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meteorrites · 6 months

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Hi! this is my first time posting here.. and I wrote this at like 2 am so it’s probably all jumbled up + I’m learning English (like actually) had to translate some stuff too :p

Wrote this for my friend so shout out to them, also this is somehow super long?? I don’t know how I managed that so it isn’t proof read.

Sub! Neuvillette nsfw

Furina tríes finding Neuvillette for a meeting but it seems he’s too busy (tried making it gender neutral but— yeah.)

warnings: office sex, reader has a dick but just imagine it’s a strap if you’d like, idk you fuck his ass basically, teasing

——————————

“Neuvillete!”

"Where could he be?" Furina muttered under her breath, a hint of worry breaking through her usually confident demeanor. "Leaving me alone with someone like that."

By “someone like that” she referred to Arlecchino one of the 11th fatui harbingers.

They had arranged a meeting to discuss matters of the state but it seemed Neuvillette was late, which was oddly out of character as he had always been punctual especially matters this serious.

As Furina waited nervously in Arlecchino's presence, her mind raced with concern, Furina swore she checked everywhere… everywhere but the most obvious place where you could find the chief justice himself, his office.

Arlecchino continued to scrutinize her with her piercing gaze. Furina finally blurted out, "Neuvillette should be here to assist me in this matter, but he seems to have vanished into thin air."

Arlecchino's expression remained stern, and a hint of amusement danced in her eyes as he responded, "It appears your capable assistant has chosen an interesting time to disappear. How... unfortunate for you, Furina."

Meanwhile, in Neuvillette's office, the atmosphere was thick with tension as his lips met yours.

Neuvillette's urgency was palpable as he hastily closed the door to his office, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of impatience and desire. Without wasting another moment, he turned to you, his voice husky but still filled with longing.

"Please, Y/n, do not delay any longer. I’ve been waiting for days."

Your lips curled into a knowing smirk as you approached Neuvillette with deliberate steps. The air between you two was charged with anticipation, your desires converging in the small, private space.

"Is that so?" Your voice was low and sultry, a stark contrast to his formality. Your eyes, however, remained dark with desire as you closed the distance between the two of you.

Neuvillette's fingers twitched at his sides, his impatience barely contained. "Do refrain from teasing, my dear Y/N. I find it rather challenging to contain my desires any longer."

Y/N's hands, however, moved with a deliberate slowness as they undid Neuvillette's belt, their gaze locked onto his. The anticipation in the room was electric, but Neuvillette couldn't help but feel a thrill in playing this particular game.

"Ah, but patience, Neuvillette," Y/N purred, their fingers tracing along his waistband, a teasing glint in their eyes.

Neuvillette's breath hitched, and he fought to maintain his usual composure as Y/N's touch sent shivers down his spine. "I’ve been patient enough."

Y/N's lips curled into a knowing smile as they finally freed Neuvillette from his pants. Neuvillette's arousal was evident, his desire on full display as he stood before Y/N, his usual formality slipping away.

"Then let’s not waste any more time.." Y/N's voice carried an air of command, and yet there was a mischievous playfulness to it that made Neuvillette's heart race.

Neuvillette's back met the edge of the desk, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of his skin. Y/N's hands were everywhere, exploring, caressing, and igniting every inch of Neuvillette's body.

Neuvillette's fingers tangled in Y/N's hair, and he pulled them into a fierce kiss that mirrored the urgency coursing through their veins. Their mouths collided, tongues dueling for dominance as their desire spiraled higher.

Y/N's hand slipped between them, wrapping around Neuvillette's hard length, and he couldn't help but moan at the sensation. His hips bucked instinctively, seeking more of Y/N's touch.

"Y/N," Neuvillette gasped, his voice laced with desire as Y/N's grip tightened around him. The formal facade was slipping further, giving way to the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

Yuri’s lips trailed down Neuvillette's neck, leaving a trail of heated kisses in their wake. "You're mine, Neuvillette. All mine."

Neuvillette's head spun, his arousal and need blurring his thoughts. "Fuck, yes," he managed to breathe, his grip on Y/n’s hair tightening.

In the heat of the moment, Y/n leaned down to capture Neuvillette's lips in a passionate kiss, their mouths melding together with a hunger that mirrored their desire. Neuvillette's moans of pleasure were swallowed by their kiss, the intensity of their connection deepening.

And then, Y/n's fingers found their way to Neuvillette's mouth. They slipped their fingers inside, and Neuvillette's tongue eagerly met them. With a sultry smile, Y/n withdrew their fingers, glistening with Neuvillette's saliva.

Using Neuvillette's saliva as a makeshift lubricant, Y/n continued their preparations, Y/n couldn't resist the urge to add another layer of sensation any longer to their passionate encounter. With one hand firmly gripping Neuvillette's hip, he used his free hand to slide his fingers between Neuvillette's cheeks, teasingly circling his entrance.

Neuvillette gasped at the unexpected touch, his body quivering with anticipation. Y/N's fingers dragged along the velvety walls of his ass, exploring and stretching him in tandem with his thrusts. It was a sensation that sent waves of pleasure coursing through Neuvillette's body, intensifying their connection and bringing them both closer to the brink of ecstasy. But he couldn’t release, he wanted more.

Neuvillette's voice quivered with need, his words a plea for more. "Y/N, don't tease me like this. I need you."

Y/N's response was a wicked grin as he continued his careful exploration, coming tantalizingly close to Neuvillette's prostate without quite hitting it. He could feel the heat and desire radiating from Neuvillette's body, and it only fueled his own arousal.

"Patience, Neuvillette," Y/N murmured, his voice husky with desire. "I want to make this unforgettable for you."

As Y/N stretched and prepared Neuvillette's eager ass, their connection grew even more intense. Neuvillette's moans of pleasure filled the room, his body responding eagerly to Y/N's skilled touch.

Y/N couldn't help but revel in the sensation of Neuvillette's tightness and warmth around him. It was an intoxicating feeling, one that he had longed for, and now that he had it, he intended to make the most of it.

Their passionate encounter continued, each moment filled with unrestrained desire and a playful teasing that had Neuvillette's mind in chaos. The office, once a place of formality, was now a sanctuary of shared passion, with no room for restraint or decorum.

As Y/N's fingers continued to work their magic, Neuvillette's moans grew louder and more desperate. He couldn't contain his desire any longer, and he longed for Y/N to take him completely.

"Y/N," Neuvillette gasped, his voice desperate and filled with need. "Please, I can't wait any longer. Take me."

Y/N's approach was deliberate, and as he pushed inside Neuvillette, he didn't fully enter but instead teased him by rubbing just the tip against his eager warmth. It was a calculated move, one designed to drive Neuvillette wild with desire.

Neuvillette's reaction was immediate and intense. He gasped, his body quivering with need as he desperately sought more of Y/N's touch. "Y/N, please," he begged, his voice filled with longing. "Don't tease me like this."

Y/N's grin was wicked as he continued to tantalize Neuvillette, the head of his cock dancing against Neuvillette's entrance. He could feel the way Neuvillette's body clenched around him, the walls of his ass gripping him tightly in response to the teasing.

Their connection was electric, desire and pleasure coursing through both of them. Y/N's voice was low and husky as he whispered in Neuvillette's ear, "You're so responsive, Neuvillette. I love how you react to my touch."

Neuvillette's moans grew louder, his control slipping away as Y/N's teasing pushed him to the brink of insanity. He arched his back, seeking more of Y/N's touch, more of the pleasure that only Y/N could provide.

"Y/N," Neuvillette gasped, his voice desperate and filled with need. "Please, I need you inside me. Take me."

Y/N's grin grew wider as he finally relented, pushing himself deeper into Neuvillette's eager warmth. A guttural moan escaped Neuvillette's lips as he was filled by Y/N's presence, the sensation overwhelming and exquisite.

Y/N's desire for a better position overwhelmed him, and without a word, they decided to take matters into their own hands. Neuvillette, lost in the sea of pleasure, was caught off guard as Y/N suddenly flipped him over, his chest pressed against the smooth surface of the desk, his ass now fully exposed to Y/N's hungry gaze.

Neuvillette's gasp of surprise was muffled by the desk, and he found himself in a position of vulnerability, completely at Y/N's mercy. Y/N's strength was surprising, and Neuvillette couldn't help but admire his assertiveness.

With Neuvillette now face down on the desk, his ass exposed and inviting, Y/N had full access to his most sensitive areas. It was a position that left Neuvillette trembling with anticipation, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for Y/N to take him completely.

Y/N wasted no time in taking advantage of the new position. His hands roamed over Neuvillette's back and hips, his touch both tender and demanding. He leaned over Neuvillette, his lips trailing hot kisses along the curve of his spine.

Neuvillette's moans of pleasure filled the room as Y/N's lips and hands explored every inch of his exposed skin. He couldn't contain his desire any longer, and he pressed his ass back against Y/N, silently begging for more.

Y/N's fingers brushed against Neuvillette's ass, teasing and tantalizing. He couldn't resist giving Neuvillette's cheeks a playful squeeze, earning a gasp of pleasure in response.

"Y/N," Neuvillette whispered, his voice filled with need. "Please, I need you."

Y/N's response was to position himself once again, this time pushing into Neuvillette with a single, powerful thrust. The sensation was overwhelming, and Neuvillette cried out in ecstasy as Y/N filled him completely.

Their connection deepened as they moved together in perfect harmony. The pleasure they shared was intense and all-consuming, and as they surrendered to the ecstasy that bound them together, they knew that this encounter would be one they would both cherish forever.

Y/N leaned over, his lips grazing Neuvillette's ear as he whispered, "You feel incredible like this, Neuvillette. You're mine, and I'm going to make you scream."

Neuvillette's moans filled the room as Y/N continued to thrust into him, their passion reaching new heights with every passing moment. The office, once a place of formality, was now a realm of shared desire, where they could give in to their most primal instincts without restraint.

Their movements were fervent, urgent, driven by a need that had built over days of anticipation. The desk rocked beneath them, a testament to their unrestrained desire.

Neuvillette's hands gripped the edge of the desk, his knuckles turning white as he met each of Y/n’s thrusts with equal fervor. The pleasure was exquisite, every sensation magnified by their raw need for each other.

Y/n’s voice was a low growl in Neuvillette's ear, their words driving Neuvillette closer to the edge. "You're so damn responsive, Neuvillette. My cock knows exactly how to make you scream."

Neuvillette's pants were fully down now, leaving him exposed and pressed against his desk, the situation utterly scandalous. Y/N's grip on him tightened, their desire evident in the way they pressed their body against him, their groin firmly against Neuvillette's exposed rear.

The friction and heat between them were undeniable, and Neuvillette's gasps grew more intense as pleasure coursed through his body. His arousal was evident, his cock hard and throbbing, pre-cum glistening as it dripped onto the polished surface of the desk.

Y/n's relentless desire and teasing had pushed Neuvillette to the brink of ecstasy, and he couldn't deny the intoxicating sensations that coursed through him. The office, once a place of formality, had become a sanctuary of shared passion and irresistible temptation.

In the midst of their passionate encounter, Y/N couldn't resist teasing Neuvillette further. Their voice dripped with seduction as they whispered, "What if Lady Furina walked in right now, Neuvillette? What if she saw the Iudex of Fontaine in such a compromising position?"

Neuvillette's thoughts were a jumbled mess, and he struggled to maintain some semblance of composure. His usual formality had been abandoned, and he was now fully immersed in the intoxicating moment.

"I-I..." Neuvillette stammered, unable to form a coherent response. Y/N's teasing was driving him to the brink of insanity, but he couldn't bring himself to stop or resist.

Their passionate encounter continued, with Y/N's relentless teasing pushing Neuvillette further into ecstasy. The office, once a place of formality, had become a sanctuary of shared passion, where restraint and decorum had no place.

Y/N reveled in the control they had over Neuvillette, their voice a seductive whisper in his ear. "Tell me, Neuvillette, what would you say to Lady Furina if she walked in right now? How would you explain this?"

Neuvillette's mind was a whirlwind of desire and pleasure, and he struggled to form coherent thoughts. "I... I would..." he began, his voice trembling as he was unable to finish the sentence.

Y/N's laughter was a sultry melody as they continued their relentless assault on Neuvillette's senses. "Would you tell her how much you enjoy being taken like this, Neuvillette? How you crave my touch, my every command?"

Neuvillette's moans grew louder, his resistance crumbling with each passing moment. He couldn't deny the truth of Y/N's words, and his desire for them was all-consuming.

As their passion reached its peak, Y/N's voice took on a commanding tone. "Tell me you're mine, Neuvillette. Say it."

Neuvillette's breaths were ragged, his need overwhelming. "I'm yours," he finally gasped, surrendering completely to Y/N's control.

Y/N's desire was insatiable, and as their passionate encounter with Neuvillette continued, they couldn't resist the urge to explore every inch of his body. With heated urgency, Y/N found himself wanting to feel all of Neuvillette, to experience every sensation in their shared moment of ecstasy.

Their lips locked in a fiery kiss, tongues dancing in a sensual rhythm as they continued their fervent lovemaking. Y/N's hands roamed Neuvillette's body, tracing the contours of his chest and shoulders. His shirt had become an inconvenient barrier to the sensations he craved, and he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

"Turn around, Neuvillette," Y/N whispered breathlessly, his voice dripping with desire.

Neuvillette, lost in the intoxication of their passion, complied, his chest rising and falling heavily. He couldn't help but wonder what Y/N had in mind, his curiosity piqued by their urgency.

Y/N's desire to feel all of Neuvillette was undeniable, and as he attempted to remove Neuvillette's shirt, he found it to be a more complex task than anticipated. The fabric clung to Neuvillette's body, and in his haste, Y/N decided on a more direct approach.

With a swift motion, Y/N slid his hand under Neuvillette's shirt, fingers eagerly seeking the warmth of his skin. His palm pressed against Neuvillette's chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breath, and his fingers traced the contours of Neuvillette's pecs.

Neuvillette's gasp of surprise and pleasure was music to Y/N's ears as his hand explored further, fingers brushing against the hardened nubs of Neuvillette's nipples. Their shared ecstasy deepened as Y/N's touch elicited a moan from Neuvillette, his body reacting to the exquisite sensations.

Neuvillette couldn't help but break the passionate silence with a trembling voice, filled with desire and curiosity. "Y/N, what are you doing?"

Y/N's own desire was palpable, his breath hot against Neuvillette's ear as he replied, "I want to feel all of you, Neuvillette. Every inch."

Their bodies pressed together, their connection intensified by the intoxicating sensations coursing through them. Y/N continued to pound with unrelenting fervor, each thrust driving them closer to the brink of ecstasy.

"Haah," Neuvillette moaned, his pleasure building with each passing moment. Y/N's touch and their shared intimacy were overwhelming, and he could no longer contain his desire.

Their passionate encounter continued, the office now a private realm of shared desire and irresistible temptation. The complexities of their desires, the urgency of their actions, and the fervent dialogue between them created an unforgettable tableau of unrestrained passion.

As their passionate encounter reached its climax, Y/N couldn't resist the temptation to tease Neuvillette one final time. Their shared desire had pushed them both to the edge, and Y/N was determined to send Neuvillette over the precipice of ecstasy.

Their breaths were ragged, and their bodies glistened with a sheen of sweat as Y/N whispered provocatively, "I didn't know dragons could be so responsive, Neuvillette."

Neuvillette's moans of pleasure and desire filled the air, his body trembling with anticipation. Y/N had discovered his most sensitive spot, and he was now utterly at their mercy.

With one final, powerful thrust, Y/N hit Neuvillette's prostate with precision, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through him. Neuvillette's eyes widened, and he saw stars explode behind his closed eyelids as pleasure consumed him entirely.

A strangled cry of pleasure escaped Neuvillette's lips as his vision exploded with stars. The sensations coursing through his body were overwhelming, and he couldn't hold back any longer.

His release was powerful, an eruption of pleasure that left him seeing stars as he came, coating his own stomach and shirt with his essence. The intensity of the climax was like nothing he had ever experienced before, and he was left trembling and utterly spent.

After their passionate climax, Y/N couldn't help but look down at Neuvillette, his face flushed with desire, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. He was a vision of post-orgasmic bliss, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath.

With a mischievous smile, Y/N leaned down and left a lingering hickey on Neuvillette's neck, a mark of their intense encounter. Neuvillette gasped at the sensation, a mixture of pleasure and surprise coursing through him.

But before Y/N could savor the aftermath, Neuvillette's expression shifted from one of post-orgasmic bliss to sudden realization and panic. With a start, he quickly sat up, his eyes widening in alarm as he asked in a frantic voice, "What time is it?"

The urgency in Neuvillette's tone was palpable, and Y/N glanced at a nearby clock. His eyes widened as he saw the time, and he couldn't help but curse under his breath. Neuvillette was incredibly late to the meeting, and the implications of his tardiness were not lost on either of them.

Y/N quickly gathered his clothes and helped Neuvillette do the same, their movements hurried and frantic. They exchanged hurried, breathless kisses in between pulling on their clothes, the taste of each other still lingering on their lips.

As Neuvillette finally managed to get dressed, he glanced at Y/N with a mix of regret and longing. "I wish I could stay," he murmured, his voice filled with genuine desire.

Y/N smiled, his fingers tracing Neuvillette's cheek affectionately. "I know," he replied, his own desire evident in his eyes. "But duty calls, and Lady Furina awaits."

Neuvillette nodded, his expression torn between his responsibilities and his longing for Y/N. With a final, lingering kiss, they reluctantly parted ways, knowing that the world outside was waiting for them.

———

Extra:

"Well, well, Neuvillette," Furina purred, her voice laced with sarcasm. "You certainly took your sweet time getting here. Care to explain why you're so fashionably late?"

Neuvillette, still slightly breathless from his passionate encounter with Y/N, struggled to find the right words. He knew that any excuse he offered would likely be met with more of Furina's sharp wit… and probably her wanting to take him to court for being late.

Y/N's earlier teasing echoed in his mind, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of amusement despite the situation. It seemed that both his assistant and Lady Furina had a penchant for teasing him mercilessly.

With a composed facade, Neuvillette finally replied, "My apologies, Lady Furina. I was... caught up in a matter of utmost importance."

Furina's lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I see. A matter of utmost importance, you say? Well, I do hope it was worth the delay."

#sub!neuvillette #neuvillette #genshin impact smut #genshin impact sub #neuvilette smut #sub genshin #sub!neuvilette #genshin smut #dom reader

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kaminocasey · 6 months

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25 Days of Life Day: Day 15 - Stuck in the Cold with Wolffe

Summary: You and Wolffe are on your way to a party and you get stuck out in the snow, so you try to find a place to get warm!

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI; Suggestive content, nudity, light angst

A/N: Okay a few things, I'm SO sorry I'm so behind. I'm gonna try to get caught up! We had the Steel City Con and then I had to go back to work and then we got sick... so it's been a rough week lol. Anyway, I had to throw Gregor and my OC Cassia in there for a little fun-sy thing. Lol. Okay back to our regular programming! S/O to @rebelsriley for the Wolffe inspo! <3

“I told you we were going to be late to the party.” You grumble, your teeth chattering violently from the cold.

You’re normally a generally pretty happy person, but unfortunately, stepping in the freezing cold foot high snow is what’s putting you in a bad mood. Especially dressed for a party, and not for snow. Where the hell did this snow even come from?

“Yeah, well… if you hadn’t taken two hours to get ready...” Wolffe snips back, frozen white flakes getting stuck in his dark lashes.

The two of you are on your way to a party at Gregor and his partner Cassia’s apartment. Wolffe had suggested that the two of you walk and then the snow started coming down thickly. He had been saying for the last hour or so “Not much farther” but you’re pretty sure that you’re lost. So when you suggested that he comm someone, he went to pull out his comm device and found that it was dead. Then, you went to try to use yours except you left it at home.

So that’s how your night is going.

“It wasn’t two hours.” You snap.

“Oh, I’m sorry… an hour and fifty minutes.” He grunts.

“We need to get out of this snow. Now.” You insist, ignoring his snide comment.

“You think I don’t know that?” He’s been surveying your surroundings for the last fifteen minutes trying to find a safe place to stop and get out of the cold.

At this point, he’s willing to splurge on a hotel, but the closest thing he can see is a sketchy motel.

“That place is fine.” You point at the sketchy motel.

“Fine.” He grunts, trying to hide just how cold he is.

Wolffe also tries to ignore how close you are to him, knowing it’s only because you’re so cold. You weren’t even supposed to be with him right now. Rex had invited you and the look in your eyes was so starry when he asked you. And then Rex had asked Wolffe to pick you up and bring you. He still doesn’t know why.

When you arrive at the dingy motel, the two of you walk into the main office, warm air immediately hitting you in the face so nicely that you both let out a satisfied “Ahhh.”

The small Aleena man at the desk peers over the counter at you and Wolffe, nervously glancing at Wolffe when he realizes he’s a clone.

You look up at Wolffe, smirking when you realize that he’s thinking of the time that the 104th had to go to Aleen and when he looks down at you, he rolls his eyes.

“Two rooms.” Wolffe mumbles and you elbow him in the side. “Please.”

You smirk up at him again, going warm in the face from how well he reads you. You have been nursing a crush on the man since the moment you met him, grumpiness and all. You work with the Wolfpack closely as a translator since Wolffe absolutely refused to work with C3-PO ever again. “Only have one available.” He tells Wolffe.

You and Wolffe share a look and with a sigh, he holds his hand out for the key card. The man gives Wolffe the card and you give the Aleena a polite smile as Wolffe leads you back outside into the cold, and then up some stairs that lead to the rooms.

When you get up to the room, Wolffe groans and you peer around him, seeing that the room only has one bed. Because of course it does.

“What a romcom trope.” You laugh, nervously.

“What does that even mean?” He grumbles, going around the room and inspecting it. “Lock the door.”

“Yes sir.” You grumble right back.

He pauses, his shoulders rigid, and looks up at you, his eyes wide. Going hot all over, the cold forgotten, you swallow dryly. Wolffe eyes your form, up and down and you feel like you’re going to combust if he continues to look at you like that.

“What?” You demand, nervously.

“Our clothes are sopping wet…” He turns to crank the heater up and groans, irritated but unsurprised. “Fucking heater doesn’t even work properly…”

You let out a nervous laugh again and he rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand down his face.

“Glad you think this is funny.” He starts to take his coat off and then his sweater and you turn around.

“What are you doing?” You ask him.

“You wanna freeze to death in your wet cold clothes? Strip. Now. And then get under the blanket.” He uses his Commander voice and you feel like you’re definitely on fire now.

You’re absolutely torn because Maker, that commanding tone? But also like… getting naked in the same vicinity as Wolffe? It feels like the universe is playing some cruel prank on you. The man hates you. He makes it well known that he thinks you’re only a burden.

“I’m… sorry.” He offers, softer, behind you, noticing you pausing. “Just… if you want, I can put a pillow between us… We need to get our body temperatures back up.”

He’s right. You know he’s right.

“I won’t look.” He promises you.

But you don’t think you’d mind if he did. Nevertheless, you strip down to nothing and climb under the covers. You’re still shaking under the cover and you can’t tell if it’s from being cold or being near Wolffe.

“I’m sorry for… earlier.” Wolffe murmurs.

You shrug, looking over at him. He doesn’t look so big and bad now that he has a blanket pulled up to his chin. You actually can’t help but smile.

“It’s alright. It’s who you are. I wouldn’t ask you to change.” You shrug.

“You wouldn’t?” He looks over at you.

“Nah.” You grin.

He gives you a small smile and your chest tightens.

“Sorry this was a rotten Life Day… I’m sure you’d rather be here with someone more… pleasant.” He murmurs. “Like Rex.”

You’re still trembling, which Wolffe notices and wants desperately to pull the pillow away so he can pull you to him and warm you up himself.

“Nope.” You tell him, turning over, scooting closer to the pillow.

He does the same, so now you’re both cuddling the pillow and your fingers are mere centimeters from each other.

“No?”

“Not at all.”

“I thought when Rex invited you…”

You chuckle. “I think Rex is really nice… but I prefer my men a little grumpy and just over everyone’s shit at all times.”

He lets out a genuine laugh and it’s probably one of the nicest sounds you’ve ever heard.

“I honestly thought you hated me…” You admit to him, quietly.

He’s watching your hand and decides to bravely place his over yours. Relief fills his veins when you don’t pull away. Wolffe suddenly realizes why Rex had him bring you to the party. He either owes Rex a handshake or a beating, he isn’t sure yet.

“I could never.” He tells you, honestly. “Your sunshine demeanor keeps me going most days, if not all days…”

The breath hitches in your throat at his admission. “Can we…” You pat the pillow and he nods, quickly pulling it away and dropping it on the floor, pulling your body against his immediately, as if he’s been dying to do that.

He starts to open his mouth to say something, but you clumsily crush your lips to his, making him immediately melt against you. He groans against your lips, enveloping you in his arms, warmth spreading through both of your veins so lightning fast you think you feel warm again.

“I could think of another way to get us warm.” He teases, lightly.

“You read my mind.” You chuckle, tangling your legs with his.

Somehow, this Life Day turned out to be the best one yet.

TAGS: @twistedstitcher27 @rebel-finn @rexandechosandwich @madameminor @dumfanting @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @brynhildrmimi @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @idledreams @redheadgirl @themcuwriter @ashotofspotchka @sunshinesdaydream @crosshairsimp73 @ariadnes-red-thread @rosmariner @heyitsaloy @starstofillmydream @high-ct5555 @echos-girlfriend @sleepywych @nekotaetae @justanothersadperson93 @aconstructofamind @book-of-baba-fett @chopper-base @palliateclaw @501st-rexster @dead-poolz @nahoney22 @where-is-my-mind-tho @jediknightjana @erishimoon @witching3 @queen-of-many-fandoms @wizardofrozz @burningfieldof-clover

#25 Days of Life Day #25 Days of Life Day 2023 #Tcw Wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #Commander Wolffe #x reader

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luveline · 2 years

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would you be willing to do palm kisses for zombie au? holding hands during a stressful situation and palm kisses? i just really the world you built for the zombie au and hope this is something worthy of your writing energy.

hi!!! thank you sm for your request, hope this is OK! tw general apocalypse hardship + r falls n cuts her head ♥︎ fem!reader

There are people hunting you.

At first, you and Steve can't really believe it. You're on a steady course toward the city after a couple of weeks scraping together food, looking for any sign at all of civilization. Of his friends.

You've told Steve too many times that you'll follow where he goes, no matter what, for as long as he can stand you. And at first he'd joked that might not be very long. These days he just squeezes your hand or your arm or your shoulder and says, "Forever, then."

It happens too often, the sound of a gunshot that travels, smoke from a campfire not far behind. You and Steve are on the same page about it — whether friend or foe, you have to be careful. Letting your guard down now would be the stupid thing to do. You've survived for months now together, through hordes of zombies and unfortunate accidents, the time you got locked into a walk-in freezer with a zombie, and the time you fell ten feet through the floor of a dilapidated townhouse and survived the concussion from hell. Wasting all these second chances to try and broker contact with whoever it is that's following you would be childish.

Steve holds out his hand to help you over a ditch. Seemingly man-made, though it could've been a tributary run dry.

"Careful," he says, smiling, "it's slippery."

"Don't let me fall."

"No, I won't," he assures you, offering his second hand as you step across. You take it and he pulls you over, making one of his happier sounds.

You could communicate through sounds alone with him now. At first, Steve hadn't spoken much. Shell-shock, you'd summarised. He was agitated, angry, and scared, though he the latter well. He was trying his best to get you both through circumstances nobody has ever had to go through, and you'll admit you were more of a burden than a help at first, so you won't blame him for being so stressed. You've learned a lot now, how to defend yourself and how to defend him.

His sounds continue and you translate as best as you can. This one's pleased. It's practically a well done.

"Do you think we should zig zag again?" you ask.

"You read my mind." He pulls the strap of your backpack into place over your shoulder and starts to walk again, your fingers intertwined, joined hands a tether. "I think… Maybe it would be a good idea to find somewhere to hide."

"We don't know if these creeps are watching us. What if we hide and they box us in?"

Steve's grip on your hand tightens. "I don't like being out here. The cold will kill us before they do."

He's right. And you're right too. The cold will kill you, and whoever it is that's expending the incredible effort it is to follow you around will probably kill you too if they find you. You've done well in evading by keeping strict time, sleeping for only a handful of hours before you're on the run again, but you can't cover your tracks well. The campfire at night gives you away, yet without it you'll freeze to death.

You're fucking terrified. Steve hasn't shown it, but you figure he must be too. What could it be worth to follow you like this? You're only two people.

You bite your cheek hard and wince, startled at your own thoughts. What could you be worth? Beyond your packs, all you have are your bodies. A sinkhole opens beneath you and swallows you whole, a thousand scary visions flashing quick like pictures on a projector. They want to hurt you. They must. And there are a lot of ways to do it.

"Maybe we should hide," you say quietly.

Steve rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. "Whatever we do, we just gotta be smarter about it than they are. Every night we practically lead them to us with the fire, so. If we get inside, we won't need that, but-" He looks forward toward the horizon, where you can just barely make out the shadowy impressions of buildings at the end of the highway. "I don't think we're gonna get there any time soon."

Like he can feel your anxiety, he adds, "They're slowed down by all the same stuff as us. That's not gonna change. Maybe a geek'll do us a favour and eat them before-" He drops off.

"Before what?"

You're side by side now. He turns his face to yours. "I don't know. Before we run into bad luck, I guess."

You walk in silence for a few seconds, and then you nod and swing his hand. "Bad luck, us?"

"My sarcasm is corrupting you."

Sarcasm, maybe. You jinx yourselves.

Steve is clearing a place for the night. There's not much you can do besides sweep aside the bigger twigs and lay your tarp to try to cut the cold. Now that you're comfortable practically climbing on top of one another every night you're warmer, but the earth soaks up cold, and it's unforgiving.

You don't know how it happens, how they manage to catch up, but suddenly there's laughter from not far away, and it isn't the fun kind. Far from Steve's light and bubbly chuckle or your own loud, clumsy giggling, this laugh is cruel. This laugh is winning.

Steve doesn't even stop to roll up the tarp. A branch snaps like a firework through the trees and you both flinch to one another. He takes your hand.

"We're gonna run," he says, more calmly than you'd expect from him.

You run. Rucksacks pulled tight to your bodies, linked by trembling fingers curled aching around each others, you run through the trees. The sun sinks low toward the horizon and through the silhouette of the city like a drunken lover coming home; slowly, so slowly, a wobbling egg yolk dripping down, and then it's fallen to the floor and disappeared in a queasy flash.

You can see enough to race around trees, up slopes, enough to see the highway a couple hundred yards to the right, and to see Steve's hand in yours swinging in front of you both as you sprint. His breaths come loud, gasping, and you realise you should be taking bigger breaths too as a stitch starts to form. You run through it, you don't mention it, horrified at the idea of stopping even for a second.

Each step burns, and the heavy weight of your pack digs into your shoulders. The light fades more and more and soon you feel like you and Steve are stumbling blind, wondering how much longer you can last. You'd never have thought before all of this that your endurance would stretch so far, but the difference sometimes between life and death is the strength to keep running.

You trip on a tree root and tumble forward, going fast enough to feel your feet leave the ground. Your breath catches, any air that had managed to sink into your desperate lungs punching out of you instantly.

"You're okay," Steve says quickly, though he can't know. "You're okay." His hand hook under your armpits and he drags your shaking body behind the too-skinny trunk of a tree, the roots you'd tripped on like ice under your thighs.

You try to look at him and find yourself blind in one eye.

"Steve," you say pathetically, hand flying to your face.

"Shh, shh," he shushes, a distinct trembling in his voice. "It's okay. You're okay."

"My eye-"

He holds his hand over your mouth. You pant through your nose and squirm, but he only presses down harder, so hard your teeth hurt.

"I'm sorry," he pleads desperately, a whisper, "I'm so sorry, you need to be quiet."

You whimper into his palm.

"You're bleeding," he whispers. He opens his mouth to continue but stops, head tilted to one side, listening. When he doesn't hear anything, he continues, "You're bleeding from a cut on your forehead. It's in your eye. It's-" He swallows hard. "It's all over you."

His hand softens.

"You need to whisper," he says.

You nod. He pulls his hand away.

Words won't come. You're shaking hard, teeth clicking together, and Steve is touching you. His hands at your neck, his thumb wiping blood away from your mouth. He pulls you away from the tree so he can dig in your bag for the first aid kid, a shoddy, near barren plastic case.

He tries to open it and it's too dark. It's so dark, and the bleeding won't stop, blood heaving down your face in a bumping stream to your collar.

"I'm- I'm gonna-" Steve's hands are not steady. "I'm gonna wipe your face, and- fuck."

Your chest is moving erratically. You both need to calm down. You need to be quick. What's the best way to make him — make you both — focus?

You take his hand, the one that isn't covered in blood, and bring it to your lips. You kiss him weakly at first, better on your second attempt.

"It's okay," you say.

He drops his forehead against the back of his hand briefly.

"It's okay, Stevie," you say, lips moving against the lines of his palm. His lifeline, his loveline.

He takes a deep breath. "Shit," he mumbles, sitting back on his knees again.

"I don't think they followed us," you whisper.

He cups your face. "I don't think they could. We were fast."

You laugh and abruptly close your mouth to stifle it.

In the dark like this, the only light the slim trimmings of the moon, Steve looks at you like you're everything. Awed, and undoubtedly afraid, he takes a few seconds to recalibrate and then he gets to work. Wipes your oozing cut with a winning apology, and then unclips the torch from his belt to shine at it assessingly.

You keen when he shines it in your eyes.

"Open your eyes, honey," he says, pet name a warmth that cuts through the creeping cold and lingering panic, "Wanna see if you're concussed."

He finishes his assessment and bandages you up. It's a haphazard job and you don't have any disinfectant. "It'll be alright. I'll make it alright, we'll- we'll see how it heals, and we'll go looking for something if we need to. It's not too big."

Adrenaline rush is the worst crash.

Exhausted, overwhelmed, Steve drops his face into the crook of your neck and pulls your face toward his carefully, kneeling between your open legs. You pull them up and lock him in with your knees, hurting all over.

"That was so fucking scary," you say.

He pats the back of your head. "Yeah. Yeah. It was."

That's enough for a while.

Every sound makes you jump. Steve disentangles from you only to search the sky for smoke, and he folds back into your arms with a relieved huff. "Fire to the east. It looks… I don't know. Far."

"Maybe tonight we should just…freeze."

He rubs his scratchy face into your neck. "We won't freeze."

Steve insists you sleep between his legs. You swap places, and he crosses his arms over your tummy, hands tucked intertwined with his into your pockets. You don't have to ask who's sleeping first because it's always you, and you won't waste time. You turn your face away from his chest and kiss his bicep, or rather the coat and sweater and long sleeve tee that covers it.

When he wakes you up in the twilight hours, it's with great news.

"I think they gave up on us. I heard, uh, some friendly fire."

"No way. They killed each other?"

He grins at you. "I don't know for sure, but- it sounded like it. The campfire's out, too."

Steve takes his turn to sleep. You wake him when the sun rises, and the next night you search the sky for smoke and find none. Whoever it is that's hunting for you, they've stopped.

"I think we're more than safe to light a fire tonight. Which is awesome. I think my ass has hypothermia," Steve says, thigh to thigh with a handful of your knee.

You beam, hand skirting dangerously low on his back. "Wan' me to check?"

"Pervert. Finish your dinner."

Dinner is half an apple and four big sips of water. With every jaw movement your new cut pulls. You can barely feel it, euphoric to be flirting with him, alive and well and warmed by a huge celebratory fire.

—

#steve zombie!au #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things 4 #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic

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cirilla-fiona-riannon · 1 year

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Ikemen Villain - Premium

These translations are not intended as a replacement for the game. Please support cybird by buying their stories. SPOILERS under the cut. Expect mistakes.

TW: This chapter contains/mentions violence and death. Please read on with caution.

I followed Alfons and stepped into the dark, dusty room.

(Is Elbert here?)

A figure emerged from the darkness, dimly lit by the twilight.

His golden hair was dazzling even in the darkness, and I knew at first glance that it was him.

Kate: "Elbert?"

Elbert: "Kate?"

Kate: "What on earth are you doing here?"

I was about to walk up to him when I noticed a figure at his feet and gasped.

The person crawling with his head in his hands was...

Kate: "Graham?"

He was wobbling and shaking, not even paying attention to Alfons or me.

Alfons: "This is Elbert's power. Once he stepped on a shadow, it'd bring back the person's saddest memory."

Alfons: "And the more painful the experience, the more effective it is."

Elbert: "..........."

Elbert looked at Graham sadly.

Alfons, on the other hand, was smiling and dropped what looked like a pill into the glass in his hand.

Alfons: "You must be exhausted and in a lot of pain. Here, drink this, and you'll feel better."

Graham picked it up with empty eyes and drank it down.

Graham: "Ugh...ahh..."

Groaning in pain, Graham clutched his chest and fell to the ground.

Kate: "D-Don't tell me..."

As Graham remained motionless, a bad feeling ran through my entire body.

Alfons: "Yes, that's right."

Alfons: "I don't really like the idea of killing him, but it's what Her Majesty has ordered."

Graham's eyes were wide open, and bright red blood trickled down his pale lips.

I was speechless, seeing the reality of evil conquering evil, but something warm suddenly blocked my eyes.

Elbert: "No need to look any further."

Kate: "Elbert..."

When I realized it was his palm, I knew why he locked me inside the room.

(Elbert was trying to keep me away from their sins and to keep me from getting my heart broken.)

Elbert: "Let's get out of here."

Unable to shake off my fear, Elbert took me out into the garden as I wobbled around.

Elbert: "I'm sorry. I didn't intend for you to see that."

Elbert: "You probably know by now that I'm here today on a mission to assassinate him."

Kate: "I knew it."

Graham apparently had been repeatedly assaulting women together with his friends.

He was using money to bribe the police as he verbally intimidated the victims, so they had no choice but to keep their mouths shut.

They also found out that several of them had died as a result of their injuries, and that was the deciding factor in this mission.

Kate: "Why did he do those terrible things?"

Elbert: "They say it's revenge."

Elbert: "He was abused as a child by his mother, and after she died, he got himself involved with an uncouth aristocrat."

Elbert: "There he got a taste for revenge, venting his pent-up anger on noblewomen."

(You can't just hurt someone because you're suffering, but...)

A child who should’ve been protected was hurt and met this end because of his trauma.

(It’s unfortunate that no one saved him before he committed those crimes.)

The root of his sin was probably an unfulfilled emptiness.

(I wonder if this is how Elbert felt as he sadly stared at him.)

Kate: “You’ve been trying to protect me all day, to keep me from becoming Graham’s target, and to keep me from seeing what I saw.”

Kate: “I’m sorry I left on my own.”

Elbert: “You don’t owe me an apology.”

Elbert: “If you know, you’ll be forced to bear some of the guilt, so I figured it’s better if you didn’t know.”

His face was even paler than ever.

(It’s as if he’s about to die from a poison.)

(He is amazingly unsuited for this kind of sin.)

(I wonder if he really wants to be in the crown.)

I couldn’t help but gently hold his hand as my heart throbbed painfully.

Elbert: “Kate?”

Kate: “I’m glad to know.”

Elbert: “Glad?”

Kate: “Because if I didn’t know your sins, I wouldn’t notice your kindness.”

(Even though he looked sad, he never said anything to me.)

(The crimes Graham committed, the fact that he and Alfons killed Graham...)

(He did everything he could to keep me away from all of it.)

Kate: "It's much better than ending the day looking at your sad profile without knowing anything about it."

I smiled, trying to hold back the pain in my chest, hoping to relieve my sadness, even if only a little.

Elbert: "............"

Elbert blinked and touched my cheek with his other hand for a moment.

Elbert: "You still smile even when you're hurting."

(You too.)

His fragile, snow-like smile made my heart clench in my chest.

Suddenly, my thoughts were interrupted by the light chirping of a parakeet.

When I looked over, I saw it flapping its wings adorably.

Kate: “Somehow, I feel like I understand now how the person who put that parakeet on display felt.”

(Even though I feel so down, feeling this creature’s breath soothes my soul.)

Elbert: “Yeah. I don’t really get you.”

Elbert: “I don’t get you, but I feel more dazzled by you now than before.”

Kate: “Me...?”

Returning my gaze from the parakeet, I gulped when I saw Elbert staring at me.

Kate: “U-Um, Elbert?”

Elbert: “What?”

He tightly squeezed my hand.

(----?)

A shiver ran down my spine as a weird feeling of anxiety hit me.

(He was acting somewhat differently from a moment ago.)

The sad look in his deep ocean-colored eyes disappeared, and he was now looking at me with the same obsessive look he had given the parakeet earlier.

Kate: “I-It looks dazzling. Wait, what do you mean?”

Elbert: “It exactly means what it says, Kate.”

His sea-colored eyes slowly approached me, almost as if he wanted to drag me down to the depths of the ocean.

Elbert: “What would it take for me to get a human being?”

Part 1╏Part 2╏Premium End╏Epilogue

#ikemen villains #ikemen villain #ikevil elbert #ikevil alfons #ikevil #elbert greetia #alfons sylvatica #ikevil jp #cybird #ikevil translations

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bonkywobble · 2 years

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Kinktober ‘22 - Day 3

Day 3 - Free Use with Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers

Pairing: Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 611

Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ only): noncon/dubcon, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap peeps) implied kidnapping, implied confinement.

Disclaimer: Please heed the warnings - if this makes you uncomfortable then click away. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. I do not give anyone permission to take, repost, copy or translate my stories, regardless of whether or not they are credited. This blog and all works associated with it are 18+ only. Minors please do not interact or follow.

A/N: Day 3 Here we are! Divider by @firefly-graphics.

Kinktober ‘22 Masterlist / Librarian!Steve Rogers Masterlist

It was everything you’d ever read about: lilies and foxgloves akin to the ones mentioned in The Secret Garden hanging just outside the back door; siding and layout reminiscent of the March family home; and a private library even Sherlock Holmes himself would have had trouble not being envious of.

It was suppose to be a dream - specifically your dream - come true, except for the fact that it couldn’t be anything further from that. Instead, it's a nightmare born from a pure, lust-filled delusion, with you and your reading log being the prime sources of inspiration.

He finds you in the kitchen this time, the man who wishes for you to call him darling, honey, Stevie my love. You’ve been drying dishes for so long the tea towel begins to wear thin, the blue material repeating the same circular motion again and again. When he comes closer you move to the island, tucking the exceedingly clean cutlery away. You don’t acknowledge him.

His breath is hot against your neck and the pressing of his chest to your back sends shivers up your spine. “I got you something from your wish list, Bookworm.”

There’s a dense thud as a freshly printed copy of The Girl Who Fell Beneath the Sea is dropped beside you, narrowly missing your hand. It takes everything in you not to tense up at the sound.

You feel a tightening at the back of your neck, the grip firm and slightly calloused as the man who once made you smiley warmly with his wonderful book recommendations now pushes your face towards the cool marbled countertop, his other fingers slipping underneath your pleated skirt - one of many he makes you wear for his viewing pleasure - to tug your panties down. You can only try to ignore how they stick for a moment before he finishes pulling them to the ground.

Steve holds no such pretence, scoffing at the sight, “I knew you needed to thank me like this, just like how you knew I needed to come home to you and this sweet pussy you used to try to hide from me.”

You nod your false agreement. Attempting to fight it isn’t worth what could happen next instead of what usually follows. Unfortunately, you learned the hard way that Steven Rogers - once the world's sweetest librarian - is a hardened veteran who has yet to forget anything he’s learned during his military career. The basement door is locked to soothe you - the night terrors you experienced after the first and only sign of guilt you’ve ever seen your captor display.

When the head of his cock pushes past your wet folds there’s a collective sigh from you both, yours damningly headier than his. Your eyes unfocus for a few seconds, your gaze drifting briefly to the petal-filled backyard before his steady thrusts ground you permanently. Sometimes you wish he’d fuck you there just so you can feel the sun on your skin, feel like more than a part to play in the story of you and him.

Fingertips dig into the meat of your ass as he fucks into you without a care in the world. You hate it when he treats you like you’re special to him. Your disgust is momentary as his lips kiss promises into your skin, your neck being slowly covered with teeth marks and precious nothings. Involuntarily your hips push back and seek your pleasure for you.

You hate how you hate it less and less.

Steve's thrusts grow more frenetic. "Good thing you know better now. My fantasy is your fantasy, Bookworm. And that'll never fucking change."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x female reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #and librarian!Steve Rogers is back #librarian!steve rogers #kinktober 22 #kinktober 2022 #bonkywobble writes

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i-fondued · 2 years

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Kinktober 2022 | Ghost - Sinners in Secret

Cardinal Copia is a possessive man, he isn’t inclined to share anything much less his particular Sister of Sin. Even if nobody in the abbey has noticed them together, she knows who she belongs to. But even some of the best pets need to be re-educated from time to time.

Pairing: Cardinal Copia x Reader/Sister of Sin x Papa “Terzo” Emeritus III Rating: Explicit Warnings: (oOohO boy ** rubs hands together **) rough oral sex, rough sex, voyeurism, google translate Italian, dom/sub vibes, bad/no aftercare, spanking, dirty talk, you know…the standards at this point

A/N: This feels like the result of a very fucky sleep schedule and the culmination of all of the dirty thoughts about the Papas drifting around. This is my magnum opus and I don’t know if I will ever be able to top this honestly (ahaha see what I did there?) Surprising to nobody I honestly think I will end up making this into a multi-parter because if I don’t get to live vicariously through my writing and watch them have a threesome I will riot against my own brain

AO3 - HERE Chapter Hub - HERE

“Sorella…”

I arched my back, rolling my hips against Copia’s as I felt his lips press against the sensitive spot by my ear. I shuttered, cupping his face and pulling him to my lips.

Copia’s hand was threaded in my hair when the sound of someone knocking on the door startled us apart. I slipped from his lap and threw myself quickly into the chair on the other side of his desk, my face flushed bright red as I fixed my habit on my head. Copia cleared his throat and adjusted his cassock before sitting in his office chair.

“Come in.” He called, a hard edge to his voice. He hated being interrupted, especially when it interrupted our time together. I heard the door open and busied myself with looking very interested in the Latin translation I had done earlier today.

“Ah, Cardinale!”

“Papa. Seestor.” Copia said crisply, his glare dark. “What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“Afternoon, Cardinal.” Sister Imperator’s voice was sharp, I couldn’t help it as my eyes drifted to try and sneak a look at her. Unfortunately for me she was too observant and her eyes locked with mine, instantly squinting at me suspiciously. “Sister…whatever could you be doing here? Aren’t you on library duties today?”

“Sorella, don’t tell me you have a…how you say? Ah! A feeling for our dear Cardinale.” Terzo teased as he slid next to me, his arm coming across the back of my chair.

My face instantly flushed bright scarlet, an uncomfortable giggle bursting from my lips. I looked to Copia for help but he had a quizzical look on his face, his hands steepled in front of his face while he rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He was leaving me here to hang in front of Imperator, bastard.

“O-oh of course not!” I laughed, panic bubbling in my chest before I started to babble. “Cardinal Copia was helping me with my translation work, he is very dutiful and attentive whenever I need help with my Latin skills. He is a very good friend!”

The three others in the room all had various looks of disbelief. Sister Imperator had one eyebrow lifted, her head tilted just barely, and the look on her face read that she didn’t believe a word at all. Terzo’s face was quirked with a funny sort of smirk, his eyebrows knitted together as if he was trying to decipher something. Papa looked at me with warmth in his eyes before looking over at the other male in the room. Copia’s face was the most troublesome.

The only way to describe it was blank, nothing on his face gave his reaction away. His eyes however..oh they spoke of my undoing. His mismatched eyes were filled with unbridled fury. They were locked on mine and I knew I would be paying for that comment. The tension in the room could have been cut with a wooden blade.

“Yes well, Sister, Papa and I have a meeting with the Cardinal. I’m sure you have some work to do elsewhere…” Imperator trailed off, gesturing to the Latin notes in my lap and on the desk.

“Yes of course, thank you Cardinal. I’ll see myself out.” I mumbled, cheeks flushed red as both men watched me gather my things quickly and scamper from the room.

As I turned to shut the door behind me, Copia’s eyes locked with mine and a chill ran down my spine. Oh I was so fucked later.

…

I spent the rest of my working hours in the library, partly hiding from Copia but also working on my various translation projects. It wasn’t till one of the other sisters who worked in the library came to drag me to dinner did I even know what time it was.

Our big formal dinners at the abbey were always noisy, especially when Papa was home with the ghouls. Tables were laid out family style and siblings mingled together with the Ghouls. I actually forgot I had been avoiding Copia and managed to forget myself, smiling while laughing at the ghoul’s antics at the table. Mashed potatoes had been flung lightly at another sibling and I let my eyes drift towards the head table where Copia sat with the older Papas and Sister Imperator.

The Cardinal wasn’t looking at me, clearly in a deep conversation with Primo and Nihil. Just as I was about to look away his eyes drifted to me. At first his face seemed to soften but then his posture changed and I could see the dark look return to his face. Before I could even think what that could mean, Terzo slid into the seat next to me. I turned to him with a polite smile and slid my gaze away from Copia. Ah, he was still sour over being interrupted.

“Sorella, how is your supper?” Terzo spoke, his voice low and syrupy. I leaned closer to him so I’d be able to hear him over the din of the dining room. He clicked his wine glass against mine and we drained our glasses together. “I hope dear Aether is not bothering you.”

“No, of course not Papa.” I smiled at him as he reached over to refill my wine glass with the bottle on our table. “It’s nice to have you all home for a change, even if it's only a quick stop. It’s been so quiet here without the ghouls.”

“It is very nice to hear you say that, Tesoro.” He teased, my cheeks flushing as I sipped my wine glass. “I too have been sick for home.”

“Do you mean homesick?” I chucked, wine flushing my cheeks even more. I hadn’t eaten much that day and I was drinking more wine than I had for a long time, feeling I needed liquid courage to get me through this. I could feel eyes on Terzo and I, deep down I knew it wasn’t another sibling who was locked on us.

“Ah yes, homesick! My English is sometimes not so good, even more after a few bottles of wine.” Terzo laughed, a loud belly laugh that caused more than a few siblings to look at us. I smiled at him but felt the heat gathering on my face. “What you say, Sorella? Care to join me for a nightcap some time?”

“P-papa?” I sputtered as I looked around me to see if anyone was paying attention to us. The other siblings were fully distracted by the rambunctious ghouls, none of them looking in our direction. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Mi dispiace, Sister. I just assumed you had been looking for esclusiva confessional time.” He leaned in, arm resting behind my chair as he whispered into my ear. “I have seen the way you look at the high table, Sister. Unless that gaze isn’t meant for me.”

His hand brushed against my cheek, causing me to jump, before my eyes locked with his. He had a slight flush to his cheeks, one I knew was mirrored on my own, and a wicked smile on his face. I blushed more, and squirmed under his intense look in his eyes.

“Judging by the Cardinale storming from the room just now, I would say those looks were not for me.”

I felt the alcohol drain instantly from my bloodstream, the blood draining from my face.

“W-what?” I whispered, Terzo’s face spread into a wicked grin, one that reminded me of the Cheshire Cat, as he rested his chin in his hand. “I-excuse me Papa…”

Without another word I scrambled out of the dining room, unsure of what I would do if I even ran into Copia. I knew he would be furious and my heart pounded in my chest. I paused in the hallway, thoughts swirling around, and tried to come up with the best plan of speaking with Copia. I knew I couldn’t do it now, not only would he be beyond furious right now but I was tipsy and I didn’t trust my mouth to not say something stupid.

Also dinner would be finishing up soon and curfew not long after that. I knew I didn’t want to be caught out of my room by then. Instead of running right to Copia’s office where I assumed he would be, I did the only smart thing I could think of. I went right back to my room where I told myself I would go right to bed, collect my thoughts, and have a full explanation and apology ready by morning. With an optimistic pep in my step I went back to my room, fully intent on following through with my plan. I slipped inside, shutting the door behind me, and turning to see a red envelope on my desk with a familiar scrawl on it.

“Oh fuck me…” I groaned, pulling the habit from my head and tossing it on my bed.

I stared at the letter for what felt like hours before I plucked up the courage to actually open it. My heart was in my throat as I saw one simple line, there was no signature but I didn’t need one. I knew exactly who wrote to me. I paused to look at the clock on my desk, it was only nine in the evening, I knew I had a few hours to get some sleep before I would follow his commands. I slipped into my nightgown and buried myself under the covers, closing my eyes and willing my heart to calm down as I squirmed just thinking about what Copia had written.

Library. Midnight. Do not wear anything under your nightgown.

Oh. Oh. I was so dead.

…

I startled awake at the sound of my alarm, glad I had thought to set it before I fell asleep. I had a few minutes to sneak down to the library so I rushed to take my underwear and bra off. I couldn’t help the flush that came to my cheeks as I felt a small thrill run down my spine. I tucked my feet in a pair of simple slippers, knowing the floors would be too cold for bare feet, and wrapped my silk bathrobe around myself.

I slipped out my door as silently as I could, noting the sound of soft snoring from the rooms closest to me. Quickly I snuck down the hall, past the other senior Sister’s rooms and past Imperator’s door. Down the carpeted staircase, the weave dampened the sound of my steps, and into the main entrance hall. I padded down the long hallway to the wing of the abbey that had the library and large recreation halls for indoor clergy events.

The library doors were closed but never locked, the other Sisters who worked the library with me knew that sometimes the siblings of sin needed a quiet place to come in the night when they couldn’t sleep. I prayed to Satan himself that tonight nobody would be inside or come looking for solitude. I opened the door slowly, wincing at the creaking of the old hinges, and slipped inside.

“Cardinal..?” I whispered, looking around for any source of light or sign that he was already here. I walked between the bookshelves, heading up the large staircase towards where I knew he liked to sit in the daytime. “Copia?”

I slipped between the shelves and looked over the bannister, looking for signs of anyone. I felt leather gloves wrap around my wrists, pinning me against the railing. I gasped and tried to turn around but he let go of one wrist to slip a hand in my hair, tugging roughly to prevent me from turning around. Instantly I had to bite my bottom lip to hold back the wanton moan that threatened to spill from them.

“Sorella.” Copia murmured in my ear as he pulled my hair tight enough that my head was resting on his shoulder. “I would have thought you would have learned after last time…”

“Co-” I started before he pressed his entire body against me, pinning my body to the railing with his hips as he covered my mouth with his leather clad hand and cut off my words. The hand in my hair let go before coming to wrap around my throat

“You will refer to me by my title, Sorella.” He hissed,the muscles in his body taut. A thrill ran down my spine, squirming against him as the railing bit into my hips. “You must be taught a lesson, no?”

Copia’s hand around my throat tightened its grip, pressing firmly against my windpipe. My breath was harsh through my nose as I exhaled and tried to suck in a breath around his glove. All I could smell was the scent of warm leather and the slightly spicy scent of the incense and aftershave Copia used. It was heady and intoxicating to me, especially with the man himself pressed up against me firmly.

“Sarebbe un piacere per me, cara mia…” He practically purred, pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. I whimpered, his hand covering my mouth came down to my hip and he squeezed it harshly.

Copia was pressed flush against me, my body practically crushed against the bannister, and I could feel his cock through his heavy cassock as his left hand began to explore my body. I felt the heat of his hand through the leather gloves as his hand skimmed from my hips, up my waist, with his fingers splayed out. Goosebumps broke out on my skin and I shuddered, my fingers gripping the wood of the bannister so tight my knuckles were white. Roughly he tugged on the belt of my bathrobe, loosening the knot till he was able to open my robe.

“Take it off, Sorella.”

“Yes Cardinal.” I whispered, voice wavering slightly as I let go of the bannister to slip the silk down my shoulders and let it pool at my feet.

I still hadn’t been allowed to turn around and I attempted to turn my head to try and catch his eye. There was a loud crack as his leather gloved hand made contact with my ass. I hissed between my teeth, facing forward again and gripping the railing, while squirming slightly to try and get some relief for the steadily increasing throbbing between my legs.

“Did I say you could turn to me, cara?” Copia sneered, his hand on my throat clenching slightly. I panted, heart rate buzzing in my ears as my eyes slipped closed.

“No, Sir.”

“Do not remove your hands from the railing till I tell you, yes?”

“Yes, Cardinal.”

I felt both of his hands leave my body for a moment and I whimpered at the loss of contact, body aching for his warmth back. That was till I felt him lift the hem of my nightgown, tucking it around one of the flimsy straps. While the front hem kept me covered, my entire backside was exposed to Copia. His leather clad hands ran from my thighs and up to cup my ass before coming around under the thin cotton to skim over my stomach, the muscles clenching as they passed, before he curled around me again. He ground his hips into mine, his cock brushing against my ass, and I moaned as quietly as I could. His hands paused in their movements, pointer fingers just barely brushing the underside of my breasts as my nipples pebbled and hardened against the fabric of my nightgown.

“This is meant to be a punishment, Sorella.” He tutted, disappointment clear in his voice. “What kind of lesson are you learning if you are enjoying it, hm?”

My cheeks flushing deep red as his hand brushed against my ass again, a quick snap of his wrist and I felt the skin begin to sting from the bite of the leather. I hissed, my bottom lip clenched between my teeth, as he spanked me again. I rolled my hips back to give him a better angle and clenched my hands so tightly to the bannister I would be surprised if I didn’t leave marks from my nails in the wood. His hand came to soothingly rub the welt that I knew was developing, I rocked back against it as I seeked out the comfort of his familiar hands. In a flash, his hand was tugging on my hair again, arching my neck back towards him as I panted.

“Sei una ragazza cattiva, Sorella…” Copia purred, his voice thick with arousal as he teased me. He kicked my feet apart, widening my stance till he was pleased with it. “I will have to punish you extra for your trasgressione tonight…”

“Please, Cardinal.” I begged, heart pounding in my chest as I started to slightly panic. I didn’t mean for that to slip out. I felt him chuckle, his chest pressed against me as he ground against me again.

“No, no Dolcezza…we are beyond the point where you can beg with me.”

I felt Copia move away from me again before his hand spanked me hard, three times in a row. I hissed a breath between my teeth, trying my hardest to not cry out in case anyone was in the halls. The last thing I needed was for someone to catch me here like this with the Cardinal.

My legs were shaking, barely able to hold my weight up. Copia’s grip on my hip as he spanked me was the only thing holding me up right now. I leaned on the banister, hands still gripping the wood tightly, and hung my head as I fought to keep as silent as possible. After a few more smacks to my poor red ass, he paused and rubbed the skin soothingly. I felt his hand slip from my hip to dip between my legs, brushing against my dripping slit. I gasped harshly and bit down on my bottom lip to stop from crying out as his gloved finger teased me.

“So wet for me,” Copia murmured in my ear, his tongue darting out to trace the shell of my ear. “I am flattered, bella…”

“Cardinal…” I whimpered as his other hand, the one not running back and forth with featherlike pressure over my cunt, snaked up my body teasingly. His gloved fingers paused to brush against my hardened nipples, teasing the sensitive peaks, before sliding up my chest and wrapping around my throat.

“You will need to earn your orgasam, Sorella.”

“S-sir?”

“Get on your knees.”

With a speed I knew normally I’d feel embarrassed over, I turned around to finally look at the Cardinal. His biretta had been placed on the bookshelf to his left, his hair already falling in his face. The look in his eyes was wild and predatory. His mismatched eyes, white iris especially, looked like they were glowing in the lowlight of the library. His face was flushed and he seemed to have a slight dewy quality to his skin in the evening light, it dawned on me that he was sweating from the exertion of holding himself back. Furious Copia was like an animal, just waiting to be unleashed.

I looked up at him obediently, hands twitching in my lap, as my ass ached from being pressed against my calves and heels. I was waiting till I was told what I could do; I knew better than to just jump him like the little gremlin in my mind screamed to do. Copia smirked, eyebrow cocked, as he ran his hand across my cheek and petted the top of my head.

“Good girl.”

A shiver ran down my spine at his low tone and the look in his eye, the heat pooling in between my legs as I squirmed on the floor below him. I watched as he leaned slightly back against the bookshelves, gesturing to his obvious tent behind his cassock.

“Prove to me you have earned it.”

I didn’t need to be told twice, my hands drifted from my lap to run up his thick strong thighs. Slowly I unbuttoned his cassock from where the buttons started around his mid calf and up to his waist. I brushed against his hard cock as I passed his crotch before pushing the heavy wool coat open so I could begin undoing his trousers. My heart was beating wildly as I unbuttoned his pants and freed his cock, hard and hot in my hand.

Slowly I ran my hand up and down his length, teasing the tip with the pad of my thumb. Copia groaned quietly, rolling his hips forward to add some friction. Feeling encouraged I tightened my grip and began to run my fist up and down before slowly teasing him with the tip of my tongue. I ran it across the head of his cock, tasting the precum that had beaded there, before pressing my tongue flat against the underside and taking him into my mouth.

Copia groaned as his hand buried in my hair, fingers twisting at the scalp to tug sharply. I flinched slightly at a particular sharp tug when I began bobbing my head up and down while hollowing out my cheeks. But the ache of my scalp has nothing on the burning lust in my core, hips rolling and squirming as my knees begun to ache. I looked up at Copia and felt my cunt clench at the look on his face, a whimper bubbling up my throat.

His head was leaning back but he locked his eyes with mine, his breaths coming in sharp pants as I continued to suck and tease his cock. Copia’s eyes were hooded and dark with lust, his pupils blown wide as they bore into my own. His cheeks were flushed and his clergy paint around his eyes looked slightly smudged. I watched him bite the tip of the middle finger of each glove and tug them off with his teeth, tossing them on the shelf where his biretta sat. His warm hands came back to rest against the sides of my head as he tangled his fingers in my hair.

“Bellissima…” He groaned before, with little warning, he held my head steady and began to fuck my face.

I relaxed my jaw, taking him as deep in my throat as I could but occasionally gagging as he hit the back of my throat. I moaned deeply, feeling his nail scrape against my scalp as his thrust stuttered slightly. My hands ran up and down his thick thighs and reached up to cup his ass, nails digging into the fabric as I tried to keep my balance. I could feel the spittle dripping from my mouth, my eyes beginning to water with every time I gagged. I must have looked like a mess to Copia but I didn’t care.

I whimpered around his cock and fought the urge to slip my hands between my legs to touch my core. I needed relief from the painful ache. My heart was thrumming in my chest, my breath was coming in little pants when I wasn’t choking from Copia’s brutal pace. I felt his cock twitch against my tounge and I knew he was close. I felt his grip on me tighten as I looked up at him with lust clouded eyes, tears streaking down my cheeks, his face looked positively feral as he grunted down at me.

“Swallow it all, Sorella.” He snarled before thrusting as deep as he could manage, my nose pressed against his trousers as he finally finished in my mouth. “Like a good girl…”

I could feel his cock twitching as he emptied himself down my throat, I could barely keep up and I felt some drip from my aching mouth. I looked up at him with watery, adoring eyes with a cheeky smile as I released him from my mouth. I used my fingers to wipe up the combinations of fluids from my face, licking them clean while keeping our eyes locked together. His hand cupped my cheek gently, his thumb toying with my bottom lip.

Before Copia could say anything I heard the sound of the library door hinges creaking open. Panic ran right through me as I scrambled to grab my robe and tuck myself into Copia, who was busy tucking himself back into his trousers and righting his cassock.

“Sorella..?” The familiar Italian lift of Terzo’s voice made my heart rate spike into cardiac arrest. I was going to die, let Lucifer open up the pit of hell and swallow me up. “Are you in here?”

I started to step towards the banister at the end of the alcove, intending to reveal myself to Papa just so he wouldn’t search for me, but Copia grabbed my wrist. I looked back at him with a curious look on my face but he didn’t say anything, he pulled me over to him and turned us so my front was pressed against the bookshelf and he was pressed against my back firmly. I had turned my head to look over the edge of the bannister, in the low light I could see Papa peaking around the shelves downstairs, I prayed to every saint below that he wouldn’t come upstairs.

I jumped out of my skin when I felt Copia’s bare hand cup my cunt from behind, pulling me back flush against him. I looked back over my shoulder with wild eyes, but the Cardinal didn’t say anything. Instead he pressed a finger to his lips, indicating to me to be quiet. My heart was sputtering out of control at this point; I was either going to pass away from being caught by Papa out of bed with a senior clergy member or from the feeling of Copia’s fingers teasing me.

His fingers teased my slit, slipping just barely between them and lifting away before they would brush against my clit. I was quietly panting, my breath barely deep enough to keep the oxygen circulating, and I felt Copia lean forward to whisper in my ear.

“Quiet, Sorella. You would not want our Papa to catch you like this would you?” He purred, lips brushing against the shell of my ear. He punctuated his comment by finally letting his finger just barely brush against my clit.

I barely kept the very obvious wanton moan in my mouth, instead a very light whimper slipped out. Copia covered my mouth with his hand sharply and I felt my soul leave my body as my cunt clenched and I felt some of my fluid drip out of me and onto Copia’s hand. Neither of us moved at first, our heavy breaths being the only thing I could hear as my ears rang in the silence. The seconds ticked by and just when I thought we’d been in the clear…

“Sorella?” Papa’s voice came from downstairs but much closer than before. He was nearing the stairs, there were only a few places left to check downstairs before he’d have to come up. My heart was in my throat, I thought I was going to throw up.

Copia seemed spurred by this and his fingers began to slip back and forth from my clit to my clenching entrance, just barely slipping in before sliding away to swirl around my clit. If his hand hadn’t been covering my mouth we would have been found by now. I was biting the inside of my cheek so sharply I was positive I was drawing blood. I was panting, eyes clenched closed tightly as I rolled my hips back against his teasing fingers searching out any friction or relief. I was leaning heavily against the bookshelf, squirming as my nipples brushed against the wood grain.

“Hm…is it possible my little tesoro wants to be discovered by Papa?” Copia’s voice was deadly and sharp as he whispered in my ear. “Dai suoni della tua fica direi di si.”

My eyes rolled back in my head as his fingers circled my clit torturously slowly, faintly I could hear the wet sound of my dripping cunt as he moved his fingers lazily. I loved when Copia spoke Italian, he had been doing it less and less frequently as he adjusted to the siblings of sin here who didn’t know how to speak it, and the shit knew it turned me on. My heart was pounding in my chest, I was gasping breaths through my nose as I panted with Copia’s hand still firmly covering my mouth. He curled around my body and I could feel the slowly growing bulge under his cassock returning again. I couldn’t help the moan that slipped from my lips, barely muffled by Copia.

My life as a Sister of Sin flashed before my eyes as I heard the first footboard of the stair creak. Terzo was heading up the stairs, I looked out over the edge to watch him. He couldn’t see me yet but if he came all the way up and turned around he would get a full view of Copia pinning me to the bookcase. Copia’s fingers dipped inside me, curling slightly as he thrusted them lazily. I felt the rope of my orgasm pulled tight, I was so close and self-preservation was the last thing on my mind as I watched Terzo slowly come up the stairs.

He didn’t turn around, instead he headed to the mezzanine on the other side of the large library. Copia was entirely focused on me, whispering dirty things in both English and Italian in my ear as he nipped and sucked at my neck. My legs wouldn’t stop shaking, heart thumping away painfully, as Copia’s thumb brushed against my clit as he thrusted his fingers.

“Such a supple peccatrice you are, Sorella…” He murmured while tracing the outline of my ear with his tongue, I whimpered, my hand gripping his wrist so tight I was surprised he didn’t cry out in pain.

I looked out over the bannister to the other side of the second level of the library and my heart almost stopped completely. Terzo stood, leaning against the banister casually as his eerie missmatched gaze locked on mine. I felt my face turn bright red, my whole body shuddering as he watched me. Copia hadn’t noticed, most of his body was turned away from that side to watch the main walkway for Papa. I arched my back sharply, moaning into Copia’s hand as his fingers picked up their pace. My legs shook violently as my pleasure began to come to a head. I could hear my blood pulsing in my ears, but my eyes never left Terzo on the other side of the library.

“What would Papa say if he saw his sweet Sorella now, hm?”

I could see the smirk on Papa’s face from where I writhed as one of his hands that was holding onto the bannister drifted to grip his cock through his trousers. His white gloves made it blatantly obvious he was caressing his cock over his black trousers and I couldn’t help the flush of pleasure at the idea of Terzo getting off on watching me. I watched as his eyes closed for a moment and his head rolled to the side, obviously pleasure written on his face. My spine cracked as I arched against Copia, rolling my hips against his fingers and moaning. As if the heavens decided to dump more on me at that moment, Copia’s thumb frantically rubbed against my clit as he punctuated his command with his fingers thrusting violently into my cunt.

“Come for me, amore.”

I honestly thought I was going to black out as my orgasm slammed into me, shudders running up and down my body as I rolled my hips to ride his fingers. Papa’s face lit up as he realized I had come in front of him, a wicked smile on his face as he winked at me. My eyes rolled back, head landing against Copia’s shoulder and I lost sight of Terzo. I dug my fingers into his wrist, nails leaving little half moon marks in the skin as I felt Copia press a gentle kiss to my temple.

“Good girl, Sorella…” He purred and I bit my cheek so hard I felt the blood drip to prevent my desperate moans.

I felt weak, my legs unable to hold me up anymore so Copia helped hold me in place as the aftershocks rolled through me. When I looked over to where I had spotted Papa before, he was gone. I felt the blush on my face deepen before the creaking sound of the library door hinges startled me. I knew then Papa had left and there was a tiny part of me that was disappointed he didn’t stay.

I felt Copia relax just slightly before pulling back from me slightly. He reached forward and positioned my hands on the bookcase, bending me at the waist, and placing my palms flat on the wood of the shelf. I jumped when I felt the head of his cock brush against my tight opening, running up and down to cover himself in my wetness.

“I have you all to myself now, tesoro.” Copia grunted in my ear, sliding inside me slowly.

I bit down on my bottom lip, a whimper slipping from my lips. I felt him angle his hips as he filled me with his length, stretching my walls as I arched back and angled my hips for him. One of Copia’s hands gripped my hip tightly, controlling the speed of his slow entrance into me despite all of my squirming. The other was curled around my throat, possessively holding onto me. After another torturously long minute I felt his hips press flush against mine and I felt so deliciously filled deeply by him.

My eyes rolled back as I shuddered against him as he barely moved his hips, torturing me with his shallow rocking. I stuffed my balled fist between my teeth in an attempt to muffle my moans unsuccessfully. Copia’s hand left my hip and before I could react I felt him slap my ass right on top of where my previous welt sat. His hand that had been around my throat came up to cover my mouth instead, muffling the keening sound that had bubbled up out of me.

“Quiet, cara mia. You wouldn’t want Papa to come back looking for you would you?” The Cardinal hissed in my ear, his hips starting to move more aggressively and snapping just the way he knew I loved. Heat flushed in my belly and my cheeks felt rosy, my cunt clenched at the thought of it and I felt Copia pause before chuckling darkly. “Sorella…quanto perverso.”

I panted as his hand moved from my mouth to grip my shoulder, pulling me back roughly to match his more aggressive thrusts. He spanked me again and I cried out again, far past giving a shit on who found us like this. He felt so good, his cock rock hard inside me and my legs quivered as the heat of my lust began building in my belly again.

“C-cardinal, please…” I begged, for what exactly I wasn’t sure. I couldn’t help but whimper when he spanked me again. The crack of his palm on my skin echoing in the quiet library.

“Do not ever forget who controls you, who controls your body, Sorella.” He groaned in my ear, voice dangerously low. “Do you think that your Papa could bring you this much pleasure?”

A breathy moan spilling from my mouth was his only answer, I didn’t trust my mind to put sentences together as I focused on the pleasure he spoke of. His fingers dug into the taut muscle where my neck and shoulder met as he pounded into me, pulling me back to meet each of his thrusts. I shuttered against him, my nails digging into my palms as my heartbeat pounded in my head.

“Answer me, bella.” His voice was tight, punctuating his statement with a particularly sharp snap of his hips. I cried out, feeling tears welling in my eyes at the intensity.

“N-no, Sir.” I whispered hoarsely, arching my back as my orgasam began to build. His hand on my hip slipped between my legs to lazily brush against my clit and I moaned again. “It’s only ever been you, Cardinal.”

“Si, Sorella, and there will not be another. I do not share.” He hissed and I felt the tears begin to spill down my cheeks, from frustration or maybe embarrassment when remembering Papa had already seen me; I wasn’t entirely sure. “Not even for Papa.”

“I’m so close, Cardinal.” I said, whimpering as he spanked me again. “Please sir…”

“Please what, dolcezza?” Copia’s voice was silky despite the wild pace he sat with his thrusts.

My chest bounced with the force he fucked me, my hips and ass aching from his grips and spanks. I was so close and I didn’t know I could hold off what felt like an inferno. When his hips stuttered slightly I knew he wasn’t far off either, cunt clenching his cock tightly at the thought.

“Please let me come…” I begged, nails digging into my own skin as I felt the flutter deep inside me as my orgasam threatened to spill over. “Cardinal please.”

His thrusts became more sporadic, his finger sliding against my sopping wet cunt and brushing my clit more urgently. My breath was wild, panting like I had spent a mile running, as I moaned a little louder than I meant too. Copia’s hand moved from my shoulder, covering my mouth and pulling me back flush against him. My back arched almost painfully as he began to thrust wildly into me. My hands gripped his wrist by my mouth, nails digging into his skin, his other hand came up to wrap around my throat, squeezing a warning as I fought to stifle every noise coming from my mouth. His cock hit a sensitive spot deep inside me and I felt my eyes roll back in my head as my orgasam held back by a fraying thread.

“Please.” I repeated over and over like a mantra behind his bare hand, tears spilling from my eyes and running down my cheeks and over his fingers. I felt delirious, my heart felt like it was going to explode, and just when I thought I would pass out between the lack of oxygen and the muscles in my body fighting back my orgasam Copia spoke two words that pushed me over the edge.

“Now, amate.” His words were hissed and sharp in my ear but they were punctuated by him biting my most sensitive spot on my neck, sucking hard and running his tongue across the broken skin.

None of this really fully registered to me as my body felt like it had been pulled taut by some unseen string suddenly as I came undone in his arms stronger than I ever had before. My toes curled, eyes clenched tightly, fingers digging my nails into his skin. I shuddered deeply, hips rolling back against Copia’s violent thrusts as he fucked me through my orgasm. I felt him shudder, cock twitching as he thrusted a few more times before he too toppled over into the abyss with me. I felt him fill me with his seed, moaning broken Italian in my ear as I slouched forwards against the bookshelves bonelessly. He crushed against me as he thrusted weakly through our aftershocks, his chest heaving against my back as I dimly registered the feeling of him slipping out of me.

“Bellissima, tesoro.” Copia murmured, pressing gentle kisses to my exposed shoulders. “You have been such a good girl tonight…”

My face flushed at his praise, squirming slightly under him as his hands wandered to my waist. I knew he wanted to keep going but I could barely keep my eyes open.

“Copia…” I murmured, turning my head to look back at him. “I need to get back to my rooms before we actually get caught.”

“Si, si. I understand.” He mumbled before sighing heavily. He drifted away from me, taking a moment to right his cassock which had a large wet stain from where both of our fluids had smeared on him. He flushed slightly before moving his belts around to try and cover it as best as possible. “Come, let me walk you back at least.”

I turned, reaching to the floor to pull my bathrobe back on, and smiled at him sleepily. I cupped his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips, pulling away before either of us could get carried away.

“I think it would be more suspicious if I was found to be out of bed with you, don’t you?” I teased, eyebrow furrowed at him. He shrugged sheepishly and gave me a wry smile.

“Cannot blame a man for trying to get back to your room, eh Sorella?”

I was happy his mood seemed to return more to normal, I took his hand as we slipped from the library and made our way quietly to the main entrance where he cupped my cheeks with both hands and kissed me quickly before I could stop him.

“Goodnight, Tesoro.” Copia whispered against my lips and I felt butterflies pool in my belly at the warmth in his eyes.

I was tempted to toss my own advice out the window and drag him back to my room myself but he slipped his hand from mine and scurried down the hallway where senior male clergymen had their own rooms. I practically floated back to my room, despite all the bruises and marks all over my body. I had started to open my door when a voice startled me, my soul almost leaving my body at that moment.

“Ah, buona serata, Sorella.” My head whipped to the dark at the end of the hall as Terzo stepped out from the shadows.

He had his hands in his pockets as he casually leaned against my door frame. His hair was slightly messy and he had a slight flush to his cheeks. My mind wandered to what could have caused that at this time of night and I knew my cheeks were flushed.

“P-papa…” I greeted him, head tilting in respect as I clung to my robe slightly. “I was just getting some air, I’m going right back to bed now.”

“Hm,” He eyed me, knowing full well I was not getting air, and smirked at me. His hand drifted up and caressed my neck. “I did not know that air bit back, bella.”

I shuttered and looked down at what caught his eye, a massive bite mark that looked more like a welt. I could feel the slight indent of teeth around the outside of the mark. My eyes looked at his mismatched eyes as they drifted across my face, a knowing smile on his lips.

“I hope you sleep well, Sorella.” He purred, leaning in close to whisper in my ear. “I am sure you will since you seem to be quite saited. Maybe next time I can be of some assistenza…”

A shudder ran through me and heat pooled in my belly, my eyes wide as I mumbled a flustered good night to Terzo and slipped into my room. I could hear him chuckle as I leaned against the wood door, his expensive italian leather shoes clicking on the marble floor as he walked away. My heart was pounding a million miles a minute as I tossed my robe over the chair at my desk and threw myself in bed, willing myself to fall asleep instantly and to ignore the pounding of my clit.

#Ghost #the band ghost #cardinal copia x reader #papa emeritus x reader #terzo x reader #cardinal copia #papa emeritus lll #my writing #sinners in secret chapters

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lxh-arts · 10 months

Note

hi! do you know if theres any other tls of Lanxi Zhen out there? i checked on mangadex and the previous scanlators stopped at ch 88 😞

Unfortunately, ASSlators is the only group we know of who was scanlating Lanxi Zhen and they have been on hiatus for a long time now. If anyone knows another site or group that has been up to date with translating the series please let us know!

If you are still interested in reading the series in its original language, you can find them all on Bilibili! Take note that the three most recent chapters will be locked behind a paywall. The chapters are also uploaded on the official LXH Weibo account, but the Bilibili link will be easier to navigate.

For more information, check out this thread from the ASSlators twitter account!

#not art #asks #information

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fotibrit · 11 months

Text

"EDITH (Even Death Isn't Too Heavy)"

In a fit of boredom, I wrote the first chapter of this prompt. Please let me know if its worth continuing writing this one :)) (1700 words below the "continue reading" , youve been warned !!)

When Tony died, everything was supposed to stand still. The grass, somehow, would sense the shift and would freeze over to pay respect. The clouds shouldn’t show their face at all, unless to rain on the horrible, horrible world that now stopped turning in the wake of such a tragedy.

Everything was supposed to stand still. The world should stop.

But it doesn't. It seemed everything moved at double-speed, with Mister Stark gone. Of course, there was a world to clean up. Half the people on Earth had appeared in thin air, and entire cities needed to be turned into hospitals. Mass confusion reigned. Everyone turned to the avengers for answers, and nobody noticed the body of the man who had saved the world, whisked away in a black bag.

That's all he was. A body in a bag. Everything, everything that Tony Stark ever was and ever would be, was within that bag. The bag that Peter would never see again.

There were parties. Spider-Man was asked to a dinner at city hall, a “Celebration of Life Revived”. They asked, should he accept, that he give a speech. The city missed the vigilante, he was told. People were concerned, not having seen the web-slinger soaring through the skies after the battle. They wanted to see him, admire him, thank him for everyone he had saved.

They even offered transportation.

There was no need. He couldn’t attend. He would be at a lake house, on the outskirts of New York. He had a funeral to attend. The “Life Revived” would have to make do without him.

Peter tried to avoid anything to do with Tony Stark for the months after his death. He was tired, far too tired to deal with the fallout of his mentor's death. There was paperwork to be sorted, meetings with SHIELD, interviews requested, and there was the small issue of Tony’s workshops. Nobody wanted to step foot in any of them, let alone clean them up. This wouldn’t be an issue. They could stay, collect dust, become an ancient artefact. Peter was willing to turn a blind eye, forget that the rooms ever existed, distract his mind as every crumbled up bag of chips on the lab floor became a relic of a better world in which Tony Stark lived.

It doesn't matter. See if Peter cares. It's not like anyone would use Tony’s lab again. Tony’s dead.

Dead, and never coming back. His voice fades from Peter’s memory as Peter stands, frozen, in front of the lab door.

Unfortunately, Peter may not care if Tony’s workshop turns to dust, but SHIELD certainly does, and nobody has the energy to fight that battle with them at the moment. Valuable work needed to be preserved, some things needed to be guarded under lock and key, a few things would go to a museum, per Tony’s will.

So, Pepper asked Peter to clean it out. “Just glance over everything. See if anything stands out. God knows I don’t understand his little language, but if he wrote ‘weapon’ in big red letters on anything, burn it before SHIELD sees it, yeah? Or translate it to ‘high tech prosthesis’. He would have loved that.”

Peter was the only one for the job. There had been a few days in which everyone panicked, thinking nobody would be able to preserve Tony’s work. He had insisted on using his personal language in his notes, a language Peter privately dubbed “Teaspool” after failing to find a way to pronounce “TSPL” (or, Tony Stark’s Private Language”). Even some of Tony’s codes used symbols known only to Tony’s brain and computer.

And Peters. Tony had taught Peter Teaspool. This fact had been private for years, with Tony preferring to keep the depths to which he trusted the boy private, and the boy following his mentor’s lead and keeping quiet. When it was first discovered that much of Tony’s work was unreadable to an English speaker, Peter had debated revealing his ability to understand the language. He ultimately decided that he wouldn’t reveal himself, he would maintain his last secret with his late mentor, but Morgan had other ideas.

She showed up at his bedside one day. He was always in bed. Peter Parker, drowning in grief and blankets, was very easy to find.

“Mommy is crying because she can’t read Daddy’s books. Can you read them to her?”

Peter agreed to step foot in the lab, but not much else. It’s true that he learned to read Teaspool over the years, but that doesn't mean he’s willing to spend months translating everything for SHIELD.

He’s not sure he’s even willing to spend minutes.

The door handle is cold, far colder than it ever was when Stark was alive, or at least it seemed as much to Peter. That might, in retrospect, have something to do with the fact that Peter had laid in bed, warm and comfortable and utterly numb to the world, for the last few weeks. Everything felt colder.

He wouldn’t wait to go back to bed.

The room was cold too, and creepily silent. Completely devoid of the whirring, the music, the laughter and called out nicknames that typically greeted Peter when he walked through this door.

That nickname would never come again. He had already had his last. It wasn’t enough.

“FRIDAY?” Peter spoke into the silence, more for his own comfort than a pressing need for the AI. He needed to know someone else, even a robot, was somewhere closeby. His voice cracked from misuse. It wasn’t that Mister Stark’s death had caused him to go mute. It was more like that very things were worth speaking for, in a world devoid of his father figure.

Speaking only made his life better. Peter didn’t need his life to be better. He needed his life to not be his own.

“Hello, Peter.” The AI responded. Even she sounded cold. Everything was cold, now.

“Can you… play music? Anything? Please?” The room was haunted. Peter was sure of it. He had known it back when he frequented this lab for the express purpose of bothering Mister Stark while he worked. The lab was haunted by the spirits of projects that Mister Stark forgot about, Peter used to say. The half-built gadgets lined the walls, staring at the pair of humans working on another gadget, which would (in turn) be dejected as well. “This lab is a haunted graveyard. I’m surprised the electricity hasn’t revolted against you!”

Mister Stark had laughed, back then. If only Peter had known how right he would be. It wasn’t electricity, per se, that killed Stark, but Doctor Strange said it was the magical equivalent. It looked like sparks had coursed through the mechanics veins as he lied, waiting for death.

The machines won in the end.

Music started playing. Classical. Something happy. Far too happy, for this room. Still, it was better than nothing.

Peter’s bare feet wandered over to the main table of the lab. He typically wore lab-appropriate footwear in this room, but then again, it’s not a lab anymore. It's a graveyard.

The table was piled with papers, no clear signs of an organisational system presenting themselves. Blueprints for designs that could change the world were filed with Peter’s own chemistry homework, all filed right on top of the desk in a haphazard pile.

This should be fun.

It felt wrong, somehow, to sit in the chair that was right next to the desk. Mister Stark was probably the last one to sit on it. Who was Peter to take that away from the universe? He dragged over another chair and began rooting through the pages.

—--------

Peter almost didn’t check the desk drawers. Tony never used them for anything more than snacks, and he didn’t know if he could bear finding a half- finished snack in there, knowing the inventor had opened it and would never finish the bag. Such a small thing, but the pressure in Peter’s chest had been building ever since he first started translating Tony’s handwriting, and he couldn’t take anything more.

But he checked anyway. Maybe part of him wanted to break. And break he certainly did.

A notebook. Bound in leather, stamped in the bottom left corner with Tony’s initials, a well used notebook had been pushed all the way to the back of the otherwise empty drawer. It was filled with a mix of english and symbols, and before Peter could start to translate, the english section caught his eye.

It was a diary. Or at least, a personal journal. The small english section described Tony’s difficulty with keeping “Mark Two” a secret from “Obie”, and was dated 2009.

As Peter flipped through the almost-full journal, the handwriting became more and more illegible, and more of the man's personal language took over the pages, until Peter hit the back cover.

So it started in 2009. Peter flipped to the last page, intending to find out exactly when Tony had given up on the journal, only to see his own name staring back at him from the last entry.

Or at least, it might as well be his name at this point.

“TO ROO” it said, in big bold english letters on the top of the page.

The following paragraph was written in the messiest handwriting yet, and in Teaspool. As such, it took over twenty minutes to decipher, and another twenty for Peter to read through the tears and disbelief.

Because what it was saying…

It couldn’t be.

“TO ROO

The wizard says there's only one option, so I’m in a corner here. I’m working on it, kid, but it’s looking like you will have to wait a while to see me after we get you back. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Just stay strong. I’ll be back soon. I can’t wait to see you again, kiddo. Trust me. I'll have to push through worlds to see you again, but even death isn’t too heavy.

P.S. Don't show the others. If they knew, I would be stuck. Keep it quiet. Wait for me.”

Three hours after Peter entered the lab, Morgan came looking for her brother at the request of her mom. Peter, notebook clutched in hand, murmured the phrase “even death isn’t too heavy” as he was led back to his bed.

#irondad and spiderson #peter parker #marvel mcu #avengers #iron man #tony stark #irondad #spider man #spiderson #the summary of one of my wips

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burlowbeanie · 1 year

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Ok. My prev reblog got me thinking more about Anastasia and samael and they are just so fascinating. A few thoughts below:

Character names are important in the locked tomb series — that’s been well established from the end of gtn, when Muir literally holds our hand and points that out to us. They indicate themes, plot points, relationships. Significantly, we don’t get another naming explanation in ntn and there’s nothing but pronunciations for Anastasia and Samael for htn, leaving us to fill in the blanks. I think that the gtn appendix about names was more than just a fun add-on; it was Muir telling us how to piece the plot together. I’m going to build from some theories I r seen circulating/respond to them with a close reading of the names.

Now, on to the og ninth pair. (I know samael might not have been ninth because it wasn’t definitively founded until his death, but you know what I mean.)

Anastasia: first thing that comes to mind is the Russian princess. I’ve seen theories that Anastasia is the bones in the corner of Alecto’s tomb, which I find convincing. I’ve heard theories that she’s done something like Pal and might be coming back.

Anastasia, missing Russian princess, subject to countless theories and myths and animated movies about her possible return. Only to have her bones finally discovered in a basement. (It’s not confirmed which ones were hers out of her and her sisters’ remains, but all of them are accounted for.)

I don’t know if Anastasia is coming back. But frankly, I doubt it. She is gone. Anyone claiming to be her in Alecto is more likely to be an imposter.

Now, Samael. The first thing that stands out about is name is that it’s one of those -ael angel names. Not surprising, given the impact of Christianity/Catholicism both implicit in the text and, after Nona, now known to explicitly be something influencing the thoughts and actions and persons of many of Jod’s crew (especially Cristabel and Jod himself tbh).

Now, initially that was all I knew. I may have been raised Christian and been, unfortunately, a theology geek, but I do not have a encyclopedic knowledge of all angels ever. Knowing stuff about angels other than, like, Michael and Gabriel always seemed vaguely heretical probably due to boring American Protestantism conditioning, idk. But, I am expecting some deep theological cut with the name so I go to look it up. And boy oh boy was I not disappointed.

So Samael is an archangel who mostly shows up in Jewish texts and lore, not Christian/Catholic stuff. He’s 1) an ambiguous figure, sometimes a fallen angel and sometimes not; 2) often called the angel of death; 3) sometimes associated with Rome/Christianity as the embodiment of sin/danger/god’s wrath against Israel; and 4) in most depictions responsible for Eve taking the fruit, having ridden the serpent “like a camel” and convinced her to do so (because he doesn’t like humanity? To spite heaven? To give them knowledge? Idk how many of those are actual traditions of interpretation.) I unfortunately do not know enough about Judaism to unpack that in full, and I hope that I am not completely misinterpreting something, but it’s fascinating that the “angel of death” is linked to the same place where the “death of god” is laid to rest. Then, there’s the link with Rome/Christianity and how much the necromantic empire reflects those things. The thing that is making me so excited though is his association with the temptation of Eve, the Serpent, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.

Now. That’s interesting. There’s a character named Angel, or something that translates to that. And she has a dog named noodle. And another fascinating element of tlt it’s use of memes. Several others have pointed out the baffling and one-off connection between snakes (some even suggested the the biblical serpent just from that) and Noodle, with the literal quote “Noodle. Danger” from the Angel, and how it seems to reference the meme-form way of referring to snakes as “danger noodles.” We also know that the Angel is passing down something, possibly the implant, that is an important message. (Angels are, of course, messengers of god).

I think that what they are passing down is Samael, in some form. The Blood of Eden himself. The angel of death. The messenger. The serpent’s companion, the maybe-fallen. And I think that he is going to return in Alecto, as we encounter the death of god.

I always wondered why Anastasia wanted Jod there when she attempted lyctorhood, if that was the truth, how she could have discovered a potentially successful mode of true lyctorhood and not have suspicions about him. I think that “doing the ritual more slowly” wasn’t all she did. I think she potentially found a way to transfer Samael’s consciousness, let him piggyback like Gideon or Pyrrah in htn. I think she got him safe, or at least partially so, when Jod killed him. She wanted to trick Jod into thinking he’s gone or something maybe? I have no idea how the Blood of Eden would have gotten involved, but based on their goddamn name invoking Eden they are definitely linked to him.

If any of the original lyctors or cavaliers are revealed to still exist in Alecto the ninth, it will not be Anastasia, the red herring, the dead bones in a basement finally discovered and proven dead after so much speculation. It will be Samael, the angel of death, the temptation within Eden, the companion to the danger noodle serpent.

#locked tomb #tlt #the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #alecto the ninth

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normal-thoughts-official · 1 year

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On Bheem acting as a "mediator" between Ram and Seetha

[Disclaimer: this is not about shipping wars, it's just an analysis because I find the dynamic interesting. Whether you ship rambheem or ramseetha or both or neither is irrelevant for this, and beside the point.]

Click here to read this post on Ao3

It always drew my attention that most of Ram and Seetha's interactions seem to be mediated by Bheem. That is, have him as a middle man; there is the obvious part where Bheem brings Ram back to Seetha, but it's more than that. Ram also only writes to Seetha because of Bheem. When they first reunite, it is Bheem who joins their hands together. Even during Etthara Jenda, there is no moment with just Ram and Seetha; Bheem is always there. In fact, there is a brief moment with only Bheem and Seetha, but none with only Ram and Seetha. It seems that Ram and Seetha only ever meet through Bheem, as if he's the thread connecting them.

I thought that was interesting and I think I'd like to expand a bit on that. At first I thought it was just because the movie is obviously focused on Bheem and Ram and their relationship and the other characters are... Just not that explored outside of their relationship to the core characters and/or the plot. But I think there is also some symbolism there that is worth exploring.

When Ram leaves Seetha, he tells her that a part of him will always be with her. I'm working with the English translation here, because unfortunately I don't speak Telugu, but I did check the Portuguese, Spanish, and Italian translations and they all pretty much translate the same, so I'm going to assume that the translation here is accurate and communicates everything it's supposed to communicate. That means that leaving Seetha is also leaving that part of him behind. I mean, the symbolism is pretty obvious here. He takes his pendant, which was a single circle, and breaks it in two. One part he takes with him, another he leaves with her. From that moment on, Ram is incomplete.

And I think that the part that he left with her isn't just, generically speaking, half of him; I think the part that he left with her was his own humanity.

Here's why.

When Ram leaves his village, he takes two things with him: his grief and his sense of duty. That is all he has in Delhi. Well, other than his uncle, but his uncle was already in Delhi before Ram went on his mission, so I don't think he counts as something Ram "takes with him". I really doubt Ram would have asked Venkateswarulu to come if he hadn't already been in the police force before Ram was.

When we first meet Ram, the only emotion he allows himself is anger, and even then, only in private where no one can hear him. Even Venkateswarulu seems unable to really reach him. Ram is fueled exclusively by his rage, his need to do something to alleviate his grief, and his promise. He has no meaningful connections with anyone, he doesn't allow himself his feelings, and he needs to keep everything that makes him himself locked away so he doesn't blow his cover. Ram is living in nearly complete isolation and completely detached from his own feelings; he doesn't even allow himself his grief, because it would get in the way of his mission. It serves as fuel and a reminder of what he has to do, but it's not something he is actually allowing himself to feel in full.

So what is missing? He is missing his sense of community. His history, because Seetha has been a part of his life since forever, and she is also the embodiment of his connection to his village as a whole. His love and his joy, because everything that was meaningful and dear to him he left behind with her. And as time goes by... More and more, he leaves his ideals, too. By the time we meet Ram, he isn't really fueled by his need to free the land; he is fueled by his grief. When he falters, he doesn't think of the free world him and his father envisioned; he thinks of the despair he felt as he watched him die. He is doing this because he is, in a way, trying to provide meaning to his family's death, trying to save them symbolically, trying to alleviate his survivor's guilt and fulfill his promise. He gets so fixated on the weapons he forgets they're a mean and not an end. Therefore, his beliefs ended up staying with Seetha as well.

So... Community, history, love, and beliefs. Combined, I'd say that's pretty much everything that makes us human. Of course, pain is part of the human experience as well, but without those... There isn't much else left for a person.

And look, I'm not saying that Seetha makes him good or that she exists to take care of him and bring him back to himself, I want to make that clear. This isn't about anything in particular Seetha does or should do to or for him; this is about the fact that Seetha was the last good thing Ram allowed himself, and therefore his distance from her is also his distance from his own needs. The further he is from Seetha, the further he is from himself and his humanity.

I think there are at least two scenes that add credibility to that thesis: the first and most obvious one is when he is torturing Lacchu and his wristband snaps. When Ram first gets to the point of no return, when he is doing the most inhuman thing you could conceive, and he's doing it with gusto, too, because he's angry, he completely loses his connection to her. And then it immediately cuts to Seetha not only waiting for Ram, but actively asking a kid to scout and check if he is there. She is unable to find him, unable to connect again; and then it is made pretty clear that Ram has strayed too far from her. It is immediately after that moment that we learn he hasn't written to her in all these years, and one of the villagers even asks her if Ram remembers her at all. I also think it's interesting that it's the rest of the village that voices the concern for Ram and the sense of betrayal, and not Seetha; not to mention that they went to her to ask what is happening with Ram. This further cements Seetha as a representation of his connection to his own past and people: it is through her that they seek him out, and therefore, she is the link between them.

(Again, I'm not saying that she is literally the one doing the work of keeping them together; I'm saying that the movie has her, symbolically, embody the entire village. So when we are reminded of his distance from her, we are also reminded of his distance from them, and therefore, from himself)

The second scene is when he, finally, after all these years, writes to her. This is the first time in the movie where Ram actually voices his thoughts, instead of just screaming and drowning in his own memories. We know what Ram is feeling and thinking, but he never allows himself to acknowledge it. When he does, he does it through talking to Seetha; because she is the one who keeps the part of him that allows himself to feel, the part that is idealistic and that is doing this for love for the motherland rather than hatred for the British. The part that remembers what he is really fighting for.

And not only does he seek himself in Seetha, he is also only able to connect to Seetha when he stops denying himself. I actually think that's the most important part. He has spent four years isolated from her, without any sort of communication; he lost his way to her because he locked out his own humanity to be able to survive being a double agent. It is only when he unlocks it, really allows himself to feel and think and question, that he is able to find his way back to her.

And what allows him to unlock his humanity and search for her in the first place?

Bheem.

That's where his mediation comes in.

Because Bheem was the first one to crack Ram's walls at the very least since he went to Delhi, but I'd risk saying that really it's the first time since he lost his family. He kept everyone at arm's length; he threw himself into his mission as a way to avoid actually processing his grief. Of course he still had his village and Seetha, but you don't just become this repressed and guilt driven out of nowhere. Even as he's saying goodbye to Seetha and the village, Ram doesn't once smile. We see his face tight and nearly blank, the same way it was when he was first introduced, fighting that mob. There is determination, but otherwise, he is completely closed off. And he is leaving alone.

And then he meets Akhtar, and this motherfucker becomes unrecognizable.

I've joked before that he must have pulled his cheek muscles after he met Akhtar, but it is seriously a jarring difference. He spends the entire Dosti montage grinning from ear to ear, save for the "don't eat with your left hand" moment and the parts where they aren't actually together. We have never seen him give even a tight lipped smile before, and suddenly the man can't stop laughing. We have never seen him express a clear emotion, and suddenly we have him not only emoting but also showing vulnerability. Even after the montage, Ram is frequently grinning at Bheem, and he is shown with his body language relaxed when we've only really ever seen him tense. In fact, not only tense, but so tense he is frequently shaking.

It's not even just the expression of positive emotions. Meeting Akhtar also gives us our first glimpse of who Ram truly is and what he actually believes. The best example of that is the events in Naatu Naatu. For the first time ever, Ram rises up against the British. Even if it's in a small way, it's an act of open defiance that we hadn't seen before. He taunts Jake, he mocks him, he openly laughs at him (which is also curious, considering that Bheem was the one that Jake hurt; but Bheem is largely ignoring Jake, while Ram is going out of his way to antagonize him). The part of Ram that is purely rational and mission driven would have thought it better not to draw attention; so when Ram chooses to take that risk and be defiant, he is also remembering what really matters to him: protecting his people and fighting for justice. And that takes the form of protecting Bheem.

Therefore, those parts of him that had been kept away suddenly come crashing back when he meets Bheem. Bheem helps him find his way back to himself without even trying, and if he is finding the way to himself, he is finding the way to Seetha. Not to mention that it is because of the fact that he couldn't live with betraying Bheem that he wrote to Seetha in the first place. Bheem helped him find the part of him that loves and rejoices and is driven by more than just rage again. So, when he turns his back on Bheem, he is also going back to denying himself his own humanity. But he can't actually do it this time; and so, when he finds himself unable to keep repressing himelf, he writes to Seetha.

Even before that, however, Ram's connection to Seetha is only shown to the audience through Bheem, and the link between his relationship with Bheem and his relationship with Seetha is shown from the very first time we learn about her.

We are first shown the pendant during the Dosti montage. Ram was wearing it before, of course, but the movie kind of went out of its way to hide it. In his introduction, he is straight up not wearing it. The first time he is shown with it is when he is destroying that poor punching bag, and he nearly immediately wraps his hands and wrist in tape that covers it:

[ID: Screencap of Ram punching the bag, where you can see his knuckles and wrist are wrapped in tape. End ID]

Then, in the "RRR" title page, they didn't include Ram's pendant in the drawing of their hands together, even though they kept Akhtar's wristband:

[ID: Screencaps of Ram and Bheem's joined hands when they meet; you can see that Ram is wearing his wristband. Then, when it transitions into the drawing, his wristband is no longer shown, but Bheem's is. End ID]

They're not always hiding it, and you can frequently see it on Ram's wrist if you know to look, but they don't draw attention to it and actively avoid accidentally drawing attention to it.

(But also, interestingly enough, it is first visible in the scene where Ram is talking to Venkateswarulu; and the scenes where it is most visible before Dosti are the ones where Ram is talking about killing governor Scott, and when he's helping Bheem save the child. I think this is a subtle way of hinting that this is who Ram truly is; even though he is pretending when he says that he's going to kill governor Scott, he is still closer to himself and his ideals than he was when he attacked that mob. And even more so when he helped Bheem do what they both are sworn to do: protect their people.)

Then, during the Dosti montage, they film it directly for the first time. We see Ram playing with it and acknowledging it, and we learn that it is significant to him. And then they won't stop filming it after that.

This isn't a coincidence; the pendant is the embodiment of his connection with Seetha, and, therefore, with his humanity, as previously stated. The fact that it is shown during Dosti, which is also when we first see Ram acting fully like himself, goes to show how much Bheem's friendship is helping bring Ram back. I mean, for starters, just sitting there fiddling with it and smiling is something I can't imagine pre-Bheem Ram doing. Nevermind the fact that he lets Bheem see it and doesn't even try to hide that moment of vulnerability from him.

After that, the pendant is used to highlight Ram's struggle with figuring out what he wants to do (which really means figuring out who he is) after he betrays Bheem. For example, when Ram grabs Bheem, we get a shot of him crying blood, and the blood falls right beside the pendant, in a shot that shows almost nothing but these two things:

[ID: A drop of blood falling on Ram's hand, right next to the pendant. You can seee only Ram's wrist and a bit of the holy thread wrapped around his palm. End ID]

(Also, this time, the illustration of their hands does include the pendant)

[ID: The illustration of Ram's hand that immediately follows the previous shot. The pendant can be seen wrapped around his wrist and over his palm. End ID]

Further cementing the idea that the wristband represents the last of his connection to his humanity is the fact that, in the flogging scene, Ram is wearing it on his left hand.

In every other scene, it is on his right hand. That seems to be something they were very careful about. But throughout the flogging you can see that it is on the left. In fact, they even open the scene with a shot of it:

[ID: Ram driving to the square. He is holding a whip in his left hand, and the bracelet can be seen on his wrist. End ID]

Throughout the scene, it is hard to see the bracelet because of the uniform's long sleeves, but there are a few shots that confirm that it's on his left wrist:

[ID: Ram with the whip on his right hand, pulling it back. His left hand is in front of his body and the bracelet is visible. End ID]

And at the end of the scene, we can see it clearly:

[ID: Ram cradling Bheem's bloody face. His left hand, on which you can see the pendant, is holding Bheem's chin. End ID]

It's too consistent to be an accident, especially considering how it never ends up misplaced in the left wrist in the other scenes. On top of that, the movie brings up the fact that the left hand is considered dirty (in the scenes where Bheem's fake mom and Ram's real mom tell their respective children not to eat with their left hand).

Disclaimer for this part: I'm neither Hindu nor Indian, so I looked up as much as I could on the right/left significance, because I believe people should make an effort to understand the implications that don't speak directly to their experiences, especially when it comes to culture and race. If anything I say is inaccurate or offensive, please let me know, and I'll edit it. If there's anything else I'm missing, feel free to add it as well. I also assume that the cultural associations with the right and left go beyond religious significance, since Akhtar's family is Muslim and not Hindu and they also enforce the "no eating with your left hand" rule. But Ram is Hindu, so I'm also using sources that talk about its significance in Hinduism. I don't mean to imply that the two are interchangeable by that.

I found many different significances associated with the right and left sides in Hinduism (right is male, left is female; right is submissive, left is contrary; right is yourself, left is your spouse), but the most important one seems to be that right is sacred and pure, and left is profane and dirty (because that one was mentioned in every paper I found, and it was usually the first to be brought up). Hence why it's important that you eat and give offerings with your right hand, and do "unhygienic" tasks with the left. This rule also applies to Islam, which explains why Akhtar's fake mother made the same comment. The fact that this aspect of the right/left duality is brought up in the text also implies that this is the most important one in this context.

So, if the left hand is dirty and profane, and the pendant is Ram's humanity, and the pendant is on Ram's left hand in this scene... I think what the movie is telling us is that in this moment, Ram is forsaking himself. He is going against everything that he truly is and believes, and his own feelings; he is even condemning himself, in a way, because this is the kind of thing that there should be no turning back from. In that moment he is the furthest he could be from everything that is holy, and good.

(Also, from a Watsonian perspective, we know that Ram has been taught that the left hand is dirty by his mom; if he chose to change the placement of the pendament in that moment, I think that speaks volumes on how he's feeling about himself. I also think it's possible that he did it because he couldn't stand to whip Bheem with the same hand that held his reminder of Seetha).

I also find the "right hand is yourself and left hand is your spouse" significance relevant here, although secondarily. I know Ram and Seetha are not married yet, so I'm not sure if Ram's left hand already "counts" as representing Seetha, but even if it doesn't, I think the fact that Ram is putting the embodiment of himself away from the hand that represents himself and on the wrist that is supposed to (at least eventually) represent Seetha goes to show that he truly left everything that matters about himself with her. His soul is no longer resting within himself because he turned his back on it. So, it is all with Seetha. If he had left half of his true self with her before, once he whips Bheem, he fully abandons himself. All that's left of the true him is in Seetha's memories.

This is, I think, further enforced by the fact that, although we get enough shots of Ram's left wrist to confirm that it's there, what the movie focuses on the most during that scene is not its presence on the left wrist, but its absence on the right one. Ram's right sleeve is always slightly pulled up in that scene, so we can see that the wristband is not there, like the movie is constantly calling to our attention that something is wrong with Ram. On the same vein, during Komaram Bheemudo, the framing very carefully hides his pendant in most shots. They go out of their way to leave it out of frame, even in the closeup shot of Ram wiping his tear (which he does with his left hand, where the wristband is at the time).

Here are some examples of both the framing and the sleeve being ridden up:

[ID: Ram picking up the spiked whip. The shot cuts right where his left wrist would begin, but shows most of his right arm. The sleeve is ridden up til nearly mid-arm, so you can clearly see that he's not wearing the wristband. End ID]

[ID: Ram first hitting Bheem with the spiked whip. His sleeve is still rolled up, and his wrist is in the foreground, without the wristband. His left hand is behind his body, out of frame. End ID]

The entire Komaram Bheemudo scene focuses on the lack of the wristband, aka the lack of Ram's own self in that moment. He is doing everything he is supposed to be fighting against, and betraying himself in the process. So the absence of him is felt even more acutely than the displacement itself.

Then, when Ram decides that he is going to save Bheem, the opposite happens: they go out of their way to keep the wristband within the frame. Even when Ram first shows up in that scene, it is framed in such a way that the part of him closest to the viewer is his right wrist.

[ID: Ram walking into the scene where Bheem was flogged. It is shot from under him and to his right, so his right wrist is the thing closest to the camera. You can see the wristband on it. End ID]

Even when he is being filmed from the left, the wristband is still visible:

[ID: Ram being filmed from the left side as he talks to his uncle. He is shown from a 3/4 position, so we can see the wristband on his right wrist even as it is turned away from the camera. End ID]

And even when there are other objects obstructing part of him, the framing is such that you can always see it:

[ID: Ram looking at the blood on his hand. He is shown from within a circle of barbed wire. There is an X right beside him, but it is still framed in such a way that Ram's pendant is visible as he raises his hand to look at it. End ID]

In fact, during that scene, we get a closeup of the pendant for the first time since Ram betrayed Bheem:

[ID: Ram touching the ground, which is wet with Bheem's blood. The pendant, back on his right hand, is visible on his wrist, resting over his palm. End ID]

And the trend continues: you don't see his wristband at any point while he is talking to Governor Scott, but you do see it many times when he is rigging the weapons to save Bheem (complete with several closeups, but they are very quick). Very interestingly, when he puts Malli in the car and drives towards the hanging point, the framing is such that you can see the wristband, but only partially. Ram is being careful, but still giving himself away; he is too kind to Malli, he is too tense as he's driving, he's showing too much of himself. He's still trying to hide it, but it's enough for Scott to see.

[ID: Ram putting his hand on Malli's shoulder comfortingly as he puts her on the car. The shot is framed so that the seat covers half of the wristband, but the other half is visible. End ID]

Then Ram tries to enact his plan to free Bheem, and again the pendant is not only in frame, but also always turned towards the camera even when it means being in different positions in relation to Ram's hand:

[ID: Ram when he's impaled on the tree. He throws his right hand up, and the framing ends right where his wrist does so we can see the bracelet. It is turned towards his inner arm. In the second image, he has fallen to the ground. Again, the pendant is on frame, with the pendant turned towards his outer arm and falling over his hand. End ID]

And listen, I know that I sound insane, but this is consistent. Obviously Rajamouli didn't frame every single shot with the wristband in mind, but there is a very clear pattern where the wristband is invisible when Ram is pretending to be a British officer, and visible when he's not. That's not even only after Bheem is whipped; in retrospect, they were also doing that in the first few scenes. Ram was not wearing the wristband when he was fighting that mob; he was when he was punching the punching bag, but it was hidden. Then it was shown when he was with his uncle, and even more when he was talking about killing governor Scott. When he was lying to Lacchu, it didn't appear much. Then it made a comeback when he helped Bheem save the child, and then in the Dosti montage we had a lot of attention drawn to it (not only in the obvious moment where he talks about the pendant, but also in others; for example, in the shot where they are talking and laughing, Ram's pendant is visible, despite the fact that he has his hand in his pocket).

[ID: Ram and Bheem walking side by side. They are both laughing, and Ram is looking slightly down. His hands are in his pockets, but the wristband is still fully visible. End ID]

So, I think the framing matters here. If the flogging scene was drawing attention to the absence of the pendant on Ram's right wrist, these other shots are drawing attention to its presence. The more of the real Ram we see, the more of the pendant we see, again directly making the link that the wristband = Ram's humanity and true self.

Interestingly enough, it is only after he has officially saved Bheem that we get a clear closeup meant to show only the pendant again:

[ID: Ram lying on the grass after saving Bheem. He is out of focus, and his hand is extended towards the viewer. The pendant is falling over his palm, plainly visible and in focus. End ID]

If denying Bheem was denying his humanity, saving Bheem was saving it; it is back into focus, plainly visible and no longer locked away. I also find it interesting that this is when we finally get the flashback of when he gave the pendant to Seetha in the first place. At this point there's been 2h15m worth of movie and despite the fact that the pendant is very clearly referenced several times, we only get to see that moment right then. I think this implies that this is the moment when he finally connects with the part of him that's missing; it also drives extra attention to the relationship between saving Bheem and recovering that part of himself.

Not only that, but this is the first time we get a flashback that shows Ram driven by purpose, and not grief.

Ram has several flashbacks throughout the movie, but they are always of his father's death. His grief is the only thing pushing him forward. It is his grief that leads to him betraying Bheem (and I find it interesting that the pendant is also not visible in that scene, despite the fact that we get closeups of Ram's bloody right hand. I had kind of been assuming that they would show the pendant then, since it seemed to be connected to his purpose, but they don't. Now, I think that's exactly the point. The pendant is Ram's purpose, and he doesn't really have it in sight right then. He remembers the pain and the blood; he doesn't remember the ideals and hope that he had when he chose that path. He doesn't remember that this is about freedom, he only remembers that this is about a promise). It is his grief that he is thinking of when he's practicing shooting; whenever we see Ram's past, it is always focused on that one day.

The scene where he gives the pendant to Seetha is the first time we see a flashback with adult Ram. And in it we get to see Ram being tender (although he's still very serious); we get to see him talking about courage; we hear the "Vande Mataram" chant, a scream of love for the motherland rather than trauma and resentment; we get to see Ram being larger than life, motivated, focused. I mean, hell, Seetha puts a tilaka on his forehead. That is supposed to help one's focus, health, and mental stability, yes; but it's also related to the search for self awareness. Ram leaves with Seetha his humanity, and Seetha says goodbye by trying to connect Ram deeper with himself. Obviously, that doesn't last. But once again, the link that his connection with Seetha and the pendant = his connection to himself is strengthened.

And so, reliving that memory means finding that connection to himself again. It means finding his drive, his courage, his motive. It seems that, finally, Ram has remembered himself. And he achieved it through his love for Bheem, who, just like Seetha, now embodies his ability to connect to others, fight for what's right, and be himself.

I believe that this is also why, after that scene, the pendant stops being a wristband and becomes a necklace.

[ID: Ram in prison, groaning and throwing his head back. Due to the movement, you can see the pendant is now on a necklace. End ID]

A wristband is easier to see; it is something that you can always bring back to your line of sight. Wearing the pendant on a wristband, Ram is keeping it as a reminder; he is trying to make sure he doesn't forget who he is and what he's fighting for. We even see it serve that exact purpose during the torture scene with Lacchu. But a necklace doesn't need to be seen. Putting the pendant on a necklace means keeping it closer to his heart. At this point, Ram has internalized the pendant, and doesn't need to look at it to remember who he is; it's already a part of him. Because once he remembered who and what he's fighting for, and found again his humanity and drive, he didn't need it as a reminder anymore.

It's also worth noting that Seetha wears her own pendant as a necklace as well; when Ram puts it on the same place, it implies that their connection is stronger. As if they are no longer displaced and there is no longer the chasm between the Ram Seetha remembers and the Ram Ram sees.

Additionally, the pendant was originally a necklace before Ram broke it and gave it to Seetha:

[ID: Ram talking to Seetha before he leaves the village. He is wearing the pendant, which at this point is a full circle, as a necklace. End ID]

Then, immediately after he tears it, it becomes a wristband:

[ID: Ram spreading his arms as he gets on the boat that will leave his village. This is after he has broken the pendant, and he is no longer wearing it as a necklace; instead, we can see that he is wearing a wristband. End ID]

So, it being a necklace again also implies that he is going back to his roots, reconnecting to who he was and what he wanted when he first went on this mission.

Which is why it's extremely interesting that Bheem is the one to give Ram back the other half of the pendant. You'd expect it to be Seetha when they are reunited, but instead, Bheem takes it to him before he brings Ram back to Seetha. Which in turn reminds me of what he tells Seetha before going to rescue Ram:

"I will bring you back your Ram even if I have to lay down my life."

Again, I am going with the English translation, and I don't know what they say in the original, but I did once again check the Netflix translation and the translations in other languages that I speak/understand and they all kept the "your", except for Italian, so I am going to assume that this translation is accurate and close to the original Telugu.

This wording striked me as odd when I first watched, because why is Bheem emphasizing that Ram is Seetha's in that moment? Obviously they are engaged, so, you know, makes sense, but why is he emphasizing it? Rewatching it now, I think I get what he means: it's not just that he will bring back Ram; it's that he will bring back the Ram that Seetha knows. The real Ram. It's not enough to bring back Alluri Sitarama Raju; he is telling her that he will bring her the Ram she knows and loves, the one who's a rebel and who's whole. Which is why it makes sense that he takes Seetha's half of the pendant with him.

That is another part that first striked me as odd, because it seemed to directly contradict another thing he told her:

"Seetha shouldn't go looking for Ram. Ram should come to wherever Seetha is."

So why bring the pendant with him before reuniting Seetha and Ram? If this was simply about bringing Seetha and Ram back together, it would make no sense for Bheem to do this. Which is why I think that it's more than that; when he brings Ram back the pendant, when he puts the two halves back together with his own hands, he is making Ram whole again. Not just because he is saving him from death, but also because he is offering Ram his forgiveness and friendship again; and Ram needed that in order to move on from what he did, and find the person that he tried to bury and nearly forgot about these last 4 years.

In other words, the union of the two parts of the pendant is less about reuniting Ram and Seetha as people, and more about reuniting Ram with what Seetha represents; which, in turn, allows him to come back to Seetha as the Ram that she knew and missed.

(Of course, Ram will never go back to being exactly the same, and the pendant will always have the marks of the break; but it's rebuilding itself, and that's what matters)

And that is a natural conclusion to their relationship, because Bheem had been helping Ram find himself since the moment they met, as shown in the Dosti montage and the jarring differences between how Ram was and acted away from Bheem versus near Bheem. Not to mention Naatu Naatu, the first and only moment where Ram didn't just stand by and watch as his people were done injustice before he decided to save Bheem. The Ram that Seetha knew would never have come back to her if Bheem hadn't been there to help him find his humanity again. Which is why Bheem is the one to put the pendant together, and also why he is the one to put Ram's hand in Seetha's when they reunite; because without Bheem, Ram wouldn't have found his way back to her, because he wouldn't have found himself again.

I also think this is one of the reasons Bheem also puts a tilaka on Ram's forehead; of course, there is the fact that he is giving Ram the getup that he is known for, but remembering how Seetha had once put a tilaka on Ram's forehead, I think the fact that Bheem does it the second time also reinforces the connection between his relationship with Bheem and his relationship with Seetha, as well as the idea that he is reconnecting Ram with himself, just like Seetha tried to do when they were first parted.

Bringing Ram and Seetha together meant reconnecting Ram with his true self, and because Bheem was the one who reminded him who he was and what he was fighting for, he needed to be the one to do it.

#rrr #rrr 2022 #alluri sitarama raju #komaram bheem #rise roar revolt #bheem #raju rrr #rambheem #ramseetha #meta #rrr meta

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thepowerisyouth · 4 months

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MONEY / FINANCE STRESS CONTENT WARNING, this next line is unfortunately quite stressful about money so this was an important warning for me to add:

This is also less for the random strangers on the internet who have no reason to trust my advice but more for the 10-15 people I know personally who trust my money advice based on prior experience and Ive sent them my blog link in the last month or two

US stock market is about to tank. On a global perspective its stupidly overpriced because markets like China are hitting 5 year lows (as in we've increased our stock market over 2x since "COVID lows", but their market is even lower than it was then.

Timing is hard but it is entirely possible yesterday was the peak of the market. Might also not tank for 6 months.

Market psychology is fucking weird tho so please absolutely dont 'short' anything, which is basically the same as 'buying puts'. Michael Burry nearly bankrupted all his friends, family, and random investors by insisting on 'shorting' things based on knowledge of impending crisis.

Just sell everything. I mean literally everything. Bond etfs might go up but youd have to have eyes glued to the charts to sell in time. Gold wont do, neither will bitcoin. Their negative correlation to stocks isnt really a thing anymore.

Get every etf, stock, whatever into cash in the brokerage account, then move it out of the banks/brokerage firms and into something physically in front of you because we are, in fact, in another 'historical period of bank runs' its just not quite at the peak yet.

Not trying to increase anxiety beyond nessecary-- its just that any, single bank can immediately freeze your money-- leaving it up to the Federal Government to pay you back-- and it might possibly be the case that youd have to rely on whats called a "bank bail in" to see your savings again.

Not a fun situation to be in, even if it wont happen to most people its just safe practice to do this during a "historical period of bank runs"

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

This blog is basically my diary of my thoughts (suprise suprise). But Im an open book, privileged (but poor) little white boy with complex societal/generational abuse and very little home problems so lets fucking go theres a whole mormon cargo van to unpack

Definitely recommend tags Im terrible at them.

---

To those reading this, if you have ever met me in real-life or on the internet than you have taught me varying degrees of information which can be randomly retrieved by my brain at any time depending on current CPU performance. Thoughts of my loving husband have occupied my headspace probably 95% of my time since 14 so he has absolutely taught me at least 100x more than anyone else in the world.

When I say "I", oftentimes Im thinking about "me and my husband", or even sometimes "me and my friends/family", or even sometimes "me and society"--- but I am not always 100% aware of the current headspace environment and/or beliefs of the minds of those around me without feedback

---

There are currently over 8 billion individual varieties of the global human language spoken within the mind. Lets start translating them all. Misunderstood words become mean labels.

I fucking hate mean labels

"Math wiz" = racism and/or classism and/or gender shit. Fuck that shit

When a person is niched off into one part of an 8 billion population human society, it becomes impossible to not "live in a bubble". Bubbles change in size constantly even if not visibly observed. Bubbles can be different sizes depending on your current day-to-day thoughts of your own society. Bubbles must pop. Enlightenment implies life only gets better the more times ya pop and lock it

My path away from purely mathematics, logic, and scientific theory began when I met my husband, and for the first time in my life it became important to me not to be an asshole to everyone around me

Ive been told (only after I started dating my traumatized husband tho and helped him heal a lot) that I'm a natural communicator-- and all my life I found myself listening and learning to everything and everyone around me trying to understand both their and my own motivations-- then I like to garble them up and spit 'em out. My memory recall ability is wonky tho and fluctuates highly with nutrient intake-- I'll get into that later

I wish I could have a million years to read every blog on tumblr. I really do. Connecting & communating is extremely important for understanding one another but it takes time

I had an extremely unique childhood (who hasnt lol), enough so to isolate myself quite a lot through sheer dumb luck. My mom is also everyone's favorite school teacher so of course I was learning a lot from a young age. Luckily I glued myself to the first person who wanted to glue themselves to me equally & we grew exponentially closer to eternity

If its still not clear: my husband and I are bored and love chatting with people, but like most internet loving freaks my mouth don't work sometimes well but my fingies do. My ears got fluff a lot but I got eyes for LEDs like a hawk. Wish they werent LED tho

I also have a naturally short sleep cycle (i.e. extra time for this), and I really wont be offended or weirded out by someone reading through and liking 20+ or whatever of my posts at once randomly. Stories are supposed to be read in chunks, and I think of this blog as a story & also workspace for my thoughts that Id love to see which chapters everyone has read through. Also I love (and only respond positively to) positive feedback, yet also suggestions for ways to improve my "theorums". As in, good faith discussions are totally welcome on any post.

For my 50 year old parents reading my blog so lovingly in their limited evening time-- you can sort by tags to see what topics your familiar with, if you play around with the search function while on my page. Mom. Show dad how to do it

In the very, very bottom of my blog I dont even think I managed to tag shit properly-- but its the roughdraft workings of the philosophy, as well as my own logical framework for answering lifes questions. Its 2 months ago so I might not even be writing according to my own works down there anymore idk I change fast sometimes

Last thing for now here is that I was always criticized by teachers for not showing my work, and for not reviewing my tests before turning in, and I pushed back hard because nearly every time I went over and corrected a mistake-- I saw I most often got it right the first fucking time on a pure hunch. I act on impulse when I'm not meditating mostly for efficiency purposes because I believe I'm correct, but remain open to emotionally positive feedback so I can help remove all doubt.

-------

This might turn into my 'life story' post, as its already going there. Heres what I have so far in the way of my knowledge of my family before I was brought into existence, and my "earliest memories":

Family context:

I dont know jack shit. Nobody talks about it at all.

Here's my own observations Ive made using the framework and perceptive filters I was given--

My whole family is white Texans.

Ancestory is slaveowners of course, further back is a very likely direct parent-child descendent line from the most famous inbred british royalty of the 13th century i.e. King John, whose brother was the arab genociding Richard.

I would call my immediate family as upper poverty class. Its more like poverty with extra privileges cause mental health stigma was the only thing holding them back not other shit too.

As children we had a lot of very privileged opportunities because my parents made a lot of sacrifices to try and bring us back up the class ladder. Lets look into that generational trauma issue

My dads parents (born in the early 40s, dont know the year exactly. I think '43 or '44) were more upper middle class, pretty high income. Owned an insurance business that was very successful by the early 2000s at least. My grandpa is described to me as a "monster" and "violently abusive". I have a single memory of him screaming at me as a young child and I was cowering under a desk, so I really believe it. No other stories at all to provide context.

-- I gotta split this section off I realized I wrote the next thing about post-me context Ill need to move this part lower down later--

My grandpa got early onset dementia, my dad didnt notice in time, and my grandpa bankrupted his successful company and lost several million of dollars to "scammers and sexy ladies."

My dad found out around 2015-16 or so. He told me a little bit after telling me my grandparents were getting divorced. My dad managed to scrape together about $200,000 which is being sued for by the IRS actively.

(He split that money in two, and entrusted me tell him how to invest half in safe value stocks that I handpicked as well as a calculated risk allocation to bonds which we sold for 30% profit the second the market crashed. He gave the other half to a brokerage advisor. I never met the advisor but saw the results. Dont get me started on how the other dude did with that money-- we started this endeavor in January 2020.)

Personally I also dont believe that its possible to spend an entire fortune on scammers and strippers, so Id love to see his books and figure out what the hell went wrong with that asshole. I have a hunch I know something more than anyone else ("Enron", guys, we're talking about an insurance company in HOUSTON, in the 2000s) but I will never be sure without the books.

----

Back to other family--

I do not know a single thing about my grandma on my dads side. She raised me quite a lot, but yeah I literally have only heard her life described to me as "she was a housewife"

On my moms side, my Mimi (also born 1940s but slightly younger so I think 1946 or 1947) came from a divorced, upper middle class family. In 1964-65, She and her step mom both got knocked up the same year so she watched her divorced dad remarry to said step mom when she was 18-19 and getting a shotgun marriage herself, so you can imagine what that was like. The "biological" of the two moms was a very good mom and very queer from what I hear. She died when I was a baby, from lung cancer. Thats all I know. My mimi raised me quite a lot, nearly equally as much as my mom did

My mom's dad, my Papa, came from a rural farming family in East Texas. Dont know much else of anything, but he and his siblings were named "Billy, Bobby, and Betty". As in, they are what everyone likes to call "hicks"

Moving onto my direct parents now. I know a little more about them of course, but since we're getting closer in age to the present-- I think itll be easier to describe my understanding as common stereotypes. If its unclear what I mean definitely feel free to ask, but I'll probably say "I dont really know"

Not much else is relevant other than knowing that my moms family was the mormon one, but that as soon as my dad was love-bombed by the church he joined to. Mormons were also different in the 90s I'm told.

My dad struggled with being one of the "crazy schizos" of the 90s. As in, very traumatized, upset, and gaslit by the government and his parents. Must have done a damn good job dealing with it by the time he was in his late 20s and I popped out cause he was never a "bad dad" to me at all. Definitely yelled and was more angry at times, but less than any other friends parents Ive ever met, and from what I remember he came into my room at night and apologized to me literally every single time within like 5-10 minutes. I know pretty much nothing about him pre-me. He was a tradesman my whole life and specialized in remodeling kitchens & bathrooms (the 'dirty work of construction'). All his initial clientele were the rich people my grandma lived near and was friends with.

My mom would have been extremely queer-presenting and posting on tumblr if born in the year 2000, but was born in early 70s, and was a raegan teen in high-school in Texas during the satanic panic-- she presents completely cis, straight, but has body dysmorphia issues. Thats about you need to know about those issues I'm sure my tumblr folks can assume the rest and be perfectly correct. Cause thats about all I know too and I'm assuming the rest about my own mother

--- Earliest memories

I think a lot of people face doubt about their own earliest memories, maybe hearing the way I connect the images of these events in my head to my emotions I felt will help others do the same.

----

Two disclosers about me & my current healthcare discoveries before moving on

1) My only "major" childhood trauma is loneliness. I have a partner now (started dating early high school, nearing 10 years together now) who was just as lonely and we are glued to each others side constantly, and have made our life work great that way. So don't feel too bad reading this, I'm only able to write it down because Ive healed that trauma and can dig this stuff up with no issues to validate the emotions I felt even as a child

1) I believe I have a genetic trait that is only just getting discovered. There are something like 6 discovered mutations that hold this similar trait so far, and its just basically chronic insomia.

It being a genetic trait tracks with how my mom describes me as never settling into a normal sleep pattern at 6 months old, having absurd amounts of nightmares and death anxiety keeping me up at night as a child, and I still dont sleep at any given time. I average 2 hours less sleep than my husband, who averages 7-8 now that he isnt actively being abused at home.

Going to get sequenced but even if negative I'd probably just be a 7th mutation, as they only found the other 6 genes via case study.

The scientists whove discovered it call it "Familial Natural Short Sleeper", if you desire to look it up. They describe the trait like its the best possible thing in the world. Well... terminally chronic insomia is not the best thing in THIS world thats for sure.

---------

My "earliest memories"

These arent ranked by time accurately of course. Took enough effort digging through my brain to turn them up, not like Ive got a 2003 calendar stuffed in here as well.

I did do my best to sort by first memory but it also might be sorted by the order at which I recovered the memories as being one of my "earliest" when I was a child and asked such things

1. Pure emptiness. I can only describe it as dissociation. I can remember nothing about the environment around me, except feeling suddenly sucked out of it, seeing only darkness, feeling almost a ringing in my ears and the deepest dread possible. This same feeling followed me in life for a little while, but started to take more visual shape when I was an adolescent, until at some point I would see myself sitting in a chair alone in a room that is infinitely sized but that slowly gets darker the further out you go. I cant remember what exact "real-world" event caused this feeling to ever happen each time it did. I just can remember having it happen occasionally when I was awake and doing things. Definitely dissociation. (If you are willing to believe me further I think its just probably "lights out" and being scared of that)

1. Riding a mattress down the stairs. I kind of remember two images, one is the tunnel vision of going high speed down the stairs and the other would be from looking back up at the stairs when I was done going down. Totally fun, probably my first rollar coaster ride. I might remember my siblings laughing too but it wouldnt be because I can remember the actual laughing-- but I can remember feeling the joy of being in a group of people laughing. At the time, my parents were selling the house so thats why I also remember it being a completely empty carpeted room that we were riding down into

2. My brother smashing his head repeatedly into the refrigerator for 'fun' and someone saying "wow he has a hard head" or something along those lines. I was learning english I cant remember exactly what they said but that was definitely the meaning I took from their words. I think this memory is strong, because I was truly very curious as to why my brother was just running at full speed, head down, and headbutting a hard surface. The words someone said after that must have been one of my first 'answers'

3. Watching my siblings play in rare Houston snow. Not much remembering there actually. Probably just thought it was mezmorizing to watch as I just really remember a picture and feeling peace

4. Will add more later.

#mental health #trauma #early memories #life story #family #generational trauma #wealth disparity #memory #self healing #child psychology #diary #math #classism #privilege #cycle of abuse #behavioral economics #psychology #philosophy

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corrodedseraphine · 1 year

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dos oruguitas | #2 welcome home

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

chapter summary: When you return to Hawkins after unsuccessfully trying to arrange your life in Indianapolis, it seems to you that time in the town has stopped. Only when you step your foot in Forest Hills Trailer Park again you find out that the changes are more serious than you think.

the story is also avaliable on ao3

previous chapter | masterlist | eddie munson masterlist | general masterlist

thank you @i-me-mine for listening to my rambling and helping me with the ideas to this chapter, you are the best! 🥰

If you have any ideas what would you like to see in the story feel free to tell me about them in comments or in my inbox which is always open for you guys! Thank you so much for reading!

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"Welcome home, kid." Your dad said as you passed the Hawkins sign smiling warmly. You had mixed feelings, excitement blended with fear. You hadn't been to this place for more than three years, but the longer you drove past the streets of the town you noticed that in truth almost nothing had changed, except that they had somehow managed to get rid of the damage caused by the "earthquake."

Robin had found her real life in Indianapolis, nowhere did you see her happier, in every possible way. She found a very well-paid job at a translation agency, through which she met the love of her life, Rosa, who turned out to be the daughter of the office cleaner. The two immediately fell madly in love with each other, so it was a matter of time when they would live together. You, unfortunately, did not do so well. After graduating from community college, you tried looking for jobs, but none of them turned out to be permanent. You could say that your love life was nonexistent. There was nothing there to keep you around. Deep down you knew this was not the place for you. Having vacated your place for Rosa in the apartment, you made the decision that it was time to return to Hawkins. You hoped that a few months in your hometown would help you find some plan for the future.

"Hey, uhm... listen," began your dad as you approached Trailer Park. "I think there's something you should know. I know you didn't want to hear anything about Eddie, but it's really important."

"Dad, please, let's talk about it later." during one of your dad's visits to Indy and a big moment of weakness, you told him what was the real reason for your moving out.

"I don't know if there will be an opportunity later-"

"Dad, please." you interrupted him. The man just sighed and drove into the last turn leading in front of your trailer.

As you stepped out of the car the sun over Hawkins was just beginning to rise. You smiled at the sight of your old home and surroundings, you didn't even realize how much you missed it.

"Holy shit!" you heard a familiar voice and immediately turned toward it. Max, after a moment, however, was already at your side locking you in a bear hug. "I thought I'd never see you here again. Welcome home." she muttered into your shirt.

"I missed you too, Red." You chuckled squeezing her back even tighter.

"For how long are you staying?"

"I have no idea, definitely a few months."

"Yes, we need to spend some time before I leave for college! I have to call El and tell her you're back!"

"You can also say that I'm taking you both out for ice cream tomorrow. Today, sadly," you pouted. "I have to deal with unpacking."

"So, it's a date!" she laughed winking at you. She hugged you again and ran back to her trailer.

"You really didn't tell anyone you were coming back?" your dad asked.

"Nope."

"Why?" He was puzzled.

"I don't know, I guess I wanted to give them a little surprise." You smiled slightly. "Are we going to start?" you asked looking toward the car in which the cardboard boxes with your things were located.

After unpacking everything, you decided to go for a little shopping at a nearby grocery store, you wanted to prepare dinner for your dad tonight. About twenty minutes later you were back outside your trailer. You still couldn't believe you were back here. Everything seemed like a weird dream to you.

"Am I hallucinating?" you heard Wayne's voice as you put your shopping bags by the door and pulled out your keys. "Are my old eyes mistaken?" you turned to look at him with a smile. He was walking toward you holding a little girl who had a storm of curls on her head with colorful bobby pins in it. Her big dark eyes looked curiously in your direction, and you too, despite your efforts, could not hide your surprise.

When they got a little closer he put the girl on the ground and opened his arms inviting you into a hug, which you quickly accepted.

"God, I missed you so much!" you said squeezing him even tighter.

"Me too, kid. Welcome home."

When you finished hugging, you took a step back to look at him, nothing had changed, he was completely the same as you remembered. Your gaze, however, quickly shifted to the little person who was now hiding behind his leg clutching his pants leg. Following your line of sight, Wayne swiftly picked her up in his arms again.

"Come on, sweetheart, introduce yourself." he smiled warmly.

"Hello, I am Beatrice." the girl said quietly, clinging to Wayne's neck.

"Well, hello, you have such a beautiful name." you replied smiling and extending your hand toward her.

"Everybody calls me Trixie." she added as her small hand tightened on your finger. "What's your name?" she asked more confidently.

"Oh! My name is y/n." you stammered nervously.

"I know you." she continued.

"You do?" you asked confused.

"You are the lady from the photos!" she exclaimed clapping her hands. "Daddy and Grandpa have your photos on the wall!"

Daddy and Grandpa. Suddenly you felt your legs bending under you. At first when you saw her in Wayne's arms you tried to force yourself to think that it was the child of friends, relatives, anyone. Now, though, you couldn't escape the truth. The beautiful curls on her head and chocolate eyes left no trace of doubt. Beatrice. You knew perfectly well why they chose exactly this name, and you did not hide the fact that it touched you. A cute little Trixie named after the most wonderful woman in the world.

"Alright, kiddo, why don't you go play with your new ball for a bit while grandpa and y/n have a little talk?" The man immediately sensed your confusion and awkward atmosphere. The girl quickly rushed over to their trailer, where a colorful ball was lying and started playing with it. You and Wayne sat down at the picnic table.

"So…Grandpa?" you asked nervously placing your hands under your thighs.

"Things got pretty crazy when you left, y'know?" he chuckled. "This little lady, she wrapped us around her finger right from the start." he said, watching Trixie chasing a colorful ball with a smile.

"Congratulations." you said smiling.

You recalled the words you said to Eddie during your last conversation about moving on. He really did. No one would have ever expected him to be the first to start a family, but you also knew all along that Eddie Munson was full of surprises. You wondered where he was now, maybe at work? Maybe he and Samantha were both working which is why Wayne is taking care of Trixie until they get home, and then as a whole happy family they sit around the table. Despite the passage of time, your wounds related to Eddie have not healed. And despite the fact that whenever someone mentioned something about him you changed the subject and tried to avoid him like a fire, he never left your thoughts. Worse, he didn't leave your heart either.

"Uh-" You didn't know how to start but you had to ask the question. You had to know no matter how much of a blow it would be to you.

"Eddie and Samantha, uhm- are- are they…" you began to stammer. The word married didn't want to pass your lips, you had the feeling that it stopped in your throat in the form of a giant gulp.

"Don't say anything about this girl." The man sighed. "Normally I would have kept a cigarette in my mouth a long time ago, but since Trixie showed up we both stopped smoking." He shook his head.

"Then we have a little miracle worker here."

"You have no idea." he laughed. "We found her in a box. She dumped her on our doorstep in a box like she was a damn animal." Hearing this you felt a sting in your heart. You looked at the girl. How could she do something like that? "Since that day, she disappeared totally, taking no interest in her own daughter at all. God knows what would have happened to Trixie if she had stayed with her mother."

Before you had time to respond anything Trixie ran up to Wayne pulling him by the sleeve so that he was leaning into her and started whispering something in his ear. After a moment, they both looked at you.

"So…" Wayne began. "Trixie would like to ask you something."

"Oh, what is it?" you leaned over to be at about level with the girl. But she, shyly, ran away hiding behind his back.

"Hey, don't be shy." he laughed, grabbed her under the arms and lifted her up seating her between you on the bench.

"Can you color with me?" she asked timidly, covering her face with her small hands. You didn't expect such a proposal. You hadn't had much experience with young children in your life, so you didn't really know how to behave in her company either. The atmosphere was still a bit awkward, but that didn't stop you from agreeing. "Garandpa, can you be my crayons?" she asked with a broad smile.

"What's the magic word?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

"Please!"

When Wayne returned with the crayons and coloring book you laid everything out in front of the two of you. Trixie, unfortunately, was too low to color comfortably on the table, but a solution quickly appeared in her mind. You watched in surprise as she clumsily climbed into your lap and found a place on it. Shock was quickly replaced by a smile as you saw that she was beginning to feel comfortable in your company. As time passed, you too began to relax in hers too.

After a while, your dad also joined you. The next few hours until dinnertime you told Wayne about your life in Indianapolis, in between coloring or playing ball with your new little friend.

As you washed the dishes after dinner you still couldn't get the constant thoughts of the news you found out today out of your head. Slowly you began to regret that you had always run away from the subject of Eddie, that you never wanted to know how he was doing despite the fact that everyone thought it was important and that you should know. Now the truth was out and you yourself didn't know how you felt about it. You also wondered what would have happened if you hadn't left. If you had stayed in Hawkins and been there for him from the beginning. There was a slight twinge of remorse, because you were sure that the beginning had been awfully difficult for him and Wayne, and surely your help would have made everything easier for them. Unfortunately, time cannot be turned back.

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of coughing from the bathroom.

"Dad are you okay?" you asked knocking lightly on the door. "Dad?" you asked again when you didn't get an answer.

"'m fine" he said after a long moment still coughing.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'm going to get some air, are you coming with me?" you offered.

"No."

"I'll be in front of the trailer if you change your mind." You said and left.

The evening was pleasantly warm. The sun had already gone behind the horizon, and the first stars and moon appeared in the sky. You sat at the table gazing at the sky and returned to getting lost in your thoughts.

You looked toward the trailer that once belonged to Mrs. Gómez. You would have given a lot for one more conversation with her, surely she would have known what to advise you and how to get rid of the burden that had been deposited on your heart. She always knew what to say to make you feel better, she always knew how to find in you the remaining strength to overcome all the problems that stood in your way. Now you had the feeling that you needed her more than ever. Maybe she had always known that this was how it would end between you? Inseparable caterpillars need to drift apart so that later their paths would merge back into one? Was it possible? Was there even a shadow of a hope for rebuilding your relationship? Would there be a place for you in Eddie's current life?

Fate completely as if reading your thoughts made a van pull up in front of the trailer on the opposite side, at the sight of which your heart dropped. Stunned, you watched as a man stepped out of it. Clenching your hands on the edges of the bench, in the dim light of the lamps you saw a familiar but completely different face. His curls were now much shorter yet still wild, seeming to have a life of their own on his head. The stubble covered up some of the fatigue on his face, but the bags under his eyes were all too visible. He was wearing work clothes soiled with grease with a small badge on which his name was written.

When he noticed that someone was sitting at the picnic table he quickly glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his neighbors. Only after a moment something inside him trembled.

The silhouette was familiar yet seemed completely out of place. He turned around a second time and heavily swallowed, realizing who he was seeing. His heart beat faster and his legs carried themselves toward you. Over the years, he had thought almost every day about what it would be like for you to meet for the first time after all these years. Each time he was racked by mixed feelings, anger at the fact that you had left and longing that made him want to call you every night and beg you to come back. In his thoughts, many times he kept yelling at you for breaking the promise and disappearing from his life without giving a specific reason. There were also visions where he simply brings you down into his arms and doesn't let you out of them, so that you don't disappear again.

Now having you in front of him for the first time in years, he did not feel an ounce of anger. The nostalgia that had been inside him all these years finally seemed to quiet down, and when you got up slowly from the bench and stood in front of him, so that only two steps separated you, he couldn't stop smiling.

"Hi, Eddie." you said quietly awkwardly waving your hand. He quickly grabbed you by it and pulled you close, hugging you tightly. Anger could wait. For years he had been waiting for this moment, for years he had been waiting for the voice of sadness and longing haunting him to disappear.

"Welcome home." he muttered into your hair squeezing you even tighter as he felt your arms tighten around his tummy.

Welcome home. You've heard those two words many times today but now, for the first time, it really felt like it, like you were home.

When Eddie returned to the trailer Trixie was already asleep and Wayne was slowly getting ready for work.

"What got you so smiley, boy?" he asked for the first time seeing his nephew smiling after working overtime.

"Nothin'." Eddie replied, walking over to the refrigerator. "A new drawing?" he asked noticing a colorful unicorn tagged with a magnet on the metal door.

"Yeah, the work of Trixie and her new friend." laughed Wayne.

"New friend?" he asked puzzled, not recalling that there were any new children in the neighborhood for Trixie to play with.

"Yeah, y'know the one who just got back from Indy and moved in across the street." He winked at him and grabbed the door handle.

"She was excited to finally meet the lady from the pictures. Goodnight son." Wayne said and walked out, leaving him alone in the living room.

When he changed out of his work clothes he sat on the couch staring at the photos on the wall. Ever since Trixie came into their lives Wayne had been crazy about photos, so the wall opposite the one with his huge collection of mugs was full of frames with pictures. Wayne claimed it made the place much more family-like. Among them, several photos showed just you and Eddie in different age groups. She was excited to finally meet the lady from the photos. Eddie couldn't help feeling relieved that his current life had revealed itself to you before he had to do so.

taglist: @i-me-mine @phantypurple @tlclick73 @browneyes528 @sidthedollface2 @bellalillyrose

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suvidrache · 11 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Uryu

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 507 / Read it on AO3 | Offline Version

A: Aftercare - What they're like after sex?

He's going to do what he can to help you out. Carry you to the bath, change the sheets, etc.

B: Body Part - Their favorite part of themselves/you?

His hands and your ass/breasts.

C: Cum - Taste, texture, etc?

A clear color, slightly salty, and sticky.

D: Dirty Secret

He has an album of the images you sent to him.

E: Experience - How much experience do they have?

None, he's never been in this position before.

F: Favorite Position

Lotus, missionary, any that allows him to see your face better. Occasionally doggy.

G: Goofy - How are they: serious, funny, etc?

Not entirely funny, but will try to relax the tension as much as he can.

H: Hair - Shaved, not shaved, color?

Trims every once in a while, black.

I: Intimacy - How are they romantically?

Very romantic. He's going to lay out petals and try to make each time different from the last.

J: Jack Off - How often do they masturbate?

Every once in a while. Maybe even more, he doesn't want to admit such things and is embarrassed he even does things like that.

K: Kink - Their kinks?

Breeding, watching you in the mirror, tying each other up.

L: Location - Favorite place(s) to do it?

The bedroom, nowhere else.

M: Motivation - What gets them into it?

Lingerie, tight-fitting clothes, and short clothes (crop tops, short skirts/shorts, etc.) Flirting/being suggestive.

N: No - Will not do/turns them off?

Anything that will cause pain, bleeding, or death. Threesomes.

O: Oral - Giving, receiving, skill?

Loves to receive, but prefers giving just because he doesn't want to seem needy. Over time, he'll be more confident and willing to voice how he feels.

P: Pace - Fast, rough, slow, etc?

Slow and hard, he'll go harder at times.

Q: Quickie - How often?

Every once in a while. Very rarely unless you initiate it. Again, when he finds more confidence, he'll voice his opinions.

R: Risk - Willing to take risks/experiment?

Highly unlikely.

S: Stamina - How long/many rounds can they go?

3 or 4 for about 45 minutes.

T: Toys - Do they have any/will they use them?

No, but he would be willing to use them to satisfy you. He would be blushing if you used them on him.

U: Unfair - How much do they tease?

Not much, because he knows that if you teased him enough, you would leave him a blushing and stuttering mess.

V: Volume - How loud are they?

Pretty vocal, but not too loud.

W: Wild Card - Something random?

He'd love to spy on you, but it would leave him with nosebleeds, so unfortunately, he just looks at the photos you sent him in a locked room.

X: X-Ray - Size, appearance, etc?

7, pale with some noticeable veins, a big vein on the underside, cut.

Y: Yearning - How high is their sex drive?

High, but he doesn't speak about it until he's confident.

Z: ZZZ - How quickly do they fall asleep?

He falls asleep once you do.

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#uryu x y/n #uryuu #bleach uryu #uryu x reader #uryu ishida #ishida uryū #ishida uryuu #bleach x y/n #bleach x you #bleach imagines #bleach x reader #bleach headcanons #bleach smut

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rohirric-hunter · 7 months

Text

OC-tober Day 17: Myth

(Spoilers for a couple of Gundabad missions)

"Something about singing," you say, "and seeing? Uh, not seeing. Not singing?"

Léonys shifts nervously against the ropes that bind her, but her voice is level when she speaks. "Where is the negative, Hathellang? Durin said it matters where the negative is."

As the only one of your little group trapped inside the vault, you are the only one who can see the riddle on the plaque -- the riddle which is written in Dwarf-runes you barely understand and translates into Khuzdul that all of you barely understand. The others are outside the vault, bound hand and foot to the mirrors that had made up the first riddle, in plain sight but painfully out of reach through the cagelike bars that protect the most valuable treasures here.

There isn't a time limit built into the vault, you don't think, not for this. But there is a time limit in the form of the Orcs that wait outside, who promised you darkly that if you didn't manage to open the vault soon, and keep it open long enough for them to loot it, your friends would die slowly and painfully. You aren't sure how long they think "soon" is. It's already been well over half an hour, and the longer you take the more nervous you become.

"It's… it's before seeing," you say. "Singing, not seeing."

"A blind person at a bar crawl," Ferelin says. Dahlia looks very much like she would like to smack him, but she is too far away, and too tightly bound.

The last riddle had been easy. Greymaul, leader, name. After you had made out all that you had hazarded a guess. The vault, evidently, had not been made to protect against people with a passing knowledge of Dwarven history. It protects well enough against the orcs, who couldn't even figure out the mirrors themselves, and who had laid in wait until someone smarter came along. It's also protecting well enough against you from the lingual barrier alone.

"Singing about what?" you ask in frustration.

Lamegil cranes his neck from where he is bound. "Is the rune for seeing in the present or past tense?" he asks.

"I don't know," you say. "I'm not even certain it's seeing."

It is frustrating to both of you that it is you trapped in the vault and not him. His skill with runecraft would allow him to decipher the letters much better than you can, although he would still struggle with the words themselves, you suppose. But when the Orcs had leapt out of the shadows and attacked moments after the vault doors had slammed shut, trapping you inside, they hadn't been much interested in who could read runes and who knew Khuzdul. They had recognized you, and you aren't sure how, as someone with some skill at getting in and out of places, and while they weren't wrong, they clearly hadn't understood the lock on the thing.

Dwarf doors of this sort, you have found, can be circumvented. But doing so is often more work than just opening them the proper way, and one protecting a place of this value is most likely especially difficult to get around.

"This is a strange form of the negative," you say. "I haven't seen it before."

"What is it?" Drof asks. Of all of you, she is the most well-versed in Khuzdul, after years of living in Thorin's Hall. Even she is far from fluent, though, and it eats at her. Khuzdul is the language of Durin's folk, but it holds some importance to all Dwarves, because they say it was the First Tongue spoken, the one that called all the fathers of the Dwarves to life. But in Mordor it was forbidden, and though some Stout-axes kept it close and passed it down, in Barad-dûr itself they were too closely watched, and Drof grew up speaking only the common tongue and Black Speech.

You cannot help her much, unfortunately, for your own ability to read runes leaves much to be desired. Durin has been eager enough to teach you spoken Khuzdul, but there has been precious little time for reading lessons. "I don't know," you say. "It might not be a negative after all."

"I think it is!" Ferelin says suddenly. "Singing about something no one has ever seen? What has no one ever seen?"

"The sun in the middle of the night," you say flatly.

Ferelin doesn't respond (although Dahlia looks very much like she would like to smack you). Instead, he begins to sing:

The harps sing loud, the fires burn low; Our thoughts now stray to long ago, When in the north and far away The anvils rang 'neath Mountains Grey.

All of you pause, waiting for something to happen. Nothing does.

"Maybe you have to sing it," Ferelin says.

"I don't know the song," you say.

"I just sang the first verse," Ferelin says, a little sharply.

"The harps sing loud," you begin.

"Sing it," Ferelin insists.

You aren't confident this is going to help, but you start to sing anyway.

The harps sing loud, the fires burn low; Our thoughts now stray to long ago, When in the north and far away The anvils rang 'neath Mountains Grey.

You pause. "In olden days when all was sundered," Ferelin helpfully prompts you, and you continue.

In olden days when all was sundered, Our sires left strongholds wrecked and plundered And hewed new homes far under stone To carve a kingdom of our own.

Nothing happens. You look at Ferelin expectantly. "I… I don't know the next verse," he says.

"You?" you ask teasingly, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. "Don't know a song?"

Ferelin doesn't seem to find it as amusing as you do. "I haven't had much time to be memorizing anything that isn't useful for fighting or healing, Hath," he snaps. "How am I supposed to use this song to heal someone? Or in a fight? Believe me, I've tried, but it just makes Dwarves sad and it just confuses Orcs, and as for the drakes, I don't even really know, but I do know I shan't be trying it again!"

"And apparently it makes hobbits very disagreeable to be around," Dahlia cuts in. "I might know the next verse, just give me a moment. It starts with… something about fists and hammers. Something -- I have it!"

With iron fists and hammers strong They ruled a realm of storied song, The glitt'ring mines and glimm'ring hall Of peerless, proud Thafar-gathol.

"That's not how you pronounce that," Ferelin says. Dahlia ignores him and keeps singing.

O reaches rich with gem and ore! Resplendent runes writ on the door! O kingly crown of ruby wrought! The forge-fires burning ever-hot!

Dahlia trails off, but suddenly Drof is singing, her deep voice echoing around the chamber like a bell ringing in the ancient halls. This song, like most Dwarf music, was made to be sung by deep voices in stone halls, and it wakens something in you as the empty space is filled with song.

Beryl, bloodstone, sapphire, sard, Darkest onyx, diamond hard, Gold, and garnet filled their hoards, And shone upon their shimm'ring swords.

Yet tales they tell of greater treasure, Matchless wealth past mind and measure, Mighty mithril, blazing bright, That drenched the darkened depths with light.

Then Lamegil is singing, his voice thin but strong, his light accent clashing oddly as it bounces from stone to stone.

The harps grow still, the embers dim, Our ballads glad grow black and grim, For in the north and far away Our days drew short 'neath Mountains Grey.

Now heed and hearken as I speak Of times that turned from blithe to bleak; Fast and fearful came the fall Of fair, forlorn Thafar-gathol.

Lamegil's voice pauses, but Ferelin begins again. This verse, you remember, was the one he had tried against the dragon-kind, or rather, he had tried it against some hobgoblins and the great drake that he had not seen, which had silently glided down from above and landed behind him, had been driven into a frenzy -- for reasons that are, perhaps, obvious, but you are unsurprised that Ferelin swore off the song after that. Perhaps it is less obvious to him, after very nearly being snatched up and eaten alive. Perhaps such a song is not useful for one of his talents on this particular endeavor, anyhow.

For in the dimness of the deep A shadowed shape did stir from sleep. He woke the worm-kin well past number, Avowing to avenge his slumber.

With clutching claws and baleful breath The dragons dealt out doom and death, And when their wanton wrath had waned, No relic of those halls remained.

As Ferelin's voice quails, Léonys takes a deep breath and begins to sing the next verse. Her voice, higher than Drof's and Lamegil's both, echoes against both stone and the gold and gems that you kneel on top of.

Ages since our stock have sought For trace or track, unearthing nought. We delved new dwellings, looked for lore, Yet failed to find those halls of yore.

We searched and scoured, and serpents slew, But now our folk are tired and few, And still it bides beyond recall: Lonely, lost Thafar-gathol.

She stops there, but you remember the last verse yourself. It had stuck with you when you first read it, transcribed on a bit of parchment from the runes in the secret chamber in Khîl's home, and struck you again later, in frozen caverns where it had echoed about and pooled in the corners like melting ice, and without trying all that hard you had committed it to memory.

The harps are gone, the fires are out, The shadows gather all about, Yet from the north and far away Still sounds the song of Mountains Grey.

King or common, fool or clever, It lures us always, tempting ever. Brothers, can you hear the call Of long-lamented Thafar-gathol?

Your own voice echoes in the chamber, but with a sharper timbre as it bounces off gold coins and steel bars. As it fades to silence, for a moment nothing happens, and then the door at the east side of the inner vault swings open silently.

Immediately, you practically scamper out of the vault, before it locks itself again and traps you anew, coins jingling beneath your feet as you run. You pause for a moment outside the door to catch your breath, then turn to the nearest mirror, where Léonys is bound.

Her eyes are wide, though, and as you step towards you she cries out your name. "Behind you," she says, and you turn, stepping to the side out of instinct.

"This one's smart," the orc says, as his blade slices the air where you were standing mere moments before.

The orcs had taken your sword, but had evidently not noticed your dagger. You draw it and a moment later your enemy has no more opinions on your intelligence, favorable or not. There are six more, though, and rather than face them alone you turn and saw through the ropes binding Léonys as quickly as you may. She steps past you and, unarmed herself, punches the nearest orc in the face with surprising force, sending it staggering backwards.

Dahlia stands the best chance of any of you in an unarmed fight, so you make for her next. There are a few tense moments, as Léonys struggles to hold them off to buy you time, but Ferelin is already singing, and your blade is sharp, and you free your friends one by one. When at last Lamegil is free the room shakes with thunder, for the orcs had not taken his rune pouch, not realizing the danger.

The vault doors slam shut again at that, but this time they lock nothing inside but the gold and gems that belong there. All the orcs are dead now, save their leader, who flings himself at the vault as the doors swing shut, reaching between the bars and scrabbling for the gold.

It would have been amusing, perhaps, for he has somehow chosen the one spot along the edge of the vault where all of the valuables within are completely out of reach, except that it is so very miserable and pitiful. The six of you exchange uncomfortable looks. "Stop it," you say at length. "Get out of here. You're free to go, unless we catch you stealing Dwarven artifacts again."

The orc stands, and then suddenly turns on you with a snarl of rage, raising his sword to strike. You step back, not fast enough to avoid the blow, but it never falls.

Léonys catches hold of his raised arm, twists it down and behind him, and then, while he is straining to regain his balance, snaps his neck almost effortlessly with her other hand.

"I love you, dearest," she says, "but next time --"

"There won't be a next time," you say, the stress finally coming out as a tremble in your voice. "The next time Prince Ingór wants a vault investigated he can send scholars who can read runes. I'm a burglar, not a dictionary."

"I can read runes," Lamegil says quietly.

"And Khuzdul?" Dahlia asks. "How are you at reading that?"

"How are you?" Lamegil snaps back, but you tune out their bickering and lean into Léonys, who wraps her arms around you.

"He wasn't going to stop stealing, you know," she says.

"Well," you say, "he ought to have had the chance at least."

"He didn't take it," she says.

"Well," you say, and you trail off. Really, some part of you is viciously glad the orc is dead. It will be a long time before you stop seeing him holding a blade to Léonys' throat when you close your eyes, or hearing Ferelin's cry of pain in the silence, or thinking about how your friends' lives hung on your ability to work out riddles in a language you neither read nor speak.

Léonys must read some of this in your face, for she steps forward and takes your hand, squeezing it gently. "Let's head back," she says. "The orcs clearly know about this place too. No use moving the treausure until after they've been driven back from here."

You squeeze her hand back, and then follow her out of the vault. You hope you never have to see it again.

*~*~*~*

Those missions sure are something, huh. I think I might have mentioned this one in passing to a couple of people who helped me with missions this past week, although I don't believe the Foregone Trap came up at all. (A note about that one: be sure to start the Riddles Beneath the Inn deed in the proper instance before doing this mission! I've done this mission before solving a riddle in the instance on two characters now and on both characters the deed is bugged and won't bestow at all.)

Anyway, I didn't change the way the password for the vault worked at all. The song was completely unnecessary; just like in the game all they had to do was say the word. But it has to be said from inside the vault, I've decided. (Not because my initial plan was to have it not work because no one was pronouncing it right and that was super stupid and while troubleshooting I realized that Hathellang himself only said it once. What?)

The verses that each character knows are of some significance. See if you can guess where I removed an entire character and replaced them with someone else for this reason.

And most of the Khuzdul lore I pulled out of my ass. Sorry if it contradicts the game.

#lotro #oc-tober #my writing #lotro fic

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