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yorsgirl · 24 days

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Perhaps, in another realm

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: An elixir of life – you, destined solely for his consumption. Yet, in his pursuit, he forgot, he sipped away your essence, your breath of life.

Tropes: Dark romance, Angst, fluff.

Warnings: implied nsfw, implied forced intimacy, forced marriage, baby-trapping, knife play(intimate acts using a knife), yandere(someone completely infatuated with a person, prepared to commit violent acts for them) themes, isolation, trauma, one-sided love implied, non-explicit violence, mild stockholm syndrome(to empathize with one's captor), misogyny(the idea that women are inferior to men), minor character death, healthily unhealthy relationship, Sukuna being a red-green flag, Sukuna has eyes for no one except his wife, Cameo: Uraume (they/them pronouns).

General Warnings: Heian Era, strict Japanese setting, usage of Japanese terms(glossary provided), True form!Sukuna, husband!Sukuna, wife!reader, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3.7k

Glossary

Ryomen Sukuna beholds secrets which he musn't.

Each dawn's awakening, he notes the sun's radiant dance on your irises. Marking the gentle arc of your lips, a telltale sign of mirth's embrace. By the garden's edge, he watches as the winds tousle and play with your hair curls.

With each flicker of your essence, he can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his own inability to guard his heart against the allure of your presence. Each time your unpredictability unfolds before him, he curses his own vulnerability for the arising tenderness within him.

It vexes him deeply.

Gnawing at the recesses of his, once assumed, dormant heart. Yet, now brought to life by unknown sensations – fuzzy and irksome.

An elixir of life – you. Meant to be solely consumed by him.

Your intricate curls destined to be twirled in his fingers alone. Singularly, he'd stand as the privileged observer, captivated by your brilliant elegance. Your figure draped in the resplendent folds of an opulent kimono, delicately bestowed upon you by his hands.

Thus, he embarked on the sole course he could comprehend – take you.

Splitting you away from the familiarity of a family, hearth and hamlet; for in his eyes, your fragile essence demands his safeguarding against this wicked, cruel realm.

Persuading you, that a life enfolded in his embrace had no reason for trepidation. Your purity, too immaculate to endure the harshness of existence.

Yet, persuasion faltered; your resolute heart held no inclination to remain in his grasp. Mounting a relentless siege, to break free from him and his distorted path.

"You crave peril as I assume, so be it," He conceded. "But know this: I'll be the sole peril haunting your very being."

Pressed beneath the weight of his body upon the bed, your resistance proves to be futile against his strength. Leaving you ensnared in a struggle where defiance falters in presence of his immense power.

"Isn't this what you desired? Didn't you yearn for peril?" He questions, his forefinger trailed across the delicate curve of your neck, assessing the rhythmic beat of your pulse point.

"Fear not, I shall burn the world down to literal ashes until none poses a threat to you, save for me, of course."

For danger, befalling upon you while his eyes held the witness and hands were the forebearer of pain – he'd allow. After all, he embodied peril, haunting humanity for centuries.

"My dearest," He began, twirling a blade before your defiant gaze. "I've wielded this to afflict your kin but fear not, it shall yield pure ecstacy for you."

Said so, he thrusted the timber end of the blade within your slick, delicate folds. Your screams shunned out over his malevolent laughter, fingers twisted the cotton sheets as he glided the blade in-and-out of you.

Blood dripped down his wounded hand, staining the white to red, yet his countenance held no response to pain. Gaze fixated upon your shuddering form, underneath him.

He was no stranger to the acts committed in bed. Knowledgeable of all ministrations and threads he needed to ensnared in order to make it pleasurable. Yet, you found no pleasure in this undoing.

The act of intimacy, which you envisioned to be filled with love while your lover would pepper kisses on your skin much akin to the gentle touch of spring's warmth.

That dream left shattered like shards of glass when your chastity was cruelly left to ruins under his harsh caress.

The night stretched on, your anguish unending as he remained vigilant, subjecting you to his torment.

When it ceased, he gingerly held your fragility while tears streamed down your eyes. He cradled your head in his palm, enfolding your trembling form against his chest as he murmured endearments into your parched ears.

You feebly hit on his chest, for you were seeking comfort from your captor – a sickening act.

He brought you pain and despair, yet here he was, bringing you solace in his arms. A sickening man, indeed, he was.

And with him, you were to stay.

You kneeled before the shrine deity.

Decked in a white shiromuku with traces of pink pattern embellishing the fabric, haori lowered just above your lips – grateful to the one who dressed you. Moisture laden lashes would've been a sight for sore eyes.

Beside you, your husband knelt. A black montsukini hakama draped around your self-proclaimed fiance and soon to be husband. Perhaps, you'd have seized the moment to admire him in such a lavish attire if he didn't commit the acts he did.

Abduction and coercion reigned heavy on your mind, the priest's chanting muffled over your loud thoughts. Your fear of the impending, palpable.

Later, you stood by his side, bedecked in jewels, unknown to you. Countless villagers and curses bowed before you but you were a foreigner to such deference.

It was his decree. For he was the King of curses and you – his consort, his queen.

Sukuna witnessed you gazing at the pond situated in his garden.

You gazed upon the lotus blooming at the heart of the pond, longingly. Reaching out for it, the trailing end of your garment splashed in the water – a futile attempt, too distant to grasp.

He stifled a snort on the brink of his lips as he descended into the garden, tethering on the stoned pads placed in between soil – approaching you.

"You desire that flower, wife?"

You rose swiftly, clutching the dampened hem of your attire. Refusing to meet his gaze, you brushed off the fabric, clearing away the soil.

"Apologies," You murmured. "I was just curious."

"That doesn't answer my question." He stated, an arch of his eyebrow at your frame. "Do you yearn for it?"

Standing before him, a hush lingered in the air, mere seconds passing. Fingers fidgeting, you nibbled on your inner cheek.

"Perhaps," you admitted, finally locking eyes with his feet once he takes a step forward. Bracing for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

You shouldn't have considered it. Entertaining the thought of plucking it behind his back, hoping he wouldn't notice, all the while unaware of his presence. You should have realized. Defiance in the past had met harsh retribution. This would be no exception.

"I beg–"

"Enough," He interjected.

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched tightly. This was worse. A single mistake, and you're sealed to a worse fate.

Yet, the vision never bore life.

He took your right hand, delicately clasping it within his own. Slowly, he pried open each finger, tenderly placing something within. Curiosity overrides your apprehension, and you cautiously open your eyes – finding the lotus nestled in your palm.

Your lips parted in astonishment as you gaze up at him, wonderstruck.

"Apologies should not leave your lips for trying to claim what is rightfully yours." He asserted, a ghost of an arc perched upon his lips.

"You desire something, you speak up," He waited, letting the words sink down. "Its upon me, how I'll bring it to fruition."

"You are to accompany master to dinner tonight," Uraume conveyed, head and eyes lowered in a humble bow.

The fusuma slid shut, signaling their departure, leaving you to your solitude once again.

Lately, companionship has been ceased from your existence. Confined to your chambers by Sukuna's decree that none other than he should share a moment with you. Save for his devoted servant and few maids he deemed worthy, who prepared you for the day.

Upon your bed, you rested, gazing into a void. Softly humming a melody, reminiscent of a distant song, echoing from the depths of your memory; harkening down the familial embrace in your ancestral village.

The day commenced to dusk, the sky donning a cloak of darkness – welcoming the night's silhouette.

Attended by chosen handmaidens, you were draped in a lavish kimono of crimson and ivory. Crushed red cherry paste graced your lips, a stroke of kohl ran along your lashlines.

You beheld your reflection, lovely; yet the joy eluded you. Unable to savor your captivating visage amidst your plight.

You were escorted to the dining hall by Uraume. As the doors parted, your captor, your husband, awaited you; seated on the head of the table. You took your place across him, evading his malevolent stare, your attention fixed solely on the delicacies presented by the servants.

"Afraid to meet my gaze, wife?" He inquired, his smirk palpable in his tone.

Still, you didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on your folded hands resting neatly on your lap. "I fear, I am not deserving to meet your eyes, your highness."

His sight danced upon your figure, measuring you as though you were his quarry. A chuckle escaped him as he poured the sake in his ochoko, indulging in a sip.

"Amusing, how you speak so when you are moons away from birthing my offspring, wife."

Your frame grew rigid, lips drawn tight whilst you glanced at your burgeoning womb.

Restraints couldn't bond you to him forever, he comprehended that moons past. Thus, he had to resort to unruly stratagems. Seeding you with his progeny – rendering you incapable of fleeing him.

If only, you acquiesced and remained by his side, as he craved, he wouldn't have acted thus. But your resolve left him with no alternative.

Not a matter to ponder his head upon, he would've planted his seed in you eventually. A kinship with you, his aspiration.

"I wouldn't leave you famished in such a state, wife. Begin eating." He declared, slicing a strip of meat with his chopsticks.

Eating, as if it were possible in such a condition. The satisfaction of a hearty meal has long deserted you. You didn't suspect the flavors of dishes perched before you. Furthermore, you lacked appetite.

You partook in meals solely to survive.

With adjoined palms, you offered a silent prayer to the almighty reigning above you. And so, you began.

Blood bathed the tatami mats of your chambers.

A severed head of a, newly appointed, handmaiden, laid near your feet. Her corpse, probably resulted into hundreds– no thousands of strips, indistinguishable.

Your stance remained rigid and motionless. Terror evident on your countenance, fragile fingertips shaking with shock and apprehension.

"Ah wife," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. He approached you, stepping over the puddle of blood and sliced flesh.

"You weren't supposed to witness that– come," He gingerly caressed your skin, ushering you out of his chambers with a hand on your back.

"Uraume," He summoned his loyal servant, as on cue, they knelt before their master. "Have the maids tidy this mess."

With the subtle nod, Uraume pivoted around, carrying out their master's command alike a proclamation from thee almighty.

Snapping a life wasn't on his schedule today. He wished to spent it with you, hence summoning you back to your chambers.

Perhaps, a foolish handmaiden, attracted by his visage, made the decision to lure him with her appeal. Lowering her uniform to display her curve of of breast, singing praises of his brilliance to him.

Taken him to be resembling any ordinary man, giving into his desires by just any woman's revealed skin. Alas! He had no interest in any woman other than his wife.

An act of like that, only receives the treatment he'd bestow upon any mortal other than you.

Death.

"I must say, you look lovely, my queen." Twirling a strand of your hair, he pushed it behind your ear.

Upon the engawa of your husband's abode, you knelt, sight fixated on the swarm of fireflies illuminating the garden.

Sukuna held his stance beside you, lower two hands bearing his weight behind, the third perched upon his arched knee. He set the kiseru down with the fourth, his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin; coaxing your towards him.

"Intriguing, you are," He remarked, eyebrow arched.

"Such defiance you displayed upon our initial union, and now, you show indifference. Continuously subjecting me to such blank stares and compliance." A hint of exasperation lingered his tone.

"Isn't that what you wished for?" You retorted, a moment later.

Drawing you near, his lips brushed against yours, "Perhaps, I did do." He murmured, breath caressing your cheeks, prompting a flutter of your eyelids.

"But now, I yearn for something greater."

With that, he seized your lips in a fervent, fiery kiss. Only parting, a hair's breath away, to allow you to catch your breath.

He pivoted you gently, drawing you into his embrace. Two arms encircled your waist, one caressing your swollen belly. Third, Brushing aside your hair, you heard the tinkling of ornaments. Moments later, a chain adorned your neck, a crimson gemstone nestled between your collarbones.

"Ruby?"

"Rubies are ill-suited during pregnancy, its diamond" He corrected, whispering beside your ear, securing the clasp of the chain. "Unlike most, this one's tint sets it apart than rest."

"For what?" You questioned, assessing the gem like it were poison. Grasping it between your middle finger and thumb, the lantern lights reflected on its surface. Though small, you knew it amounted to more than your ancestral wealth.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my wife with jewels?"

A moment passed in silence, your gazed him through your peripheral vision, the next. "Perhaps not, its beautiul."

"Turn around," He commanded, you complied instinctively. Turning your body to face him.

His gaze met yours at first, second they drifted to the chain bedecked on your neck and on third, he glanced at both, at once.

The jewel's radiance evoked with you being it's wearer.

A grin cracked upon his lips, gingerly holding your cheek in his calloused hands in which you begrudgingly leaned in. With a mouth, summoned on his palm, he placed a chaste kiss on your skin.

"Just how Intriguing you are, wife."

Love for your son eluded you.

A splitting image of his father with the identical hair and carmine tinted eyes. You pondered if he'd grow up to be just like your husband.

At days, you couldn't muster the courage to cast your eyes upon him. His mere presence: a testament to your plight, evidence that you were no longer the woman you once were and evidence to your compliance to Sukuna's desires.

Even then, you never shied away from your duties as a mother.

Perhaps, some love existed, for he wielded your flesh and blood too.

You were rendered from ever escaping. Though half-heartedly, you didn't wish to leave your child with Sukuna even though you despised both of their existence.

In this era, nurturing a child as a sole woman was beyond grasp. For all held the thought, as a woman your sole duty was to remain by your husband's side and bear his offspring.

You couldn't return to your home either. Your father, though loved you, would never let you set foot in his abode ever again.

Reasons: You were abducted by a man, your chastity stripped off of you. You were no longer pure in any sense.

He wouldn't tarnish his family name and reputation for just a daughter.

Moreover, your matrimony with the wicked, king of curses had reached rivers far; binding you to his side forever.

Peril loomed at every turn, dangling your life by a single thread. Easily snapped by even the weakest of men. Sukuna's adversaries would leave no stone unturned to reach him, venturing as far to lay down the life of his innocent wife. Someone absolved of his transgressions.

Reluctantly, you accepted that remaining by his side was the wisest decision.

You cradled your son in your embrace, rocking him back and forth as you hummed a lullaby to put him to sleep.

Once his snores serenaded the room, you tenderly placed him upon his cot, adjacent to your own resting place. Gentle pats graced his chest, once you noted him stirring in the embrace of slumber.

"Come to bed," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. Compliance swiped in your being, a swift rotation of your heels after you had checked your son to be far from awakening. You parted the curtains and perched upon the bed – lying beside your husband.

His arms encircled around your waist, drawing you to his chest, he inhaled your scent.

Your body tensed when his lips brushed against your nape. You dreaded the inevitable.

Six moons had passed, since he last embraced you intimately. The last two, post your son's arrival, were a blur of exhaustion. From tending to your physical strain and catering to your son's ceaseless crave of attention.

Tonight, all you longed for was to surrender yourself to slumber, wrapped in embrace of gentle linens. Alas, it seemed that wish would remain unfulfilled.

You were keenly aware of his intentions tonight – for he was but a man. Thus, you braced yourself.

You waited in anticipation, for him to act on his desires. Yet, it did not come to pass.

You cracked your eyelids open, stealing a glance at him. His carmine eyes met yours in a resolute stare, holding it with unwavering poise.

"Retire to sleep," he finally remarked, tenderly brushing aside the tendrils from your weary visage.

A year prior, during the early nights of your newly forged union, you would have taken a moment to contemplate his actions, perhaps even staying awake the entire night to discern his intentions.

Now, whether out of trust or simply exhaustion from the demands of motherhood – you found yourself slipping into a dreamless slumber without further ado.

The haunting nightmare of humanity, he was; yet, you found solace in falling asleep in his embrace.

His son has taken just after you.

Verily, his offspring could be likened unto a veritable likeness of himself in countenance, yet in comportment and carriage, he bespoke tales of you.

Awaking to the crack of dawn, shedding tears should companionship elude him. Taking solace in the embrace of the verdant garden, to which you oft escorted him. Even directing reproachful glances towards him, his father, whilst cradled lovingly in his paternal arms.

Beneath your eyes lay heavy shadows, hollows etched upon your cheeks, and a perpetual frown graced your lips, save for moments spent conversing with your offspring.

Sukuna escorted his sobbing kin from their chambers, affording you the much-needed respite that has eluded you of late; his offspring casted a disdainful gaze upon him.

"What? Speak up if you wish to," He queried, a playful lilt adorning his speech.

He tenderly traced his son's tender cheek with his claw, wary of leaving any mark upon his cherubic visage. His son seized his finger in both tiny hands, elevating it as though clutching a covert weapon – scrutinizing the nail and the ridges with keen interest.

His little one beamed, a gesture akin to the gentle breeze of summer, bestowed upon him by the heavens above. A giggle swift past his lips – a laughter, he assumed angel's melody wouldn't sound better.

His smile was yours – Sukuna realized. Perhaps, he hadn't completely taken after him in physical features.

Rocking his form back and forth on his arms, a tender smile danced upon his lips.

"Lower the tone, child. Your mother rests inside."

Sukuna couldn't help but contemplate alternative scenarios.

He sipped his sake, his gaze fixed upon your figure, leaning against the amado – your eyes lingering on the cherry blossom trees outside, in the garden.

The fragrance of spring permeated the air, imbuing a soothing atmosphere, starkly contrasting with the terror he instilled upon the village beyond the river.

At moments such as these, he can't help but ponder on the possibility of attaining a kinship with you, without resorting to unruly methods.

His thoughts rewind to the clash conversation he shared with you, mere moments past.

In your gaze, defiance ablazed, aimed straight at him.

"What's your intent? To end my life? Proceed, now. Who held you back? Proceed. Perhaps, I'd choose that fate over spending another day with you."

"Make no mistake," You pressed on. "My sentiment for you isn't love, don't deceive yourself. What festers within me is pure, unadulterated hate."

How could he let slip from memory? A curse he was, brutal and unyielding. Unwelcomed, marked with shame – The disgraceful one. How could he fail to recall? Love's realm, forever beyond the reach of his reach.

He seized you, by means unorthodox yet deemed vital. Yet, he finds himself lost in contemplation.

What if he had treaded a different path?

Would a love aglow your heart if he had courted you in a proper manner? Would you accept him in your life – a husband, a companion, a lover? Would you had willingly become his?

For your presence brought his heart back to life; in doing so, the life and light was lost from your eyes.

Scorned by the desire to claim you as his, the thought of your own desires, feelings was pushed to the desolate corners of his mind.

In another realm, he assumes– in another realm, he might have treated you properly from the very beginning.

In another realm, you wouldn't have to have a lingering threat struck on your mind. You wouldn't fear him.

In a realm beyond, you'd stand beside him by choice, not coercion. A realm where he'd navigate every step flawlessly. A realm where, instead of vowing to set the world ablaze for you, he'd pledge to journey with you until the world's end.

Perhaps, in another realm, you'd fall in love with him like he did for you in this.

A/N: uhm uhm uhm, just typed down an idea which I had for days + I used a new format of literal english (idk how it turned out, I am so sorry if it's cringe 😭) + I fucking don't know how to end stories so bear with me.

Pictures - Visual representations of architecture and attires described in this tale.

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hamletthedane · 9 months

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Hamlet’s Age

Not to bring up an age-old debate that doesn’t even matter, but I have been thinking recently how interesting Hamlet’s age is both in-text and as meta-text.

To summarize a whole lot of discussion, we basically only have the following clues as to Hamlet’s age:

Hamlet and Horatio are both college students at Wittenberg. In Early Modern/Late Renaissance Europe, noble boys typically began their university education at 14 and usually completed at their Bachelor’s degree by 18 or 19. However, they may have been studying for their Master’s degrees, which was typically awarded by age 25 at the latest. For reference, contemporary Kit Marlowe was a pretty late bloomer who received a bachelor’s degree at 20 and a master’s degree at 23.

Hamlet is AGGRESSIVELY described as a “youth” by many different characters - I believe more than any other male shakespeare character (other than 16yo Romeo). While usage could vary, Shakespeare tended to use “youth” to mean a man in his late teens/very early 20s (actually, he mostly uses it to describe beardless ‘men’ who are actually crossdressing women - likely literally played by young men in their late teens)

King Hamlet is old enough to be grey-haired, but Queen Gertrude is young enough to have additional children (or so Hamlet strongly implies)

Hamlet talks about plucking out the hairs of his beard, so he is old enough to at least theoretically have a beard

In the folio version, the gravedigger says he became a gravedigger the day of Hamlet’s birth, and that he’s be “sixteene here, man and boy, thirty years.” However, it’s unclear if “sixteene” means “sixteen” or “sexton” (ie has he worked here for 16 years but is 30 years old, or has he been sexton there for thirty years?)

Hamlet knew Yorick as a young child, and the gravedigger says Yorick was buried 23 years ago. However, the first quarto version version of Hamlet says “dozen years” instead of “three and twenty.” This suggests the line changed over time. (Or that the bad quarto sucks - I really need to make that post about it, huh…)

Yorick is a skull, and according to the gravedigger’s expertise, he has thus been dead for at least 7-8 years - implying Hamlet is at least ~15yo if he remembers Yorick from his childhood

One important thing sometimes overlooked - Claudius takes the throne at King Hamlet’s death, not Prince Hamlet. That is mostly a commentary on English and French monarchist politics at the time, but it is strange within the internal text. A thirty year old Hamlet presumably would have become the new monarch, not the married-in uncle (unless Gertrude is the vehicle through which the crown passes a la Mary I/Phillip II - certainly food for thought)

Honestly, Hamlet is SO aggressively described as being very young that I’m fairly confident the in-text intention is to have him be around 18-23yo. Placing his age at 30yo simply does not make much sense in the context of his descriptors, his narrative role, and his status as a university student.

However, it doesn’t really matter what the “right” answer is, because the confusion itself is what makes the gravedigger scene so interesting and metatextual. We can basically assume one of the following, given the folio text:

Hamlet really is meant to be 30yo, and that was supposed to surprise or imply something to the contemporary audience that is now lost to us

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was written down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text justification of the seeming disconnect between age of actor and description of “youth”

Older actors were playing Hamlet by the time the folio was set down, and the gravedigger’s description was an in-text JOKE making fun of the fact that a 30-something year old is playing a high-school aged boy. This makes sense, as the gravedigger is a clown and Hamlet is a play that constantly pokes fun at its own tropes and breaks the fourth wall for its audience

The gravedigger cannot count or remember how old he is, and that’s the joke (this is the most common modern interpretation whenever the line isn’t otherwise played straight). If the clown was, for example, particularly old, those lines would be very funny

Any way you look at it, I believe something is echoing there. It seems like this is one of the many moments in Hamlet where you catch a glimpse of some contemporary in-joke about theater and theater culture* that we can only try to parse out from limited context 430 years later. And honestly, that’s so interesting and cool.

*(My other favorite example of this is when Hamlet asks Polonius about what it was like to play Julius Caesar in an exchange that pokes fun of Polonius’ actor a little. This is clearly an inside-joke directed at Globe regulars - the actor who played Polonius must have also played Julius Caesar in Shakespeare’s play, and been very well reviewed. Hamlet’s joke about Brutus also implies the actor who played Brutus is one of the main cast in Hamlet - possibly even the prince himself, depending on how the line is read).

#hamlet #hamlet meta #hamlet’s age #this obviously does NOT imply anything about being 30yo btw #any age is a good age to be driven to madness by guilt and grief #It’s just very usual for shakespeare to describe somebody well past their apprentice age as a ‘youth’ SO MUCH #and that makes those lines very interesting #shut up e #willy shakes #posting this while EXHAUSTED going to see a million errors and tone problems tomorrow sorry in advance yall #**very unusual #long post #posting Hamlet meta like it’s 2014 hell yeah

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txttletale · 9 months

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Do you have recs for combatless rpgs? sorry if someones asked this ! im getting into ttrpgs now and its just pretty hard to find anything non combat focused ?

i recommended wanderhome (melancholy animal roadtrip), dream askew (queer postapocalyptic survival), microscope (collaborative worldbuilding), and crescent moon (kids learning and growing in a fantasy land) in resposne to an ask earlier today. other great rpgs that aren't combat focused include:

chuubo's marvelous wish-granting engine: i'll level with you, if you're just getting into rpgs this one might be A Lot because it's quite mechanically complex. but it's a beautiful game about having ghibliesque coming-of-age adventures in a surreal dreamy world.

nobilis is by the same person (jenna moran, a genuine game design pioneer and genius) -- it's about being godlets, the living embodiments of concepts from the concrete to the abstract. you might find yourself fighting in this game, but it's unlikely to look anything like 'combat'.

brindlewood bay, which is about being elderly women investigating murders.

pasión de las pasiones, a pbta (powered by the apocalypse) game about doing ridiculous romance drama shit based on telenovelas

monsterhearts, about teenaged monsters having weird drama and exploring their sexuality. think buffy or twilight, but queerer

pigsmoke, about being professors at a college of magic and competing to see who can publish the best paper (yes, really)

the girlfriend of my girlfriend is my friend, about... i mean i think the title makes it pretty clear! being gay and poly and kinda broke

it's been a long, long, time, about two people who used to date, their relationship, their lives after it, and their reunion

sagas of the icelanders, about being viking settlers in iceland during the saga period and playing out quasimythical dramas

hieronymous, about being a bunch of sinners making your way across hieronymous bosch's garden of earthly delights

thousand year old vampire, a solo journalling game about being a vampire and living through long stretches of history

blow up hamlet, where your table performs hamlet while changing the plot and improvising new plot beats at semi-random

slugblaster, about being rowdy teens hoverboarding through interdimensional rifts in the spirit of 90s teen movies

woo! that's a fuckin' lot of ttrpgs, but i wanted to give a lot of suggestions because i think it's so important for people getting into the hobby to understand the breadth of games out there and how far from the popular image created by D&D they can go! there are two-player and GM-less and even one-player games on this list. you can do anything! the world of rpgs is so fucking wide and beautiful. good luck and i hope you find something that speaks to you!

(oh, also, my game, most trusted advisors -- about being the untrustworthy privy council to a dipshit king and falling over each other's nested dipshit schemes -- has no combat in it. just saying!)

#ask #ttrpg

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butchhamlet · 1 year

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i said i was going to arrange a list of my favorite articles/criticism about shakespeare, so here’s my first little roundup! obligatory disclaimer that i don’t necessarily agree with or endorse every single point of view in each word of these articles, but they scratch my brain. will add to this list as i continue reading, and feel free to add your own favorites in the reblogs! :]

essays

Is Shakespeare For Everyone? by Austin Tichenor (a basic examination of that question)

Interrogating the Shakespeare System by Madeline Sayet (counterpoint/parallel to the above; on Shakespeare’s place in, and status as, imperialism)

Shakespeare in the Bush by Laura Bohannan (also a good parallel to the above; on whether Shakespeare is really culturally “universal”)

The Unified Theory of Ophelia: On Women, Writing, and Mental Illness ("I was trying to make sense of the different ways men and women related to Ophelia. Women seemed to invoke her like a patron saint; men seemed mostly interested in fetishizing her flowery, waterlogged corpse.”)

Hamlet Is a Suicide Text—It’s Time to Teach It Like One (on teaching shakespeare plays about suicide to high schoolers)

Commuting With Shylock by Dara Horn (on listening to MoV with a ten-year-old son, as modern jewish people, to look at that eternal question of Is This Play Antisemitic?)

All That Glisters is Not Gold (NPR episode, on whether it’s possible to perform othello, taming of the shrew, & merchant to do good instead of harm)

academic articles

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to the Merchant of Venice (apologies about the highlights here; they are not mine; i scanned this from my rented copy)

the Norton Shakespeare’s intro to Henry the Fourth part 1 (and apologies for the angled page scans on this one; see above)

Richard II: A Modern Perspective by Harry Berger Jr (this is the article that made me understand richard ii)

Hamlet’s Older Brother (“Hamlet and Prince Hal are in the same situation, the distinction resting roughly on the difference between the problem of killing a king and the problem of becoming one. ... Hamlet is literature’s Mona Lisa, and Hal is the preliminary study for it.”)

Egyptian Queens and Male Reviewers: Sexist Attitudes in Antony & Cleopatra Criticism (about more than just reviewers; my favorite deconstruction of shakespeare’s cleopatra in general)

Strange Flesh: Antony and Cleopatra and the Story of the Dissolving Warrior (“If Troilus and Cressida is [Shakespeare’s] vision of a world in which masculinity must be enacted in order to exist, Antony and Cleopatra is his vision of a world in which masculinity not only must be enacted, but simply cannot be enacted, his vision of a world in which this particular performance has broken down.”)

misc

Elegy of Fortinbras by Zbigniew Herbert (poem that makes me fucking insane)

Dirtbag Henry IV (what it sounds like.)

Cleopatra and Antony by Linda Bamber (what if a&c... was good.)

#essays/academic articles is sort of a false dichotomy but i wanted to separate these into More Casual versus More Academic. so.#misc category exists because. i like those two things so much. not at all for the same reasons #max.txt #misc #hamlet #merchant of venice #henry iv #richard ii #antony and cleopatra #there we are.

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here-there-be-bad-dragons · 7 months

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Gender fuckery thy name is Hamlet

(Actors in order Asta Nielsen in the role of Hamlet in the 1921 silent film, Joan Crawford in the role of Hamlet in a 1929 photoshoot, Maxine Peake as Hamlet in the 2015 film)

#gender fuckery #hamlet #shakespeare #plays #women in art #asta nielsen #joan crawford #maxine peake

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lavenderapollo · 5 months

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not to continue to bring up hamlet in the context of dorian gray but the parallels are soooo good i mean come on

dorian - hamlet: self-centered, unhealthily fixated on life, death, youth and how all things we hold dear die the quickest, bad at being nice to women

basil - horatio: gay, in love with the titular character, watching the person he lives for devolve into madness and pain without being able to help

sybil vane and her family - ophelia, laertes, polonius: literally their scenes together in the beginning before jim goes to australia are perfect parallels for laertes’ talking to ophelia before he goes to france. like, INSANELY similar. and then when sybil dies…

i also think it’s interesting that, of all the plays sybil performs in, she never plays ophelia. i could be wrong, but im like 80% sure that dorian never mentions her in hamlet.

lord henry is an interesting case because you could read him as rosencrantz/guildenstern, given his friendship with both basil and dorian, and i don’t disagree with that reading at all. but he sews the first seeds of doubt in dorian, he’s the reason dorian starts to freak out about the impermanence of youth. to me, he functions as the ghost. i mean, think of it:

basil/horatio meets henry/the ghost in the first scene, dorian/hamlet comes along and basil/horatio BEGS for him to be careful because he doesn’t want his best friend to suffer corruption. henry/ghost and dorian/hamlet have a private conversation which alters the latter’s outlook and mental state, and when he returns, he isn’t the same.

i’m so,,, i’m so normal about this.

also sybil’s suicide/not suicide. AGHHHHHHH

#shakespeare #hamlet #william shakespeare #the picture of dorian gray #oscar wilde #dorian gray #hamratio #romeo and juliet #classic literature #classic lit memes #literary analysis

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corpsebasil · 11 months

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Hii!!!!! Can I request a nikolai x reader where she hates nikolai with every morsal in herself but she soon realises the reason she hates him is cause she is scared of liking him as she has had a bad experience with men in the past. And one day he traps her and asked her what he has done to make her hate him so much and she breaks down about what has happened and how she loves him so much. His smile, face, personality, his kind and caring attributes and they share a heartfelt kiss

Sí

Do You Love Me-> N.L.

The Lady that lives in the Grand Palace is immune to the Prince’s attention.

He wouldn’t. Leave you. Alone.

You didn’t like anything about him. Not his stupid face, or his ridiculous sense of humor, or his cocky attitude that made you want to vomit when you watched him turn on the charm for other women. You especially hated him when constantly you badgered you, seeking you out.

“Lady Y/N, darling!” You heard a cheerful voice call behind you as you worked on stitching up a tear in your nightgown. You flinched and poked yourself in the finger, cursing under your breath as you stuck the wounded digit into your mouth.

The prince entered uninvited; he had a habit of showing up in the middle of the day, bored after his state meetings around noon and desperate for entertainment. That was all you were, apparently. Entertainment.

“Your Highness.” You greeted tightly, glancing up from your perch on your window-seat, your knees tucked up to you chest. “And to what do I owe this grand displeasure?”

“I’m bored.” He sighed, dropping onto your couch. Of course he was. “I’ve missed you desperately.”

“You saw me at dinner yesterday.”

“You didn’t even speak to me.”

It was true. He’d been trying to get your attention for at least an hour. He’d even gone so far as to wave dramatically, drawing your annoyed eye slowly to him, only for him to flash you a beaming grin.

That was it.

He just wanted to smile at you.

“Maybe you should take the hint.”

You could almost hear his aggressive eye-roll. Nikolai swore he’d never rolled his eyes so much before he met you. Every since you’d come to the palace, a beautiful lady of high ranking, his breath had been ripped right out of his lungs. You’d been polite, at first. Sweet even. But as he spent more time with you, tried harder to be your friend and eventually court you, you grew cold.

And he didn’t know why.

“You look stunning today.” He tried again, smiling sweetly as you glanced up, your eyes meeting his.

“I know.”

“Glad you know. I love a confident woman.” When you ignored him, he pressed on. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

“It’s definitely another day in Ravka.”

“I have a proposition. We could—”

“Not interested.”

“You didn’t even hear it.” He whined, and you looked up.

“Anywhere you are—” you began, giving him a firm stare, “—is where I do not want to be.” You returned to your stitching, smiling in amusement to yourself.

There was a weighted pause, and you glanced up. Nikolai’s expressed flickered for a moment, before smoothing into neutrality. He stood, wiping imaginary dust off of his trousers.

“Of course, well. Wouldn’t want to burden you.” He said crisply, and tugged something out of his pocket. He laid a piece of paper down on the couch and you were surprised to see the tips of his ears had gone a bit pink. “I bought tickets for that play I know you like. What is it? The one with the skull and the emo guy?”

“Hamlet?”

“Yeah, that one. We don’t have to sit together. Or—you can go, and I’ll stay here.” He smiled tightly and nodded, leaving your bedroom before you could say a thing.

That night, you did go to Hamlet. And it was amazing.

You got back to the palace feeling like you were walking on air; something about the theater made your heart sing, and you were surprised Nikolai knew anything about that.

You walked down to the hall to your rooms, clad in a splendid dress that swept across the floor, emerald jewelry dangling from your ears and neck. Gifts from Nikolai, obviously, but they were the best options you had, so of course you wore them. You weren’t vain enough to toss away emeralds.

You had barely gotten your handle on the doorknob when a guard stopped you, handing you a piece of folded stationary.

“Lady Y/L/N.” He greeted, nodding his head. He passed it to you wordlessly and you entered your rooms, breaking the seal as you walked. Then you paused, eyes flicking up to your coffee table.

A bouquet of spring flowers were in a grand vase on the table, as beautiful as any flowers you’d ever seen in your life. You were pleasantly surprised; you loved flowers. You smiled and moved over to smell them, then flicked open the note, eyes running across the elegant script.

‘Y/N,

I hope you enjoyed Hamlet. I certainly enjoyed sitting in my room all night pretending I was there. Imagine me holding a skull and whining about my dead friend. (Was it father? I don’t remember.) Anyways, I’m sure you looked magnificent. I heard from some servants that you were the prettiest Grisha they’d ever seen as they saw you leave.

I know they won’t, but I hope the flowers I sent will amount to even a fraction of your beauty. Maybe you’ll hate me a bit less tomorrow.

Yours,

Nikolai.’

Something tugged at your heart at those words, especially the last line. You grumbled to yourself and tossed the note into the bin, right on top of a multitude of others that he’d sent you. Some were long rants about what he’d did that day and requesting you write him back. Some were just one line, things like ‘you looked beautiful at dinner’ or ‘thinking about you by the way’.

It was annoying as hell and you didn’t know how to get through to him that you had no interest in the prince whatsoever. Sometimes it felt like he only chased after you because you were only woman he couldn’t have. You’d seen the way he flirted and had no interest in any of that.

Breakfast was a fun occasion, one in which you and a few of your Grisha friends sat at a small table in the tea-room, laughing over delicate sandwiches and tiny cakes. You had just popped a small slice of strawberry into your mouth, clad in your favorite green silk robe, when you glanced up.

Nikolai was entering the room, heading over to a group of men that were eating their own breakfasts. Soldiers, by the looks of them, all in uniform and ridiculously attractive. Your eyes tracked him, keeping watch on his movements as he approached the soldiers. They stood and laughed, grinning as they clapped him on the back and ushered him into a chair, their boyish voices loud and carrying.

Nikolai’s eyes darted to yours, as if magnetized, and you glanced away.

“He’s so handsome.” Your friend Marley sighed, propping her chin on a hand as she stared at the prince.

“He’s average at best.” You countered, following her gaze. “I mean really? Blondes?”

“I’m more of a brunet loving girl myself.” Lina said, pointing her fork at you. “I agree with Y/N. But he is rather handsome. I think he’d be my exception.”

The fourth girl at the table, Joanna, simply wrinkled her nose. She was into women, and had no interest in this line of conversation.

“He’s a guy. Who cares.”

“Y/N..” Marley purred, and you did not like her tone one bit. “I heard Nikolai got you invitations to the play last night.” She grinned. “And you went. Did you guys snuggle in the carriage the whole time?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“He didn’t go.” You said calmly, looping one leg over the other knee.

“What?” Both Marley and Lina exclaimed, and even Joanna looked surprised.

“Why not?” Marley asked, voice rising an octave.

“I didn’t want him there.”

“But—but he’s the prince.”

“Only you would find a way to turn down the most ridiculously high-ranking bachelor in the kingdom.” Lina grumbled.

“She’s a duchess in her own right.” Joanna argued, tucking a piece of her dark, shoulder length hair behind an ear. “Just because he’s a prince—”

“But he’s a prince!” Marley told you, eyes wide, and her voice carried a bit too loud. You cringed as the soldier’s table quieted down a fraction, then erupted into male laughter. Marley blushed.

“Go ahead and let all of Ravka know what we’re talking about.” Joanna grumbled, wiping her hands and standing up. “I’ve got to meet up with Rebecca. See you ladies later.” She beamed, wiggling her fingers at the three of you before sweeping out of the room, her cream-silk robe billowing behind her.

You shot Marley daggers with your eyes and the honey-blonde girl ducked her head, smiling to herself.

“I’m just saying.” Lina whispered, voice much lower now. “You guys need to come to my room around ten. Trust me.”

“Will there be fireworks? Copious amounts of kittens?” You asked drily. “Because that’s the only thing that’s going to interrupt the novel I’m reading.”

“If it’s one of those filthy novels I know you read, then you’ll like it.”

You wrinkled your nose.

“What?”

“Geez, Y/N, lighten up. Just come.” The black haired beauty groaned, her smooth tan arms crossing onto the table. “Pleaaaase?”

You glanced between the two girls, back and forth, then nodded.

“Fine.”

They both squeaked rather loudly, again too loud, and against your better judgement your eyes slid over to Nikolai. He was watching you, a soft smile on his face, and you felt your cheeks flush.

“See you then.” You said and abruptly stood, fastening your robe tighter around you.

And as you left the room, you could’ve sworn you felt his eyes tracking you the entire way out.

“Oh my god.” You scoffed, eyes wide as you yanked the current shut. “You didn’t tell me we were going to perve.”

“Just look at them.” Marley giggled, face practically glued to the window.

The guards were on their morning run, which included every soldier at breakfast, all shirtless and jogging across the front lawn, down the back trails to the woods. Which included, to your dismay, Nikolai.

Your mouth went slightly dry.

He was more ripped than half the men around him, golden skin glistening with sweat as he kept up with the very front of the pack. You were alarmed to see he was laughing, whereas some of the men behind him were red-faced and breathing hard.

“Does he—” you stopped yourself. “Do they always run at this time?”

“Mhmm.” Lina said, smiling coyly. “Right under my window. Makes for a lovely after breakfast treat.”

“You two are horrible.” You said, but a smile was pulling at your mouth. Your eyes went back to Nikolai, watching his back muscles flex as he ran ahead, chasing after the man in the very front as they rounded a corner. You tried not to laugh when the two began racing each other, full out sprinting for the lead while the others kept steady pace behind them.

“Ask it.” Lina demanded, and you raised your brow. “Ask what you want to ask.”

“I don’t—”

“Ask me you coward!”

“Fine. Does the prince always run with them?”

Marley and Lina exchanged looks.

“He served in the military…you know that, right? Of course he trains with them.”

You blinked. You’d always thought he was a pompous flirt. You had no idea he was a soldier. Nor that he was packing that much muscle under his outfits of state.

“I um. I didn’t know.” You admitted, biting your bottom lip. “How…strange.”

“He’s so brave.” Marley swooned, slumping dramatically against the window. “I would literally kill to be you. Kill.”

“No threats.” Lina giggled, poking Marley. “Anyways. They’ll come back around in about ten minutes. Let me grab my binoculars.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. Your friends would be the death of you.

You left Lina’s room, face flushed from laughing. You indeed had ended up using the binoculars at one point after much peer pressure, and the view was…well… You felt immensely creepy after about two seconds and tossed them back to her, saying that ladies of your stations shouldn’t bend to such inappropriate behavior.

So you walked down the hallway, towards the gardens, eager to get some fresh air when—when—

He didn’t see you at first, eyes closed as he drank from a water bottle, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. A hand-towel was looped around his neck, his bare chest glistening with sweat and—

“Y/N?” He called out, and your eyes snapped to his face. You hadn’t realized you’d frozen in place, ogling him like a damn lunatic. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.” You squeaked, raising your eyebrows as if to ask, what’s it to you? “Why are you topless? Decided to be a little sluttier than usual?”

“Slutty?” He scoffed, moving over to you as he screwed the cap on his bottle, an amused glint in his eyes. His teeth flashed in a grin as he stood in front of you and he was so tall up close you had to tilt your head up. “How am I slutty?”

“Running around flirting with everyone.” You said, raising a finger as if to tick off the reasons. “Sleeping with anything with a pulse. Oh—” you tapped your chin, pretending to think. “—and weren’t you caught at that orgy party last week? Everyone heard about it.”

Nikolai’s smile grew lazy and he tilted his head, his blonde hair curling a bit with the moisture of his sweat. His eyes scanned your face, then grew mischievous.

“Well.” He started, wiping his face off with his towel. “Since you’re so interested in my sex life, Lady Y/N, I’ll have you know I haven’t had sex in over a year.” You flushed and raised a hand for him to stop, but he continued. “I’m flirtatious by nature, sure. But you must know by now the only woman I want is you.” He leaned in closer, chills spreading across your body as his voice brushed the skin of your neck. “By the way, sweetheart? Lina’s windows are see-through.”

When he nipped your ear you jolted, lurching away with a flushed face, and his laugh echoed down the hallway as he walked past you, headed to take a shower.

“Nice binoculars by the way!” He called over a shoulder, and you wanted to kill Lina.

You sat in your rooms. You paced. You groaned into your pillow and sat up, crossing your arms over your chest. You hated him. You hated him. And yet the ghost of his teeth still warmed your ear, and his voice—and his body, and—

No. Absolutely not.

You let out an annoyed sound and rubbed your eyes, standing up to wrap your robe around yourself as you paced some more. You’d had experiences with princes. Arrogant assholes that wrung you out like a towel and left you to dry.

Prince Achileas was the last straw, a pompous ass that had made you feel completely in love. All until you found him mid-fuck with one of the servants, an affair you discovered had gone on for a long time. Possibly during your entire courtship.

You would not make that mistake again, ever. You would marry a nice, non royal, totally normal boy who—

A knock.

“Who is it?” You called after a beat, and the door opened a crack.

“May I walk you to dinner?” Nikolai asked, sticking his head in the door, and your patience was at its wits end, images of Achileas still haunting your thoughts.

“My god cant you just—” you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood and his eyebrows knit together.

“Can I what?”

“Fuck off and leave me alone?” You snapped, but immediately regretted it when a wounded look crossed his handsome face. He opened the door a fraction wider, leaning against the frame.

“What did I do to you, Y/N?” He asked, voice soft but strained. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Because!” You fought for words, a flush rising in your cheeks. “Because you annoy the shit out of me. You chase after me like a damn lap dog. What do I have to do to get through to you?”

He flinched like you’d slapped him, then held his hands up in surrender. You’d never seen him look so hurt; every rejection, every rude comment, was always swept under the rug as he tried harder and harder.

Now he was done.

“Alright.” He said, and it sounded like his words had to travel over a lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I apologize for following you around, and for trying to love you. I’m sincerely sorry.” Nikolai closed the door before you could respond, a soft click that made you wish he’d slammed it.

You were such an idiot.

Because you’d been lying to yourself. You knew, somehow, that he was genuine. That he kept trying because beyond your icy exterior, he saw something in you he longed for. And you, deep down, though you didn’t want to admit it—had never admitted it—had cared for the prince for quite some time now.

Fighting the ache in your throat you sat on your couch, pulling your knees to your chest, and decided not to go to dinner.

A week passed and you’d been watching, waiting, for him to find a new girl to chase. But he didn’t. In fact, he seemed to be a dimmer version of himself. He only spoke to his fellow soldiers, and avoided your presence.

It all came to a head at the nearest ball, one you were forced to attend by your friends, you eyes tracking Nikolai’s figure as he leaned against the wall, completely ignoring the party. You’d been following him with your stare all night, the hurtful words you’d said to him seared into your mind.

“What’s wrong with him?” Lina asked you, nudging your arm. “He’s been going on night runs alone, lately. Never used to do that.”

“I don’t know.” You lied, though your heart ached as you watched him.

Your eyes met and you saw him take a deep breath, his brow furrowing as you made eye-contact. You hoped he could see your pleading expression and apparently he did, because he pushed off the wall and headed in your direction.

Your stomach churned.

“Shit.” Marley squeaked, snatching Lina’s arm and dragging you away as the prince neared you, stopping a foot away.

“Enjoying yourself?” He asked, tone flat, and he was surprised by the immediate ‘no’ that left you. “No?”

“Are you?” You shot back, and he gave you a sad smile.

“No.” He told you, tilting his head. “You’ve been watching me. Making sure I leave you alone?”

“Nikolai—” You stopped, pained, and blinked up at him. “I’m sorry.” Your voice lowered and you felt ashamed at his stunned expression. “I’m really, really sorry.”

You were relieved when he didn’t make you work for his forgiveness; his face relaxed, a hesitant smile on his mouth.

“Y/N,” he sighed, blinking up at the ceiling. “I appreciate your apology. But if you truly do not want me to pursue you, I won’t.” You stared, but then he offered you his hand. “May we dance?”

You nodded wordlessly, ignoring the tightness in your chest, and allowed him to lead you out onto the floor. His hand found your waist, pulling you close, and you realized this was the most he’d ever touched you. His fingers locked with your own and you caught your breath.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured a minute into the dance, then cringed, like he wished he hadn’t said it. You closed your eyes, absorbing the feel of his hands. When he spun you and pulled you back in, he tugged you closer than you were before.

You took a shaking breath at the scent of him, and the warmth of him, and you remembered his words. Sorry for trying to love you. You’d never been truly loved by any man, only hurt, and it was hard to believe that Nikolai, the kindest, most generous man you’d ever met, could love you.

“I’m sorry.” You told him again, and his grip on you tightened. He tilted his face closer to yours to listen as you spoke, his blue eyes gentle. “It’s just—I’ve never—” you swallowed. “I’ve never been treated…right. Loved. And I didn’t trust you at first. It was easier to push you away.”

He sighed and shook his head.

“I’d have given you the world, Y/N.” He said, expression pained. “Anything you wanted. All of me.” He glanced down, eyes meeting yours. “I would’ve been yours.”

Would’ve.

The past tense isn’t lost on you and you pulled away, feeling stupid, and sad, and lonely and—and what had you expected? Him to still want you after what you’d said? You didn’t realize a tear of grief and self-hatred had slipped down your face until he cupped your cheeks, a low noise caught in his throat as his forehead touched your own.

“My sweet angel.” He murmured, tilting your face up. “I like you better without your claws.”

You didn’t care if this was inappropriate, didn’t care about onlookers, not when he kissed your brow softly, his smile weak when he pulled back. He gave you a nod that broke your heart and moved away, disappearing into the crowd.

You left the party.

Nikolai found you later, around midnight, sitting on the ground with your back against a stone bench in the garden. It was raining, a light sprinkle, but you’d been out here so long staring at nothing that your hair and dress were wet. You hugged your knees, chin propped on one leg, lost in thought.

“Lady Y/L/N?” The prince called, and you cringed at the formality. You didn’t turn, though, only stayed still as he sat beside you, blond hair growing damp. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You swallowed the knot in your throat before speaking.

“Are you sending me home?” You asked, voice strained as you stared ahead. The fear had began to plague you the moment you’d left the party. Without the prince’s affection, would he let you stay?

“What?” Nikolai demanded. When you only sniffled he turned your chin with his hand, forcing you to look at him. “Why would I—Saints, no, Y/N.”

“But you said you—you said would’ve. I ruined everything.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’m scared Nik, I’m scared to hurt you again—”

“Do you love me?”

“—I’m scared of being hurt—”

“Y/N.” He gripped your chin tighter. “Do you love me?”

“Fuck. Yes okay? I do and I cant stop and—”

Faster than you could blink he lunged into you, crushing your mouth to his. You swayed from the impact and collapsed against the wet grass, his body dropping onto yours. Your lips separated and you laughed, his eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

“God, say it out loud.” He told you, calming his amusement to kiss your cheek and temple. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you.” You said with a soft smile, and he kissed you again.

SORRY I GOT CARRIED AWAY LOL

#shadow and bone #nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #wattpad #nikolai x reader #shadow and bone imagine #fluff #six of crows #angst #Sturmhond

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fear-is-truth · 2 months

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Kai Anderson headcanons (sfw)

A/N: a complication of random things i think about kai anderson. character analysis maybe. some of them are basically self projection but i’m not gonna expose myself lol.

sex god.

milf lover.

king of sarcasm.

delusional god complex.

forgotten middle child.

24/7 resting bitch face.

extremely blunt. will not not hesitate to point out your flaws and insecurities, comes across as rude but also makes valid points.

uses all-in-one men’s body wash.

listens to ‘lose yourself’ by eminem at least 5 times a day.

plays clash royale.

lives off mountain dew and dorritos.

acts serious but low-key immature.

he’s got a pretty cute (but fake) smile he puts on in public. a heartfelt smile when chaos is happening.

total food whore. fastest way to win his heart is home-cooked meals.

second fastest way to win his heart is to kill someone for him.

has a saviour complex. likes to “fix” women to fit his vision.

incredibly decisive. impatient, too. if you’re having trouble deciding your drive-thru order, he’d just decide for you.

big three celebrity crushes: angelina jolie, cate blanchett, and charlize theron.

goes on a tirade every time the titanic movie is on tv. a firm believer in “there was plenty room on that door if that selfish bitch would just move her ass”.

wanted to join the debate team or theatre club in college but didn’t because (a. he was too shy and (b. he thought theatre was kinda gay. but he quotes fucking hamlet while killing people with a nail gun, so his inner theatre kid is still alive i guess.

used to read encyclopaedias when he was bored as a kid. consumes knowledge at a rapid speed because he’s determined no one gets the better of him. super competitive.

either takes scalding hot showers and comes out red like a lobster, or showers with freezing cold water. no in-between with this guy.

has a bunch of premium accounts: youtube, p0rnhub, spotify etc. because he’s good at hacking and why the hell not.

TAGLIST: @slvt4jamesmarch @kaismanwich @maddaline @evpeters87 @lacucarachapisser @howtobesasha @lissasharp @feefymo @stveharringtn @nickrhodeslittledarling @bluerthanvelvet444 @r8ttenapples @nahoyasboyfriend @taintandviolent @babygorewhore @kai-slut @doll3tt33 @babydollxxblood @coentinim @imsoamazing26 @silence-in-the-silver-state

#american horror story #ahs #kai anderson #evan peters #ahs cult #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson x y/n #ahs season 7 #evan peters x reader

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espinosaurusrexex · 1 year

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Just an idea :) for Sherlock, what if Enola is always trying to get him to date cuz either he's lonely or always focused on work. But he always turns down the idea. Then one day she lures him to her favorite bookshop (or cafe, etc) and casually introduces him to her favorite employee. And the pickup line just comes out of no where, even he is surprised lolz. Feel free to not use this at all if you get better ideas😂

Thank you so much for this idea! For writing purposes, this will take place in modern times (*writing purposes meaning me being too lazy to write period specific)

Cheesy Pick-up Line (Bingo Game)

!BINGO ASKS CLOSED!

College!Henry!SherlockHolmes x Female!Reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: a little bickering, awkward Sherlock, fluffy and cute

Enola giggled excitedly as she pushed past the glass double doors of her favorite library. Her brother was following behind closely, a disinterested look on his face as they entered the small building. For Enola, it was the perfect place to be, but Sherlock just asked himself what he was doing here instead of studying for his criminal justice exam next week.

What he had not concluded yet, was that Enola Holmes had an agenda far different from the story she had told her brother about just an hour ago. He didn’t know his sister had spent weeks finding a way to finally get him to leave his stuffy, foot-smelling boy room. She had mashed her brain about it as she roamed the shelves of her favorite place and when she checked out the other day, she was embarrassed to have thought of it so late. It was blatantly obvious. Her brother needed a girlfriend. Someone that would encourage him to live outside of his schoolwork every once in a while. And you were the perfect candidate for the job. Smiley and charming, intelligent and pretty, and on top of that, someone Enola liked very much. She had established a first-name basis with you over the hours she spent in the little library you worked at. Today, she would try to accomplish the same for Sherlock.

Sherlock stood between the rows of shelves, waiting for his sister to finish collecting the mountain of books he was sure she wasn’t even allowed to check out at once. She had recruited him to ‘help her carry them’ as if she weren’t very capable of it herself. And besides, Enola was the one always underlining her independence and that women could do just as much as men. Something wasn’t adding up.

Enola placed another book in his arms. One she had mindlessly pulled from the shelve to keep her story alive. It was a small sacrifice for the gratification she would get would her brother finally fall in love this evening. She was sure of it. No more feigned disinterest in the stories their family told about cousins and other relatives having their first partners. No more annoying dismissal of their mother’s subtle hints towards his isolating himself. No more bad moods because of the uncalled-for comments Mycroft threw at him when he visited with his fiancé. It was about to change today.

“Relativity Theory?” He lifted an eyebrow before Enola could disappear behind another shelf. “Hamlet? What kind of homework is this supposed to be?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Enola quipped before placing an autobiography in his arms.

“They’ll think you’re robbing this place.” He readjusted the books because even though he was fairly strong, they slipped in his grasp. “How are you planning on checking those all out?”

“Jokes on you, my check-out limit has been upgraded because I’m a regular.”

“To 17? That’s too many. Too many books in general. Even for your ADHD brain.”

She glared at him. “Well, that’s where you come into play. With your card, we can check out 15. And for the other two, I’ll just have to sweet talk my way through.”

“You’re impossible, Enola.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his younger sibling to the counter.

“Shut up, It’s hard carrying enough character for Mycroft and you. You should thank me, really.”

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath and then he placed the books down with a thud.

Enola Smiled as she saw you approach the counter from the back office. Once you were here, the hot phase of her plan would be set in motion. And she couldn’t wait.

“Good evening, Enola. I see you brought someone new with you today?” You asked kindly with a bright smile on your face. Most people that came into the library didn’t talk much, but ever since Enola came around, she made the day a whole lot better. She grew to be a friend to you, which was why you also already knew who the handsome ‘stranger’ next to her was. But you wouldn’t reveal it just yet, that would be creepy.

“This is my Brother, Sherlock.” Enola just smiled as she placed her pile of books on the counter as well.

“Nice to meet you,” the tall brunette smiled behind his glasses, soft curls falling into his face when he nodded toward you.

“Nice to meet you, too. I would ask if you found everything you were looking for, but I guess it’s even more than that...” You counted the books, sending Enola a warning look. You had gone through the trouble of sweet-talking Old Mrs. Thomson if Enola could be an exception to the ‘only six books for home’ rule once again. Trying one more would get you on dusting duty for at least three weeks.

Your eyes locked with Sherlocks. “Do you have a library card?” And then your attention was back to the register, typing away on the little blue display.

Sherlock couldn’t see what you were doing, but he knew he wanted your eyes back on him. He didn’t know why, there was something about you that made him all excited. “Why? Because you want to check me out?” Uh oh.

Your fingers stopped hacking away at the outdated machine and your eyes wandered back to him. A deep blush tinted his cheeks and ears pink as you tried to hold back the laugh pushing at your throat.

Sherlock wanted the earth to swallow him whole. Why had he just said that? What was wrong with him?

And while her brother desperately attempted to hide his shocked face, Enola just stood beside him, equally stunned. She hadn’t known it had gotten this bad. His constant isolation must have messed with his social competence somehow. Because whatever she was just witnessing, was beyond secondhand embarrassment. He made her job harder to bring the two of you together, and honestly, right now, Enola did not see a chance for her brother.

“Yes, yes he has. Here!” Enola ripped the card from her brother's pocket and handed it to you. You, who bit your lips to hide the smile creeping on your features and shook your head.

Sherlock didn’t say another word after that. Too embarrassed to ever talk again, really, he waited out the time until you were finished scanning all the books and his and Enola’s cards. Relief washed over him when you said your goodbyes.

“I'm making an exception this time, Enola. Mrs. Thomson must not know about this and you better bring all of these books back without a single mark,” you warned.

But Enola countered weakly, matted by her idiot brother destroying the best plan ever made. “When did I ever not?” Still, she tried a sneaky smile on her lips.

When the doors fell close behind them and the siblings walked along the sidewalk home, Enola shoved her brother harshly.

“Great job, you idiot. You just ruined your only chance at not becoming a weird and bitter old man.”

But Sherlock didn’t answer. He was well aware of the embarrassment he had just presented himself as in that library and in front of you. With his head hung low, he opened the top book in his arms to retrieve his library card, but when he moved the piece of plastic and revealed the check-out receipt, all of his sister’s bickering moved to the background.

There, beneath the date and time of his visit, was your number, scribbled in blue ink with a small heart by your name. He smiled to himself as he traced the number with his finger. And just then, Enola glanced over his shoulder to find out why he hadn't told her to shut up yet.

Who would have thought that you would be hooked after a line like that?

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