uncharacteristically gentle, "my soul does follow fortune."

You snorted, unsurprised by his reply. "How expected of you."

Even without it there, you could remember the words of that one. Bold was the placement, you noticed from looking at him once. But the others... you never cared to look close enough to memorize them. "What about the others? There was one about a rose.”

Jinho caught on quickly. “The thornier the rose, the sweeter the fragrance.”

Admittedly, it was cheesier than expected. You were glad that none of his works was permanent. While they were beautifully done, you had always thought it was tacky in portrayal. Maybe it was intentional to separate from the actual him.

“Is that how you think of yourself?" You could see that being the truth, the words fit him better and better the longer you ruminated on it. Yet, you saw the thorns and touched the rose anyway, whose fault would it be when you catch yourself bleeding?

"Maybe it's how I think of you," he squeezed your hip, “aren't you thorny, little rose?"

“...your jokes are horrible,” in spite of your words, you found yourself smiling, too.

No. Too soft, too easy. You shouldn't give yourself away to him that readily. Easy for the flesh to answer but the mind must stay vigilant. Turning away from the imploration of his eyes, you steered the conversation back to the course. “Anyway, what of the last one? Amo something?”

“Amo te, ame me,” and then, with the tenderness of a quiet confession, his explanation came to you, “I love you, hope you'll love me, too.”

Three simple words and it was all it took for your heart to sink to your stomach. Three simple words you had heard him saying and would never hold any meaning as long as he was the one saying it.

You had to force yourself to respond before he noticed something was wrong. So you laughed. “How can you say the word love without getting caught on fire?”

“You will find that I can waltz into holy places just fine,” he retorted with mock seriousness, “in fact, one of our businesses has a hideout in a church.”

“Of course, add blasphemy to the list,” you snipped, “what else haven't you done?”

“Mhm, there's a pretty long list,” he kissed you again, sweetly this time, "are you offering to help me finish it?" It was almost enough to make you say yes, that you'd do anything he wanted, as long as he continued to keep you blind and loved.

You knew better.

You always did.

So you laughed and said, "Yeah... not in a million years."

#lee jinho x reader #lee jinho #244 htf #244 x reader #how to fight #viral hit #fics #i just want to get this fic out of my draft #zzz

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Ok you’re obviously the queen of medieval!aus and I was just wondering if you would ever write something about dark king!Andy (preferably silverfox 🥴)? Like imagine reader is a princess to wed his son but after he sees her for the first time he can’t let that happen because he has to have her 👀

In His Place

"The prince has been delayed again, your highness," you hear the footman and smile graciously but you can't take another ounce of bad news.

"Again?" you breathe as Morina stands with hands folded just to the left of the bearer of disappointment, "do you have news at least of when he should arrive? The vows have already been put off an entire fortnight."

"Apologies, your highness, I am only informed that it will not be today," the servant said.

"It is not your doing," your lips quiver, "please, as you were, I appreciate you coming."

The man bows and leaves. You look at Morina and let the mask fall. It was some new excuse every other day; first a storm at Herikshire, then bad lampreys as Briston, now you didn't even get an explanation. If this prince is as flighty in marriage as he was in his travel, you might be in for a lifetime of frustration.

You sigh and bid Morina to fetch you dinner. You're not hungry but you've not eaten that day. The castle servants do no say more than their ascent to your orders and your handmaid is the only who you can share with.

When she returns, she is not alone. You stand as she announces the king. He appeared days after your own arrival at the royal summer house. He was tall and handsome and kind. His greying hair did little to mar his good looks and it gave you hope for an equally handsome prince.

"Your majesty," you stand to greet him, "I did not expect you."

"I did see your maid on her way to the kitchens and thought it impolite to let you eat alone... once more," he smiles as he approaches and you offer your hand courteously, he gives that false peck practiced by nobles the world over, "I hope it is not an imposition."

"Not at all," you let your hand fall to your side and go to the table, he keeps his manners and waits for you to sit before he does the same, "I should treasure the company, it is rare."

"Yes, I hear my son has been delayed again, I must apologise, he always did like to tarry. I'm afraid his mother, god rest her soul, did indulge his whims rather much," King Andrew pauses as his glass is filled and his ringed fingers wrapped around the golden goblet.

"I should not be impatient," you remand yourself, "and I cannot complain to you, my host, for this place is most pleasant. I have enjoyed my time, as solitary as it is."

"Mmm, well," he mulls over his wine and tastes it daintily, "it is not your impatience that bothers me, it is my own. My council even. They would have the pact sealed in a timely manner and so, I was visited by several seat holders this very day and we have conjured a resolution."

"Oh? Shall I pack my trunks?" you wonder.

"Nothing of the sort," he removes his cap and brushes out his thick locks, "we would hold the ceremony tomorrow and if my son should remain elusive, I would stand in in his place. It is not unheard of, often when marriages are held among the younger nobles and they are unable to confirm their vows, it is not unusual for another to take their place in the ceremony for the purpose of the contract."

"My father married my mother as such, she was only a girl and he was a man," you affirm, "I've heard of the practice but I did hope to meet my betrothed soon."

"You might still, I think he might hasten once he receives the news," Andrew replies, "but it would ease your worries and mine to have the contract fulfilled and your father would be equally as relieved, yes?"

"I suppose," you scrape the pepper jelly onto a heel of bread, "it is very kind of you to do so."

"It is a father's duty," he says listlessly, "my son always did require overly much guidance."

👑

Prince Jacob did not arrive before the afternoon. Morina put a wreath of lilies around your head before you made the descent to the garden. King Andrew stands by the vined arch patiently, a lord for his witness and the lord's wife for yours. A bishop stands by the altar and a clerk near the plinth topped with quill and parchment.

You walk the winding path past bushes and blooms. It is not as you imagined your marriage day. There should be more people, it should be in the grand cathedral or the capital, it should be with your true husband. But you cannot be unhappy, that would be improper.

As you approach, the king offers his hand. You take it and step onto the stone ledge. The bishop begins his ancient mantra and you pressed your palms to your skirts nervously. You look up beneath your veil and catch Andrew trying to peek through it.

The look in his eye makes your heart flicker. You've never seen him look like that. He always had a joyous light to his iris but there was something else, there is an edge to his jaw, a line in his forehead that spoke of determination.

When it is your turn to reply, you issue your "I do" and the bishop finishes his vows. The witnesses are the first to sign the contract, then the king, then yourself. Andrew hands you the quill, a long fluffy plume, and you near the stone table.

You pause. Your name, in gilt letters, is curled beside his own. You search for Jacob's but you only see yours and his. You are untrained in the matter of legal writing but you could read well enough. You look at Andrew.

"Sign it," he says, "you were sworn to my kingdom, not my son."

"Your majesty?"

He glances between his witness as they stand behind him. The bishop remains near the arch. Andrew comes closer and steadies the quill's tip against the parchment.

"Put your name down or I will have you anyways and send you back to your father a whore," he snarls under his breath, "is a king not better than a prince?"

You blink at him in confusion. It is unexpected and you've never been talked to as such, not by any, not your own father. Your hand shakes and he lets go of the feather. You scratch onto the parchment and drop it at once.

"In His eyes and His authority, you are husband and wife," the bishop declares as he nears and places his seal on the contract, "King Andrew and his queen."

The king takes your hand and you flinch. He flips your veil back as he pulls you to face him. You look at him and bat your lashes as you try to comprehend what you've done.

"What about the prince?" you ask breathily.

"He is young," Andrew's lips curl as he brings your knuckles to his lips, "and we can produce another. A better prince."

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #king andy barber #defending jacob #ask #drabble

[bubblywriter0]

Le rouge est la couler de l’amour

(This is a brief teaser insert from part of the fic) 

wc: 500 tw: implied sexual scene, some brief descriptions

“Are you scared?” 

His voice flits across your bare body, warm breath tickling the elevated goosebumps on your skin. 

You lie bare beneath him, and you can only think one thing: he’s perfect -he looks like a God. He is God. 

Still, you want to deny his accusation, it's only natural for you. But you can’t will yourself to do it. Because that would be lying. And the Lord detests lying lips. 

Besides, you are smarter than that. You know not to lie to Light Yagami. 

Light had been awaiting your response patiently, a virtue that he did not hold generously. 

Light Yagami could guess people's movements before they made them. Human behavior was like a language, one that he was fluent in. Something ran through his blood that set him at a higher level of apprehension than the average person; maybe it was part of the reason that Light had always felt superior to just about everyone he had ever met. People were predictable. You surprised him. 

However, you’re choosing to stay silent didn’t. Light was entranced by the fight going on inside your brain. He could practically see it, two forces fighting each other out to gain control. He fed off it. The false generosity he displayed in his already thinning mask was the mere result of the entertainment you provided him, nothing more. 

This was because Light Yagami was not a true gentleman. It was only too easy to figure out what people wanted. Once you gave them enough of it, they became greedy and naïve. That was another sickness humans were plagued with: greed. 

People should be on their hands and knees, begging, groveling to save their stupid, selfish, pathetic lives. They should be begging him. And they should be eternally grateful if he decides to spare them. 

Light got tired of playing with you. 

“Give me an answe-” 

“I’m not.” Lie. He knew it too. You swallowed, terrified to break eye contact with him now. 

“Oh really?” Light grinned at you, placing a hand around the column of your throat. Your body tensed, heart racing. 

“Why is your pulse racing like that then?” You swallow, blood slowly working from your head down your body, leaving your mind in a frenzy that urged you to give in.  

“Please Light” You were switching tactics. distracting him from your weakness. You both saw it again, that distinguishing flash in the others’ eye. 

What am I going to do next? Who’s going to cave first? 

“Please what?” 

You bit down on your lip, so hard it should have drawn blood. One of his thumbs dragged to your hip, pressing circles gently. 

His lip curled and his eyes burned as his skilled fingers coaxed you, baited you. His tone dipped down terribly sweet and low and you desperately fought the urge to tremble. 

“Come on, you know what I want” 

#Light Yagami #light smut #light yagami x reader #light yagami x you #death note x reader #death note headcanons #death note smut #l x reader #this is a very small part of my fic #teaser #death note