#this is the outcome of thoughts when there's too many emotions mixing together and the brain is thinking 1000 things at the same time

[zephahhhh]

I want Severus

#severus snape #pro snape #my bs #this is the outcome of thoughts when there's too many emotions mixing together and the brain is thinking 1000 things at the same time #don't know what to do #just need sneep #he'll know what to do

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 5

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies), crack, alpha/omega/beta dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe-modern setting, jaskier is having the worst time of his life, valdo is here to make everything worse, confusion, banter, insecure jaskier, internalized slut shaming

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 13,761 words

Chapter word count: 3,051 words

Chapters: 5/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

*

Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: In which Jaskier has to deal with PVSD (post-Valdo Stress Disorder), feral goats, and three people from his past that he thought would never ever see again.

Author's notes: Jaskier deserves a break, but he isn't getting one. Sorry, my poor son. I'm continuing my stride of inflicting more emotional turmoil on these poor, unfortunate souls.

Read on Ao3

*

By the time Jaskier got home, he managed to calm down a little bit. Well, he wasn't ready to commit gruesome murder anymore, but his brain was still ticking like a bomb just imagining Valdo Marx's smug grin. Why was this happening to him? What has he done to deserve this? It must have been a cruel, sick play of fate that Sara's mother happened to be best friends with the manager of Valdo's annoying theater band. Jaskier would have to sit down with her and beg her to pick someone else- surely there were other bands that wouldn't ask for millions just to play at a small wedding!

Worst case scenario, he would ask Priscilla and Essi to back him up and play some Sandpipers songs. Amaryllis specifically asked him not to play, because she wanted Jaskier there as a father, not as an employee, but desperate times called for dramatic measures. Either way, Jaskier needed to figure out a way to get rid of his rival before he ruined his beloved baby's big day.

The inn was bustling with guests at this time of the year. Each of them greeted Jaskier happily when he walked through the door. It made Jaskier smile. He had many guests who returned each year, and he saw new faces as well all the time. It was a small business, but people loved the Dandelion Inn, and its owner. Jaskier just wished the costs of holding up a place like that would be cheaper. He's been struggling with paying the bills on time lately, and since the inn was a mostly seasonal business, he had trouble scraping enough money together in the quieter months. But Jaskier promised Auntie he wouldn't let the inn fall apart, no matter what happened.

"Have you seen Amaryllis today?" Jaskier asked Angela, his receptionist. She was a sweet old lady who was hired by Auntie, and Jaskier refused to kick her out, even though she worked slowly and kept mixing up the room numbers. In fact, Jaskier refused to fire anyone from the old staff. There weren't many job opportunities on the island, and even though Jaskier struggled with the costs of keeping all the staff, he didn't want to put them out on the street.

"She had to go to the library, emergency call," Angela explained, not even looking up from her magazine. Jaskier raised an eyebrow.

"Emergency? In a library?"

"The pipes started leaking and she was called in for emergency inventory. But before that, she dropped off a girl here and said something about the goat shed, but I couldn't hear her, you know my ear isn't that good anymore, dear."

"Okay," Jaskier concluded with a sigh. "Wait, what girl? Sara?"

"No, not Sara! I would recognize her! No, it's that one, sitting at that table!"

Jaskier turned to where Angela pointed. A teenage girl with ashen blonde hair was sitting at a table in the lobby, doodling in the guest book. Jaskier didn't recognize her as one of the guests, but with his head being all over the place lately, it was entirely possible he just forgot he's seen her before.

The girl looked up from the guest book and caught Jaskier staring. She grinned and waved at him. Jaskier waved back with a smile. Yeah, must have been one of the guests. He needed to keep better track of these things.

Amaryllis did help him out at the inn when she could, but she had a job at the library and couldn't always be there. Which was a shame, because her memory was much better than Jaskier's. Unfortunately, Jaskier was getting old, he needed to accept it.

"Did Amaryllis say if she fed the goats?" He asked Angela. She didn't react.

"Angela!"

"What was that, dear? You know my hearing isn't great!"

"The goats," Jaskier said louder, articulating each word, "did Amaryllis feed them?"

"I don't know, I don't think so."

Jaskier sighed, slumping against the reception desk. "Great. I'll have to deal with those stinky beasts again."

Another thing Auntie entrusted him with before she died was taking care of her herd of goats. As much as Jaskier loved his aunt, he did curse her sometimes for leaving those animals in his care. He inherited the whole place: not just the inn, but the small flat connected to it where he now lived, and that godforsaken goat shed in the yard.

Jaskier was pretty sure those goats had a personal agenda against him. They were so sweet with the guests, patiently letting small children pet them. They even posed for photos. And they absolutely adored Amaryllis, who, for some reason Jaskier couldn't comprehend, loved those monsters back. Jaskier still remembered the headache when his five years old daughter toddled inside the house with a baby goat in her arms and asked Jaskier if the goat could sleep in her bed. When Jaskier said no, Amaryllis managed to smuggle it in anyway, causing Jaskier a near heart attack when he pulled back the covers one day, and found a goat in the bed instead of his child.

Despite their otherwise sweet behavior, the goats acted completely feral around Jaskier. They bit him and knocked him over constantly, and Jaskier was sure his eardrums would give in one day with how loud they kept screaming. Maybe they sensed he wasn't exactly fond of them. All the same, they were a necessary evil that came with his inheritance.

He changed his clothes quickly, because he was sure his pretty floral shirt would be ripped apart by the goats. He changed it to a simple white shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts before he grabbed a bucket, cursing under his breath all the way to the shed.

"First Valdo Marx, then these fucking goats," Jaskier huffed, "what's next? The aliens will come to abduct me? Fuck's sake. Emergency inventory, my god. As if they don't have several copies of War and Peace. No, let's save the books, it's all fine, who cares that I will be murdered by these monsters?"

He came to a halt before the shed, taking several deep breaths. Alright, he needed to calm down a little bit. He experienced too much stress lately with the wedding planning. Deep breaths, positive thoughts, he told himself. Everything was gonna be okay.

He opened the door and slipped inside the shed, holding the bucket out in front of him like a shield. Just like that, one of the goats, an old, black one that Jaskier was convinced was Satan himself in disguise, knocked into it, sending vegetables flying.

"Asshole," Jaskier huffed, entangling the goat's horns that got twisted in the handle of the bucket. "I brought you lunch, and that's how you thank me!?"

He heard something stir in the corner. One of the baby goats kept sniffing at a large haystack, craning its neck to look behind it. It started stomping on the floor with its hooves, the sound not helping Jaskier's impending headache.

"The hell are you doing there...?"

Jaskier's face went pale when he noticed something that looked like a human leg, pulling back behind the haystack. The blood ran cold in his veins. Someone was in his shed.

"Amaryllis?" He tried. No response came. Jaskier's heart pounded like a hammer inside his chest. He slowly approached the haystack, the hairs on his arms standing on end. When he said he was gonna be abducted, he meant it as a joke!

"Who's there?" Jaskier called again, trying to will his voice not to tremble. "I have a metal bucket in my hands, it hits hard! And I have pepper spray in my pocket! And a rape whistle! I would reveal myself if I were you before it was too late, because I'm... I'm feral!"

A hand emerged from behind the haystack, palm up, as if signaling they came with peace. Jaskier still held onto the bucket, just in case.

The rest of the stranger's body was revealed. Jaskier's eyes widened, and his mouth fell agape. He wobbled on his feet, white noise filling his head. His vision started to swim as amber eyes looked into his own. Familiar white hair, with a few pieces of hay stuck into it. A painfully sharp jawline, now covered with a beard. A tall, broad built, that didn't seem to change all that much since Jaskier last saw him. And he still wore black, from head to toe.

Before Jaskier had a chance to say or do anything, another figure emerged from behind the hay. Jaskier's jaw somehow dropped even lower as he spotted that reddish-blond hair, and those always inquiring blue eyes. Sharp features with thicker stubble than last time. That lean body, clad in expensive clothes. That careful little smile.

Jaskier dropped the bucket, the sound like a gunshot when the third figure came in sight. Black hair, not reaching the middle of her back anymore, just falling past her shoulders. Intense violet eyes. Plump lips, a little chapped. Warm skin and a black dress that hugged her still perfect body.

They all changed here and there, but they mostly looked the same. There was no mistaking them for anyone else. Now, Jaskier only had one question.

"What in the fucking fuck of a fucking hell you all are doing here!?"

"Jaskier," Radovid spoke first, his voice dripping with fake confidence, even though his eyes looked alarmed at Jaskier's outburst. "It's so good to see you, again."

"What are you doing in my goat shed," Jaskier wasn't proud of the way his voice came out as a whimper. But, excuse his French, he was shocked as all hell. Three figures from his past, three people he's romanced literal decades ago, the three people in the sea of his one-night stands that left the biggest mark on him, now stood in front of him. He blinked several times, but the vision didn't pass. They remained standing there, confused, as if they weren't the ones who showed up here for no reason.

"That's a long story," Yennefer sighed. She wrapped her arms around herself as she blinked up at Jaskier. "Shit, it's been a while. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Me neither," Geralt chimed in. He gave Jaskier a small, uncertain smile. Jaskier did his best to ignore the feeling it gave him. "You look..."

"No, no, you're not getting out of this without an explanation," Jaskier scoffed. He put his hands on his hips, glaring at them with all the anger he could muster. "Why are you even on the island? What do you want?"

"What do you mean," Radovid chuckled, a little bitterly, "what do we want? Is this a joke?"

"If it is, it's not funny," Yennefer scoffed. She gently pushed a baby goat away that tried to chew on her dress. "We didn't travel hours on a fucking ferry for you to pretend like you don't know why we're here."

"What!?" Jaskier could feel himself getting hysterical. "What kind of sick prank is this? Which one of you came up with this? How do you even know each other!?"

"Jaskier, we came as quickly as we could," Geralt said. "We dropped everything at home just to come here. It's been... a very weird and exhausting couple of hours. Would you tell us what's going on?"

"Me? You tell me what's going on! I haven't seen your faces in twenty years, and now you suddenly pop up in my freaking goat shed!? And I'm the one who owes YOU an explanation!?"

"You were the one who wrote to us!" Radovid said, pointing a finger at Jaskier and making him raise an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You sent us all an ominous letter, about some life and death situation and how we needed to come see you in person," Yennefer explained. "And that we should pack enough clothes for a few weeks. You promised you would be at the dock, but it was actually your..."

"Wait, wait, wait, wait," Jaskier interrupted her, holding his hands up. He looked over all of them, his confusion growing with each passing second. "Hold your goddamn horses. I did not write you a letter. I didn't write a letter to anyone, let alone the three of you."

"Okay, then what is this?" Geralt asked, reaching into his pocket. He handed Jaskier a crumpled piece of paper. Jaskier skimmed it. The lines blurred together in front of his eyes as he realized what happened.

"That's not my handwriting," he whispered to mostly himself, "that's Amaryllis's."

Oh, holy sweet cow. It all started to make sense. Amaryllis asking about her other parent. Her expressing the need to find out who it is, so they could be there at her wedding. His diary mysteriously switching places in his drawer. He did not misplace that diary. Amaryllis must've taken it out and read it. And she was a smart girl, and a very determined one, as well... if she read it all, if she read about Jaskier's affairs, she put the pieces together - the pieces that Jaskier never dared to.

He nearly collapsed. He only managed to stay on his feet because Geralt caught him around the waist, holding him up.

"You okay?" He asked, his eyes full of concern. The other two moved closer, hovering at his side anxiously. He was surrounded by them in his anguish. It triggered an old dream, a wish he had made a long time ago. Memories flooded his brain, memories of the most intense pain he has ever felt in his life. Pathetically sobbing for someone to come and hold him - Geralt, Radovid, Yennefer, someone, please. I can't do this alone. I wish you were here and held my hand. Auntie, why did you have to leave me so soon? Hell, Mum, I hate you for what you did to me, but I would settle for even you. I just don't wanna give birth alone, don't wanna raise this baby alone, I'm scared, I can't do this...

"My daughter wrote to you," Jaskier whispered. He tore himself away from them, stumbling on his feet. "She pretended to be me to lure you here."

"Fuck," Yennefer whispered, "we've met her."

Jaskier snorted. "You did, huh? I guess she was the one waiting on the docks, then."

"Indeed," Radovid sighed. "She said something about how we should get to know each other better before her wedding, and that one of us should be there for some reason. Then, she practically shoved us back in our cars and told us to drive here. She made us hide out here and she promised she would explain everything, but she got a phone call and left."

"This isn't real," Jaskier laughed hysterically, shaking his head. "This is a nightmare. No, actually, I think I'm dead. And now I'm in hell. Oh, I might be burning soon!"

"Why did Amaryllis write to us?" Geralt asked. "And why does she want us to be there at her wedding?"

"Oh, that's gonna be great. Just absolutely gorgeous. I'm going to strangle her."

"Jaskier," Yennefer hissed, "would you calm down and tell us what's going on!?"

"So, none of you have a hunch," Jaskier snorted. He sighed deeply at their confused stares. "Well, I assume you all realized I've gotten to know each of you pretty well in the past."

"Yeah, we got that," Radovid huffed. Jaskier ignored the emotion the sheer jealousy in his voice evoked in him.

"Well. I have a suggestion why Amaryllis picked you three out of my past affairs, specifically."

Geralt sent him a confused look. "Why?"

"I assume it's because she read my diary, where I wrote about you. And the entries were dated. And well, she might have done a little bit of Math. Which wasn't difficult, considering I'm unmated, so no known daddy or mommy disrupting this lovely picture."

Recognition soon started seeping into their eyes. Their faces turned pale simultaneously.

"When was Amaryllis born?" Radovid asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Jaskier rubbed at his temples, feeling his headache increase.

"May 2003. You're good at Math, aren't you?"

"Now I wish I wasn't," Radovid groaned. Yennefer's eyes widened.

"You're implying that one of us...?"

Geralt swore under his breath. Jaskier imagined the goat shed collapsing over them. He wished it would happen.

"That one of you is Amaryllis's other parent, yes. And she clearly figured that out, too. Congratulations to someone here, I guess."

The silence was deafening except for the goats bleating in the background. Jaskier's three ex lovers stood still as statues, none of them daring to say anything. Jaskier felt a tear run down his face, but he felt too exhausted to wipe it off.

He struggled so hard to forget about them, to erase their smiles, their voices from his mind. To stop remembering their warmth, the feeling of their arms around him. The thought of seeking them out was constantly on the back of his mind after he found out he was pregnant. He knew their address, but he also knew that he didn't mean anything to either of them, not the way they meant to him. They had other things to take care of, and Jaskier wasn't one of them. Would they have even come back, if they found out Jaskier was pregnant? Would they have cared at all? Geralt, with his insistence that he couldn't give Jaskier what he wanted anyway, Radovid with that giant company, and Yennefer who had better hopes than tying herself down on a tiny island - they wouldn't have come back for him, no way.

Why they were here now, Jaskier didn't understand. Why now, after so many years? How come they didn't forget about him? Why were they standing here, staring at him in confusion, after twenty years, just because of a stupid letter?

Maybe it was because they actually... no, he couldn't allow himself to go there. They didn't love him. Not like that. This was all just a giant misunderstanding.

Jaskier felt like he was going to get sick. This was just too much.

He faintly heard them calling his name as he stormed out of the shed, but he didn't turn around.

#geraskier #yennskier #radskier #a/b/o #jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #radovid #omega jaskier #alpha geralt #alpha yennefer #beta radovid #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #my fic #mamma mia au

[mrneighbourlove]

Held Together

Morlock stood watching on the deck of the ship, viewing the waves crash back and forth against the planks. Her fists clenched with barely contained violence that wanted to explode outwards in fiery emotion. However, with Moki’s kidnappers long gone, that emotion had to be channeled towards someone else. Her teammates? Everyone tried their best to save him, or were caught off guard. She couldn’t - wouldn’t blame them. Instead, she blamed herself. If she had been faster, if she had been the ranger she knew she was capable of being, then perhaps the outcome would be different.  

But she wasn’t. Instead, here she stood, still wet from falling into the waves. The wind blew the cold chill of failure down her spine, and suddenly that anger turned to bitter resentment. Drooping, her hands fell to her side, releasing the tension she held. Turning to return to her cabin, Morlock dissociated from the world around her.  

Thrognak the Barbarian was many things. Large, positive, brave, and a pillar of physical as well as emotional strength for his party. On days like these, however, that strength had its metal tested. He too felt the sting of defeat. The loss of Moki was so sudden, so calculated, he was still wrapping his head around it. To him, the little fox was incredibly powerful. Moki’s wild magic was chaotic and destructive, often making quick work of any opponent. Truthfully, it often made Thrognak feel trivialized in comparison. If someone like Moki could be taken so easily, what did that mean for Thrognak? Shaking these thoughts off, the man knew he didn’t have the luxury to think about himself at the moment. Another of Thrognak’s notable qualities was his empathy.  

Looking at his friends, he could feel the pain that came from them all. Lirim had just left them not too long ago to venture on his own, and now Moki was gone too. It seemed that the likes of Aoth was already comforting the youngest members, Clementine and Cedric. 42 had anger, but the warforged was hard to read, let alone talk to at times. Zavid was a relatively new member of the party, and while Thrognak was sure the man cared, the cowboy hadn’t grown an attachment to anyone as of yet. That left Davari and Morlock, both of which had already returned to their cabins.  

The scarlet tiefling had certainly tried to stop the abduction with her own magic, but came up short. Davari was a capable woman that Thrognak had come to care for over his adventures. But the same could be said for Morlock in many ways. Yes, she could be incredibly frustrating at times. The noble woman’s pride often made her make rash decisions that got her into trouble, and she could butt heads with her comrades if she was in a bad or snooty mood. Despite this, he also found Morlock to be incredibly brave. She never ran from danger, and she was always willing to come up with a plan when it came to helping her friends. If there wasn’t time for one, she’d throw herself into danger with mixed results. Sometimes she wouldn’t come out on top, but she would always put 100% of her heart into a task. Like she did for Moki. He found himself admiring that about Morlock.  

Taking a breath, Thrognak made up his mind. He’d speak to Davari later. For now, he felt a duty within himself to see how Morlock was faring. Knocking on her door, he waited for an answer. When he didn’t get one, he slowly opened the door. “Morlock? Are you there? Tis I, Thorgnak.”  

Morlock had taken off her purple cap, and was finishing taking off her boots. She looked surprised that someone had taken the time to check in on her. “Thrognak?”

“I don’t want to intrude on anything. However, I feel company could be beneficial. If you’re up for it?”  

The noble paused, unloosening her braid to let her wet hair fall down against her back. In the past, she had often pushed away those who wanted to give her comfort, or simply get to know her on a deeper level. The feeling of isolation, often self imposed, was something she no longer desired. Giving Thrognak a nod, she motioned him over.  

Taking the silent gesture as acceptance, Thrognak made his way over. Taking a seat beside Morlock on the bed, his weight shifted the mattress slightly. Clearing his throat, Thrognak knew he had to get a sense from her. She seemed uncharacteristically reserved for her. He made sure he was careful and slow in his wording.  

“Morlock. I know you've been through a lot these last few days. You almost dying, finding out two of your brothers are dead, Lirim having left us, and now… Moki’s abduction. Any one of those can be a major challenge for someone to tackle. I want to know. Are you okay?”  

Morlock listened closely to Thrognak. Her mind raced with a dozen different responses. Many were hostile. Almost all of them held pain thinking about these issues. Taking a breath, Morlock clenched her fingers. “No. I’m really not.”

Thrognak’s face softened with a look of empathy. “I’m here if you want to talk about it.”  

“What’s there to talk about?” Morlock looked to him with her pain cracking through the emotional walls she had taken years to build up. “I’m a failure Thrognak. I couldn’t save my brothers from my father’s influence. I don’t think I had the strength to ask Lirim to stay with us. When I saw that beam fire out at me when we were in the depths… maybe Moki should have let me die. How is it fair that he was able to save me, but I couldn’t do the same for him?”  

Thrognak took a moment to think of an answer. Sighing, he held her hands. “Life isn’t fair. But we have to keep trying our best. Especially for ourselves. We’ll get through this. Together if we have to.”

Not wanting him to see her cry, Morlock threw her arms over his frame, hugging him with her head over his shoulder. Thrognak held her back, letting his warm embrace comfort her. ________________________________________________________________

Commission work for a fellow Dungeons and Dragons player.  

Word Count 1037

#Dungeons and Dragons #Commission Work #Ranger #Barbarian #Morlock Kinnaly #Morlock #Thrognak #Romance #Tragedy

[florafound]

knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier. ( repost do not reblog ! )

✿ name:  rook ✿ PRONOUNS:    he/they ✿ preference of communication:  discord is honestly easiest, please ask for it. ims are good but they can be lost sometimes bc tunglr's bs ✿ name of muse(s):  Birth name is Sophie Poole, but known as Kit.

✿ EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS / YEARS?):    i've been on tumblr for over 10 years now so....jesus uh....awhile. Quite awhile. I'm thinking I started in middle school so like...16+ years now.

✿ PLATFORMS YOU’VE USED:   i've been on tunglr for 10 years now as i said - and wow holy shit that's....wild. Because it feels like yesterday I was on my other websites -- I also used dreamwidth, some livejournal forums, gaiaonline and my start was with neopets forums.

✿ best experience: i've had so many wonderful experiences roleplaying. it's a great chance to meet and greet with other people. i've found so many good friends who put up with my shit so often. but shout out to meeting @badassxbirdy 10 years ago when I first started roleplaying Mel and the extremely hilarious way Tyler and she met. Demons. Nakedness. Awkward all around. The works. But how that meeting became a friendship that I wouldn't trade the world for is so important to me. I'd love to go back to England and see Emmy again soon and hope the world will let me.

✿ RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS:    starting with the basic, i'd say most people would agree that hate and drama is a big dealbreaker and I'm one of them. But some of my other pet peeves are people who come into your ask/ims and guilt trip you. And I'm pretty uncomfortable with large amounts of nsf.w, specifically imagery. If your blog is like 3 pages of nsf.w on any given day, blacklist is probably breaking down on my dash and cant block it all. And I'm super easily squicked out by sexual imagery. But that's about it.

✿ fluff, angst or smut:  smut is never an option on this blog. and while I've tried dabbling into it again with my older muses, my fluctuating nature of squickiness about smut can be limiting so it's very very very rare. Of the other two, I used to be well known for writing ONLY angst, but over time I've got much better at writing fluff. But i'm a sucker at exploring trauma, trauma reaction and the emotional outcomes, so more than likely my longer threads are angstier than fluffy.

✿ plots or memes: i want to say both, because plots can be so thereapeautic to see them through. But for me memes are ALWAYS easier to work with. I'm nervous about plotting and can almost NEVER think of anything on the spot when someone says "hey let's plot" and it ruins the vibe. However, if I ever have a thought about our characters or vice versa, I am hELLA ready to slam into DMs.

✿ long or short replies: preference for long replies because I'm a big sucker for novella level emotions. on the other hand, I know I struggle to write a lot. And I'm sure my partner's run into the same thing as well, so sometimes short things are a good way to continue building character dynamics without as much effort or plotting.

✿ best time to write:    when i'm not absolutely dying from exhaustion or mental health issues. I have such a chaotic activity, I'm aware. And I wish it wasn't like that but sometimes my brain just says 'nope' and that's been a lot lately too.

Honestly though, I find that I write a LOT better when I'm at work because when I'm NOT on a call, there's really not much else to do once base chores are done. But at the same time it's at the whim of the EMS gods if I have the chance to sit down and write at all or if I get interrupted in the middle of my flow. Doesn't really matter what time of day though.

✿ are you like your muse(s):   if I'm being honest - most of my muses have SOME bits and pieces of me mixed in. They say write what you know and all that. And as my comfort muse, I'll admit that Kit is a LOT more like me than the rest. While I'm by no means an escaped science experiment that's been brainwashed, a lot of Kit's interaction with the world and in particular her autistic traits, are very heavily based on my own or how I perceived the world in some cases. In other ways we are very different - I am not a nature encyclopedia for one. And also cannot punch to save my life.

tagged: @byanyan & @femtaile tagging: anyone else who hasn't done it, please please please

#dash games. #about the mun.

[legaciestold]

@skeletcnkey (mitchell) continued from long ago

how CRUEL a universe to pit light in an ever constant WAR with darkness. how cruel a universe to bring the two of them together if their now intermingled fate would lead to this. how cruel a universe that KILLER and RESURRECTOR should be one in the same; not a red-headed vampire– a devil in disguise– or a stranger, but a friend, no, that wasn’t quite the word… how cruel a universe, how so very cruel.

tension hangs within every atom of air like the collective gasp of a crowd watching a tight-rope act. there’s no net, NO SAFETY, only what feels like an infinite wrinkle in a strangely mundane timeline.

bella had been the MUNDANE, living a life where her biggest problem was taking care of her mother. and then she had become the performer: she was the new girl and then the one every girl wanted to be, she had fallen into a kind of first love– the kind of love you thought you’d give up your life for, you’d do anything to protect, the love that made you blind to the rest of the world, but so very happy until it would crash and burn around you– and she and felt pain, she had run with wolves and discovered hidden family secrets, she had lost and lost and been tested and tested with trial after trial until she was deemed ready for the main act. and then john mitchell had found her in that alley, a stake in one hand and a battle with a vampire commencing. one had to wonder how different this outcome may have been if it had been anyone else.

this place had been her greatest fears materialized. that night in the woods had played over and over, the ballet studio too. she had watched everyone she cared about murdered, always too slow to save them. she had watched herself become a MONSTER, her being the one to attack. she had even found herself back in forks, happy with Edward until the narrative had begun to change. no, it wasn’t right, he had never wanted her to become one, that had been her. she had been so YOUNG and NAIVE…and he wasn’t the one who she— it had taken that one to fully awaken her, only to find mitchell still under this maze’s brutal influence. and her present state and a stone room filled with blood and tissue was proof enough how that had turned out. maybe he should have succeeded in his efforts to tear into her body. maybe she should have succeeded in plunging that stake into his chest.. or her own. because he had killed her. he had eviserated everything she once was as his fangs butchered her. yes, this place had been her greatest NIGHTMARE, and now, it had made her such as well.

and yet…

she’d let go of the stake and flown through the air, nearly missing her mark until a hand grips her own and AWAKENS her in a new way. terror courses through her… she feels as if she’s crashing down…. mitchell’s hand holds tight and suddenly she has an almost IRONIC LIFELINE, lips parting as a collective gasp is released from her mind’s imagined crowd.

a single touch, A SHARED SENSATION, and bella is more alive as the undead than she ever had been as a living, breathing teenager. her mind begins to race, scents mingling. some part of her understands they should move on in this god-forsaken maze, that the walls seem to have eyes and if they want out they have to go forward, while another part is suddenly focusing on their joined hands, watching the vein in his wrist and letting her hues move upward, following that blue line. she wants them to leave this place, to SURVIVE this place, but her mind has suddenly become so cluttered, so LOST. this is what it means to be of the darkness, to experience that hunger that drives the undead…

when had she pushed him toward the wall, hands still gripped together? when had her features shifted again, but this time not out of anger or fear?

eyes widen, her forcing herself a step backward but not dropping his hand. there’s too much happening, too many emotions mixing with scents and hunger and the drive to just escape this HELLMOUTH or whatever one wanted to call this evil place. it all plays across her features as if they are windows into her mind and soul. and the struggle begins again, bella shaking her head frantically and trying to gather CONTROL. she needs to have her mind in the game, she needs to get them both out of there. she needs to feed before her death becomes a true death. before her death becomes her fate.

#skeletcnkey #v; the darkness i became #muse; bella swan

[truckreincarnation]

Attack on the Heart | Avery | Trial 3.3 | Re: Bian, Harriet | ATTN: Harriet

First, as Bian originally apologize… Avery had looked a bit relieved. Even if she was still suspicious of Harriet, that was fine, because just suspicion was… more normal, in a situation like this. 

“Thank you, Bian. That’s… I appreciate it,” they offer simply after, to that, voice a little quieter now. And he gets it, too. The anger, the projection. So even just taking accountability for that is a lot.

That’s not to say that there weren’t other stresses happening of course, because arguments were STILL happening, even if he… well, he could certainly understand why Theophania would be upset at Nao acting like that while Meili was dead. But he takes a deep breath, and tries to ride it all out, to focus on the information as he tries so painfully hard to keep himself together too.

Slowly, Avery was getting the answers to the questions that he’d asked, was painting a clearer picture of what had happened. If Shinjuku’s ability worked like THAT, then it did kind of imply a fight had happened, or at least an attack that wasn’t fast. If Frank was certain that he WOULDN’T have been responsible for the bench, then barring him lying of course, that meant it DID have to be someone other than him who’d caused it, lending even greater evidence to that fact. Theophania confirming the health states of everyone narrowed the options, as did Vee’s explanation of the ankle wound. 

Despite accusations towards Vee cropping up as well, there was a nagging feeling in his mind before Bian had even voiced her own revised theory that it was all pointing to one outcome. But still, Avery refused to jump to conclusions himself, at least without more full evidence, even if there was just one person left with things to answer before he knew in the pit of his stomach that he would have everything he needed even if he still hoped it wasn’t true.

And Harriet… then said…

Any words that Avery had been planning to say died in his throat, at Harriet’s confession. And instead, only a few new ones take their place.

  “...Why? What… what happened?”

His voice is small, only heard in the immediate silence after the wThose are two different questions, now aren’t they? 

They won’t refute the confession, because even now, they STILL believe Harriet- Avery had said it before, that he wanted to believe her previous words, even if there was still implied caution in his wording, but that he entirely believed she was shaken up about whatever had happened, because why wouldn’t she be…? That much he still believed, too. Though in this case, of course, he believes her when she says she’s at Fault for this too.

Avery can’t identify the emotions in his chest. There’s more than one, he knows, mixing together painfully, and none of them are Happy. Maybe some kinds of sadness, and some sort of fear, probably anger as well- But the anger alone isn’t consuming him entirely, for once, at least not right now. Because Harriet had been the one to teach him more about how to handle that sort of thing, hadn’t she? And that fact alone is almost funny in a cosmic way, but horribly painful to think about too.

With a swallow, Avery manages to get out just one more thing, trying his best to keep those feelings in check, even if the pain is still audible in his voice.

  “I… know it’s… not needed now, but… the… bruise on Frank’s face, shaped like Meili’s locket- Frank wasn’t… laying on it when we found him, so I’d thought- I’d thought it might have been… him having been hit into Meili’s chest."

"I don’t know if that’s even right, just that… what Bian said makes sense, about… grabbing Frank. But I just- How did it get to that point?”

That’s as many words as he can get out, because his lungs feel like they’re aching, and breathing alone is difficult, strained. Their mind and body feel weak, and he’s sure that his clawed hands would be trembling if he allowed them to be seen above the desk as well.

Avery can’t do any more of this. He’s sure that screaming from others will resume any moment, too. But he wants to… try to hear Harriet out, if she can. So he sits and waits, despite his heart feeling distinctly like it wants to burst. 

#Avery #ch3 #trial3 #submission

[bejun]

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐍 !  𝙰𝚄𝙳𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽 𝚂𝙾𝙻𝙾

𝐅𝐄𝐁. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 // 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳𝙴𝙳 𝚃𝙰𝙿𝙴 … Jun auditions for Next Gen. … 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 - 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 ( 𝟷:𝟶𝟼 - 𝟷:𝟻𝟿 ) 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐅: Changbin > Jisung > Seungmin > Jeongin > Changbin

𝐇𝐞𝐲,  𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚒𝚗 …

It seems like all Junho does is audition. He never makes it through, so at this point he’s really not sure why he’s still trying when he only just recently got that silence that indicated a rejection from Lime. Another one to add to his ever growing list. Though he’d really hoped he’d have a shot, given he’d been street casted. Just goes to show that really doesn’t mean much in the grande scheme of things. But, he thinks, perhaps this will be the last time. His last shot. Or maybe he’s just too stubborn and he’ll never give up. At some point it’s going to start getting embarrassing. He just hopes that point hasn’t already come.

So, he prepares another audition. This time, he’s dancing, rapping and singing. He’s not bad at any of them, but singing is definitely his weakness among the three, and he’s a little nervous it’ll let him down. But, he’s a pro at auditioning by this point. Better to look a it that way, than to see his series of failures for what they were. Thing is, if he even got onto the show, he might not make it to the end, and then, once again, he’d just have another failure to add to his ever growing list. At least, he thinks, he’s not like his parents, to whom failure was something entirely unknowable. 

Jun doesn’t really have anywhere to film the video, at least not easily. He decides it’s best to set a camera up on the kitchen island, pointing out towards the living room, and push the dining table to the side. That way he can get his entire body in the shot, and all that’s visible behind him is the edge of the couch, the spotless coffee table, and the blinds covering the floor to ceiling windows. He’s nervous, but then he typically is for every audition, and at least this one he can do over and over again until he gets it perfect. A video audition is by far the kindest form of audition he’d ever encountered, and he’s going to take this opportunity to get the best video he possibly can. He even buys a mic for his camera to pick up his voice better. 

The big hurdle he has is actually deciding which recording is the best. He’d just filmed one where he’d messed up halfway through, thought he could get away with it, then realised watching it back that he absolutely did not get away with it. So, he prepares for what feels like attempt number 5000, and presses record on his camera and gets into position. “Hi, my names Seo Junho, I’m twenty years old, and I’ll be performing Back Door by Stray Kids.”  He’s got to get this perfect, and so, as he prepares he takes a deep breath, focuses on the emotions he’s trying to convey, and presses play on the music. 

The dance starts off pretty intense, with a kick backwards, mixed with a jump—it’s not easy, but Jun had spent years learning to dance, so he managed to master it in not too many attempts. The hard part of all this is keeping his voice stable as he dances. It’s a good thing he’s not having to do skilful belting while doing this part. From cutting each persons dance bits together into one dance he’d not given himself a lot of room for transitioning into new positions and movements, but he’d put in so much work that he was at least satisfied with the outcome. It didn’t look like a Frankenstein’s monster of choreo, at least. 

The dance is smoother after the rap portion, but now he’s got to rely on his voice, willing it to stay stable as he makes his way through this part of the song, leading up to the chorus when the power comes back in. His voice, he thinks, isn’t bad—he’s had vocal training, and knows how to breathe, how to keep his voice as stable as possible, and yet he knows his range isn’t incredible, that hitting the high notes is tricky for his voice that leans lower. Yet, mircaculously, he makes it through the song, and finishes with his chest heaving. He stops the music and walks over to turn off the camera, giving himself a moment to catch his breath, before checking over the recording. 

Finally, he thinks, as he plays it over once more to check. This one is it. He’s exhausted from dancing over and over, but he’d got what he needed. 

#{ junebug ; solo } #{ solo ; ngs1p1 } #be:ngs1p1 #{ feb. 23 } #{ wc ; 760 }

[codesstarot]

XIV. Temperance: balance

The Temperance card shows a large, winged angel who is both masculine and feminine. She wears a light blue robe with a triangle enclosed in a square on the front, representing that humans (the triangle) are bound by the Earth and natural law (square). The angel balances between one foot on the rocks, expressing the need to stay grounded, and one foot in the water, showing the need to be in flow. She pours water between two cups, symbolic of the flow and alchemy of life. In the background, there is a winding path up to a mountain range, reflecting the journey through life. Above the mountains hovers a golden crown encased in a glowing light, a symbol of taking the Higher path and staying true to one’s life purpose and meaning.

Temperance is the card for bringing balance, patience and moderation into your life. You are being invited to stabilise your energy and to allow the life force to flow through you without force or resistance. It’s time to recover your flow and get your life back into order and balance.

This card calls on you to remain calm, even when life feels stressful or frantic. Maintain an even temperament and manage your emotions. You have learned to keep composed in stressful situations. Little things don’t get to you, thanks to your seemingly abundant source of patience. Your respect for balance and tranquillity is what will help you achieve and experience fulfilment in your life.

Temperance asks you to take the middle path and accommodate all perspectives. Now is not the time to be highly opinionated or controversial. Be the peacekeeper and take a balanced and moderate approach, avoiding any extremes. Include others and bring together diverse groups of people to create harmony and cooperation. By working together, you will collectively leverage the right mix of talents, experiences, abilities and skills.

There is alchemy within Temperance. This Tarot card is about blending, mixing, and combining diverse elements in a way that creates something new and even more valuable than its separate parts. ‘Blending’ can take on many forms; for example, a blended family, an artist who blends different materials or techniques, a bartender who mixes new and exciting cocktails, or a chef who combines different cuisines and cooking styles.

The Temperance card shows that you have a clear, long-term vision of what you want to achieve. You are not rushing things along; instead, you are taking your time to ensure that you do the best job you can. You know you need a moderate, guided approach to reach your goals.

Finally, this card reflects higher learning. You are learning a great deal where you are now and are at peace with what you are doing – it is all coming together well. Your inner voice is guiding you to the right outcome, and you are patiently listening and following.

Reversed:

If you have recently experienced a period of excess, Temperance Reversed is your invitation (or sometimes, your warning signal) to restore balance and moderation as soon as possible. You may have been over-eating, regularly drinking, buying things you can’t afford, arguing with loved ones, or engaging in negative thought patterns. These activities are taking you further away from who you are and what you are here to do. So, it is time to stop. As they say, “Everything in moderation!” Or, you may find you need 100% abstinence to break this negative cycle and bring your life back into balance again.

Temperance Reversed can also be a sign you sense that something is ‘off’ in your life, creating stress and tension. Life is not flowing as easily as you had hoped or there’s a niggling voice from within going, “Wait a second! This doesn’t feel right!” You can ignore it and carry on with life as usual. But, heed Temperance’s warning: If you stay in this state for too long, that voice will just get louder and louder until you pay attention. Or, you can listen to it now and make the necessary adjustments to find your flow once again. Focus on your long-term vision and higher purpose and seek to align your daily activities with this vision.

Temperance Reversed may reflect a period of self-evaluation in which you can re-examine your life priorities. Internally, you may feel called in one direction, but your daily life may not match up to what is emerging. See this as your opportunity to align your higher vibration with your outer world. You may need to change your living arrangements, relationships, career, and daily habits so you can cultivate more balance and purpose in line with your new priorities. Don’t be surprised if you run into tension or even conflict as you align your inner and outer worlds; it’s a natural part of the process of levelling up and creating positive change.

Similarly, the Temperance Reversed can be a call for profound self-healing. By creating more balance and moderation in your life, you open the possibility for such healing to occur. Given the reversal of this card, you are doing it in a way that is personal and private to you, without the influence of others. You know you have what you need to heal yourself and create more ‘flow’ in your life.

Links:

#temperance #major arcana #la templanza

[athenaistired]

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀, 𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂, 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄❞

— 𝐘/𝐍 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 //

tag: @ghost1y-demon

kaeya, diluc and childe reacting to your death: [here]

ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ɪᴅᴇᴀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ ? [ᴄʟɪᴄᴋ ʜᴇʀᴇ]

word count: 3608

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴊᴜʀɪᴇꜱ, ᴍᴀᴊᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄

Being the secret Harbinger meant that there was always a lot of stress and pressure on your shoulders. All the secret missions and assassinations had been on you — since nobody knew your name nor what you looked like. There were legends and rumors, but never facts.

After years and years serving Tsaritsa in complete loneliness and apathy, you finally had been given a partner to a mission in Liyue. You've never been there before, so the higher-ups said that having someone who knew the place well would benefit the outcome of your journey. You were hesitant at first, but did not dare to disobey.

When you first met Childe.. He reminded you somewhat of an animal. A beast that was in constant hunger for bloodshed and adrenaline. Almost instantly when your real identity got exposed his first instinct was to ask you to a match — which of course he had lost.

Ever since then it did not end. You two kept getting missions together, growing in deeper understanding of one another and later swinging swords at each other. But he could never beat you in a fight, no matter how hard he tried — you had no weaknesses.

Or so you thought. One day you were delivering a letter to Tsaritsa herself which was when suddenly a sharp pain pierced your chest and you bent over while coughing into your palm. In horror you noticed that your spit was mixed with blood and pink flower petals.

You've heard of Hanahaki decease. It was first registered in the region of Inazuma, something to do with the curse of an evil Kitsune — but you never thought that a stone-cold hearted person like you could be affected by such. This whole time Childe had been looking for a weak spot in you, just to end up being a weak spot himself.

Months passed in silence as you tried to figure out what Childe felt for you. He knew you better than anyone else and was the best support to you in a fight — so... Could it be that the feeling was mutual? You had no way of knowing, until that one eventful night.

"Y/N this mission is of high danger in Inazuma. We really do suggest you bring your partner with you." The secretary was speaking to you with worry in his voice, but you absolutely refused. The task was to attack the Electro Archon herself, and there was no way you would risk Childe's life for a mission. He was a lot more important than you, and he was weaker than you. He had to stay behind.

"I am leaving without Tartaglia." This was your final word; you walked up to the doors of the room and busted them open to see no other but all too familiar brunet on the other side. His face expression held many emotions, but the main ones were pain, betrayal and rage.

"Do you think I'm too weak, Y/N?" He asked; his voice sounded venomous to your ears which caused an agonic scratch against your heart that you ignored.

"I do." You forced yourself to say it — which was when you noticed his eyes flaring up with absolute hatred towards you that sent a shiver down your spine, "Listening in on the private conversation between the people of higher status than you is a crime—" You tried to stay as professional and collected as possible, but it was hard with the way how he stared into your soul.

"Oh? A higher status?" He mocked you and took a step forward, you mirrored his action by taking a step back, "What a fucking joke." He let out a small laugh, "I hope you'll fucking rot there and never come back." Were his last words to you as he stormed past you while bumping his shoulder into yours. You stumbled; almost losing balance on your feet because you felt lightheaded and sick. Everything in your vision was spinning and you could feel the iron scent filling up your mouth and nose the more you stayed conscious.

"Y/N!" The secretary ran up to you, but you pushed him away and instantly leaned against the wall while getting up, "A-are you alright— We can send someone else if you are feeling sick—"

"I'm alright!" You screamed into his face and in an instant started coughing your heart out. There was blood and petals all over your hands and floor. The poor man looked in shock at you.

"Y/N— Is this what I think it is—" Before he could finish his sentence he had a knife against his throat.

"If you d-dare say anything to a-anyone you won't see the s-sunlight." You threatened him, and he eventually nodded as you pulled the blade away, "You saw nothing." You groaned in pain while leaving.

Inazuma was a beautiful place. The nature was of another kind. There was sea everywhere where you would look, the trees had purple and pink leaves and there were fluffy foxes by each shrine like they were cats or dogs. Perhaps this was not such a bad place to die in.

"You're cursed with a Hanahaki decease." You've been fighting the Electro Archon for few minutes now, and you were already at your limit. You were too weak and fragile for this battle, "Why come to me instead of being with the one you love, outlander?" She asked, and you forced a smile onto yourself. You haven't smiled for ages, but imagining Childe's face and all the good moments that you've shared together brought warmth and pain to your chest. You sharply breathed in for air and fell onto the ground while scratching at your throat, "No matter your answer — I'm certain it's a foolish one."

This was the first time you've lost in a fight, and that happened because you fell in love with a man that despised you.

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂

When you, Diluc and Kaeya were kids you used to always play together outside the Dawn Winery. Usually it would be hide and seek, where you and Kaeya would hide in the most bizarre places while Diluc — who was the oldest one and the most responsible one — would look for you. There was one time when Kaeya hid in the box and you climbed all the way onto the roof, but at some point you lost balance and you could feel yourself falling. You shut your eyes in anticipation of pain and possibly death, but instead you landed into familiar, strong arms of the red hair who frowned at you in worry.

This was the moment when you began seeing Diluc from a different light than everyone else. As years went by, you noticed yourself being loyal to him and following into his steps. The three of you were inseparable all the way to the point when you all became the Knights of Favonius.

"We're all grown up now." Said Kaeya; the three of you were sitting on an enormously large tree in the middle of a field while looking up at the sky full of stars.

"Yeah... Time flies." You chuckled, suddenly your attention got caught by something shining in the dark, "Oh, look! It's a falling star!" You pointed your hand at it and gasped in surprise, "C'mon guys, make a wish!"

"You're so loud." Chuckled Diluc, "Well. What did you wish for?" He asked, and you rolled your eyes at him.

"Dummy, nobody just exposes their wish — or it won't come true." You pouted, and he shrugged.

As your eyes landed on his form once again you could not help yourself but admire him. His long, wavy flaming red hair was so soft to the touch. His pale skin was flawless, his eyes reflected the whole moon in them and his voice was soothing to your ears. You could not get enough of him.

But it all changed after the assassination of his father — Diluc suddenly disappeared from your life and he left behind only two things: his pyro vision and a hanahaki decease, that was slowly but gradually eating you alive. Kaeya provided you with some comfort, but it was not enough. He was not his brother. What did not help is that they grew to hate each other. You slowly watched your childhood crumble apart in front of your eyes.

"The Abyss Order's activity has grown quite large in the Whispering Woods. I would like it for you to go and investigate it." The grand master instructed and you nodded without question.

"Will they be alright on their own?" Kaeya was concerned for your safety, but you reassured him.

"I've been a Knight for years! Have some faith in me." You chuckled and he sighed, "Don't worry, I'll be fine." You said more seriously so that he would believe you.

If you were to be honest, after having Hanahaki decease for months you became your weakest self. You could barely hold the sword in your hand without shaking, you could not use your vision without coughing blood afterwards — overall, you were secretly decomposing in front of everyone's eyes. You felt lost and abandoned by the whole world, especially by Diluc.

In the Whispering Woods you found few Abyss Mages as it had been suspected, and you quite easily took care of them. But on your way home you stumbled onto a Ruin Hunter. This was not the area that they would usually wonder in, so you knew you had to take care of this before some civilians would stumble upon it and get hurt. But soon you realized that the machine was too much for you — with a slice of its blade it cut through your stomach making you fall to the ground with wide eyes. You were going to die, you suddenly realized and felt tears building up at the corners of your eyes.

"Y/N." Suddenly a voice that you have not heard in months echoed in your head, and your eyes widened when you saw Diluc in front of you. The Ruin Hunter seemed to be completely oblivious to the man's presence, "What happened to you?" He spoke so calmly, but strangely you did not question it as much.

"D-diluc..." You whispered, while extending your hand as he simply watched, "Diluc. H-help. Save me..." You begged, and your stomach dropped at his low chuckle, "D-diluc.. I'm d-dying.."

"I know you are." He said, and then leaned in while connecting your foreheads together. There was no warmth coming from his body, and with each second it grew more cold around you.

"I l-love you, D-diluc." You blurted out. At this point you did not care anymore, "Please... Say it back." You were sobbing now.

"How can I tell you that I love you when I am not even real?" At his words you felt your heart physically crack and your throat got completely blocked with tonnes of flower petals; you tried to cough but you could not turn your body the other way so all you could do was helplessly choke as Diluc from your imagination watched, "That night you made a wish for me to come and save you next time..."

"...I see that wish did not come true. I became your downfall in the end." 

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀

Lumine was a nice person. She was kind, she had ambition and goals. She was a strong fighter and skillful elemental user. She was special — one of a kind — and you were nothing in comparison to her. You did not realize that her appearance in Mondstat was going to be the end of everything you loved and treasured; and eventually the end of you.

"Master Jean, I had finished taking care of the Hilichurl camp right outside of the city walls. Is there anything else that I should do?" You asked your boss. The woman slowly rose her head and hummed while forcing on a smile. She looked tired, you noted, like always.

"Ah... I don't think so. You should be happy, Lumine took some of your tasks while you were away." Jean tried to reassure you, but that only brought to you concerns. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

"But... If she took some of the requests that were addressed to my name.. That means she took my job." You tried to hint, but Jean did not understand, "I need money for a living. As much as I appreciate the Honorary Knight and her achievements, I would much prefer if she was not assigned the tasks that provide me with bread and butter." The woman looked in surprise at your rather harsh words, and eventually sighed in defeat.

"I wasn't the one who gave them to her... It was Kaeya." Jean admitted, and your mouth almost hung open, "I think you should talk to them, they went on some quest in the domain." The woman went through the documents on her table and finally pulled out a massive map of the whole Mondstat while pointing at one of the domains, "I think it's this one."

You nodded and bowed in respect, "Thank you for your time, Master Jean. I shall be heading out."

As you walked towards the destination, you tried to imagine what possibly they could have been doing in that domain. The only guess that you could come up with was that they needed ascension materials for Lumine's weapon, since Kaeya's sword was in the best condition that it could possibly be.

You and the Captain of the Knights had been dating for few months now. It was only natural that two people who were constantly assigned missions together eventually had grown to care for one another and fell in love. Which made you wonder why exactly he went into a domain without telling you. Sure, there would be times when you would be both on separate missions, but not in domains.

"I hope they're alright..." You murmured to yourself as you entered inside and made your way through empty rooms. The enemies were all lying dead on the ground, which eventually led you towards a horrifying scene.

Lumine was lying on the ground while Kaeya was on top of her; his body pressing further into her's. Their faces were only inches apart and there was a heavy tension in the air that almost made you suffocate. Your eyes widened — and you gasped aloud at the sharp stabbing pain in your chest that instantly made you cover your mouth. At that, the two of them noticed your presence and immediately got away from each other.

"This is not what it looks like! I promise, Y/N." Lumine instantly defended herself, meanwhile Kaeya... Remained silent. Even more, his gaze told you that he was somewhat... angry? "He just protected me from an enemy's blow and—"

"It's alright." You mumbled as you finally recomposed yourself, "I am happy to know that you are okay and healthy, Lumine. Kaeya, are you injured anywhere?" You made your way towards your boyfriend.

"I am fine, Y/N." He said; his tone was cold, "Why are you here?" Another stab in the heart.

"Why are you here without me?" You fired back while crossing your hands over your chest, to which the other scoffed. Lumine looked back and forth between the two of you as both her and Paimon quickly got uncomfortable.

"Because I came here with Lumine. She needed something for her weapon, so I helped her get it." Kaeya explained himself; he sounded irritated.

"That's alright." You shrugged. You tried to appear as calm as possible as you ignored just how much your throat was burning as if it was getting stabbed with thorns, "I am happy to know you helped the Honorary Knight." You turned to face the blonde girl with her flying companion and smiled, "It's good that the two of you make good fighting partners!" To your horror and disgust that you attempted to mask as much as possible — she blushed while looking away. You could not believe the audacity that this woman had, "Well then.. I'll be heading home. Is there something in particular you would like to eat when you’ll be back?" You turned to speak to your boyfriend, but he shook his head.

"I'll eat at the tavern tonight."

"That's okay. Have good rest of the day you two." As you turned your back to them you remembered why you originally came to find them, "Oh, and by the way. Honorary Knight, refrain from taking my tasks of a Knight. You are taking away my job." After that you walked away with a sour feeling on your mind.

As time flew by, you could clearly see that they were getting closer and closer. Lumine for some reason seemed to be overstaying her initial plans in Mondstat, and had gotten familiar with many citizens. No matter where you went, everything that you heard was about her and her great adventures. Slowly, you noticed that people stopped requesting anything for you to do, and instead all of your clients moved to Lumine and Kaeya. Your life began to slowly crumble apart.

Especially the moment when you found yourself bending over the toilet only to find blood and flower petals floating in the water. You paled at the realization that you were suffering from the Hanahaki decease — which meant two things. Either you became uncertain whether Kaeya loves you or he actually stopped loving you.

"I... Have to find out." Which one it is, your mind finished your sentence for you as you slowly got back on your feet and wiped your mouth clean with a tissue. Blood clots, petals and bits of vomit were all over the bathroom, but you could not be bothered to clean up.

You headed to a single place where you knew you could find him. He stopped coming home in the evening, instead came back to his habit of staying out late at the tavern how he used to do.

"Y/N?" Diluc who was behind the counter looked up at you confused. You looked horrible, you must have assumed, so it was no surprise just how quickly he got concerned, "Actually, good that you came here. Please, tell this fool to—" He could not finish as he got rudely interrupted by his brother.

"And what are you doing here?" Kaeya turned around to face you and based on how he looked you could clearly tell that he was drunk. Lumine was by his side — without Paimon — and it seemed like she had been trying to convince him to stop drinking.

"L-looking for you." Your voice was shaking. It was hard to talk because with each breath it felt like more flowers bloomed inside your lungs, "I-I need t-to talk t-to you.." You whispered, "P-please.. L-let's g-go home.." You begged, but the other just let out a laugh while taking the last shot of his drink with a 'woo!' at the end. Lumine's eyes went round and even Diluc was shocked at the amount he just consumed.

"Get out of here!" He waved you off, "Can't you see I'm having fun?! You keep ruining everything for me!"

"K-kaeya.. This is v-very serious." You tried your hardest to not let whimpers of pain escape you, as you clutched your fist while practically stabbing your fingernails into your skin, "P-please."

"Kaeya, you should go." Diluc tried to get your message across, but Kaeya simply groaned in frustration while rolling his eyes.

"No, no, no!" He pointed his finger at you, "Get the fuck out!"

"Kaeya, calm down!" Lumine shushed him, and surprisingly he actually listened to her and nodded.

"Y/N. I won't be coming home anymore." He finally mumbled out and you took a step back, "I have no home with you." You felt your heart crack in half. Everyone in the tavern listened to the conversation in shock, "I never loved you.. You were just convenient to be with at the time." You slowly shook your head in denial to what you were hearing, "But I finally found someone that makes me happy." He wrapped his hand around Lumine's waist and sealed her lips with a kiss right in front of you.

At that your world completely shattered.

In an instant you began to cough and cough — there was so much blood and roses that soon they were covering the wooden floor all around you. You fell to your knees while greedily trying to breathe — but you could never fully take a breath in. It was torturing and terrifying; your eyes were running around the room in fear and terror.

The ones who appeared beside you were Diluc and Lumine. The two of them seemed to be calling out your name and trying to shake you out of it but it was pointless. You finally began coughing out whole lianas with sharp thorns and one of them cut your esophagus through. You shook in their arms, and limped forward lifeless.

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #writing #genshin scenarios #genshin #diluc #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya genshin impact #diluc angst #kaeya angst #kaeya #kaeya x reader #diluc x gender neutral reader #kaeya x gender neutral reader #diluc x reader #diluc x you #kaeya x you #Hanahaki decease #major character death #heavy angst #childe x y/n #childe x reader #childe x gender neutral reader #childe x you #childe imagines #childe #childe angst

[its-me-im-coraline]

Little Puppet // Ethan Torchio, Damiano David

words // 4261, i have never written this much in one go my whole life, holy shit

warnings // smut, degradation, sub!reader, name calling (ya know, slut and stuff like that), threesome, oral, no explicit mention of protection, but obvi that's not how it should go in real life, anyways.... thats all i can think right now. has not been proofread

pairing // Ethan Torchio x F!Reader x Damiano David (leaning more to Ethan)

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. im going with female reader cause that's how it was requested. here's the smut playlist, def listen to it when you get to the smut part, or the whole time, whatever you want. thanks to anyone who adds songs to the playlist 💘

i feel like i cpupve made it kinkier but at 1 am and with over 4000 words i was a little tired to do that.

request // yes, here

summary // Ethan can not stop thinking of sharing his fwb with his bandmate, Damiano. A thought sparked from a random drunk conversation he had with his best friend will end up with them both pleasing Reader to tears

Experimenting in the bedroom was nothing unusual for Ethan and Y/N. The two had known each other for quite a while, overtaken by attraction but neither was ready for a relationship. Instead the pair opted for a slightly different compromise, one that had no name, no label, for now. While neither had the intention of an actual romantic partnership, it never stopped them from being loving and affectionate towards each other. Neither would ever have to leave before the morning comes.

Thus, as the light shone through his bedroom window, Ethan opened up his eyes, looking at the person laying by his side. Such a beauty, the shy rays of sun laying over the features Ethan so many times observed. It was common to do this in the morning, it would calm him down, especially on the very busy days.

“Anything particular you are thinking of while staring at me, Ethan?” There was no hesitation, no grogginess coming from Y/N’s voice, Ethan realised how he was not the only one awake previously.

“Well, I am, but I am not sure you could handle it,” he responded, smirking down at the laying figure, leaving a few kisses before finishing his reply, “plus, it is too early in the morning for such sinful thoughts.”

“Mhm, as if our endeavours last night were holy,” Y/N laughed, kissing Ethan back, as his lips crushed into hers.

“Well, you were certainly calling god if I recall correctly, cucciola, no?”

Maybe what made this situation not be awkward was exactly the fact that the two were friends. They thrived from the friendly banter, never missed an opportunity to mess with each other. It was just how they were and it worked perfectly to their benefit.

“I can tell it is troubling you, Edgar. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

"It's nothing amore let's just get ready. I'm quite hungry if you must know," he mumbled on her neck, trailing kisses all the way to her lips before abandoning the bed.

“Come on,” he called, ushering the girl to follow him.

Their feet were bare, no clothing no nothing -at least until Y/N pulled a few pieces of clothing for them both to wear- as they walked into the bathroom to start their day. They stood right next to each other as they washed their teeth, washed their faces, fixed their hair and so on and so forth.

“Isn’t that shirt too small for you, dolcezza,” commented Ethan, laughing at his own joke and poking Y/N’s side.

“Eh, well, I can take it off,” she suggested, pulling at the hem of his shirt that she was wearing. That only resulted in a laugh from the tall man, him shuffling her hair and walking out of the bathroom, putting distance between him and Y/N’s complaining about messing up her hair.

After that everything moved quite quickly. Y/N left the cosy home and went to her own house, leaving Ethan with his bandmates to work on their upcoming stuff. She knew how much it meant to him, but she also knew how stressful this career was to him. She always had something small to do to make his days even a little bit more relaxing, of course one of them being their nocturnal activities.

By the time night got around the drummer was sitting at the side of the pool, next to a small table, a beer in his hand as music played in the background. Everyone was doing their own thing: Victoria was swimming, Thomas was preoccupied with a cigarette and his phone and Damiano was sitting on the other side of the previously mentioned table having a conversation with Ethan. It started with speaking about small things before the subject turned more serious.

“You really like her, don’t you?” Damiano had, very early on, caught on his friend’s emotion, he was not very sure that Ethan was aware of his own feelings. It had become a little stupid in the frontman’s mind.

“I am not sure, Dami. She’s great, she is, and we are really close friends but… I don’t know…” Clueless as ever, thought the older man.

“Well, if anything at least you guys have a fucking amazing sex life, everyone can hear,” he laughed out, semi teasing his friend but kind of revaling a piece of information no one had had the heart to tell the tall man.

It caught him by surprise. He was never shy about his sex life, and truth be told he and Y/N never hid their predicament… He simply never thought they were being that loud; maybe that’s exactly the reason he had not understood the others could hear, the reason as to why they were so loud. “Mhm, didn't think you could,” he responded and took a drag of his cigarette.

Damiano copied his action, inhaling his own smoke and releasing it before he decided to say exactly what he was thinking. “Don’t worry about it. I personally don’t mind it, it’s kind of… entertaining.”

If Ethan was surprised before then now he was shocked and blushing. Of course, it was not in his nature to show it, and make this feeling obvious, but he surely had thoughts running through his head now. “So, what? You jack off to us having sex, though about a threesome? What is it?”

“Maybe a bit of both,” said Damiano, looking down at his beer. He was a bit ashamed but at the same time he could not keep his mouth shut, the alcohol overtaking his proper ability to keep some thoughts to himself. “I have to be honest, the noises she makes, they kill me, man.”

Everyone could see the gears in Ethan’s mind turn. On the one hand contemplating his friend’s confession and on the other thinking of all the ways he could punish Y/N for being as loud as she was.“So, if I asked you to join, you’d be in?”

Now it was the frontman’s turn to get shocked and blush, but he certainly could not lie. He would be more than into it, considering the many times he has thought of that, each and every one of them leading to him either taking a cold shower or taking care of himself hoping that it’d be Y/N instead. “Yes, I suppose I would…”

The conversation stayed at that, neither of the two men knowing exactly what to say or do at the time being. Instead they opted to wait it out, see when the proper time comes to bring it up again before deciding on what to do. And that day came soon, sooner than either anticipated.

Y/N had been especially bratty -just maybe two days after the conversation occurred- pushing Ethan to his limit with the teasing, the innuendos and the clothes she was wearing. It was the perfect occasion. A little punishment was in store and the tall man knew exactly how to execute it.

“What the fuck was that?” Ethan’s voice was stern, not nearly close to a yell but authoritative nonetheless, the stoic expression on his face never failing to let Y/N know exactly what he was thinking of: she was going to be fucked, both literally and figuratively, but she was surely into that.

“Such a little slut,” he voiced, pulling the girl to his body, their faces almost touching and their breaths mixing together. A whine left her lips but Ethan was quick to shut it with his words, “you were not complaining when you acted like one, cucciola. In front of everybody as well. Did you see how Dami was looking at you? I’m sure you flashed him at least once all night.”

The girl shivered at what her friend was suggesting, a tingling feeling was taking over her pussy, legs already ready to fail her.

“Maybe he could help me punish you.” These words almost send Y/N in a frenzy. Her eyes widened and her lips parted, an obvious gasp escaping her lips, causing a deep laugh from Ethan.

“You like that idea, don’t you?” She simply nodded her head, mind racing to all the possible outcomes of tonight.

“I need your words, dolcezza. I need your explicit consent to this,” he whispered, holding Y/N’s face in his hands, leaving a kiss just next to her lips.

She softly responded with a yes, voice trembling and low, unable to come out properly. She had gotten probably a little too excited.

“Be a doll and just sit there, yeah. I’m going to go call Damiano. I’m sure he is dying to see how desperate you are to have both of us.” With that the man left the room, presumably going to call his friend over.

When Damiano walked into the room Y/N was violently taken out of her thoughts, the man’s energy overtaking the whole room, his temperament easing any possible worry the girl could have for this situation.

“I’m here dolcezza,” called Damiano, sitting next to her on the bed with the biggest shit eating grin he could possibly have.

“Don’t be so eager, Dami. She’ll be cocky within minutes, we don’t want that.” Always the stern dom he is, Ethan asserted himself over both people in the people. He did not need many words or strong actions to show them who is in charge, a look and his tone were enough to let that be known.

Damiano looked down, in a similar fashion from a few days prior, only this time he was not really shy, more like a puppy that just got yelled at.

“Why don’t you get undressed Damiano, our little puppet over here can not wait to see what you have to offer.” The man mentioned smirked, his confidence reappearing in a second before obliging to his friend’s request.

He decided to play it dirty, going slow, surely attempting to give the little puppet a show. His hands moved slowly, pulling his shirt up and over his head before traveling from his chest to his waist in a seductive way, stopping for just a moment, making sure Y/N’s eyes were right on his own before removing his belt and opening up his pants. In the meanwhile, Ethan had moved Y/N to be sitting on her knees on the floor, in front of the undressing man, eye level with his pants’ zipper.

“Help Damiano, amore. It seems he’s struggling with his pants and you are right where you need to.” She shivered at his words but followed the orders, slowly unbuttoning his pants, her face having moved a little too close -not that it was not welcome- pulling them down and simply gawking at the view in front of her.

She went to move, to please, but her dominating best friend seemed to have other plans.”Not yet, puppet. Come on. This is supposed to be a punishment for you, but we all know how much a cock shucking slut you are. You’ll get his dick but you have more work to do.”

Damiano opposed his friend, already feeling desperate to get whatever he could from the girl below him, dying to feel her lips around his cock, oh and her tongue, oh that tongue he had seen plenty of times devouring ice cream cones in the most pornographic way possible. Sometimes he wished she was in one.

“I think it’s a good start to a punishment, Ethan. She can suck my cocka and then just simply not get it fucking her, yet.” His plan had some practicality to it, knowing very well how much she’d be dying to have a dick buried deep inside her after getting a feel in her mouth.

“I’ll allow it,” said Ethan, starting the process of undressing himself, and looking around the room for anything that could bring more pleasure to everyone involved.

“Well, what are you waiting for, cucciola. Go on, show him how well you blow whistles.” With that the girl wasted no time, pulling Damiano’s boxers down, taking them off him with his help and getting to work. It started off simple, a few pumps at first to get him even harder than he already was (he’d really bet that any man could get hard in seconds seeing her on her knees in front of him, it was a divine view). Her hand was going slowly, her focus on the man’s face, looking up at him all innocently, making sure that his own eyes were on her.

“I am looking at you, dolcezza, don’t worry,” confirmed the man, as if reading her mind.

So, she continued, entirely encouraged to show her best self, to be a good girl for the two men in front of her. Moving on, her hand stayed pumping the man’s cock for a second before her tongue came onto the mix, licking all the way up the curve, a very thick vein getting special attention and then the head. It was already leaking pre-cum, the girl’s antiques driving Damiano insane by the second -and she had not even started blowing him yet. With a push to her head by the singer Y/N really took his cock into her mouth, starting with the head, sucking and bobbing her head a bit, still moving her skilled fingers up and down, with every bob taking more and more of the length reaching a point where she had taken it all. She paused in that place for a second, relaxing her throat, Damiano’s cock resting deep inside her mouth, before she moved in need of breath. The same pattern repeated itself a few more times before the pace got quicker, following the music that was now playing from Ethan’s speaker.

It did not take long for the older man to cum, unexpectedly, in Y/N’s mouth, some delicious sounds leaving her lips and sending vibrations all through his cock, intensifying his orgasm.

“I could have never thought she’s that good, Ethan. Why have you been hoarding her this whole time?” He laughed, all in one breath and blown completely out of his mind.

“Exactly because I know how good she is. But tonight she has been plenty bad, although she’s trying to act all innocent now.”

“I’m a good girl daddy, see?” She questioned, tongue out, showing evidence of her swallowing predicaments, “I took all of it.”

Ethan smiled, looking down to his friend, his big hand holding her jaw and spitting in her mouth as it stayed open. Swallowing that down as well Y/N showed it to the two men, waiting impatiently for the next orders.

No orders came for the time being, Ethan sitting himself on the bed, back resting on the bed frame, opening his legs and motioning for her to sit between them. She clearly obliged, knowing very well that her punishment was already going to be overwhelming but oh so pleasurable and she wanted nothing more.

In all honesty the drummer was played to her needs every time, the punishments being always the outcome she hoped for (except few occasions when she had gotten Ethan so much she ended up edged on for over a week as a punishment, and although the orgasm was spectacular, the wait was torture). Ethan knew it and he was not opposed to it, instead working with the girl’s deviousness.

As she sat between his thighs, back on his chest and palms resting right on his thighs, Ethan used his calves and feet to keep Y/N’s legs spread open, thankful she was wearing a dress and panties that he could easily replace any time he wanted. He prompted Damiano to move between both their legs, face aligned with her pussy, the frontman practically salivating at the sight in front of him.

She had anticipated this night, having bought a cheap but utterly sexy lingerie set online, wearing said lingerie in an attempt to drive Ethan crazy. It was black, with little orange flowers here and there, some lace with mesh material surrounding her pussy, back piece doing little to cover her ass cheeks. Damiano was currently dying at the, almost, disappearance of the fabric due to the wetness leaving absolutely nothing hidden -not that the material could hide much anyway. He moved up, face just a hair’s distance from the wetness, just about to leave a kiss but the other man had different plans.

“Don’t be so eager, Dami, you’ll get what you want in a bit,” he said, palms massaging the girl’s boobs, kisses being left on her neck. “I think she’s overdressed.”

Damiano agreed to the statement, sharing just one simple look with Ethan, reaping the panties apart, her pussy now fully exposed. The singer looked up to his friend once again, a nod of approval being more than enough to shoot the man into action.

His lips swiftly found her clit, not much effort for the skilled man, sucking and kissing the sensitive bud, tongue lapping the juices of her pussy taking advantage of the wetness to stimulate her clit. Y/N’s head fell back, on the drummer’s shoulder, the man taking advantage of the angle and leaving kisses and marks on her neck, one hand always on her chest, the other currently choking her. She moaned so beautifully in his ear, making him harder than he thought he could get, surprised at how well he held himself together.

Damiano kept eating the girl out, fingers starting to dive into her pussy one at a time. He got up to four, said pussy taking them in wonderfully, practically swallowing them within the velvety confines. “I’ve experienced nothing hotter in my life, dolcezza. This pussy is scrumptious, could eat it for days,” he, himself thrusting on the bed, already having gotten hard again, craving some friction. His mouth was leaving wet kisses to her thigh and his fingers were deep inside her, going in and out, Ethan adding his own fingers, playing with her clit edging her closer and closer to the edge.

All the telltales were there: the shaking, the loudness, the closed eyes… She was ready to cum, but it was not something Ethan could allow yet. He stopped his actions, placing a hand on his band mate’s head, said man getting the memo and pausing as well. “You really thought you’d come this easy, amore? Oh no! You have been acting like a desperate slut all day, flashing Damiano and now letting him taste you, knowing it drives me crazy. You have been very naughty,” he explained before shuffling her off his body, moving to stand up.

Y/N could not help but whine, the sound only enabling the two men. “I think she’s been naughty again. Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl, puppet?” She simply nodded head looking down, but not before seeing the look on Damiano’s face. “I think some spanking would put our puppet in place.”

Ethan nodded in agreement, already moving Y/N to bend over the bed, her legs wobbly from her previously denied orgasm. “Count for Damiano, dolcezza,” said the man, leaving a kiss on her back and then starting his actions.

“One.”

Although her words were what was asked of her Damiano was not satisfied, giving her one of his own and speaking up. “Say thank you, puppy, don’t be rude.”

Another spank, “three, thank you,” she followed the orders, jumping forward with every slap on her skin.

As she reached ten it got harder to count. Damiano had started fingering her again, opting to pause his actions after every few thrusts, slamming his palms on her ass cheeks or pussy. It’d be a lie if Y/N said this wasn’t enjoyable-after all she could not stop moaning loudly, but the redness of her ass would disagree.

“Why don’t you keep quiet, puppy? These noises of yours are what got you here. You can’t hide how much you like this, can you, slut?”

For the second time that night, Y/N was on the verge of cumming all over Damiano’s fingers, unable to speak yet again.

“Use,” spank, “your,” spank, “words,” spank.

“I can’t hide, daddy,” she responded, this time leaving an almost screaming moan, eyes rolling all the way to the back of her head, once again almost falling apart.

Before she had the chance Damiano stopped, hands retracting from the girl and into his mouth, tasting her on his lips.

“I think you can take at least one more, puppet. Can you?” Ethan, had been quite distanced this whole time, deciding to let his friend get a taste of his sex partner, but deciding this was the best moment to do his thing.

Y/N nodded in confirmation, letting out a simple “green,” to let Ethan know she was not stopping just yet.

“Beautiful, puppy! You have been doing so good for us, taking your punishment so well, but we are not done yet.” A buzz sound is what concerned the girl, eyes widening at the toy.

It was a small remote virator, imitating sucking on the clit. The drummer placed the girl over his knees, stuffing the toy between his leg and her clit, shocking the sensitive bud. “I think you can take a few more spanks,” said the man, landing one at the expanse of her thigh, the skin giggling at the contact.

“Damiano, count,” ordered the assertive man, seeing his friend kneel in front of Y/N, kissing her and then doing as he was told.

“I think we were left on twenty-three. Twenty four,” he began, counting all the way to forty before the ordeal was over.

The whole time Y/N was shaking, just about to fall off the edge, asking for permission to cum but her wishes were not granted just yet. She was exhausted, overstimulated, frustrated, and now unable to move on her own. But, oh man did she need more. The two men were more than willing to assist her.

“You are doing so well, dolcezza,” praised Damiano, thinking of what to do next.

“Why don’t you get up, puppet. I think it’s time you get what you want.”

At that, her head perked up, already jumping from Ethan’s lap (almost falling while doing so) eager to be fucked and to finally orgasm. “I want you on all fours. You suck me off, Dami can fuck your pussy. I’m sure you’d love that.” She nodded, moving to be in all fours as Ethan stood on his knees on top of the bed, Damiano following suit and placing himself behind Y/N.

“Agh,” he groaned, “sei così bagnata, bambina,” he commented, collecting all the wetness on his cock before pushing inside her.

The action and the moans it emitted caused vibrations to Ethan, making him groan in pleasure, Y/N’s talent to shuck not wavering now. “You like this a lot, puppet, don’t you? Being fucked by my best friend while sucking my cock, huh? You like that?”

She could only hum in response, holes being filled to the brim so pleasurably. It was all better than she expected, more overwhelming, so she could not keep it anymore. She released Ethan’s cock, screaming loudly as her release finally overtook her, Damiano groaning in contentment. He pulled out of her afterwards, jacking himself off a bit before coating her back in his own cum.

Now the only one left unsatisfied was Ethan. His pleasure was cut short for the girl’s release, and although he was not mad, he certainly wanted to feel her.

“Can you handle one more for me, cucciola? You did such a good job so far but I need to feel you.” Y/N nodded and changed her position, this time her legs were in the air, soon to be wrapped around the drummer, eyes half closed in bliss.

“Such a good girl for me,” Ethan praised one more time before he started his rhythm slamming into her. This time it did not take long for both of them to reach their highs, the man riding out both of them and after taking a second to breathe he pulled out, falling right next to her.

“Are you ok?” This time the concerned man was Damiano, a bottle of water already in his hands and ready to give it to the girl.

“Mhm… Thank you,” she mumbled, voice almost a whisper but the smile was hard to miss.

“I think I should leave,” said the front man and he went to get dressed, abandoning the room, leaving only Ethan and Y/N in it.

Ethan got up quickly, looking around for a cloth as he got to the bathroom and wet it with some warm water. Coming back, he used it to clean Y/N up; her back from Damiano’s cum, her face from the cum and her dried up juices and her pussy from the left over wetness, a pair of underwear and a t-shirt in his other hand.

“Come one, dolcezza, you did so good. You’ll go to sleep in just a second. Come one, help me get you dressed,” he voiced and started leaving kisses on her face.

“You took both of us wonderfully, thank you.” Another hum as a response.

Ethan realized how at this point she had fallen asleep, fucked out and exhausted, he did not expect her to stay awake.

“I only wish I could tell you this when you’re awake… I think I’m in love with you."

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11

#måneskin x reader #måneskin imagine #måneskin fanfic #måneskin #damiano david imagine #damiano david #ethan torchio imagine #ethan torchio

[silkylious]

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.” (Lucifer x Reader)

fandom: obey me! shall we date?

pairing: lucifer x gn reader

warnings: angst, fluff (mildly lol), suggestive (nothing explicit though!), bittersweet, ambiguous ending (??), unedited 

wc: 2.1k

“Lucifer?” you called out to him on a whim, eyes trailing the seconds ticking away on his grandfather-clock.

“Yes?” he didn’t spare you a glance as he worked methodically through his second hill of paperwork; a heaping stack of duties assigned to him by Diavolo, endless bills–a consequence of Mammon’s latest spending spree, you ought to talk to him about those soon–and the sort piled neatly on his pristine desk, slowly but surely decreasing in size as Lucifer burned through the tedious task with unwavering efficiency. You felt exhausted just watching him work. Lucifer? He hadn’t so much as blinked more than three times in the past five minutes (yes, you counted). Obsidian sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, hair perfectly framing his face with one strand slightly out of place–hot–and a gentle crease between his brows (the only observable hint alluding to the mounting stress on his shoulders). He looked positively delectable, nothing like someone who’s been working diligently for hours without any breaks. But that just served as a testament to the fundamental difference between the two of you, you supposed.

“I’m in love with you,”

That made his meticulous fingers pause in their tracks.

“Pardon?”

As it turned out, his ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived him. You repeated the confession as if it weighed nothing on your tongue. You were strangely calm given the words you’d just blurted out; he almost didn’t recognize you. An unfamiliar shade of desperation painted all over your face, and yet your voice bared to him a serene conviction, one he’d never heard from you before. Lucifer’s heartbeat stumbled in your wake.

Basking in your courageous display just a second longer, he sighed. Too bad he’d have to mutilate such a pretty sight so soon.

That didn’t go exactly as he’d planned. The harsh rejection barely deterred you, leaving only a petulant pout on your lips and a promise that you’d come talk to him later.

Lucifer was anything but stupid. He knew that he let things stray too far between you, knew it was his fault for not pulling away from your kisses and instead indulging you (and himself) to the fullest. His fault for ignoring the guilt that settled deep in his gut like hunks of steel when you looked at him like he’d never experienced before. Lucifer had lived for many millennia, had relished the warmth of countless passionate lovers and faceless hookups, none of which had ever set him alight from the inside out like your adoring gaze had. It terrified him how after all these years, watching humans thrive and collapse over and over again, he thought he’d seen everything there is to see, all that humans had to offer. And then you come along, reinventing what love meant right before his eyes, with a simple look no less.

He never intended for you to fall in love with him, and he never intended to reciprocate. Had he been mortal, maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. But life dealt a cruel hand, and he wasn’t. A relationship like yours was doomed to crumble in heartache from the start, it was best to stop it before things went too far. That was the plan anyway.

You didn’t share the same sentiment.

With one last exasperated sigh, Lucifer focused his attention back on his duties. He didn’t know how long he could hold up against your persistence, and honestly he preferred not to dwell on it. Whatever outcome lied for the both of you in the near future, itching one step closer with each tick on the clock, he’d face it head on when it was time.

Meanwhile, you laid wide awake, in your bed, rethinking every decision that led you here. You didn’t regret your confession, nor were you keen on giving up, but Lucifer’s ruthless rejection, his vehement claim that a relationship between a human and a demon is destined to end in tragedy festered a bud of doubt in you. You noted pettily that he hadn’t outright denied any feelings for you. How could he? Lucifer was many, ugly things but a liar’s not one of them; you wouldn’t believe him even if he did lie, not with how delicately he holds your hand in his gloved one, not with how heartbreakingly beautiful he was when he lets you in at his lowest, stripped completely of his pride.

You knew though, that as much as Lucifer was a creature of the past, he was a creature of regrets.

Somehow, you’d managed to reach the heart of the Avatar of Pride himself, bestowing a porcelain touch on it and subsequently rocking the monotony of his endless life. Despite the acknowledgment of both your feelings, you weren’t naïve enough to dismiss how his heart drums thousands of years apart from yours and would continue to do so long after yours gave its last valiant pump.

He was a creature of the past you realized; humans intently watch minutes, hours, years approach because there’s only so much of them live out, there’s only so much to do in a lifetime. Naturally it would be counterintuitive to waste scarce time on the past. The immortal have no such concern. When time is limitless, and life is all but a blur of recycled events, its only instinctive to lose interest in what’s to come. And you guessed, maybe there was a strange comfort in the predictability of eternity, maybe that’s why Lucifer was so offput by the notion of something serious yet temporary, especially romance.

You decided. You wouldn’t let him look back and ponder what ifs in that stubborn head of his, not while you were still breathing. With regained determination, you glanced one last time at your countertop alarm and entered a dreamless slumber.

Not even two days later, three consecutive raps on his door made Lucifer rub at his temples for the nth time and begrudgingly called for you to enter. Piled on his desk were several stacks of papers (as was the usual), though, that night he was in a particularly sour mood. Ever since your confession, he’d been feeling uneasy, Diavolo hurling more work at him last minute was only pushing him to his wit’s end.

“Lucifer,” he hummed in response, not bothering to conceal his growing agitation. “we need to talk,”

Ah, there it was. He was wondering when you’d confront him again.

“I believe I made myself quite clear last time,” he sighed, dropping his pen and finally meeting your eyes. “If this is about your feelings again then I’m sorry but I can’t–”

“But why? Can you really say that what we have isn’t special at all?” your lower lip quivered just a bit and Lucifer had to fight the immediate reflex of holding you close and hushing your worries. His impassiveness quickly arose frustration out of you. “God Damnit, Lucifer! All I want is to be with you while I still can! To die with no regrets, knowing you’ll be there with me, but it’s very fucking hard to do that when you’re too scared of the future to do something about–about us!”

It was a low blow to go after his pride, you knew that, but he wasn’t giving you much to work with.. Rubbing salt in a ghastly wound had certainly done the trick, the dimmed crimson that pooled just below his pupil began to shine scarlet. You would have found it gorgeous had it not been imbued with near murderous intent. Lucifer’s poker face was rapidly breaking, a horrid mix of anger and melancholy sat heavy in his throat. He was looking straight at you, but his eyes were somewhere else, some time else. He was staring hundreds of years behind you at an unhealed, poorly bandaged cut. An everlasting guilt he carried with him everywhere.

“What would you know about regret?” he breathed out the words like they’re bullets, whatever restraint he’d managed to scarp together deteriorating. He stepped closer, each stride bigger than the last as he closed the distance between you, a perfect diamond manifesting on his forehead and you could see the beginnings of black feathers sprouting from his back. “Do you have the slightest clue what a blessing mortality is? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to live with your regrets and not be able to die with them?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you stood your ground. “But, do you really want to live with one more regret to bear?”

He kissed you. He kissed you like he hated you, animosity and anger and pain and, most prominently, pining spilling from his lips. Lucifer parted from you just as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, taking the time to let his irritation bleed out of him, until he was left grappling with (frankly terrifying) longing and adoration. Just this once, he’d take a leap of faith, he’d break his own rigorous code and take the risk of undying heartache in the future to be with you in the now.

One kiss turned into many, and soon you found yourselves stumbling your way from his office to his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of you, the thought that some day he would be deprived of you broke him and made him yearn to cherish you just as much. Precious things aren’t meant for longevity, he learned. All the more reason to treasure them when given the chance. You were pushed onto his bed and not once did his hands and mouth and breath leave your skin; he couldn’t bear sever that connection.

Before long, your hands were pined to the mattress, fingers tightly laced with his as if he was petrified the moment will break and a thousand years would pass you by the instant he let go.

“I love you. Truly and deeply.”

Neither of you heard the clock strike midnight.

Lucifer was well-acquainted with sleepless nights. He was no stranger to the prick at the corner of his eye, excruciatingly familiar with midnight’s cold, lonely touch. But this one was different. Where usually lied a cool emptiness in his sheets, your warm, inviting body was just in reach. Where the corners of his mind were usually plagued by past mistakes and sorrowful repentance, you were all he could think about. He reflected on your words now that the high of emotions had worn off. He still disagreed with you on many things and, if he was being true to himself, it would take more than one night to abandon his reluctance, much more. But he was willing to put in his fair share of effort. He was willing to do many things for you, he mused. You were right about one thing though, regardless of whether or not he acted on his feelings, your parting would hurt all the same. Part of him was still resentful that he let himself fall so deeply in love with you, and a part of him knew it couldn’t be helped. You’d carved a home for yourself out of his heart, invited yourself in and declared pompously you’d be there to stay, and he’d be damned to hell all over again if he said he didn’t like that.

Pulling you closer to leech off your warmth, for the first time in forever, he dreamt of the future, a future with you.

Snapping out his reverie, Lucifer refocused his vision on the framed picture before him. It’s been a couple dozen years, the pain dulled into a hollow longing, and yet not a single regret weighed on his back. He was astonished, how you, who had lived but a fraction of his own lifetime, had such impeccable foresight. He lays in bed every night and morning thanking you for not giving up, knowing that if you had, he’d be spending the rest of his infinite days in self-loathing regret.

All Lucifer could ask for now is a little guidance. What was he to do now? Was he even capable of falling in love again after you? Would he allow it? All questions that began frequenting his head since you’re no longer there to occupy it. He only knew is that he’d love you, and love you, and love you until this world fell apart. He toyed with the idea of reincarnation. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; he saw you in everything he did. Strange how you’d taught him more about appreciating every day’s mundanities than he had in the many eons he’s been alive. Lucifer wonders about the possibility of you donning the same white wings he once had back in the Celestial Realm. If you ever did, he wonders about the complications that would arise from that, he wonders if you’d even remember him. All Lucifer was left with was a simple truth. If you ever came back, whichever form you may take, he’d welcome you back into the adobe of his heart without a second thought.

He ran his thumb over your smile, a bittersweet acceptance in his own.

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.”

Obey me! taglist: @katsucookie @strwbry-m1lk​ (you wanted to be tagged in this one lol) join my taglist here! <3

#obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x y/n #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x mc #obey me lucifer #obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer angst

[makeste]

some follow-up thoughts on BnHA 285

1. “at that moment...”

you guys. I still can’t get over this. just -- guys. this is Kacchan telling the story.

he’s not the first character to narrate, mind you. characters like Twice, Tomura, Ochako, and Kirishima have all narrated in the past. but it’s always been past-tense narration of their own flashbacks, or else present-tense narration explaining their thoughts (e.g. Twice in chapter 115). Kacchan himself has done present-tense POV narration before. but this isn’t that. this is past-tense narration of an event that’s happening now. this is the future Kacchan narrating the present day Kacchan’s story.

has any other character done that, aside from Deku himself?? am I just crazy overreacting here, lol. idk but either way it’s cool.

2. “...there were no thoughts in my head.”

there was a post yesterday talking about Kacchan’s big moment at the end of this chapter being a little disappointing because of it being an automatic “my body moved on its own” save on Kacchan’s part. the argument was basically that it made the moment less meaningful because of it being a subconscious thing rather than a conscious decision on Katsuki’s part.

but I disagree! for me the “my body moved on its own” is actually way more impactful. and rather than describing it as “subconscious”, I think the word that fits better in this case is instinct. first of all, even though he says there were no thoughts in his head, we know that’s not exactly true, as we can see for ourselves the images that were flashing through his mind. I’m just gonna list them out:

“I’ll even surpass All Might and become the best hero out there.”

“why was it me who put an end to All Might?”

“I made a pledge! I will achieve absolute victory, every time! we’re taking this 4-0, no casualties! the strong don’t settle for anything less!”

“I’m not gonna lose... I can’t afford to stay a loser!”

“you... you looked like you needed saving.”

thoughts about what it means to be a hero. what it used to mean to him, and what it means to him now. thoughts about rescuing others. about saving to win. thoughts about his failures. thoughts about him and Deku. and last but certainly not least, vivid memories of a moment when he needed someone to save him, and Deku was there.

he has these thoughts, but he’s not aware of himself having them. it happens too fast for him to be able to process. but all the same, his body isn’t just moving here of its own accord. it’s simply that in this instance, it’s not thought that’s driving him, but emotion. at the risk of sounding INCREDIBLY CORNY, it’s not his head that makes the decision, but his heart.

and that’s why it’s so meaningful to me. in this moment, it’s not conscious thought that’s driving him, but emotion, instinct, will. he sees the attack, sees that it will hit Deku, and he just reacts. something at the core of him screams that he can’t let it happen, and he just moves. and to me that’s even more powerful than him consciously doing the math and making the sacrifice play (though I’m not saying I wouldn’t have enjoyed that as well). specifically because it’s a moment where he doesn’t have a chance to think or analyze or panic or doubt. it’s a moment that shows us who he is when you strip all that away from him. he doesn’t have time to get in his own head; he doesn’t have time to feel any fear; he doesn’t have time to think about himself at all. he takes himself out of the equation. he sees that Deku needs saving. and the rest is pure instinct. it’s the most heroic he has ever been.

3. “even if One for All is a cursed power... at the same time, it’s...”

I was wondering what was up with this part, lol. Caleb’s translation makes it much clearer; to Katsuki, OFA is both a blessing and a curse right now. the “cursed” part is becoming more and more obvious with each new chapter. it’s putting Deku in danger; it’s made him a target; it’s destroying his body; and there are other, darker and more dangerous factors also at play that Katsuki doesn’t even know about but fears nonetheless. I honestly feel like he’s been anxious about all of this ever since he learned Deku and All Might’s secret. it’s been on the back of his mind for months now.

but at the same time, OFA is what brought him and Deku back together. sorry, am I getting cheesy again lol. BUT IT’S TRUE THOUGH. All Might’s quirk gave Deku the chance to compete with Katsuki on equal footing for the first time. it forced Katsuki to acknowledge him. and both he and Deku have grown so much on so many levels over the course of this past year, and all of it stems back to Deku receiving this quirk.

and just... fucking look at these flashbacks, though.

unless I’m reading this completely wrong, the gist of this scene is that Katsuki is grateful for OFA because it’s what lifted Deku up and allowed him to try and achieve his dream. the scenes of Katsuki bullying Deku and burning his notebook are contrasted with the scenes of Deku standing up to him and vowing that he won’t be his punching bag anymore. Deku before OFA, contrasted with Deku after. I get the sense that Katsuki feels a lot of gratitude for fate stepping in and working to undo his mistakes before he himself could finally get his act together and start atoning for them as well.

and then that last page is really interesting, because it’s like the “blessing” and “curse” parts of OFA all together in a single image. Deku is going all out against Tomura, giving everything he has, ready to sacrifice himself if that’s what it takes. there’s so much strength there (even though he looks completely insane lmao), but at the same time it’s literally killing him. mixed feelings, for sure.

4. “Katsuki Bakugou: Rising”

last but not least! so there’s quite a bit of discussion going on about what exactly a “rising” chapter actually consists of, lol. Momo is the only other character who’s had one before (at least if you don’t count the movies, and the movie spin-offs). so it’s hard to say for sure with such a small sample size, but if I had to guess, I’d say the “rising” chapters are about characters coming into their own as heroes. Momo’s chapter was all about her letting go of her insecurities and starting to believe in herself. and this chapter was all about Katsuki letting go of both his fear and his pride, and just getting the job done.

in the span of a single chapter, he lets go of every single thing that’s ever held him back. I felt like we really got a glimpse of the hero he can -- and hopefully will, if future!Kacchan the Narrator is anything to go by -- become. he was amazing. he took charge; he came up with a plan that absolutely would have worked if Tomura wasn’t LITERALLY FUCKING UNKILLABLE LULZ; and when that failed, he didn’t hesitate to make the sacrifice play. Bakugou fucking Katsuki, He of Zero Rescue Points, made the fucking sacrifice play. do you even know how much I love that you guys. I love it so, so much.

but of course, when you make the sacrifice play it tends to have the not-so-surprising side effect of getting you ALL FUCKED UP afterwards. so perhaps a less ideal outcome than he would have hoped. but he still did good. and he stopped Deku from getting murdered, and so now hopefully Deku and Shouto can mount some sort of aggrieved revenge counterattack to do their fallen friend justice. time for my other two sons to get to work! maybe Shouto can make Deku some new arms out of ice.

#bnha 285 #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bnha meta #bakugou meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

[chyanxrene]

Paris - ft Blaise Zabini

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Blaise Zabini x Y/N

♡ Summary: Threesome with Draco and Blaise, that’s all

♡ Warnings: Explicit content, just pure smut, MxMxF, anal (ish), degradation, drugs, alcohol, spitting (let me know if I’ve missed anything)

If you looked up confidence, you'd see Y/N's name under there, she knew what she wanted and with a few simple words she could get it. Regardless of how others saw her, the negative comments they made, she ignored them— typical signs of jealousy.

It only boosted her ego further.

Sure, she slept with quite a few boys over a number of years, but that didn't make her a slut— as others called it. She enjoyed sex as much as the next male, it was her body and she could do as she pleased with it.

It was her seventh year in Hogwarts, the final year. After the war, many students weren't too bothered about the exams, most still reeling from the aftershock of the lives lost and numerous casualties.

However the one thing about the war which was seen as a positive, was that all the houses congregated into one. The four houses that once stood tall, rivalling against the other every year, now stood together.

Of course there were some objections— mainly from the Slytherins and Gryffindors, however everyone shortly after accepted the new outcome.

Y/N was grateful for the change, this meant she was able to meet with people that she hardly spoke with, she enjoyed learning about others traits and being surrounded by good company.

And most of all, she enjoyed a good party.

That's where she first met Draco Malfoy, it was the beginning of the seventh year. She'd never spoken with him before. Slytherin were always secretive when it came to their parties, so she had never been to one, until a few months ago.

Obviously she saw had him around school, in a few of her classes, but they'd never spoken. So after one too many shots, the party ended quickly, ending with the pair tangled in his silk green bedsheets.

Bodily fluids, and the smell of sex and alcohol still surrounding them.

It was always a one time thing with Y/N, she made sure she never went back to the same male, or female twice. Relationships were not on the table for her, so she didn't want to disappoint anyone.

The same could be said for Draco, he clearly had the same thoughts as Y/N, which led to the pair hooking up a few times per week. No feelings were involved at all, which is just how they liked it.

Rough, filthy, sheet-clawing sex is what he gave her. Y/N was used to being the more dominant and controlling one in the bedroom, but it appeared she had met her match.

It was a Friday evening, Y/N usually spent her nights in the dungeons, drinking and relaxing with the former Slytherins. Usually ending her night in Draco's room, but today she had an idea, today she wanted more.

She carried her flask into the common room, no more passwords so she easily walked in. The smell of the room instantly flooding her nostrils, cannabis and alcohol.

Pansy had her arm draped across Theo's shoulder, taking the blunt from him and placing it between her lips. She took a long, slow pull, holding the smoke within her mouth for a few moments. She grabbed Theo's chin, forcing his mouth open before blowing the spoke into his mouth.

"Starting the party without me?" Y/N laughed, rounding the chairs and settling in front of the couple.

"You're always late, Y/N, then again not even Draco's here, so I guess you're not that late," Pansy lazily smiled.

"Where is Draco anyway?" She frowned, looking around the room, which only Theo and Pansy occupied.

"Probably shagging someone— who knows," she laughed, she dabbed out her blunt and leaned back into the plush sofa.

"Respect me a little Pansy," Y/N heard a sharp voice coming from the top of the stairs, she turned her gaze to investigate the face of the voice.

There he was, dressed in his turtle neck and school trousers. Blaise stood next to him, the pair glanced at Y/N, and then whispered amongst themselves. Usually she didn't react to whispering that she knew was about her, but this made her feel some type of way.

It wasn't nervousness, it was pure excitement, she had wondered if Draco had the same idea as her. But by the look on his face, she knew he had the same idea. They were similar in many ways, perhaps in an alternate universe they would've been together, but not in this one.

Draco and Blaise strolled down the stairs, talking between themselves, Draco's hand gestures appeared to show enthusiasm to what he was saying. Blaise had a smirk across his mouth, taking in everything that Draco was informing him.

Y/N watched their every move, waiting for them to join the threesome in the centre of the room. Draco found his place beside her and Blaise sat on the spare sofa to the right of them.

"It's rather cozy tonight, don't you think Y/N?" Draco spoke, interrupting the silence that everyone had previously sat in.

She nodded slowly, taking a swig of her flask. The alcohol burning her throat, she could almost feel it flow through her bloodstream.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, and then lit another blunt, "what are you up to Draco?" She laughed, handing the now lit blunt over to Blaise.

Y/N watched as he placed it between his lips, his eyes closing as he inhaled, opening shortly after when he exhaled. Y/N felt a tingle in her lower stomach from just watching the action.

"Nothing Parkinson, just noting the coziness of this room," Draco smirked, his eyes glanced to the side of Y/N's face.

He took the flask from her, forcing Y/N to let out a groan of protest, but he ignored it. He swallowed the rest of the contents in the flask, dropping it back into Y/N's lap.

Some liquid lingered on his bottom lip, a droplet close to streaming down his chin. But Y/N caught it just in time, using the pad of her thumb to collect the liquid and brush it back onto his lower lip.

Draco's gaze was heavy, a darker shade of blue now in place of the grey hue that they usually had. The tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lower lip slowly.

He maintained eye contact with Y/N, he wasn't tasting the alcohol— no, he was tasting her.

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat as she watched him, his eyes never left hers. But they did flick from her lips to her eyes a few times. Draco Malfoy was a tease, and she loved it.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" Theodore laughed, he grabbed everyone's attention by his sudden suggestion. Pulling Draco and Y/N out from the current trance that they were both in.

"Sounds fun," Blaise muttered, his eyes notably heavier from the drugs that he had consumed.

"How about, never have I ever?" Pansy raised and eyebrow, looking at everyone's faces to see if someone were to disagree.

"I love this game," Y/N replied, sitting up eagerly waiting for the game to start.

"I'll start," Pansy spoke, "never have I ever, had sex with someone in this room," she smirked, raising her cup to her mouth.

Everyone followed suit, it was an easy question, something to warm everyone up. Theo was next, he took some time to calculate his question, or maybe he was just slow because of the blunt he had smoked.

"Never have I ever, thought about fucking a teacher," he smirked, drinking a shot of his drink quickly.

Unfortunately for Theo, no one else agreed with him, so he was now the recipient of a room full of laughs towards him.

"You're sick in the head," Blaise laughed, almost coughing from how hard he had laughed.

"Okay, I'll go next," Blaise smiled, "never have I ever wanted to sleep with my best friends partner,"

The shots were consumed by everyone, up next was Y/N, the alcohol had already gone to her head. Igniting all of her senses, she desperately craved to be touched, her skin raising with goosebumps from the lack of it.

Draco placed his hand over her knee, his thumb rubbing circles around her skin. Y/N was grateful that a he had opted to stay in her uniform for the rest of the day.

She cleared her throat, "never have I ever had a threesome," Y/N smiled, not drinking anything as that wouldn't be true. Pansy, Blaise and Draco on the other hand, gulped their drinks.

"And no one told me?" Theo frowned, Pansy slapped the back of his head, "you're too emotional when it comes to sex Theo," she laughed.

"Fuck you Pans," he chuckled. It was finally Draco's turn, he waited for a moment, swirling his cup in his hand, watching the brown liquor almost spill off the edges.

"Never have I ever, thought about fucking two people in this room at the same time," Draco spoke, raising his head to watch Y/N's answer.

Pansy scanned the room, squinting her eyes, she shrugged and then drank her drink. None of the males consumed their alcohol, so they waited for Y/N, to see what her answer was.

Y/N felt the rooms air become heavier, almost stuffier. The heavy smell of Draco's cologne, mixing with the light touches he pushed onto her skin, made her wet. There was no more denying it, or trying to fight it off.

Y/N downed the rest of her drink, dropping it onto the table in front of her.

"How did you know?" She whispered to Draco, however she didn't look at him, she didn't want to make it too obvious.

"Your eyes give it away all the time— tell me who you want, and I'll bring them for us," his breath was close to her ear, he kissed her earlobe and leaned back, fingertips still brushing up and down her bare thigh.

Y/N knew exactly who she wanted, she didn't need to think about it twice, "Blaise," she said, now facing Draco. He raised his eyebrow, his signature smirk forming onto his lips already.

"As you wish, darling," he smiled, "I'll see you in ten minutes," that wasn't a question, it was an order. Y/N knew what he meant, 'go to my room and wait for me there'.

So she did, waving goodbye to Theodore and Pansy, who were in a world of their own.

She climbed the stairs, the adrenaline edging her already. Excitement filled her body, she'd wanted this for weeks, ever since she first spoke with Blaise. The deep, soothing voice, she instantly imagined him talking her through an orgasm, and from then on she wanted him.

Y/N made it to Draco's room, she settled onto his bed, that she had grown do accustomed to throughout these past months. She kicked off her shoes, then placing them to the side as Draco hated a messy room.

It seemed like forever since Draco had told her to go to his room. She decided to make herself comfortable, propping herself up onto her elbows and flexing her toes.

She heard muttering from outside the door, signalling Draco and Blaise had arrived. She sucked in a breath and waited for them to enter the room.

Draco walked in first, holding a bottle of fire whiskey, Blaise followed behind, he had removed his tie grasping it firmly between his fingers.

"There's my little angel," Draco brightly smiled, even though he would never be with her, he still adored her and cared for her. So every compliment he gave to her, he meant with his entire heart.

"Hi Draco," Y/N said, greeting him in a friendly voice, Draco then frowned, which made Y/N raise her eyebrow, "you're not going to greet Blaise Y/N?" He tutted.

Draco strolled over to her, grabbing a hold of her chin firmly, "where are your manners," he spat, looking directly into her eyes.

She licked her lips, a playful glint in her eyes, "my apologises, hello Blaise," she smiled. Blaise nodded, throwing his tie over to Draco, who swiftly caught it with one hand.

Draco hummed in response, nodding towards her wrists, she held them up immediately, holding them together whilst waiting for Draco to bound them.

"My sweet girl," Draco mumbled, pressing a kiss onto her forehead, he tied her wrists together, then secured them to his bed frame, "how are you feeling," he asked.

A standard question, each time they had intercourse, he needed to know how far to push her.

Y/N smiled, "perfect."

He nodded, and moved towards the end of the bed, he gripped each ankle of hers and dragged her closer to him. The harsh movements caused Y/N to let out a unexpected moan.

"Blaise," Draco said, nodding towards his friend. Y/N watched as Blaise made his way beside her, sitting on the bed so his back was facing Draco. He stroked the fallen hair out of her face, his movements were soft, just as she expected.

Draco settled onto his knees between Y/N's legs. He widened them, pushing her skirt up so her underwear was on full display. Her arousal apparent, the red underwear she wore was visibly darker in the centre.

"I can't wait for you to taste her Blaise," Draco growled, his hands gripped each thigh, spreading her legs further apart.

A hum came from Blaise, noticeably deeper than Draco's however the effect was still the same. As Draco left kisses on her inner thighs, Blaise took the time to leave wet, sloppy ones across her jawline.

Y/N's eyes screwed shut, feeling Draco's fingertips brush the centre of her underwear, he let out a breathy laugh from hearing her own heavy breaths.

Blaise quickly tangled his fingertips between her hair and forced her head up.

"Watch him," he whispered, his eyes were stern, a warning in his voice. She became intrigued to know what would happen if she didn't.

He continued holding Y/N's head up, his spare hand unbuttoning her shirt, revealing the lace red bra that matched her underwear. Blaise let out a sigh, diving forwards and kissing her chest.

Y/N's eyes never wavered from Draco's, she watched as he curled a finger underneath her underwear, the cool air penetrating her sensitive skin. He shot her a wink, and snapped the underwear against her skin, a hiss resulting in the action.

"Please— Draco," Y/N pleaded, Blaise's mouth never stopped, his teeth and tongue nipping and sucking along her chest. Leaving red and purple bruises in its wake.

"Oh, look Blaise, she's begging," Draco chuckled, his thumb ran up and down her clothed pussy, forcing the lace material against the soft skin.

"Of course she is," Blaise smirked, he pushed her bra down, revealing her breasts.

Draco took the opportunity to fully snap her underwear, leaving her cunt exposed, the warm arousal now cooling instantly against the cold air.

He leaned down, breathing against her pussy, the smell of her arousal made his cock strain against his boxers. Both of the boys movements were timed a little too well, as if they had planned this.

Draco licked a long strip up her pussy, swirling his tongue around her clit before sucking on it. Blaise, similarly done the same, swirling his tongue around her nipple before sucking on it.

The sensations drove Y/N insane, the stimulation that both boys were providing her with was unlike any other. She wanted more, she was greedy, so she would get more.

As usual, Draco groaned at her taste, dipping his tongue in and out of her hole, gathering the wetness on his tongue to lubricate her clit— not that it needed it.

Blaise massaged her breast, removing his mouth fully from it, he leaned up close to her ear. His breathing heavy, almost panting. A finger suddenly slipped into her pussy, curling instantly to stroke her g spot.

"Oh— God it feels so good, don't stop," Y/N whined, her hips bucking at the feeling. Blaise's hand held her hip down, securing her in place, "don't be impatient," he whispered in her ear.

Sweat formed across her forehead, the coil inside her threatening to break soon. Draco used this as an advantage, stretching her out with not one, but two extra fingers.

Y/N gasped, and then moaned loud, a little too loud for Blaise's liking. He shoved three fingers into her mouth, preventing her from letting out a single word.

"Do you like when he fucks you with his fingers, hmm— Y/N?" Blaise spoke, his deep voice hot against her ear.

Draco continued thrusting his fingers in and out, flicking his tongue up and down her clit.

"Answer me princess," Blaise repeated, he too began thrusting his fingers in and out of Y/N's mouth, however not as harshly as Draco.

Y/N nodded eagerly, tears forming at the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall at any moment. Saliva escaped from the sides of her mouth, falling down her chin.

"You want to cum?" Blaise asked, he had a fake pout on his face, watching poor Y/N struggle against his tie.

Draco removed his mouth, leaning up onto one hand, the other still pushing in and out of her. His mouth was shiny from her arousal, he licked his lips and stared at Y/N, waiting for an answer.

"Answer him," Draco demanded, slowing his movements, Y/N let out a disgruntled moan, her eyes pleading with both boys to let her cum. Blaise removed his fingers, allowing her to breathe— and then speak.

"Please, please," her voice hoarse, tears fell down her cheeks, as Draco continued to edge her, knowing exactly how to bring her to the brink and then take her back down again.

Blaise turned his head back to Draco, "make her cum."

Draco nodded, thrusting his fingers out mercilessly, he eyed her every movement. Each heavy breath, each shake of her leg, he watched it all, he was in awe with how responsive she were to him.

"Shit," Y/N rasped, her orgasm tumbling through her body. Her legs shook uncontrollably, her mouth opening to let out a scream but it was muffled by Blaise's lips.

His tongue entered her mouth, flicking and sucking her own. Draco slowed his movements, the wet noises from her cunt, was music to his ears. He removed his fingers, pushing them straight into his mouth.

Her taste was delicious, if she'd let him, he'd do it all day, just to taste her.

Blaise's mouth left her own, leaving her breathless, he reached above her, undoing the tie. Y/N had almost forgotten the ache she experienced from having her arms stretched above her head.

"Let's put that mouth to good use," Draco said, undoing his belt and ushering her towards him. Y/N scrambled to the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of where Draco now stood.

"Tell me how you feel, darling," he whispered, brushing her crimson cheek with his fingers.

"Amazing," Y/N smiled, tilting her head back so her neck was on display. Blaise sat behind her, collecting her hair into a pony tail.

Draco looped the belt around her neck, securing it so it gave her little room to breathe, just how she liked it.

Her hands fumbled with his button and zipper, eager to please him. She heard Blaise behind her, repeating the action. Draco lifted her head using the belt, "you'll be a good girl won't you?"

Y/N nodded, the pair both gave each other a brief kiss, before Y/N was pushed down into an arch by Blaise.

Draco pulled down his trousers and boxers, revealing his hard erection. The tip oozed with pre cum, which made Y/N's mouth water.

He brushed her hair, massaging it and stroking it at the same time. Y/N jolted forward, feeling Blaise run two fingers up her leaking pussy, he collected her cum onto his finger tips and then licked it off with his tongue.

"You're right Draco, she tastes amazing," Blaise said to his friend who stood opposite him.

Draco nodded, and guided his tip towards Y/N's mouth, she happily opened it. Sucking on his tip, her tongue flicking around allowing his pre cum to dance along her tastebuds.

Blaise ran his tip up and down her entrance, she heard him spit behind her, but not on her. He lubricated his dick with his saliva, wanting a smooth penetration for him and her.

Light thrusts came from Draco, not wanting to choke her with his dick so soon. He waited for Blaise to push inside of her, her neck still at a tilt from Draco holding the belt.

Her hips were gripped tightly, a bruising grip at that, but she relished in pain, so she didn't care.

Draco nodded towards Blaise, both boys having mischievous looks upon their faces. And without warning, both boys pushed inside of her, filling her body to the brim.

Y/N couldn't even moan, all she could do was squirm around, Blaise stretched her similar to how Draco did. She could feel the curve of his dick, the veins inside of her.

She clenched around him, a groan coming from Blaise as he picked up the pace. Draco's tip hit the back of her throat, over and over again. The belt restricting her airways, forcing her to breathe through her nose.

The corners of her mouth hurt, her throat sore but she was determined. She hollowed her cheeks, flattening her tongue to take in more of Draco's dick. He didn't give her any chances to take a breath, he was now in control of her breathing.

Blaise's thrusts were brutal, his hands squeezed her ass and then smacked them. The stinging pain subsiding quickly by the amount of pleasure she was receiving.

"Your mouth— is so— fucking good," Draco grunted.

Saliva and tears dropped onto the floor below, her arousal leaking onto her thighs, she was a filthy mess.

Y/N tensed, feeling Blaise's thumb rim her other hole. She had done this before with Draco, however it still came unexpectedly. Draco noticed the reaction, and immediately told her to relax, she followed the orders without question.

She felt warm spit cover the hole, lubricating the area before Blaise could push his thumb in. His thrusts never faltering— in a way, distracting her from the taboo feeling she were about to endure.

After Blaise prepared her, he slid the thumb inside. There was a slight pain, but it didn't last long, Y/N was too caught up with what was going on in her mouth and cunt. Her entire body felt full, and she was content with it.

"So— tight," Blaise groaned, his head thrown back as he continued to pound into Y/N. Each thrust he gave her forced Draco's dick inside her throat even further.

Blaise reached around her body, rubbing her clit quickly with his other thumb. Y/N became lightheaded, her vision blurry, stars now in replacement of Draco who was in front of her.

Her orgasm tumbled through, forcing her to choke on Draco's dick. She squeezed around Blaise, as her second orgasm arrived. Her finger nails digging into the mattress below her, toes curling against the sheets.

Draco was first to cum out of the two boys, he enjoyed seeing her reactions, so his orgasm had always been nearer. He filled her mouth, some of the cum dripping out of it.

Blaise followed shortly after, pulling out and painting her ass with the ropes of his cum. Both boys letting out satisfied groans, Y/N almost stumbled forward but recovered her balance quickly.

"That was-" Y/N couldn't even think of a word, she was in a state of bliss.

Draco collected the escaped cum with his finger, pushing it into her mouth, just before she was about to swallow he held her jaw, "hold it," he ordered.

Blaise used his two fingers to wipe some of his cum off her ass, the cum threatening to drop onto the bed. But he was faster, Draco dragged Y/N's head up with the belt, so Blaise had better access.

He guided his fingers that were coated in his orgasm into her mouth. Both boys cum now mixing with her own saliva, she swallowed instantly, not giving the action a second thought.

"Rest now darling, you did so well for us," Draco whispered, brushing the strands of hair that had stuck to her face away.

"So perfect," Blaise said, kissing the crown of her head.

"Let's get you cleaned up, Y/N," Draco suggested, pressing his mouth into her forehead, he waited for her answer, but it was delayed.

There was a sudden knock at the door, angry bangs from outside the room, all three of them turned their heads to the side.

Draco raised an eyebrow at Blaise, which Blaise shrugged off.

"Next time, invite me you fuckers!" Pansy yelled, Theo was heard cursing, telling Pansy to leave them alone.

Y/N laughed to herself, after this, there would definitely be a next time, and was more than happy to invite Pansy Parkinson into the mix.

#Draco Malfoy #blaise zabini #draco malfoy smut #dracomalfoy #dracosmut #draco smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #draco x reader #blaise smut #blaise zabini smut #harry potter smut #HarryPotter

[blackswaneuroparedux]

ltdan2288 asked: As a fellow veteran of the Afghan Campaign, might I ask if you have any thoughts about the imminent end of Allied air support & combat-advisory operations over there? The fall of large swaths of the country to the Taliban is already underway, which can only be seen as an unspeakable tragedy for the people there. From a strategic perspective, there’s no reason to believe that we won’t have to return in some capacity of AQ or ISIS reestablish themselves under Taliban sponsorship. At the same time, it’s not clear to me that our presence did anything beyond kick the can down the road and delay this inevitable outcome. As someone with such a deep knowledge of military history, I’m curious if you have a different perspective.

I have been avoiding answering this post for a while now because Afghanistan dredges up so many conflicting emotions inside me. I wrestle with so many memories of my time there with my regiment to fight in a war that we all didn’t really understand what we were fighting for.

Deep breath.

Almost two decades of conflict in Afghanistan has cost British taxpayers £22.2billion, or $31.3 billion according to UK government figures. As British troops prepare to leave Afghanistan, the 20-year deployment bill could be even higher. As of May 2021, the total cost of Operation Herrick (codename for the deployment of British soldiers to Helmand province) is £22.2billion. There were 457 fatalities on, or subsequently due to, Op Herrick. Of which 403 were due to hostile action. During the operation between January 1, 2006 and November 30, 2014, there were 10,382 British service personnel casualties. Of these 5,705 were injuries and the remainder being illness or disease. The UK’s remaining 750 troops in Afghanistan, involved in training local forces, started exiting the war-devastated country in May. Most of them will return home by the end of July.

They, like every one of us who went to fight in Afghanistan, will ask the same questions, ‘Why did we go there?’ ‘What was the real purpose of the mission?’ ‘Was it worth it?’

Both my older brothers fought there with special distinction and I later fought there too. I have very mixed emotions when I think about my time in Afghanistan. For all its faults and tortured history, I love that country and love its many ethnic people. I even started to learn Pashtu as I already had a spoken command of Urdu because I had been raised partly in both Pakistan and India and it’s where many Afghan refugees living in the UN camps for over a generation had learned Urdu too.

It’s not just that my family has history in Afghanistan going back to the days of the East India Company but I had a sincere respect for its culture and history as one of the central hot spots for great civilisational achievements, but also as a stubborn and unruly country who proudly defied the Great Powers to bend the knee and turned it into a ‘graveyard of empires’. Most of all I think of the friendships I made there and how my perspective on life changed as a consequence of knowing such resilience and fortitude in the face of catastrophe and death.

I’m sure like everyone else I wasn’t too surprised by President Biden’s announcement that he was announcing the imminent withdrawal of all American troops in Afghanistan. He wanted to pivot to something else when asked about it. “I want to talk about happy things, man!” He said. Who could begrudge him given that America has been at war in Afghanistan for a better part of 20 years and has nothing to really show for it. Except of course the loss of its brave service men and women as well as the death of thousands of Afghan civilians. It spent more than $2 trillion to kill Osama bin Laden, the architect behind 9/11 attacks and failed to convincingly snuff out both murderous terror groups, Al Qaeda and ISIS.

When the Secretary General of Nato announced back in April 2021 all alliance troops were to be withdrawn from Afghanistan, it was made to look like a nice, clean, enunciation of a joint decision. The end date was set for 11 September, 2021 - 20 years after the terrorist attacks on New York and Washington - and it was in line with the oft-repeated alliance maxim: we went in together; we will come out together. Except that, on closer examination, it was all rather messier.

This was partly because the withdrawal from Afghanistan had actually been Trump’s policy, so here was Joe Biden, the anti-Trump, co-opting a policy from his predecessor (a policy Trump had been so keen on that he tried to accelerate the withdrawal after he lost the election). Biden then tried to detach it from Trump by slowing down the withdrawal date a little and expressing it in terms more comprehensible to the Washington establishment and to US allies.

Where Trump had essentially done a deal with the Taliban and set a withdrawal date of 1 May, Biden left the Taliban out of it and invoked the totemic date of 9/11. This does not mean, of course, that the withdrawal will not be completed a good deal sooner - once you announce a withdrawal, you might as well get on with it.

In fact, Biden had to make a decision one way or another, given the rapid approach of Trump’s 1 May withdrawal date. And, whether it came from Washington or Nato, it was pretty low key for an announcement that a 20-year military involvement that had cost 4,000 allied lives was ending. Indeed, many people beyond Washington and Afghanistan might not quite have registered the news, given the considerable noises from Nato’s simultaneous dire warnings about Russia massing troops on the Ukrainian border, the death of the Duke of Edinburgh in the UK, and the Covid pandemic everywhere.

And distractions were needed not just because Biden was implementing a Trump policy. It was also because he was ordering an unconditional withdrawal – which he justified, correctly, by saying that setting preconditions would mean that the troops could be there forever. It was a risk Biden knew all too well, given that Barack Obama had been persuaded by General David Petraeus – against his election pledges and his better judgement – that what Obama really wanted was not a withdrawal, but a ‘surge’ with conditions attached before a withdrawal could take place.

Distractions were also useful for London, where the timing was hardly ideal. Imagine you were in government in London, you had watched the dismal failure of the UK’s Herrick operations in Helmand Province between 2006 and 2014, you knew that your armed forces had suffered 456 deaths in 20 years, with many more severely injured, but you had hung on in there.

Your government had also just released a blueprint for foreign and security policy, setting future priorities even further from home, in the Indo-Pacific, and your Prime Minister was about to make a high-profile visit to India as part of his post-Brexit ‘Global Britain’ branding . In those circumstances, an announcement that the US had decided to leave Afghanistan, giving you no choice but to follow, was almost exactly what you did not need. Rather than showing the UK as a powerful, autonomous military actor and a valued ally, it showed the exact opposite.

It also reminded an unhappy British public about a costly conflict it had rather forgotten. And those who did more than bother to remember - like the families who lost loved ones on the battlefield - and who over the years have blamed successive governments for moving the goalposts and lacking an exit strategy (all true too).

All of which might explain why the UK’s Foreign and Defence Secretaries followed the US example by changing the subject to the iniquities of Russia and China, rather than issuing a joyous pronouncement to the effect of: hooray and thank goodness, our boys and girls are coming home.

The UK’s Chief of Defence Staff, General Sir Nick Carter gave a subdued, unenthusiastic response to Biden’s announcement. I cannot remember such open acknowledgement of UK-US military policy friction in recent decades - or such an abject admission by the UK of its defence dependence on the US. What Carter said was that the unconditional withdrawal was ‘not a decision we had hoped for, but we obviously respect it and it is clearly an acknowledgement of an evolving US strategic posture’. In other words, the UK had opposed Biden’s decision – or would have done, if asked (which is not clear). Also, that it was Washington’s ‘strategic posture’ that had ‘evolved’, not the UK’s. He suggested there was a real danger that progress made could be lost and that there could be a return to civil war, with the Taliban maybe returning to power - again, all true.

Given that the UK officially has only 750 troops in Afghanistan at present, and most of them are there in a training capacity, to dissent from the US position so openly would be considered decidedly rude in the Ministry of Defence. Perhaps to that end, General Carter played the dutiful soldier and had to - through gritted teeth - put a positive gloss on Afghanistan’s future, insisting that the objective in going into Afghanistan, ‘to prevent international terrorism emerging from the country’, had been achieved which was ‘great tribute to the work of British forces and their allies’.

He also said that Afghan forces were ‘much better trained than one might imagine’ and that the Taliban ‘is not the organisation it once was’, so that ‘a scenario could play out that is actually not quite as bad as perhaps some of the naysayers are predicting.’ Blah blah blah. He’s wrong, and I think he knows it but only in the sanctity of his gentlemen’s club might he truly admit it.

I know he’s wrong because the chatter amongst ex-veterans I know is that we’ve made a balls up of Afghanistan yet again - by ‘again’ I mean from the past 200 years of us Brits trying to bring order to chaos in Afghanistan and getting burned for our troubles.

Both my father and my older siblings tell me what their friends and ex-service peers (some very senior indeed) have been nattering over a drink at their gentlemen clubs where ex-veterans haunt the club bar. Many just shake their heads in sighed resignation before burying themselves in the Times crossword or drowning their sorrows with a beer or two at how lock in step we’ve become to the Americans at a time when the British army is re-branding itself as a more independent nimble hi-tech impact army (the creation of a new ranger regiment being but one example).

Still if President Biden wanted to tie a neat bow on U.S. involvement in Afghanistan - saying, as he had, that the logic for the war ended once al-Qaida was gutted and Osama bin Laden killed - then it reveals a stunning lack of introspection about the United States’ role in the conflict that will continue in Afghanistan long after the last American and British troops leave.

Less than three months after President Joe Biden declared that the last American troops would be out of Afghanistan by September 11th, the withdrawal is nearly complete. The departure from Bagram air base, an hour’s drive north of the capital, Kabul, in effect marked the end of America’s 20-year war. But that does not mean the end of the war in Afghanistan. If anything, it is only going to get worse.

It is true that the president had no good choice on Afghanistan, and that he inherited a bad deal from his predecessor. There are never good choices when it comes to Afghanistan: only bloody trade offs.

But in announcing an unconditional withdrawal, he made the situation worse by throwing out the minimal conditions U.S. Special Envoy Zalmay Khalilzad had negotiated under the Trump administration. U.S. envoy Zalmay Khalilzad has delivered to the Afghan government and Taliban a draft Afghanistan Peace Agreement - the central idea of which is replacing the elected Afghan government with a so-called transitional one that would include the Taliban and then negotiate among its members the future permanent system of government. Crucial blank spaces in the draft include the exact share of power for each of the warring sides and which side would control security institutions.

The refrain now from the Biden administration is that the United States is not abandoning Afghanistan, that it will aim to do right by Afghan women and girls, and that it will try to nudge the Taliban and Kabul toward a peace deal using a diplomatic tool kit.

But the narrative ignores much of the reality on the ground. It also ignores history.

In theory, the Taliban and the American-backed government had been negotiating a peace accord, whereby the insurgents lay down their arms and participate instead in a redesigned political system. In the best-case scenario, strong American support for the government, both financial and military (in the form of continuing air strikes on the Taliban), coupled with immense pressure on the insurgents’ friends, such as Pakistan, might succeed in producing some form of power-sharing agreement.

But even if that were to happen - and the chances are low - it would be a depressing spectacle. The Taliban would insist on moving backwards in the direction of the brutal theocracy they imposed during their previous stint in power, when they confined women to their homes, stopped girls from going to school and meted out harsh punishments for sins such as wearing the wrong clothes or listening to the wrong music.

More likely than any deal, however, is that the Taliban try to use their victories on the battlefield to topple the government by force. They have already overrun much of the countryside, with government units mostly restricted to cities and towns. Demoralised government troops are abandoning their posts. In the first week of July 2021, over 1,000 of them fled from the north-eastern province of Badakhshan to neighbouring Tajikistan. The Taliban have not yet managed to capture and hold any cities, and may lack the manpower to do so in lots of places at once. They may prefer to throttle the government slowly rather than attack it head on. But the momentum is clearly on their side.

America and its NATO allies have spent billions of dollars training and equipping Afghan security forces in the hope that they would one day be able to stand alone. Instead, they started buckling even before America left. Many districts are being taken not by force, but are simply handed over. Soldiers and policemen have surrendered in droves, leaving piles of American-purchased arms and ammunition and fleets of vehicles. Even as the last American troops were leaving Bagram over the weekend of July 3rd, more than 1,000 Afghan soldiers were busy fleeing across the border into neighbouring Tajikistan as they sought to escape a Taliban assault.

As the outlook for the army and for civilians looks increasingly desperate, so do the measures proposed by the government. Ashraf Ghani, the president, is trying to mobilise militias to shore up the flimsy army. He has turned for help to figures such as Atta Mohammad Noor, who rose to power as an anti-Soviet and anti-Taliban commander and is now a potentate and businessman in Balkh province. “No matter what, we will defend our cities and the dignity of our people,” said Mr Noor in his gilded reception hall in Mazar-i-Sharif, the key to holding the north (sounds like Game of Thrones). The thinking is that such a mobilisation would be a temporary measure to give the army breathing space and allow it to regroup and the new forces would co-ordinate with government troops to push back hard on the Taliban.

However this is Afghanistan. The prospect of unleashing warlords’ private armies fills many Afghans with dread, reminding them of the anarchy of the 1990s. Such militias, raised along ethnic lines, tended to turn on each other and the general population.

With America gone and Afghan forces melting away, the Taliban fancy their prospects. They show little sign of engaging in serious negotiations with Mr Ghani’s administration. Yet they control no major towns or cities. Sewing up the countryside puts pressure on the urban centres, but the Taliban may be in no hurry to force the issue. They generally lack heavy weapons. They may also lack the numbers to take a city against sustained resistance. On July 7th they failed to capture Qala-e-Naw, a small town. Besides, controlling a city would bring fresh headaches. They are not good at providing government services.

Perhaps the Taliban have learned their history lesson and might refrain from attacking Kabul this time around. Their best course may be to tighten the screws and wait for the government to buckle. American predictions of its fate are getting gloomier. Intelligence agencies think Mr Ghani’s government could collapse within six months, according to the Wall Street Journal. So clearly the momentum is on the side of the Taliban and they just need to chip away at Ghani’s forces one district after another until the inevitable and hateful surrender of the central Afghan government to their demands.

At the very least, the civil war is likely to intensify, as the Taliban press their advantage and the government fights for its life. Other countries - China, India, Iran, Russia and Pakistan - will seek to fill the vacuum left by America. Some will funnel money and weapons to friendly warlords. The result will be yet more bloodshed and destruction, in a country that has suffered constant warfare for more than 40 years. Those who worry about possible reprisals against the locals who worked as translators for the Americans are missing the big picture: America, Britain and other allies are abandoning an entire country of almost 40m people to a grisly fate.

Nothing exemplifies - at least in Afghan eyes - of all that has gone wrong with American involvement in Afghanistan than in the manner of their leaving.

The U.S. left Afghanistan's Bagram Airfield after nearly 20 years by shutting off the electricity and slipping away in the night without notifying the base's new Afghan commander, who discovered the Americans' departure more than two hours after they left in the middle of the night without raising any alarms.

They left behind 3.5 million items, including tens of thousands of bottles of water, energy drinks and military MRE's (Meals Ready to Eat ration packs to the uninitiated). Thousands of civilian vehicles were left, many without keys to start them, and hundreds of armoured vehicles. The Americans also left small weapons and ammunition, but the departing US troops took heavy weapons with them. Ammunition for weapons not left for the Afghan military was blown up.

Now that is some feat considering the logistics of this mass exodus without drawing any attention. You have obviously been to Bagram and so you will know just how big and sprawling it is. Bagram Airfield is the size of a small city, roadways weaving through barracks and past hangar-like buildings. There are two runways and more than 100 parking spots for fighter jets known as revetments. One of the two runways is 12,000 feet long and was built in 2006. There's a passenger lounge, a 50-bed hospital and giant hangar-size tents filled with furniture. And all those shops to remind Americans of home from familiar fast food restaurants and hairdressers and massage parlours to buying clothing and jewellery and buying a Harley Davidson motorbike (or so I’ve been told).

I’m guessing that the Afghans were certainly outside of the wire and probably had not been inside Bagram Airfield for months. So from the outset they would not have had any reason to think anything was going on until the generators probably ran out of fuel and it started to go a little too quiet. The inner gate was probably discretely left unlocked and when the US stopped answering the radio/phone and then they probably investigated.

Before the Afghan army could take control of the airfield about an hour's drive from the Afghan capital, Kabul, it was invaded by a small army of looters, who ransacked barrack after barrack and rummaged through giant storage tents before being evicted, according to Afghan troops. Afghan military leaders insist the Afghan National Security and Defense Force could hold on to the heavily fortified base despite a string of Taliban wins on the battlefield. The airfield includes a prison with about 5,000 prisoners, many of them allegedly Taliban members.

I’m pretty sure some bright spark in the US Pentagon public affairs dept convinced his military superiors that it was important to avoid the optics of Americans leaving in the same way they did in Vietnam in case it depresses the American public and the US military. Instead it demoralised its allies, the Afghan national army who are now the only line of defence against the Taliban.  In one night, they lost all the goodwill of 20 years by leaving the way they did, in the night, without telling the Afghan soldiers who were outside patrolling the area. The manner in which the Americans left Bagram air base amounts to a resounding vote of no confidence in Afghanistan’s future. It just looks bad.

The U.S. choice came with costs attached to each decision. With staying, the cost was potential U.S. troop casualties and a fear that things would not change on the ground. With leaving comes the cost of a deeper conflict in Afghanistan and a backsliding of progress made there over the past two decades. In many ways, the costs of staying seem shorter-term and borne by the United States, while the costs of leaving will be predominantly borne by Afghans over a longer time horizon. Yet, even if those costs seem remote now, history tells us that they will be blamed on the United States.

Biden perhaps reflective of history of Americans getting into quagmires abroad didn’t want to be seen exerting time and energy for a losing cause. His decision also reflects his administration’s foreign policy for the American middle-class paradigm, which focuses on domestic considerations over international ones (and is this so different from Trump’s “America First”? No, it is not). The irony, though, is that the American middle class largely doesn’t care about Afghanistan - their ambivalence gave way to support for this decision once it was announced, but it wouldn’t be hard to visualise the public approving of a scenario that kept a couple thousand troops there for a while longer.

What’s perhaps most disturbing is the narrative the president has presented along with the rationale for withdrawal: that America went to Afghanistan to defeat al-Qaida after 9/11, that mission creep led America to stay on too long and, therefore, it is time to get out. This takes an incomplete view of U.S. agency in the war in Afghanistan. The narrative implies that the civil conflict in Afghanistan today did not originate with America - that this more than 40-year war began with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979, preceded America’s interference in Afghanistan, and will follow our departure.

The fact of the matter is that, by beginning the campaign in Afghanistan in 2001 and overthrowing the Taliban, who were then engaged in their draconian rule, and installing a new government, we western allies began a new phase of the Afghan conflict — one that pitted the Kabul government and the United States/Britain/NATO against the Taliban insurgency. The Afghan people did not have a say in the matter. That we allied powers are leaving Afghan women, children, and youth better off in many ways after 20 years is due to us, and we should be proud of that. But that we are leaving them mired in a bloody conflict is also due to us, because we could not hold off the Taliban insurgency, and we must all reckon publicly with that.

I have to ask myself why did we fail?

I’m only speaking about us Brits now as I’m sure you have your own thoughts as an ex-Marine officer of what you thought of the American military effort. Yes, I’m copping out of really bashing the yanks because first, I have too much respect for those fantastic American service men and women I did have the privilege to fight alongside with; and second, we Brits have nothing to crow about as we fucked up in lots of ways too, and to make things worse, we should have known better given our imperial history with Afghanistan.

The seeds of our failure in Afghanistan lies in not learning from history. We didn’t have a mission that was properly defined nor did we have a strategy that was clear, coherent, and easily communicated to both its fighting men and women as well as to the British public.

Were we there to get our hands bloody and to root out and destroy extreme Islamist terrorists or were we there to indulge in state building out of some idealistic notions of liberal humanitarianism? This question was at heart of our failure within our government and also within the British army as well as our relations with America and our NATO allies and finally the Afghans themselves.

Although never colonised in the same manner as other central and south Asian countries, the modern Afghan state is very much a creation borne out of great power rivalry. A land occupied by a number of different ethnic, linguistic and religious groups, it is a country whose borders were defined by, and whose sense of national identity was forged in response to western great power competition. Its geopolitical position - landlocked, mountainous, and surrounded by past great powers and present regional rivals - lends Afghanistan a dual role of geographic obscurity and great strategic significance, and has as such frequently been treated as little more than a buffer state between empires and a proxy of local powers. Its shared historical border with Russia and British India made it an object of imperial intrigue and, by consequence, has been subject to five European military interventions in the last 175 years.

The first three interventions of these occurred during the era of ‘the Great Game’ in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, in which Britain and Russia (latterly the Soviet Union) competed for influence and control over Afghan politics in order to protect their respective imperial holdings in India and central Asia.

The fourth and fifth interventions, ranging from the late 1970s to the present day, similarly involved attempts by Soviets and then by an American-led international coalition to remove political leaders acting against their interests and to protect their favoured candidates.

The unifying feature of all these conflicts was the idea of Afghanistan as the site of potential threats to the interests and security of more powerful states.

Britain’s legacy in Afghanistan in particular set the tone for the country’s historical pattern of conflict and political contestation, fuelling both the intermittent emergence of Afghan national consciousness and a fractious political lineage that saw thirteen amirs in just eighty years. Interventions by the Empire during the Great Game set the conditions for the assassination of ostensibly national leaders by their compatriots (Shah Shuja Durrani in the First war) or their exile by the British (Shere Ali Khan and Ayub Khan in the Second).

Despite the British achieving their aim of protecting India in the second and third conflicts by maintaining Afghanistan as either a pro-British buffer state or as a neutral party, the Afghan narrative tends to emphasise successes such as the massacre of British forces retreating from Kabul to Jalalabad in 1842, the defeat of British and Indian forces at Maiwand in 1880, and the gaining of sovereignty in foreign affairs in 1919.

Soviet intervention in the late 1970s and 1980s further buttressed this identity of resistance, and the failure and ultimate overthrow of the Communist-backed Najibullah government, as well as the collapse of the Soviet Union shortly after their drawdown from Afghanistan, led to a sense amongst the victorious mujahidin of the country as the ‘graveyard of empires’.

Afghanistan’s modern history should thus be seen as inextricably linked to the ebbs and flows of great power politics. Each intervention exacerbated extant internal power struggles between rival elite individuals and groups vying for nominal control over the country. Foreign intervention in Afghanistan was met on each occasion with fierce resistance from tribal militias coalesced around religion; as has been remarked upon by one historian of the country, the threat of external domination has been one of the few means of uniting its disparate population around the concept of an Afghan ‘nation’, and in most cases this shared sense of identity cohered around religion, not nationalism.

Indeed, the presence of intervening powers and the development of the Afghan state may be seen as mutually supporting: whilst most Afghan leaders throughout the last two centuries have asserted their sovereignty over the country, the reality has in most circumstances been one of competing tribal chiefs and/or ‘warlords’ rather than a single dominant leader.

Where leaders have managed to cohere the disparate tribal and ethnic groupings of the country under one banner - most notably under the regime of Dost Mohamed Khan (1826-1839, 1845-1863) – this was due in large part to their diplomatic abilities of compromise and co-optation with Afghanistan’s regional power- brokers. In other cases, such as that of the reign of Abdurrahman (1880- 1901), power was maintained by an unflinching ‘internal imperialism’ and the use of punitive force against rebellious factions.

The challenges of maintaining and projecting centralised power in Afghanistan allow us to see the relationship of its leaders with world or regional powers in the last two centuries as one of mutual exploitation. Throughout the Great Game and the Cold War, whilst the British/Americans and Russians/Soviets would use threats and bribes (and occasionally force) to compel Afghan rulers to comply with their geopolitical needs, Afghan rulers themselves often deftly manipulated those powers to maintain and extend their own power.

The pattern followed by Afghan leaders from the nineteenth century to the present day is remarkably similar in the respect that most have relied upon a rentierist economic model, seeking external aid in order to sustain the cost of security and administration. The plan of modern rulers was to warm Afghanistan with the heat generated by the great power conflicts without getting drawn into them directly. Abdurrahman, for example, used British subsidies to fund his military campaigns against rebellious factions; the Musahiban rulers of the mid-twentieth century used American capital to develop its nascent economic infrastructure and Soviet finance to bolster its armed forces; and, following the overthrow of the last royal leader of Afghanistan, Mohamed Daoud, in 1978, the quasi-communist leadership of Babrak Karmal, Hafizullah Amin, Nur Muhammad Taraki, and Mohammad Najibullah during the late 1970s and 1980s relied in the main on Soviet money and military assistance in its ultimately failed attempt to implement socialist policies and put down the American, Saudi and Pakistani-backed mujahidin.

These trends continued into the post-Cold War period in respect to both the Taliban movement (essentially directed and funded by Pakistan), the Northern Alliance (funded largely by former Soviet central Asian states) and the regime of Hamid Karzai (maintained in economic and military terms by the American-led, NATO-operated International Security Assistance Force and the wider international community). In the former cases, occurring in the main in the period of civil war between 1992 and 2001, rentierism was limited to the maintenance of proxy parties and the continuation of conflict.

By contrast, the ISAF mission bore similarities with the Soviet-backed socialist regimes of the 1980s, insofar as it focused huge amounts of capital and military resources on stabilisation and state-building efforts. Both intervening parties made the error of ignoring Afghanistan’s political history and focused their efforts on bolstering the authority of a centralised state, both promoted policies that were deemed ‘universal’ in their application and were, unsurprisingly given such hubris, vulnerable to accusations by Afghan opposition to being alien and imperialistic ideologies, and both expended enormous amounts of blood and treasure in order to sustain the regimes they supported.

The UK’s struggle to locate a coherent strategy for Afghanistan should, therefore, be seen firstly in the light of the historical problematic of Afghan state-building. This is important in narrative terms because difficulties of defining strategy imply similar challenges in explaining strategy. As with its efforts to ‘think’ strategically, Britain’s ability to explain the strategy(ies) for the war in Afghanistan have been frequently criticised by various commentators. The most strategically debilitating aspect of the Afghan campaign has always been the incoherence of the mission’s purpose; indeed the question ‘‘why are we in Afghanistan?’’ has never really been settled in public consciousness. The international community massively underestimated the difficulties of state-building and greatly overstretched themselves in the commitments made to Afghanistan, and that they did so because ‘strategies’ for Afghanistan rested on assumptions of the universal applicability of liberal state-building.

The international community from the start (meaning from the Bonn Conference of late 2001) fundamentally misunderstood the nature of an Afghan society deeply ravaged by decades of conflict, and failed to foresee the malign effects state-building ventures would have on the country. Specifically, the Bonn Conference, which set out the parameters of the post-invasion Afghan state, implemented a centralised state system onto a state whose experience of such was limited, and where the success of such a system in extending its authority beyond the major cities was predicated on coercion and the use of force.

Historically this has rarely been a credible option for Afghan rulers or their international backers, and was even less so under the self-imposed restrictions of liberal war-fighting and state-building. Rather, re-creating a centralised state required Afghan and international actors to enter into the same methods of co-optation and compromise as those of the past; in necessitating these kind of measures – as opposed to implementing a looser, federal system of governance – the centralisation of the Afghan state paved the way for a reconstitution of a ruling order based on tribal elements and ‘strongmen’. This produced something of a paradox for state-builders, as the creation of a strong, central state capable of implementing liberal policies across Afghanistan came at the cost of entering into alliances with ‘warlords’ known for their illiberal and coercive political approaches and illicit economic activities.

Another unintended but unavoidable consequence of centralised state-building identified by scholars is the re-constitution of the rentier state in Afghanistan. Post-Bonn, Afghanistan returned to its historical norm of maintaining the state via the extraction of external security and development rents, without which it would almost certainly implode due to the ruinous state of its economy and taxation system. Studies have shown that his new rentierism differed from previous patronage systems at the state level insofar as it was fuelled by an unprecedented influx of capital and resources into the country. This had the effect of introducing regulated systems of ‘neo-patrimonalism’, where departments were to be distributed as rewards to the various factions that took part in the Bonn conference, and there had to be enough rewards to go around.

In other words, the structure of the post-invasion Afghan state was, to a great extent, defined not by the demands of good governance, the needs of the country or the demands of post-conflict stabilisation and reconstruction – the purposes for which the centralised model was chosen to promote – but rather by the first-order need to avoid the derailment of the centralised state by co-opting regional power brokers.

Because of the imperative of shoring up a nascent state by securing support from potential competitors, the gulf between the ends of liberal state-building and the illiberal means required to facilitate its functioning can therefore be seen to a certain extent as inevitable.

A major issue, however, was that the patrimonial linkages created by the state for its regional proxies was not comprehensive, as it did not extend to the Taliban’s Pashtun heartland and, as such, fuelled resentment and alienation as much as they placated and co- opted extra-state power brokers. Key players in the Northern Alliance - the primarily Tajik opposition to the Taliban - received prestigious posts within the state, whilst the predominantly Pashtun Taliban were themselves excluded from such arrangements. Because those rewarded by the state tended to be given ministerial or governorial roles in cities, the conflict dynamic tended to reflect an urban – rural divide similar to that of the Soviet occupation. Along this reading, the neo-Taliban insurgency was in many ways a product of the political miscalculations and deficiencies of post-invasion state- building activities.

Given this starting point, such a view concludes that the strategic problems encountered by the international community in Afghanistan were, to a large degree, problems created by (or at the very least exacerbated by) the state-builders themselves. They misread Afghan politics in a way that reflected their own philosophical assumptions about the state and society.

Strategy in Afghanistan suffered because the coalition effort, comprised of multiple national actors and the United Nations, rarely took on the form of a unified effort. Part of the reason for this was a divergence of opinion between actors as to the ultimate purpose – counter-terrorism or state-building – of the intervention.

In the first years of the Afghan campaign, the United States’ Bush Administration remained staunchly opposed to what it called ‘nation building’ and opted instead to pursue a policy of capture- or-kill missions against suspected terrorists. For the United Nations and most of the United States’ European NATO allies, however, state-building was considered a necessary element of any counter-terrorist strategy. This difference of opinion was manifest from the start by the creation of two parallel missions – the US-led, counter-terrorism-focused Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) and the stabilisation missions of the European Union, United Nations (United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan (UNAMA)) and NATO (International Security Assistance Force (ISAF)) – engaged in seemingly incompatible aims of military prosecution and peace building.

Opinion on the impact of this dual approach varies. Some scholars have noted, along lines similar to those critiquing the state-building efforts of the international community that the approach taken by the UN, EU and ISAF was too ambitious, naïve and unrealistic, and therefore bound to fall short of their liberal political and economic goals. Both Europe and these international agencies ignored the necessity of paring down the international community’s state-building efforts to core, security-centric capacity building within the Afghan National Security Forces. But of course one can make the counter argument, as many have of course, that on the contrary it was the insufficiencies of state-building approaches vis-à-vis OEF’s counter-terrorist approach that led to subsequent failures in UN and ISAF efforts; specifically, that a disproportionate focus on counter-terrorism missions meant that opportunities of peace- building were irreparably compromised.

Within NATO there was a division not just of opinions but also one of mission relating to different political perspectives about the purpose of the Afghan mission and its ultimate referent object – whether it was primarily about the interests of the coalition member states or concerned in the main with Afghanistan itself – and, from that, the methods to be employed in pursuit of one or another objective. This was not merely a debate bounded by strategic necessity, however; rather, such debates stemmed as much from institutional disagreements over who would or could do what in Afghanistan, which in turn arose from the differences in political constitutions and cultural attitudes towards counterinsurgency and counter- terrorism.

These ‘national caveats’ or ‘red cards’ of participation created significant problems for NATO in Afghanistan, both political, in terms of the relations between states and the abiding sense amongst some that others were ‘free-riding’ on the collective security system and, and strategic and operational, in the sense that command-and-control capabilities and cohesion between forces were limited by the engagement restrictions placed on certain armed forces. Indeed, the disproportionate burden placed on combat-oriented states like the United States, the United Kingdom, and several new member states in Eastern Europe led to political statements denouncing Europe’s perceived transgressors of collective security participation; former US Defence Secretary Robert Gates argued, for example, that NATO had effectively become a ‘two-tier alliance’ ‘between members who specialise in ‘soft’ humanitarian, development, peacekeeping and talking tasks and those conducting the ‘hard’ combat missions - between those willing and able to pay the price and bear the burdens of alliance commitments, and those who enjoy the benefits of NATO membership... but don’t want to share the risks and the costs’.

A lack of strategic unity was the natural consequence of a structural compromise that produced two distinct strategic authorities that were, in many ways, competing with one another. Along similar lines to the political arrangements between the Afghan state and its regional proxies, the NATO alliance structure can be seen (and evidently is seen by officials such as Gates) as patrimonial: states participated on the basis of fulfilling their own interests and along operational lines that were complementary to those interests, for the purposes of securing an alliance structure that accommodated all participants ahead of the imperative of creating a coherent strategy for stabilising Afghanistan. As with the neo-patrimonialism of the Karzai regime NATO’s efforts would be dictated by the limitations imposed upon it by circumstance.

Thus, in the cases of Afghanistan’s and the international community’s internal political dynamics, strategy was confined by the structure of the Afghan state and society, the structure of the international community and NATO, and the interplay between those structures. The implication here is that the agency required for the possibility of a workable strategy may have been illusory from the start.

Leaving Afghanistan was never going to be pretty, but the latest turn is uglier than expected.

No one quite expected the speed of collapse within the Afghan National Army to hold of attacks of the Taliban. I don’t think it’s do with the lack of training or their professional skills is lacking (though there may be some truth in it). A big driver in the collapse is the money for wages, food and medical care for troops is syphoned to Dubai, so the Afghans who want to fight, and there are quite a few who hate the Taliban, get less replenishment than the 6th army in the last weeks of Stalingrad. They have arms, ammo and boots for this season only and that is it. Both money and morale are in short supply for these soldiers.

If I was a trained soldier in the Afghan National Army I would desert. I would say to them abandon the fixed defences these ‘ferenghis’ (foreigners) have gifted you and move to the hills and seek refuge with your tribal clan, who will be glad of the arms and experience you bring. Or get over the border if you are lucky to be in the North, if in the West you hire yourself to the Narcos in the badlands on the Iran border. Most other places it is either a last stand or defection, your Government and their relatives have already got their planes fuelled up in Kabul ready to move to their villa complexes in the UAE.

I’m being a trifle cynical but for good reason. Everyone who has been to Afghanistan sees the veil lifted on the corruption of aid and how the elites protect themselves ahead of defending the masses who bear the brunt of the bloodshed.

The corruption has been endemic from the get go, but the international community ignored it all for 'progress'. Any Afghan politico you hear on the media complaining about the West abandoning Afghanistan has at least $30 million parked in Dubai that should have gone to the soldiers, teachers, doctors, builders etc.

As spectacular as the collapse of the Afghan National Army has been it’s been even more scarier seeing how swift the Taliban has been in taking over vital provincial areas through propaganda, civilian intimidation, and rapid attacks. One by one, the Taliban has been taking over areas in a number of provinces in northern Afghanistan in recent weeks. The Taliban says it has taken control of 90 districts across the country since the middle of May. Some were seized without a single shot fired.

The UN's special envoy on Afghanistan, Deborah Lyon put the figure lower, at 50 out of the nation's 370 districts, but feared the worst was yet to come. Most districts that have been taken surround provincial capitals, suggesting that the Taliban are positioning themselves to try and take these capitals once all foreign forces are fully withdrawn. On a map, it's easy to see the point Lyon is making. A stark example is Mazar-i-Sharif, the biggest city in the north and a significant power centre in its own right. It was the rock upon which the Northern Alliance fought against the Taliban.

It is significant the Taliban are kicking off this offensive in the north, not their heartland in the south and east. The north was the toughest part of the country for them to crack last time. Their expectation is if they have victory there, success will flow much easier in their traditional homelands further south.

The strategy of taming the north extends to emasculating and profiting from trade routes to neighbours. On Monday night they captured the important border town of Shir Khan Bandar, Afghanistan's main crossing into Tajikistan. Earlier in the day, top Tajik government officials had met to discuss concerns about the growing instability next door. There is no indication that the Taliban intend to take their fight north of the border, but in the past Tajikistan has been a vital conduit for supplies flowing to the militants' northern enemies.

The last time the Taliban controlled the city was 20 years ago, when they left hundreds of captives in steel trucking containers to suffocate and die in the scorching desert heat. Now, the militants are back at the city gates once again, as part of a lightning offensive against Afghan government forces that has set alarm bells ringing from Kabul to Washington. So it should worry us all where will all this lead to.

America's drawdown seems to be the game changer. The Taliban have been beaten back several times in recent years, notably from Kunduz in 2015. The Taliban captured it briefly before US airstrikes were called in. Civilian casualties were high but the militants were driven out. The militant group has never been able to withstand the heavy US and NATO air assaults backing Afghan ground forces, but now the US and NATO are leaving, so is much of the threat of sophisticated and sustained air power. And the Taliban are well aware of this.

It seems to me behind the choice of withdrawal by the Biden government lies a bigger assumption that drives that choice. That is the Taliban militants' perceived desire for international recognition. This has been the mantra underpinning the American exit. The logic of the American argument has been simple: The Taliban wouldn't renege on their agreements with the US because they crave international acceptance. The events of this past week and more appear to blow a hole in that assumption.

Another assumption that’s currently being blown out of the water is the US establishing some presence outside of Afghanistan so that if it needs to intervene again to combat terrorism or flush out militants then it can do so from the safety of a neighbouring country. But so far no country has come forward to reciprocate. And why would they? Like the Afghans, no one likes foreign troops with boots on the ground in their country. Only the central Asian republics and possibly Pakistan would come close to allowing that but there would be a political cost those governments would pay with their people. Moreover by welcoming the Americans in, they also allow the militants to target that country too.

Another assumption is the nature of the Taliban support and links to terrorist groups. The U.S. may not face any serious post-withdrawal Afghan support of extremist threats to the United States, even if the Taliban does take over. It is all too true that the Taliban continues to talk to the remnants of Al Qaeda, as do elements of the Pakistani military. It is unclear, however, that these remnants of Al Qaeda focus on attacks on the U.S., and the Taliban does seem to oppose ISIS. It is also unclear that the Taliban will host other extremist movements that focus on attacking the U.S. or states outside the region.

It is unclear that any key element of the Taliban has an interest in such attacks on the United States. Even Al Qaeda now focuses largely on objectives inside Islamic countries, and it is unclear that some other major extremist force will emerge in Afghanistan that do not focus on regional threats and on taking over vulnerable, largely Islamic states.

At the same time, one needs to be careful about the assumption that the U.S. can defeat any such threats by launching precision air and missile strikes against extremist targets. It is unclear that the forces in Afghanistan involved in any small covert attacks on the U.S. will be easy to target and cripple if they do emerge. The Taliban is unlikely to tolerate major training camps and facilities for extremist forces, and any such strikes will present major problems for the U.S. if the extremist threat consists of scattered small facilities and small expert cadres that shelter among the Afghan population.

It is also far from clear that more intense U.S. air attacks on Taliban forces from outside Afghanistan will have any decisive effects. The loss of limited numbers of Taliban fighters as well as some key Taliban leaders and facilities will not offset the pace of their victories in the countryside or enable the central government to survive. A continuing U.S. ability to target and kill some key Taliban leaders and fighters also does not mean that the risk of such strikes will deter future Taliban willingness to let small, extremist strike groups conduct well-focused, well-planned strikes on U.S. or allied territory, especially if such groups in Afghanistan sponsor attacks on the U.S. or it strategic partner by strike units or cadres based in other countries.

At the same time, it does seem more likely that the Taliban, and/or any independent extremist groups, will focus largely on Iran, Pakistan, Russia, China, and the other “-Stans.”

Going forward I think we need to re-evaluate many of our assumptions about the war in Afghanistan.

The objectives of the Authorised Use of Military Force approved by the US Congress in 2001 have long been accomplished. Once Osama bin Laden was killed in Operation Neptune Spear in 2011, the last element of the AUMF was met. The American and British mission in Afghanistan was complete. But America and Britain did not leave because we wanted to do a spot of state building to curb the spread of militant islamist terror. That was a mistake as it turned out.

Post-Neptune Spear, The American, the British, and their  allies’ conventional mission should have been ended, adopting instead a laser focus on intelligence collection and offensive special operations to prevent al-Qaeda (or any terrorist organisation) from re-establishing safe havens and training areas.

What was needed for an acceptable ‘victory’ and a ‘saving face’ withdrawal  was to embrace the use of Afghan Militia Forces the same way the Allies did for our initial entry way back in 2001.

In 2001, Western powers won the initial military engagement in 42 days using special operations forces with local and regional allies - we need to return to this format - and through a combination of special operations and specific information operations efforts, regaining the high ground and influence over ‘centres of gravity’. The issue is not the number of troops, but the mission of the forces there. Once the mission is defined, the number of forces needed would be clear.

It has never been about the number of troops - it’s been about the lack of an achievable mission assigned to our forces in Afghanistan.

The US engaged in ‘nation-building’ for the wrong reasons - and has seen bad results. We installed Hamid Karzai, served as his praetorian guard to protect the new central government and abandon our AMF allies and attempted to build a large, bulky, expensive and ineffective Afghan National Army - a force that is now evaporating before our eyes. It was folly.

Americans will never make the Afghan people more like them - nor will they be able to instil what my American colleagues used to fondly refer to as ‘a Jeffersonian democracy’ in Afghanistan. That day may come but only when the Afghan people wish it to be so. Lest it be forgotten Americans sought independence in 1776; the Afghan people seek self-reliance and independence from foreign influence. This is their defining historical DNA: escape from any outside control.

The Afghan people are not ungoverned, they are self-governed - with no tradition of central democracy and no desire for our version of democracy or ‘prosperity’. By pushing ‘prosperity’ we had become targets for both the Afghan government and the Taliban. This has ended, but we must draw a distinction between the end of nation-building and the continuation of our own interests in Afghanistan and the region.

It is time to adopt a practical policy based on what will work and is in our allied interests, rather than by funding the aspirations of progressive politicians who have no real understanding of Afghanistan.

First, we must establish a clear post-‘state-building’ strategy - with achievable objectives. We must return to the policy and operational format we know will work - cooperation with Afghan tribal leaders and militia. This type of force was used to achieve the initial victory in 2001. Empowered warlords and regional leaders were the force multiplier that worked as the Afghan Militia Forces - and can again, in partnership with our Special Operations Forces work now. Intelligence collection and limited military operations should be our focus.

There is no way around it. One has to play the Great Game. Think tribal rather than central. Afghan nationhood is a liberal Western wet dream.

The central government is weak and corrupt just like all the other rulers of the past. The Afghan National Army is not as strong as it is on paper. It can hardly prop itself up rather than any government. Most of the Afghan National Army troops have stronger tribal loyalties than to the concept of a nation. Since the tribal chiefs play both sides to hedge their bets, it's no wonder 'their' people do what they're told. The Taliban know this because that has always been the Afghan way, so the tribes go with them. Provided the Taliban honour their promises to the tribal chiefs, the Taliban can do what they want.

On one hand, the tribes won't now be too bothered by central government and have a large pool of Western-trained troops to prop them up. On the other hand, they now have to do business formally with the Taliban again. Largely in order to get their hands on Western-supplied aid that will surely follow after the Americans leave.

Second, we must accept the reality of Pakistani influence in Afghanistan - and work with the Pakistanis to counter al-Qaeda and the other militants now attacking Pakistani targets within Pakistan. Pakistan has made great advances in securing the tribal areas on the other side of the border and they have always been the de facto control of much of the Taliban force capacity, such as the Haqqani network. Working with Pakistan is the best option within the current circumstance.

‘Endless wars’ are not an American value. The use of the US military must only be used in response to genuine threats, when American interests are at stake or lives in danger. Withdrawal of conventional military forces and discontinuing nation building is in the US interest: leaving Afghanistan is not.

Third, make Afghanistan China’s problem. Afghanistan could easily become a hotbed for growing Islamic extremism, which would to some extent affect stability in Xinjiang.

It is not without reason that Afghanistan is known as the “graveyard of empires”. The ancient Greeks, the Mongols, the Mughals, the British, the Soviet Union and most recently the US have all launched vainglorious invasions that saw their ambitions and the blood of their soldiers drain into the sand. But after each imperial retreat, a new tournament of shadows begins. With the US pulling out of Afghanistan, China is casting an anxious gaze towards its western frontier and pursuing talks with an ascendant Taliban. The burning questions are not only whether the Taliban can fill the power vacuum created by the US withdrawal but also whether China - despite its longstanding policy of “non-interference” - may become the next superpower to try to write a chapter in Afghanistan’s history.

Beijing has held talks with the Taliban and although details of the discussions have been kept secret, government officials, diplomats and analysts from Afghanistan, India, China and the US said that crucial aspects of a broad strategy were taking shape. An Indian government official said China’s approach was to try to rebuild Afghanistan’s shattered infrastructure in co-operation with the Taliban by channelling funds through Pakistan, one of Beijing’s firmest allies in the region. China is Pakistan’s wallet.

It has been reported that Beijing has been insisting that the Taliban limit its ties with groups that it said were made up of Uyghur terrorists in return for such support. The groups, which Beijing refers to as the East Turkestan Islamic Movement, are an essential part of China’s security calculus in the region. The ETIM groups were estimated by the UN Security Council last year to number up to 3,500 fighters, some of whom were based in a part of Afghanistan that borders China.  Both the UN and the US designated the ETIM as terrorists in 2002 but Washington dropped its classification last year. China has accused the ETIM of carrying out multiple acts of terrorism in Xinjiang, its north-western frontier region, where Beijing has kept an estimated 1m Uyghur and other minority peoples in internment camps.

In a clear indication of Beijing’s determination to counter the ETIM, Wang Yi, China’s foreign minister, exhorted counterparts from the central Asian states of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan and Turkmenistan this year to co-operate to smash the group. “We should resolutely crack down on the ‘three evil forces’ [of extremism, terrorism and separatism] including the East Turkestan Islamic Movement,” Wang said in May according to Chinese news media which I follow.

The importance of this task derived in part from the need to protect large-scale activities and projects to create a safe Silk Road. Silk Road is one of the terms that Chinese officials use to refer to the Belt and Road Initiative, the signature foreign policy strategy of President Xi Jinping to build infrastructure and win influence overseas.

An important part of China’s motivation in seeking stability in Afghanistan is protecting existing BRI projects in Pakistan and the central Asian states while potentially opening Afghanistan to future investments. China would have to more actively support efforts to ensure political stability in Afghanistan. So make them work for it. Western powers need to leverage China’s problems in Xinjiang to be more active in Afghanistan.

International media outlets and intelligence agencies worldwide have been circulating reports pointing toward the creation of a Chinese military base in the Wakhan Corridor of Afghanistan’s Badakhshan province for a while now. Although China has not embarked on militarisation programs on foreign soil historically, and has profusely denied the rumours about building an Afghan “mountain brigade,” China’s first overseas military base in Djibouti provides an example of China’s newly adopted strategy of leveraging economic influence to further its strategic objectives. There’s even some chatter amongst Chinese officials that Beijing may entertain the idea of being part of a future UN international force should one be needed in Afghanistan (a bad idea but hey, let China find out first hand for itself).

The Afghan government was able to maintain a measure of stability largely because of the superiority of US air support. The drones, gunships, helicopters and heavy air artillery were unmatched by the Taliban. But when the US leaves, that advantage will evaporate. China’s imperative to create overland trade routes to Europe and the Middle East may draw it inevitably into Afghanistan’s domestic strife.

Of course China’s forward policy in the Wakhan Corridor needs to be assessed with a critical eye. Although on one level it seems to be motivated primarily by the threat of radicalisation, China’s interest in the region is also contingent on the strategic role that Afghanistan is capable of playing in the larger scheme of things. Despite China’s vehement denial, there seems to be sufficient evidence available indicating a definite military build up in the region, which provides China with an opportunity to showcase its ability to transform into a balancing force in the regional dynamics. I think that is a trade off that both America and Europe can afford to concede under the current circumstances.

In conclusion In the face of failure, there is an impulse to move on and not ask “what led to this?” But to avoid a reckoning with our follies is to risk their repetition, or worse.

it is probably too late to salvage either the civil or military situation in Afghanistan. It almost certainly is too late to salvage it with limited in-country U.S. forces, outside U.S. airpower and intelligence assets, and with no real peace agreement or functional peace process. Limited military measures are not the answer, and neither is simply reinforcing the past processes of failure. Tragic as it may be, withdrawal may not solve anything and may well make conditions worse for millions of Afghans, but reinforcing failure is not a meaningful strategy.

I do feel strongly that both the American and British governments must establish a clear path of redemption so that those who served and the families who sacrificed loved ones know that their loss was not wasted. At the same time our civilian governments must limit missions to intelligence collection and counter-terrorism missions that will prevent the metastasis of al-Qaeda or Isis in the region should the Afghan government fall. How we balance these two is going to be very interesting to follow in the next chapter in Afghanistan’s tortured history.

I apologise for the length of this post. This has been a hard post to write because of the subject matter and the many conflicted emotions and memories I have of my time in Afghanistan. I wish I had all the answers but I suppose the beginning of wisdom would be to know how to ask the right questions. Because we didn’t ask the right questions when we went in, we ended up making a real mess of it.

There is an understandable desire to bring all our allied troops home safe and that not another life is lost there. Yet I doubt this policy of withdrawing all troops will bring peace to anyone, not to us and most of all, the Afghanis themselves. As always in war it is the native population that will bear the real cost of war, in this case women, girls, and others brutalised under Taliban rule. What lies for them if the Taliban regain power to govern the country in their image is something I care not to imagine but retain a deep foreboding of their continued suffering. Ordinary Afghanis just want a respite from war and have a chance to live in peace, but without having us foreigners or the Taliban around. It is hard to imagine that happening at all. Our desire to save our soldiers’ lives set against ordinary Afghanis being left at the mercy of the Taliban is one of those humbling and brutalising trade offs that any war can only offer.

Near the end of his famed novel, The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald described two of his privileged characters, Tom and Daisy, as “careless people” who “smashed up things and creatures” and then “retreated back into their money or their vast carelessness” to “let other people clean up the mess they had made.”

That description applies to America as a whole but also to we Brits and other Europeans, especially when we tire of a misguided war. Americans and we Brits are a careless people. In both Iraq and Afghanistan, we smashed up things and human beings with abandon, only to retreat into our materialism. No scratch that, returning soldiers retreated into themselves struggling with PTSD whilst the rest of our citizenry carried on with their own material struggles and their insipid culture wars. The point is we always leave others to clean up the mess in a very bloody fashion that never troubles our conscience.

Count on us, probably sooner rather than later, doing precisely the same thing in Afghanistan. Again.

Thanks for your question

#question #ask #afghanistan #war #terrorism #warfare #history #america #britain #taliban #pakistan #china #south asia #security #intelligence #europe #un #isaf #nation building #politics #power #military #personal

[chinchilla-7]

Idk where to put this but I wrote it last night and am proud of it enough to post it here. Plus, I don’t want my messed up sleeping schedule to go to waste.

Anyway, here’s a long headcanon type thing of a reader (GN) starting a relationship with Genji and Hanzo Shimada. It really just spurred from my bad crush I have on both of them, but maybe other will enjoy too.

Like I said, I wrote this at 1am, so if there’s any mistakes/weird parts, my bad. I also didn’t proofread this cause we die like men, y’know. Anyway-

Hanzo + Genji x GN!Reader

Disclaimer: No, Hanzo and Genji are not dating each other in this. The reader is just dating both of them at the same time.

You hadn’t meant to develop a crush on both Shimada brothers. It just sort of… happened. The longer you spent being around them - whether it be together or separate (it was usually separate) - the more you fell for their charm. They both had that same special quality about them that you couldn’t keep away from,

It certainly didn’t help that it seemed that both brothers had developed a fondness towards you. Both showed it in different ways, of course: Genji’s walls broke down just enough for you to catch glimpses of his younger, playboyish behaviour; and Hanzo’s walls broke down enough for you to experience a more gentle, softer side of him.

So now you were bouncing back and forth better spending quality time with each of the brothers. You weren’t cheating since you weren’t in a relationship with either of them, but there was still this weird feeling at the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t shake.

Of course, you weren’t the sneakiest about seeing both of them - and given Hanzo and Genji’s past, they knew a thing or two about keeping secrets - so both of them caught wind of your relationship with the other. And, at the beginning, they kept quiet about it, despite how much it bothered them.

This back and forth game couldn’t keep going forever, though, and you knew it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to come to a decision. You had fallen for both of the brothers and having to pick only one hurt more than you were willing to vocalize. Well, until you had to.

Eventually, Genji and Hanzo approached you about the situation; it appeared that they had had a discussion between themselves before coming to you, and a mix of emotions washed over you: anxiety, guilt, fear - the general emotions you’d expect to feel in this situation.

You knew that this was the moment where you had to make a decision. Neither of them were necessarily mad at you, but they had made it clear that they no longer wished to participate in your little ‘game’ as Hanzo put it.

You were quiet for a long moment before you could bring yourself to say what you’ve been feeling. You’ve known for a while what your decision on this matter actually was, you just couldn’t bring yourself to accept it - now, however, there was no choice but to do so.

“I want to date both of you.”

It was an odd statement, you knew that. And it wasn’t odd due to the polygamy that was involved, but rather the fact that you were asking to date brothers. You could tell by the shocked and confused looks that you were going to have to give them more than that as your answer.

“I-I want to be in a poly relationship with you two- you two wouldn’t be dating each other, obviously, but I can’t imagine picking one of you over the other… so I want to be dating both of you.”

You knew it was a lot to ask: a brother being okay with you dating them and their brother. But, there was no other outcome to this that made you happy.

It took all too long for either of the Shimadas to respond. It was Hanzo that spoke first:

“I need some time to consider”

That was not a no, so you were more than happy to accept, especially since Genji agreed with the sentiment. You told them to take the time they needed to think it over and you thanked them for even considering it in the first place. There wasn’t much else said from their end afterwards - it was mainly just a nod and a ‘see you later’ before they both left to their own thoughts.

Though, when you told them to take the time they needed to decide, you didn’t think it would be this long.

It had been about two weeks since you had laid a poly relationship out on the table. You hadn’t really talked to either of the Shimada brothers since then, which was probably for the best, but it only made your gut twist more and more into knots.

They had kept to their word, at least, both taking the time to think it over:

After some deliberation, Genji reached out to a couple close friends to aid in his discussion: Zenyatta was the one he spoke to the longest about it, and it really boiled down to the need to also converse with his brother.

Hanzo, not being as close to as many people, mainly spent his time alone to think. It ended up being the only thing he thought about: being unable to get away from it even during his meditations. His mind would just wonder back to the possibility of dating the same person as his brother. He had nearly reached his breaking point before Angela suggested that he needed to talk to someone in order to get out of his head. And, of course, what better person than Genji.

Despite both of them knowing that it was for the best to speak to the other, it still took a couple days for Genji and Hanzo to sit down and discuss this matter with each other. Sure, they could speak about the fact that you had basically been dating both of them at the same time, but now they couldn’t look at each other at the concept of you actually dating both of them at the same time. Still, they made an attempt, and it was a better attempt than they expected. They even managed to speak about other topics they had been avoiding - it ended up being a rather long conversation.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ganji and Hanzo approached you once more. If only you could get a read on their faces, but Genji had his visor on and Hanzo was as unreadable as ever. You managed to give them a weak smile, hoping for the best, but expecting the worst.

Though, it seemed that the worst wasn’t the reality.

“Genji and I have taken the time to really consider your… proposal and, after quite a bit of talking, we both agreed to date you.”

Okay, so his wording was a little awkward, but that didn’t bother you. In fact, you barely noticed since you were more focused on the fact that they said yes-

Genij cut off your train of thought: “Though, I think it’s clear that there are, um, boundaries that need to be set before we really go further with this relationship.”

You nodded, agreeing immediately since you knew that came with any relationship - but especially in a polyamourous relationship featuring two brothers.

After that day, and setting some basic ground rules and boundaries, you found yourself in a decent spot dating both of the Shimada brothers. It was rocky at first, of course. The three of you were still finding your footing, but you were the happiest you had been in a while.

There were some moments in the beginning of your relationship that were rough: like during times where the three of you would hang out together, neither were sure if you were okay with them initiating affection while the other was also around - they also weren’t sure if they were willing to tell the others around them the current standing of their relationship. There were quite a few hurdles to get through.

It took some time, but the three of you managed to work through the many challenges that came with the reality of your relationship, and you were so happy that Genji and Hanzo were putting in as much effort as you were. It made this all worth it.

#hanzo x reader #genji x reader #hanzo shimada x reader #genji shimada x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch headcanons #reader insert #if any of you tag this as sh/m/d/c/st i'll scream #and also eat your bones #hanzo and genji x reader #hanzo shimada #genji shimada #hanzo overwatch #genji overwatch #overwatch

[riddlecrux]

The quiet power of emotions - a study of Azriel's feelings (part one)

I would love to preface this meta with my favorite disclaimer that everything I will discuss is based on what I have gathered from SJM writing. The quotes used in this post will serve as a starting point for further analysis. Additionally, I will use symbolism, metaphors, and literary device methods to build up my reasoning and beliefs. On another note, this, as usual, is strictly pro-Elriel meta. If they are not your cup of tea and you wish to comment, please be civil and bring arguments supported by the text.

I've wanted to study Azriel’s behavior in ACOFAS, since it's an official novella and it was translated and published in many countries. Since it has come to my attention that some people say that without Azriel's POV, Elriel wouldn't have anything to be based on (which is totally wrong) I decided to tackle Azriel's behavior and show how he had exhibited his feelings for Elain even before ACOSF came out. The scene I would like to start with this series (meta series if I may call it that way) is the one where Rhys and Azriel talk about Illyria, Jurian, and Vassa. Rhys constantly observes Azriel, and he decides to drop this.

“Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary.” I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.”

We can see that Azriel is uncomfortable. He's tense and he even shields himself from Rhys' prying gaze. It's all because Lucien was mentioned - which is a bit telling at this point.

Az’s brows rose. “Where?” I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?”

Rhys is kind of testing the waters as well, you can say he's railing up Azriel to bring some reaction. However, the question is why would he? What is the reason behind this behavior? It came out of nowhere in the novella, so it's even more surprising to us to reflect upon it, taking into account what transpired in the bonus POV in ACOSF.

Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.” “Why?” Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I highlighted Azriel's body language because it's very important. Here we have the notion of crossing arms, which can mean that someone is anxious, resistant, tense, insecure, afraid, or defensive. As we can pinpoint some of these emotions are present in this particular scene - Azriel definitely shields himself up, not only by physically crossing arms but also in the indignation of his expressionless face. The fascinating thing is the addition of the comparison between Azriel's cold face and his legendary dagger - which only further solidifies that Truth Teller is in fact a big part of Shadowsinger. Summarizing up with what we got from these passages we have: - tenseness - obstructing oneself from the view - defensive stance - crossing arms - coldness - emotionless

I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.” To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together.

Here comes my favorite part in this conversation - Rhys seeing himself in Azriel at that moment and Azriel keeping in mind Elain's privacy and agency. Some people try to paint Azriel as some sort of a toxic guy, who is so traumatized that he doesn't value anyone but himself. I'm wondering where this reasoning came from - since nothing exclusively supports that theory. It's clear that Azriel shows respect towards Elain, as stated above in the quotes - even if at this moment, he is clearly showing signs of jealousy. Which, once again is totally fine. All bat boys showed jealousy throughout the books, and every one of them loved their significant other with all their flaws and weaknesses. But going back to the quote, we are met with the assumption about Azriel's decision of not spying on Lucien - given by Rhysand. Nevertheless, something must have had triggered such response to Azriel's behavior and his stance - that's why I strongly believe that Rhys knew what Azriel felt like (in ACOFAS he's testing the waters, trying to see if his assumptions are right or wrong, in ACOSF he pulls a rank because of the consequences of the possible outcome with Lucien being so close.)

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

Rhys noticed and understood that his assumptions about Azriel's feelings and emotions are correct, that's why his tone changed. He is constantly observing and giving us very detailed descriptions of the changes undergoing in Azriel's persona while discussing Lucien (and inwardly Elain.) Now, let's look at the metaphor used to underline his emotions in relation to his Siphons. Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. - gutter - flicker and burn unsteadily - foreboding - a feeling that something bad will happen; fearful apprehension

SJM used these words in such a situation - a whole sentence that indicates turmoil that is happening inside Azriel. Behind his aloof expression, we got to know that his emotions are restless, that what he is experiencing is sound and present at this moment. We see that by the description of his Siphons - turning dark at the mention of Lucien's possible whereabouts. We don't necessarily know what Azriel thought - if it was apprehension connected to the possibility of Lucien being in the same house, near Elain, or even somewhere where Azriel wouldn't have expected him to be. Judging by the course of the conversation, I would be inclined to believe that it was thought of Lucien being close to Elain.

I straightened at the pure order in the words. But I said, voice slipping into a drawl, “He went to the Spring Court. He’ll be there for Solstice.”

As we are in Rhys POV we can see that he has been caught off guard by the way Azriel delivers his line, yet he masks it with a drawl. Was it because something that Rhys suspected came true? As in, for example, some validation about Azriel and Elain's relationship? We can guess, however, the text clearly states that Rhys was somehow surprised by the tone of his friend. The pure order is what initially made me reread ACOFAS and this scene few times since it carries a heavy chunk of foreshadowing, but also the weight of Azriel's emotions.

Azriel doesn't let anything on his face, which is almost devoid of emotions while talking to Rhys about Lucien - yet, we get so many descriptions about the way his tone changes, his body language, his Siphons, and gaze. Even if he doesn't show externally that he is feeling all those emotions, that doesn't mean that he lacks them. Because, clearly what we have in the text, suggests that Azriel exhibits symptoms of jealousy. This is completely understandable since in the books we get to know that he and Elain have already started getting to know each other off the pages. Another interesting thing is, how structured and written this scene is. We have an insight into Rhysand's thoughts and he is thinking about Feyre and Tamlin.

With Tamlin, it was more complicated than that. More complicated than I let myself usually dwell on. He was still in love with Feyre. I couldn’t blame him for it. Even if it made me want to rip out his throat. I shoved the thought away.

Rhysand acknowledges the fact that the whole thing with Tamlin is complicated, as he repeats in his mind - the situation was something that literally destroyed one of the Courts. It's also peculiar and worth noticing that Rhys is aware of the love Tamlin has for Feyre, and even if he knows that, he is ready to kill Tamlin.

In the contrast, the talk is about Azriel, Lucien, and... Elain. Another triangle that is, in fact, complicated.

“I’ll discuss Vassa and Jurian with Lucien when he returns. See if he’s up for another visit.” I angled my head. “Do you think he can handle being around Graysen?” Az’s expressionless face was precisely the reason he’d never lost to us at cards. “Why should I be the judge of that?”

Rhys asks about Lucien and how Azriel sees him behaving around Graysen, which in my opinion is another instance of testing Spymaster. I angled my head, which is what Rhysand does and synonym to angle is tilt. Once again we are going to look at what does body language says about it. It can indicate curiosity, suspicion, and in some cases even uncertainty. In this particular moment, I believe it's curiosity mixed with suspicion - Rhys has been observing Azriel the moment he changed the subject of the conversation to Lucien. We also have another description of Azriel's expressionless face - showing us, readers, that Rhys notes the changes in his behavior. Azriel even proceeds with questioning his friend about the purpose of that inquiry and how he of all people is the one who is capable of being a judge in this case. I think we can see it as some sort of dodging, stalling even.

“You mean to tell me that you weren’t bluffing when you said you didn’t track Lucien’s every movement?” Nothing. Absolutely nothing on that face, on his scent. The shadows, whatever the hell they were, hid too well. Too much. Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

Even if Azriel is described as expressionless and almost emotionless in this scene, we do see the moments when his feelings came up to the surface. Just like here, Azriel bottles down his anger and other emotions, letting out only his coldness. However, the question is why? Why so much iciness and apprehension? If the conversation and subjects of it weren't important to him, he would have probably behaved as usual - with his aloofness, but not necessarily hostility hid behind the frostiness. What's even more notable is the fact that Rhys comments about how his shadows hid his emotions/feelings, even on his scent. Azriel did it on purpose, he covered himself so he wouldn't be detected - or better to say to cover up his true emotions that Rhysand could have easily spotted. The biggest tell about it is the addition of "too much". If there wasn't anything to hide or the emotions under the cover were vain or small - Rhysand wouldn't have had added that thought.

No. Sort of. “I’d think bankrolling her apartment and drinking was gift enough.” Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

The conversation changes its topic - and Rhys starts to discuss sisters and presents. We see that Azriel's first reaction is rooted in body language. He is running his hand through his hair which suggests nervousness, frustration, stress, or even a sign of disagreement over whatever is being said. From all these things I think we can lean towards nervousness the most or even frustration - since just before that leap of the topic he was immersed deep down inside his feelings and tried to mask his true emotions about Lucien and Elain. Another thing is that Rhysand also notices that it's unusual for Azriel to stutter, stumble with his words which he does after he runs his hand through his hair. He's nervous.

“No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips. “I don’t think Nesta gives a shit, and I don’t think Elain expects to receive anything from us. I’d leave the sisters to exchange presents amongst themselves.” Az nodded distantly.

Rhysand doesn't even know if he can call Azriel's sigh a sigh since it seems that all it was, was just a short exhale. I do think that it was a sigh - of relief. However, we can speculate about what the relief is connected to. If it is for not buying gifts or maybe because the conversation steered in another direction and all these pent-up emotions, feelings, and even frustrations could finally be released? What's clear is that Azriel feels a lot, in this scene particularly. He is hiding it behind his shadows, obstructing it from Rhys, but also from the reader's point of view. Nevertheless, SJM used an enormous chunk of body language to show us what Azriel is feeling - jealousy. Another thing is that he seemed to think about what's being said about sisters and their gifts - because he was described to be nodding distantly.

Az nodded knowingly. He’d always understood me best—more than the others. Save my mate. Whether it was his gifts that allowed him to do so, or merely the fact that he and I were more similar than most realized, I’d never learned.

I love this quote and that it comes from Rhysand's POV as well. It shows that Rhysand knew and his suspicions were, in fact, correct - because he probably saw himself and his infatuation with Feyre in the way Azriel behaved with Elain. I do also think that it will come back in the next book - the bond between Azriel and Rhysand, and probably some of the small fallout because of what had happened with them in Azriel's POV. SJM put Lucien, Elain, and Azriel in here, while Rhysand thought about his situation with Feyre and Tamlin. Two triangles, two different, complicated outcomes, and relationships. Forbidden romance? Yes. Politically connected? Yes. Could start a war? Yes. There are so many similarities between them.

The thing with Azriel is that his feelings aren't over the top - he's not vocal about them. The power of his emotions lies in the quietness and his actions. If we sat back and looked at scenes in which he acts towards Mor or Elain, we can see that his strength in loving someone isn't connected to words, but rather than that - presence and behavior.

#elriel #pro elriel #elain and azriel #elain x azriel #pro azriel #elriel meta #elriel theory #azriel