#i am being tormented by the lack of anything

[theactualsunshinechild]

*banging my fists against the wall helplessly, tears streaming down my face*

MY RAREPAIR STILL HASN'T INTERACTED AND AT THIS POINT I'M NOT SURE THEY EVER WILL

[mishwanders]

• Astarion Ancunín • Honey Whiskey •

Summary: Astarion’s been irritable due to the lack of blood. It’s time to give him a taste of something he’ll never forget.

A/N+ Warnings: I wanted to redo the prompt I did of Wesker drinking blood from the wrist with Astarion, but I wanted to make it hurt/comfort fluff because he deserves softness in his life. There’s blood drinking, but other than that, it’s safe for everyone. Written by Mishwanders - pls do not repost.

Things had not been easy on you and your companions when you stepped into the shroud of the Shadow-Cursed Lands. The air was thick, and heavy with death, the light was whisked away, save for the blessing of Isobel that protected the Last Light Inn and your party as you stepped through the fog.

However, the dreariness of it all was weighing heavily on the shoulders of your companions and even more so on the pale elf. Finding anything with blood was far and few between amidst the horrors that plagued the land. You noticed how he’d grown more irritable since your arrival to it. At first you had assumed that maybe he was missing the sun again, same as he had in the Underdark, but you began to notice the jars of blood in his tent had diminished quickly and that’s when it dawned on you -

He was starving.

Even after your first encounter with his sharp teeth, Astarion wasn’t one to ask for your blood, no matter how desperately he needed it. So, you took matters into your own hands and marched your way to his tent as soon as the comfort of night fell over your camp.

His eyes bounced, watching your every movement with their frantic motion, trying to figure out why you were approaching him with such determination. He attempted to stand up, but you protested, telling him to stay seated where he was. What in the hells was going on in your head?

You sat down on the stool beside the round table at his tent, gazing upon him as you rested your forearms on your knees. You leaned forward and asked, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

He was taken aback by the forwardness of the question and his mouth opened to protest, but he quickly shut it, sighing in resignation. “I am.”

He watched as you immediately began to roll up your right sleeve up to your elbow in response to his answer, hearing you beckon him closer. He tilted his head curiously, but did as you asked. He watched you as still as a gargoyle when you held out your wrist to him and simply requested that he’d have a drink.

The disbelief was written all over his face. You were offering yourself to him? It felt too good to be true. You must have wanted something. Surely you wouldn’t just give this away without there being something he had to give you in return.

He was of a mind to refuse, but the ache in his body and dry ash of his mouth were begging for some relief of his carnal torment. It was not just to crave, he needed it, and terribly so at that.

You held up your wrist to him again, nudging it forward. “It’s alright. I trust you not to drink me dry.”

He was still hesitant, even as his hands wrapped around the length of your arm. “What do you want from me in return?”

“Nothing. I care about you and I want to help.” You replied, “I don’t like seeing you starve.”

Your words hit him, you could see it in his astonished expression, the sad gleam in his ruby red eyes. Being cared about by others was still so foreign to him that he didn’t know how to respond.

You tilted your head with a soft reassuring smile. “You can drink from me or I could ask one of the others if you’re more comfortable with that. I could ask Gale - but I fear his blood might be a bit tainted by the weave.”

Astarion scrunched his nose in disgust at the mention of Gale’s blood. It did taste like bile after all. “No, no, I would much rather have yours. That’s if you don’t mind, of course.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m all yours. Well, my wrist, that is.” You chuckled.

Astarion hesitated once more as he brought your wrist close to his lips. They parted and you could see the gleam of the moonlight on his sharp fangs. He sunk his teeth into the thin flesh on your wrist, feeling the warmth of your blood drench his tongue, coating his throat as he began to drink. Your blood tasted like the sweetness of honey with the burn of whiskey. He wanted to consume more, get lost in the flavors of you and the gift you’d given him.

It was intoxicating, even more so to know that you had given it freely to him of your own volition, that it was not something that was forced, but out of genuine care for his well-being. Never in his entire life had he known it could be like this, that it could be and taste so sweet.

You sat there and watched, feeling the blood pull from your veins, past his lips, and into his body. You could feel his grip on your arm grow stronger as he drank, see the lines of his face and neck twitch with each desperate consumption of it. Your fingers curled along the edge of his jaw and cheek softly, small strokes of reassurance for him.

His eyes snapped open at the tender touches, at the sensation of your free hand brushing back his hair. He could see the soft smile playing on your lips as you gazed down at him and spoke to him Ik reassurance. “It’s alright, you can have more if you’d like.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he drank more, delving deeper into the taste. Gods, you were delectable, divine. Your blood was ambrosia for the undead and you were willingly giving it to him.

After all these years of suffering, he finally had someone who was willing to give themselves to him without seduction or temptation. He found someone who gave themselves to him because they cared about him and he was not about to give that up.

Astarion unlatched his teeth from your wrist, panting heavily as he tried to regain his sense of control again. He licked the dripping remains from your wrist and his lips before scrambling for a potion to hand you. It wasn’t enough to undo the blood loss, but it was enough to dull the pain.

You could see Astarion trembling where he sat, trying to regain his composure as the blood filled his body with strength and life anew. You moved off of the seat, settling onto the ground next to him. He looked down at you with the hint of worry lingering in his gaze. It wasn’t worry for himself, but rather worry for you and your well-being.

Astarion felt one of your arms wrap around him holding him closer to you while the other gently cupped his face. Your thumb gently caressed his cheek, stroking it tenderly. He didn’t know how to react to the care you were constantly showing him.

You smiled up at him and he could see the gleam of the moonlight in your eyes. “See, I knew I could trust you.”

He leaned into your hand, letting out a sigh of relief. “You are full of surprises.”

“Maybe, but how I feel about you shouldn’t come as any surprise.” You replied. “I care about you, and I will always care about you, even to the end of time.”

Astarion felt your words pulling at him again. Your care would never completely undo the damage that had been done to him, but it was a start. He was like a budding seedling that had begun to sprout up from the darkness of the earth, reaching out towards the light of your warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, burying his head in your shoulder with a simple and soft reply.

“Thank you.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, I wanna know if you take requests? If you do, I would like I comfort Blade please, where he comforts reader who constantly regrets and blames themselves for everything, even the pettiest things

Blade knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, especially not when it came to you and your tendencies to blame yourself for things that you had little to no control over.

You even blamed yourself for the smallest things and he hates it because someone, somewhere must’ve messed with you so badly to the point where you couldn’t go a single day without blaming yourself for something minute.

If Blade were to ever come across that person, he’d make them pay for what they did to you tenfold. But until then he would go out of his way to comfort you and reassure you that you’re not as much of a fuck up as you’ve lead yourself to believe.

Which leads us to the moment where Blade found you in your room, sat upon your bed, silently sobbing into your hands and just generally looking distraught.

He sighs and walks into your room, his heavy footsteps causing you to freeze and become hyperaware of the fact that your moment of vulnerability has been had witnessed by another person, and just as he then makes himself comfortable on the bed next to you he asks. ‘What’s wrong? Why the waterworks?’ The way the words left his mouth some would consider uncharacteristic of him, but then again what did they know about him that wasn’t something that was rehashed on the news.

You shrug, sniffling as you wiped the tears from your eyes aggressively with the sleeve of your shirt. ‘Just reminding myself of how much of a fuck up I am compared to everyone else.’ You admitted with a weak laugh as though what you just said was something to laugh at, but Blade wasn’t laughing, just looking at you with his deadpan face.

You chuckled humourlessly as you fisted your jeans to disguise your internal torment. ‘I don’t expect you to understand because unlike me, you don’t make mistakes.’ You added apathetically and Blade knew this train of thought shouldn’t be allowed to continue, for it was ruining you right before his eyes and he hated it. ‘And what makes you think that you’re a so called fuck up?’ Blade said. ‘Because to me you’re anything other then a fuck up, yes we all make mistakes, but that shouldn’t warrant you torturing yourself over it day in day out when everyone else has all but forgotten.’ He concludes.

‘I can’t do anything right. Not a single thing.’ You began. ‘I can’t socialise with other people like I’m suppose to-‘

‘I’ve seen you socialise and I think you do it just fine.’ Blade interrupts. ‘You held an hour long conversation with both a Halovian and a Foxian without stopping. So that’s obviously false.’

‘I can’t talk without them commenting on the fact that I speak as though I’m in the middle of a sentence.’ You rebutted.

Blade shrugs. ‘Everyone’s a judgemental hypocrite, it’s best to remember that all sentient beings are born with equal parts flaws as they are perfections.’ He then tips your chin up to look at him in the eyes. ‘There’s no such thing as an entirely perfect person because if there was, they’d be the most flawed out of all of us, for they lack the ability to recognise their own imperfections in the same way they recognise everyone else’s.’

‘I can’t tie my shoes perfectly without them coming undone five minutes later.’ You then said.

‘There’s a majority of people who just can’t tie their shoes no matter what, whether it be from trauma or otherwise but you don’t see them shaming themselves for it.’ Blade responded, trying to make you see that for every mistake you made wasn’t something you should take as personally as you have, however it feels as though the more he tries to make you see reason it only heightens your need to prove to him that you were indeed a fuck up.

So just be for you were about to say something else that you were an apparent fuck up about, Blade pulled you against him and held you there as he soothingly rubs his hand up and down your back, rendering you speechless. ‘I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on trying to prove that you’re a fuck up.’ Blade began as he felt you begin to relax under his touch. ‘You’re not and I will keep telling you this for as long as you need me to because you don’t deserve to beat yourself up over everything like you’re meant to be perfect at it. I don’t know who told you that you had to be perfect at everything first try, but it’s a load of fucking bullshit and I need you to realise that.’

‘But-‘ you tried to pull yourself away from his grasp, thinking that you weren’t deserving of being comforted, especially when that comfort came from Balde of all people. For you honestly didn’t believe that he would put up with you and your mistakes at all, it wasn’t fair on him; However Blade thinks it was unfair on you to think that even putting on a mismatched pair of socks was entirely your fault and should constantly be reminded of it for the rest of the week.

‘No.’ Blade stopped you before you could start. ‘You’re not meant to get everything right. Practice makes perfect is a saying for a reason because it doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make, you always get better with each attempt.’ He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes for what he says next. ‘You make mistakes, you fail, you fall but do you know what I want you to do when you feel the desire to blame yourself and avoid trying again?’

‘What?’ You asked meekly as you gripped onto him tightly.

‘Get back up.’ He said, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘Get back up and try again, try as many times as you need until you’ve mastered it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, nobody’s asking that of you, it just has to be what you’re happiest with. Don’t reduce your self worth to what others think of you and don’t let the voices in here,’ Blade then gently taps a finger to your temple, ‘dictate your self worth either. Okay?’

‘I’ll try.’ You whispered, smiling softly at him as you allowed for Blade’s words of wisdom sink in rather than fight them off.

Blade smiles back as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’ He says against your skin, happy that you were ready to take a chance on yourself.

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

Noirceur | JJK | Main Part

Pairing: demon! Jungkook x fem! human! Reader

Summary: A kiss. A curse. A tangled fate. A dark soul. His love breaks your fate, your bond cures his death. And a poetic dance that he traps you in, along with your own song that only he can hear. A story told wrong or in which Jungkook finds his lover after swimming through centuries of lost time and cursed minds.

Warnings: fluff?, angst, demon! Jungkook, black swan! Jungkook because I'm obsessed, toxic love, soft yandere?, obsession, implied kidnapping, dark fantasy, magic, curses, spells, blood, minor injuries, anxiety and feelings related to it, non-con kissing, kinda creepy, mentions of death, poetic writing, (let me know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 3.1k words

A/N: I wrote this one in one sitting O.O, let me know what you think in the comments, darlings! Also, who else is obsessed with Black Swan Jungkook? Because I certainly am and this fic was inspired by the music video and my own ideas :D.

ALSO, this au is open for further parts if you request anything, darling! My inbox is open, lovelies xxx. This story will go how you like and I'll link all the parts into a Main Masterlist when something is requested for this story.

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

Noirceur: (noun). The state of being pitch black in colour; a state of lacking illumination.

The stories you have heard all your life were true. You didn't doubt it anymore.

From purity to evil. From light to the darkest night. A loneliness that turned into love, it morphed into an obsession. A claymation of a life, a soul. A being. A heart.

In the depths of hell where shadows writhe,

A demon walks, his heart alive.

His eyes, twin flames, burn with desire,

To find a soul, his dark empire.

The legend had changed, because Jungkook did not live in hell. His empire was situated over this very Earth. He had searched for centuries for that part of him, that part of him that was still alive. That part of his heart that was still beating and that should not fear him. That soulmate that was given to him by fate itself. That soulmate he wanted to claim. That lover he needed to possess.

He felt it when you entered the abandoned castle of arts, the large opera house where he had died many moons ago. He could no longer remember how he stopped being in the land of the living but he had never come across another one of his kind.

He was cursed. To live forever and torment the unfortunate souls of this world. He was cursed. To be alone in his long time punishment. He was cursed, his heart burned to ashes and his power rose from the depths of the earth.

But since you came across his path, Jungkook's punishment became a game for him to play. A game for you to endure.

You had been running endlessly through the infinite halls of the large opera house. Your naked feet were painted in crimson red as they bled with every step you took. You ran, passing through many hallways with many paintings hanging on the walls. You ran and ran, a soft music in the background made the hairs at the back of your neck stand up with nerves, with fear.

Footsteps were heard behind you. Those footsteps that had been chasing you for so long you could no longer remember when was the last time you had actually been outside of this abandoned castle of arts that was now your prison in hell.

"Come out, little dove. I only want to play."

You bit your lip as the words reached your ears. Those words that dripped from the mouth of your captor. The man who chased you to the end of the world, however you doubted he was actually a man.

You hid behind some curtains worn out by time itself. Your hands clenched the fabric of the dirty dress that was only enough to cover your dignity. It made you shiver. From the cold, from the fear. Maybe both, maybe neither.

"(y/n), (y/n). Dearest, (y/n)...STOP HIDING!"

You flinched when his voice boomed around the place you didn't doubt had once been beautiful. Blood oozed from the bite your teeth inflicted over your tender lip and you sniffled, hearing the footstep halt before they began echoing around once more, this time coming closer to you.

Through realms of terror, he roams the night,

Seeking a heart to claim as his right.

A soulmate bound by fate's cruel hand,

To join him in the demon's land.

In fear, you ran once more. As if you could ever leave his poisonous claws. As if you were able to leave that hideous place that played with your mind, with your soul, with your heart and memories as if they were toys at his reach. For him to use as he pleased. 

Curtains hung from the tall ceiling that once had a beautiful pattern painted on it. It made you feel lost. As if you were running in circles. Always lost. With nowhere to go. As if you had ever had a choice. Or better said, as if your choice had been willingly taken by you. 

Because there had once been a choice. A choice you made. A decision you chose. You entered that place by your own will yet your freedom in leaving was never yours to be held in the first place. It made you sick to the stomach, as if a storm was closing in on you and there was no way out of it. No sun ripping through the curtains, no wind blowing the clouds away. 

Jungkook could hear your frantic breathing, your hurried footsteps and suppressed sobs. He could hear your beating heart resonating so strongly in his ears it only sent a chill down his spine at the chase.

He remembered the sweet scent that suddenly invaded his own prison the moment you entered the large opera house. For only the kiss of his soulmate would free him from the shackles of fate, only the purity of the heart would be able to set him free and roam the world as he pleased.

In whispers cold, his voice does call,

A siren's song, a chilling thrall.

He seeks a soul as dark as he,

To walk with him, for eternity.

"Don't you know that I love you, sweet (y/n)? Why do you run from your lover, hmm? If you come to me willingly, it will hurt way less, love."

You ran and ran, ignoring the pain in your feet, the pressure in your chest, the harsh beating of your heart. You weren't going to give up that easily. You weren't going to surrender without fighting back.

The hallways carried so many paintings on the walls. So many paintings of beautiful women. Pictures that you couldn't pay enough attention to. Paintings that resembled absolute fear and sorrow, something you didn't know but felt utterly familiar.

You stopped running when you made it to the main theatre as you stood on the old stage. The wooden beneath your feet was dusted with the remnants of time, broken glass was scattered along the dark wood from the frail chandelier that hung from the ceiling with its crystals tainted in greying dust.

The pain in your feet was ignored as you walked across the stage. You didn't hear Jungkook's maniac laugh, you didn't hear his approaching footsteps or his sick declarations of love. Of obsession. Yet the silence made you even more nervous. You didn't know where you were, you didn't know what day it was. Time had become a foreign concept for you, a thing your mind could no longer grasp.

How long had you been trapped in that hauntingly beautiful place? Has it been hours, days... months? Did people search for you? How about Taehyung, the man who sent you to that place to begin with? Was he wondering why you never came back to work? Was he wondering if you were still working on the story of the broken opera house to publish in his extravagant magazine? Did he even remember your presence or did he keep you around because you never questioned his orders and demands?

But there was no use in blaming others for your current situation because there was nothing to be done. You walked in an almost monotonous way to the centre of the stage, blood staining the ground below your feet as more and more cuts opened your precious skin.

Jungkook watched you from behind the curtains, he watched you wander around the open space. He watched you with haunted eyes glimmering in golden magic that cursed through his veins. He watched you with desire and delicacy. As if you had been crafted into a perfect doll for him to care when all his hands had ever done was to destroy and taint.

Your tears adorned your face like small diamonds over your soft looking skin. He wanted to wipe them and treasure such pearls of pain and fear within him. Your hands trembled as you gazed around you, eyes fixing on the fallen glass on the ground, the broken chandelier that hung from the ceiling and that seemed to snap at any moment, the crusty wood beneath your feet and the old paintings of women around the grand place.

"You don't have to run anymore, little dove."

Beneath the moon's unholy light,

He searches for his love in fright.

Through haunted woods and cursed moors,

His longing heart forever lures.

With a choke gasp you turned around, watching as Jungkook emerged from the back of the stage, the curtains giving him an aura that made you shiver. He took a step forward and you took a step backward. The need to keep as much distance between the being that kept you in his grasp and your own sanity was stronger than your actual fear of him.

"I have waited centuries to finally meet you."

His words only made more tears roll down your cheeks, eyes red and puffy as you glared at him in fear. You took a step as he approached you once more.

"Please..."

Your sweet voice enchanted him like a curse. Desiring to hear you speak once more, he remained silent and listened, taking another step towards you and instinctively you took once back.

"...please, let me go. I p-promise I won't tell anyone about what happened h-here today. I'll never come back and disturb you but, please-"

He laughed, a sound so harmonious it echoes around the empty opera house. You found it alluring, like a siren's song but you had to physically refrain yourself from falling into his arms.

"Do you really think I'll let you go after searching for you through so many lifetimes? You are mine, little dove. Forever mine."

Jungkook smiled, ever so sweetly you felt sick. A smile that got engraved in your memories forever. You shook your head but couldn't look away, taking another step back as he insisted on getting close to you.

"Look around you, love! Look around you and deny me that we aren't meant to be! We are destined, little dove. Tangled by fate. Look! Look around, (y/n)!"

And you did, not hesitating to follow his command with the force in his voice that made you suppress a sob. You looked around, eyes landing on one of the many paintings of the large room. One of the paintings that decorated the dull walls. The paintings that were old and worn out by time. Your eyes widened when you saw it. When you witnessed that the demon in front of you spoke nothing but fact. A sudden realisation dawned upon you and you felt as if you were drowning in a well with nothing to hold on to and nothing to hope for.

Because the lady on the painting cried tears of blood, the lady on the painting resembles your soul. Those were your hands, fisting the fabric of your dress in a deathly grip. Those were your tears rolling down your cheeks. The woman in the picture was the reflection of your soul trapped in a timeless mirror of blood.

"You see now? This whole castle of arts is our sanctuary. Our palace, Queen of mine."

You shook your head, in shock, in rejection. In fear. In anguish. You shook your head as you took step after step backwards even when he wasn't doing anything to get close to you.

Was your fate really next to him? Were you really tangled in such a web of lies you weren't able to escape? Or was he just playing with your mind?

"Stop it, (y/n)."

Jungkook spoke in alarm as he saw you getting closer and closer to the edge of the stage. But you didn't listen, your mind acted on its own in a fragile attempt at getting you away from this nightmare you had fallen into.

"Stop it!"

"Get away from me!"

Your scream resonated all over the place, your feet didn't stop moving until you stood at the edge. The height was enough to hurt you and the sole idea of it made him feel his heart beating, at least for a second or two as you stood on the edge while you faced him with shock written all over your beautiful features.

You took another step and a gasp escaped your lips as the floor disappeared from beneath you. Your eyes closed in instinct and your arms flailed as gravity pulled you down towards the hard ground covered in broken glass that was surely going to break you.

Jungkook acted in an instance, his eyes glowed in golden yellow as his large and black wings spread behind his back and he moved across the stage in less than a second, a path of ice was left behind him, freezing the ground below him, the curtains around the stage and his heart as well as he caught you in his arms before you were to succumb to nature's own force.

But in his quest, he leaves a trail,

Of fear and anguish, deathly pale.

For those who cross his path beware,

The demon's love is naught but despair.

Your eyes met his in a dance of emotions that made you dizzy in its nature. His hands found home on your waist just as your own rested on his forearms. His eyes, ever so beautiful, hid so many secrets you felt curious about yet you wished to remain in the darkness as well.

"I won't leave you. Not after burning in my own grief with your absence. You are the key to my existence, love"

His words pierced your soul like a sharp dagger. You sniffled, breathing in deeply as you found yourself gazing into his golden irises.

"You'll never leave my side."

One of his hands left your waist as it cradled your cheek softly. His touch burned you with an ice cold feeling it made you shiver in his arms whether from the coldness itself or fear of your current position, you really couldn't tell.

"You will learn to love me, (y/n). Just like I have loved you all this time. You'll learn."

Jungkook never broke eye contact with you as he allowed himself to swim in your (e/c) gaze. Your skin under his palm felt soft, the softest he has ever touched in both his lives as a mortal and as a demon of death.

You gulped, wanting to run away from him. Disgusted at his unwanted touch but strangely craving it more. As if you had been deprived of it for so long. Maybe your soul has. Maybe it was your soul that missed him, that missed that other part that was to complete your existence yet your heart and mind rejected that very own idea.

His eyes glowed once more, his wings extending behind him as he looked down at you with his golden eyes that prevented you from looking away. You found yourself enthralled by his magic, his powers and strength.

Your rigid body relaxed in his arms and he suppressed the growing smirk that threatened to appear over his lips. For he had captivated your mind in a glowy golden trance that would allow his freedom.

Jungkook leaned forward and he found no resistance from you so he continued until his lips met yours. His spell had worked over your mind even when your heart was beating wildly against your chest.

He kissed you and golden magic radiated from him. He kissed you and the chains of fate released him. He kissed you and was now a free demon, free to roam the Earth as he pleased. Free to do whatever his heart wanted for as long as you stayed next to him.

He escaped his own jail, that castle of arts was no longer his prison but was now his palace with you as his Queen of darkness.

He kissed you and he tainted you. His golden magic erupted from the very depths of his soul and enveloped you both as he was crowned as the king of darkness, with you as his precious queen.

Forever and always.

For all times to come.

For all lifetimes to last.

And you'll learn to love him, maybe not as much as he loved you. But you'll learn. Eventually. Why shouldn't a Queen love her King? Why wouldn't you love him when he gave you the world to your feet? Why wouldn't you love him when your souls were tangled?

Jungkook would wait. Wait until you'd love him completely, wholeheartedly. Absolutely and undoubtedly. For you were the reason for his black soul and now beating heart. A heart that only beats for you and you alone. His Queen of Darkness.

And when he broke the kiss and your body grew limp in his hold, he carried you in his arms, his wings extended and he flew. He flew to the skies with your body in his hold. He flew away to a place no other mortal knew about. His own palace. His own hell. His kingdom. That place where his home was, that place he’ll share with you. 

Because Jungkook had waited centuries for you to finally find your way to him. He’d wait more if it meant you’ll love him in the end. Another lifetime felt like nothing if he knew you would give him your heart with your very own hands as you wore your crown of darkness, matching with his and ruling his kingdom of evil. 

What was heaven compared to your love? What was light compared to your heart in the night? What was obedience compared to the sins of his own mind? Did it matter? No. It never did. And now that you were finally his to love and cherish for eternity, he could burn the world down for you to smile at him ever so softly and delicately, like an elegant rose with deathly thorns. Like a true queen of his domain. 

His Queen. 

So if you hear his haunting cry,

Beneath the starless, moonless sky,

Beware his love, a twisted fate,

For in his arms, darkness awaits.

January/19/2024

~Masterlist

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[mariariley]

Reaching out

Simon Riley x reader

2nd person

feminine terms such as: sweetheart, love, girl

reader is Simon’s s/o

WARNING: eating disorder

Word count: 1k

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

Food makes me sick and gives me fear that I will ruin my body. I feel guilt every time I eat. My appetite keeps getting worse. I’m writing this on the behalf of all people out there who are struggling with the same problem hence I’m writing in 2nd person. I chose Simon for this because he represents great comfort for me.

Additional inspiration by @saintship 🖤

Every time he lays his eyes on you it seems as if you’re getting thinner. Every time he holds you he fears he’s going to snap you in half. Your wrists and ankles appear thinner as your cheeks are starting to stick to your teeth, exposing your paper cutting cheekbones. The color of your skin had a lack of necessary vitamins and minerals written all over it.

When he’d trace his hand over your back he could count every vertebra in your spine, as well as you ribs. When he’d kiss your collarbones he’d notice how unnervingly exposed they’ve gotten.

He’d notice how you’d try to hide it with wearing his clothes more often.

You wouldn’t talk to him. You wouldn’t tell him anything. You didn’t want to be a burden.

“‘ere ya go, luv.” he said as he served your favorite mug filled with warm tea he’s just made, sitting his heavy body at the kitchen table diagonally from you.

You thanked him quietly as your sleepy body was still trying to adapt to the gloomy morning you had to face. His casual black t-shirt that you often sleep in protecting your tormented body from the light cool breeze of the slightly open window behind you.

“Look at me, luv.” his voice dipped in a barrel with “serious” written all over it.

You wouldn’t lift your heavy head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“Sweethear’, please, look at me.” he adjusted in his seat, leaning closer to you with his elbows on his knees. His gloved hands and a gently ticking watch around his wrist that would fill in the gaps of silence meeting your bowed gaze.

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“Y/N.” your name being coated by his raspy voice coming from his smoker cords and rough accent from suburban Manchester made your empty stomach ache even more. His tone calm though. As if he was trying not to scare a hopeless wounded animal sitting before him.

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“I am many things but oblivious is not one of ‘em. You need to talk to me, luv. You need to tell me what’s bothering you.” he said as you’d feel his gaze piercing through you.

“There’s nothing wrong with reaching out, luv, you know that?”

You wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

“You need to eat. You cannot live with a cuppa and a single biscuit hoping those liters and liters of water you’ve been drinking day after day will ease the hunger.” the amount of reality he was pouring into your brain was almost making your tears come out of your stomach instead of your eyes.

But you wouldn’t lift your head. You wouldn’t speak. You’d just keep drinking your tea.

Which would slam a thick nail into his stone cold heart.

“Listen to me carefully now. There’s two sandwiches in the fridge, ham and peanut butter jelly. You will have a glass of milk with that. For lunch I’ve made the British classic, fish and chips. We will ignore the fact I am not capable of making anything else.” he threw a little joke in there which pulled your lips into a tiny smile and made your gaze finally lift up.

Your sweet eyes met his. You couldn’t see the smile of relief under his mask but his cheeks lightly scrunching underneath his eyes was telling you enough.

“That’s my good gal.” he said before his tall broad figure with a dark aura stood in front of you, looking down at you.

“I will be back before six. I don’t want to see a single crumb on the plates when I get back. Do I make myself clear, soldier?” so he wouldn’t make it sound hoarse and aggressive, he made it entertaining for you.

“Copy loud and clear, lieutenant.” finally he got feedback from you.

“Good.” he said as he leaned to plant a soft kiss on your temple, placing his hand on the back of your head. He was looking down at you for a couple of seconds filled with comforting silence. All that you could hear is his loud inhales that were coming through the dark fabric of his mask. All that you could feel is his hand soothingly stroking your head.

“You willingly did all this for me…?” you asked.

“Shhh. Don’t speak.” he said almost through a whisper before he lifted his mask merely to reveal his mouth. He slowly leaned and planted a petal soft yet long kiss onto your forehead as he closed his heavy eye lids.

You thickly swallowed the urge to burst into tears on his lightly equipped gear he prepared for today’s short mission. Your mouth danced along with your eyebrows as a singular tear tickled its way down your cheek and along your jawline before Simon’s glove caught it.

He gently lifted your head farther up by the chin, holding painful yet soothing eye contact.

“Promise me you will do it.”

“Simon, I-“

“Promise me.”

“I will…” you said as a deep sharp breath scratched your lungs.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“I promise.”

“That’s my sweet gal. You know how to make me proud, don’t you?” he kept tickling your heart with praises and encouragement as he very carefully tucked some of your hair behind your ear.

The last thing you felt was a gentle stroke of his bare thumb on your cheek as the rest of his gloved hand nicely warmed it up.

“Can you buy me those chocolate chip cookies I like on your way back? And some gummies perhaps…” your voice toned down with each word you’d barely muster.

What you said made a light chuckle escape Simon’s chest as the sound of his heavy boots thumping on the old creaking floor was making its way to the front door.

“Duly noted.” was the last thing you heard from him before the sound of the heavy door closing greeted him out, pulling the air from the window and making it whistle its way across your mug as the herb scented steam danced along.

Dividers belong to @firefly-graphics 🖤

[yelenasfloppyhand]

Spencer reid x gn!reader

Summary: Spencer is struggling with his addiction after being kidnapped by Tobias Hankel.

Warnings: indirect mentions of drug use and brief mentions of ptsd.

You had never imagined yourself here, pleading with Spencer Reid to open up to you. You knew of his discomfort with expressing emotions and being vulnerable around others, and you respected his boundaries. But now, Spencer’s concerns were the least of your worries. You felt guilty that you hadn't paid attention to the signs sooner. His mood swings, the dark purple bags under his bright eyes, his normally full of life gaze, now dull and lifeless.

But that was to be expected, right? Everyone had been there to witness Spencer's abduction, but it seemed that they decided to walk away as soon as he began to destroy himself. Perhaps it was a lack of care, but you liked to try and tell yourself that it was just that they couldn't stand to watch the young genius slowly kill himself.

"Spence..."

You take a moment to compose yourself, a steady breath and determined resolve pushing back against the weight of your trembling voice and misty eyes. You blink back tears that are dangerously close to falling.

"I know you think people don't care, but we do. I don't want to watch you destroy yourself anymore."

You turn your head to the side, determined not to let any tears fall. As you look back, Spencer looks particularly vulnerable this time, more so than you've seen in months. His gaze carries a hint of glassiness in his beautiful eyes, and his lips quiver as though he might speak, but he struggles to keep himself together. He almost appears to you like a little boy this moment, the sight almost enough to melt your heart.

"I know that at first it felt good, great even, you felt like you'd found a solution for the pain, a way to numb it to make it bearable... but then it stopped working, so you thought you'd up the dosage a little so it would have the same effect it did the first time, then you realised that you couldn't go more than a few hours without it, because after a while the feelings came back. I... I can't say I know how you feel because I don't, but I have seen what addiction does to people spence. And I am terrified, I am paralyzed by the though of you doing this to yourself. I know it's selfish to ask this but please! For me, stop."

There have been countless situations where you had to plead desperately with unruly culprits to give up their weapons and release their innocent captives. However, they were a walk in the park compared to begging the love of your life to surrender the very thing that was slowly killing him whilst simultaneously allowing him to stay afloat in the rampant storm of his thoughts.

"I’m struggling." The words barely escape his lips, almost a whisper as he keeps a stoic exterior. Yet, as he tugs at the sleeve of his blazer, you notice the subtle signs of inner torment. His body language says it all. He's barely holding himself together in this random hotel room, trying his best not to burst into tears.

"It's okay, it's okay to struggle. It's okay to ask for help. Please, let me help you." You beg, your voice laced with desperation as you make the request. You really, truly mean it; you've never felt as impassioned as you do right now about anything else in your life.

Note: this was just a super quick little one shot? (Can I even call it that?) I just wanted to share it because I love writing as well as Spencer Reid. I just wanted to say that if anyone is struggling with addiction of any kind that you are not alone, and that asking for help is the bravest thing you can do, it doesn't make you weak for wanting to get better.

[leggerefiore]

May i request a NSFW drabble about Larry having some lustful thoughts?

Like, the reader is a young woman [waitress or trainer whatever you want] he just met and he didn't realize how you affected his work. These lustful thoughts couldn't leave his head and confronted to you about it. You confessed you liked him and he wants you and the NSFW part starts.

also, you said drabble, and I didn't. I am sorry, lol.

cw: 18+ content, fem reader, oral, minors DNI, Older Man/Younger Woman,

Tease

Larry wanted to pretend he was some kind of bland, boring automaton who just lived to his day to day. No will or ambition of his own, just doing whatever he could for his next pay cheque. That sadly was not the case. He was a man. A man a bit past his prime, but a man nonetheless. Nothing would have happened had the Treasure Eatery not taken on a new waitress. One that was simply too friendly towards him.

Your bright smile upon seeing him enter the restaurant was nothing but torment. He sat at the counter, yet you always seemed to be the one to greet him. Dinner service was even more tormenting when he added a beer in to settle his nerves after being bombarded with seemingly endless tasks by his boss. You hung around him more than you should, he knew. Your manager would shoot you looks, but you seemed unbothered as you offered him another round of whatever he ordered. He hated to think about what all the extra beef bowls he had been consuming would do when it finally caught up to him.

The salaryman found himself unable to say no when you spoke so sweetly, eyes seemingly piercing him worse than Geeta or Rika's worst glares.

Then, it started.

The fantasies.

He was beyond this kind of thing. Far, far beyond this kind of thing, and yet…

Larry grumbled at the fantasy haunting him. The uniform skirt you wore was suddenly much shorter than it was in actuality, and his eyes would drift as you served another table near him. His eyes drifted to your thighs as he swallowed down the bitter flavour of the alcohol and tried to focus his mind. That you would shoot him a smug, knowing grin. It was a form of torment you forced the poor man through. It continued on and on throughout dinner service until he ended up pressing you against a table, and the fantasy would end.

He did not dare let his mind wander farther. You did not deserve such a thing, and he should be ashamed. Someone like you deserved better than some destitute old man like himself. And he was beyond doing things like that. It was shameful.

He still knew that he needed to take a moment to relieve himself, though.

Larry planned to work past this. It would be easier in concept than execution, he knew, but he decided to start that evening when he entered for dinner. You smiled up at him from your booth, gathering up a towel and about to lead him to a table when he steeled himself.

“I think… I need a different server, I apologise,” he kept his disinterested look as he shook his head. It was truly nothing against your service, but if he wanted to keep his sanity. You seemed hurt by his words but repressed whatever you wanted to react with and nodded. Another server was assigned to him. They were just as good as you, but he could see you sneaking glances at him throughout his meal. He readied himself to go yet felt his arm caught by you as he tried to step out the door.

There were barely any customers left, and it appeared that you had clocked out from your shift if your lack of uniform was anything to go by. Your eyes were big. He felt stricken. Somehow, he held the door open for you and allowed you both to leave together. Medali's usually bustling streets seemed desolate as the later evening drew to an end and night truly began. There was not much of a night-life around the area.

Somehow, you both drifted together towards the amphitheatre of the town. Larry sat at your side, staring forward silently. You were in a similar state. A cool wind blew through the area, making you shudder. His eyes narrowed. This needed to end soon.

“... What is wrong?” he finally asked, breaking the impenetrable silence between you both. A shaky breath was sucked in by you.

“I like you, Larry,” you said plainly in reply, turning to meet his eyes. Your cheeks were flustered, whether from the confession or the cold, he did not know. His brain froze mid-thought, either way. You… You what? He had his assumptions, but… You just boldly told him it. He blinked in surprise a few times. “I thought you were interested, too,” you sighed, eyes darting away from his own.

He was – He absolutely was, but… Your expression. Larry felt embarrassed. This felt like something he would have seen back during his university days, but those were so far behind him.

“I am,” he nodded, “But are you certain about this? You don't need to waste your time on someone like me.” Your gaze instantly was back on him. There was something fierce in your eyes. Your hands cupping his face and going in for a kiss drew out even more surprise. No words were uttered. Instead, your hands held tightly onto his suit jacket to keep him in place. The affection caught him even more off-guard.

When you pulled back, your gaze was determined. “I know what I want,” you said simply, tugging on his sky-print tie, “And I want you.”

“... You know,” he cocked up a brow, “You're tempting with how you bend over in that skirt, right? I don't want high blood pressure added to my plate.”

That smug grin from his fantasies played across your lips.

He could tell he was in for a night.

~

Larry was truly not sure what he should have expected after that.

You laid underneath him, sprawled out against the sheets, as he pushed your skirt up. His mind was surging with too many thoughts as he gazed at your panties for far too long. Your top was half unbuttoned, like his own, both your coats haphazardly on the floor already. Your hands tried to reach for his belt. He pulled back to quickly undo it himself and pull down his slacks. He felt too consumed by his clothing. You clearly felt similarly by how you shrugged off your shirt and slid down your skirt.

You grinned at him playful as you pulled him back to the bed. Your hand went down into his underwear and began to pump his half-hard cock. He took a few uneven breaths at the unexpected move. His underwear were soon slid down, too, leaving him bare to your eyes. A grin came across your lips again, but he chose to ignore and instead focus on the pleasure.

How long had it been since he had sex? He did not even know any more.

Your hand pulled away after he was fully erect. His lidded eyes gazed at you as you laid back against the sheets. For it being your first time in his home, you had seemed to make yourself quite at home. He sighed as he hooked his thumbs into your panties and pulled them down. His eyes almost went wide at the sight of your pussy. It really had been too long. A giggle came from you as he parted your lower lips and just stared forward.

For a moment, even he had no clue what he was doing until he leaned in. You shuddered at the feeling of his hot breath on you before he leaned in and gave a careful lick. Then, he latched onto your clit. A moan echoed out from you as he carefully sucked and circled it with his tongue. He felt your thighs pressed to his head – the very same thighs that had tempted him. A groan escaped him, vibrating against you and eliciting more pleasure. He slowly shifted his attention down, circling your entrance a few times and lavishing the juices that were beginning to spill out from you. Your flavour was among some of his top tastes, he noted.

Before he could press his tongue inside you, your hand came down to tug at his hair. You stared down at him while sucking in some panting breaths. He pulled back. “Please,” you whined, “I've been waiting too long, Larry.” You held out the ending syllable of his name a bit. An unconscious chuckle left him. This desperation from you had been unexpected, but he could not say he did not like it. A similar feeling was inside him. He was about to ask you needed to be prepared, but you seemed to have read his mind. “Look, I'm ready.”

With that, he found himself hovering over you. His dick pressed itself to your entrance tentatively as he felt unsure if to start. You seemed to take the initiative by locking a leg around his waist and pressing down. A moan left Larry as he entered you. The feeling of your walls surrounding him overtook his mind as he pushed deeper and deeper. You let out a groan yourself at the feeling. When he bottomed out, he stayed still for a moment, still a bit hesitant about hurting you.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as you bucked up against him encouragingly. He got the message and began to pull back out of you until just the tip of his dick remained. Then, he thrust back in and was gifted with a moan from you. The sound sunk into his ears as he began to find him fucking into you at a steady pace. His mind felt sluggish to his actions, just focusing on your reactions and the pleasure surging through him. The feeling of your walls pulsating around him felt maddening in his overworked mind. His body felt exhausted, yet he just kept going throughout it all.

Your hold on him only got tighter as his dick hit that bundle of nerves inside you just right. Another moan left you at the bliss. Larry took note and began to target it to the best of his ability, enjoying your nails digging into his back even through his shirt. Everything seemed to get more and more intense as his angle of thrust seemed to have his dick rub against your clit just right. Your toes curled. It would not be too long until everything bled together as the coil in your stomach spun tighter and tighter.

Hearing more and more of Larry's quiet sounds of pleasure and his dick hitting your cervix seemed to let the madness succumb over you. A loud cry left you as your walls clamped down on the poor salaryman's dick. Larry let out his own noise at the feeling, only making a few more thrusts before he pulled out and came across your bare stomach. You seemed too lost in the orgasmic bliss to make a comment. Larry rolled over to catch his breath and lie down for a moment.

~

After you both came down from your highs, Larry got up and offered you a wet wash cloth to wipe away the cum. You took him up on it. His eyes darted to you as he debated what the hell had happened. He still had work in the morning. Geeta would not accept this an excuse. You laid back against the pillow after aiming the wash cloth into his laundry basket.

“… Your stamina isn't the best, huh?” you teased him.

“It happens when you get older,” Larry did not miss a beat.

“Mhm… Sure,” you cuddled up to him, “Be my Larr-bear?”

He did not have the energy to keep up with you and just accepted his fate of being your “Larr-bear.”

[archiveikemen]

'Villain Wants To Bother The Little Robin' Story Event: Chapter 1

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight Route

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

Victor: Kate… will you play the role of Her Majesty the Queen?

Kate: … It’s for a mission, right? Please tell me the details.

Victor: Ahh, what a quick response! You’ve grown so much as a fairytale writer, I… I…!

Victor: Emotional moment aside, you’re right, it’s for a mission.

Victor: An American ambassador is coming for a visit. According to our intel, there is word that he is planning an assassination attempt.

Kate: That’s a very serious issue… and therefore, I will be a stand-in for Her Majesty?

Victor: Yes. Jude and Ellis will be your bodyguards.

Kate: Why the two of them specifically…?

(Apart from Ellis, I don't think Jude would want to be “my bodyguard”.)

Victor: They’re experienced in handling violent situations. Should the ambassador carry out the assassination attempt, I believe they will be able to deal with it well!

(... They do seem capable of handling such situations smoothly…)

Kate: What exactly should I do as Her Majesty?

Victor: You will be receiving gifts, and have dinner at the evening banquet.

Victor: Basically, you only have to graciously accept the gifts presented to you.

Victor: The ministers will be present as well, so it’s OK for you to leave the complicated conversations to them.

Kate: Simply put, I just have to dress as Her Majesty and sit there… am I right to say that?

Victor: Yes! Her Majesty prefers to be quiet, so it’ll be alright if you remain silent.

Victor: Your voice sounds different from Her Majesty’s, which might raise suspicion. The two of them will follow up accordingly.

Victor: I understand that asking you to be a decoy is a difficult request… but you’re the only person who understands the situation enough to do so.

Victor: Will you accept the task?

(This proves that he trusts me as a fairytale writer. Moreover, Her Majesty's life is at stake here.)

Kate: Yes, I’ll do my best.

(Jude is a sadist who finds joy in tormenting others.)

(If I become indebted to him, there’s no knowing what he’ll demand for as payment. I can't afford any slip ups.)

(Ellis is kind and will do anything to make other people happy, but…)

(Because he will really do “anything”, I have to be careful so that he won't go overboard.)

(At any rate, in order to ensure that this mission will be successful without any troubles, I shall focus only on being a stand-in for Her Majesty.)

Kate: Victor, could you tell me more about Her Majesty's mannerisms? Such as her habits or anything that makes her unique.

Victor: …

Victor: Of course. I’ll tell you as much as I can.

After receiving some acting tips from Victor, I holed myself up in the library.

I wanted to learn a little bit about the royal family, the names and faces of the ministers, and the history of America and England…

…

(In the end, it feels like the more I study, the more overwhelmed I feel about my lack of knowledge. It made me feel more hopeless…)

I wore a crown, a veil that covered my face up to my chin, a pair of shoes to disguise my height, and an elegant gown.

I was already feeling defeated.

Jude: You fell asleep in the library, commoner.

Ellis: I’m glad you didn't catch a cold.

Kate: …!

Jude and Ellis stood on either side of me, laughing as if they had read my mind.

Kate: By any chance, was it… the two of you who covered me with a blanket?

Ellis: Yeah. Because you looked cold.

Kate: Thanks, Ellis.

Ellis: Jude pushed you back upright when you were about to slip off the table… with his knee.

Jude: That was because you were a hindrance.

Kate: Kicking a sleeping lady…

Jude: Calling some kid who played sleeping beauty in the library a “lady”? Don’t make me laugh.

Jude: You must’ve been working that little commoner brain of yours in your own way. How great.

Ellis: Mm-hmm. You’re studying hard to pull off pretending to be Her Majesty. You’re very great.

The former was entirely sarcasm, while the latter was a genuine and innocent compliment.

My facial muscles were confused about what facial expression to make.

(A- Anyway…)

Kate: I’ll be under your care for the next two days.

Jude: Decoy means someone who’s willing to die in another person’s place. Long story short, it’ll cost you your life.

Jude: … As long as the assassins are dealt with, it doesn't matter even if you die. Peace of cake.

Ellis: Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.

Ellis: I’m no good at politics and diplomacy… but I’m good at sensing when there are knives and bullets coming my way.

Ellis: I’ll do my best to support you so won’t have a hard time.

Kate: I… I’ll do my best too.

If Jude were something that’s tongue burning spicy, then Ellis would be sweet as sugar.

Being stuck in between time gave my heart no time to calm down.

(I wonder how Ellis is working for Jude.)

(Even though Jude isn’t the type of person to let people come close to him, he always has Ellis by his side.)

I remembered hearing that they worked together because of a contract.

(What on earth does that contract entail…?)

Jude: A commoner posing as the Queen will be easily exposed and gotten rid off.

Kate: Will Jude be able to do well as the Queen’s bodyguard with that sort of attitude and manner of speech?

Ellis: Jude is surprisingly capable of proper behaviour in public.

Jude: You might not know this, but this guy is crazy.

Kate: In what way…?

Ellis: Who knows? :)

Jude: You’ll find out soon enough.

(Are you saying that Ellis is no better at being a bodyguard than you? … Seems to me that it's the other way around.)

Ellis: … Hey, Jude, Kate.

Jude: Ah?

Kate: Yes?

Ellis: I have a suggestion—

Ellis: Let’s make a deal whereby if we succeed in this mission without having our identities exposed, we’ll fulfil one request from each other… what do you think?

(Fulfil each other's requests after completing the mission?)

Jude: What’s with that meaningless suggestion?

Ellis: I’m thinking of how to make this mission more enjoyable for Kate.

Ellis: What do you think…?

(So that’s what Ellis is thinking…)

I realised that since this morning, I had been unknowingly weighed down by the burden of wearing the crown.

(... Ellis is really good at telling how someone is feeling.)

Kate: Thank you, Ellis. We’ll do that!

Ellis: Fufu, then it’s decided.

(... Hm? But I heard him say “each other”...)

(I’ll have to grant requests from Jude and Ellis…)

Jude: … Just endure it as much as possible. I’ll be watching you make a fool of yourself while thinking of what “request” I’ll make you fulfil.

Ellis: Me too, I’ll be… thinking about what “request” will make you happy.

Seeing the two very different smiles, my facial muscles were once again unsure about what facial expression to make.

...

Chamberlain: The ambassador from America, Abel Edmund, has arrived.

The chamberlain loudly announced the ambassador's arrival, and the door to the audience hall opened slowly.

(... It’s happening.)

Jude and Ellis stood on guard behind me.

“Why did Her Majesty choose to be guarded by two unknown men, instead of the royal guards?” When I first entered the hall, I could hear the ministers whispering amongst themselves, however…

(Just one glare from Jude made their complaining cease immediately.)

(When Ellis smiled at them, the number of insolent stares decreased as well.)

(With the two of them around, my life will definitely not be in danger… it’ll be alright.)

I straightened my back and lifted my chin, fixing my posture according to what I learnt from Victor.

(I must focus on maintaining a regal attitude while acting as Her Majesty in front of the ambassador.)

Abel: I am greatly honoured to have been given the privilege of an audience with Your Majesty!

The ambassador was a man with teeth that glimmered in the light, and a smile as bright as the sun.

(Wow… he’s more frank than I thought.)

Maintaining my majesty, I nodded silently in response to his greeting.

Ellis: He looks lively.

Jude: Even if he keeps quiet, his face makes a heck lot of noise.

(P- Please don’t make me laugh!)

The point-blank commentary coming from the two of them standing behind me clearly stated their impressions of him.

Abel enthusiastically presented the various items he had brought with him as tribute.

(Even with a veil on, these items are dazzling…)

Once again, I felt overwhelmed by Her Majesty's power and influence as proven by the extravagance of the treasures gifted to her.

Abel: We have here an extremely rare avian species boasting feathers with vibrant colours. Its beauty is further enhanced by the magnificent sight of its outstretched wings.

Abel took a large bird resembling a parrot from its cage,

Abel: Please, have a look— ah!?

The parrot suddenly lifted its head and flew out of Abel’s hand.

(It’s coming this way!?)

Jude • Ellis: —!

[quicktosimp]

Save an Ilu, Ride a Na'vi

Kinkmas Day 05

Warnings: Sex on an Ilu, Fingering, Alien Genitala, Enemies to Lovers (Kinda), Aonung Sucks at Emotions, Aonung Redeems Himself, Anxious Reader, Panic Attacks

A/N: I have never written this before, and it was an amazing experience thank you @neteyamsyawntu 💕

Dividers by @cafekitsune

“Come in, Forest Girl, you’re going to learn how to ride an ilu whether you like it or not,” Ao’nung’s gruff voice demanded.

I winced, and my ears folded back, knowing he was already angry today. We were separated into groups because of how volatile Aonung got with my brothers: those that Aonung could tolerate and those he couldn’t. As of right now, I am the only one in his group, this being due to the fact that I can’t tell him no. Confrontation makes me panic; I can’t even react. I just stay quiet and hope they go away. Back in Omatikaya, my brothers would stop anything from happening, and no one was stupid enough to mess with Kiri. But once we came to Awa'atlu, Aonung and his goons had it out for my family. We tried to keep the peace, but it ended in several fistfights, especially when Aonung realized that I wouldn’t fight back. This caused even more fights, and now, none of the boys are allowed around each other. To make it up to me, Aonung has to teach me how to ride an ilu. I think this is more of a punishment for me, but I couldn’t tell Tonowari that when he was already irritated at his son and my brothers.

It didn’t help when Dad tore my brothers a new one for getting into a fight while praising me for “keeping the peace,” which only infuriated them; Lo’ak tried to explain that I was scared of them only to be shut down by Dad. Neteyam attempted to get Dad to understand but wasn’t interested in listening to him either. Leaving me here, trapped with my tormenter until I learn to ride an ilu.

“Before eclipse, freak,” he snarled, stalking into the water, his tail swishing angrily.

I scurry after him now, wanting to make him any angrier. It always surprises me how warm the water is, not icy like the lakes and rivers back home. I easily wade into the water well past my waist as Aonung continues deeper, calling the ilu. The joyful creatures pop out of the water, swimming eagerly to Aonung as I stood back waiting. The ilu was already harnessed, ready to ride, as I stared at it nervously.

“Get on,” Aonung’s words were short as he held the ilu in place.

I timidly walked over onto the other side of the ilu, trying to put as much space between Aonung and I. I grabbed onto the harness and lifted myself on. I grasped onto the handle in front of me as my panic started to set in. Back home, I had never been able to complete my Iknimaya, too terrified of fighting the ikran, and even though I am not fighting an ilu, the same panic is there. My chest felt heavy, and breathing was becoming difficult. Each breath was short as my skin became clammy. I knew I had to make tsaheylu in order to learn to ride, but I couldn’t let go of the harness, my hands stuck in a shaky iron grip. 

“Oi, you need to make the bond,” Aonung reminded crossly.

I attempt to let go with one hand, only for nausea to crawl its way up my throat. I grip back on even tighter as a whimper tears from my throat. My vision became blurry. I'm not sure if it's from the lack of oxygen or from tears. Am I crying?

“What in Eywa’s name is wrong with you?” Aonung demanded.

I attempted to speak, but all that came out was choked-off breaths as my body trembled even harder.

“Oh fuck me,” I hear Aonung mutter under his breath.

The next thing I knew, his hands were on my waist; Aonung easily picked me up and held me close and away from the ilu.

“There, now calm down, and let's figure out how we can fix this,” I hear him mutter, his voice barely sounding over the waves in my head.

Once the ilu was long gone, I was able to start calming down. The fading adrenalin left me shaky and weak. As my vision cleared, I first noticed my grip on Aonung’s biceps, my nails digging in, creating crescents on his arm. I lessened my grip and let go, not wanting to hurt him. The second thing was that Aonung hadn’t let me go. The water here was just below my chin, yet he held onto me like I was well above my head. Almost protective?

“What in Eywa’s name was that about? You looked like the ilu was an akula,” Aonung asked, what sounded like concern.

“Bad experience,” I managed to mutter out; my throat still felt like there was a lump in it.

“Bad experience, my ass, it’s more than that, and I can’t teach you if you don’t tell me,” He snarked, but his arms were still firmly wrapped around my waist. 

I shakily sighed, “A couple of years ago, Lo’ak attempted his iknimaya, and to complete it, he must form tsaheylu with an ikran,” I swallowed the lump in my throat as tears came to my eyes, “It went fine in the beginning, but when he got on his ikran, it rolled him, sending Lo’ak off a cliff. It wasn’t good. I had to watch as my brother's broken body struggled to heal, as he couldn’t wake up,” Tears poured out of my eyes, and I couldn’t stop talking, “After Lo’ak healed, we could never talk about it, and then dad made Lo’ak do it again the following year, despite our Tsahìk saying he needed another year to heal fully. Lo’ak managed to do it, but it reopened several wounds, and he had to be taken off duty for months. I was the one who took care of him since the beginning of it all, but I can’t get the images of Lo’ak’s body at the bottom of the cliff.” I finished as sobs raked through me.

Warmth was pressed against my cheek; looking up, I noticed it was Aonung’s chest. His extensive tattoo was underneath my cheek. He was hugging me. 

“You are terrified of many creatures now; that is not your fault. This should have been explained to us before bringing you out here,” his large palm rubbed up and down my back soothingly; he paused before abruptly asking, “Is that why you were sleeping when your family arrived? You panicked like I just watched until you lost consciousness?” Aonung’s voice was panicked as he asked.

I nod my head, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Well fuck that, that’s not going to happen again. I’m going to make a new plan, and the first part is you’re going to talk with my mom. She is experienced with these traumas and will teach you different techniques to work through them. She is also a great listener when she needs to be, and only when she says it’s good will I work with her and you to teach you how to ride an ilu,” Aonung explained firmly.

Confused, I looked up at him, “Why are you doing so much for me?” I asked, confused.

His face turned lavender as he looked away from me, “I’m your teacher; it’s my job,” And he left it at that.

Many moons go by. I’ve worked with Ronal, and while I was too timid to say literally anything to her at first, she is now the first person I wish to talk to, well, besides Aonung. The months have brought us close, and after a while, we even started to court. Before that, I expected that he would apologize to my siblings, but instead, he did more. He apologized to my siblings and brought many gifts of jewelry, food, and weapons; he even explained everything to my dad, leaving him with no excuse to accept that my brothers weren't in the wrong. It seemed that everything was going well, even the ilu training. It started with simply being around them and progressed as I got more comfortable around them. Now, here I am about to do a joint ride with Aonung; he will make the bond with the ilu, and I will ride in front of him. Easing the pressure off of me. 

“Are you ready, Sumtsyìp?” Aonung asks me from atop the ilu, his hand reaching out for me.

I hesitantly grab his hand, and Aonung lifts me so I am sitting in front of him. I start to feel a bit of panic before I notice my ass firmly nestled next to his slit. I try to ignore it since we are here to ride the ilu, but thoughts keep coming into my head.

“You remember the breathing exercises I taught you?” Aonung asks.

“I remember,” I responded distractedly.

Aonung’s arm wraps around me firmly, “Alright, then, let’s go.”

With that, I took a deep breath, and we submerged. The lack of air panicked me at first, wanting to take another breath, but I was unable to. But it wasn’t long after that we emerged up top. I quickly took a breath before we dived again. This went on for a bit until, when I looked back, Awa'atlu was long in the past. I continued to take deep breaths as I examined my surroundings. Nothing but open sea could be seen. I pressed myself close to Aonung when I felt my chest start to become heavy.

“You did so good, Sumtsyìp. I am so proud of you!” Aonung exclaimed as he picked me up and turned me around. 

Now sitting chest to chest with Aonung, I can see the joy on his face as he litters my face with kisses. I can’t stop the giggles that flow from my lips. As Aonung kisses my face, I start to squirm from the ticklish sensations. Causing our slits to grind against each other, even with tewng in the way it sent pleasure radiating through our bodies.

“You can’t do that, Sumtsyìp,” Aonung gasped as he gripped onto my hips. 

I look up at him, my tail twitching playfully along his arm, “Why not?” I ask, tilting my head to the side and wrapping my legs around his waist.

His eyes dilate in response before he latches his lips onto mine, kissing me passionately. I moan into the kiss and lean in, wrapping my arms around his neck and tangling my fingers into his hair.

Aonung pulls away briefly, “Oh fuck, you’re going to be the death of me,” Before nipping my bottom lip, pulling on it before releasing it and licking the seam of my lips. 

I open my mouth for him, and his tongue slips in, coming to play with my own. Our tongues dance together as I grind my slit into his, becoming irritated by the feel of my tewng. Almost as if he could read my mind, one of Aonung’s hands travels down to my tail, uniting the straps starting there to free me from my tewng. Unable to leave it be, the moment Aonung’s fingers skimmed the base of my tail, he gabbed on and tugged. I arched into his touch as a moan was ripped from my lungs. My slit has started to open, and slick is leaking out of it. Aonung continued to play with my tail, pulling and caressing it as I continued to grind into him; each tug brought a sharp pleasure that I couldn’t ignore, and I needed more from Aonung. Backing away from his lips, a long string of saliva connects our mouths. 

“Please, Nung,” I beg, widening my cat-like eyes at him. 

Aonung rests his forehead on mine, staring into my eye as his fingers creep closer to my slit, “You have been such a good girl for me. You deserve a reward, don’t you, Sumtsyìp?” It may have been worded as a question, but it was a fact to him.

Slowly Aonung trails his finger up and down my slit, gathering the slick that has already escaped from me, gently urging me open for his fingers. Slowly, he sinks in one finger down to the knuckle. My inner tendrils wrapped around his finger, trying to draw it in more.

“You’re greedy today, aren’t you? Making yourself all wet for me, drawing me in, just to use my finger for your own pleasure. But that’s all I am here for, to serve you,” Aonung groans into my ear. 

I whimper at his words, my core throbbing in need as the heat travels through my body. As I went to reply, he slowly removed his finger, each of my inner tendrils fighting to stay wrapped around his digit, but slowly losing the battle and releasing, but continued to follow him until they could no longer reach him. When just the tip of Aonung’s finger was left inside, he pushed it back in, slowly fucking me with one finger as he did it over and over again, bringing me a slow-burning pleasure.

“Aonung! Please, stop teasing!” I pled with him, the slow pace maddening me.

A throaty chuckle vibrated Aonung’s chest, “Are you eager, Sumtsyìp? Does your greedy slit need more attention? Is one finger not enough for you? You’re lucky you’ve been so good. This behavior won’t be accepted any other time,” He says into my ear as he pushes in another finger.

The stretch was glorious as the two digits worked simultaneously. His fingers twisted and slicked inside me, spreading me further, and my inner tendrils followed his fingers, knowing that it would bring them more pleasure. I start to hump his fingers, needing more than this slow pace, and finally, his fingers curled inside me. I gasp as stars cross my vision, the pleasure shocking me from top to bottom, taking my breath away in response.

“Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung, Nung,” I chanted, the only thing that I could think of. 

“Such a good girl, saying my name like that. Now tell me, who makes you feel good?”

“Nung!” I responded.

Aonung’s fingers curled deeper this time, “Good girl, now tell me, who touces this slit?”

“Nung, Nung does,” I whine as the pleasure builds.

This time, he twisted his hand, pulling on my inner tendrils, and a squeal left my lips.

“Good girl, now, one more question. Who owns this slit?” Aonung hiss out.

My heels dig into Aonung’s back as I try to anchor myself, “You, Aonung! You own my slit!” I shouted into the open air.

The hand that was holding onto my hip moved to my tail, tugging on the base as he flexed and pulled his fingers inside me. The scream that felt my lips was feral and roar as my vision whited out. My toes flexed as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through me, and my fingers scratched at his shoulders, leaving marks that would last for days.

“Nung, Nung, Nung,” I chant as I continue to cum, his fingers never ceasing their work.

“Did so good, Sumtsyìp. You came on my fingers perfectly. Such a good girl for me,” Aonung whispered as he slowly started to remove his fingers once my orgasm finished. 

Despite my brain being fuzzy, I knew that Aonung didn’t cum. I slowly reach my hand down to his tewng, wanting to return the favor, only for Aonung to grab my hand and pull it away gently.

“No, Sumtsyìp, this was your reward. This was all about you. Next time you can help, Yawne,” Aonung explained softly.

I wanted to argue but found that I was too fucked out to do so. Instead, I relaxed into his hold as we started the much slower journey home, thinking of all the ways I could return the favor.

[buckybarnesss]

Where did this idea that Chris Argent is the one Argent who cares about the code come from? He's just as bad as his wife, who wants to murder Scott for existing.

I feel like I have a completely different understanding of this that everyone else does. I like him BECAUSE he's a weak-willed jellyfish of a man. He follows orders, there's not much kindness left in him and it's only directed at his daughter. He's a liar who enjoys tormenting teenagers - he was willing to kill Derek and Scott even though he knew they hadn't killed anyone.

The entire point of the Argents is this corrupt family structure. "Women are leaders" they say, as they lie and gaslight Allison. "We don't kill innocents" they say, while shooting Derek and Scott for being outside at night.

How many times did they get it wrong and kill humans? We'll never know because of course they would just cover up the evidence. They were taking potshots at Scott and Derek and didn't even know WHO they were shooting at.

Literally none of them follow the code. They manipulated Allison into setting it aside. The code is bullshit.

"Chris would never torture innocents" bro what show were you watching, you think he didn't know Kate was sexually assaulting and electrocuting Derek?? He didn't seem that fucking surprised to see Erica and Boyd in his goddamn murder basement.

I feel like I am going crazy!!

you are so right.

what do i think of chris argent?

chris argent is compelling to me because he's not really that good of a person. he has deluded himself into thinking he is.

the indoctrination amongst hunters runs very, very deep. especially with the argents. he never fully becomes deprogrammed. gerard argent deeply damaged both of his children and that is the point. there is no happy ending for the argent family.

kate was gerard's golden child because kate was full tilt sociopathic and enjoyed killing. chris was the lesser of the two in gerard's eyes. we know that while chris did gerard's biding he hadn't been in contact with allison since she was three years old at the time of kate's "death". that tells you chris knew his father's influence was dangerous and corrupting. yet he still let it happen and watched allison be manipulated by his father and become like kate.

three children ended up in his murder and torture basement and the only one i can see him not fully knowing about is stiles because that was gerard's little game. he knew about erica and boyd, he knew what was being done to them and he allowed it. they hadn't done anything to anyone and again they were children. the same age as his daughter. her own classmates. trussed up in his basement.

his intimidates stiles, scott, jackson and derek more than once. people who hadn't done anything wrong. scott, jackson and stiles are all children.

chris also knew full well who and what kate was. he was in denial about it and ignored it. chris isn't a stupid man and i thought it was pretty clear throughout season 1 he had suspicions about kate so he's not even surprised when confronted about it code breaker. he's just disappointed.

he clings to the code because it gives him cover. it gives him a convenient excuse. he can wrap himself up in the code and declare himself a good hunter, not like the others, not like his father and sister when he is. the code is his self-delusion.

he changes because allison died and his code becomes the memory of his daughter. his shitty family and his lack of backbone led down a path that eventually led to her death.

yes allison's decision that night was her own but it was also reckless. why was the archer on the ground? why wasn't she high up like she'd been wise enough to do in frayed or in alpha pact? allison was desperate not only to save lydia but also to prove herself good and make up for her mistakes.

and even when he begins to change it's often conditional.

chris is an interesting character. i like him a lot actually but he's a fucked up person who makes many questionable decisions thought-out the series. he only looks good because gerard and kate are more terrible.

[tralalalalally]

Some sketches of headcanons for Maedhros' body-type, tattoos, and scars.

I will give a warning for talk on poor mental and physical health before my notes:

. His body-type in particular is something he specifically works for - before Thangorodrim I think he had the more stereotypical elf-prince body (his mother-name is "well-formed", yes?) - something classically desireable. After his capture, the mix of starvation and hard physical labour made him unhealthily lean. After being rescued he was able to build up body fat again, but instead of regaining his old body he works for this new one. Something undeniably strong, untouchable, a warriors body further exaggerated. Not only does he want to distance himself from the perfection of the old him, he wants to make sure noone looking at him could see him as weak. I doubt he'd remember at least the first few months after his rescue well, but from what he does, he feels ashamed. Hiding, cowing away in fear like a child, striking out at those trying to help, revealing far too much of his trauma from the enemy. Emotion becomes a weakness to him, and he learns to control that, but then as he heals further he seeks control over his body too. I think he might eventually see himself - both body and soul - like a project similar to the construction and ruling of Himring. Especially I imagine a disconnect from his body - it is something to be built up, made strong and impenetrable, anything to not be harmed and tormented again.

. The most important scars for my headcanon (other than his missing hand of course) are the brand on his shoulder and the whip marks on his back. The brand effects him the most, and is something he covers as much as possible. None would know about it other than Findekano, Makalaure, and a few healers. Unfortunately due to it being raised, it cannot be tattooed over (nor do I think he'd be able to sit through any tattoos). I am thinking of designing some type of clothing that would essentially be part of his underwear, something that would keep it covered as often as possible - goes over the shoulder, wrapping around his body to beneath the right arm pit?

For the whip scars - when first brought to Thangorodrim he would sometimes be put to work with the other thralls. This was meant to be demoralising, the thralls seeing their prince/king reduced to this, and to show Maedhros how much had been taken from him. Of course the scars healed poorly and were often infected (I think with the brand, it may have been purposefully aggravated to make the scarring worse), though due to his positioning he got enough medical care to keep him alive. Now that he is free they still give him trouble - mobility issues from ones that cut into muscle, and the scarring itself makes the flesh stiff and less flexible. There is also a lack of feeling for most of the area.

. Tattoos - I honestly don't have any real sure designs or positioning fro them. My main thought was the vision of a tattoo of the 8 pointed star, broken up and faded due to scarring caused at Thangorodrim. You can still tell what the tattoo is of, but it has undeniably been damaged. I think I'd like to design for him a large back tattoo - star of Feanor in the middle, with other references surrounding it. Then, of course, the whip scars on top.

(Ah, and for body hair: I imagine elves can grow it, just usually not as thick. I think I remember reading that some can grow beards in old age? (As with Cirdan), so why not the same for body hair lol. I mean, humans also only get most after puberty)

[belit0]

HI! :3 could i request itachi with number 1? please and thank you <3

1)Itachi: Keep moaning my name like that.

Of course! Here you go, darling!

Nobody knows how to touch her as he does, nobody who can match the trace of his fingers on every corner of her skin, nobody who knows where to lick and where not to lick, where to press and where not to press, what she likes and what she dislikes.

Itachi has an understanding of her flesh even she lacks, feeling vulnerable under his hands and utterly fragile, surrendered to his touches and caresses, to his decisions and pleasures.

He taught her how to love herself, how to touch herself, and how to feel pleasure without the need for explicit contact. The Uchiha showed her how to make love with or without clothes, how to appreciate her body and understand the value of her skin, the drops of beauty in every nook and cranny of it.

"Keep moaning my name like that, you're beautiful doing it." He whispers in her ear as he touches her gently. His strokes are usually slow, painfully slow, and he only turns up the intensity when he feels (Y/N) has earned it.

"Ta-a-achi please..."

"No begging (Y/N), not yet. You're such a good girl, keep it up." His digits gently caress her clit, so softly it felt like he wasn't even touching her. He makes her sit up against him, his chest against her back and not allowing her to see his face.

Secretly, he can't bear to look into her eyes as he plays with her, quickly giving in every time he hears her plead for what she wants. (Y/N) is his weakness, his priority, and he can't deny her anything. If she wants something, he will always give it to her, no matter what it is.

"Itachi... a little harder... please!" She squirms in his arms, trying to generate more pressure against his digits and get what she wants. He hesitates for a moment and doesn't know whether to follow her request or not. Part of him wants to hear her beg, and the other to run and comply with her demands like a faithful dog.

He decides to go with his Uchiha side, and keep her on the edge of stimulation, making her suffer a little. His fingertips gently brush against her pussy while his other arm wraps around her stomach, restraining her body and preventing her from pressing herself against him.

"Ask for it like the beautiful, good girl you are, and maybe I'll think about it."

"Please.... Itachi! Please touch me as I deserve!"

"Huh... so you deserve it? Did I hear right?"

"Yes-s! Ple-ease!"

Satisfied with the result, and happy because (Y/N) can appreciate she’s worthy of everything she desires, he begins the real work. He will not rest until his beloved understands her personal value and can see how much she means to the world and to him, how important she is in his life, and how wonderful of a person she is.

He torments her until she acknowledges being worthy of pleasure, love, affection, and everything she can think of. His methods may not be the most traditional, but they do the trick.

His fingers increase the pressure on her cunt and the speed intensifies, lashing out at a good pace that has (Y/N) moaning within seconds. She slumps against his chest for support, holding the back of his neck with one hand and his wrist with the other. She likes to accompany his hand as he plays with her, following his movements closely and trying to control them. Every time she tries to take a dominant position on his arm, Itachi stops and doesn't start again until she gives in.

"Tell me who the most beautiful woman is, and your pussy will get what it so desperately wants."

"Don't make me say that, please..."

"I guess someone doesn't want to cum."

His hand pulls back, and he prevents her from turning to look at him with the arm holding her by the stomach. (Y/N) struggles against his grip for a few seconds until she realizes fighting won't get her anywhere, if she genuinely wants to finish, she has to play his game.

"I am the most beautiful! Please Itachi! Let me cum!"

As she utters and moans his name it sends an electric current straight to his cock, and the Uchiha knows even he himself won't be able to take much more. His fingers resume their work, lifting a steady, fast rhythm, touching exactly where they should.

The woman relaxes back into his arms, moaning slackly and surrendering herself completely to Itachi's mercy. Nothing matters as she falls through the abyss of her orgasm, shuddering in his grip and closing her legs to avoid further stimulation.

"You’ll have to be much more obedient if you don’t want to fight for your orgasms, (Y/N)."

[androgynousblackbox]

Welcome to Hazbin Vale. 9 [Radioapple, Appleradio]

"Mmm? Oh right, I still have to do this.

I mean, good morning, dear friends! How are you all waking up today? Refreshed up? With a load of new energy to carry and face a new day? I truly hope so, because a day like no other is exactly what we are going to get.

But don't let me too ahead of myself. As any cooker know, you must let the food simmer for a bit, to cook on it's own juices, before hastly just gorging it out like a pag. And here, in Hazbin Vale, if there is anything that we have is class. Manners. Patience.

We have waited for so long, dear listener. We can take it as calmly as it comes.

Last night I am sure some of you noticed a distinctive lack of moon and stars on the cloudless sky. And if you didn't, well, now you know!

If any of you had ever bothered to pay more attention to it, then you would have also realized that stars systematically have been falling from the sky for a while now, one by one. It was actually quite an impressive view, but my, my, everyone is so busy right now that nobody was outside admiring the espectacle.

Truly a pity. When the end comes, the least you could do is watch.

I saw it all from here the entire night. I didn't want to risk it. As it turns out, desk of studios make for a horrible bed! Who knew!

But I am told to tell you all to not worry at all. Carry on as usual. The sun just looks bigger than normal and less warm because of some astronomic mambo jambo nonsense I do not care at all, so you shouldn't either. What we have above our heads, dear listeners, and also right under our feets, is so beyond our understanding that sometimes we should avoid questioning it at all.

The cemetery and community center are from today both open. Everything is out in the open now. There is absolutely no place to hide. You might satiate your insatiable curiosities to your heart's content all that you like without any concern. If you are ever so lucky, you might find that a nice surprise that will make it quick for you.

Interpretate that as nasty as you want if that will make you stop being a stain on the surfice of the earth, listener.

The cave on the outskirt of town has finally cave in. Oh, we do have to admire how much it managed to stay as it was for, well, for even longer than I have been alive. That is quite impressive. Let's give an applause for the rocks that gave a valiant fight, the broken beer bottles and the blood shed as a result.

I told you all that could happen, didn't I? I just happened to pass by while seeing some hungry raccoon trying to get themselves a bite before the police arrive. Somehow a hand was sticking out from under the rocks and it was still moving! The human body is truly a wonderous mystery. Just the amount of abuse and torment that it can withstand is enough to make a man smile.

It didn't last long, of course. Raccoon will make sure of that and you know what they say: the fresher, the better! But a good effort nonetheless.

I have also been informed that our transmission of today will last for as long as it needs to be. That's right, as far any of my dear beloved listener is out there left to listen, we will keep transmitting to your satisfaction and joy.

Don't try to turn off your radios. It won't work.

The only time we went out of schedule like this was when the kindergarten burned down after that teacher was killed by an ex boyfriend. Do you all remember that? So many people screaming all around made it difficult to speak, but it was a fun moment all the same. The one and only time that we used the portable equipment to be right on the scene and report you the last updates. Don't you miss it sometimes, dear listener, when things were a lot more simpler?

Oh, but no disaster of that nature is what is happening today. Of course not. Today is a normal and common day like any other. Don't pay attention to the sun, that must have gotten bigger since the last time I talked about it. Suns do funny things like that sometimes, everyone knows that!

Ah, but I am afraid that we won't be getting any guest or calls for today. I had Niffty ripping the phone line off after… certain someone tried to call in. I am sure they would say that they were just trying to solicit some song or something like that, but no matter, nobody can do that now! It's just Niffty and me here on the good old studio for the entire day, and Niffty has gone up to her attick again so it's only just me!

A one man show. As it was always supposed to be. And aren't we all lucky that man is me?

I just have some curiosity left, listener. Do you feel that anything is different at all? Did those teenagers that were looking to hang out in the cave? Did they felt like a peak on the electricity in the air, some kind of static that puts all the nerves on high alert for the potential danger that it can't even behind to fanthom? Or was it just the sound of one rock falling to the ground, after another, before everything else was on top of them?

The only thing I lament is not being able to ask them. Not even the owner of that solitary hand would have been able to say anything, not with a broken jaw like that. Not that I saw their mangled body or anything. I was, and I always am, nothing but a respectable model citizen so I just took a look and made my way straight here, to do what was asked of me.

You are welcome, by the way.

There is a window here, did I ever mentioned that? I can't imagine in what context that would have come out, but regardless, there is. It offers a lovely view of the main street that goes to the end of town, right before the hallway opens up to empty wastelands in direction to the next civilization. I can see everyone who comes out or comes in if I wanted to.

I usually keep the curtains extended over it because, let's face it, outside of the rare crash or manslaughter of those who didn't looked both ways before crossing the street, not a lot of interest to be had there. Been good at road safety has always been one of the few flaws of this town, sadly.

Up until now it has been rather peaceful. Not a lot of people who were planning to go out to the nearby town to maybe visit grandma on her birthday or were planing to go pick their stranged daughter at the airport. But I hope it will pick up at some point in the morning. The day is young and we have so much time to enjoy it to it's last second.

The sky getting slighty darker might give you a wrong impression of the time, though. But rest assured, your watches still works perfectly fine. The only issue is that I can't see the sun from here. This building cast a long shadow from this window.

Has it started to smile yet? If not, don't worry about it. There is nothing to concern yourself with. It's when the eyes open that it's truly interesting part begins.

Oops, I wasn't supposed to say that, ha ha! Spoiler! My bad. Please ignore it as you go about your normal and completely irrelevant day.

Let's instead just remember how wonderful and great our town is. We used to be a great tourist center, a convenient space between other cities for people to stop by on their way. One where people find joy watching our huge ball of yarn, that it was mostly filled with styrofoam and twig before yarn ever came into the equation.

We had that adorable bowling alley with the greasiest pizza anyone could eat with it's own karaoke on the side. The businesses were thriving. There was so much things to look at and play with back then. Our young weren't constantly leaving to look for bigger opportunities elsewhere, only to waste years of education in careers they are never going to take.

But things change, don't they? They get stagnant with enough time. They become boring. Predictable. And that might be the biggest tragedy of it all. What is life, I ask of you, dear listener, if not a constant symphony of screams all in perpetual crescendo until it's dying end? How else a man is supposed to know that they aren't truly dead yet without it?

There is just no end to this. This is all your life has been and all everything will ever meet you as. For some weaker minds this can be frightening, paralyzing even. They let themselves become part of the scenary, another potted plant on the corner that does what it supposed to do, because I guess that is easier than take control of their own lives.

For others, this might be just the push they need to finally learn a few new tricks. So you study and you work and exchange words with the right people, others who also refuse to just let the monotony kill them silently.

And what if you have to step on a few toes? It's not your fault that they didn't wise out before. And what if some of those toes fall out or get crushed like mashed potatoes under your feet? That at least is something new.

And the new starts are always so exciting, dear listener.

Your journey begins where it was supposed to end. That is an exhilitaring thought not many get to have.

If life won't give you lemons or oranges or apples or anything at all, then you carve into the ground with your own bare hands until you find something, covered in mud and your own blood from the nails that are ripping apart from your skin. You grip it as tight as you can despite the pain, despite the burning sensation that is chipping at the soul you didn't know you had, and won't let go until you make it your own.

You let it grab onto you and take what it needs to survive. You feed it, you protect it, you do whatever is necesary so none of you ever gets forgotten again. You form bonds you never expected to make before becuase it's either that or come back to how things were before, to the sad, dull, predictable nature that you had to escape from.

They promise you that you will always have an ally on your side even if this chapter ends. No matter in what new book are you thrown into or how much you change, that constant hand on your shoulder will never abandon you to remind you of where you come from and where you still have yet to go. It will follow you more loyally and closer than your own shadow ever could, even in total darkness.

The only thing that it ask in return is that you keep it well fed for as long as you exist. The bottom of it's stomach is neverending like outerspace itself and, let's be honest, you are never going to fill it. Which basically garantees that you will always have a new beginning to find more food. You will always a new playground to have fun with even if you already burned down the previous one. Completely consequences free. The only thing remaining being your own memories of it and you can fill it with as many screams as you want.

Doesn't that sound just ideal, dear listener? Who wouldn't shake hands with a promise such as that one?

Ah, but for now, I will leave you for a moment with the weather. I have to take a look outside, I can't resist the curiosity anymore.

See you soon."

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Trimax Thoughts Vol. 10 Pt. 1

Stream of consciousness again. Here goes (I say with a lot of trepidation even though I have a sinking feeling I already know what's going to happen)

Coming back to edit the beginning here to, ah... inform you all that this pretty quickly devolved into a record of my complete mental breakdown. So, uh, idk, maybe this will be actually somewhat funny to read, especially for those of you who knew what was coming. My tears will be your balm for this week. Maybe.

I don't know how to verbalize this but there's something about this image I really like compositionally. There's something about it that evokes a kind of bittersweet peace. It just really sets a tone for what I'm pretty sure I know is to come. I am not ready.

"It's 'specially because of times like these that an idiot like him plays an important role. He's doin' somethin' extraordinary. He believes." <- so so so very true! A light in the dark is not just rebellious, it's necessary. He's allowing himself to hope, not because he suddenly believes as strongly as Vash in the world at large (he's still far from that) but because he believes in Vash himself.

Fuck right off Chapel.

He's literally being impaled by a cross. There's. Something to read in that but I'm sorry I know nothing about Catholicism/Christianity...

"obsessive sense of attachment" <- so long as his disciples do as he molds them to do. in that sense, it's a little reminiscent of Knives' desperation to keep Vash with him and his quick anger when Vash does not behave the way he expects him to, but it also kind of makes Chapel the anti-Wolfwood, in a way. The true lack of hope, the way he would apparently do just about anything for his child disciples, but only out of a sense of them being easier to mold/manipulate, rather than Wolfwood's genuine love for the kids at the orphanage, and the compassion he's shown downtrodden kids in general. Chapel values Razlo because he values his usefulness, which unfortunately makes sense as to why Razlo would be so loyal to him. I have to wonder the circumstances that led to Razlo killing all those people... I don't think it would've been for no reason at all - he killed Livio's parents because they were abusing them, killed the dog likely because of a grave miscalculation of cause-and-effect when it came to Jasmine almost dying, and killed the men who were tormenting Livio when he ran off. But anyways I hate how the EoM keeps shackling him and restraining him like he's some feral animal. Has anyone ever been kind to Razlo? Has anyone ever rewarded him for anything other than being useful? Look, kid had some serious issues that needed to have been addressed (instead of training the severely traumatized hair-trigger violent kid to be... even more violent lol what did they expect would happen?), but... look at him. He was still very much a kid who saw someone who proved that he was useful to them through an incredibly violent act - the only language Razlo actually understood. Idk if there's any reaching him now but... ugh.

Orphanage lady I adore you. Also the kids refusing to scatter hjdfhbvsjdf

"Why else would he bite the hand of his master?" Really, with this and the way Razlo is restrained in flashbacks, we're going for a strong "trained attack dog" theme going on here huh? Fuck you dude. (There's also "bite the hand that feeds you" as an expression... which is interesting too, because Chapel clearly feels Wolfwood should feel honoured by his teachings... but his was never the hand that fed. Chapel tore this child down.)

NO FUCK OFF THIS IS WHAT HE WAS MOST AFRAID OF. And I hate this so much more because this means that Chapel actually knows Wolfwood's fears quite well... but ASSHOLE WHOSE FAULT IS THIS?

Yes!!! They love you! Get loved, idiot!!!!! You never had to do everything alone... :')

*ugly sobbing*

I still think Wolfwood tried to do this alone out of a sense of personal accountability and not wanting to burden Vash with his own problems - while he thinks they could've done this as a team here, I think he's still only thinking in "I failed" rather than realizing that helping would've been far from a burden. If that makes any sense. I still think Wolfwood devalues how much he matters to the people he cares about.

Here he is! Using his Plant powers without hesitation again to intervene and help Wolfwood. I can't believe the way they allow each other to become less afraid.

"I made a friend." Yes! You! Did!!! I reiterate! GET LOVED.

Aaaaaaand Wolfwood still can't quite wrap his head around the idea that his personal struggles might actually be incredibly important to Vash. See, I don't think it's that Wolfwood thinks Vash doesn't care about him - far from it, I think he definitely knows that - the heartbreaking part is the way he never seems to think he is anyone's priority. (And he really has become a priority to Vash hasn't he? He's postponing the confrontation with Knives to help him. :O) Also the way "I can't believe it." is overlayed on the panel with the church bell and the "angel" wing. Ha. Nice. Nice. This is fine.

I'm sorry but this made me laugh so hard. Imagine some angel looking guy appears out of nowhere and blocks all your bullets. Like. Yeah. That would be the response hdjfhbsdjfvh (Also I think this is a fantastic reaction image pfft)

"That overdose will make your heart rupture!" ...no...

Did he just throw Chapel? Is he dead???

AUGH I WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE SUNGLASSES. He's trying to hide his eyes again (just like he does earlier in the series when he's about to shoot with lethal intent/is trying to hide his feelings) because he thinks they reveal him as a monster or irredeemable - they do not. They never have. But Vash... apparently either hearing his thoughts or just knowing him well enough to know what he needs and responding to that instantly... :'(

...I wonder... is this the first time Razlo has registered a death as cruel? Chapel died instantly; that's not really all that cruel... the cruel part is that Razlo is experiencing personal loss.

NOOOO WE'RE GETTING A FLASHBACK TO THEIR FIRST MEETING WITH VASH'S THOUGHTS AND THE FUCKING BIRD??? THE BIRD REALLY IS MEANT TO BE VASH AND HIS IDEALS, ISN'T IT? AUGH

AW YEAH THEY'RE TAG-TEAMING BABY!!! Everything is different when they are back to back :)

Ahdjfhvbd and now they're saying the exact same things at the same time. Soulmate behaviour fr

I missed them being silly together so much... it's amazing too, because in spite of the situation, they both seem so much less tense than earlier. Still though... "why are you here?" and he can't spit out an answer, even though it should be really obvious... like I think they both know but accepting/admitting that is another matter.

God this is such an "I missed you I'm so glad you're here" moment. Probably as close as Wolfwood is going to get to outright saying that

Hello? Wolfwood's loved ones in one panel right next to Vash's loved ones in the other? Vash repeating Wolfwood's arguments of "realism" and "have to get back to the kids"? Wolfwood, you're scaring him...

I'm fascinated that the "he had become very close to me" part is overlayed with the scene where Wolfwood tries to get Vash to shoot. The whole "if I pull that out of you"... then combined with "What is important? What are we willing to do to protect it?" ...Livio and Vash are important to Wolfwood, so he is trying hard not to kill. Has Wolfwood become so important to Vash that... he might?

YOU CAN SEE HIS EYES THROUGH THE SUNGLASSES AHHHH

NO. NO. NO. HE WANTS TO LIVE PAST KNIVES. HE WANTS A FUTURE. HE WANTS A FUTURE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE STORY. HE WANTS WOLFWOOD THERE WITH HIM. ALSO I JUST NOTICED HE TOSSED HIS FUCKING GUN ASIDE TO CATCH HIM. He doesn't want this kind of life for them... he wants peace for them both... he wants them to stick together, even when there are no more battles to fight... he wants to live for Wolfwood. He wants to live with Wolfwood. Oh my god. No. No.

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO

STOP. WHY WOULD YOU FOCUS ON THE HAND. IT'S DIGGING INTO HIS BACK. He can't hold him... he can't...

Hey uh. Does it mean something that Vash didn't even react or feel the knives (the knives) in his shoulder because the pain of this hurts so much worse right now? (Also did I need to cause myself emotional damage by writing that out?)

REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Oh damn I think he is mad enough to kill. Holy shit.

In other news. I hate everything.

The sunglasses blown off his face again. When Razlo threatens Vash. Fuck off.

This fight scene is awesome and I love how brutal yet clever of a fighter Wolfwood is. ...I wish I could enjoy it more. Alas. I feel only pain.

I'LL NEVER BE WHOLE AGAIN. I'LL NEVER BE WHOLE AGAIN. RAZLO'S LINE AND THEN THIS. WHY WHY WHY

:O (reminds me of the Diablo chapter...)

Ok first off how the hell was Chapel still alive. Secondly, AHEOHJBFSHUCBSJVHSBJHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Livio :') (I feel pretty bad for Razlo though all things considered... I hope he's not gone for good? That'd be weird I think...)

Wolfwood, after all this shit, just laying on the ground: "yeah seems like a good time for a cigarette"

AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHH AHHHHHHHHHH

HNNNNGGGHDFBSUHCBUHSB... HHHHH A BAPY

wait. how could it have only been six years. what.

NOOOOOOO GOD THIS IS JUST LIKE VASH THINKING MERYL WAS SCARED OF HIM ALL OVER AGAIN. SWEETIE NO I AM POSITIVE THAT KID ONLY SCREAMED BECAUSE OF THE BLOOD. THEY LOVE YOUUUUU

...oof. I think Livio's hiding too. :(

GHHHHHHHHHHH THE COINS

Hjfshvbdfjhbv Livio comic relief. I'm so sorry buddy but I needed that. Hope you're ok...?

...so this is the scene the "infamous couch" is from. Okay. Okay. I get it now. Ow.

...I'm actually fighting back tears right now. I. I don't usually cry at stuff like this. I don't know if I can do this man.

He wants him to smile even if it's not a real one. He just wants to know he'll be ok. But Vash can't smile. He can't handle this kind of genuine talk. It'll make it all real. He's actually praying. Praying for just this one person. He's. He's never done that before, has he...?

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh...

ugh yeah no i'm crying. i'm tearing up. oww...

Oh, well, so is Wolfwood. Ugh. Ow. Ow.

...I saw the bell and had to stop and take a break. I don't want to turn the page. I don't want this. I'll come back tomorrow. Bye.

--

Hhhhh... What if you died knowing you were loved and you didn't realize how much until the end. What if you died realizing you always could've come home; that you would always be recognized for who you are, not what you'd been cruelly forced to become. What if you died seeing a possible future with the ones you loved but never being able to obtain it. Because it is far, far too late for that. The gratitude, the relief, the anguish that it all ends just as you realize what you could've had, and you cry out. But you still died knowing you were loved. And that's far more than you ever imagined for yourself.

I like to think he was smiling at the end because... it finally sank in.

And the bottle is labelled Bride??? What does that mean??? (Oh wait now I want to go back and look at the other alcohol bottles in the series to see if there's anything interesting on them) But uh, yeah, is this a religious thing, because I'm... why Bride. Why "The Bride". Huh?

^Hey this is really effective. Also, fuck off.

^Nightow sensei WHAT THE HELL MAN. Was this necessary?

Yeah I saw the first page of chapter 8 and my entire stomach just lurched. I think we should all receive compensation for emotional damage here. The bird... but it's not the black kite (Vash)... what kind of bird is that, I wonder?

Ah... Vash buried him. Alone. Hm. Yes, feeling normal about this. (Also Livio woke up inside the house which means... he must've moved him there too...)

"What do you mean "why"? You of all people should know why." <-oh. ow. yikes...

Oh... oh. His hair. :(

And it's so... he protected the area from the Ark. Ok he's protecting the place Wolfwood died to protect. Par for the course for Vash really. Except... hasn't everyone here evacuated already? He's protecting the place itself. ...also idk if this is right or not, but given the way the black hair is expending his own lifeforce it's... kind of hard not to see this a little as him expending the time he was planning on sharing with Wolfwood... and also that his hair went black... like the colour of mourning. ...with the "Bride" thing too it's... no. I shan't say it. I hate it here.

Hhhhhh... they both associate him with food...

Well. This has wrecked me. Thank you guys. I don't think I can analyze anything this week I'm too sad.

[anne-bsd-bibliophile]

Murder in the Age of Enlightenment: Essential Stories

By Akutagawa Ryūnosuke, translated by Brian Karetnyk

"... having fallen as far as this, they had already been so wearied by the many tortures of Hell that they no longer had the strength to cry out." (The Spider's Thread)

"At any rate, if you want to rob a man of his woman, it's only natural that you're going to have to kill him. Only, when I do it, I do it with a sword. People like you don't use swords. You gentlemen kill with power, with money, sometimes with words alone - all on the pretence of doing a man a favour. True enough, no blood is shed. He might even live well. But you've killed him all the same. It's hard to say whose sin is greater - yours or mine. [An ironic smile]" (In a Grove)

"When it once pleased His Lordship to joke, 'You appear to take pleasure in all manner of unsightly things,' Yoshihide's unnaturally red lips creased into an unnerving smile and he replied haughtily, 'Yes, My Lord, it's true. Other more frivolous painters lack the insight required to perceive beauty in what offends the eye.'" (Hell Screen)

"'As a rule, I'm unable to paint anything I haven't seen. ... I have seen a man bound by iron chains,' Yoshihide said. 'I have made a detailed sketch of another being tormented by a monstrous bird. Thus, it cannot be said that I do not know the tortures that sinners endure. As for the wardens of Hell . . .' here the corners of Yoshihide's lips rose sinisterly, 'as for the wardens of Hell, I have seen them any number of times in my dreams and hallucinations. Devils with bulls' heads, with horses heads, with three faces and six arms. Almost every night they come to torment me with their noiseless clapping hands and their voiceless gaping mouths. No . . . They are not what I am unable to pain.'" (Hell Screen)

"The fleeting moments I have left impel me to set down my story, to describe the motives that brought me to commit the murder, the act itself, as well as the strange state that gripped me after the deed was done. And yet - O! and yet - even now, how keenly I am aware of my breath warming the frozen ink, of having placed this sheet of paper before me, and, with fear and trepidation, trying vainly to master myself. After all, to examine my past and set it down in writing means nothing less than to relive a past life. Once more I hatch my plan, once more I commit the deed, once more I am made to suffer the torments of this last year. Can I really have the strength to endure all this?" (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"My state of mind then was such that a Japan without [her] had become utterly foreign to me. Rather than eke out the existence of a broken man in a country that was no longer my own, I thought it might be better to take a volume of Childe Harold, travel to some remote, distant place and, having roamed the world in lonely solitude, bury my bones in the soil of some foreign land." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"It seems that deep within my soul there lurks a monster incomprehensible even to myself." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"As the time passed, however, little by little I inched closer to the most despicable temptation of my life, and to a destiny with which I would ultimately have to reckon. By no means do I have the courage to recount how fierce was the battle I had to fight, how step by step, it pursued me to the brink of death. No, even now, as I inscribe these lines, I must enter into mortal combat with this hydra of temptation." (Murder in the Age of Enlightenment)

"... he contemplated death and war. But not even the faintest glimmer of wisdom came of it. After all, dying was still a wretched business, even if it was for the Emperor. As for war . . . Well, he didn't even hold war to be a crime. Next to war, crime, rooted as it was in private passion, was almost understandable. But war mean one's duty to the Emperor, and nothing else. And yet, he - but no, it was not just he, for more than two thousand men, from every division, had been selected for the White Sash Unit, and they too, whether they liked it or not, would now have to die, carrying out the greatest of duties . . ." (The General)

"I have no artistic conscience; indeed, I have no conscience whatsoever. I have only nerves." (Cogwheels)

"Soon enough, I began to feel that anything and everything was a lie. Politics, industry, arts, science - all this seemed to me little more than a gaily coloured enamel concealing the true horror of human life." (Cogwheels)

"I looked up to the lofty heavens to remind myself how small the world was - and, consequently, how small I myself was - amid the twinkling of countless stars." (Cogwheels)

"I haven't the strength to go on writing this. To live in this state of mind is an agony beyond all words. Isn't there someone kind enough to strangle me softly in my sleep?" (Cogwheels)

[chuplayswithfire]

i love the writing for Stede because he's an excellent example of how a person can be marginalized in some ways and privileged in others, which is, in general, the way the world actually works. its rare for there to exist a person with absolutely no privilege and only marginalizations, but people generally don't think of the ways that we're privileged, especially when we're suffering from the ways that we're marginalized

and that's why stede is a great example, and his writing does an excellent job of digging into the topic. because stede experiences a lot of marginalization as a gay man, from childhood bullying and abuse from his father right up to being pressured into marrying a woman and having children - but he's also immensely privileged by virtue of being rich, white, and a man, with each of those things insulating him from the realities of the world that other people, including the people around him, suffer through.

like, with mary - stede's marriage to mary as viewed by stede is one where they're both miserable in monotony, but when you look at the show in reality, stede checked out of his marriage because he didn't want to be there. mary didn't either, but she tried to make it work, because she doesn't have any other options in her society - she would be disgraced and without support, monetarily, or familial in most cases, if she left her husband, and she wouldn't be allowed to divorce him. she has to make it work because this is her only option.

but stede has options. stede can check out. stede can leave his wife to do the hard work of raising the kids while mary has to be the one to ask them to stop running around the house, and initiate conversations with them at the dinner table, and nurture and care for them. stede is the fun dad playmate, and its why when he decides that he wants to leave his monotonous life, where he's uncomfortable in a married state, that he leaves the children behind with her.

and with the crew - stede is a terrible captain in terms of actually knowing how to sail a ship or do anything that a ship needs doing. we all know this. the characters know this. there's a reason oluwande agrees that stede is going to get them all killed, and jim calls him the worst pirate captain ever - when stede sets out to be a captain, he genuinely sucks at this. he's terrible at it, because he didn't have to learn anything about doing any of it, he just needed to be rich to achieve everything he ever wanted, and then rely on the labor of poorer white men and poorer men of color to make it all work out for him.

in episode two, when stede finds his courage to go after the hostages and prove himself as a captain, he says "i am adequate", which is both played for comedy and empathy - comedy because its such an understatement for a positive affirmation, empathy because it's *such* an understatement and goes to outlining stede's overall low sense of worth, but i think it's also important to note that it's kind of right? at best, stede is adequate at that moment.

and throughout the show, we see stede take a lot of things to heart, but also, in many ways fail to take responsibility for things he does wrong - he overcompensates and makes them about his lack of worth, or he deflects and makes them not his fault, or he gets overly critical towards others so he doesn't have to accept any blame or fault - and it all stems from this mindset that's been built into him from youth, that he's worthless and terrible and pathetic.

and here's the thing: i'm not saying that stede's abusive father or the badmintons or anyone else who bullied and tormented stede were right. he's not a lily-livered little rich boy who's never going to be anything else. but they did impart a lot of learned helplessness into stede, at least as i see him, where because he has such low self-esteem, he genuinely seems to think that he can't possibly cause harm to other people. he feels guilty about abandoning his family, he feels guilty about leaving them behind, he feels that this makes him a bad person, but it's not until episode 9 and he learns that he's been reported dead that he seems to genuinely think about the ways that his family could have suffered without him.

after all, in keeping with the times, it's very possible that mary would have been educated on managing a household, but not finances or businesses, or the land that they run. it's very possible that other relatives could have come crawling from the woodwork for the fortune. it's possible that with the money being louis', not mary's, by right, that she could have been with very limited access to their funds.

a lot of bad things could have happened, even WITHOUT the emotional hurt that being abandoned by a husband/father would cause, but stede doesn't seem to have expected any of that. in episode 10, he's surprised and hurt that his children are angry and have forgotten him. he's angry that mary has found a person to be in love with. he's upset that he came back and coming back wasn't enough for anyone, because he didn't think he, stede bonnet, could hurt anyone.

and that's partially because he's always seen himself through the lens of victimization and the ways that others have hurt him, and not in the ways that he could hurt others. mary's life is better with stede gone not because of his inherent lack of worth as a person, but because he was a terrible husband, wrapped up in himself and his griefs and his hurts and his very real marginalizations, and in doing so completely failed to be compassionate or kind or even an active participant in his own domestic life.

by the end of the season, we see stede finally starting to own that. we see that he's recognized his part in the harm he caused, and that he's finally being active, not reactive, in his own life. he makes the decision to leave openly, he carefully removes himself from at least one of his privileges - his class, by abandoning his wealth fully, this time, no longer leaving himself a lifeline to the world of the wealthy elite, and setting out to be an equal to his crew and to ed.

and that's a GOOD way to show this kind of story. because we are often much more attuned to the ways that we experience marginalization than the ways we enjoy privilege. privilege functions near-invisibly for the privileged, because we don't see all the ways we benefit from a world that's purpose-built for us. it takes intentional thought and perspective to see that the world is not built equal, and that we don't all move through it in the same way. often times, we have to confront sources of our marginalization, like stede did in coming back home and dealing with the life he left behind, to acknowledge our privileges - like stede did again, facing his fellow disaffected rich peers and the wife and children he hurt - to begin being active participants in our lives.

i'm really glad for the way stede's journey is handled. it would have been SO easy for the show to say that stede has no fault in his actions, that he had no choices, that he was just reacting. instead the show shows us that stede had options all along, but he was so embedded within himself that he didn't see them, and straggled along, hurting people because he was too busy in that mindset, until finally he came out of it.

i'm excited to see season 2. i'm excited to see where stede grows next, now that he's finally actively shaping his life, not bowing to his learned helplessness, not looking away from the negative impacts of his choices.