#all this after henry dies mind you

[humbugify]

hawkeye is so much better than me because if i missed my bestfriend at the airport by ten minutes after finding out he left without saying goodbye i would have actually killed somebody

[wonder-worker]

"Because Richard (III) usurped the throne, his retinue is inevitably seen as inimical to the crown and therefore in an important sense independent of royal authority. In the context of Edward IV's reign, in which the retinue was created, neither assumption is true. The development of the retinue would have been impossible without royal backing and reflected, rather than negated, the king's authority. Within the north itself, Gloucester's connection subsumed that of the crown. Elsewhere, in East Anglia and in Wales, that focus for royal servants was provided by others, but Gloucester was still part of that royal connection, not remote from it. In the rest of England, as constable and admiral, he had contributed to the enforcement of royal authority. When he seized power in 1483 he did not do it from outside the prevailing political structure but from its heart."

-Rosemary Horrox, "Richard III: A Study of Service"

[tryingonametaphor]

Why Will Byers?

An analysis and theory on why Henry/Vecna targeted Will first in season 1 and his plans for Will in season 5

‼️Contains The First Shadow (TFS) spoilers so please proceed with caution.‼️

This is going to be a little long but I’ve tried to give as much context as I can without actually being able to show snippets from the stage play. This is my interpretation of everything that went down as a member of the audience and not as someone who has read up any theories about TFS before. To understand why Henry took Will first in 1983, we have to start with -

Henry and Joyce

From all the times I’ve watched TFS, the one thing that has stuck with me is the final conversation Henry has with Joyce. It’s just before his last confrontation with Patty Newby and before he joins Brenner for good. Joyce is the last person (who doesn’t know about Henry’s powers) that he canonically talks to.

Throughout the entire play Joyce, Hopper, and Bob are investigating the animals dying at the hands of Henry and come to the conclusion that Victor Creel has been the one doing the killing. They get so close to solving the case. In her last conversation with Henry, Joyce tries to comfort him by saying that Victor will pay for his crimes - which makes Henry laugh because she’s so close yet so far from the truth. He gets a little frustrated and says something along the lines of “You don’t get it. But someday you will.” (edit 28/9: the exact dialogue is [Henry: you’re too nice. that is how they’ll get you. you have to learn to do anything you can to protect the ones you love] [Joyce: I don’t understand.] [Henry: You will.]) The next time we see Henry make a reappearance in Joyce’s life is during -

The Vanishing of Will Byers

Will is taken into the Upside Down (UD) by Henry. It’s not even a question anymore. All of the context clues from 1x1 lead us to believe that Will’s kidnapping was not by a demogorgon. Will - a 12 year old - miraculously survives a week in the upside down with no food or water. Will is even around the demogorgon a few times in the Upside Down. (Joyce communicating with Will through the lights and then the demogorgon coming after her immediately).

Barb dies the night she is taken but Will stays alive and also somehow manages to talk to Joyce through the wall. Joyce is led exactly to where Will was held at the end of s1 and he makes it out alive. It’s almost as if Henry knew all along that Joyce was the most capable of never giving up on finding her son. Like Henry took Will Byers because he was Joyce’s son. And like he was giving her just enough to know that Will was alive. Even when Joyce and Hopper find him at the end in a state of near death, he’s not injured by a creature. He was being prepared for the next stage of Vecna’s plan -

The Possession of Will Byers

The origins of Henry’s powers happen as such - As a kid, he is transported into the UD (originally coined Dimension X by the government) for a few hours because he touched something he wasn’t meant to touch. During his time in there, he came in contact with the Mind Flayer (MF). According to TFS this is the point in his life when he started getting “corrupted”. Brenner’s dad - who was one of the first people to enter dimension X - had mutated blood after but no powers. Henry was the first person to come in contact with the MF and it’s highly likely he got his powers because of this (This would also track considering how most of the party has been in the UD now but show no signs of having powers). The MF controls Henry for the rest of TFS and Henry grows more power hungry the more he kills.

In S2, Henry presumably sends the MF after Will - who has now had a year to heal from the events of 1983. Will is the only other person in all of ST to have had direct contact with the MF and survived it. Henry didn’t hesitate to kill Billy in S3, but he always gives everyone just enough to keep Will safe. Will himself tells Owens in S2 that the MF wants to kill everyone except him. Will once again survives the entire ordeal and is given a “break” for the next 2 seasons. Except I don’t believe he’s been just given a break. I think Will is -

Henry’s Sleeper Agent.

Ready to awaken in s5. I undoubtedly think that Will is going to have powers. And I don’t think they’re going to be the same as Henry and El. El and the other lab kids get their powers directly from Henry. Will’s powers will be directly from the MF like Henry. I believe this has been Henry’s plan all along and it’s further affirmed by what he tells Will in the recent VR game. That Will will be the key to Henry being able to infiltrate his friends’ minds. Jamie Campbell-Bower also mentioned during the S4 press that to get in character, he set up a display with all of Henry’s victims and targets’ faces on his wall(?), and Will was in the center.

Henry is going to use his connection with Will sneakily and midway through S5 he’s going to awaken Will’s powers (maybe in ep4 - which is said to be titled ‘Sorcerer’ and has young Will in it). Henry is going to try and manipulate his way into making an ally out of Will, and it’s not going to work because -

Will is the Perfect Character Foil.

Will is everything Henry could have been if he had a better support system. He is the perfect character foil. Unlike Henry, Will has a mother who loves him unconditionally and more importantly, believes him. Unlike Henry, the person who Will loves the most (the Patty to Will’s Henry: Mike) is going to love him back and stay by his side all season. No one is going to force them to be apart the way Henry was told to stay away from Patty. Will is not going to be easily swayed even though Henry has spent years crafting him into the perfect soldier. Sure, Henry has seen him heartbroken and sad, but that comes nowhere near to the amount of love and support Will is going to get from his people next season. And they’re going to quite literally defeat Vecna with the power of love and friendship. After that, Will Byers is getting the happy ending that Henry could have gotten.

[bethanydelleman]

One criticism of Jane Austen is that she ignored the lower classes. I find this kind of dumb on multiple levels, primarily because not every work of fiction or social criticism needs to include every single social ill, but also because she does talk about servants/the lower classes quite a bit more than people realize and what she says is important.

The overall theme: kindness to servants/the lower classes/the poor is a very important mark of character.

We all know that Elizabeth Bennet changed her mind about Mr. Darcy after hearing a positive character reference from his housekeeper, but that is just one example of many. The Dashwood girls are better employers than John & Fanny since they easily find servants to move across the country with them: Her wisdom too limited the number of their servants to three; two maids and a man, with whom they were speedily provided from amongst those who had formed their establishment at Norland. Also, servants tended to brag about having wealthy employers, these three servants wanted both a far away and a less prestigious job. John & Fanny were really that bad!

Another mark against General Tilney's character is that he gets irrationally angry at/scares servants:

To such anxious attention was the General’s civility carried, that not aware of her extraordinary swiftness in entering the house, he was quite angry with the servant whose neglect had reduced her to open the door of the apartment herself. “What did William mean by it? He should make a point of inquiring into the matter.” And if Catherine had not most warmly asserted his innocence, it seemed likely that William would lose the favour of his master forever, if not his place, by her rapidity.

“Why! How can you ask the question? Because no time is to be lost in frightening my old housekeeper out of her wits, because I must go and prepare a dinner for you, to be sure.” (Henry, on his father coming to his house for a visit. This may be half a joke, but General Tilney is very critical of the meal)

Mrs. Ferrars's character is made quite plain in this complaint about paying annuities (basically a pension here) to some of her husband's old servants:

I have known a great deal of the trouble of annuities; for my mother was clogged with the payment of three to old superannuated servants by my father’s will, and it is amazing how disagreeable she found it. Twice every year these annuities were to be paid; and then there was the trouble of getting it to them; and then one of them was said to have died, and afterwards it turned out to be no such thing. My mother was quite sick of it. Her income was not her own, she said, with such perpetual claims on it; and it was the more unkind in my father, because, otherwise, the money would have been entirely at my mother’s disposal, without any restriction whatever.

Mrs. Ferrars is loaded, and she begrudges paying a few pounds to 3 servants. She is greedy and ungrateful.

Mrs. Norris's treatment of the servants is similar to her treatment of Fanny. It shows the depth of her miserliness (how much could one boy really eat?) and also cruelty:

"I had been looking about me in the poultry-yard, and was just coming out, when who should I see but Dick Jackson making up to the servants’ hall-door with two bits of deal board in his hand, bringing them to father, you may be sure; mother had chanced to send him of a message to father, and then father had bid him bring up them two bits of board, for he could not no how do without them. I knew what all this meant, for the servants’ dinner-bell was ringing at the very moment over our heads; and as I hate such encroaching people (the Jacksons are very encroaching, I have always said so: just the sort of people to get all they can), I said to the boy directly (a great lubberly fellow of ten years old, you know, who ought to be ashamed of himself), ‘I’ll take the boards to your father, Dick, so get you home again as fast as you can.’ The boy looked very silly, and turned away without offering a word, for I believe I might speak pretty sharp; and I dare say it will cure him of coming marauding about the house for one while. I hate such greediness—so good as your father is to the family, employing the man all the year round!”

It also highlights her hypocrisy, as Mrs. Norris has moved in during the play to help with the preparations, so she is getting free meals all week but she won't let this kid eat when he's helping his father (who is building the stage for the play)

Mr. Knightley considers the common people of Highbury before moving a path, even though he likely owns all of the land and can do whatever he wants:

"But John, as to what I was telling you of my idea of moving the path to Langham, of turning it more to the right that it may not cut through the home meadows, I cannot conceive any difficulty. I should not attempt it, if it were to be the means of inconvenience to the Highbury people, but if you call to mind exactly the present line of the path"

The kind Musgroves, who have given their nursemaid a retirement plan instead of turning her out:

A chaise was sent for from Crewkherne, and Charles conveyed back a far more useful person in the old nursery-maid of the family, one who having brought up all the children, and seen the very last, the lingering and long-petted Master Harry, sent to school after his brothers, was now living in her deserted nursery to mend stockings and dress all the blains and bruises she could get near her, and who, consequently, was only too happy in being allowed to go and help nurse dear Miss Louisa.

And who clearly are rewarded for this kindness.

Anne Elliot showing kindness to Mrs. Smith, who has nearly fallen right out of the gentry, vs. her fathers disdain for charity:

“Westgate Buildings!” said he, “and who is Miss Anne Elliot to be visiting in Westgate Buildings? A Mrs Smith. A widow Mrs Smith; and who was her husband? One of five thousand Mr Smiths whose names are to be met with everywhere. And what is her attraction? That she is old and sickly. Upon my word, Miss Anne Elliot, you have the most extraordinary taste! Everything that revolts other people, low company, paltry rooms, foul air, disgusting associations are inviting to you. But surely you may put off this old lady till to-morrow: she is not so near her end, I presume, but that she may hope to see another day. What is her age? Forty?”

Added to Sir Walter and Elizabeth's idea to cut expenses:

“Can we retrench? Does it occur to you that there is any one article in which we can retrench?” and Elizabeth, to do her justice, had, in the first ardour of female alarm, set seriously to think what could be done, and had finally proposed these two branches of economy, to cut off some unnecessary charities, and to refrain from new furnishing the drawing-room; to which expedients she afterwards added the happy thought of their taking no present down to Anne, as had been the usual yearly custom."

Vs. how the Crofts treat the poor:

She could have said more on the subject; for she had in fact so high an opinion of the Crofts, and considered her father so very fortunate in his tenants, felt the parish to be so sure of a good example, and the poor of the best attention and relief, that however sorry and ashamed for the necessity of the removal, she could not but in conscience feel that they were gone who deserved not to stay, and that Kellynch Hall had passed into better hands than its owners’.

Henry Crawford's moral fall begins with ignoring the needs of his tenants:

"I have half an idea of going into Norfolk again soon. I am not satisfied about Maddison. I am sure he still means to impose on me if possible, and get a cousin of his own into a certain mill, which I design for somebody else. I must come to an understanding with him. I must make him know that I will not be tricked on the south side of Everingham, any more than on the north: that I will be master of my own property... I have a great mind to go back into Norfolk directly, and put everything at once on such a footing as cannot be afterwards swerved from. Maddison is a clever fellow; I do not wish to displace him, provided he does not try to displace me; but it would be simple to be duped by a man who has no right of creditor to dupe me, and worse than simple to let him give me a hard-hearted, griping fellow for a tenant, instead of an honest man, to whom I have given half a promise already. Would it not be worse than simple? Shall I go? Do you advise it?”

Of course, Henry does not go to Everginham, as he knows is right, but instead goes to the party in London, where he again runs into Maria...

Yes, Austen didn't write servants/the lower classes as full characters in general, they are in the background and around the edges of the scenes, but over and over, we can sort characters into moral and immoral by their treatment of those less fortunate around them.

[latenightdaydreams]

Cowboy!König x Farmer (fem pov)

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, mention of death (widow), p in v, spanking, oral

2.3k word count

Set in 1890's America

🤠

.

.

It has been exactly four months and seventeen days since your husband, Henry, passed away. The two of you decided to leave your dull city life for the excitement of the untouched wilderness. Everything had been going perfectly. In only five years the both of you were able to build a beautiful home, a big barn with animals to fill it, and enough crops to feed yourselves and sell. Success to the point of needing to hire extra hands. It was the American dream.

It’s just you and a failing farm. The work just continues to pile up and you never seem to be able to catch a break. With no other options, you set off into town looking for help. You hang fliers in the local stores and on street posts, hoping someone reliable will respond. All you can do is wait.

Only just two days later while you’re outside feeding your chickens, you see a black draft horse approaching. You place the bucket of feed on the floor, wipe your hands off on your blue jeans, and adjust your cream-colored button-down shirt before walking towards him. As you approach you notice that underneath the cowboy hat is an odd t-shirt like mask covering his face.

“I hope you’re not here to cause trouble.” You rest your hand on the pistol resting on your hip as you continue to approach him.

“Nein, no trouble, Fräulein."

His thick Austrian accent takes you by surprise. Your eyes look over his body as he gets off of his horse, taking note of how massive this man is. He looks down at you with his pale blue eyes squinting from a smile.

“I’m König,” he holds his hand out to you, “I saw your fliers in town.”

“I’m, y/n. Have you worked on a farm before?” You weakly shake his hand, your body so exhausted from hours of work and no rest.

“I grew up on one in Austria.”

You cross your arms keeping your defenses up as you two speak. There are so many questions running through your mind about his mask, but you decide to not ask. Never in your life did you think a 6’10 giant would be the one to show up.

“Well, as the post states; I can’t pay much but I can offer food and a room to compensate.”

The fact that you can’t afford to pay the standard rate to a farm hand makes you feel ashamed. There used to be three workers and now it’s only you. You can feel the heat in your face begin to build as you wait for him to reject your offer. Without him, you might not be able to keep the farm past this coming harvesting season.

“That sounds like a good deal to me, Fräulein.”

A small smile cracks at the corner of your lips as he agrees. There is a wave of relief that washes over your body. The possibility of getting the farm back to its glory days lingers in the back of your mind.

“Come with me, I’ll give you a tour.”

You turn and start with showing him the farm land before walking inside the home. It’s a two-story farmhouse, well taken care of by your husband. On the walls there are two photos; one of you and your late husband and the other of your parents. You notice König eyeing them, but he doesn’t ask about it.

Up the stairs and around to the left is the spare room. It was supposed to be a nursery, but those hopes of a family died with your husband. In the corner is a single bed and a wardrobe on the wall. It’s not a must, but it’s all you could afford.

“Here is where you’ll be sleeping.” Your eyes follow König as he walks past. His muscles are so big the ripple though the tight blue shirt he’s wearing. His thighs would be so nice to sit on. Henry was a skinny little man. You didn’t know men could be this big. “There are some house rules. No parties, no drinking yourself dumb, and please clean up after yourself.”

König places his small bag on the bed; clearly, he travels light. He nods as he looks around and then his eyes land back on you. The beautiful shade of light blue is only accentuated by the black mask covering his face.

“Ja, I promise to follow the rules. When do I start?”

“You can help me now. All of the animals are fed, but the stalls need to be cleaned out.”

“I’m on it.” König says as he walks past you. You get a whiff of his musky smell from his travels. Deep inside you feel wrong but, on the surface, you can’t help but to be aroused by the man.

You wait a moment before going outside to tend to the crops. Right now, you just need to remain focused on the farm and Henry’s vision. There is no time for men in this life.

You march down the stairs and head to the barn to grab your tools. Once you enter the door you see König with the pitchfork shoveling the animal manure, just as you asked of him. Except his shirt is now off and resting over one of the hooks on the wall. His body is glistening with sweat as his muscles flex with each movement. Trying to not get caught staring, you turn and grab what you need quickly and leave. The sound of your heart beat echoes in your ears, what is wrong with you?

The day passes until the sun begins to set. You’ve noticed that König took the liberty to go around the barn and fix things that have been broken for a while. His work ethic only makes you feel even worse for not being able to pay him more.

A few days pass, the both of you have slowly begun to build a routine. It has been nice to have him around the house, the chores no longer seem unmanageable. There hasn’t been much conversation, but you steal glances of his body everyday when he’s outside.

Today as you’re bent over planting seeds, you feel a warm hand rest on your lower back. You can feel a tingle crash over your body as you stand and turn to him. Your bodies are so close that you can feel the heat radiating from him. All you want to do is rub your hand down his chest and feel his sweat on your body.

“I can finish up; you should go inside and rest.” His eyes flicker back and forth between yours causing your heart to flutter.

“No, it’s okay—”

“Bitte meine Liebe, let me finish.”

You nod slowly. His hand drifts from your back to the curve of your rear before dropping off. The look he gives you melts you completely. Thanking him once more, you walk forward and towards the house. You turn back to look at König and see his eyes following your hips before he continues working.

As you turn the corner, you realize that you forgot your jacket in the barn. You walk back and see it lying next to König’s shirt. With your jacket in hand, you look around before grabbing his shirt. Bringing it up to your face, you take a deep breath in, savoring his scent.

“Liebling, I thought I told you to get some rest.”

König’s voice causes you to jump, accidently dropping his shirt on the ground before turning around to face him. You can’t seem to find the right words to attempt to talk yourself out of this situation; it’s embarrassing.

“I’m so sorry, I know this must look—”

“Like you were smelling my shirt.” König says with a certain cheerful tone in his voice.

All you can do is nod, you’ve been caught; the thought of him quitting makes your heart drop. Words escape you; how does one apologize for this? You pick his shirt back up and hand it to him.

“I’m sorry.” You repeat in a meek tone.

König looks at you for a while before slowly approaching you. His massive hand ups the side of your face and tilts your head back for you to look directly into his eyes. A chill travels over your body.

“That’s…very naughty of you.” His voice is almost a whisper as his other arm wraps around the side of you, pressing you against his chest.

You look up with wide eyes at his response; it isn’t what you were expecting at all. Before you can say anything, his hand squeezes your soft plump ass through your jeans. He gently grinds his hips up against you, making sure you feel how aroused you make him.

“You are simply stunning, Liebling.” König growls in your ear, goosebumps travel all over.

Both of his hands move down to unbutton your shirt, every button felt like it was taking an eternity to undo. The way he looks at your bare breasts like a hungry beast causes your pussy to tingle, a rush of desire pulsing throughout your body. He gently pulls his cowboy hat off and places it on the wooden stable behind you, pulling off his mask as well.

You see a long and deep scar that travels down the right side of his face. It isn’t a turn off for you, he’s still a handsome man. With one hand you reach up and caress the right side of his face gently, König presses his face into your hand as he relishes your touch.

He leans down and wraps his lips around one of your nipples while he unbuttons your jeans. The feeling of his wet tongue swirling around your nipple causes you to let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb back his messy blonde hair as you watch him with closed eyes enjoy your body.

The fabric of your jeans brush along your legs as he pulls them down off of your body along with your underwear. His large hands caress your legs from your calves up to your thighs. He pulls away to look at your full body; your eyes drop to his hands to see his erection straining against his jeans. Your eyes follow as he stands up, towering over your much smaller frame as his hands undo his pants. In this moment you didn’t feel like a widower or even the stress of the farm. It’s just you and König.

A tiny yelp leaves you as he lifts you up and holds you in his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist while he walks with you to the barn wall. His lips crash into yours in a passionate kiss. You pull him to you, deepening the kiss. He tastes strongly of tobacco and smells like sweat from working in the hot sun all day.

König pulls away from the kiss, leaving your lips wet and craving more of him. His eyes look hazy, drunk at this moment. Then you see the head of his cock press against your sopping wet pussy. His once pale blue eyes are now blackened by his pupils.

With one harsh thrust, König shoves himself inside of you. A loud moan leaves your lips as your face scrunches with pleasure. König is such a strong man that he so effortlessly holds you and moves you down on to his cock to meet his thrust.

“Y/n.” He huffs your name.

No words can even be formed as your body experiences new heights of pleasure you’ve never felt before. His cock is monstrous, bullying itself inside of you. Your short finger nails dig into and drag across his pale skin, reddened from the blistering August sun.

Animalistic groans leave König as the most pathetic mewls leave yours. His body leans against yours as he presses you harder against the barn wall, his hips bucking up rapidly like a man in heat. You feel a way of electricity as his tongue licks across the side of your neck. He covers your pulse point with his lips and begins to lightly suck.

Beads of sweat begin to drip on your body, both of you growing increasingly slippery. He gently puts you down, but quickly grabs you by the back of your neck and walks you over to a stack of hay. Not being too rough, he bends you over the stack and presses your face into the hay.

You form goosebumps across your body as he gently caresses down to your hips, grasping them firmly. His pace continues, but you feel his heavy balls slapping against your swollen clit. Your eyes flutter back as one hand reaches behind you to push his chest.

“Too much.” You whimper.

König doesn’t listen, grabbing your arms and folding it behind your back instead. He reaches for your other arm to also hold it that way, one of his hands wrapping around both of your wrist to keep them together. Your ass ripples with every merciless thrust only bringing you closer to orgasm.

You can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, a low moan leaving him in response. This is just too much. The strong build up of ecstasy radiates from deep inside of your core throughout your whole body. In response to this sensation you tremble, König’s name being the only thing you can say as you cry for him over and over again.

“Can I—” König begins to ask, but before he finishes his sentence you can feel his cock begin to pulse deep inside. His heavy body leans forward and rest on you, pressing you more into the hay. He gives your marked neck soft kisses as your body takes every single drop of his cum.

[imagines4thefandoms]

In Love with the Tats

(This has been in my drafts for a long time)

Warning: Lots of smut

summary: Henry comes home still wearing fake tattoos from his latest movie.

Henry Cavill is a kind and loving man. He is the real-life Superman. And he’s British so he’s automatically very polite and nice to everyone. He looks like an actual bear with all those muscles but he’s really just a giant teddy bear who requires cuddles to function. He usually plays good guys in the movies cause it's who he is. 

Which is why the world lost its mind when Mission Impossible: Fallout came out. Henry “king of nerds” Cavill was a bad guy. Seeing him betray, hurt, and kill was out of pocket and extremely hot. And you were not expecting it. When you started dating you told him not to give you any spoilers from his movies. You wanted to get the whole experience when you saw it at the premiere. Sometimes it backfired like in Dawn of Justice when Superman died, and you were caught off guard but he brought you tissues cause he knew you needed them. And when you got married that promise was in your vows. Maybe cause you told him you would divorce him if he spoiled anything for you. 

So when you watched your husband who can’t hurt a fly try and destroy the world and kill millions, you got turned on. Seeing a darker side of him was very attractive. And every girl can tell you how villains are a lot more attractive than heroes. So when you got home from the premiere you jumped his bones. And for the next 24 hours, you two rarely left the bed for longer than 5 minutes. The phrase fucking like rabbits could have legally changed to fucking like Cavill’s. 

After that when he would look over scripts his agent sent him, you would help him and pick out the role you liked (spoiler if he played the bad guy you liked it). He auditioned for the roles you liked cause he could never say no to you and you would never steer him wrong. And he got the role. You did your civic duty to the world and Henry Cavill was going to be a bad guy again on the silver screen. 

And now while he’s filming you spend all day with your favorite Cavill, Kal. You had gotten a text from your husband saying filming was running late and he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner which didn’t bother you at all. You made a simple pasta dinner and left it on the table cause you didn’t want to eat without him. Usually, when he runs late he gets home around 10 or 11 instead of 6 and you had a big lunch with friends so you didn’t mind waiting. While you waited for him to come home you and Kal sat on the couch watching The Office (American edition). It was the episode with Asian Jim so you were dying laughing over Dwight's reaction. Suddenly the front door opened and you felt a kiss on the top of your head, cause you were too busy to look over at who walked in the house. Though you knew it was Henry. 

“I could have been a robber,” he lightly scorned seeing as the front door was unlocked.

“Well then the robber could finish the episode with me and then take our things,” you teased still not looking at him. 

“You are a pain, love,” he said taking off his jacket and locking the front door. 

Kal, your nice warm cuddle buddy, jumped off the couch and ran to Henry excited that he was home. You turned to scorn your husband for causing your furnace to leave when you took in his appearance. 

“What is that,” you asked him noticing how he was covered in tattoos. Like COVERED. His neck, both arms and his knuckles had ink. 

“I didn’t want to keep the makeup artist there any longer and I told them to leave them til tomorrow,” he explained rubbing behind Kal’s ear. 

When he was met with silence he looked over at you and noticed you were staring. He immediately thought you were turned off. 

“I’ll try to get us to wrap earlier tomorrow so they have time to take it off,” he says grabbing Kal’s leash to take him on a walk. 

“You don’t have to,” you said staring at the tattoo on his neck and biting your lip. 

It suddenly clicked in his mind that you were very much turned on. He smirked at your reaction and bent over to whisper in your ear. 

“I'm going to walk Kal and when I get back I'll show you the rest of them.”

“There’s more,” you gasped finally bringing yourself to look him in the eye. 

He simply replied with a nod and walked back out of the house to walk the dog. Henry might have been gone for only 10 minutes but seeing how you were suddenly very hot and bothered it felt like hours. You were too antsy to move from your spot on the couch and could not for the life of you pay attention to the antics of Jim and Dwight. When Henry finally came back, he sent Kal to lie down in his bed in the living room and threw you over his shoulders to bring you to the bedroom. 

“You are not helping my situation,” you cried out as he threw you on the bed. 

“I'm not in a helping mood,” he replied taking off his shirt. 

His chest was covered in tattoos and scars. There was no bare centimeter of skin. You got on your knees and slowly ran your hand over the art. When you reached his navel he turned around and showed you the back. There was a cross with a rose intertwined with it and blood dripping from the stem. You turned him back around and placed one hand over the skill on his chest and your other hand covered the flames on his neck and brought him down to you for a very firm kiss. His hands went to your waist and he laid you down hovering over you. As soon as you got your legs out from under you they went around his waist to bring him closer to you. The kiss got very heated and sloppy. His lips left yours and traveled to your neck. Your hands alternated between gripping his hair and scratching his back. 

He pulled himself from you and removed the shirt you were wearing leaving your chest bare. He kissed your nose then your lips then your neck and kept traveling til he was right above your shorts. You whined as he slowly took off your shorts and peppered your hips with kisses. When he finally took your shorts off he kissed the inside of your ankle and slowly went up til his nose brushed against your very wet cunt. 

“Hen, please,” you cried as he just kept kissing your inner thigh and letting his mouth hover so close but so far from when you needed him. 

“Where do you need me,” he asked bringing his face back up to yours and staring into your eyes. “Here,” he asked placing a kiss on your neck. You shook your head no. “here,” he asked kissing between your breasts. 

“No,” you cried wiggling beneath him. 

His hands gripped your hips causing your movements to cease and his lips brushed over your right nipple. “Here?” You again shook your head no. and he did the same to your left nipple. He asked the same question and got the same answer. He continued to kiss down your body, your stomach, hips, knee, and ankle but still wouldn’t touch you where you needed him. 

“If you don’t hurry up or I’m going to do it myself,” you cried out. 

“No, you’re not. You are mine, your kisses are mine. Your tears are mine. Your whimpers, moans, and pleas are mine. And for damn sure your orgasms are mine. No one, no toy, not even these beautiful fingers can bring you the pleasure I can,” he said kissing the tip of all ten of your fingers. “They can’t fill you or stretch you the way I can. You will forever be unsatisfied, empty, and cold without my fingers, mouth, and cock to fill you and keep you warm.”

His mouth finally hovered over where you needed him. He could see and smell how turned on you were but still hesitated to do anything about it. “Say it. Say no one can fuck you like I can. Tell me you are mine,” he said staring at you. 

You wiggled and cried and gasped at the feeling of his hot breath on your cunt. You tried to close your leg to get a little morsel of relief but his hands gripped your thighs and forced them open. 

“Say it,” he said again this time deliberately blowing directly on your clit. 

“Fuck. I’m yours only yours. No one can ever fuck me as good as you do,” you cried trying to close your legs again but not moving them an inch. “Please Hen I can’t take it.”

“Good girl. I’ve got you just relax,” he said before attaching his mouth to your aching cunt and eating you out like a starved man. 

His tongue traveled from your clit to your vagina and back again. He started sucking on your clit but his eyes never left your face. He watched as your eyes closed and face contorted with pleasure. Your hands gripped his hair and you were either trying to pull him away or pushing him in more you didn’t know but a groan left his throat causing you to fall over the edge and cum in his mouth. 

He lapped up the juices and sat back and just admired the mess between your legs. He used his fingers to spread you open so he could get a closer look. He spits in your very exposed cunt and then goes back to eating you like you were a whole meal at a 5-star restaurant. You cried and screamed his name when his teeth gently grazed over your clit. Before you could even come down from your first orgasm the second one hit like a ton of bricks. Your hips lifted off the bed and you screamed his name but he still wasn’t done. When your legs stopped shaking he finally removed his mouth and bruised your lips with a kiss. You let out a moan when you tasted yourself on his lips. 

You opened your eyes and noticed his were filled with a lustful/predatory look. He gently pressed kisses on your nose and lips causing you to laugh. His hand traveled from your neck to your left breast then down til his fingers stopped between your legs. 

“I'm not done with you princess, that was just my mouth. We still have my fingers,” he said pressing two into you without warning causing you to gasp. “And my cock,” he said placing a small kiss on your neck. 

“Fuck Hen,” you cried turning your head away from him. 

“On no princess, I said those are mine. You are going to look in my eyes as you come undone on just my fingers,” he said turning your head towards him.

You couldn’t say a word so you just nodded as your response. He thrust his finger in and out of you so slowly that it was almost painful. “Faster please,” you whined running your hands through his hair and bringing his lips against you. 

“Too impatient, you that much of a whore you can’t wait to drench my finger,” he asked picking up his speed. 

“Oh yes,” you said both at the new pace and his words.

“Yes, what,” he asked pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them to his lips. “Fuck you taste exquisite.”

You whined at the now empty feeling seeing as you were so close to cumming again. “Yes, I'm your whore please.”

Satisfied with your answer he plunged his fingers into your agains and was fucking you with such a brutal pace that tears fell from your eyes. “That’s my good girl. You're doing so well for me. You're taking my fingers so well, should we add another,” he asked rubbing your clit with his fingers. 

“Yes, Daddy please.”

He inserted another finger and stretched you out. Henry stroked your face when he saw you wince in pain. 

“It's okay baby, Your pussy was made for me. I can feel you gripping my fingers. Do you wanna cum,” he asked kissing your ear. 

“Please,” you whined. 

“Let go, Daddy’s got you,” he whispered. “Be my good girl and cum for me.”

The knot in your stomach broke and a wave of ecstasy filled every atom of your body. His finger still fucked you through through your intense orgasm. When you came down he once again removed his fingers. He brought them to your lips and gave them a little tap. 

“Clean my fingers, taste how sweet you taste,” he said looking at you. 

You sucked your cum off his fingers like there was no tomorrow while your eyes never left his. Once you were done he removed his fingers from your mouth and got off the bed to remove his jeans. Out of instinct, you got on your knees in front of him. He unbuckled his pants and pulled both his jeans and boxers down. You were about to take him in your mouth when you noticed more tattoos on his hips and all over his legs. 

Your fingers traced the dragon that covered his entire right leg. From his ankle to his hip. On his left thigh was a wolf’s head with trees around it like it was a forest. Henry let out a growl seeing as were were quite literally leaving him hanging. 

“It's not fun is it,” you retorted letting him think your were punished him for leaving you high and dry earlier. 

“Either you take my cock in your mouth now or I shove it down your throat and fuck you so hard you can’t speak,” he threatened gripping your throat and forcing you to look up. 

You pressed your legs at the thought of him fucking your mouth with such force. He noticed you squirm and he laughed. “You want that, don’t you. You want to wake up tomorrow with a sore throat and remember how I used you for the slut you are.”

You nodded your head and his hands gripped your head and he just stared into your eyes. “Then open up,” he said before he shoved his dick down your throat causing you to gag. Once the shock was over you tried to suck the soul out of him. 

“Fuck,” he moaned as your nails dug into his thighs.

He kept fucking your mouth and made sure that every inch was in. He brought your face to the base of his cock then pulled out completely to give you a breath. His thump traced your lips and pushed the drool from your chin back into your mouth. “My beautiful wife.” Your mouth fell open waiting for him to shove his cock back down your throat. Henry let out a laugh before giving you what you wanted. The pace he was going was brutal but beautiful at the same time. 

You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure at the feeling of your mouth. The sound of his balls slapping your chin filled your ears making your legs squeeze together. Henry’s hands cradled your face as he forced his cock as far down your throat as he could reach and he just held you there. When your tongue ran over the vein on the underside of him he quickly pulled himself out. 

“If I’m going to cum anywhere,” he said pulling you to him, “it’s going to be in this pussy.”

Henry’s hand stroked you clit one more time before he gently pushed you down on the bed. You tried to scoot up to the pillows but, Henry grabbed your ankles and dragged you back down til your ass was almost off the bed. He brushed your hair out of your face and places a kiss on your nose before plunging deep into your aching cunt. 

“Fuck,” you yelled dragging your nails down his back. 

Henry pounded into you at an alarming pace causing you to slowly move up the bed. “I'm gonna,” you yelled before his lips attacked yours. The orgasm ripped through your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably and your bones felt like mush. But Henry didn’t stop. His pace was speeding up like he was chasing his own pleasure. 

“I can’t,” you cried moving your head side to side. 

“Yes, you can baby. Just one more,” he said kissing your shoulder. “I'm almost there, you’re doing such a good job.”

Your head is still shaking from the overstimulation. His hands went from your waist to your painfully throbbing clit. “Please,” you cried when he roughly pinched it. He ignored your cries and just focused on your clit. You tried moving away but his other hand moved to your throat. “I know baby. But I know you have one more. Please I need you,” he pleaded as his strokes slowed down. You slowly nodded your head and he forcefully kissed you again. He removed his hand from your throat and went back to your thigh. Henry gave you a little squeeze before moving your legs over his shoulders. 

At this angle, you could swear you felt more of him. He slammed into you over and over again. “Cum with me baby,” he said bending you practically if half so he could kiss you. His movements stopped and his head fell to your shoulder as he came. “Fuck,” he yelled once he emptied his entire load. He stayed in you for a minute to catch his breath. 

“I love you,” he said whipping the sweat off your brow. 

You winced when he slowly removed himself. “I love you too,” you said when he walked into the bathroom to get a washcloth. When he ran the warm cloth over your abused cunt you flenched in pain. “Fuck, did I hurt you,” he asked kissing your knee. You shook your head and pulled him up to you. “Just very sore. Can you just hold me,” you asked.

He rolled off you and laid on his back with his arm extended waiting for you to move at your own pace. While your head rested on his chest, he rubbed small circles on your lower back. 

“So you want me to keep these tomorrow too,” he asked mumbling into your hair. You let out a laugh and slapped his stomach. “God no, I can’t survive another night like this tomorrow,” you said moving to look up at him. “But definitely next week,” you said with a smile.

[incoherentmorals]

soft! joel miller x fem reader

warnings ? fluff, slightly angsty, outbreak au, joel and reader just want to live in a nice house and adopt ellie, they're just soft parents tbh, no smut, henry and sam are here !! but just briefly mentioned, joel opens up kinda

the remnants of today settle in your bones as you lay on the cold floor, using your backpack as a pillow. in the distance you can hear joel and henry doing the same, probably feeling as exhausted as you are. the hope within you isn't entirely gone; henry says he knows a way and ellie is happy to currently have a new friend— sam’s a great kid.

you can feel your eyelids growing heavy while you think about the previous days and what needs to be done in the ones that will soon come. find supplies to keep the trip going, reach the desired destination and hand ellie over ... that last task is what keeps you up most nights but not tonight.

before you know it, sleep wins over you and you fall fast asleep.

joel’s eyes are on you from where he's supposedly sleeping. he stares at your back, the way your body moves as you breathe and he sits up.

it hasn't been smooth these past few days, not at all, and your last conversation wasn't peachy either. you would always argue about ellie’s situation and how dangerous it was to hand her over to some complete strangers — and before he used the we're strangers too card, you would tell him to fuck off. you were right of course; the three of you had been travelling together for months so he'd be a big hypocrite to say that he didn't feel that familial bond tugging at his gut.

he checks around making sure that henry is fast asleep and the door to the kids’ room is properly shut. after that he proceeds to drop his backpack next to yours before laying by your side.

you're not exactly a light sleeper but nonetheless you can feel the shift behind you, the sudden change that you're not alone anymore.

“hm?” you turn around slowly until you're facing joel in a proper manner.

joel doesn't reply, doesn't even bother to be vocal at that moment. he simply stares at you and although his face is peaceful, you can tell his mind is at war. all it takes is for you to raise your hand and cup his cheek softly for the fight in joel’s mind to cease.

you watch as his eyes close and you wait, your fingers brushing back and forth over his cheek.

when joel opens his eyes again, they're glassy, and the realization that he trusts you enough to cry in front of you finally dawns.

“I don't want to let this go.” you hear him whisper and you shuffle closer to him, just enough to hear better.

your fingers slide from his jaw up to the back of his ear and you repeat the motion often. it is soothing for him, you realize.

“me neither.” you mumble and you can tell that he appreciates how thoughtful you're being with the distance — you just *know* he needs enough space to breathe. to not feel confined.

“joel.” your voice grounds him to reality, to light. he keeps his eyes on you as you speak and tries to focus on the sound of your gentle voice. “whatever happens in the end, whatever you choose to do...I will follow you.” his heart clenches a little at your loyalty — it's been a while since he felt this way. probably since tess.

“I promised her.” he says with saddened eyes.

“You can't save everyone.” you reply.

“But ellie can.” joel’s answer silences you both for a moment until those selfish words leave your lips.

“Maybe they don't deserve to be saved.” and while tess would beg to differ, joel wholeheartedly agrees with you. not everyone deserves to be saved.

the night is spent with silent eye contact and the soft brush of your fingers against joel’s face. he eventually places his hand over yours and compares the sizes of your palms — his is simply gigantic compared to yours, or anyone's you've known for that matter.

“What’s that about people telling you your fortune through your veins?” joel asks randomly and you will yourself not to laugh.

“You mean the palm of your hand, old man?” both of you grin and it suddenly feels like another fun pre-apocalyptic thursday.

it is probably an hour later when joel manages to fall asleep with your hand in his, your fingers tightly intertwined.

you've never seen him so peaceful; never witnessed him sleep the way he does now since forever. your heart and mind race because joel’s expression,when he's around you, starts giving off a single feeling. comfort.

you think about stuff again; joel’s and ellie’s dreams after the apocalypse, your dreams, a better world. your mind wanders a million miles but it always comes back to one thing only. the image of a humble house filled with yourself and two other people. that gruff voice and that ashy wave of hair, and then that brownish spark with the most adorable eyes.

it’s a silly thought to want to be a mother to a kid that isn't your own, you think while staring towards the door where sam and ellie are probably sleeping.

it's as silly to consider filling that void in your heart by the side of a worn out man, you think again and your eyes trace joel's face this time. you bring your intertwined hands to your lips and you mindlessly kiss his knuckles, watching as he doesn't stir at all.

despite the sadness tugging at your heartstrings and the bittersweet feeling of ‘dreams just being dreams’ you close your eyes and allow yourself a moment of clarity and of hope.

because maybe things will change, maybe you will not have to wait for the next life to have the family that you want.

[hairmetal666]

Read Part One here

cw: implied child abuse

Eddie's coming over for coffee. Not Eddie with Nancy and Robin or Eddie with the kids. Just Eddie.

They haven't been alone in 9 years and now Eddie is coming over for coffee.

They're friends, of course. After Vecna they didn't have much of a choice, but they've never talked about it--that they used to be something.

After Steve kissed Eddie goodbye for what turned out to be the last time, they didn't see each other again for months and months, except for a devastatingly fleeting moment in the Family Video parking lot. And the next time after that, Eddie's pinning him to the wall of a rickety boathouse, a broken bottle to his throat.

What's going through his mind, his body, at that moment is relief. For days, weeks, months, he ached for Eddie's touch again, and even though he was in danger, he relished in the push of their bodies together. Thought, if this is how he dies, he won't mind going.

But they don't talk about it, about them, because Eddie is on the run and Max is going to die, and they have to save the world, so there's no time. In the aftermath, it's the least of their worries, and now it's been almost a decade and Eddie is coming over for coffee.

The thing is, it's not like Steve has been pining away for a love long lost in the intervening years, and neither has Eddie. They've both had longterm, serious relationships; Steve almost got married. But for Steve...Eddie is the one that's lingered, the one that knocks around his ribcage on late sleepless nights, the one that makes him dream of what might have been. Because Steve truly loved his other partners, but Eddie--nobody will ever compare.

Someone is knocking a rhythm at his front door, and he can't stifle his smile even as his heart runs riot in his chest.

"Hey, man," he says, remarkably nonchalant as he takes Eddie in. Still beautiful, still brimming with energy; his smile wide and dimpled, bouncing on his toes.

"Harrington!" Eddie grabs him into a quick side hug, slapping his back. "Since when do you wear glasses?"

Steve chuckles, touching the horn-rimmed frames. "Oh, god, Robin forced me to get them back in '87? Too many concussions." He touches his forehead. "I usually just wear contacts."

"It's a good look," Eddie says. He's very much not looking at Steve, eyes roaming around the Chicago apartment he's been to many times before.

He watches as Eddie spots the display of his own books, index finger slowly slipping across the spines in a way that makes Steve remember when those same fingers would slide down his spine. He stifles a shiver, turns towards the kitchen.

"So, how's New York? How's the book coming?"

"Livin' the dream." It's not flippant, not like how most people mean it. Eddie leaks genuineness, always has. "The book though...it's a little rough."

Steve sets the coffee maker going, brings fresh pastries and a couple plates over to the table. "I can imagine. It doesn't--it doesn't have to be the same, you know?"

"Yeah, if only I hadn't written three other books leading up to the evil mind wizard," Eddie chuckles. He grabs a croissant and tears it in half. "It'll be alright, Harrington. I'll figure it out. I lived through it the first time, after all."

Steve doesn't remind him that he almost didn't, that they almost didn't. Instead, he pours coffee, listens as Eddie talks about how to fictionalize the worst month of their collective lives.

He splashes milk into Eddie's coffee, taps in three scoops of sugar. He carries it to where Eddie waits, still talking about the logistics of Vecna-slash-Henry-slash-One in his novel, but his words abruptly stop as his hands wrap around the porcelain.

"Steve?"

It's only then that Steve realizes what he's done--made Eddie's coffee like he took it back then, made it without thinking, totally on muscle memory, when the best of his mornings were spent in Eddie's arms.

His cheeks glow crimson and he grips at the back of his neck. "S-sorry." He says. "It--is this still how you take it?"

"Yeah." Eddie's eyes fall from Steve's face, his own cheeks pink. "It's--yeah. Still the same."

"I'm sorry--"

"--Steve, I--"

They don't laugh. They both stop speaking and look at each other, faces still red. Steve thinks there's nothing for it but to get it all out now.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." He takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry I never came back. I'm sorry I didn't explain why. I'm just--really, really sorry."

Eddie's eyes are hooked on the table top, fingers twisting and twisting his coffee mug. "Can I--why? I waited and you--why?"

Steve swallows, but it gets stuck in his throat, and now he's the one who can't look up from his hands.

"My parents got home early," he manages. "My dad, he was waiting for me. I guess one of the neighbors thought it best to tell them who I'd been spending my time with."

Silence falls over the table, and he chances a look up at the man across from him, the one whose knuckles bite into his lips, whose eyes shine with unshed tears.

"You should've called me. You should've--you could've stayed with us. We would've kept you safe."

"Eddie, I couldn't. I physically couldn't," the admission costs him so much.

"Steve," Eddie chokes on his name, voice nothing but anguish. "Did anyone--You could've--you were all alone."

He shakes his head. "Robin knew. She snuck through my window to take care of me, but my parents--I couldn't--" This time the words really won't come. "We made a plan. We started that job at Family Video, and we saved up our money."

Now, Eddie's face is creased with grief. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry."

Steve shakes his head, smiles despite the wreckage around his heart. "You have nothing to be sorry for, baby. I left you with no explanation. I broke your heart. And--and--" He thinks, what does it hurt to say it at this point. "I love you. I love you so much. I convinced myself you were better off without me, that we could have a clean break and you could get over me."

Eddie's hands cover his face, muffle the sob that slips out. "Get over you?" He whispers. "There's never been one like you, sweetheart."

He slides around the table to kneel at Eddie's side. "Hey." Deep brown eyes stare back at him, Eddie's face wet with tears. "It's always you, Ed. Always. I didn't want to say anything, if you had moved on, but--"

There's not really any transition from them talking to them kissing; Steve slips into it like he did all those years ago, when he first asked for Eddie's kiss. Their mouths slot together, their bodies fit like they always used to, perfect puzzle pieces. Steve's knees give out at the first brush of Eddie's tongue, and they collapse into a heap on the kitchen floor. Even then, they don't part.

Eventually, Steve does break the embrace, face flushed and hair a disaster, glasses hanging off one ear. "Okay, trying to be responsible here. Should we take a pause, go on a date first? Slow down?"

"Nine years isn't slow enough?" Eddie's pupils are blown, hair frizzed around his head.

"When you put it that way," Steve can't help but laugh. "I just want to do right by you, Eddie. Make up for--everything."

Eddie grins down at him, that sunshine beam smile where his dimples pop. "Tell you what, how bout you take me to bed now, and I'll let you take me on a date tomorrow?"

"Oh, you'll let me?" Steve rakes a hand through Eddie's mane of hair. "I don't think you'll have any choice."

"You sure about that, Stevie?" Their lips are so close, the brush with every word.

"Uh-huh," Steve's having trouble keeping his eyes focused, overwhelmed by the sheer force of Eddie Munson. "Never letting you go again, Ed."

Surprise! Part 2! I genuinely had no intention on doing a follow-up, but so many of you asked so nicely that it gave me this idea. Sorry if I miss anyone in the tag list and thank you for reading! @everywherenothere @tiny-enthusiast @emma-elsa-0000 @fuzzyduxk @moonythepluviophile @anaibis @rhapsodyinalto @bunk12bear @tillystealeaves @velocitytimes2 @s-trawberryv-eins @marklee-blackmore @ignoremyworld @its-a-me-a-morgan @goodolefashionedloverboi @starman-jpg @djohawke @adaydreamaway08

[pillowspace]

Fnaf au ramble yada-yada

New thought that's stuck on my mind. One of those time travel fix-it Michael AUs, except Charlie also time travelled after Pizzeria Simulator. Neither of them knows the other remembers everything, and both are too distracted trying to comprehend the sheer normalcy of their own realities to really process how different the other person's acting.

Henry's very concerned as to what's happened to his daughter, as Charlie's suddenly become much more still and quiet, lacking her typical innocent cheer. She forgets to eat or drink until Henry reminds her to, and she won't tell him why she suddenly seems so on edge all the time. She was in terrible conditions as the Marionette for years, she has no idea how she's meant to be a person again. She sits in the same room as Michael and just stares at him, and whenever she's not looking, Michael's staring at her, thinking about a strange history that no longer exists but has put a massive barrier of tension between them both.

But there's also one issue with the time travel.

Neither Charlie nor Michael can remember when any of the deaths are to happen until they're happening.

So one day, Charlie gets locked out of the pizzeria in the rain. At first she pounds on the window, but then she stops. She backs away from it. There is a powerful, suffocating dread in her chest that is so much more than just her aversion to rain, demanding her attention. Something is very, very wrong. Now becoming even more nervous, she tries to recall how she had gotten back inside the building that day.

And she realizes.

She does not have a single memory past this point.

And before a car can even turn the block, Charlie runs.

At the same time, Michael was also running. He had regained the memory of this being the day Charlie dies, and is determined to make it to her before his father can. Only to turn the corner and, sprinting as fast as he can, crash directly into Charlie who had been doing the same. Michael barely has time to regain his focus on the sidewalk before Charlie is already scrambling back up and running past him to gain more distance.

So... life successfully saved! By... herself. What changed? And why had she been running so scared if, when Michael asked, his father hadn't even seen Charlie that day...? And as time goes on for even longer, Michael slowly starts to pick up on Charlie's oddities. Out of everything, it sticks out to him that when her birthday arrives, a birthday that she had never had the chance to see before, she only makes one request:

She wants a music box.

Eventually it'll have to fall into place.

Cassidy could have also time travelled, but I'm hesitant on that because the AU might just end the second they find a fatal weapon. Then again, I could give Cassidy the added bonus of not remembering who their killer even was, so one day they just grab Evan by the shoulders like "Evan. Evan, there is an imposter among us and I have no idea who it is, I'm going to explode. Tell me if you see a murderer" and he's like "there's a WHAT?? D':"

[priniya]

requests guidelines ⭐️

hello everyone! after a year (and a half?) i’ve finally got to myself to show all the things i could write for. it’s gonna be updated regularly as soon as i obsess over something new.

so . . .

i’m not sure if i’m a good person to write smut so… request if u want, but might take a long time before i post it! (i haven’t really written anything smut related so that might be bad)

please, if you request something, write a small blurb of what you’ll like to read!

i mainly write for a female reader with she/her pronouns and all that, but i’m up for gender neutral as well if you feel like it :)

i might add sth here if i think of it, but the most important part is who do i write for. bold stands for my favs, italics is like… second fav, i guess!

✩ harry potter — slytherin boys (theodore nott, mattheo riddle, lorenzo berkshire, draco malfoy + pansy parkinson and daphne greengrass), marauders (james potter, sirius black, remus lupin, regulus black, evan rosier, barty crouch jr.), golden era (harry potter, ron weasley, cedric diggory, weasley twins, ginny weasley).

✩ percy jackson — greek demigods (percy jackson, leo valdez, annabeth chase, luke castellan, grover underwood, hood brothers, clarisse la rue, piper mclean), roman demigods (frank zhang, jason grace, hazel lavasque).

✩ books — the inheritance games (jameson hawthorne, grayson hawthorne, xander hawthorne, avery kylie grambs, thea laughlin), a good girl’s guide to murder (pippa fitz-amobi, ravi singh), hockey boyfriends (nate hawkins, garret graham, john logan, dean di laurenti, john tucker, hunter davenport, henry turner, russ callaghan)

✩ miscellaneous series — jenny han universes (conrad fisher, peter kavinsky, kitty song covey, cam cameron, steven conklin, minho), criminal minds (spencer reid, aaron hotchner, jennifer jareau, derek morgan), outer banks (jj maybank, pope heyward, rafe cameron), my life with the walter boys (alex walter, cole walter, isaac garcia, kailey)

✩ anime — haikyuu (kageyama, tsukishima, osamu, atsumu, suna, oikawa, bokuto, akaashi, kuroo, kenma, semi + the rest😭).

✩ people i don’t know how to classify — zuko + sokka, steve harrington, matthew gray gubler, drew starkey, louis partridge, timothee chalamet, peter parker, nct members.

if you don’t see someone, just ask! there’s a high chance i just forgot about them xx

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Second Chances

Written for @steddieangstyaugust challenge, day 1.

The world was dying. Not just Hawkins, but the whole world, invaded by the creatures of the Upside Down, the particles that made people sick, killed crops, infected water...if it wasn't the end, then it was damn close.

Steve often thought about the moment everything went to shit. Even when Barb died, when Bob died, when the whole mall burned down, there was at least a shred of hope. Even when Chrissy got lifted in the air and her limbs broke like an unwanted doll, there was a plan, something to do. A chance to make things right for the rest of them. It wasn't difficult to pinpoint the point of no return - Eddie dying.

Here was the thing. Steve didn't really believe in time travel, and he was way too high on the Russian truth serum to even consider what it would entail if it ever proved to be true.

Lo and behold, the Hawkins lab of 1990, infected by the creeping decay of the Upside Down, made it possible. Steve found himself transported back to the day of their failed mission to kill Henry. But not just normally transported - inserted into the mind of his younger self, one that wasn't scarred, limping, and on the verge of giving up. And that was great. Steve thrived when he had something to do, and keeping Eddie alive was something to do.

He didn't really care about his real time. If erasing his present meant saving Murray from getting torn in half, Jonathan and Nancy nearly bleeding out, Robin losing her eyesight, and always seeing Dustin's blank, hopeless stare, well. That was fine. He hated to see people he loved suffer. Hence the operation "Save Munson from his heroic awakening and keeping that stupid walkman intact."

It should have been easy. He prepared everyone. He told Eddie what would happen. He instructed Lucas and Erica to ensure Max lived too. He explained that Eddie wouldn't make a difference, but Dustin would mourn him forever and never recover. Eddie nodded, agreed.

Max was saved.

And Eddie got fucking killed again.

Steve got snapped back to the portal in his present with angry tears still in his eyes. "Oh no, you don't!" he muttered and dove in again. The combined mission of "save Max and Eddie" was now just "make Eddie stop dying."

He tried sending Eddie to the Creel house in his place. Explained again, with more detail. But did that rocker wannabe asshole listen? No! The first rustle of demobat wings and he was back, being torn to shreds.

No. That wouldn't do. Again.

Dustin had tried explaining time loops to Steve, but even in his limited understanding, he didn't consider this one. He wasn't trapped anywhere, fucking Eddie Munson was trapped there with him, in a repeated self-worth session that went "self-destruction is a no-no."

Still, he kept dying. And Steve kept trying. No one was going to out-stubborn Steve Harrington.

And finally, one miraculous day, it worked out. Eddie didn't die, Steve did. He felt the familiar "whoosh" of being dragged to his real time, terrified but excited to see what awaited him after, and then...

Then he was back at their makeshift camp in March 1986.

Steve didn't understand. He was staring at the all too familiar scene when a calloused hand grabbed his shoulder and dragged him away. "A word, your majesty."

"Munson, what the-!"

It was Eddie, of course. He'd seen him so many times, talked to him so often, learned about his life, his childhood, his love for Wayne...but there was something different this time. Eddie's eyes seemed much older.

"I know what you're trying to do here, Harrington, and it isn't happening, hear me?" he hissed, and Steve finally understood what seemed so off.  Eddie always looked scared, no matter which attempt, no matter Steve's words or actions. But now, Eddie Munson seemed determined. Angry.

Steve shook off his hand. "What do you mean not happening, Munson?" he whispered, fighting for the last shred of self-control. "Saving the future, that isn't happening? Huh?"

Suddenly, his head snapped back. It took him a good moment to understand that Eddie hit him. "Is that what you call it?!" Eddie hissed back, then snuck a quick glance at the rest of their group. Fortunately no one noticed yet. "Do you even know what you did, Harrington? You fucking died. And everything went to shit."

Glaring at Eddie, Steve rubbed at his sore cheek. "You want to talk about things going to shit?! Do you even know what happens after you die?! People get hurt. People lose hope. And Dustin has never recovered, so there! You have to stay alive no matter what."

Eddie threw his head back and laughed, but it had no joy in it. "Oh really. Well, have you spared a single thought about how he feels, knowing you died to fix the past? How Robin feels?! Do you think that everyone is alive in the future you have so graciously created?! No, Steven. Things are shit and can't be unshitted."

That gave Steve a pause. "Wait.  What do you mean, everyone isn't alive? Who died?"

Eddie scowled at him and crossed his arms. "I'm not telling you. Let's just agree that the future when I'm dead is the better one. Deal?"

"No fucking deal." Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, frowning at the forest ground. "What the hell, man. This was supposed to fix things! Even with Max alive, it's still the same?"

"Yep. Not just the same. Worse. I don't know how to explain it, but...they just need you. Without you, it doesn't work."

"Well, without you it doesn't work either!" Steve spat back. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Eddie shrugged. "I don't know. If things go to shit, the portal will activate anyway, right? So one of us will make it there, if at least one of us lives. So how about we both try to live this time?"

Sighing, Steve nodded. "I've tried everything else, so we might as well. As long as you stop sabotaging my future fixing or whatever by dying."

Eddie grinned and offered Steve his hand, knuckles still red from punching Steve. "Shake on it. No pointless heroisms!"

"If you can keep your word, I'll keep mine, Munson."

...

It wasn't on their first try, not even on the tenth or twentieth. One of them would always found themselves at the portal, jump in, repeat.

And then, by pure chance and a truck load of luck...they lived.

Well, their younger selves did.

Steve sat down on the grimy dead grass of the Upside Down, his limbs heavy. "I think we did it," he told Eddie as he landed next to him. "Something changed."

"Yep. I think..." Eddie trailed off, his voice quieter, weaker. "I think we avoided our futures. Which both sucked, by the way. But that also means..."

"It means we don't exist either," nodded Steve. "I thought so. We'll be gone soon, I guess." He leaned against Eddie, slumping against his shoulder. "It was an honor saving the world with you, Munson."

Eddie laid his head over Steve's nodding. "Likewise, Harrington. I'm kinda bummed we won't see the new future. But I sure hope it's a better one."

Closing their eyes, they let the time take its course.

...

In the new 1990, Eddie Munson woke up next to his boyfriend, Steve Harrington. It was the favorite part of his week, the one free day they shared, when they could cuddle and trade lazy kisses. Eddie was a hedonist by nature, and while he did his best to understand Steve's morning runs, he managed to persuade him that after saving the world, they deserved the one peaceful day only for themselves.

Steve was quiet that morning, and Eddie, always the inquisitive one, had to ask. "What's on your mind, love?"

"I just keep thinking about...you know. That day in March," whispered Steve, running his fingers through Eddie's hair. "I still don't remember it. You don't. But everyone else does. I'm just wondering if it's just a coincidence, that we blanked out and everything went just right."

Eddie smiled at him, but his eyes were serious. "I try not to think about it much," he admitted. "I don't want to jinx it, what we have. I won't look the gift dragon in the mouth. I'd like to think we were possessed by a divine inspiration or something."

Steve snorted and pulled him closer. "What, like angels?"

"Sure. We were possessed by our guardian angels and they made sure we'd survive, fix the world...and have this. Us."

Laughing, Steve pulled Eddie into a kiss. "I'll take it. Guardian angels, wherever you are and if you even exist...thank you."

Eddie snuggled closer and nodded into Steve's hair. "Thank you for everything."

[imthelastshadowpuppet]

I understand why henry winter killed himself. Not because there is nowhere to escape anymore, its because he doesnt have any place to go since julian left. Henry doesnt belong to modern world and the only one who understands his own world is julian. They speak a language that no one can able to understand. They all can translate the sentences henry and julian speaks but they can never understand the way they use the terms. Henry loved camilla i belive that but he loved her in earthly way. He just answered her love. And he didnt love julian the way couples love, he loved julian with his mind and soul. Not with desire. He is craved to being undestand and he is addicted to the one who understands him. Henry never lowered himself infront of anyone he always has a cold gaze short words and intellegence but in his last time with julian henry was so weak and desperate infront of him. He knows he is gonna lose him cause he knows him too well. And he blames julians weakness. While he blames his self and knows that he cause all of this. He never felt guilty before his expression but after walking out that door a piece of him died. His thoughts got rude. Forcing him to death. But its obvious that he doesnt plan for suicide before he got that chance in his hand. He even planning to impound his car to richard for saving charles and himself. But the moment he got the gun in his hand he didnt even think and kiss his earthly love then -bang bang he hit the ground.

there is two songs plays on my mind:

the first one, where henry is weak infront of julian and the days after...

Cause there's nothing for us to talk about

Like the future and those things

Cause there's nothing for me to think about

Now that he's gone, I can't feel nothing-

-You did it, I never

I'm falling for forever

I'm playing head games with you.

and the second one:

Music played and people sang

Just for me, the church bells rang

Now he's gone, I don't know why

Until this day, sometimes I cry

He didn't even say goodbye

He didn't take the time to lie

Bang bang, he shot me down

Bang bang, I hit the ground

Bang bang, that awful sound

Bang bang, my baby shot me down.

[obey-me-disaster]

Hey, I was wonderin if ya could write a headcanon of how the characters could deal with MCs death, if they weren't revived after Belphie killed em in lesson 16.

Thank ya :purple_heart:

A/N: I am not sure if by 'characters' you mean all of them or not. I will do the brothers for now and if you want anyone else, feel free to ask ^-^

Demon brothers x gn!MC

Spoilers for lesson 16!!

Warnings: death and description of it, grieving

MC stays dead for good

Lucifer

He is feeling so many things and none of them are good. MC is dead, his little brother did it, he failed to protect both and it all can be traced back to him.

MC's injuries are beyond healing and all he can do is watch them die and regret everything he has done up until that point. He regrets every time he tried to harm them, he regrets not hiding Belphegor better, far away from them.

When Diavolo and Barbatos appear he lets himself have some hope that they could save MC, only to get hit with the realization that not only would they stay dead, but Belphegor will be taken away for treason too.

If Barbatos decides to reveal the whole Lilith thing, this whole situation will become unbearable to him. He let down everyone he loved and he only has himself to blame.

If he knew how deep of a wound would MC's death leave in his heart, he would have chosen anyone but them for the exchange program. Or maybe not, it was still a privilege to get to know them in the first place.

After MC's death he becomes even stricter with his rules, so none of his brothers can do anything stupid that could get themselves in trouble. He can't bear to lose anyone close to him, especially if he can do something about it.

Mammon

He was the one that held their dying body. All his attention was on them, he couldn't hear the way Belphegor was mocking him for crying over a human.

Despite feeling how they were dying in his arms he was still trying to cling onto the hope that they could be healed. Unfortunately, fate was having something else in mind.

For a good while after their death he could still feel them dying in arms. He is really conflicted over trying to remember that way MC felt in his arms and trying to forget how it felt when they died.

Despite all of that he tries to be of help to all of his brothers. Lucifer can't be the only one trying to keep the family together, especially when he is grieving too. In a way this whole thing reminds him of how all his brothers were after the fall.

He stops takes a long break from gambling and from money making schemes. He really sees no use for the money if MC is not there with him.

He will most likely beat himself over the fact that he couldn't protect them. He was their first man after all, the demon that was put in charge of protecting them and he failed! He is not getting over that guilt any time soon

Leviathan

He thinks it's all a bad dream. Why else would his best friend be dying? At the hands of his brother?? He tries to deny it but it's pretty hard to do so when MC is literally dying in front of him.

He wants to believe that this is one of those moments when the protagonist of an anime is on the brink of death, but through the power of plot armor they get a new power. The only thing MC gets is a one way ticket to the Celestial Realm. guess Simeon and Luke will see them after all

He refuses to come out of his room and face reality. He will rewatch every anime he has watched with them. Will try to recreate the conversations he had with MC by talking with Henry 2.0. His brothers will have to bring food into his room to be sure he doesn't die of starvation.

It takes a long while before he starts going out again, after all, who is The Lord of Shadows without his Henry.

Any and all progress he made on seeing himself in a better light will go down the drain. He will need some time to snap out of it and realize that MC would not want to see him hate himself.

Satan

He knew there was no hope of saving MC bu just glancing at them. That was probably the only time in his life where he cursed all his knowledge and wished he was ignorant. Maybe that he way he could still have some hope that MC will live.

He goes between complete fits of rage and feeling numb. MC taught him how to better feel emotions other than anger and now that they are gone he doesn't know what to do with himself.

He doesn't know who should he direct his anger to. Belphegor for killing them? It seems obvious but it's not enough. Lucifer for creating this situation to begin with? He would love to, but Lucifer is also at his lowest so it doesn't feel right. Himself for not seeing the signs of MC working behind all of their backs? He already does that.

He avoids any and all romance books. He keeps seeing MC in the main love interest and he hates it.

He keeps thinking of all of their injuries and in how much pain they must have been in their last moments. If he wanted to, he could name all of their injuries that he recognized just by looking at their body.

He knows that logically he couldn't do anything, but sometimes the thought of 'if I was better at human medicine/biology I could have saved them'.

Asmodeus

It makes his skin crawl just thinking of the way MC looked as they were taking their last breath. He still has it in the back of his mind. Along that, he also has the feeling of helplessness memorized.

If anyone would think he would stop taking care of himself after MC's death, they would be deathly wrong. MC was one of the only people that didn't like just for his looks, and probably the only one vocal about how they loved his personality. Now with them gone, he thinks there is no one he can show flaws with.

He has to be at his best. To not let anyone know about his imperfections. The demons that don't know him may think he got over MC's death pretty fast, but his brothers that live with him can hear him sob in his bedroom.

He sleeps with a lot of demons and humans in hopes of getting rid of the pain but it doesn't help since he is missing the affectionate, non sexual, touches that MC would give him.

He made a special album of all the photos he ever took of MC. He didn't want to risk the photos from his phones disappearing by accident and lose something important for him. He would hate to not be able to gaze at their face, even if it's just through photos

Beelzebub

This man is crushed. Not only did he lose MC, he lost them at the hands of his twin. He is beyond torn on the inside, and no matter what side he chooses to take he will be riddled with guilt.

At that moment he felt just like during their fall. A huge joke of a protector that couldn't keep his loved ones alive. His nightmares after the whole incident will be nearly a daily basis.

He tries to talk with Belphie about the whole incident, he doesn't want to lose two people at the same time, but he also feels like he is betraying MC's memory by trying to save his twin.

If the whole reveal of MC being Lilith's reincarnation's descendent happens that will literally end him. He couldn't protect the last thing that was related to Lilith.

Just like Satan, his sin is out of control. He goes between long periods of not eating and periods where his gluttony is worse than ever.

The only thing worse than his gluttony is his survivor's guilt. People he loves and cares about keeping on dying/being taken away yet he remains unharmed and for what? Is that a cruel joke of the universe? He didn't even get to protect MC/talk with Belphie during the incident. He literally couldn't do anything but ask himself 'why?'

Belphegor

I already made a post on how MC and Belphegor got to bond before lesson 16.

At first he feels justified. He got his revenge, proved his point and protected his family from having the same faith as Lilith. Yet despite all of that it feels wrong.

Satisfaction from killing them quickly turned into anger at seeing his brothers cry over a 'random human' to regret. He realized that he himself got attached to them, and now that both his anger and MC were gone he was left with nothing. His brothers must hate him now, after all he murdered someone precious to them.

Due to treason he is locked up somewhere away from his brothers so in his mind, he really lost everything. If Diavolo and Barbatos reveal the whole Lilith thing he will literally want to end himself on the spot. He lost his sister, MC, the only remainder of his sister, lived in hate for something that was not even true, betrayed his brothers and lost them. In one night his life took a turn for the worst in a way he could not even imagine.

And on top of all of that, he can feel the way Beel is trying to cope with the loss of MC and feels even more guilty for making Beel go through that.

He also can't make himself grieve for MC cause in his mind, he has no right to do that, after all he killed them in cold blood and laughed over their body.

[marywisdom]

Okay so I’m a physical conspiracy board away from turning into Riz, but there’s one thing I cannot get out of my mind and that’s

The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly. Not the other way around. The Rogue teacher found Kipperlilly.

Which means that the Ratgrinders have at least one teacher in their corner (likely two if Ruben and Henry Hopclap don’t share a name by pure fucking coincidence). What does the Rogue teacher have against the Bad Kids?? Have we met them already?? Are there more teachers with taking issue with them? I actually don’t think Porter, he’s just a dick. But like, somebody wants the Ratgrinders to get revenge for something.

What I think is likely:

- Lucy Frostblade died at the end of Junior Year due to something related to the Bad Kids shenanigans.

- This turned Ruben emo -> is there a clue hidden in his song? “In space no one can feel you dying” - is this what happened to Lucy?? Did Lucy go to Astral Space, either to look for YES! or for another god and did she die there? Did she die because of Cassandra? Did she die because of YES!? Did she die because of the Night Yorb?

- side note, I am throwing it out there, I think the Rogue teacher is that little aviator goblin - I don’t trust him, also Brennan pointedly said that kid was like Riz in Freshman year, only into aviation instead of detective stuff, and with how the Ratgrinders are so clearly mirrored after the Bad Kids I am suspicious. Bonus points if Ecaf is somehow involved, being an actual mirror. (Oh god I’m this close to writing an essay about how Brennan is holding up a mirror to all of his PCs this season and what this symbolizes in terms of growing up and such)

- Anyway, Lucy’s death must have something to do with the Bad Kids. Why else would they specifically request a Cleric of Helio for their party, if not to mess with Kristen?

This list has gotten away from me - anyway I cannot wait to find out what the Ratgrinders High Five Heroes did for their Sophomore Year project. I’ve got a feeling it’s really important

[hedgehog-moss]

Loved your mentioning of learning poetry by heart: this is something I haven’t done since school! What are some of your favs that you’d suggest to ease my brain back into it?

(Française ici donc les options 🇫🇷 autant que anglais sont welcome :) merci!)

Hi :) You can look at the poem tag of my quote blog if you want—some of the ones I've learnt by heart (or excerpts from them) include this one by Sara Teasdale - Nanao Sakaki - Velimir Khlebnikov - Wallace Stevens - Rabindranath Tagore - Archibald Macleish - Howard Nemerov - and these paragraphs by Henri Peña-Ruiz which I consider prose poetry... My favourite French verses (from Corneille, Aragon, Anna de Noailles, Hugo, Valéry...) are all alexandrines and I find it to be the easiest type of verse to remember, as the structure is so rigorous and consistent. I sometimes translate English poems into alexandrines (like this one) to make them easier to learn in this more familiar form—I think even after all this time English prosody still feels foreign to me; the patterns of sound and rhythm in French are more deeply embedded in my brain so it can more easily predict what comes next...

Re: easing your brain into it, I guess that depends on your style of learning? For me the best way to learn a text is to spend time with it in written form, be it by translating it, or by writing it down by hand (slowly) and then (sometimes) keeping it for a while in a place where I often stand idle, like taped to my microwave so I re-read it as I wait 1 minute for something to heat up.

One thing I like about learning poems is that it's a costless, always-accessible way to get a sense of personal accomplishment. Beyond that, I've got three categories of poems I like to learn for different reasons—I'll go into some detail in case it can help you figure out what you're after :)

1. Classic poetry, because it's just fun to have little snippets of ancient tragedies or epic Victor Hugo poems living at the back of your mind and accompanying you through your own everyday tragedies—as an overdramatic person who tends to feel devastated or exasperated over tiny stuff, it helps me to take some distance from my feelings. Like if I spill a bucket of manure on my boots and my first reaction is rage and despair and my second thought is a couple of verses by Euripides where Iphigenia bemoans her relentless fate, it's a way to make fun of (and get over) myself.

My grandmother did this a lot, she knew so many poems by heart and often used them ironically. If I went whining to her when I was little she'd recite to me the last few verses of Alfred de Vigny's La Mort du Loup (it sounds better in the original but):

[...] With all your being you must strive To that highest degree of stoic pride [...] Weeping or praying—all this is in vain. You must instead shoulder your long and heavy task In the way that Destiny has seen fit to ask Then suffer and die without complaint.

(Let me tell you, that's just what a five-year-old wants to hear after scratching her knee at the park) But really I admired this treasury of poetry she carried within her, especially as she only went to school until age 14 and came upon most of it thanks to her own curiosity; as well as the way she used it playfully in everyday life, using dramatic classical verse to de-dramatise minor annoyances.

2. Nature poems are great in the opposite way, to magnify minor positive things :) Like seeing a fox and having a few lines by Mary Oliver come to mind, seeing a frog and thinking of that Basho haiku... I recently discovered Jean-Michel Maulpoix and I also love his nature poems, like 'The recovery of blue after a downpour', the way he describes snow melting in the spring, or golden-blue evenings:

[Snow] takes some time to leave, but delicately. She doesn’t insist, hardly persists, never roots… She gives way. No one else dies so merrily With such good humour Unmatched is her disdain for eternity…

L’azur, certains soirs, a des soins de vieil or. Le paysage est une icône. Il semble qu’au soleil couchant, le ciel qui se craquelle se reprenne un instant à croire à son bleu.

3. And then there are the poems that proudly serve no purpose. <3 I mean beyond distilling language in a beautiful way. No deep meaning—or no meaning at all, e.g. surrealist poetry. I learnt this passage from Les Champs magnétiques back in middle school:

La fenêtre creusée dans notre chair s'ouvre sur notre cœur. On y voit un immense lac où viennent se poser à midi des libellules mordorées et odorantes comme des pivoines. Quel est ce grand arbre où les animaux vont se regarder ? Il y a des siècles que nous lui versons à boire. . . Prisonniers des gouttes d'eau, nous ne sommes que des animaux perpétuels. . . Nous ne savons plus rien des astres morts ; nous regardons les visages. . . Quelquefois, le vent nous entoure de ses grandes mains froides et nous attache aux arbres découpés par le soleil.

—and I've often recited it to myself just to enjoy these gratuitously nice sentences that aren't here to deliver information. Like Kay Ryan said, "Poetry makes nothing happen. That's the relief of it." It's a nice break, a way to remember that communicating isn't all language is for; beyond the social dimension there's also an intimate one that relies on our own aesthetic sensitivity. Most of the time we look through language, to access ideas, meanwhile enjoying poetry means looking at language, for a change, appreciating it for itself.

I just realised I'm paraphrasing John Brehm here—in The Poetry of Impermanence he wrote something that can be read as an ode to learning things by heart:

When you read lines that seem especially lit up—that move or intrigue you in some way, or that are simply pleasing or even dazzling—don’t focus on being able to formulate a statement about what they might mean, as if you might be called upon to explain the poem, to yourself or to someone else. Just linger with those poems or passages that resonate with you. . . Rest your mind on them; let them live inside you.

[deadpresidents]

Today is a good day to remember Salvador Allende, the democratically-elected President of Chile, who died in September 1973. Allende most likely shot himself in the La Moneda Presidential Palace in Santiago when he could no longer fight off the forces of General Augusto Pinochet as they executed a violent coup heavily supported by the United States and Henry Kissinger. Pinochet then ruled Chile as an American-supported "anti-communist" military dictator for nearly two decades in which tens of thousands of Chileans were killed, jailed, or simply disappeared.

Allende, a socialist, was popularly elected as Chile's President with promises to strengthen democracy in Latin America and institute significant economic, education, and health reforms in order to dramatically improve the social welfare of the Chilean people. Some American leaders, like Henry Kissinger, saw him as a potential threat -- a South American version of Fidel Castro -- and the CIA begin laying the groundwork for eventual regime change.

The biggest problem with Allende, in Kissinger's mind, was the very fact that he was freely and democratically elected. In a memo to President Nixon that is still somewhat shocking to read, Kissinger wrote that "Allende was elected legally...He has legitimacy in the eyes of Chileans and most of the world; there is nothing we can do to deny him that legitimacy or claim he does not have it." Kissinger then reminds Nixon that "We are strongly on record in support of self-determination and respect for free election; you are firmly on record for non-intervention in the internal affairs of this hemisphere and of accepting nations 'as they are.'" Then he spends several pages outlining ways in which to undermine, delegitimize, and potentially eliminate "the Problem." After all, as Kissinger wrote shortly before Allende was elected, "I don't see why we need to stand by and watch a country go communist due to the irresponsibility of its people. The issues are much too important for the Chilean voters to be left to decide for themselves."