#“feast; my people; for we have done all we can until the end of the world” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thefatedthoughtofyou · 1 year ago

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{ I bring you Sacrificial Virgin!Steve, Demon!Eddie, and Ghost!Robin for your tables. Take this and feast my friends.

I woke after 3 hours of sleep suddenly possessed with this idea and had to get it out of me immediately before i went back to sleep for a bit. Shits crazy. }

Warnings: death, blood, gore, demony things.

The Harrington's are an old family. Older than Hawkins itself, some say. Their manor sits on a hill, overlooking the town, keeping an ever watchful eye on the people below.

Steve has always been alone. No friends. No girlfriends. His only company the maids, and butlers, and tutors, all of whom float through his life, never constant, always different, no connections to be made. His parents make sure of it. He is to be pure. Always. Until they need him.

Unbeknownst to them, Steve has made one friend. A lonely soul, lost and scared, stuck in the halls of Harrington house after one of their many sacrifices. Her name is Robin. She's skittish at first, frightened of him.

He understands. And he waits. And a few months later she comes to him. They lie in his bed, and she talks to him. Tells him about the life she had in Hawkins. Tells him what it's like to live. She is cold to the touch. Steve barely notices.

They strap him to the table on his eighteenth birthday. He'd known it was coming. It was the only logical end to the life he'd been living. His family and their followers, dressed in their dark robes, looking down at him, but not seeing him.

Steve doesn't struggle. He lets them take him. Lies there and looks up into the eyes of a girl none of them can see, and hopes it will be fast. That it will end. Then he can be with Robin and they can find a way out of these halls, and out of this town, and be together, forever.

He doesn't cry. He doesn't make a sound when the knife sinks into him. His blood leaks onto the marble beneath him, his body going cold. Colder. He keeps his eyes on Robin as she smiles sadly down at him, her fingers laced with his though he can't feel it.

The room goes black. Suddenly. Like the light is banished by something unseen. His parents and their rable gasp, scattering out of Steve's sight. He hopes their afraid. And then a voice, otherworldly, fills the room. It's words bring a warmth to Steve that he's never known, it blooms in his chest the way his blood blooms across the floor.

"Why have you summoned me?" The voice says, edges of each word crackling with heat.

"We offer sacrifice." His fathers voice, it's shaking, he's afraid, Steve feels a sick pleasure roll beneath his skin. He hears the new voice make a sound. Disapproving.

"Ah. I see. You think you've summoned me." The voice is deep, and if Steve's not mistaken, amused.

"We- we have summoned-"

"Ah ah. No." His mothers trembling voice goes silent as this new thing cuts her off.

"You've done no such thing." It says. Steve hears footsteps. Hears gasps roll through the room like a wave.

"The boy, is the one bleeding out on the alter, is he not? He... summoned me. Not you."

Steve can see, suddenly. He can see the whole room, and the creature, or is it a man? He can see them all as if it's a play on a stage. He can even see himself, naked and bleeding. And Robin, crouched behind the marble alter, hands still firmly in his own.

"You think yourselves strong enough? To summon me? Without any bloodshed of your own." The creature pushes into his fathers space, Steve's stomach twists in sick pleasure as his father cowers before it. It shakes its head, disappointed.

As Steve watches it move from person to person, assessing, he can't help but find the beauty in it, in him. He looks a bit like a man.

Skin paler than moonlight, except at the hands, his hands are stained pitch black, the inky color crawls across his skin to his elbows. The nails on his fingers are pointed, and dripping, though Steve can't tell with what. And there's something behind it, a tail, Steve thinks, pointed and tipped black.

The creature grabs at his mothers white dress and she recoils at the stain he leave behind.

Steve smiles, a rare thing, in these halls, but he does it. He lies there, bleeding, and he smiles at his mother's discomfort. And this, of all things, draws the creatures attention. His head twitches in Steve's direction like he'd made a sound. Though he hadn't. Though he rarely does.

The creature moves closer. Stands beside the alter and looks down at him with pitch black eyes, and smiles with too sharp teeth. It snaps its inky fingers and the bindings holding Steve fall away. It moves two fingers across Steve's forhead, pushing his sweat soaked hair away from his skin.

"Oh Steven. What have they done to you?" It whispers, and the warmth in Steve's chest burns like coals in a furnace.

"Tell me what you want. Anything. It's yours." The creature, the man, the demon, for Steve knows it to be true. They've summoned a demon. No. He, has summoned a demon.

The demon rests his sharp fingers over Steve's barely beating heart, and waits for him to answer. He swallows, thickly, his throat clicking from underuse and death creeping up on him slowly.

"Kill them. Kill them all." Steve rasps, his throat burning, his chest aching. The demon smiles down at him, and winks.

"It would be my absolute fucking pleasure." The words drip from his blackened mouth like syrup, sticky, and sweet. And then Steve watches, barely able to lift his head now, as the demon tears them apart.

His parents are last. Cowering in the corner like scared children as this demon they've wished for descends on them with a burning fury and covered in blood. They whimper and recoil as he crouches in front if them, tail swishing madly behind him.

"You were given a gift. Eighteen years ago. A gift from the darkness." His voice is shaking now, his hand too, as it reaches toward them, pointing accusingly.

"A gift you begged for!" The shout rings through the nearly empty hall, the force of it extinguishing the candles littering the floor. Steve finds he can still see through the darkness.

"You begged us for this gift. And then you spent the next eighteen years neglecting it. Neglecting him." Steve can feel the demons rage, like it's his own, perhaps it is.

"There is no forgiveness. Where you are going. You will burn. And you will scream. And no amount of begging, shall grant you anymore gifts." His inky, bloodstained, hands reach out and grab their faces, his pointed nails sink into their skin.

"Not in this lifetime. Nor the many after it, that you'll spending screaming for mercy." His face seems to split then, his smile impossibly wide across his cheeks.

"We do not grant mercy in the realms of darkness and fire. We grant only what is deserved." There's a growl, low in the demons throat, as he rips the Harrington's from this world and sends them to the next. A sick squelching sound follows it as he removes his hands from the mess he's made. He's back at Steve's side shortly after that.

"Why- who-" Steve stammers, reaches up weakly, he can't catch his breath.

"Shh. Don't speak. It's alright." A warm, dry finger, presses to his lips. Steve's chest aches to feel more. Anything else this creature will give him.

"You don't have long I'm afraid. But I have an offer for you." The demon's voice is soft now, almost human. His features are smoothing out too, the blackness fades from his eyes and skin until there's just a man standing next to him.

"What it is?" Steve asks, his breath hitching, not enough air left in this world for him.

"Come with me. Stay with me. Forever." The demon places his hand on Steve's chest and it burns again. Steve gasps, squeezes his eyes shut against the sting of it. And then the pain is gone. It's no longer hard to breathe. He isn't cold. And he feels a hand in his. He opens his eyes.

"She can come too." The demon is smiling, and looking directly at Robin. She's smiling back, and squeezing Steve's hand.

"I can feel you." Is all he can think to say.

"Yeah no shit dingus. You're dead." She says, and launches herself at him. He catches her in his arms and laughs with her, it echoes through the empty halls like music. She pulls away, looks at him, softly.

"Whatever you decide. I'm with you." She pats his cheek, hops off the alter, and goes to stand by the window, looking out into the darkness that shouldn't be there.

"I'm Eddie, by the way." The demon says, he kicks at the ground with his toe, rubs at his neck.

"What kind of demon name is Eddie?" Steve blurts, his eyes going wide. Eddie laughs, and it too, sounds like music.

"It's just my name. So what do you think? You wanna come with me?" The demon, Eddie, asks, his fingers walking along the edge of the alter, eyes on the floor.

"Are you nervous?" Steve asks, his hands dropping to his lap, and he realizes suddenly that he's naked. As soon as the realization hits him, he no longer is. Black sweatpants appear out of nowhere, soft and warm around him.

"Better? And I am. Nervous." Eddie says, tugs on Steve's pantleg genlty.

"Thank you." Steve whispers, not sure how to take the fact he's made a demon nervous.

"I'll always take care of you. If you come with me." His knuckles press into Steve's thigh.

"I've been waiting a long time for you. Wasn't really planning on meeting you like this. Disappointing." He shakes his head, glares off into the corner where the remains of the Harrington's lie in a bloody heap.

"You've been waiting for me?" Steve asks, his fingers twitching with want to reach out, to take Eddie's hand. Eddie nods, bites his lip with a sharp fang, and then looks up at Steve.

"I have a fondness for shattered broken souls. I used to be one, after all." He smiles sadly, and Steve can't stop himself, he reaches out, takes Eddie's hand.

"I think I've been waiting for you too. I just didn't know it." He squeezes Eddie's hand. Eddie smiles, reaches up, tucks a strand of hair behind Steve's ear. He leans forward, forehead pressed to Steve's gently.

"I made you so perfectly. Made you everything they asked for. Everything they wanted." Eddie drags his nose along Steve's, whispering into the space between them.

"And they hurt you. And broke you. And left you all alone. When you should have been with me." He nuzzles into Steve, both of them pressing into the other. Eddie's words slam into Steve's chest with shattering force. Eddie made him. A gift for his parents, all those years ago.

"I would've never left you if I'd known. What they'd do. And by the time I realized, it was too late to take you back. Even demons have rules." Eddie pulls back, cradles Steve's face in his hands.

"I'm sorry. All I could do was give you a friend. But I'm- it wasn't enough I'm so sorry." A tear falls down Eddie's cheek, steaming as it rolls across his skin and fades into the space between them. Steve's chest feels warm again, hot like a fire being kindled behind his ribs. He grabs Eddie's shirt and yanks him forward, presses his lips to Eddie's hard.

"It was enough. She was enough. She was perfect. Just what I needed. And now I have you, too." Steve kisses him and breathes the words into his mouth until he feels Eddie accept them. Feels Eddie wrap himself around him, his skin buring where it touches Steve, making him feel alive.

Near the window, Robin smiles at her shoes.

"Can I keep you?" Eddie whispers the words into Steve's neck, his sharp nails pressing into Steve's back as he pulls him closer and closer.

"Yes. Keep me forever. I'm yours. All yours." Steve whispers back, his dull nails clawing at Eddie's shirts, trying to get him closer, he'd climb inside him if he could. Eddie growls into his skin, possessive.

"Let's go home." He whispers, and they're gone. All three of them.

The light returns to the Harrington house. Bright dawn sunlight beaming in across bloodstained floors. Bodies scattered in heaps and piles around a blood covered alter.

The town of Hawkins forgets all about the Harrington's, for the most part. And their strange son who never left their hallowed halls. But all towns have their legends. And some nights, when the moon is new, and darkness reigns, they say you can hear screaming.

In the halls of Harrington manor, you can hear voices, screaming for mercy. And if you listen closely, right at dawn, they say, you can hear a chorus of voices, haunting, and beautiful, and laughing, as they answer.

"No."

#steddie #steddie fic #demon!eddie munson #Sacrificial Virgin!Steve harrington #ghost!robin buckley #my writing #mine #my fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet

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im-a-wonderling · 16 days ago

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White Moves First, Part 8 ~ Edmund Pevensie

In another life, y'all, I get to stay at home and drink tea and nibble on snacks while I furiously type my stories like there's no tomorrow. In this life, sadly, I am a student who must spend her time writing chemistry lab reports, giving immunology presentations, and settling the occasional choir drama. Sorry for the three-month-long wait, I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: Despite the distance between their two lands, Y/N, princess of Archenland, is close friends with King Edmund the Just. But when push comes to shove, will friendship turn to more?

Warnings: none, other than Mr. Rabbitdash being his creepy prince self

Word count: 5.8k

White Moves First masterlist | Main masterlist

Who knew wedding feasts were so overwhelming?

Moments after Edmund and I entered the candlelit hall, my father grabbed my arm, tugging me away from Edmund before I realized what was happening. “There is Lord Dalor, you must greet him and thank him for his attendance.”

And so it began.

Everywhere I turned, there was another courtier I’d never seen before congratulating me. I politely listened, trying to keep my eyes on the speaking courtiers instead of Queen Susan’s decorations. She’d done a wonderful job, placing the lavender arrangements I’d chosen in beautiful places, along with pale green and purple ribbons flowing in every direction like a spiderweb.

I thanked everyone until I was blue in the face. Pretending to be an elated bride got steadily more difficult, and the buzzing of the nobles talking all around me was slowly driving me mad.

Lord Bote held his goblet aloft, allowing him to place his other hand on his chest in genuine gladness. “Truly, I was so honored by your invitation to your nuptials.”

Forcing a smile, I nodded. “My father insisted on it personally.” A good reply. Flattering, succinct, and upholding of the impression that I’d been the one to invite any of these people to my wedding.

Lord Bote beamed. “I do suppose that your–” The rest of his words were drowned out as my father—all the way at the end of the hall, standing at the king’s seat of honor—stood up and called for everyone’s attention.

My heart sank. What could the king possibly have in mind now?

“Friends, we are so honored by your presence here!” King Loon’s voice boomed. A large cheer rang through the room as goblets were lifted in the air. The king beamed at all his guests, basking in all the attention. “Today is the day of love’s celebration!” A second cheer rose, louder than the first.

“He means his celebration,” muttered a familiar voice beside me, and I slid an arm around Edmund’s back, grateful to have something to hold onto. Edmund wrapped his arm around me in kind, and I squashed the urge to lean into the comfort which was rare on this day.

“But now is a time of great honor for the couple, an auspicious moment that Archenland has the privilege of witnessing.” My father held out his hand to us. “King Edmund, take your bride onto the dance floor.”

I looked up into Edmund’s face, my high strung heart loosening a bit at the sight I knew so well.

Edmund’s lips hovered beside my ear. “Shall we?”

I nodded, taking the hand he offered to me as he led me into the center of the dance floor. The music began, sending Edmund into a low bow. I curtsied.

Edmund’s hand slid across my side, centering on my low back to push me closer to him than I’d ever been during a dance. My first impulse was to pull away, as a lifetime of instruction on deportment had instilled in me. But Edmund and I weren’t merely friends anymore. Marriage changed the little courtesies forming the perimeter of our friendship. I tipped my head back to look at Edmund’s face, trying not to blush at how close it was to my own.

“Finally,” I said quietly as we began the slow steps of a waltz. “I can take a breath.”

I could see the exhaustion tugging at Edmund’s eyes. “Won’t be long now,” he said softly. “Once they’ve all had their fill of ogling the new couple, we can leave.”

Oh, how I couldn’t wait to do so. All the staring, the comments, the festivity that filled the room. All these courtiers were celebrating because their princess wed, none of whom knew Edmund well and none of whom knew of the narrow escape Edmund was for me. I knew no one in this room would be celebrating as grandly if it were a Calormen prince currently dancing with me for the first time as my husband, just as I knew none of them would’ve outright protested the arrangement.

I shook my head.

Thirty minutes. For the rest of my life, I would never underestimate the importance of a half-hour.

The cause of my marriage predicament caught my eye, the Calormen prince lingering at the entrance to the hall, watching us with the posture of indifference, but the eyes of a hunter.

I gulped. “Rabadash is by the door.”

When we were younger, Edmund pursed his lips whenever he held back words he wanted to say. As he got older, he outgrew the habit, but occasionally, I could see the slightest twitch in the muscles of his cheek. If one didn’t know him, they might think he was fighting a smile instead of the urge to speak. Edmund spun us, his eyes lifting for a moment as he confirmed what I’d just told him, and his cheek muscles twitched.

I longed to know what it was he wasn’t saying.

Edmund spun us again so that he was once more in between the Calormen prince and I, as if to shield me from any possible harm from that predatory stare.

“Will he never leave us alone?” I said in despair.

Edmund’s eyes were fixated on me, his freckles standing out even in the low candlelight of the hall. “When the song ends,” he whispered, “I’m going to dip you.”

I glanced at the prince again, trying to ignore the fear worming in my gut. “And kiss me.”

Edmund grinned, and for a moment, I believed it was the idea of kissing me that made him look so eager and lively. “Adding to my strategies again?” he asked, with fondness that was even better than the eagerness.

“I can hardly help it,” I replied. “If there’s room for improvement, I should speak up, should I not?”

“You should indeed.” Edmund twirled me and then brought me back to him, even closer than before, making me crane my neck to keep eye contact. “Since you’re the expert, what kind of kiss would you recommend?”

My heart stuttered as I lowered my gaze to the ruffles of Edmund’s doublet, suddenly bashful. “I’m hardly an expert,” I hedged. “After all, my first was only a few hours ago.”

Did I imagine the tremble in the hand at my back? “But you are the lady,” Edmund replied. “Ladies should dictate what kisses they want…so they’re expecting them.”

“But a wife expects any and all kisses from her husband, does she not?”

Edmund’s lips parted for a moment, his chest rising and falling in a quick breath. “I don’t know, I’d have to ask mine.”

I maintained eye contact, trying to uncover the unspoken words. What was he trying to say? Was he asking permission? Or was there something deeper?

Eyes never leaving mine, Edmund gently braced his hands on my hips before lifting me into the air. With his hands holding me up and my feet apart from the floor, my lungs couldn’t quite draw breath. Even once he set me down to stand on my own merit, the breathlessness didn’t subside.

Edmund’s Adam’s apple bobbed, clueing me into the nerves he felt. My friend and husband was someone who sought out knowledge, who liked to know what to expect, who preferred a foundation of things he could understand. Perhaps, in asking my opinion on what kiss he should give, the man was looking for that same foundation.

I didn’t know what kind of kiss was most likely to discourage Rabadash. I had a sinking feeling that if Rabadash wanted to be encouraged, anything could fuel his fire. But how did I want Edmund to kiss me? Well, I wanted him to kiss me the way he had earlier. Like he meant it. Like there was no one else in the world he’d rather kiss, even if a roomful of people watched.

“I want you–” My voice was hoarse, so I cleared it, trying not to lose my nerve. “I want you to kiss me slowly.” Edmund met my gaze, and my heart jumped in my throat. His gaze had no right being that intense, it scrambled the words in my brain. “If…if you really wanted to kiss me,” I stammered, “i-if we really want Rabadash to think we’re in love, then you should take your time. Like there’s nowhere else you want to be.”

The only answer I got at first was a slow nod. Had I overdone it? Was he uncomfortable?

But when Edmund finally spoke, it wasn’t a change of the subject or a rejection. “What else?”

I squeezed the steady, calloused hand in mine. “Put your hand on the back of my head as you dip me…like I’m precious to you.”

“You are,” Edmund said immediately, then blinked as if surprised by his own words. He seemed to waver on taking it back before quietly repeating himself, sounding more sure now. “You are.”

I smiled warmly, to ease the striking caution I saw on his face. I knew what he meant. Edmund was precious to me too, especially when I could tell that his mind was attempting to untangle his uncertainty in this unfamiliar situation. “Don’t open your eyes right away afterwards, no matter how everyone reacts. Just…stay in the moment with me.” I waited for Edmund’s response, too terrified to keep talking.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and underneath my hand, his shoulder relaxed. “It’s easy to stay in this moment. With you.”

Suddenly, looking up at Edmund's almost-smiling face, I wanted the song to end.

In the way my father was basking in attention, I’d been basking in the proximity with Edmund, dreading the moment the song would end and separate us again to face the sycophantic crowd. And now I wanted the music to trail off, to lean backwards and know that Edmund’s arms would be there to catch me and his lips to greet me.

By Aslan, what was happening to me?

Now I was more nervous than before. This wedding was confusing, in every possible way, and also not anything close to what I expected.

As a princess, as a spare for the throne, I’d never held the power of choice, but even if that luxury had been mine, I never would’ve dared to presume my groom would be a king, and King Edmund at that.

I also never expected a wedding to happen so quickly. Royals were sometimes engaged as children, having almost a decade to get used to the idea of marriage. Even if engagements were sudden, royal weddings didn’t come together almost overnight as this one had.

And my mother wasn’t here.

She’d been gone for years, taken from me so long ago that the idea of an alive mother seemed more foreign than having a dead one. This was an event where she would’ve been hosting. She would’ve been the one picking the decorations, ensuring the food was prepared, standing at my father’s side as they celebrated their daughter’s good fortune. Perhaps that was why my father kept moving amongst the crowd, never staying in one place for too long lest the grief could catch up with him. Perhaps he was right by having me try on my mother’s dress. All he wanted was for her to be here tonight.

Or was that too generous an assessment?

“What’s wrong?”

Shaken from my reverie, I came back to the present moment, blushing a bit when I realized I’d just done the opposite of what I told Edmund to do. “I was just thinking about my mom.” I poked my tongue against the inside of my cheek, trying to figure out whether or not to continue.

“Thinking what?”

“Thinking…about how my dad must feel.” I gave a half-hearted smile. “If your daughter is getting married…it’d make sense that you’d miss your wife, right?”

Edmund didn’t answer, looking characteristically thoughtful. But when he replied, it wasn’t an affirmation or denial. “Do you think she would’ve liked me?”

“I…” My cheeks flushed. I didn’t remember her well enough to know. “I hope so.”

The responding expression wasn’t confused or pitying. It was discerning. All my life, I’d been a transparent princess—I existed. Ignored as easily as I was made a show of. Unreachable by rank. Mysterious by design.

But when Edmund was in the room, I did more than exist.

I was corporeal. I had feelings. I carried importance.

The music grew softer. Edmund let go of my hand to brace his at the base of my neck, guiding me backwards. Resting my hands on his shoulders, I allowed him to hold my weight.

He kissed me, not moving from the dip position.

At first, my mind raced. Were my lips too tense? Did I need to relax? Or was I supposed to move my lips? Edmund was moving his lips a little. I tried to match the movement, but it was peculiar. My hands tightened on his neck, my body starting to panic a bit at still being held above the floor. Would Edmund’s arms get tired? Would he drop me?

And then Edmund’s tongue brushed my bottom lip, and I stopped thinking. My body loosened, like I was silver softening in a smith’s flame, and, by Aslan, Edmund held me like I was something precious.

Slowly, without breaking the kiss, Edmund lifted me up again, setting me on my feet just as the warmth of his face disappeared from mine. I opened my eyes, too curious to help myself.

Edmund’s eyes stayed closed, just as I’d instructed, and his brow was furrowed as though he were in pain. I gazed at his pale complexion, drinking in the noble bridge of his nose and the dark locks of hair resting on his forehead. Then I noticed his lips looked pinker than normal. Was that from our kiss?

Applause broke my trance, and Edmund’s eyes opened, a warm smile crossing his face.

“We survived,” I said lightly, biting my lip to keep from grinning in too undignified a way for a princess.

Someone in the crowd let out a particularly loud cheer, and Edmund’s cheek muscles twitched again. “Twenty more minutes,” he said quietly, “and I’m tying the tablecloths together to get us out of here through the window.”

I laughed, marveling at Edmund’s ability to put me at ease. “I happen to be an excellent knotter.”

“One of the many perks of marrying you,” Edmund said before stepping away to hold out his hand. I took it, allowing him to guide me off the dance floor. We were not among the courtiers for a moment before my father came and whisked Edmund away, leaving me behind.

I frowned at my father’s rush to separate us but quickly had to rearrange my face into a gracious smile as Lord Mor appeared out of nowhere. With no polite way to extricate myself from the situation, I had no choice but to listen to his inane chatter while searching the crowd to see where my husband had gone.

“Excuse me, Lord Mor,” Cor said politely, appearing at my side. “May I speak with my sister for a moment?”

Lord Mor bowed cheerfully and left.

“Thanks for the save,” I mumbled, turning to face my oldest brother.

“What are brothers for?” Cor smiled.

An arm slung around my waist in a casual move only the other twin would do. “Next time you dance with your husband,” Corin said, lifting his goblet, “tell him to save the kiss for later.”

I blushed furiously. Funny, I’d only been thinking of Rabadash seeing our kiss, not the hall full of others and certainly not my brothers. What would a happily married woman say to her brothers after comments like that? When the women of court were married, they seemed to laud their status and knowledge as married women over all the unmarried ones. “When the two of you fall in love, you’ll understand.” I tried to say it as loftily as the other women did, but my brothers just gave me strange looks.

“Gross,” Cor said, his face pinched.

“Heads up,” Corin said, his tone more serious than I knew to expect from him. He gestured with his goblet, and the three of us looked over to see Edmund deep in discussion with my father. King Loon looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him, and I momentarily wondered how many goblets of wine he’d drunk. Or perhaps it was the court’s undivided attention he was drunk on.

Edmund, on the other hand, stood rigidly; the only part of him moving was his fist at his side, which clenched and unclenched repeatedly.

Immediately, the three of us whisked across the room to join the kings. “Father, you haven’t spoken to Lord Mor,” Cor quickly said as I slid my hand across Edmund’s middle, trying to comfort my friend.

The king grinned, clapped Edmund on the shoulder, and loudly said, “we’ll discuss it tomorrow, my boy!” And with that, my father allowed Cor to lead him away with Corin on the other side.

“What was that about?” I asked Edmund, twisting around so that I stood in front of him.

Edmund worked his jaw, staring the way my father had gone. “I’ll tell you later.” The tense set of his face made my chest ache a little. He’d given so much to me and my father and my people. All day, he’d done what was expected of him, with no complaint.

All of it was too much, and more than enough for tonight.

Winding my hand through his, I tugged him gently into a walk beside me.

“Where are we going?” Edmund asked.

“Bed,” was all I answered.

It was customary for a husband to bring his wife to his own bedchamber, but Edmund was glad when Y/N instead brought him to a different guest chamber. It was almost identical to his, but minus the possessions strewn about the furniture and carpet. He’d have to pack those in the morning before they left for Narnia.

“I have never been so tired in my life,” Edmund groaned, falling onto the bed. “Are weddings always like this?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Y/N fell onto the bed beside him. “Ours is the first I’ve ever been to.”

“I would be satisfied if it was the only one I’d ever have to go to.”

Y/N huffed in agreement.

Oh, it was a relief to lay down. It was as if Edmund’s body exhaled out the tension of the day, finally allowing him to relax. Before dancing together, King Loon had directed Edmund through an endless stream of sycophantic men and women. It wouldn’t have been so terrible, if only King Loon had allowed Edmund and Y/N to discourse with the guests together, but it almost seemed as if the king were trying to keep Edmund away from his daughter.

Edmund shook his head. No, it was far more likely that King Loon intended to take advantage of having Y/N and Edmund around while he still could.

Then the dancing.

Dancing with Y/N was much more pleasant than talking with people he didn’t know, but then again, doing anything with Y/N was much more pleasant than most anything else.

Including foiling a certain prince.

Yes, that was very pleasant.

It’s too bad there were no teams in chess. Edmund had no doubt that he and Y/N would decimate any opponents. He sat up, looking at his wife.

“Are you alright?” he asked, for what felt like the tenth time that day. He could hardly help it if their wedding warranted constant check-ins with his friend’s wellbeing. If the wedding had truly been an event born of ‘love’s celebration’, he’d be able to read into Y/N’s smiles and expressions of excitement. But with the pretenses they were holding up, Edmund couldn’t assume anything.

But when Y/N smiled at him just now, it wasn’t like the smiles of the day. Her lips spread into a soft smile, setting Edmund at ease in the way only Y/N could. “I’m good. Are you?”

“Better now,” Edmund answered honestly. Here, in the privacy of their temporary chamber, they didn’t have to force anything. They could just be who they were.

Too soon, the happy moment ended as Y/N squeezed Edmund’s shoulder and got to her feet. “Time to get ready for bed.” Edmund groaned, too comfortable to move. Astonishing, really, how exhaustion reordered one’s priorities.

Y/N stood, unclasping her necklace and pulling out her earrings before placing the jewelry on the bedside table. Edmund watched her slide his old signet ring off her ring finger and back onto her pointer finger. Perhaps he should’ve felt slighted by the action, but really, she was right, it looked much better on that finger.

“Um…” Y/N shifted, fiddling with the laces on the back of her dress. “Do you mind?”

Edmund stared at her reddening cheeks, confused at first by what she meant. Then realization dawned, and his own flared. “Ah, of course.” He quickly jumped off the bed, walking around to meet her.

Y/N turned around, presenting the laces to him. Edmund nervously wiped his hands on his pants, staring at the neat knot at the bottom of the bodice, right where his hand had been while dancing. Funny, he hadn’t remembered feeling the knot there.

Taking a quick breath, he started on the knot. The little cords were tinier than Edmund was accustomed to working with. On a ship, the knots of a rope were much thicker and easier to undo, even if they did cause ropeburn. His fingers felt awkwardly large as he tried to undo it, but the knot held firm. “You’re too good a knotter,” he grumbled.

Y/N’s delicate shoulders shook, from shivers or laughter, Edmund couldn’t tell until she spoke with great mirth. “Having a spot of trouble?”

“Blast,” Edmund muttered, and her shoulders shook a little again. “How secure does a dress need to be?” he groused, suddenly thankful that men’s fashion didn’t require a helper to get in and out of. No wonder Y/N had a designated lady’s maid, she had to do this every day, sometimes multiple times.

He tried to use his thumbnail to get some leverage on the knot, but it continued to make him look inadequate in front of his wife. Another minute, and he’d rip the damn dress apart out of pure frustration.

As soon as he thought the thought, his fingers slipped on the laces. Calm down, he told himself sternly. You’re a king, for crying out loud. Act like it.

“You never told me what the problem with your dress was,” Edmund said.

With his hands fidgeting with the knot at her back, he felt her spine stiffen. “It was nothing.”

“Y/N. Honesty.”

The princess let out a heavy sigh. Edmund could imagine her face, slightly irritated and anxious, weighing her words as he knew her to do. He wanted to know if he was right, if his mind could predict what she looked like, but he had a hunch this conversation would be easier for her without being face-to-face.

“My father…wanted me to wear my mother’s dress.” Edmund’s fingers froze, the stubborn knot still in his grasp, as he waited for her to go on and attempted to control his anger with more CHARACTER than King Loon attempted to control Y/N. Y/N shifted her weight. “He said I was always meant to wear it.”

“Did you like it?” Edmund asked with extreme care. “The dress?”

“It was pretty,” was her only answer.

“So you didn’t like it.”

Y/N’s hands slid down her skirt, her fingers sweeping across the fabric. “Not the way I like this one.”

Edmund nodded, satisfied. Finally, the knot gave, and he made quick work of the loops, freeing his wife at last. He turned away from her to face the wall, silently allowing her the privacy to step out of the dress. Then he looked down at his own clothes. Normally he slept in only a pair of sleep breeches, but doing that tonight felt indecent. So he simply took off his boots and fancy doublet, leaving his trousers and undershirt. Anything more could wait until they had a space of their own to solidify their nightly routine.

He could still hear Y/N rustling about, so he stayed where he was, stifling a large yawn with his hand. The rustling continued.

“I’m done,” Y/N finally announced, and Edmund turned to see her already sliding in between the covers of the bed. She fought a large yawn as she ran her fingers through her unbound hair.

Had her hair always been that long? It tumbled over halfway down her back, a few short pieces in the front to softly frame her face. Suddenly, the Archenland hairstyles peeved Edmund. Y/N should’ve always been wearing her hair this way.

He reprimanded himself again. Not appropriate thoughts to have about his friend.

He got into bed beside her, feeling glad he’d sent a note ahead to Cair Paravel to Peter to prepare the bedchamber where they would sleep. He couldn’t imagine bringing Y/N into the chamber he’d had for years in Cair Paravel. Literally. His mind couldn’t conjure the image of her walking in and staring at the organized chaos of Edmund’s things.

The maids at Cair Paravel long ago learned not to disturb Edmund’s chambers for something as disruptive as cleaning. Once, they’d rearranged all of Edmund’s books from his ordered yet overflowing stacks onto his bookshelves, and Edmund nearly had an aneurysm. Sure, it looked messy to the outsider, but really it was an intricate system of information in the forms of books, parchment, and broken quills. An outsider would never be able to appreciate all the little marks on Edmund’s bedpost from Edmund’s attempts to master knife throwing just for the sake of knowing how to do it.

The idea of bringing some mysterious wife into that space troubled Edmund, but he had a feeling that Y/N, his friend, would gladly stand next to him and learn knife-throwing.

And grow more accomplished at it than he.

Nonetheless, Edmund requested Peter move all his parchment and books to a new study while having the furniture replaced and the chambers thoroughly cleaned. The only thing that Edmund had asked to remain was his solid gold chess set, a gift from a foreign dignitary whose name Edmund had forgotten. Y/N had never seen his chess set. Considering she always teased him for choosing to play black, he could already imagine the two of them chuckling over the black pieces being gold instead.

“I can’t wait to see Narnia,” Y/N said suddenly, as if she’d been thinking similar thoughts.

Edmund grinned up at the ceiling. “I can’t wait to show it to you.” What fun the two of them could have. He could show her the library and point out the best armchair by the window with just enough light in the evenings to read by. Oh, and she’d adore the sweet pastries he sometimes nicked from the kitchens while all the staff pretended not to see. And the best place to go in the castle to see the stars at night. The constellations would be the same as Y/N had grown up with. Maybe it’d make her a little less homesick on nights when she missed her homeland.

They laid side-by-side in silence, and Edmund felt his eyes getting heavier and heavier.

“What were you and my father talking about?” Y/N asked, as quiet and light as a flame.

A flash of anger doused Edmund’s insides, waking him up immediately. He rolled to his side, propping his head up on his fist so that he could look down into her face. “Your father was asking when your coronation will be. He wanted to plan it for the day after tomorrow.” In Archenland. King Loon wanted to crown a Narnian monarch in Archenland’s hall. On a day’s notice. Nevermind the concern of crowning a queen in what wasn’t to be her new country, Y/N deserved more than a rushed and disorganized coronation.

Y/N seemed to shrink into the comfort of her pillow, as if she wanted to be swallowed up by the soft down and feathers. “Oh.”

“Y/N?” He waited until Y/N looked at him with curious eyes. “Do you want to be a queen?”

Y/N’s expression was marble smooth, giving him no clues as to her thoughts. Finally, she said, “Narnia already has two queens.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes, trying to analyze her tone. “If you wished it, a coronation could easily be arranged. But…should you not wish it…remaining a princess would be…satisfactory.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, bestowing Edmund with her sudden humorous twinkle. “Satisfactory?”

“You know what I mean,” Edmund grunted, falling flat on his back, preferring the sight of the ceiling for his sanity.

But instead of leaving him to privately stave off embarrassment, Y/N turned onto her side, her thankfully serious face appearing in his view. “Shouldn’t this be a conversation between you and your siblings?”

“It will be. But I want to know what you want before I talk with them.”

The princess seemed to digest this, her eyes drifting off to the side as she thought. She had this habit of puckering up her lips when she was deep in thought, Edmund saw it often when they played chess. Her mind was the most appealing part of her, so it was unfair that whenever she was lost in it, her lips furrowed together as if begging to be kissed.

Edmund shook his head. Really? Was he coming down with a fever or something?

“Is it even wise to have a foreign queen if there are already two?” Y/N asked.

Edmund shrugged. “Susan and Lucy weren’t born in Narnia any more than you were.” Y/N glanced down at the bedding, her hair falling into her face. Without missing a beat, Edmund reached up to tuck the traitorous locks behind her ear.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered as his fingers brushed the shell of her ear. “Do my duties change based on my title?” she asked.

“Officially? Perhaps.” Edmund withdrew his hand. “Practically? Likely not.”

Y/N nodded once, meeting his eyes again. “Then I think I would like to remain a princess. Coronations sound scary.”

Edmund sat up, and Y/N leaned back so they didn’t collide. He intended to ask her if she was sure, but the sight of her contented expression in front of her unbound hair across the pillow told him all he needed to know. Maybe later she would change her mind, and they would organize a coronation then, but for now? She didn’t want that, and Edmund wasn’t about to give her something she didn’t want. “Okay,” he said softly.

She smirked. “Though I still hope the Narnians might grant me a nickname like they have you and your siblings.”

“Oh, certainly,” Edmund replied. “Especially if they see your fear of coronations.” He gestured grandly. “Princess Y/N the cowardly.”

His friend snorted, running her hands through her unbound hair. “More like Princess Y/N the prudent.”

“Y/N the theatrical.”

“Y/N the eloquent.”

“Y/N the laughable.”

Y/N held up a finger. “Y/N the modest.”

“Y/N the loquacious.”

She burst into giggles at that one, a sound that was impossible not to love. Edmund chuckled, unable to help himself.

Their laughter quieted as both settled into their pillows. “Blow the candles out?” Edmund asked.

Y/N hummed, and both of them blew out the candles on their bedside tables.

They didn’t talk anymore. The only sound in the darkness was the occasional rustle as Edmund or Y/N changed position.

Edmund had never shared a bed before. Was Y/N a light sleeper? Would adjusting his position wake her up? Edmund’d never been able to fall asleep quickly; his mind was too active. What if Y/N didn’t feel comfortable falling asleep until he was asleep?

Oh, Aslan, what if Edmund snored? He didn’t think he could ever live it down if he snored and she couldn’t sleep because of it. If he did snore, they’d have to sleep in different bedrooms. Maybe they needed to do that anyways. Would Y/N prefer her own room at Cair Paravel? Would she tell him if she did, or would she simply follow his lead? Maybe Edmund needed to just assume she would prefer a different room. But what if she found it insulting? In the morning, he could ask her, she had promised him honesty if he asked for it.

There, it was settled. He’d ask in the morning.

Oh, he was an unthinking moron. He should’ve asked her before they settled in to sleep tonight. But then again, he didn’t doubt that the Archenland court and staff would gossip wildly if they knew Y/N and Edmund slept in different rooms on their wedding night. The staff at Cair Paravel would be much more understanding, so maybe they needed to wait at least until they were in Narnia.

“Edmund?” Y/N said tentatively into the darkness.

“Yes?”

“Remember when you promised to do whatever I requested?”

“Yes.” Oh no, was she about to ask for a different room? Edmund decided he would be the one to leave. He didn’t want her walking around the halls on her wedding night, people were much more likely to question her than him.

“Will you…will you hug me?”

Edmund blinked. “Of course.” He shuffled over to her, and Y/N shuffled into his arms before he could decide on the logistics of hugging while horizontal.

His right arm acted as a pillow for Y/N’s head while his left curled around her back, holding her close. His fingers unintentionally tangled up in her hair, and it felt exactly as he’d expected. Y/N tucked her head just underneath his chin, the tip of her nose brushing the hollow of his throat. He rubbed her back gently, wanting to reassure her.

This was…surprisingly nice. Sure, maybe Edmund’s arm would fall asleep with Y/N laying on it, but until it fell asleep, it was very comforting. Y/N seemed to agree. He felt rather than heard the long exhale from Y/N’s body as she nestled into his embrace.

When he sleepily laid back a little so he wasn’t directly on his side, somehow Y/N’s head ended up in the crook of his neck. The last thing he remembered before falling asleep was Y/N’s hand slowly coming to rest on his chest.

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

White Moves First tag list:

@thesecretlifeofpenguins @read-just-cant @chesh-ire-cat @emotionallyattachedteen @cassini-among-the-stars @uncontainedsmiles @mastermasterlist1p1 @goldfishinpainttubes @silverowl102 @daisyslife

#narnia #chronicles of narnia #narnia fanfic #narnia fanfiction #edmund #king edmund #king edmund the just #edmund fanfic #edmund fanfiction #arranged marriage #friends to lovers #chess #marriage of convenience #royal marriage #edmund pevensie

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icebear4president · 5 months ago

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I really like the idea of c!Dream just writing letter after letter to c!Tommy after he revived him, and at first they’re begging for him to forgive him and come visit, then it starts turning really cryptic like:

Do you know how much you ruin things for people around you? You tear everyone down until they are merely a shell of their former selves, because you just can’t ever get anything right, can you?

I hope you’re happy-you know I was willing to spend an eternity with you. I was willing to give you a chance to live forever. You are ungrateful for the things I have done for you. I’ve given you friendship and everything you’ve every needed, and all I’ve gotten was a stab in the back. A hand pushing me down under the water until I could no longer breath.

You are suffocating.

No one else can have you.

You can’t escape the ending that is set in place for you, Tommy, you can’t escape fate. No one will care for you like I have. Everyone will leave you at some point, it’s a matter of finding people who ACTUALLY care for you. I care for you Tommy. I’m willing to put up with you.

I know you miss me, you can’t survive without me. I’m the thing that makes you you. Without me you are simply clay waiting to be molded for the hungry predator looking for their next feast.

You remember when I said you were like a disease? I meant it. You’ve infected me and now my story will never be finished until we have settled our differences.

That's okay though, because that's for future us to deal with— right?

See you soon, Tommy *insert Dream smiley face*

#ctommy #c!tommy #disc duo #primeboys (derogatory)#dsmp #this is purely self indulgent ramblings

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glazedsnail · 2 months ago

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EPILOGUE

I might love ShanexFern a little too much. I like broken people.

So here it is, epilogue to Misery Loved Company

It's very fluffy, which I'm not used to, I had to wait until I was 25 to write something where no one dies at the end. Oops spoiler.

For years I've been saying I want my corpse to be thrown somewhere in the woods for the worms to feast and then this guy shows up.

We were meant to be.

The setting summer sun casts a multitude of powerful rays in Fern’s kitchen. All the windows are open, hoping to let through a thin cooling breeze amongst the uninvited bugs. Over her blasting oven, the now well established farmer of Pelican town waits for her peppers to be done. The recipe for pepper poppers she got from her boyfriend was as simple as putting on socks, however she never managed to get them to taste like his. He had teased her about a so-called secret ingredient but she knew it was a lie. His homegrown peppers were maybe of better quality. That would explain why he would refuse to give back the plant of hot pepper he had so brazenly stolen from her property. After several arguments it had been settled that a loving label with his name on it was proof enough of ownership. It would have died without him anyway.

With a content smile, she takes the peppers out of the oven. It all seems so long ago now, when it’s not even been two years. But it can easily feel like an eternity when a relationship starts like theirs.

Now ready, Fern dishes out the peppers in a box she places in her basket, along with a cool pack of sparkling water cans, a bottle of strawberry juice, and a plate of homemade muffin. She laughs, grabbing a muffin and weighing it. None of her baked goods had been eaten but they proved to be amazing projectiles.

Shane invited her for a picnic much like that questionable date. She loves him, dearly. After all their personal hardships, what they’ve been through together, being able to call Shane her partner was a wonderful treat she’d never get tired of.

Fern had given herself some much needed pamper time after her day on the farm. Her small, humble sheepfold was now housing ten healthy sheep whose wool, handspun skein, were sent straight to the city. She was grateful for Shane’s help coming shearing time, and he was always particularly helpful with the chickens, but always refused payment.

In gold that is.

She looks at herself in the mirror one last time. No mud, no holes, no stains, her lavender scented short hair drying in the sun. She’s good to go. A last look at the pressed gerbera Shane had tucked behind her ear at the Flower Dance, preserved and framed next to the door. A sentimental token often mocked by the giver for being “corny as hell”.

Beyond the other side of the farm, at the edge of the forest, the atmosphere at Marnie’s ranch is a lot less peaceful.

‘Stop fidgeting so much or I’ll cut your ear!’

‘I didn’t need a haircut, why did I let you talk me into this.’

‘Because deep down you know you want to look your best for tonight.’

‘Aunt Fern told me she likes your hair, uncle Shane.’

Shane’s heart jumps. He always tries to look cool and untouched by Jas’ use of “Aunt Fern” but it always brings him some weird fuzzy feelings.

All grouped in the warm kitchen, Marnie over Shane’s wild locks, Shane bouncing and groaning, and Jas entertained by the scene at the other side of the table, wondering why her uncle is as nervous as she’s ever seen him.

‘Ok I’m done.’ Marnie puts the scissors on the table with a satisfied sigh. ‘Why are you so nervous?’ she asks, removing the fallen hair from his shoulders. ‘You see Fern every day. Sometimes I wonder how she can tolerate you that much.’ She laughs.

‘I saw them kissing behind the barn once, and then they saw me, and uncle Shane was as red as a tomato, aunt Fern too, and’

‘Jas.’

‘Red just like that!’ The little girl giggles, too amused by her uncle’s nervousness.

‘Jas, give him a break, he’s already so nervous’ Marnie winks.

‘I’m not nervous.’ he grumbles

‘You’re a wreck! Look at my kitchen, you spent the whole day cooking and making us eat. Jas and I won’t eat mushrooms for months after that.’ She pulls out the dirty pots and pans to illustrate. ‘You keep asking me about your appearance, which is a first in Yoba knows how long. You’re bouncing off the walls like nobody’s business, and I don’t know what you’ve got in your pocket but you keep ch…’ Marnie’s eyes widen in surprise and delight, quickly squinted by the giant smile drawing on her face. She squeals, bringing her hands to her lips, her eyes slowly watering. ‘Shane! Oh dear Yoba, this is fantastic!’

Shane groans, looking away.

‘Marnie…’

‘’What’s fantastic?’ Asks Jas who tries to connect the dots clearly spelling something for her very excited aunt.

‘I’ll stop talking, I don’t want to jinx it. Not that there are any risks of that mind you. Oh, Shane!’ She lunges herself onto her blushing nephew.

‘Fuck’s sake…’ He grumbles under his breath.

‘Language! She’ll never say yes if you keep talking like that.’

‘Say yes to what?’ Plead Jas, painfully ignored.

A knock on the door forces them to fall silent. Fern’s here.

‘Jas, shush, let’s go.’ Marnie grabs the child and swiftly scutters away to her bedroom, leaving Shane alone in the now surprisingly vast kitchen. He inhales deeply and stands up to open the door.

The sun is exploding behind Fern as a smile appears on her face the second she sees him at the door.

‘You’re ready to go?’ She asks.

Shane swallows painfully. The smile Fern gives him warms his heart with so much strength he can barely understand what he did to deserve it, or if he deserves it at all.

He nods, smiling back, and gets himself ready to cross the doorway.

‘Ahem.’

‘Hi Marnie, Hi Jas!’ shouts Fern from the door to the barely hidden family.

Marnie has an impossibly wide grin on her face, Jas is still unsure of what is happening but she enjoys the spy game.

‘Are you sure you’ve got everything?’ The mother hen asks from her hiding spot.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

Shane signs to her to leave him alone, and gently pushes Fern out to close the door.

‘Are they ok?’ Fern asks in a laugh. ‘Do they want to come with us?’

‘No! Hum, no, I mean, yes they’re fine.’

She laughs again, tucking a strand of his wild hair back.

‘You look great.’ she says, softly caressing his cheek. ‘Are you ok?’

His nervousness will give him away, but he can hardly control what he feels when she touches him, reminding him that for some crazy unexplained reasons she chose to be with him, that they are together.

‘Yeah… It’s nice to see you.’

She smiles, and starts walking in the direction of the forest. In one breath Shane quickly checks his pocket. It’s there. Everything’s fine. Everything will be fine.

‘Did you do all that?’

Between the parting trees giving to the cliff a blanket laid out on the ground welcomes them, scattered with well covered dishes and glasses, softly illuminated by well placed candles and tea lights against the darkening summer’s sky.

Shane blushes, visibly wanting to disappear in his collar. He grabs Fern’s hand and helps her down before sitting next to her.

‘I thought you’d like that.’ he says, slightly embarrassed.

‘This is lovely, Shane.’ She nuzzles into him, truly grateful. ‘I don’t know what I did to deserve you.’ She adds, planting a kiss on his red cheek, forbidding him to say or think anything deprecative about himself. ‘I love you, Shane.’ She whispers, all giddy after all this time to finally be able to say those words.

‘I love you.’ He replies, looking down. ‘So much.’ His hand slowly fingering the mermaid pendant in his pocket. Is now the right time? When would it be? Should they eat first? And more importantly, what if she says no?

‘Hey’ Fern softly grabs his hand ‘Where are you, miles away from here?’

Shane shakes his head off of all the infuriating scenarios that popped in his mind.

‘I’m a bit nervous.’ He laughs.

‘Tell me about it!’ She joins him in a laugh. ‘Why?’ Her smiling eyes now shadowed by concern.

‘I made your favourite and I’m scared it didn’t turn out well.’

‘I’m certain it’ll be perfect. It already smells amazing!’ She brings the plate of fried mushrooms to her and grabs a fork to have a taste, before bringing the fork to Shane’s mouth. He would rather drop dead than admit it, but he loves when she shares food like this.

Who’s the corny one now.

He shakes his head, actually surprised by the taste.

‘It’s delicious Shane, thank you.’

The sun is but orange light under the valley, and the crickets have started singing. Fern sighs, happy, nestled in her partner’s arms, watching the sun set over the cliff.

‘Do you remember the last time we were here?’ She asks in a grin. To her delight, Shane starts blushing. He does remember. ‘After the Flower Dance, you took my hand and we walked from the clearing to here without realising. She looks in the distance. ‘We talked for hours.’

‘I mainly remember your white dress.’ Shane says, clearing his throat.

‘I did try to clear the sap off it’ She giggles ‘and repair the tears. Kinda wanted to wear it tonight.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be, my love’ she whispers in his ear. ‘I remember that dress fondly, but the memory of how you treated it is far more precious.’

Shane shivers. It’s not her first time calling him “my love” but it always sounds so sweet.

‘You know’ Fern continues after a while. ‘I can’t remember if it was against that tree, or that one.’ She turns to Shane with a malicious smile, thoroughly enjoying her ability to make her rough looking man blush like a high school girl. She slowly nuzzles against his warm, now almost burgundy, neck. Despite all, she feels him tense up.

‘Shane?’

‘Do you remember the…other time we were at the cliff?’

Fern quickly grabs his hand.

‘Yes?’

‘Do you, hem, do you think you deserve this? That I’m worthy of you?’

Her eyebrows furrow on her hazel eyes. She sits down in front of him, on her knees.

‘I love all of you, Shane.’ she starts. ‘I always have. You’re not that one incident. You are much, much, more than what happened to you. Sure it shapes us but, in the end, despite all, you’re you. And I fell in love with you.’

‘Terrible decision making as always.’

‘Shane!’ She pushes him down, pinning him on the blanket. ‘I’m gonna stay there until you love yourself.’

‘We’ll be here a while!’ he laughs, wrapping his arms around her.

‘I have all the time, my whole life even, for you.’

Her soft but certain tone falls on Shane like an anvil. Her whole life for him. He tries to keep a steady breathing while she covers his neck in small kisses, astride his warming body. He tightens his embrace, burying his face in her neck and takes a deep breath. With a kiss on her cheek, he rolls her over, now on top of her.

‘Do you love yourself yet?’ Fern asks in a laugh, trying to sit up. She lets him get on his knees, while he reaches into his pocket.

‘I guess, enough to ask you this.’

#stardew valley fanfic #fanfic writing #failed writer #sad chicken man #stardew valley shane #stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv #fanfic #writing #epilogue #fanfics #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 fic #ao3 writer #shane x oc

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timelordian-disaster-126 · 11 months ago

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!!!BODY HORROR ART TW!!!

I have taken it upon myself to add more interesting headcanon lore to one of my favorite Villains in all of Doctor Who, the Mara 🐍🔮

The Mara is an unforgiving and relentless being that pushes one's deepest desires to the surface when possessing its host, it often takes possession of the host's mind and subjects them to harsh psychological/mental abuse through their subconscious mind. It presents itself through that of the host's dreams through terrible nightmares and terrors, often this makes the host unable to sleep normally, thus weakening them further to the grasp of the Maras's delight.

Here, the Mara often takes over the host body, feeding on their fears and emotions as the host body slowly becomes that of a second skin to the Mara. Over a long enough period, the host's body will eventually become scaly, and hard to move, the eyes will become yellow with sinister slits in the middle of them. Once the Mara is done feeding on the host, and when they have conformed to the serpent figure fully and is unable to live any longer due to the snake's inability to let the body care for itself, the Mara will discard the body by "shedding its skin" in which the Mara will exit the body through the mouth, leaving a husk of what was once typically a manussan local. From then it will go into a state of temporary dormancy until it is ready for its next feeding. From there it will scatter itself across all of manussa, planting itself in everyone, until one fool starts to give in to their desires, and from then; The Mara will strike when the next host is most vulnerable.

Of course, the Mara is also able to jump from host to host, as long as they are within reach, it can also spread itself to multiple people at one time, although this often leaves it confused and unable to keep an eye on all its prey. As we see with Tegan, the Mara can remain dormant in the mind of a host for however long it needs, either until the host gives into their desires, or until the Mara grows weak and needs another host. However, with Tegan, she deeply desires something she cannot have due to distance, and so, the Mara lays dormant, waiting to strike once again, its only a matter of time before it can feast once more.

Of course, the Mara does have one weakness, and that is of its own reflection, for the Mara wants you to give into your desires, and not confront them, facing itself in the mirror means to go against its own purpose, a fate in which is can't stand. Of course, if these desires strongly linger, sometimes, it can latch on longer than anticipated, waiting dormantly to strike once again.

The Mara on Manussa is seen as a powerful creature, one not to be messed with, the locals often put on an annual festival each year celebrate the supposed banishment of the Mara, there's often a ceremony held at the end of each festival, in which a person much overcome the Maras temptation and retrieve the great crystal and banish the Mara once and for all.

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

So I actually did redesign Lons outfit he wore during the ceremony of the Mara, I just thought his looked so goofy in the show and I had a "I can fix it 👹" moment, and so I did! :D I hope you guys enjoyed my lore idea! Let me know what you guys think!

(He looks like he wants to take a bath fully clothed in the original)

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akwolfgrl · 12 days ago

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How sweet it is to be loved by them

Boogie couldn't take it anymore. These kids had done more to protect his home than he himself had done. Even the dog had stood up to a lion to protect his home!

“Oooo I can't stand it anymore! I can't stand myself!” He wanted to rip his hair out. “You youngsters and Shushu have done more to protect my home than I have! We built this village forty years ago, and here I am doing nothing to stop these pirates from destroying my home! I have to be a man! I have to stand up for my village for my people! There are some fights that can't be avoided!”

“yah!” The kid in the straw hat cheered him as he got more fired up. “That's right!”

“You idiot don't encorge him!” The woman with orange hair yelled at the other Alpha.

He was sure she meant well, but his people, his village, had put him in charge, and he had failed them so far. Well enough was enough. He was going to do something about the pirates! Even if it killed him!

“This little village has grown in thouse forty years in a scussesful port! I put my blood sweat and tears into this town! The village and all of its inhabitants are my treasures! I will fight that damn Clown even if it's the last thing I do!”

Sanji watched as the Beta ran off, detrimed to get his ass beat. Sweet Nami had tried to stop him but failed in the end.

“Things just got more interesting.” Zoro laughed from beside him.

Luffy joined in with his laughter. “I agree!”

“What the hell is wrong with you! He can't fight Buggy the clown! He's going to get himself killed!” Nami shouted at Luffy, who only grinned at her. She was too kind, looking after a stranger. “How can you laugh at a time like this? Where do you get all that confidence?” Honestly, that was a great question, Luffy was strange.

“Don't worry, I won't let him get killed, I like him! We are going to the Grandline Nami, and we each have a goal in mind. Join my crew and become a pirate with us.” Luffy held out his hand for her to take.

“luffy isn't good at the word no, neither one of us intended on joining, but here we are.” Sanji remarked.

“I still hate pirates…but you three aren't awful, so how about instead of partners? We'll just call it corporation,” Nami slapped Luffys hand away. “I need to get the grandline anyway. I need someone to protect me, I stashed my treasures and need to get to the docks.”

“Great! Sanji, we need a feast to celebrate!”

“I'll be happy to take mademoiselle to the docks, also Luffy, I already told you no feast until we get to the next island, which won't be until after Zoro's rut!” Sanji yelled at Luffy. The Alpha was a bottomless pit. Luffy pouted, his arms crossed his chest, and the bottom lip was stuck out.

“But Sanji,” He whined. “We have to celebrate Nami becoming a crew member.”

“Coroparting, not crewmember!” Nami joined in the yelling.

“Enghugh yelling, let's go fight the damn Clown.” Zoro interrupted his black bandanna around his head, horns making the black fambic lumpy. The marimo was lucky he healed faster during his rut. Still Sanji worried, it was his job since the basdered had to regard to his own safty…not that he was one to talk.

Sanji grabbed zoro by his shirt and kissed him, slipping his tongue and cigarette smoke into the Alphas mouth. “Don't let me find out that Buggy the own killed your ass.” He warned as Zoro exhaled the smoker with a feral girn that made him look like the demon people claimed he was.

“Met you back at the ship Curls.”

“Are you ready to find your treasure?” Sanji turned his attention back on to the lovely lady. She would need his protection after stealing from Buggy.

“Yah let's go, if you can keep up.”

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pemberlyprose · 11 months ago

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How Greif Devours Identity in Hamlet: An Informal Short Essay

Inspired by If We Were Villians, I took it upon myself to freshen up on my Shakespeare. So, last night I finished reading Hamlet for the first time since my freshman year of college! It was a trip to relive all of my old annotations and notes on the play, and to dive back into Shakespeare after such a long time. Thank Folger Shakespeare Library for footnotes!

A few things caught my attention, especially the theme of identity and grief being so intertwined. So let's talk about it for a moment~~

As somone who has experianced a little too much grief in my lifetime, it was cathartic to read Hamlet and appreciate others processing loss. Shakespeare, the master of words and human emotion that he is, has painted the transformative... if not transfiguring... powers of grief on the human mind. This is not exclusive to the character of Hamlet himself, though his madness is the center of the play, but includes all the characters.

Since I have made myself promise this will be a short essay, i'll localize my thoughts on a specific passage:

"Not where he eats, but where he is eaten. A certain convocation of politic worms are e'en at him. Your worm is your only empoeror for diet. We fat all creatures else to fat us, and we fat ourselves for maggots. Your fat king and your lean beggar is but variable service-- two dishes but to one table. That's the end" (Act 4, Scene 3).

So, here's the thing... I took this a little differently than Shakespeare may have intended in this scene. The talk of the "worms" which feast on us when we are dead made me think of The Corpse Bride by Tim Burton.

In Emily's ear is a maggot that acts as her concience. He eats at her mind and replaces her thoughts with his own. I couldn't help but feel that is exactly what grief has done to these characters. Like worms, fattening upon each character, sorrow, revenge, fear, and guilt all crawl into the ears of the court and feast until there is nothing left.

For example, take Hamlet at the end of this play. Hamlet is "not where he eats," which would be an action of taking the King's life and digesting what has happened to his father, but ends "where he is eaten" by the guilt of not being able to override his character and seek revenge on Claudius until the last moment. Try as he might to change the course of fate (hah, get it course lol), the ending remains the same. Which leads to the line "two dishes but to one table."

We see this all throughout the novel as different sets of characters come to the table: Claudius x King Hamlet, Hamlet x Claudius, Hamlet x Mother, Opheilia x Hamlet, Laertes x Hamlet... etc. Even the lesser characters die in pairs like Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. Two lives devoured together at the same table.

I think this is an interesting way of looking at volitile emotions and understanding how people struggle to cope. Grief can eat at you, literally, and it not only leads to a physical deterioration but to a death of self. No matter how clever and careful you are going about it, no matter what reasons you have, acting against one's character will always eat at one's concience. Especially when you look around and see the other people in your life feasting on the same meal at the same table.

So while grief can feel like a worm in our minds, it's also more common among our companions than we see. Too blinded by our own struggles, we let emotions devour our sense of self, and can't see how our behavior reflects and is reflected back to us. We are what we eat, in all senses.

Which is why I think that Hamelt is an exceptional play on how emotions can play (or prey) on us!

Updated edition of the Folger Shakespeare Library edited by Barbara A. Mowat and Paul Werstine used in this essay :)

#literature #dark academia #books & libraries #romantic academia #aesthetic #classic academia #books #words #light academia #book quotes #if we were villains #william shakespeare #hamlet #shakespeare #personal #corpse bride #picture source: pinterest

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spinningwebsandtales · 1 year ago

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Imagine Going To A Haunted House With Obi

Obi Akitaru X FemReader

Rating: T+

Warnings: Haunted house goodies galore filled with splatter filled dreams, suggestive themes

Word Count: 1.7k

(A/N:) Here it is folks my yearly Halloween Obi fic! This just became my own little tradition and I'm not gonna lie I look forward to it every year! I just adore this man! 💜 I can't lie either I enjoyed writing the haunted house part, because I am a sick and twisted person. I'm not sorry. I hope to get some more Halloween goodies posted throughout this month so keep your eyes peeled as I continue to work whenever I can. Until next time happy reading! ~Countess

Halloween was always you and Obi's special night. Date nights were always planned for October 31st and this year you both decided to miss out on the Fire Force's annual Halloween Party and have some much needed alone time. Things had been crazy around the 8th and it was beginning to finally slow when the fateful day finally came around. This year you both had written several different ideas down on strips of paper and placed them in Obi's helmet. You both were to pick one strip of paper apiece and those activities would be done on the date. Obi picked enjoying the downtown Halloween festival and your slip had you both a little nervous as it said 'visit a haunted house.' You both asked Shinra and the crew what house would be the best to visit and every single one of them picked the scariest one that existed in Tokyo. Now you both couldn't back down from the challenge as your crew would think you two cowards. You looked at Obi nervously but he just shrugged his shoulders.

Halloween came around quickly and with the team occupied with celebrating their night in their own fashion, you and Obi were free to enjoy yourselves. The day was chilly, a crisp breeze flowing through the streets. The giggles of children and parents keeping a close eye filled the busier neighborhoods. Obi took your hand giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm glad we don't have to go to that horrible party like we did last year," you spoke watching a group of children pass by with a struggling parent lagging behind. Obi chuckled squeezing your hand a little tighter. Being captain was a job he loved but it did have it's downsides.

"It wasn't that bad," he replied causing you to pout. "Okay it was bad."

"Keep doing that Obi and all you'll be getting on this hallowed night is tricks," you teased.

"Don't be stingy now," he purred.

You ducked from Obi's searching lips, escaping from his grip to trot down the sidewalk. Despite his large and muscular body, Obi was fast when he wanted to be. It didn't take long for him to catch up and catch you. Picking you up easily and pulling you into his chest, where all you could do was laugh.

Walking a little further you could smell the festival on the breeze. A mix of warm spiced apple cider, caramel apples, and popcorn tickling your nose. You glanced at Obi before giving his hand a squeeze and dragging him a little faster. Surrounded by various booths of food and games it was a Halloween wonderland that you never wanted to end. All the games that had to do with strength, Obi excelled in them. You felt a little bad for the people running the booth as they lost money to the large Fire Force captain. But once that cute fuzzy prize was placed in your arms, you didn't feel all that bad anymore. Before Obi could continue to clean out all the booths from their prizes, you both were ready for some food from the different stalls. Splitting up Obi wanted to grab the food while you went to a different booth for drinks. You were done first so it was up to you to find a table. You were getting nervous as it seemed like everywhere was took up, until a couple just finished up and left a table close to the entrance. You snagged it quickly, setting the drinks and your prizes down.

Obi found you a little later with a feast in tow. How he carried it all on his own was amazing and the food tasted wonderful. With empty food cartons and cups, the sun began to set. The temperature dropped lower causing you to shiver a little at a nippy breeze.

"Ready to go to the haunted house," Obi asked gathering up the trash.

"No," you answered honestly.

"Me either," he laughed. "But it was in the hat and I'm sure you were the one who wrote it down."

"I couldn't think of anything!"

"Don't worry," he whispered in your ear, "I'll protect you."

The haunted house was about a five minute walk from the festival and you both found that the line inside was even closer due to the amount of people waiting. The haunted house didn't open until later that day and unfortunately you both hadn't planned on a big line starting early. Now you got to stand in line and dread going in more as the echoes of screams pierced the night. Obi squeezed your hand as you flinched at every high pitched blood curdling scream. Despite being in line for almost half and hour it felt like a blink and you both were at the entrance. The outside workers with lights in hand waved you both through and shut the door with a loud boom behind you.

The darkness swallowed you both whole and you could feel Obi shivering. So much for protecting you from the ghouls in the house. You both faced Infernals on a daily basis but a haunted house was already proving to be too much and you both just entered. Taking a deep breath Obi stepped forward first keeping a tight grip on your hand, leading you into the eerily lit dark. The first room you entered was splattered with fake blood and severed limbs on chains dangling from the ceiling. Somebody was strapped to the table in a bloody gown, screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Help me! He's going to kill me help me!"

You jumped squeezing tighter to Obi when a large man leapt out from behind a curtain, chainsaw in hand running towards you and Obi. A scream left your throat and you raced from the room dragging Obi with you. Leaving the chainsaw maniac behind, a hallway was between this room and the next. Dolls sitting on the shelves and the only lights were directed on them. Some dolls' hands were waving, some of their heads were spinning. Majority of them were missing eyes, limbs, and only tufts of hair were left on their heads.

"Come play with us," the dolls giggled.

"Come," their voices were growing lower.

"Play," lower.

"With us," they finished in a voice that sounded like it belonged to a creature from the Underworld. It was that moment a ghoulish looking woman raced from behind a secret wall, screaming as blood drained from her empty sockets. You clung to Obi who also held onto you as you both screamed.

Escaping the hallway you made it into the next room. Jail cells surrounded the walls, rusty and dank. You could swear you could smell something cooking. A warden circled around the room, bloody keys jingling on his duty belt while the judge stood beside an electric chair. Zombie prisoners reached between the decrypted bars trying to grab a hold of you and Obi. One snagged the hem of your shirt and tugged roughly, pulling you down on the floor where rotten teeth reached for your neck. You screamed trying to tug yourself from the creature's grip. Obi was at your side yanking you up from the floor as the judge pulled the lever on the electric chair. The inmate screaming as sparks flew. That was the last straw as you both booked it from the room.

"This is not fun," you panted.

"I know when it's coming but it doesn't make it any less terrifying," Obi agreed keeping a better grip on you.

You both were only halfway through the house and there was several more areas to go through. You and Obi screamed and ran your way through a butcher shop, a devilish pet shop full of evil creatures for adoption, and a haunted abandoned school room, before the last obstacle loomed before you both. The Graveyard. There was the glorious glow of the exit light across the graveyard. Looking up at your brave and handsome captain, you both took the first step forward. That triggered the zombie apocalypse. The undead stepped from their foggy places, groaning and screaming at the sight of prey. A few were still stuck in their graves, reaching for your ankles as you stumbled by. Obi kept you upright, his chest heaving at the exertion and complete terror taking over his body. The movies always made zombies look slow, these were everything but. Rotten teeth glistening in the haunted sickly moonlight. It was beginning to feel like an eternity to that precious glow at the end, like a light at the end of a demented tunnel. You stumbled again and Obi took matters into his own hands. In one smooth motion you were lifted up again and pulled into the air. You had a moment of weightlessness until you landed in Obi's arms. He held you tightly gripping you to his well toned chest as his legs churned faster. He had kept his speed slower so you could keep up better, until he no longer had to worry about you tripping and falling. In seconds you both crossed the finished line. The zombies departed going back to their start positions to wait for the next victims through the door.

Though he carried you through the ending you both were panting hard. You looked up at Obi before starting to laugh. Despite still trying to catch his breath he began to laugh too.

"We survived," you joked.

Obi nodded pulling you in for a deep kiss.

Back at the station your friends were waiting for your return. They hounded you both with questions before Obi held out tickets for each one of them. After the torture they had caused making you go to the scariest thing in Tokyo, there was no way they were going to get away with it. Giving them the tickets and shoving them out the fire station door, Obi led you to your shared bedroom. He closed the door firmly turning the lock as his gaze darkened.

"Am I still getting nothing but tricks this evening," he purred nipping at your neck.

"Well you are my hero of the evening," you hummed, threading your fingers through his hair. "And you carrying me through that graveyard was pretty hot. I think you earned yourself a treat."

Obi chuckled, "Happy Halloween."

"Happy Halloween," you replied pulling him down for a sweet kiss.

#Akitaru Obi X Reader #Akitaru Obi / Reader #Akitaru Obi Imagine #Akitaru Obi #Fire Force #Fire Force Imagine #Imagine #Not My Gif #My Writing

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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Loving & Leaving - Part 6

Visit the series page here.

A/N: The ending we all deserve 😭 Thank you so much for your love and support on this one. Writing these two was so fun and I secretly never want it to end. I did a quick lil poll on Saturday and you guys want to see more! So, there will be more at some point, probably sprinkled in with other requests. Or if you have an idea for me, send it over when requests open again!

Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+ Content, swearing, breastfeeding.

As an event planner, and a bride, I’m throughly impressed with how our wedding has turned out.

When Timo suggested on Day 2 of Lio’s life that we get married before the season, I looked at him like he was crazy. But then, Rhea came to visit us in the hospital. I casually mentioned the possibility of a small, September wedding to her. My best friend’s eyes began to sparkle.

“Just say go and I’ll get it together.” She held her hands in front of her face like she was pleading with me.

Timo said go before I could stop him.

The reality of it all coming together was better than if I had two years to plan it. Rhea and I called in favor after favor from our contacts. Our beloved vendors showed up in droves, offering their services despite the quickness to create a perfect day for us. The biggest surprise was the availability of the Storchen in Zurich. Their gorgeous banquet room easily houses the 75 people who are here to celebrate our nuptials. It’s a smaller group because of the timing, which is tine with us. Timo and I would have been fine just us and Lio.

I’m grabbing another glass of champagne at the bar, taking the opportunity to appreciate our work. It really has been the best day. From getting ready, to the first look and our written vows, even when Lio spit up on Timo’s jacket and he had to go without for the ceremony. It was all perfect. I wouldn’t have changed a thing.

“Here you are. Congratulations, Emma!” Marc, the bar manager, cheers me with a wink.

“Thank you. For everything today.”

“Only for you. We are going to miss you.”

“I’ll be back.” I nod earnestly.

And I will be. While Rhea is running our business in Switzerland, I’ll be launching it in New Jersey. I’m both excited and terrified at the prospect of going international with the little business I formulated out of college. Timo keeps assuring me there is no way I can fail. Not when we are together.

My lips twist up at the thought. I turn, leaning back against the bar and seeing my husband across the room in conversation with Nico and Philipp Kurashev. He looks so damn good tonight. I can barely wait to have him. He’s standing next to the wall of windows, sipping a drink and listening to Nico speak. A chuckle shakes his shoulders. His gaze lifts, scanning the people until his blue eyes rest on me. He scans along my body, smiling bigger in recognition of my look. He tosses me a wink.

But there is no more game to play. We’ve already caught each other for life.

He moves back into conversation with my brother, adding something that makes both Nico and Phillipp laugh. I bite my lip, deciding I’m done not being the center of his attention. My brown eyes feast on my husband as I approach the three men. Timo laughs loudly and then takes a long pull from his whiskey. As he lowers the glass, his blue gaze finds me closer than before. Timo steps through the circle, completely uninterested in the conversation now that I’m within touching distance.

“Mrs. Meier.” It’s more than a greeting. The tone of his voice is ecstatic as his lips find mine. I sigh, melting briefly into his chest. One of his hands slides down my side to my ass, resting there confidently.

“Your wife needs help.” I breath out when we pull apart.

“With?”

“Getting out of this dress.” His eyes deepen before scanning down my body.

“Lead the way.”

I slide my hand into his and we begin to walk from the room together. Soon, we are out of the event space and alone in the hall. Timo takes the opportunity to put his lips against my neck. I suck my cheeks in, nibbling briefly before an unstoppable moan falls from my mouth. I stop in front of the bridal suite, hand on the knob, tilting my head more to the side as his lips explore further. His tongue dips into the crook of my neck.

“Open the door.” He murmurs around his kisses. I do as I’m told so we can walk in together. Once the door is shut, he begins tugging at his tie. “You need help with something else besides this dress?” I bite my lip, nodding enthusiastically.

“There are rules to this though.” I say, watching him while trying to keep my desire at bay a little longer. “You need to undo the buttons completely. No ripping.” His eyes narrow slightly but he nods.

“Turn.” He demands as he approaches. I do so and sweep the curled tendrils of my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck. “Remember last time I took a dress off of you?” He presses his mouth to the meaty part of my neck, sinking his teeth in there for a moment.

“Yes, we have a six week old as a daily reminder.” Goosebumps break out onto my skin as I feel Timo’s fingers on the first button. I close my eyes and focus on deep breaths to take the edge off. I want him. Every part of him. Every inch of his skin on mine until the ache I have for him settles into something more bearable. The fabric begins to separate as he works a few more buttons loose. He stops for a moment, leaning forward and placing his lips against the indents bruising my skin.

“Mmm.” I hum. Timo stills.

“Baby.” His voice is a low, warning of a growl. “Let me rip this off you. I will buy you a new one.” My eyes open and meet his in the vanity mirror in front of us. He looks like a man possessed- blue eyes molten, tight jaw, nostrils flared. I shake my head because I can’t say the word no when he is looking at me like that. He sucks his cheeks in and pushes out a heavy exhale before continuing.

His fingers move faster, more careless with each slice of skin exposed to him. Finally, the last button releases and the fabric loosens around my upper body. Timo’s hands slide around, finding my wet folds, brushing each of his fingers against them. I lean back into his chest as he stokes me. His jaw brushes my temple as I feel him pulling steady breaths into his lungs. My eyes open and I watch us together in the mirror. The grip of desire tugs at me from deep within and I pant when he grinds his hips into me. Even through the fabric of my dress, I can feel how hard he is.

“How are you going to fuck your wife for the first time?” I ask into the mirror. He grins as he nibbles against the side of my throat. His fingers stretch my folds open to forcefully press into my clit with his middle finger. My knees buckle, shoving my ass into his hard length.

“Exactly how she likes it.” He says against my wet skin. “Fast… and deep… until she can’t speak.”

With that, I pull my arms from the straps of my dress and turn. Timo wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me up so the dress falls completely to the ground. He sets me down immediately. I begin tugging at his belt, needing him as quickly as possible. Timo watches me with those same hungry eyes as I pull him from his pants and slide my lips against the plumped head. I only get a few licks and sucks before he is pulling me off of him, guiding me to lean against the back of the couch. He shoves his pants the rest of the way down so they settle around his ankles. Then his hands are on my hips, roughly pulling me back to him. His plumped head bumps against my entrance before he eases me down. My fingers curl into fists at how tightly he fills me.

“You okay?” He groans, aware that we haven’t had sex much since Lio was born. Sure, it’s a little uncomfortable, but I don’t care about that. The pain I need him to ease right now is a tight coil in my abdomen, begging for release. My manicured nails dig deeply into my palms as I assure him I’m fine and plead him to move.

“Fuck. My wife feels incredible.” He praises. He leans over me and begins to fuck me exactly like he told me he would. I reach back, shoving his white shirt away so our bodies can connect fully with no barriers.

“T, I’ve been needing you like this all day” I cry. I feel his chest rumble with agreement along with a breathy kiss on my neck. “Just like that.” I encourage him as each thrust fills me completely. I wrap my hand around the back of his neck, then turn to wetly kiss his mouth.

“I can tell. You’re so wet.” He pulls out less and less each time until I feel the coil intensify to the point I can’t breathe. His balls slap me hard with each intense thrust. My mouth fades away from his as I feel the release begin. It crashes into me, rushing through my veins, tightening my nipples and making my husband groan deep in his chest. His grip on my hips is powerful as I feel his warm cum coat my walls. He pushes out a strangled breath, resting his forehead against my back. For a few moments, only our heavy breathing fills the room. Finally, Timo raises his head, placing kisses along my back where the divots are still present from my dress.

I stand to my full height and turn to drape my arms around his shoulders. He slides his arms around me, hands pressing me tightly to him. I lay my cheek against his chest. We sway gently, holding one another intimately after the best day of our lives.

“That was spectacular.” I murmur to him.

“That was just round one, baby.” He smooths my hair delicately as he talks.

“Good. Because I have something for you later that you’ll like.” I smile coyly, thinking of the bridal lingerie I purchased for us.

“We don’t… need to go back right? We can just leave and head to bed.”

“No.” I narrow my eyes at him, pulling away. “Plus, some things are worth the wait.”

“I hate waiting to have you.” He teasingly snarls his lip at me. I shrug my shoulders which makes my breasts dance against the buttons of his shirt. My nipples tighten into large points. Timo pouts, knowing they’re off limits. I chuckle lightly, stepping away from him. He immediately reaches for my hand, tugging me back into his chest. His ocean eyes drink me in- sparkling eyes, pink cheeks, and smudged lip paint from his kisses. The smile he gives me has my knees weak. “How am I lucky enough to have you forever?”

“I was just wondering the same thing.” I lean forward and give him a sweet, sincere kiss. His hand travels down, grabbing a fistful of my bare butt. “Love you, T. For the rest of my life.” We stare at each other for another few moments before a knock sounds at the door. Timo turns so my naked body is shielded by his.

“Hey! Meiers! It’s cake time!” I hear Rhea’s voice come through the door. “Quit fucking and get out here!” She doesn’t even give us a chance to respond before she is off down the hallway again, laughter following her steps.

“I think our reputation has caught up with us.” I press a final kiss to his lips before crossing the room for my reception dress. It’s ivory fabric that drapes to mid calf. The A line cut gives way to sleeves that drape along my biceps for an off the shoulder look. I slide into it then turn to my husband for him to zip me up. I rearrange my diamond necklace and kick off my heels to slide into sparkling, pink sneakers. I turn to Timo for his approval.

“Perfect.” I nod in appreciation, then walk across the room to retouch my lipstick.

In the meantime, Timo redresses in his pants. He works the buttons of his shirt down so it isn’t tight against his throat anymore. He sheds his tie and rolls up his sleeves to expose his tan forearms. I pause from replacing the cap on my lipstick as he finishes the last roll of his shirt. Our eyes meet in the mirror again and we share a familiar smile.

“Ready, Mrs. Meier?” He reaches a hand out for me- the hand I get to hold for the remaining decades in my life. I click the cap into place and nod.

“Ready, Mr. Meier.” We both giggle then begin a leisurely walk to rejoin our party.

_ _ _

Our honeymoon is set to begin in under an hour, but Timo and I are struggling to get out of bed after our late night.

I’m feeding Lio, ghosting my fingers over his nose at each one of his suckles. Timo is scrolling through our reservations for Italy, making sure everything is in order before we leave. We picked Italy because it’s nostalgic for both of us. We have spent numerous family vacations there growing up, plus we didn’t want to be too far away from Lio for our first time away.

“Do you need anything?” Timo asks me, looking at Lio, surprised at seeing him still actively eating. He’s definitely in a growing stage.

“No, we are okay.” I assure him. I take my hand off Lio’s face, lacing my fingers with Timo’s left hand. I bring it to my face, kissing along his fingers while he checks the last reservation.

“Okay, I think we are all set.. whenever he is done.” As Timo says that, Lio releases, moving his face away.

“Magic!” I grin at my husband, handing Lio over.

Timo begins to pace the room with our son, exclaiming excitedly at every burp that works out of his little body. When he is done, they both return to the bed next to me. We soak in every little noise and expression on our baby’s face. A few bubbles of drool collect on his lips as he wiggles awkwardly around in my arms. Timo reaches out to wipe the the spit from Lio’s chin. My eyes catch the silver wedding ring around his finger. I turn to him, pressing my lips to his cheek. He works his lips over to mine, gliding his tongue along the seam of my mouth.

“Mmm, just like I thought last night. You taste better as my wife.” He murmurs. I wrinkle my nose in appreciation. Rounds 2 and 3 were pretty damn good.

“Maybe we can change our plans and take him with us?” I question, searching his blue eyes as a crease appears between his brows.

“No. I don’t want to share you. Not even with the world’s cutest baby.” As if on cue, Lio blows spit bubbles, shoving his tongue out at us.

“He doesn’t want us to leave.” I giggle, bringing him up to my face to kiss his cheek.

“How we gonna give him a sibling if he’s in the room with us the whole time?”

“Shut your beautiful mouth. I am not doing that again right now.”

Timo’s laughter fills our room as I pant in exasperation.

“Next year?”

“Maybe.” I respond, brushing Lio’s brown locks off his forehead. His eyes close at my touch, snuggling deeper into my propped thighs.

“We need to go soon.” Timo reminds me.

“Five more minutes, daddy.” He nods, as I manuever my head into his lap. As he strokes his fingers through my hair, he lays his head against the headboard, eyes closing. We are quiet together, listening to Lio’s sweet noises as he begins to fall asleep sucking on his hand. “Thank you.” I break the silence, pressing a kiss to Timo’s abdomen. “For all the planned and unplanned parts of our life.”

“Not sure any of this was really planned.” He responds without opening his eyes.

“Maybe not. But I dreamed of it… with you.” His eyes pop open to look down at me. “Two summers ago. On the dock at Nico’s house when he was in Milan. That’s when I fell in love with you.” His smile stretches his lips apart. “Yeah, I know. I suck for not admitting that sooner.”

“No, I.. I knew, Em. That was when you started touching me different. And holding my hand in the car and laying with me for hours in bed, long after you should have kicked me out.”

“I didn’t like watching you leave much after that. It was a peek at our life together. And I liked it.”

“Me too. It’s why I started getting so frustrated with you.”

“How about I make it up to you for the next 60 years?” He sucks in a deep breath, looking at the ceiling like he’s really contemplating. I scoop Lio up to my face to press feathery kisses along his soft head while I wait. Timo watches me as I do this, unable to hide the joy that fills his body.

“Only because you look that beautiful holding our baby.”

“Please, please, please, please let’s take him!”

“No.” Timo insists. “Give him one last smooch and I’m bringing him to Auntie Liss.” I can’t just do one. So after five kisses, we leave the bed and meet Timo’s sister, Larissa, in our kitchen.

“Take him before she tries to smuggle him into the car.” Timo jokes, handing Lio to his sister. “He should be good to go for a couple of hours. Em just fed him and he’s been changed. Hopefully he will be passed out before we leave the driveway.”

“Okay! Are you ready to have some fun, bubs?” She bounces him, lightly patting his butt too. “We will be fine.” She says to where I watch across the room. I bite my lip, giving pleading eyes to my husband.

“You promised me 60 years of make up sex. And you’re paying up starting the minute we check in.”

“That is not what I said!” I widen my eyes at his sister. She shrugs.

“I don’t care what you do as long as it keep giving me these cute babies.”

“Call if you need anything or have any questions or…”

“Bye!” Timo calls as he places his hands on my hips, forcing me backwards.

“One more kiss.”

“You’re making this harder on yourself.” He chuckles.

I know he is right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to leave.

When we arrive in Italy, our hotel staff greets us with enthusiasm. They grab all of our bags, hand us each a cappuccino, and personally escort us to the honeymoon villa on the property. It’s decked out to the nines with charcuterie and snacks. The best part is a bucket of champagne chilling on the table for us along with a box of chocolate covered strawberries. Timo wiggles his eyebrows excitedly at me, grabbing the chilled bottle.

“Wanna grab some glasses, baby?” He asks me, untwisting the metal basket atop the cork.

I glance around, seeing a few wine glasses resting by the fridge.

“These will do.” I insist, setting them in front of him. He gives us both a healthy pour.

“To us. Forever.” He clinks our glasses together as I smirk. I take a big swallow of bubbles, enjoying their explosions along my tongue. “Oh this is excellent.” He nods his head, turning the bottle to look at the label again.

As he does that, I set my glass back on the counter and reach out for the button of his shorts. He quickly turns from the bottle with curious and excited eyes.

“You said pay up right away.” I shrug innocently.

I work his zipper down, then glide my hand into his underwear. I stroke him once, then twice, maintaining eye contact with each pass over his length. I grin when I get him to close his eyes in a long blink. He exhales gently, firming fully in my hand as I stroke my thumb along his thick vein. I lean forward, filling his mouth with my tongue. He matches my aggressive kisses, both of us sucking each others lips.

“I want you down my throat.” I tell him when I pull away. He observes with greedy eyes as I get on my knees. My hair is down, but his hands work it back from my face so he can watch his cock inch into my mouth. His jaw drops open in a strangled groan as I take him all the way back immediately. His abdominal muscles tighten under where my nose bumps into them.

“Baby.” He moans as I wrap my fingers around the base of his shaft, stroking up as my throat wraps around his tip. “Oh fuck.” He jolts as I work his balls over with my other hand. “Again.” He begs me, fingerprints pressing firmly into my neck to push himself deeper. He opens his eyes, looking down at me on my knees. “You look so good right now with my cock in your mouth.” He reaches down to put his hand in my bra, palming my breast. I release his balls to grip his wrist as a reminder my breasts are filled with milk. “I know. Just gonna hold ‘em.”

“Am I being a good wife?” I ask him, dragging my tongue along the vein from base to tip.

“The best. You were made for me, baby.” He holds my chin, sputtering as I rest him against my tongue, wiggling along the cleft of his head.

“This mouth is yours now. Take it.” I sit back on my heels, mouth dropped open, tongue out as he guides himself back in. He widens his stance a bit, then puts his hands on both sides of my head and begins to fuck my mouth. He is gentle at first, then as he gets closer, he is wild. I reach up, gripping my hand tightly along his base and rolling his balls in my hand. His fingers spread along my whole head now, watching each flicker of joy in my eyes at his moans.

“I’m close.” He warns me, but I already know. He is tight and pulsing in my hand, begging for release as he slides a bit further down my throat. I hold back my gag, relaxing my throat so he can get to where he wants to be. I wiggle my tongue along the bottom. He sputters out a grunt, then brings himself a bit out of my mouth so I can collect his cum by stoking him through. I curl my tongue in, bringing the salty ribbons together to show him my collection. Then I fold it all back, swallowing it as he watches with hooded lids.

“When is dinner?” He eventually gathers the words to speak.

“Ten minutes.”

“We need to skip it.” He insists as I tuck him back into place. I work his zipper back up, then replace his button. Besides the taste of him in my mouth, it’s like it never happened. I smile, thinking of the times that used to matter when I would suck him off in the bathroom at Nico’s house before we would return, separately, to whatever party my brother was hosting.

“I need to eat.” I respond. He reaches his hands out for me to take and pulls me to a standing position.

“How? I just fed you.”

“Ah!” I laugh, slapping at his chest. “Let me fix my lipstick and we can head to dinner.”

“Okay, but no pasta. I want you ready to go later.”

“Do not ever tell me what I can and can’t eat.” I snap, pointing my finger at his nose. He still has a faint scar from the big playoff hit two years ago. He rolls his eyes at my exaggeration, feigning like he’s going to bite my finger off.

“You’re going to fall asleep before I can have you, huh? You’ll be like, no let’s just cuddle for a minute, then I’ll be ready.” He mocks me with a loud snore. I scoff. I do not snore. He does since his broken nose.

“Maybe.” I shrug, sauntering to my purse to grab my YSL pink lipstick. “Tell you what. If I do, you can wake me up at 2 am to fuck. Like old times.”

“Deal.” He muses, folding his hands together against my stomach. He rests his chin on my shoulder, watching me in the mirror with adoring baby blues as I stroke the pink onto my lips. “You are so beautiful.” He says against my shoulder as he drops plump kisses along my warm skin.

“It’s cause I’m in love.” I turn my face to him. He gently kisses me, then pulls away completely.

“I’m going to head to the lobby and check in with the front desk about breakfast tomorrow. I’ve got a surprise for you.” He wiggles his brows at me tauntingly. “See you in five minutes?”

“Yeah.”

“Kay. I love you, Emma Meier.” I widen my eyes excitedly at my new name.

“I love you.” I whisper back. He sighs happily, staring at me for another few seconds, then disappears from our room.

After freshening up, I go to where Timo waits for me in the hotel lobby. His back is towards me as I come from the courtyard, admiring him. He’s wearing a white, linen button up shirt, stretched wide across his strong shoulders. His hands are in his khaki pockets, expensive Swiss watch shining in the low lighting. The sun is setting over the rolling, grassy hills in front of him as he gazes out at the Italian country side. I fold my bottom lip into my mouth, taking in the way he commands attention from the other patrons. He looks so expensive and compelling. The rest of the world wishes to know him- what’s going on behind that intense blue gaze.

Sometimes, only I know.

As I approach, I reach out for his arm, threading my hand through to dive into his pocket. Our fingers glide together. I’m blissful as the warm metal of his ring strokes my skin.

“You waiting for someone?” I inquire to him like we are strangers. He dips his gaze to me, ignoring the spectacular beauty dancing in front of us to look only at me.

“Yeah, the love of my life.”

“Ah, I better go then.” I move to leave, but his hand possessively holds me in place.

“You and your fucking jokes.” He mutters against my mouth. My shoulders shake with a silent laugh lost on his tongue.

“You’ve always been mine.” I soothe his mild frustration, gliding my hands along his abdomen to hold the muscular swells of his back. “Will be in our next lifetime too.” He rests his chin on my head in a gentle hug.

“You gonna avoid me for years then too?”

“Probably. You gonna put up with that?” He teases his lips over mine, pulling me tighter to him so I can feel him rigid against my stomach.

We aren’t going to make it to dinner.

“Yeah.” It’s a breathless sigh from his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for your loving & leaving.”

#TM: Loving & Leaving #Timo Meier #Timo Meier smut #Timo Meier series #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #hockey writing #NHL writing

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beesmygod · 2 years ago

Text

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 1

imagine you are celebrating your big promotion at the pigeon crushing factory (in this world you make a living crushing pigeons into a cube, this isnt important) and decide to treat yourself to a delicious hibachi feast at the local grill. as you sit down, your chef introduces himself to you; to your surprise, the chef is reknown mangaka hirohiko araki!

"wow, amazing!" you think to yourself, "i can't wait to see what delicious treats he has waiting for me, especially after that scrumptious part 4 i had last time". araki smiles knowingly, seeing the recognition of his talent in the gleam of your wide eyes. with a dramatic flourish, begins his work. a wild and frenzied solo performance begins. ingredients are chopped and flung with dazzling accuracy, speed, and showmanship until you are presented with the fruits of his labor: a new dish, just for you.

there's one problem. he forgot to turn on the grill. or maybe he never meant to. his confidence leaves you unsure of what to do when he starts flinging raw onions into your mouth and encouraging you to chew. like the tragic chef from the clickhole video, he has served you a plate of raw chicken and vegetables and is now looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to dig in.

youtube

its not all bad. you can eat some of the veggies as long as they don't touch the chicken, but the majority of it is inedible. you didnt even get to see him do the cool onion thing. you push the plate back unfinished and hoping for an explanation for what the fuck just happened but when you look up, you realize araki has already left. his big chef hat and coat are lying on the floor where he shed them on his new journey to start a raw foods store having discovered his passion for organic veggies. next time you crush so many pigeons you get another promotion, you try the new store and its delicious. can't fault him, i guess!

this is the experience of watching jojo part 5.

---

and LOOK. i'm not lacking in perspective here. its presumptuous to say "i can do better" or "i could fix this" when it comes to anyone's work, let alone the work of someone singular like hirohiko araki. no one's brain operates the way his does, as evidenced by the paltry and weak attempts by the spin-off artists who struggle to recapture that same magic; they all lack whatever je ne se quoi araki has tapped into that's off limits to every other human on planet earth.

straight up, my approach to storytelling is too conventional to be a good replacement for araki's (who seems to be just completely unhinged both on and off the page) so my suggestions to "fix" part 5 are going to be broad strokes and not finely tuned fanfictions. there are just...things i would have like to see happen. and the list is long enough that i think it necessitates that this essay be done in parts. but everything you need to fix it is right there within the existing text. much like the bad meal, the manga (presumably, i only watched the anime. no! stop booing me!) has all the ingredients, the passion, and the skills to create a satisfying end result, its genuinely just missing the ability to bring it all together in a satisfying way. and it is so, so frustrating to watch unfold from the comfort of your couch.

however, for people not in the jojo know-know (who are just reading this bc it started with a pigeon crushing metaphor and you wanted to see where it was going), i do have to explain the historical lens we have to consider with part 5: it wound up being the first evolutionary step of araki's change in art style and story-telling conventions. the fashion aesthetics are wilder, the stakes are bigger, and the stands (WAY) more esoteric. with hindsight, we can look back and understand that it turned out to be weird because he was experimenting in real time (as artists who work serially have to due to the nature of the job) with what he was interested in and what he wanted to explore. so there's nothing WRONG with part 5 in the cosmic sense. and it wasn't without entertainment. and most of the characters were great!

it just that this whole thing causes me enough mental anguish to think about day in and day out to the point of writing what will turn out to be an embarrassing amount of words about my objectively least favorite part of a body of work i've come to adore. its fine. whatever.

come with me...join me whether you know jojo or not, as i try to stay sane tonight and many other nights. watch with concern and glee i rant incoherently about things that will make me seem like an absolute raving lunatic to anyone who is only barely familiar with the franchise and loosely understands it, as i only did, as a series about people who do pokemon but with ghosts who punch people.

first up, i need to do some comic work, and then we can talk about AHHH

OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF HERE! GET THAT BEAST AWAY

AHHH

#jjba #vento aureo #part 5 #essay

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mslanna · 1 year ago

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PLEASE, PLEASE WRITE IT! 😤 (what i assume is a weird mixture between a mating dance and asserting dominance on a very confused Raphael🤣)

well, not-quite-so-anon anymore @fiendish-appreciation. it is done. here is the last part of the story

unless I maybe do a soft epilogue, which I am not sure I can.

Outfox the Cat Part 3: The Devil Does You on AO3

It feels as if the world rests on Tav's shoulders alone and the slaying of the Elder Brain only increased the weight. They blink in exhaustion, slumping over their war hammer for stability. The Crown of Karsus drags them down merciless, like a black hole attached to their hand.

Should have left it in the river, they think. Should have made the bloody devil go look for it himself. But they made a promise. And that, for them, was as binding as any contract.

Tav wonders why that did it. Pity? Power? It felt good to outsmart a devil in his own home. The power ran through their veins golden and intoxicating. It may have carried them away a little and the victory was sweet. Even when ghost caresses started to crowd their days when shivers of phantom pleasure woke them up squirming at night.

Haarlep was making good use of their body. He must wear it a lot and sometimes Tav wonders who is on the other side of the equation. They hold on to the confession that Raphael only ever wants to sleep with himself. But the alternative is slightly disgusting. How many people does Haarlep sleep with during a day, during a night? Twenty-four hours filled with more sex than Tav thought possible.

And if it is Raphael taking advantage of the incubus' new form, Tav sighs. The cunt would surely have had an easier time fishing the Crown of Karsus from the Chionthar. If only the water had washed away more of the blood. Caked in gore Tav stumbles on.

Astarion already fled the sunlight. Lae'zel rode off on a dragon to be a figurehead for her people. Wyll followed Karlach into the hells. Time to follow. Tav sighs and looks at the broken city. Their home, once upon a time. It feels forever away. But right now, Baldur's Gate looks as broken as they feel.

Just a little further, Tav urges themself. Up the city to the Devil's Fee. They take a deep breath and close their eyes for a moment. This, too, will pass.

When Tav opened their eyes, the city vanished. The stink of blood and steel exchanged for the smell of hearty food, sweet wine and hot baths. They stand in the House of Hope, close enough to collapse onto one of the many chairs in the feast hall. The table is loaded, brimming with treats of all kinds. The smell makes their stomach clench.

"A little eager, are we?" Tav sits down heavily, resting their eyes on the devil who watches them from the end of the room with triumph in his eyes. "I would have preferred to do this with a little decorum, but hey."

Tav's attempt to throw Raphael the Crown of Karsus falls short, as does the crown. It clatters on the tiles, rolling in wobbly circles until the devil picks it up.

"And let you hold all the trump cards again? I think not, my dear." Raphael devours the crown with eager eyes. The goal of his efforts in this plane of existence finally in his grasp. But he doesn't put it to immediate use. Instead he turns it over in his fingers slowly, keeping them safely busy as he approaches the weary paladin.

"After this ordeal you went though, it is only proper to grant you the hospitality and – recreation my House of Hope has to offer." His words a smooth and roll from his tongue with practised easy. Only a hint of hunger hides under the rough edges of the vowels.

"I-" Tav breaks off. They are sitting comfortably. The idea to get up doesn't appeal, not to mention they are unsure their legs will take it.

"I have you covered," Haarlep's voice comes from behind. They reach their arms around Tav and lift them easily. The war hammer clatters to the ground unheeded.

"Haarlep! In your regular form?" Tav forces a chuckle. "Didn't get to use it much lately, did you?"

The incubus answers with a peal of laughter as they carry their prey into the boudoir.

Tav leans their face against the red shoulder. The motion from walking is calming and they drowsily close their eyes. Sleep beckons but is chased away too soon when Haarlep puts them down near the restoration fountain.

There they undress the weary paladin and clean the blood from skin and hair. Tav remembers the restoring power of the fountains, but Haarlep uses the water sparingly. Enough to refresh, not enough to strengthen.

"Don't want to make it more difficult on me than I have to," they confide, rubbing blood from Tav's hair and between their toes.

It's a cryptic statement. What was Raphael to do? Make his incubus lick them clean? The devil watches, waiting at the edge of the pool and his hooded eyes still glint more than the light refracting from the crown in his hands.

Tav wants to make a quip, tease him for letting Haarlep do all the hard work as per usual. But they are tired. The water cleans away blood and bruises; to wake them up, Tav seems to have to drink it. But Haarlep gathers them up again already, slipping nothing but a small sip of the healing waters down their throat.

"You will need it," the incubus murmurs as he carried Tav away.

Raphael follows, making a detour only to vanish the Crown of Karsus to a safe place. The silk sheets rise cool against Tav's skin as Haarlep gently lowers them onto the large bed. The incubus follows, taking up a seat at Tav's head. They take the paladin's wrists and slowly stretch their arms out over their head.

"Not so plucky now, are we?" Raphael gloats. He pulls off his boots never releasing Tav from his proprietorial gaze. When Tav tries to sit up, Haarlep tightens the grip around their wrists, pushing the backs of their hands deep into the mattress.

Raphael kneels between Tav's legs, the final prize spread before him. The smug smile turns hungry. For now, Raphael lets his eyes betray exactly what is about happen. His lips pull back to reveal the anticipation of a victor.

"Mock all you want about the number of times you felt Haarlep's ecstasy in your body," his words drip to Tav's skin like lances. "The victory is mine."

"The devil you know, eh?" Tav replies and glances at Haarlep. "Still needs help, though."

"Oh, my loyal incubus is only here to guarantee a certain – restraint." Raphael leans forwards. He catches Tav's chin with one hand, tilting it into a perfect angle to lay a first kiss on them.

It is heavy and sweet, Tav drops back in surprise by the sheer intensity of it. Heat seeps from the devil’s lips into their mouth, filling the kiss with smouldering desire. When he raises his right thigh, pushing Tav's up with it, the paladin spreads open with a soft moan.

Raphael breaks the sound up between his teeth and deepens the kiss. His mouth controls Tav's breath until comes in short gasps. They tug at Haarlep's grip, craving to put their hands onto the devil smothering them. Tav rears up as best as they can, taking in tongue and teeth as they move.

"Oh, I know you want to take back control of this whole situation." Raphael sits back with a smirk as Haarlep forces Tav's head back onto the mattress securing their hands under his knees. "But there is only one way you may get on top and it is I who decides if and when that happens."

His lips touch down along the side of Tav's jaw, nip their lobe and travel down their throat. Each placement is perfect, the pressure just right, the length almost enough. "You can resist or yield," the devil murmurs into their ear. "But you cannot control."

Another row of kisses along the throat and towards the back elicit a strangled and angry little moan. Tav struggles once more against Haarlep's hold and earns nothing in return but a mocking chuckle from the devil laying lines of arousal over their skin.

"You may have been too busy to notice," Raphael leers taking a break to surveying his effect so far, "but I already had my first courses. I can wait now. This is all about you." He returns to teasing Tav and the precision with which each touch hits home, caressing the most sensitive areas is uncanny, revolting, and irresistible.

"Welcome to eternity." Hot words scorch Tav's ear, but go barely noticed. They rally against Haarlep's hold in vain, roiling in unwanted desire and with their mouth once again closed by Raphael's demanding kiss, they cannot talk their way out of this one. When the devil levels his weight onto their body, Tav stops wanting to.

Raphael works his way downwards, punctuated by frustrated moans. Each nip is paced and placed to drive Tav crazy with lust. And after repeated practice sessions, they land perfectly. Tav feels the smile on the fiend's lips as he works them, plays their body like a fiddle.

His hands spread their knees and hold them wide. For a moment cool air brushes over Tav's damp sex. Raphael rises to look down at his prey with cruel gratification and for a moment he relishes in the sheer power over Tav. Then he leans down, breath hovering for unreasonably long between their legs before his to tongue ventures in. Tav bucks, when the tip settles easily over their clit, caressing it with maddening familiarity.

Each gasp and groan his tongue elicits spurs him on. His fingers dig into Tav's thighs and keep them wide with an iron grip. When Tav crests towards release, Raphael sits up, smug and self-satisfied. Cold air leaves an empty caress on Tav's swollen clit.

The devil's head rises for a final threat, brown eyes blazing fire and steel. This power arouses him more than any touch.

"You will know me." Raphael growls triumphant. "In ways you cannot imagine yet and in all of my forms." The air sings and suddenly a fiend looms over Tav. His skin sears against theirs, black bones digging into their flesh along strange angles.

"I will have you begging on your knees." The words burn and roll over Tav like a hot gravel. "I will have you wail my name in supplication. Every sensation of your body will be mine, your lust, your pleasure, your pain. For I am the Master in this House."

Back in his human form, the devil leans in to resume the work on his latest toy. "As you have admitted when last we met: you had your fun. Now I will have mine."

#bg3 #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #bg3 fanfiction #mel writes fanfic #sleazy second-hand car dealer

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merryfortune · 6 months ago

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if our love is insanity then why aren't you my clarity

Written for AiYusa Month 2024 | May 12th-May 18th | Week One

Prompts: Madness | “There isn’t anything that I wouldn't do for you.”

Title: if our love is insanity then why aren’t you my clarity

Ship: Aiballshipping | Ai/Yusaku

Fandom: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,586

Warnings: Choose not to warn

Tags: Alternate Universe - Alice in Wonderland, Crack Treated Seriously, Humour, Parody, Character Death, Ambiguous Ending, Time Loops

“What does a raven have in common with a writing desk?” Ai asked, smarmy, batting his eyelashes.

“Edgar Allan Poe wrote on both.” Yusaku replied.

Ai's expression changed, he pouted, “Pfft, you're no fun. Knowing the answers to all my riddles,” Ai's mood changed again then added, “but! That's why I love you.”

“I'm glad.” Yusaku said as neutrally as possible. “Now, I have answered your riddles and you say you love me, now will you let me go?”

He struggled in the ropes that Ai had ambushed him with. They were an endless chain of colourful triangles of fabric, repeating the six colours of the rainbow, until they formed his bondage.

“No, no can do, Yusaku-chan.” Ai lamented playfully.

He got up from across the far end of the ballroom table they were seated at. Clashing and mismatched furniture bedecked either side, there was a feast for hundreds let alone two and it was all going cold, to waste, on them. Yusaku thought there was meant to be a White Rabbit, a March Hare and a Dormouse but no. It was just him and the Mad Hatter in this whimsical forest.

Ai, now having made the journey from one end of the table to the other, perched on the corner in front of Yusaku. He put one foot on Yusaku's chair, squeezing it under Yusaku's leg playfully.

“No.” Ai said again. “No can do, I'm afraid. It's my Unbirthday Party so I can do as I please. Besides, we haven't even finished this date of ours, Yusaku-chan.”

Yusaku rolled his eyes. Date, schmate. He had only met Ai today and yet, when Ai looked at him, yes, it was with a gaze full of love but something else too. Something miserable. It made Yusaku feel like he wasn't truly being looked at bit rather through, like he wasn't there despite having all of Ai's attention and adoration.

See? Even at his rudeness of rolling his eyes, Ai didn't admonish Yusaku. Instead, he continued to sit and stare and sigh, like a fool in love.

“Well?” Yusaku prompted Ai through his reverie. “How do we finish this date then?”

“Well, we need to talk some more.” Ai said.

“About what?” Yusaku asked.

“About whatever we like.” Ai trumpeted, getting loud all of a sudden and shaking Yusaku's nerves like a tree. “And we need to exchange gifts! Two each. Then,” Ai turned quiet again, fidgeting cutely, “we get to kiss.”

Yusaku sighed. Anything to get this over and done with. He had places to go and people to see. He wanted to go home. He needed to clear his name to Queen and slay the Jabberwock and none of those things were going to happen if he was tied to a chair by a madman.

“Okay, what do you want to give me?” Yusaku asked. “If we are on a date, then I want my presents now.”

“Oh my, so bold, but of course I would pamper my lover. I have just what you need: some freshly brewed tea.” Ai said.

He produced a pot of tea, seemingly from thin air, and theatrically poured it. Steam wafted off the rivers and into a chipped, ceramic tea cup with wisteria emblems printed on it. The tea smelt rancid, it wrinkled Yusaku's nose and his dissatisfaction with it only worsened when Ai scootched the cup closer to him.

He waited, sharp and expectant.

Yusaku pointedly didn't say anything.

Ai blinked, batted his lashes.

Yusaku didn't even move a muscle in reaction.

“Er, well, drink up, Yusaku-chan.” Ai attempted to encourage Yusaku.

“How?” Yusaku asked, snapping. “I can't reach it when I'm tied up.”

“Oops, silly me! Your second gift from moi.” Ai said.

He bonked his head apologetically with the palm of his hand, poking his tongue out, too. It was an utter farce of being genuine but maybe he was. Yusaku couldn't tell as Ai adjusted his hat, then his waistcoat, and then produced his next gift for Yusaku.

“Tada!” he announced ever so sing-song. “A silly straw. Although, since this is Wonderland, it is a normal straw to us silly geese, tee-hee.”

The silly straw in question was long and winding, a translucent purple with a Kink in about the middle of which was heart-shaped. Ai put the bottom of it in the tea cup and supported the other end of it so Yusaku could use it.

“Bottoms up, beloved.” Ai sing-songed.

Yusaku huffed but accepted. He latched on and sucked hard enough to-blegh! It didn't even taste like tea. It was more akin to boiled grape ramune despite the deceptively earl grey colour it had in the teacup.

“Ugh, yuck.” Yusaku complained.

Ai, unfazed, changed the topic of conversation immediately, “Now what about my gift?” he said. “What did you bring me, your lover boy?”

“I didn't bring you anything. I only met you today. You are not my lover boy.” Yusaku said and repeating Ai's self annoyed pet name for himself soured his mouth worse than the tea.

“Well,” Ai said, uppity, “guess that means you are here forever then! Oopsie-daisies.”

“What, no?!” Yusaku exclaimed, firing back. “I need to go, Ai, I need to go home!”

“I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Yusaku-chan.” Ai tutted, closing his eyes as he fidgeted with his fingers again.

“Why not? I need to go home, I need to slay the Jabberwock so Queen clears my name and then I can go home but I can't if I'm stuck here playing dolls with you.” Yusaku snarled.

“Too bad, rules are rules. You would know that better than anyone else, Mister I Barely Escaped with My Head.” Ai taunted him.

Yusaku huffed.

Ai cautiously opened one eye, “I told you already. We are on a date. To have a successful date and leave, we need to talk twice. Check, check. I need to give you two gifts. Check and check. But you also need to give me two gifts so we can then kiss afterwards and leave our date. But if you can't, well, you. Are. Stuck.”

“Says who?” Yusaku snapped, incredulous.

“The game designer, that's who.” Ai said.

“Wait, what? Pause.” Yusaku, in disbelief, scrunched up his face then turned to the camera, “Can you believe this?”

Ai blinked, “Who are you talking to? This is a written text, there can't be any cameras.”

Yusaku looked again and Ai was right. There were no cameras. Just the droning of a keyboard as the next word was written after the other, a narration added one by one until it became a third person omniscient perspective intrinsic to the diegetic noises of the scene. The birds singing, the foliage swaying, etcetera.

But that couldn’t be right either, Yusaku realised.

His skin began to crawl. The keys on the keyboard continued to clack as he put one and one together.

“We’re not speaking like it's 1856.” Yusaku said.

“Well, yeah, ‘cause, like… You know, duh, because it’s… I’m crazy, I’m Looney Tunes, you know. We’re all mad here.” Ai rambled.

The anachronistic reference only further cemented in Yusaku’s mind that something was very wrong.

“We,” he said, “are in a fanfiction.”

“What, no…? That can’t be right.” Ai replied.

“By an author who hasn’t even read the original book she is creating this pastiche from. She’s barely seen the Disney version!”

AN: The Care Bears version was my jam as a kid tho.

If you haven’t seen that, get out of here! XD

“See?!” Yusaku exclaimed.

Ai groaned and thingz 0nly w3nt w0rz3 and d0wn h1ll fr0m d0wn th3r3.

Mostly because Yusaku died.

Oops.

Yusaku simply vanished from existence. Right in front of Ai’s eyes for the… fiftieth time by Ai’s count. There was just no escaping fate. Yusaku had to clear his name by slaying the Jabberwocky. Except, it was usually the Jabberwocky who killed him. Or Queen. And there was one incident with the Walrus. And another with the Caterpillar and his hookah machine.

For Yusaku, dying was as easy as breathing. He didn’t have a chance to process. He just disappeared as the world around him folded like a castle of playing cards. He was just returned to the beginning of the book, the beginning of the level, back to when he was falling down the rabbit hole that he could never escape from because darling dearest Wonderland wanted to keep him so bad and the only way he could stay was if he died.

Its a shame he never remembered.

But Ai did.

Their first meeting, the first time they shared in laughter and jokes, crying as Yusaku seemingly got so close to the finishing line before… chomp. He was gone. Decapitated.

This wasn’t one of this gorier deaths, Ai had to admit but that was hardly a balm for his soul. Not when he wanted to keep Yusaku, all to himself, it's a shame he had to share him with a larger than life story but hey. Just because ropes didn’t work this time, didn’t mean they woulodn’t work next time or he could try something else, like a glue trap or a reverse bear trap or something but at the end of the purple prose run on sentence, deep down, he knew.

There was nothing Ai could do to keep his beloved protagonist safe from the ending of the… the whatever it was and look? Not much space between here and the last words of the text. Just three… two… one…

Fin.

#aiyusamonth #aiyusamonth2024 #yugioh vrains #vrains #aiballshipping #yusaku fujiki #fujiki yusaku #ai (vrains)#writing tag #if or love is insanitythen why aren't you my clarity

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certifiablyinsanez · 1 year ago

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I don’t think people realize what amazing representation Good Omens is for queer platonic relationships. Neil has gone on to say that fans were always too hung up on getting kiss scenes (I don’t have the exact quotes), and that kissing didn’t mean much in the grand scheme of things. After all, Anathema and Newt had known each other for like, an hour before kissing and having sex. Shadwell and Tracey hadn’t done either (presumably) before taking off into a new life into the countryside together after knowing each other for years. We didn’t get an ineffable bureaucracy kiss because he felt that it was more powerful that they sing their song before going off. As someone in a queer platonic relationship, it’s the FEAST of representation I’ve been waiting my whole life for. We’ve been taught that a kiss is the epitome of a physical action of love (second to sex perhaps). Not hugging or holding hands; those are things that you can do with your friends after all. No, a kiss is what marks a special bond. As someone not comfortable with kissing, this has always left a hole in my heart, knowing I couldn’t give someone sex or kisses or even lots of physical affection as a neurodivergent touch avoidant person. As a queer person, getting that confirmation of a kiss gives us the ability to say beyond a shadow of a doubt that they are in fact lovers. Because we all know those people that would deny queerness at any turn. Hell, I’ve seen loads of fans watch the show with their parents who thought Crowley and Aziraphale were just best friends until the kiss (way to not read the room folks). I won’t deny the importance of the kiss, but it’s even more delicious that the kiss wasn’t the show of love that kisses are made out to be. That it was bad, it was aggressive, sad, desperate and it failed. The kiss isn’t a happy ending this time. It adds a whole new range of emotion to that action for me and the fact that I truly believe that Aziracrow is the best love story of all time while also not playing out like every other one is just remarkable.

#aziracrow #aziraphale #crowley #good omens #neil gaiman #i would die for all of them #true love #queerplatonic #ineffable partners

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dailyunstableeve · 8 months ago

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Everyone's Tav has a back story, and I would like to introduce mine!

Well, I just use one of my old oc for this and I think she has a great fit for this (maybe) and it's for fun and get rid of my write blocks, don't attack me please

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Her name is Ade.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

I looked at the camp, with all the people around, Astarion, Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Gale, Wyll, Karlach and Scratch. We’re all here just because of the Tadpole, strangers but needed to survive so we stick together.

As Gale is preparing the dinner, I isolated myself in my own tent, having my eyes closed, letting the noises in. Thousands of cries and words flooded my mind immediately, only saying the same thing, “betrayal.”

A story that has never been told to anyone, about how one village just disappeared from the map, bloodless bodies only to be found.

The village of Vam, simple as it is. Every house is a small family of Vampires, natural born, some are turned. We had the power to turn anything to a vampire without needing an ascension ritual, to be able to create more. We made children by using half of our blood mixed in a bowl, using the bones of our ancestors and creating a new born child, the natural born Vampire ritual, with that it also granted us the permission to walk under the sun with no problem. It's a nasty ritual but I've seen it once when my sister, Jezebeth, was born.

I was the chief’s daughter, along with two brothers and a sister. Our talent was only good at hunting preys so we could feast on the blood, and protect the whole village.

Everything changed the moment I harvested my second power, the power to be able to twist one’s blood. I could use their blood as strings to puppet, and I can use mine to grow veins to tangle my enemies.

I loved my family so I told them about my power, hoping they will be proud of me but they never did, because my power can be the end of the family. I never understood why when I was a child, that my family would ask me for favors so that they could do it themselves. It went on for 10 years until I met a girl from the outskirts of town, V.

Hanging out with her made me realize a lot of stuff, mainly learning from how she interacted with her family. V’s family are lovely. I would run to their house every once or twice a week, at first I interacted with them with the manners my mother had taught me, well, taught me to treat her, do the house chores, serve the food, and only eat when everyone is done.

Through V’s family, I learn that the way my family treats me is wrong, so I tried to fight back, hoping I could have some ground to stand on but I'm always pushed away. Slowly, the idea of killing my family appeared in my mind, I tried to seek for V’s help but I was too late.

I saw Aqius standing in front of V’s house, as the house burned to the ground.

“What have you done?” Anxiety and anger rising inside of me, if anything happened to V and the family, I would do anything for them.

“Sister, mother isn't happy about how you always sneak out of the house, she has sent me here to teach you a lesson,” that hideous smirk appeared on Aquis’ face.

He killed V.

There's only one thing on my mind.

I will kill this bastard.

I never used my power on my family at all, because I believe they are my family, and I'm their daughter and sister, and family are meant to be together, forever and always.

Forever and always, foolish of me to think that.

I enjoyed the screams from Aquis as I slowly boiled his blood, turning it into tiny little sharp blades, cutting up his inside bit by bit. It didn't take him long enough to figure out I'm the reason he started to feel the ache, that his body would explode anytime, he started to beg, beg me to spare his life, trying to reason with me with all the good time we had together but all those good times were before I harvested my power.

“I will make you beg like how V begged for you to spare her,” I stared at Aquis with cold eyes, there was no sympathy at all, just anger, “you didn't spare her, so I should not spare you too.”

A snap on the head and it pops off from the body, blood spilling out like a fountain, beautiful. I held up Aquis' head, adjusting its view towards his body and I smiled.

Just like the fountain in the grand palace, elegant.

I turn my sight back to the burning house, telling myself that I'm going to avenge V, I'm going to kill everyone that stops me for killing my whole family.

Everything was a blur, really. It's nothing but me going on a killing spree, slaughtering everything that's blocking my way and how I enjoyed the moment. I never liked screams before but that day, it sounded like music that only I can create and it's a masterpiece.

I remember dropping Aquis' head in front of my family, mother were crying loud, father was furious, he even tried to drive a stake in my heart but he couldn't succeed with me controlling his blood, I turned to my second brother, Josh as I watch father fighting over my power but all he can do was just driving that stake in Josh’s heart.

Jezebeth tried to stop me with her knowledge with herbs, throwing poison at me causing me to fall back a little. Mother tried to take the opportunity to take me down but I had my father pinning my mother down.

I let my family die in their own talent, Jezebeth chugging down all the potions she made, 9 out of 10 are just purely poison. Father will hunt mother down as mother will try to hide, the hunting went quite long enough for me to drain all the blood from the whole village, stored in barrels, because my tiny sanity is telling me to change my blood intake to Vampires instead of Human. It's also the last promise I made with V that I would never take any human’s blood.

I watched mother dragging father's body back to the village which surprised me. I was hoping that father is the one who's dragging mother's body.

Mother looked at me with anger, saying that she will do anything to kill me right now but she knows she won't be able to reach me.

“I should've done this sooner, so V and her family doesn't have to suffer,” I said under my breath, taking control of my mother's blood, “you have taken away everything ever since I got this power, the love of the family. When I thought I would live in this darkness forever, V showed up in my life and showed me light again, I managed to find a family that is my own and wasn't like you all, only know HOW TO USE ME!” I bent mother's leg, having her kneeling in front of me, “you took everything from me, so today, everyone that died here, will be the price you paid for.”

While I left my mother sobbing on the redden ground, I left the village with the barrels of blood I got. Have them hidden away, only to be open if I couldn't fight off the hunger.

“Dinner's ready,” Shadowheart’s stood outside of my tent, letting out some short cough, “everyone are waiting for you.”

“I'll be there,” I took out my hidden stash of blood and had a few sips before I joined the party for dinner.

After I left the village, I had at least five years of freedom until I was captured by the mind flayers. Now I'm on a journey with the others, hoping to find a way to get rid of the tadpoles that are in our brain.

Little do I know, one day my mother will show up again, and my past will be told to the party. I guess I'll start worrying when my mother finally appears.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

#oc fic #oc #oc at Baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 fic #fanfic #astarion #shadowheart #minthara #lae'zel #gale of waterdeep #wyll #halsin #scratch #karlach

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