#band denied at border

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

The Blackwood Knight prt.5

Description: In which Benjicot wishes to inspire his Lady's confidence in his love.

Playlist:

Once Upon a Dream~ Lana Del Rey

Steal My Girl~ One Direction

Call It What You Want~ Taylor Swift

Warnings: female reader. Nothing else I don't think. Just pure fluff.

Y/N tripped towards the Brackentree the next day in high spirits, her heart soaring at the confirmation that her love for her Blackwood knight was requited, turning over in mind the events of the previous afternoon and the memory of Benjicot’s smile as he kissed her hand at the border of the Bracken lands when they parted.

Buoyed by a newfound confidence, the source of which, she could only locate in the weeks she had spent in Benjicot’s company, she was surprised to see the glint of his sword leaning against their empty tree. Confused at the absence of the knight, where his sword was, she placed her hand on the trunk of the tree and began to look around it for signs of when he might have been there. As she leaned around the tree, a hand took hold of her own on the tree trunk and placed something around her finger. Startled, she turned rapidly to see the amused, yet soft smile of Benjicot, still holding her hand in his.

Smiling indulgently at him, she looked down at her hand in his to see a burnished gold band, encrusted with a deep garnet gem, sparkling on the second finger of her left hand.

Seeing Y/N’s quizzical expression, he pulled her hand gently towards him, raising it to wrap her arm around his neck, before reaching out with his other arm to encircle her waist, closing the distance between them.

“Do you like it?” he asked with a reverential tone.

“It’s beautiful, but why are you giving it to me?”

Chuckling indulgently and lightly pinching her cheek, he opened his palm to hold her face before responding.

“Unless you are planning on lancing me through the heart by renegading on your promise to marry me yesterday, I had hoped that the future Lady Blackwood would like to possess an heirloom of the House she is soon to belong to.”

Looking once again in wonder at the gem on her finger, she looked up at Benjicot with an expression of complete joy, surprising him by reaching up with both hands to encircle his neck in an embrace that lifted her off the ground, as he delightedly caught her and spun her in a circle, increasing speed as she began to laugh.

Reluctantly returning her to the ground, he continued to hold her in her embrace, both arms enclosed around her lower back, as he gaze down at the light of his life.

“If I had known that I would be rewarded with such a response to a small trinket I would have sacked my ancestral halls long before now and demanded you take your pick.”

Laughing at this and swatting at his chest, Y/N beamed up at him.

“It feels as if it is real now. That you really do love me and wish for me to be your lady.”

His face falling slightly at this, he pulled her closer towards his chest, trying to get as close to her as possible.

“It is real. I do love you. I do wish for you to be my lady, most desperately. So much so that I should be most put out if you backed out now,” he returned in a tone that made it sound like a sally, but held a depth of love and a fear that she may be retracting her earlier acquiescence to his proposal.

Smiling softly up at him, and grasping his hand in her now bejewelled hand, she assured him, “I won’t change my mind.”

“I am relieved to hear it” he returned, in a voice that held no mirth in it, his sigh giving away his genuine contentment at her assurance that he was not, in fact, to be lanced through the heart.

Lightening his tone, he continued, “it is of course a relief to be told that I am still for this world.”

“You’re so dramatic, Benji!” she laughed again, swatting at him again, as he sought to conceal from his expression how endearing he found these light touches, so indicative of them were they of her growing confidence in his love. He could also not deny that the lack of force she put into them was very sweet and only serve to strengthen his desire to protect such gentleness.

“Is that so?” he jested, “my lady does not care for my wellbeing then,” he sighed dramatically, turning from her, as if in high sorrow.

“She does not then love me as I love her. Alas, what misery, I shall go forwith and put myself to the sword.”

Grabbing his arm, Y/N looked up at Benji with fear in her eyes, and it was all he could do not to either laugh or kiss her, so concerned did she look by his blatant antics.

Continuing the charade, he moved away from her, with great reluctance.

“Life has lost all meaning for me now, there is nothing to be done. I must depart from it.” He sighed again, with great drama.

Continuing to stride away from her, he began to count in his head, secretly hoping she would stop him, so that he could again take her in his arms and end the game, little expecting her to grab him so abruptly, causing them both to lose their footing.

Turning himself quickly and wrapping his arms around her waist so that he landed on the ground, cushioning her fall onto his chest, he quickly lifted his head to check on her condition.

Raising them both so that he could hold her head and examine her face, checking for any sign of tears or distress that might reveal she had hurt herself, he was relieved to see that she looked confused, but unharmed. That was, before she fixed him with a glare and pushed herself up, away from him.

“You were jesting the whole time, you rogue.”

Pushing himself up with a laugh, he returned, “that may be so, but I cannot be sorry for it, when you so sweetly came to defend my life and then rewarded me by falling into my arms once again.”

Secretly rejoicing at the pink blush rising in her cheeks, he winked at her before leaning towards her to place a chaste kiss on her brow.

Hovering over the place in which he had planted a kiss, conveying all the reverence and admiration he held for her into it, he spoke lowly, and earnestly.

“I do mean what I say, even when I jest with you. It’s essential to me that you love me…that you will let me love you. That you will consent to be mine, as I am most undoubtedly yours.”

At this, he then continued to place small, reverential kisses onto both of her cheeks, both sides of her jaw, and finally on her lips, cupping her face as he did so.

The golden light of the sun cast it’s rays onto the sight of a knight and his lady, lying in a meadow, her head on his chest, as they continued to plan their lives together.

@lovebabe18 @poppyflower-22 @ithilwen-blackwood @spinachtz @lady-callisto @twistytimesandthoughts @abookloverlawyerfan-blog @mymoonempress @drwho-ess

[hauntedhokage]

Lucifer/F!MC

word count: 1.4k

warnings: solo play, technically trespassing(?), panty stealing, in-denial Lucifer but also possessive Lucifer, not beta read

note:  this is officially a double-dip: I started this for kinktober and have been inspired to finish it for the @om-adventcalendar

He didn’t like you. 

That had to be stressed that he did not like the little human living in his home. You were too fragile for the Devildom, too soft, too human. His brothers had their own variations of interest developing, the pact you’d made with Mammon only signifying more trouble to come as more pacts were made. More trouble for him to have to clean up as the eldest or else he’d be answering to Diavolo and Barbatos as to why the Devildom was in such disarray around a human of all things (and one that wasn’t Solomon). 

No, Lucifer didn’t like you. But he couldn’t deny that you were attractive - he’d go so far as to say that you were beautiful. With features that bordered on angelic, features that weren’t commonly seen in either the Devildom or Celestial realms, features that he’d thought about constantly. It was annoying how often you were on his mind, how often he had to talk about you and think about the way you had to look up at him when you spoke to him - or the time he’d lent you his cloak due to unplanned rain and the way it made you look tinier than you already were.

Your clothes were tiny, too, which was to be expected considering your size in comparison to his own, but it was more apparent when your clothes somehow ended up with his own laundry. A shirt here or there wasn’t enough to make a fuss, he just folded or hung up the shirt depending on how he knew you took care of them and left them in your room for you to put away properly. Sometimes he’d take a moment to smell your detergent mixed with his own that lingered on the fabric, sometimes also palming himself through his pants because your scent had the worst impact on his anatomy, but you always got your clothes back and you were none the wiser as to what he would do with them when they were in his possession. 

This time when dropping off the shirt for some human world band that you often slept in, his eyes caught a couple pieces of fabric that he didn’t often see. A red lacy bra and panties just laying on the floor by your bed. Clearly worn if the way the panties were rolled a bit was any indication, and he can only stare at them while continuing to hold your shirt in his hand. The thoughts running through his mind are impure at best, depraved at their worst and he has to question whether or not he was really thinking about taking the garments for himself. Would you notice? Probably but it was easy enough to blame Asmo for either mistaking them for his own or stealing them for his own horny purposes. It wouldn’t have been the first time, your agreement with Asmo that had been in place since your third week in the house stating that any clothes removed had to make it back to you freshly washed or replaced within a week with no questions asked, so this would be easily played off as either yet another laundry mishap or Asmo just being Asmo. 

But instead he closes the door to your bedroom, making sure it was locked with an extra protective ward on it for good measure, then picks up the two garments. The flimsy fabric likely looked delectable on your figure, and he could only imagine what you might have gotten into wearing a set like this. Did you put them on for someone else, or did you just feel better wearing something like that under your school uniform? If it was for another demon he’d need to know who exactly it was to make sure the little human under his care wasn’t in any danger, if it was one of his brothers he’d have to put an end to that activity immediately. You were here as an exchange student to learn, not seduce the rulers of the Devildom.  

At least that’s what he told himself as he holds your intimate apparel to his nose. You used wonderful soaps and perfumes, always smelled delectable, but smelling your natural sweet musk on your clothes was intoxicating. A natural aphrodisiac that had his pants tightening and aching for relief, a relief he can’t stop himself from seeking despite being where he certainly shouldn’t have been.

Lucifer didn’t like you, but you were the constant trigger to any lapse in self control he experienced.  He was stroking his cock with your panties shoved so far into his face that he’d likely be smelling you for days. It was your name he was whispering in the fabric, your hand he was fantasizing about having in place of his own, your panties he was peeling from his face to wrap around his painfully hard cock. If only he’d selected any other candidate, this wouldn’t be happening. He’d be much more collected, less frustrated all the time, would likely have time to relax, and - most importantly - wouldn’t be standing in a bedroom that wasn’t his masturbating into the used underwear of the human exchange student living in his house. 

The one he certainly didn’t like at all. 

“Fuck,” he hisses into the empty room, feeling the first drag of the lace along his length. He wanted this to be slow and easy, something to savor since he’s sure he’ll never get the opportunity to do this again. This tear in his carefully constructed veil of self-control would be mended and never put at risk again. He hoped that even long after these were washed, whoever had the pleasure of seeing you in these lacy panties could smell him on them and know that backing off would be in their best interest. 

If you were here he’d want you in front of him, on your knees and just watching him pleasure himself with your underwear. You wouldn’t be allowed to touch him, but he knows that you wouldn’t be put off by that. If anything, it would probably make you feel more powerful to know that he was so caught up in whatever these feelings were that just having you touch him would be too much. Nothing he could say would deter you from that path, and he’d be equally as powerless to stop you when you eventually decided to take over. You wouldn’t grip him tightly, just firm enough that he felt the lace dig into his skin but not too much that it hurt to feel the fabric drag along his sensitive skin. A pace that wasn’t torturously slow, but not so fast that he’d be led to believe you wanted him out of your room. It was probably you wouldn’t - he’d seen the way you’d look at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention, the gentle touches that he got before you remembered where you were and told him to get away from you. 

“Oh, Lucifer,” you’d coo, eyes locked on his own as your other hand would move to cup his sac, carefully kneading to deliver that additional stimulation that had his jaw clenching, eyes shutting tight as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. “You can cum for me. I won’t tell anyone you didn’t last long. Just give it to me already.”

When his eyes open he’s still in your room, but you’re not there in front of him. Just himself and his softening cock in his hand held loosely in red lace. The once bright fabric has darkened with the dampness of his spend, and he frowns at the fact that he’d ruined these for himself - your scent was likely overpowered by his, and that just wouldn’t do. But he finds a suitable replacement - a black pair of your lacy panties from your hamper to keep with him until they lose your scent. He’d toss them in with your laundry next time you did yours, and it’d be like he’d never borrowed them to begin with. He would just try his best not to cum in those ones until he was ready to return them.

He’s only a little unnerved by the way you look at him across the dinner table that evening. Like you knew something you shouldn’t, but he’d get to the bottom of that later since he’s confident that it had nothing to do with his personal time that afternoon.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Michael Tomasky at The New Republic:

I’ve had a lot of conversations since Tuesday revolving around the question of why Donald Trump won. The economy and inflation. Kamala Harris didn’t do this or that. Sexism and racism. The border. That trans-inmate ad that ran a jillion times. And so on. These conversations have usually proceeded along lines where people ask incredulously how a majority of voters could have believed this or that. Weren’t they bothered that Trump is a convicted felon? An adjudicated rapist? Didn’t his invocation of violence against Liz Cheney, or 50 other examples of his disgusting imprecations, obviously disqualify him? And couldn’t they see that Harris, whatever her shortcomings, was a fundamentally smart, honest, well-meaning person who would show basic respect for the Constitution and wouldn’t do anything weird as president?

The answer is obviously no—not enough people were able to see any of those things. At which point people throw up their hands and say, “I give up.” But this line of analysis requires that we ask one more question. And it’s the crucial one: Why didn’t a majority of voters see these things? And understanding the answer to that question is how we start to dig out of this tragic mess.

The answer is the right-wing media. Today, the right-wing media—Fox News (and the entire News Corp.), Newsmax, One America News Network, the Sinclair network of radio and TV stations and newspapers, iHeart Media (formerly Clear Channel), the Bott Radio Network (Christian radio), Elon Musk’s X, the huge podcasts like Joe Rogan’s, and much more—sets the news agenda in this country. And they fed their audiences a diet of slanted and distorted information that made it possible for Trump to win. Let me say that again, in case it got lost: Today, the right-wing media sets the news agenda in this country. Not The New York Times. Not The Washington Post (which bent over backwards to exert no influence when Jeff Bezos pulled the paper’s Harris endorsement). Not CBS, NBC, and ABC. The agenda is set by all the outlets I listed in the above paragraph. Even the mighty New York Times follows in its wake, aping the tone they set disturbingly often. If you read me regularly, you know that I’ve written this before, but I’m going to keep writing it until people—specifically, rich liberals, who are the only people in the world who have the power to do something about this state of affairs—take some action.

[...]

This is the year in which it became obvious that the right-wing media has more power than the mainstream media. It’s not just that it’s bigger. It’s that it speaks with one voice, and that voice says Democrats and liberals are treasonous elitists who hate you, and Republicans and conservatives love God and country and are your last line of defense against your son coming home from school your daughter. And that is why Donald Trump won. Indeed, the right-wing media is why he exists in our political lives in the first place. Don’t believe me? Try this thought experiment. Imagine Trump coming down that escalator in 2015 with no right-wing media; no Fox News; an agenda still set, and mores still established, by staid old CBS News, the House of Murrow, and The New York Times.

That atmosphere would have denied an outrageous figure like Trump the oxygen he needed to survive and flourish. He just would not have been taken seriously at all. In that world, ruled by a traditional mainstream media, Trump would have been seen by Republicans as a liability, and they would have done what they failed to do in real life—banded together to marginalize him. But the existence of Fox changed everything. Fox hosted the early debates, which Trump won not with intelligence, but outrageousness. He tapped into the grievance culture Fox had nursed among conservatives for years. He had (most of the time) Rupert Murdoch’s personal blessing. In 2015-16, Fox made Trump possible. [...]

The fake story about Haitian residents of Springfield, Ohio eating cats and dogs, for example, started with a Facebook post citing second- and third-hand sources, Gertz told me; it then “circulated on X and was picked up by all the major right-wing influencers.” Only then did Vance, a very online dude, notice it and decide to run with it. And then Trump said it himself at the debate. But it started in the right-wing media. Likewise with the post-debate ABC “whistleblower” claims, which Gertz wrote about at the time. This was the story that ABC, which hosted the only presidential debate this election, fed Team Harris the questions in advance. This started, Gertz wrote, as a “wildly flimsy internet rumor launched by a random pro-Trump X poster.” Soon enough, the right-wing media was all over it.

Maybe that one didn’t make a huge difference (although who knows?), but this one, I believe, absolutely did: the idea that Harris and Joe Biden swiped emergency aid away from the victims of Hurricane Helene (in mostly Southern, red states) and gave it all to undocumented migrants. It did not start with Trump or his campaign or Vance or the Republican National Committee or Lindsey Graham. It started on Fox. Only then did the others pick it up. And it was key, since this was a moment when Harris’s momentum in the polling averages began to flag.

[...]

To much of America, by the way, this is not understood as one side’s view of things. It’s simply “the news.” This is what people—white people, chiefly—watch in about two-thirds of the country. I trust that you’ve seen in your travels, as I have in mine, that in red or even some purple parts of the country, when you walk into a hotel lobby or a hospital waiting room or even a bar, where the TVs ought to be offering us some peace and just showing ESPN, at least one television is tuned to Fox. That’s reach, and that’s power. And then people get in their cars to drive home and listen to an iHeart, right-wing talk radio station. And then they get home and watch their local news and it’s owned by Sinclair, and it, too, has a clear right-wing slant. And then they pick up their local paper, if it still exists, and the oped page features Cal Thomas and Ben Shapiro. Liberals, rich and otherwise, live in a bubble where they never see this stuff. I would beg them to see it. Watch some Fox. Listen to some Christian radio. Experience the news that millions of Americans are getting on a daily basis. You’ll pretty quickly come to understand what I’m saying here.

[...] The reason? The right-wing media. And it’s only growing and growing. And I haven’t even gotten to social media and Tik Tok and the other platforms from which far more people are getting their news these days. The right is way ahead on those fronts too. Liberals must wake up and understand this and do something about it before it’s too late, which it almost is.

Michael Tomasky of TNR explains it perfectly: Donald Trump won due to the right-wing media apparatus feeding lies to the voters.

[ladykailitha]

Sweet Home Indiana

You guys are getting an absolute feast this week. Two chapters on regular posting days, the twenty snippets you got on WIP Wednesday, this, and of course more Across a Crowded Room tomorrow.

Enjoy!

Based off a post I saw on here (and didn't save for some reason) about the legal tangles gay people had to go through when gay marriage was federally legalized because a lot of them married different people in different states because their marriage in California wasn't legal in the other states and just never bother to get a divorce.

And my brain let's Steddify this shit Sweet Home Alabama style!

So here we go:

Eddie and Steve got married in Boston when Massachusetts made gay marriage legal. But they broke up when Eddie went to California with his band.

Cue Eddie going around and having a couple of really short marriages in different states. Tommy in New York for three months when the band was in New York recording an album. Billy in Hawaii for two weeks while Eddie was there on vacation.

Neither of them really mattered or were serious. Because they were only legal in the state they were performed in so Eddie didn't think anything about it.

Fast forward to a decade later, gay marriage is legalized across the country. Corroded Coffin has broken up and Eddie has a job as a tattoo artist.

Eddie goes to get a marriage license in Seattle where he's been living for the past five years. And is denied on the account he's a polygamist. He's still married to three different men in three different states.

Fuck.

His fiancee Chrissy is a legal assistant at a law firm so she has her bosses draw up annulments for Eddie's three marriages and has them sent out to all three of Eddie's exes.

Including Steve.

When Steve gets his papers, he's pissed. He hunts down Eddie's number and calls. Tells him that he can do the proper thing and tell him to his face he wants a divorce. None of this annulment bullshit like their relationship didn't matter. But until then he can fuck off.

Now Eddie's frantic. Because the reason why he and Chrissy were getting married in the first place is that her student visa ended in May and her work visa has been delayed three times. They have to get married otherwise she'll be deported. And no just a little across the border to Canada either, she's from Barbados.

He tells her the truth about Steve and how they were actually married for almost two years before Eddie left. They had been living in their home town of Hawkins where their marriage wasn't legal any way, but meant something to them.

Chrissy is upset he didn't tell her this sooner, because yeah, that's whole other kettle of fish. So she has her bosses draft a divorce decree and words it a whole lot nicer than the legalese of the annulment.

Eddie packs his bags heads to back to Hawkins and back to Steve. He has one week to convince Steve to sign the divorce papers.

He gets into to town and finds that Steve is the proud owner of the best bakery in town. And the best selling item is the chunky mint brownies Steve made just for Eddie when they first got together. Eddie gets a little sentimental about it, and Steve stubbornly refuses to sign the papers.

They go back and forth for a few days. They tumble into bed and Eddie wakes up, he finds Steve gone and the papers signed.

Only now that Steve has signed them, he doesn't want that anymore. So he breaks down crying and sobbing. He calls Chrissy and now Chrissy is as distraught as he is.

After they hang up Chrissy calls the bakery and Robin answers. Chrissy really needs to speak to Steve.

Robin tells her Steve can't come to the phone because he is covered in flour and can't because he'll get it messy. Chrissy asks if she calls his cell phone if Robin could hold it up to his ear, because she really needs to talk to him. But Robin refuses to budge. She banned Steve from having a cell phone around their giant stand mixer because he has lost three of them to the beast.

Robin offers to pass long the message, though. And Chrissy has to be content with that. She explains who she is and why Eddie needed the divorce. She tells Robin about Eddie's breakdown that morning and how he really didn't want to divorce Steve.

Robin and her get to talking about their best friends, missed connections and themselves.

While the girls are talking Eddie is having another freak out because he put the envelope containing the divorce papers in the mail box but realized he forgot to sign them himself. He needs to get them back so he can sign them, but he's afraid of getting arrested for tampering a federal post box trying to get the papers back.

He's near hysterics when Nancy finds him. She's in town visiting her family. And she helps him get the papers back by talking to the post office and they open the box and he gets them back.

She takes him to lunch to calm his clearly frazzled nerves. He tells her everything. And she tells him that while Eddie was in New York, Steve had gone to see him and when he saw how much bigger and better the big city was, Steve decided if he was going to win Eddie back, he had to make something of himself. And thus began the bakery. He almost had enough to fly to Seattle and woo Eddie. But then this happened.

Now Eddie is really stricken. He wants Steve so bad, but Chrissy is out of options.

Nancy gives his arm a squeeze and Eddie heads back to the hotel he'd been staying at.

He finally looks at his phone and sees a lot of messages and texts from Chrissy begging him not mail the divorce papers yet, she has a plan. Cue Eddie having a final breakdown in his hotel room, sobbing and wrung out.

There is a knock on his door and Eddie is confused the only person who knew his hotel and room number was Chrissy and she's in Seattle. But he gets up to answer and suddenly has an armful of Steve Harrington. Who is also a sobbing wreck.

After both of them calm down, Steve tells him he only signed the papers because he wanted Eddie to be happy. And if that meant being divorced from him, he'd do it.

But Eddie's isn't happy. He's sad and hurt and lonely. Steve is too.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, placing their trust in their best friends.

The next morning they are woken up by Robin and surprise surprise, Chrissy.

They explained that since gay marriage is legal everywhere now, Robin is going to marry Chrissy. And she'll swap places with Eddie. She'll go back to Seattle with Chrissy and Eddie can stay here with Steve.

It's perfect.

They get a marriage license and walked down the courthouse where Eddie and Steve are their witnesses. While the judge is talking, Steve pulls out Eddie's old ring. The one he returned to Steve when he moved out to be with his band.

He slips it back on Eddie's ring finger where it belongs. They kiss at the same time Chrissy and Robin do.

A couple years later Chrissy becomes a lawyer and her and Robin move back to Hawkins where Eddie has opened his own tattoo parlor, right next to Steve's bakery.

And they all live happily ever after.

ETA: Full Story here.

Permanent Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @counting-dollars-counting-stars

[child0feden]

DAD AU TIMELINE

well… here is the rough timeline and some kind of terrible moodboards! again, the kids names are used here but i will never use them in my works just in case you guys do not like them! of course this is not all of the dads but if you guys like this i could make a part two! had to use a white border on the øystein one because i hit the picture limit… arghhh! also i ended up giving bård another baby hehe <3

CALLIOPE AND CASPER OHLIN

♡ calliope ohlin was your first child and she was born when you guys were 21!

୨୧ pelle was still in mayhem but after your sudden and unexpected pregnancy, he got much better at controlling his self harm and knew he wanted to be here to meet your child, wanted to be here to meet his child, he knew he needed to be here to support you and knew that maybe, this was a new leaf to turn even if he was so deeply afraid! he stayed in mayhem but did move out of shared band house after the news of your pregnancy and the two of you moved into a small, cozy little one bedroom apartment, it served well enough housing, at least until the baby got older and needed her own room…

♡ casper ohlin was your second child and he was born when you guys were 25!

୨୧ pelle and you planned to have your second child, as previously mentioned in moon in the mist! he knew he wanted to his little girl to have siblings just as he had, knew he wanted her to have a lifelong friend, someone who she could protect and someone who would look up to her! but pelle also knew that he was not about to purposely bring another child into this world when the two of you were still living in the one bedroom apartment so you waited until the two of you had a little house with two sizeable bedrooms, purchased outright with saved up funds from mayhem record sales and the help of his parents who were more than happy to help out, especially if it meant getting more grandchildren…

dad! pelle who makes traditional swedish cinnamon rolls for you and his children!

he makes them whenever he feels like it, not just for special occasions or anything like that! he never found himself to be a great cook, the only recipe he could ever remember was cinnamon rolls, it was the only thing he could really supply you with when you were pregnant and craving something so warm, sweet and sickly in the middle of the dark, cold nights! now, he bakes them for the babies too! well, when they’re old enough anyways… he gets more confident in his baking skills when he sees your children stuffing their faces with the sweet treats, watching with a small smile as your daughter holds her sticky hand up to offer him half of the baked good, sulking and putting on her best puppy eyes when he tries to refuse a bite since he still struggles just a little with eating… but who is he to deny your daughter? you and your children truly are the only people who have ever made him comfortable in things, made him comfortable and genuinely happy in his life…

SELENE AND SYLVI EITHUN

♡ selene eithun was your first child and she was born when you guys were 18!

୨୧ bård definitely did not plan on having children this young and neither did you! it was an entirely unexpected pregnancy that likely came from unprotected drunk sex after a concert, a birth control mishap or even a condom split! though just because it was an unexpected pregnancy does not mean it was unwanted, especially when it came to bård! well, of course he was slightly terrified and panicked when you first showed him the positive pregnancy test, of course he was worried about how young the two of you were and how his only real income was any emperor sales and the government pay he got but he was extremely quick to come around to the idea of having a baby, of having his own child with you! his fears were almost entirely swallowed up by excitement as he wondered who your baby would look more like, what they would sound like, what their first word would be and all of that…

♡ sylvi eithun was your second child and she was born when you guys were 32!

୨୧ bård knew he wanted one more child with you, at the very least! if we go down the route of him ending up imprisoned just months after selene was born, he just hated how much he missed out on with his first little girl… hated how he missed her first steps and her first word, hated how every time you brought her to visit him she seemed to have grown so much within just weeks… he knew having another baby would not just evaporate all of his regret, his want to have a second child was not just a selfish need to experience all of these things he missed out on by his own fault but he just knew it would be nice to be able to experience it, he remembered how much he loved caring for you during your first pregnancy, thought back on how much your small shared apartment felt like a family home in the days after you brought selene home from the hospital! bård knew he was not just going to forget selene and shove her aside for his second baby after he got out of prison and you fell pregnant again, she would always be his first baby, the first person aside from you who ever made him feel so full of love! the excitement he once again felt rising in himself when you presented a positive pregnancy test to him in your shared bedroom of your new house just days after he was released from prison was oh so familiar, so consistent with the excitement he felt when you were pregnant with selene all those years ago…

dad! bård who buys his six year old daughter, sylvi, so many toffee apples for halloween and freaks out a little when her first baby tooth falls out due to getting stuck in the sticky toffee!

of course, he knows that baby teeth are supposed to come out, he knows they are bound to come out! he remembers all those times when he was in prison and selene would visit with you, proudly showing off the tiny gaps and telling him all about how much money she had managed to score from the tooth fairy, he remembered how you would throw a smirk and a playful eye roll his way when she mentioned the tooth fairy! but he had never experienced it before as a parent, he had never seen it happen first hand… he was so spooked when he heard slyvi let out a whimper and go completely quiet from her once loud rambles around a mouthful of apple, quickly darting his eyes to where she sits on the couch and feeling panic rise in his chest when he sees her holding a small hand to her mouth, sees some slight red on her skin, his mind just shoots to the worst possible scenario as he rushes over to her and crouches down to be eye to eye… it’s only when he looks down at the sweet apple still grasped in her free hand that he sees the tiny white tooth lodged in the golden toffee, only when he sees that is when he begins to calm his mind and realise that it is certainly not as serious as it seems, letting out a relieved sigh as he asks her to move her hand so that he can see her mouth, speaking in such a soft and warm tone as to keep her calm, already seeing some salty water building in her wide eyes, threatening to spill over! only when she hears her fathers soft voice asking to see her mouth is when she’ll move her hand down, allowing him to coo quietly and assure her that everything is okay as he checks over her mouth, seeing the gap now in place between her baby teeth before he stands up from his crouches position and sits beside her on the couch, pulling her onto his lap and pressing a kiss to her head as he explains to her what happened, telling her all about how she’s growing up now… how another tooth will begin to come in and fill the empty space! his small smile slowly grows as he watches the tears in her eyes disappear, as he watches her own small smile spread across her face at the thought of being a big girl now! when you and selene arrive home from shopping and spot them on the couch, bård is quick to explain what happened to you whilst letting you take sylvi from his arms, checking her over quickly for yourself whilst he talks to selene about what she got from shopping…

TOPAZ, TARA AND SEREN SKJELLUM

♡ topaz skjellum was your first child and she was born when you guys were 20!

୨୧ ted really just always wanted children with you and all of your children were very much planned, yes even at the young age of twenty! he just loved the idea of a domestic life with you, the idea of having children with you and loving them, raising them… ted knew you were the one and that he wanted children with you within just over a year of dating! he knew you would make a beyond perfect mother, knew that you were the mother he wanted for his children! he was very much open about his desire for children with you and would casually bring it up to you before bed or over dinner and when you agreed? telling him that you would love nothing more than to have a baby with him… especially since you guys were already living in a house, a sizeable little home buried deep in the thick norwegian woods! not to mention that money was not a huge problem at all? he was ecstatic and wanted to get right to baby making, despite being quite young, he was just so… beyond excited at the thought of having a baby with you, of watching your baby grow up and explore the world around her…

♡ tara skjellum was your second child and she was born when you guys were 21!

୨୧ ted just absolutely adored life with you and topaz, adored how maternal you were, how beautiful you looked cradling your baby, his baby and just one short month after giving birth to topaz, you were pregnant once again with tara and the two of you could not have been happier that she would be growing up right alongside her sister, so close in age…

♡ seren skjellum was your third child and she was born when you guys were 32!

୨୧ ted was beyond happy with just topaz and tara for a long time, he was content with the two of them and you but when he got older, as he watched his first two babies grow up and slowly spread their wings… he knew he wanted just one last baby, knew he wanted to experience all of those baby things once more and knew that now was almost the perfect time since the two of you had moved into a slightly bigger house and darkthrone sales were doing amazing… when he approached you with the idea of having one last baby, you could only ever agree, you knew how much he loved being a father, how much he loved raising his babies and teaching them about the world! since your first two girls were so close in age, topaz never really got a chance to be an older older sister but now, both her and tara would get the experience of being older sisters, of getting to have a baby sister to play with and dress up, to protect and love…

dad! ted who had a christmas baby with you!

it was seren, your last born baby together… she was born in the early, early hours of christmas morning with snow slowly fluttering down from the sky and gently tapping against the thick glass of the hospital windows, she was the best christmas gift both you and ted could ever, ever ask for… the most beautiful christmas gift you would ever, ever receive and the most treasured christmas gift you would ever, ever have in your lives! christmas days after she was born become so much more special to the two of you, with her birthday being on the same exact day, ted takes the chance to spoil her rotten with double the gifts! of course he knows that spoiling your children is not good for them which is why he does not do it all the time, only when they really deserve it or for special occasions like birthdays and christmas, only then does he spoil them with everything they could ever ask for… ted just absolutely loves cuddling up on the couch with you on christmas morning, your children sitting comfortably on the rug in front of the fireplace as it steadily crackles and pops, the flames warming you as your children constantly look up at you and ted, excitedly showing off what they got…

ALVA AND AUDRA AARSETH

♡ alva and audra aarseth are identical twin girls and they were born when you guys were 23!

୨୧ euronymous honestly kind of really wanted kids with you! i mean, i don’t believe your twin girls were totally planned but i feel like he secretly really wondered what a domestic life with you would be like whilst still being in mayhem, still being involved in the black metal scene… he had common, reoccurring dreams about teaching his child to play the guitar, teaching them all about his favourite bands and his favourite movies! but he would never admit this to you and would keep his act of just kind of disliking children up all the way until you fell pregnant! only after you tell him that you’re pregnant is when he will soften a whole lot at the mention of children, at the mention of how far along you are and when it turned out to be twins? he was certainly terrified, beyond terrified but again, he kept up an act of confidence and actually often bragged about it, bragged about how he basically knocked you up twice in one! his smug attitude is so strong around your shred friends but when the two of you are just relaxing in your shared apartment, cuddled up on the couch watching a movie, he is a lot less smug and much more soft with his hand gently stroking your rounded stomach and talking to his babies, trying overly hard to get them to kick at the sound of his voice! the two of you were already living together in a pretty sizeable apartment in oslo but he did end up selling helvete around a month into your pregnancy, realising how much the rent was truly costing him and how little he was getting in return! he knew he had a more important priority now, he knew he wanted that money to go towards his babies…

dad! euronymous who stops dying his hair after his babies are born!

because his girls came out looking like his twins, they were born with his natural blonde hair! at first, he just kind of did not have time to re-dye his hair black between caring for you after you had just given birth and between looking after your newborn babies! he was just too tired and too strung out with all of his newfound duties as a father, too busy getting used to this new chapter of his life, he just did not have the time to even think about buying and using more black hair dye when his blonde starting coming through… when he eventually does have the spare time to think about it, to see how his hair has almost completely reverted back to the natural blonde colour, you manage to talk him out of dyeing it again by showing him how much his little girls look like him with their blonde hair, showing him how he so obviously looks like their father and that is enough to sway him away from the black hair dye! seeing how much his twin girls look like him just makes him so full of love, so full of pride and happiness… not to mention some more smug attitude as he shoves it in your face, shoves their resemblance to him all in your face, lovingly…

[ax-y10]

Step Aside

In which- Wilburs excited to see the Front Bottoms play, but you aren't so thrilled to be crowded in.

A/n: I'm pretty sure I recall the front bottoms playing at shaky knees and I got a real quick idea.

Chapter info: slight panic attack, crowded place, swearing, unnoticed anxiety (brief)

Pronouns: None (You/Yours)

Masterlist:

---

Wilbur didn't notice your increasing nervousness of being in a crowded area, to excited to see the Front Bottoms playing live, jumping around with his bandmates. You were previously squished up against his side, but now you had your phone out ready to text him telling him you were going to the bathroom.

He didn't realise you were starting to walk off until Joe tapped on his shoulder and pointed towards your distancing figure.

"Will? Bud? Y/n is over there. Go see what's happening for us, yeah?" Joe pointed out.

He looked over and saw you turning a corner, and that's when he started to rush towards you.

"Excuse me, sorry. Please move-" he trailed off, finally reaching your form, stopped when you heard his all-too-familiar short breaths, noted from when he gets scared of worried.

"Darling?" He whispered loud enough to not scare you, but also to not alert other people attending the festival.

You held out your arms on either side so he could wrap his arms around you, and that he did. He held you tight but not too tight, and kissed the back of your head to calm you, feeling your rushing breaths.

"Sweet? Match my breathing for me, please?" He spoke frantically, your breathing becoming more sparse and stuttered.

In, one. Hold, two. Out, three. Hold, four.

Ultimately calming down, you twist in his loose hold and bury your face in his neck, your slow tears falling down his shoulder.

You've never been good with crowded spaces your entire life. People think it's irrational: "How stupid? How are you going to do normal things?" One person stated. "Fucking pussy. Get over yourself," A kid in your school stated. The bullying got worse as you kept speaking about it to your close friends, your so-called trustworthy friends shared the secret. Your family also didn't help. They put you in Summer camps, made you do the shopping each week, made you do many activities that required you to be social, supposedly trying to cure your fear. You somewhat got over your fear, but this festival just broke down that barrier.

You broke away from the hug and went to sit down against a border near the edge of the festival, a few people scattered around but not too many to overwhelm you, him following you like a lost puppy to sit with you.

"Wil, you can go back over to the band. I don't mind. I'll stay here." Bu the denied everything.

"I've let them know I'm over here so I'll stay with you just to make sure you're okay."

You smiled and looked over to Wilbur to watch him jump along and sing along. He doesn't like festivals that much, much like you, but you loved how he was enjoying it so much, and it made you fall harder with each song that passed.

Your favourite song started playing but it didn't register in your head as you were too busy looking at your boyfriend jamming to one of his favourite bands. Once he looked at you and smiled, bobbing his head to the music, a large smile plastered on his face, did you realise it was your favourite song.

You soon got over the almost panic attack, and started enjoying yourself a bit more, however you were still at Wilbur's side listening to the various songs playing.

But everything came to an end eventually and once everyone was collected (after being hunted down by Ash) and back in the van, did you finally sit down and fully relax. You'd changed into warm, over-sized clothes from your boyfriend and laid down next to him in his small bunk, scrolling through your messages, winding down for the night. Little did you know, he was watching your smile appear on your face everytime you read the words "I love you" in a message.

"Are you having a happy session at the moment, Love?" He snapped you out of your thoughts.

"...no" You said mischievously, being incredibly obvious as it was a lie.

He threw his arm across your waist, taking your phone and pushing it under his pillow along with his, and snuggled his face into your shoulder.

"Wil, you can't fall asleep before me," You joked, but he grumbled and pushed his face harder against your shoulder.

"Don't get all pouty, I'm sorry. you can go to sleep."

And you watched him fall asleep, listened to his sleepy noises, and felt him relax into your touch as he got increasingly tired, leading you into a deep sleep.

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

favor

tony stark x f!reader prompt: warmth theme: fluff (tags beneath the cut)

“Hey,” you said lightly, a soft, surprised smile curving your lips as you looked up from your book. Tony was standing in the doorway, cast in shadow by the darkened hallway behind him. His hair was dishevelled and there were sadly-all-too-familiar shadows under his eyes, but he gave you a sweet, affectionate smile that always managed to warm you from the very middle of yourself. “I didn’t expect to see you this early.”

“Shouldn’t you have been in bed an hour ago?”

“Yeah… that isn’t exactly the ‘daddy’ vibe girls usually go for in their older boyfriends.”

Tony snickered, rolling his eyes. “You used to be so innocent.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“No, you didn’t.” he agreed, amused. “I never stood a chance.”

You grinned back up at him, tucking a bookmark between the pages of the novel laying open in your lap. You set it on the coffee table beside you, sighing as you stretched out a kink in your lower back from sitting still for so long. “So, Mr. Stark… are you darkening my doorway at this late hour because you’ve decided you’re coming to bed?”

“Ooh, I love it when you get all formal and dramatic.” he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. “Do it more.”

You rolled your eyes in amusement. “Are you coming to bed or not, Tony?”

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair ruefully. “I think I’m going to be working a little longer, sweetheart.”

“Really?” you frowned. He hadn’t come to bed at all the last two nights, and with you out of the tower all day, you weren’t sure if he’d left the lab much at all. “When was the last time you got some sleep?”

He shrugged a shoulder, and your frown deepened in concern. He recognized your expression and offered you a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, baby.”

“Do me a favor?”

“Always.”

Your lips twitched in a small smile at his readiness, and you shifted in your seat. You were sitting on one of the large, plush sofas bordering the coffee table, your back against the arm of it. You lifted one side of the blanket on your lap invitingly. “Take a break. Just an hour. Please.”

Tony looked as though he was going to deny you for a moment before he relented, his shoulders relaxing in defeat. “You don’t play fair.”

“No, I don’t.” you agreed, your smile widening as he approached you. Tony climbed onto the couch, and instead of sitting beside you, he stretched out on top of you, his legs tucked between yours and his arms banding around your waist. You chuckled lightly as he settled against your chest, feeling his own chest heave with a sigh. “You really didn’t take a lot of convincing, did you?”

Tony hummed appreciatively as you scratched your fingers softly through his hair and pulled the blanket back over the two of you. “Do I ever when it comes to you?”

“I love you too, Tone.” you murmured as you felt his breathing begin to slow.

tags: @ccbsrms@startrekkingaroundasgard@lina-mar@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13@lol-you-thought@sebbystanlover-vk@mikariell95@csigeoblue@abrunettefangirlnerd@babyblues915@aar-journey@moistpotatobear @capsironunderoos @bellamyblakemorley@diesinspanishbcimhispanic@sentimentalalien@agustdowney@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@patheticallysentimental@loki-is-loved

[feralwritings]

dissonance

part five

4.2k words

She hasn’t noticed the way her breath is coming out, stuttering and shaky, the way her chest is heaving until it brushes against his as he draws closer, and the way that the cold arena has gotten warm until his fingers are tracing around the outside of hers, and there’s an ache to the gesture, an ache in the way he’s slightly trembling, an ache in the way he’s looking at her.   “Tell me you hate me,” He says, and it’s a plea, he’s begging, “Tell me you actually hate me so I can let this go. Please.”

masterpost

taglist: @cam-peggio @mewchiili

see end of post for content warnings.

They leave the glitter of Vegas in the rearview, driving another desert road until a mountain range looms in the distance, and they’re crossing over the border into Utah. September has turned the landscape into a kaleidoscopic display of reds, oranges and yellows, with smatterings of green here and there. The further north they go, heading into Salt Lake City, a picturesque little valley cradled beneath looming mountain peaks welcomes them, and once they’re settled into the hotel downtown, Reader takes a moment to admire the view of the mountains from the balcony attached to the room. 

There’s a chill in the air that wasn’t there in Vegas, and as it blows, lifting her hair gently, she closes her eyes against it, inhaling the scent of fall, loving the way the cold nips affectionately at her nose. 

It's soothing, in a way. She feels overheated more often than not these days, her proximity to Eddie only growing as the bands become more and more comfortable with each other. The wedding seems to have solidified some bonds, each complimentary member of both bands talking about their instruments, Robin and Gareth debating about which drumsticks are the most reliable, Nancy and Joey talking about the world’s greatest bassists, Chrissy and Jeff texting back and forth about which strings yield the best sound.

They intermingle, Steve coming out a bit more, interacting more, sitting in on dinners longer, hats still slung low over his ears, famous hair a little flatter than normal but smile brighter, which is really the only thing that matters to anyone.

It’s her and Eddie that still have that distance. There’s this bridge that they keep passing each other on, and sometimes he tugs at her sleeve and she catches his wrist but they’re pulled apart by some inextricable force, or pushed away by something that lives within each of them. 

These inhibitions disappear with alcohol, as evidenced by the Polaroids from Vegas, so Reader hasn’t touched a drop since, not because she’s scared of him but scared of what she might say, what she might let herself do. 

In a sense, there’s no use denying it anymore; there’s something here. Something is growing between them, but she can’t tell if it’s blooming like a flower or spreading like cancer, but either way, it grows. 

It doesn’t help that now is the time Stacy decides to crop back up, demanding to know why she was not consulted about the Melissa Etheridge cover, alluding to the fact that Eddie coming on stage for her and Reader not going on stage for his band is not what was agreed upon, and yelled down the phone for fifteen minutes when Reader pointed out that, hey, we still performed together, isn’t that what you wanted? 

Part of her doesn’t know why she’s hanging on so tight to UDR. Daisy Chain worked their ass off to be signed and this is what it got them here, on arena stages, playing their hearts out to crowds that are there for Steve, but have moved past tolerating them to actually liking them, aided in part by Reader singing with Eddie, so…credit where credit is due, she guesses. 

It still doesn’t make it any easier. When they sing together, he looks at her in that way that makes her legs go weak, the way he looked at her during the wedding, the way he looked at her at the club the night after. 

She doesn’t know how much of it he remembers. There are pieces of it missing from her memory, but she knows that they crossed into something that night, going from tolerating each other to actually enjoying each other's company, so much so that she knows that there were so many ways that night could’ve ended. 

The shows go well enough, a double rather than a single, both nights she’s paraded out onto Corroded Coffin’s stage, to make them shine a little brighter then leave, or at least that's how it feels for the second show, when Eddie keeps his distance, letting the rhythm section of the song fall away in favor of grasping the hands of the people at the barricade. It’s not like she even needs his attention, but quelling underneath his stare had become something she was getting used to, and the absence of it felt cold.

Maybe they’re moving away from active disdain to amicable indifference, which, in Reader’s mind, is the best course of action. There’s so much of the tour left, so many ways this could go, and the unknown of it all is making Reader’s stomach twist.

And then there’s everyone else. Chrissy keeps stealing furtive glances at her, opening her mouth like there’s something on the tip of her tongue, but before she says anything she seems to think better of it and either doesn’t say anything at all, or says something completely random. Nancy and Robin are in the throes of newlywed bliss, but even the shift in the dynamic hasn’t escaped their notice, and on the journey between Vegas and Salt Lake, and in the few days before the shows, Reader had walked in on them furtively whispering more than once, only to break away from each other the moment they realized Reader was watching.

It’s maddening, everyone seems to know something she doesn’t, and the memories of Vegas are hazy but not blank, and she feels like if anything did happen, even if her mind didn’t remember her body certainly would.

Eventually, she can’t take it anymore, so she leaves the bus, trudging into the arena under the guise of having forgotten something on the stage, and leaves the whispers, the looks, and the questions behind. 

***

When an arena isn’t streaming with lights, and when people aren’t pressed close together in the crowd, it can be a very chilling, haunting place. 

Each step she takes onto the stage echoes, and as she meanders about the equipment, packing up things, performing for an audience of exactly no one, another pair of quiet footsteps joins her own. 

She turns, a bundle of cables in one hand and a roll of gaffers tape in the other. 

“Hey,” Eddie exhales, hands in his back pockets, shoulders ratcheted up almost to his ears. He screams tense, with every step he takes, every time he runs a not entirely steady hand through his mess of curls. 

“Hi,” she says back, her tone just as clipped and nervous as his is, “How did you know I was here?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t. Just needed some quiet.”

The fact that they chose the same place for some quiet doesn’t bode too well, in her opinion, and she turns away to squeeze her eyes shut, puffing out her cheeks to let out an inaudible, yet shaky breath and bends to drop the cables into the rolling case.

“Listen,” He says, rather suddenly, and he sounds a lot closer than he was, and when she turns, he is, and she has to crane her neck back a little to look into his face, “About Vegas-”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” She cuts him off immediately, a small huff escaping from her lips as she speaks. She doesn’t know what exactly it is, what he’s referring to, and she watches as his face falls for a half a second before coming resolute again.

“I want to talk about it, though,” He says, taking half a step forward, she takes half a step back, the small of her back bumping against the case, “Listen to me, for just a second, okay?”

She simply stares, giving a small jerk of her shoulder to indicate that she is listening, but keeps her mouth shut, biting down on the inside of her cheek to counteract the way her heart has started thundering in her chest.

“There’s something going on here.” He states, factually, and she feels heat rise in her face, “I don’t know whether it's good or bad, all I know is that it’s something and this tour is going to be miserable if we keep ignoring it.”

That’s the word. Misery.

She huffs out a wry laugh, letting her chin dip onto her chest, speaking to the floor rather than to him, “You’re assuming I’m not already fucking miserable.”

“What?” 

She looks up at him, hating the confused look on his face, eyes wide and dark like a baby deer, the picture of innocence that she knows he doesn’t possess.

“I hate this tour. I hate being on this tour. I hate being told to play nice with you. I hate that our career, our band’s reputation seems to be contingent on whether or not I feel like being paraded out onto your stage like a prized cow to sing with a bunch of dudes who thought the best use of my mouth was to have some executive’s dick shoved into it.”

He takes all this on the chin, wincing only near the end.

“You don’t have to come on stage with us anymore, if that’s what you want.” He says, quick and cool.

“I don’t have a choice.”

His eyebrows draw together into confusion, “What do you mean, you don’t have a choice?”

“I mean, I don’t have a fucking choice. It doesn’t matter what I want. You don’t have Stacy in your ear every fucking day, telling you to-”

She cuts herself off. She doesn’t want to tell him, he doesn’t need to know. She doesn’t want his pity, or his smugness, or any other emotion that he could possibly spare for her. What she wants, what she needs is apathy from him. But he’s there, he’s always there in her peripheral vision, always already looking at her when she risks glancing at him. 

He’s here now, staring at her.

“What is Stacy telling you?” He asks, voice dripping with concern that hits Reader right in the chest, a hot spike of molten anger sticking to her skin. 

“Nothing, just forget it,” She mumbles out, making to turn away from him and walk away, but he doesn’t let her. 

A gentle hand closes over her wrist, and despite her feet telling her to run, to leave, to not let this go any farther, they’re glued to the stage by some invisible force. 

“Hey,” Eddie says, infinitely soft, softer than she wants, softer than she deserves, “What’s going on?”

He’s crowding her against the rolling case now, tall and wiry, muscle here and there, his arms, his shoulders. She tilts her head back to look into his face, stiff with concern, eyebrows drawn together, dark brown eyes soft and wanting. 

He looks at her like that a lot, she’s noticed. 

But there’s no way he can know. He can’t know what hangs in the balance, and he can’t know because he’s proven that he wants to help. And she’s resolved fully to the fact that after this tour ends, she never has to see him again. 

She tells herself, time and again, that it’s because she doesn’t want to. 

She knows, deep down, like looking into a dark room where something terrifying lurks, that she wants to give in. 

She hasn’t noticed the way her breath is coming out, stuttering and shaky, the way her chest is heaving until it brushes against his as he draws closer, and the way that the cold arena has gotten warm until his fingers are tracing around the outside of hers, and there’s an ache to the gesture, an ache in the way he’s slightly trembling, an ache in the way he’s looking at her.  

“Tell me you hate me,” He says, and it’s a plea, he’s begging, “Tell me you actually hate me so I can let this go. Please.”

His eyes aren’t on hers, they’ve settled on her lips, like he needs to see the words fall from them. 

The thing is - she can’t. She can’t tell him that she hates him because ultimately, she doesn’t. Sure, he’s annoying and cocky, but there’s this undercurrent to all of it, the teasing, the jokes, being a pest. He wants her attention. He pokes and prods and pigtail pulls, always toeing the line, just so he can get her to look at him, to acknowledge him, to spare him a modicum of time. 

And she knows, deep down, that she could’ve put a stop to this if she really wanted to. He cares enough about her, maybe even respects her a little bit that if she genuinely wanted him to leave her the fuck alone, all she would have to do is say the word. 

But she’s never said it. 

It's a bit sick how much she enjoys it. The constant back and forth. The concealed smiles. 

But, she can’t. She fucking can’t - there’s still so much of the tour left, and with everything on her plate she simply cannot add this onto it, she’ll be crushed under the pressure of it all.

So, she ducks underneath his arm and begins resolutely marching across the stage, but the farther she gets, the slower she gets, and she’s twenty feet away from him when she slows to a stop. 

They’re two opposing magnets. Only one of them has to turn around for them to crash into one another. 

So, she turns. 

He’s not looking at her. His head is tilted back towards the ceiling, and she swears she sees a shine in his eyes when he spares a final glance her way, eyes growing wide when she’s suddenly back in his space, pulling him down for a bruising kiss. 

His reaction is immediate, arms snapping around her waist to bring her closer, moaning into her mouth when she swipes her tongue against his bottom lip. There is no care for finesse, for delicacy as he licks the inside of her teeth, pulling her impossibly closer until she’s on tiptoe, feet barely brushing the floor as he winds himself around her, one hand braced at the back of her neck as the other settles in the crook of her knee as she wraps her leg around his hip to try and gain some semblance of balance.

Eventually, he gives up on trying to meet her in the middle entirely, one hand slamming the lid of the rolling case shut as he lifts her onto it, hands flying to unbutton her flannel. Their hands meet in the middle and he shoves it off her shoulders, breaking from her lips to bite at the junction between her shoulder and neck, bra strap slipping down her arm.

She moans at the feel of his teeth, hands sliding into his hair as he bends to nip at the flesh of her breast, tongue dancing along the cup of her bra before she reaches between them, yanking the cups down and away from her breasts, and Eddie’s mouth waters at the sight of her nipples, pebbled against her soft skin, breasts bouncing slightly from the impact of the movement. She returns this move in kind, nails biting into the fabric of his t-shirt before she’s ripping it over his head, digging her fingers into his shoulders when he leans towards her again.

He cups her tits as he kisses her, ring clad fingers pulling and tugging harshly on her buds, and judging by the noises she makes, the way her hips cant up towards him, she’s deeply enjoying herself, throwing her head back with a groan, panting into the stagnant air of the arena.

She’s devilish, though, which Eddie really should have known, as she tugs him closer by his belt loops, her hand pressing down against his bulge, palming roughly at the denim. 

He can feel her grin when he stutters out a moan against her lips, her other hand joining its counterpart as she tugs his belt free, unbuttoning his pants and yanking at the fly, before delving her hand in past the waistband of his underwear to wrap around his cock.

He’s so hard it almost hurts, and when she squeezes on the upstroke, running the pad of her thumb over the weeping head, he whines into her neck, retaliating with a nip to her pulse, his hands scrambling for purchase on her back and at the base of her neck, hips moving in time with her strokes.

“So needy,” she coos, seizing his chin in her hand, squeezing a little so his lips are squished together, leaning in to kiss him so sweetly, before catching his bottom lip between her teeth and pulling. 

She’s got him so worked up that he briefly forgets he wants to fuck her, but when he remembers, he clamps his hands around her hips and yanks her forward, so her ass is at the very edge of the case. The force of the motion pulls her hands away from him and she plants them behind her on it to steady herself. 

“Fuck-“ he growls out, working open the button of her jeans, and she lifts her hips up so he can yank them down her thighs. She’s almost entirely naked now, save for her shoes, which he bends to tear off so he can get her jeans all the way off of her legs. Her socks are disgustingly cute, little dinosaurs racing around her ankles, and he feels an all too familiar pull of affection as he smooths his hands up her thighs, slipping one between them, rubbing up and down her folds. 

She pulls him in for another bruising kiss by the back of his neck, all tongue and teeth and sloppy, one hand still supporting her as she teeters off the edge of the case. She’s attempting to use her feet to get his pants down, socked toes slipping into his waistband and pressing down, but this move unbalances her completely, and she slips with a shout then a laugh as he catches her, forearms braced under her knees to keep her from falling. 

“You okay?” He asks, and she nods feverishly, slipping herself out of his grasp and putting her feet on the ground. 

He isn’t quite prepared for what she does next. 

She turns around, planting her hands, palms flat on the top of the case. She looks over her shoulder, smirking at his shocked expression. 

“Aren’t you going to do anything?” She asks, somewhat condescending and somewhat sincere, and he’s broken out of his reverie, scanning the flexing muscles of her back, the plumpness of her ass, and finally, the puffy folds of her cunt visible between her legs. 

“God,” he teases, slotting himself behind her as he shoves his pants down, getting them just past his knees, “You’re so fucking bossy.”

“Mmm,” she hums, pressing her ass back against him, “Someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“Is that what you’ve been doing?” He drawls, taking himself in hand and lining himself up with the slick channel of her cunt, kicking her legs a little wider when he can’t quite fit.

Before she can answer, he’s sinking into her, and the noise she makes is forever going to be implanted in his brain.

He rests his forehead between her shoulder blades as they both adjust, panting. 

She is so fucking wet, her cunt so needy that there’s barely any resistance as he bottoms out, and he stays there, enveloped in blissful, wet warmth for a few moments, before she whines, high pitched and petulant. 

“Oh, my God,” she huffs, and she intentionally clenches around him, “Fucking move, Eddie.”

Her tone stirs him on, and beneath the white hot pleasure and the need, he feels competitive again.

“Where,” he smacks the meat of her ass, the resulting crack echoing around the arena, along with a hiss from her, “exactly, are your manners?” 

He doesn’t see it when she smiles, as she makes her expression carefully challenging as she looks over her shoulder at him, eyes lidded in a faux expression of boredom, and she actually starts to stretch her jaw in an exaggerated yawn before he pulls almost all the way out, snapping his hips back into her with a growl. 

She squeals, the impact forcing her forward a couple inches, the palms of her hands squeaking along the hard plastic before she recovers, fucking her hips back against him just as hard as he’s fucking into her.

There’s the squishy sounds of her pussy, the smack smack smack of their skin against each other, and a consonant chorus of desperate noises falling from each set of lips, and if Eddie wasn’t so focused on the feel of her in his hands, around him, against him, he’d recognize that they’re damn near harmonizing, musicality never leaving them even in the throes of sex. 

There’s a sheen of sweat clinging to her back, and as he bends to mouth hungrily along her shoulder, he presses her into the case, nipples brushing against the plastic with each sway of her breasts, metal edging biting into the skin of her tummy, the added stimulation seems to send her closer to the brink of orgasm, as her moans become increasingly desperate, and she begins clenching around him at regular intervals. 

Eddie, for his part, has been trying not to come since the moment he started fucking her. He’s quite literally dreamt of this moment for weeks on end at this point, and through his imaginings of a thousand different scenarios, he had never quite realized that it would feel this good. What had started out as open disdain for one another had melted into mutual teasing (accompanied by an embarrassingly sappy crush, at least on Eddie’s part), to whatever this was now. 

Whatever it was, he wanted it. More precisely, he wanted her however he could get her, whatever that may end up being. It’ll suck if they never touch one another again, if when they’re done here, now, in this too-bright conference room her face falls into lines of regret, with a quick murmur of we can’t do this again, at least he’ll have this memory and his right hand to keep him company. 

“Oh my god,” she half-sobs, half-laughs, pressing her cheek against the flat top of the case, the coolness of the plastic no doubt soothing her heated skin, her eyes rolling shut, all fluttering lashes and a blissful, lazy sorta smile on her lips. 

“Yeah?” Eddie manages, one hand snaking up her back to her head, brushing strands of hair out of her face, the other still firmly grasping her hip, “Is it good?”

“Doin’ so good,” she babbles, planting her palms and using them to lift herself up, turning her head to kiss him, “Such a good boy.” 

And holy fuck if that doesn’t make him almost lose it entirely. Somewhat panicked, he slips his hand between her thighs, rubbing at her clit desperately. She keens, her fingers digging into his forearm as she holds his hand there. 

In no time, she’s coming, squeezing him like a vice into her, and he tries to help it, he really does, but soon enough she feels the warmth bloom inside her, and she moans in what he hopes is encouragement, arm bending somewhat awkwardly to cradle the back of his head as he practically sobs into the side of her neck. 

“It’s okay,” she coos, almost instantly, and if he didn’t white out a bit from the strength of his orgasm he would’ve replied, but he just pants into her shoulder.

They’re both trembling. Her thighs are shaking and he’s sorta shaking all over, and she moves forward a bit, tenderly reaching and pulling him out before she’s turning around, in all her naked, sweaty glory to look into his face. 

“You okay?” She asks, brushing a lock of sweaty hair out of his face. 

He nods, shakily, chest heaving as he cups her face to pull her into a kiss. She accepts it, languidly moving her mouth against his. 

When they pull away, he lets out a little shaky sigh, “That was…intense. Are you okay?”

She nods, smiling softly, pulling her flannel back onto her shoulders, buttoning it, “A little shaky from the exertion, but otherwise I’m okay.”

They get dressed after that, spending five entire minutes looking for her left shoe before finding it on in the third row of seats. She sits on the stage, pulling her knee up to lace it up when Eddie walks up to do it for her.

She watches him tenderly, resting her cheek on her knee as he double knots the laces. He looks up, catching her eye. She gives him a small smile, and he smiles right back before straightening up. 

“You sure you’re good?” He asks, straightening the collar of her shirt as she looks up at him. 

She nods, “I’m sure.”

It’s a little more than awkward. It’d been such a passionate encounter, full of pent up feelings and desperation, after a month of a somewhat hostile dynamic (that, they were both too chicken shit to admit that they enjoyed), and here they were, not quite together, not quite apart, too shy to talk about it. Maybe a bit confused, too, unable to make sense of the chatter in their minds, to identify how they truly feel, just yet. 

“Kay,” he nods, starting back up the rows and rows of seats. 

He looks over at her one more time, “I guess I’ll see you later?”

She nods, picking at a thread on her jeans, “Yeah, see ya.”

And with that, he takes his leave.

***

cw: spanking, biting, nipple play, p in v, no protection.

[nokk0]

(A very young Aijo comes over to the blog)

Uh... I've heard that you're name's F... Fal right?

Do you like Birds? I'm trying to get research on Robins

When Aijo asked, Fal seemed elated

(alert: Nerd Fal mode activated, long post :/)

“Birds are wonderful animals, they may not be Fal's favorite animal, but they are definitely wonderful, pon! Nobody can deny that, pon! Robins?? Pon! The robin thrush, scientific name Turdus migratorius, also known as the American blackbird, spring blackbird, robin, American robin, migratory thrush, red-breasted thrush, robin thrush or royal thrush, is a species of passerine bird in the thrush family. She is adorable and charming, pon! A little bird with a chubby build, especially in winter, when it fluffs its feathers to generate a layer of warm interior air, pon! Males and females are identical in coloration, pon! In its plumage, the wide orange spot that extends across the face, throat and chest stands out, which appears bordered by an irregular and subtle gray band... In winter it is very common in almost any environment, including parks and gardens; but in spring it breeds preferably in cool places, pon. The European robin usually moves along the ground in search of insects. To sing, it perches on the high branches of trees, either in winter or during the breeding season, pon. It is very aggressive, both with specimens of the same species and with the rest of the birds, not only during the breeding season, but also during wintering, pon. In this last period, couples separate and defend individual territories, pon! Isn't that great, pon? It is a wonderful specimen with character despite only having a wingspan of 20-22 cm and a length of 14-16.5 cm..."

Snow listened to everything with a pleasant smile. He remembered the last time he heard Fal speak with so much emotion...

...

“Dark Cutie? How do you know her name?” Uluru asked

“Because she's a famous Knight" Snow White replied

“You've never seen the anime Cutie Healer, pon? Dark Cutie is the rival that appears in Cutie Healer Galaxy, pon. She was an exception among villains, one who was never defeated or reformed, pon. Even after the series ended, she has appeared many times in the annual festival and in the Cutie Healer films that all the Cutie Healers participate in. Even seeing her as a fan of good magical girls, the way she is such a committed villain that she never ends up being the comic relief, not even in the movies, always remaining distant and continuing her joust to make Cutie Healer and the others suffer, will really make you say "Ohhh, pon". Many fans still talk about her final battle with Cutie Altair, and Cutie Vega on Mars saying that..."

“Fal" Snow White scolded. “You're making a little noise..."

“Ah, sorry, pon.”

"... Fal is surprised that you didn't hear of her before; it is a known fact that the characters that appear in anime are based on real people, pon. Having an character based on yourself is the greatest honor, and many strive to achieve it..."

“Hey, Fal? If this is going to be long, don't do it, okay?”

“Oh, sorry, pon.”

@kirbyoctournament

[whencyclopedia]

Bayan I

Bayan I (reigned 562/565-602 CE) was a king of the Avars, a confederation of heterogeneous people who migrated from the region of Mongolia, north of China, in 552 CE and came in contact with the Eastern Roman Empire c. 557 CE. Bayan I is considered the greatest king of the Avars for his military and political skills. He not only protected his people from the Gokturks, who pursued them from Mongolia after the fall of the Rouran Empire (known as the Rouran Khaganate) in the east, but he led them in a series of successful campaigns to defeat the Gepids of Pannonia, outwitted the Lombard king, Alboin, for control of the land, and challenged the supremacy of the Eastern Roman Empire. He founded the Avar Empire in the region of Pannonia, establishing his capital at the same spot that Attila the Hun had claimed as his own, and expanded that empire to encompass territory far beyond the original borders of the Pannonia they had first arrived in. After Bayan I's death in 602 CE, the Avar Empire began to decline until it was finally conquered by the Franks in 796 CE, and the Avars ceased to exist as a distinct cultural and political entity.

Bayan I & the Eastern Empire

Bayan I first enters history with the migration of the Avars to the region of the Pontic Grass Steppe (an area corresponding to modern-day Ukraine, Russia, Kazakhstan) from Central Asia after the fall of the Rouran Empire. They were pursued by their enemies the Gokturks, who had toppled the supremacy of the Rourans in Mongolia and, as refugees, they were seeking a secure homeland they could settle and then defend. The historian Erik Hildinger describes Bayan's initial rise to power following the Avar's migration: "Shortly thereafter, in 565, Bayan ascended the Avar throne as Kaghan, or Great Khan. The Avars were the first to use this term, which would persist thereafter among the steppe peoples. Bayan was the greatest of their leaders" (76).

The historian H.H. Howorth states how "The Avars were at this time led by a chief whom, if we knew more of, we should probably compare with Attila and Genghis Khan. His name was Bayan" (732). Bayan I is the first recorded king of the Avars and, like Attila, was the leader who unified and empowered his people. He raised the Avars from a band of refugees fleeing their oppressor to the dominant people of the region of Pannonia.

Regarding the origin of the Avars and their flight to the west, historian Peter Heather writes:

, and arrived on the outskirts of Europe as political refugees, announcing themselves with an embassy that appeared at Justinian's court in 558. (401)

Although, as Heather claims, "we know more about than about the Huns", we know considerably less about Bayan I than Attila. After leading his people to the west, he almost immediately made contact with the emperor of the Byzantine Empire. Justinian I (482-565 CE) agreed to hire them to fight against other tribes in the region as mercenaries and sent them on their way. The Avars ruthlessly massacred the enemies of Justinian I and expected that their relationship with the empire would continue but, should it not, tried to find a region they could settle in.

Although they were now employed by the powerful Byzantine Empire, they still needed their own homeland where they could feel secure from the pursuing Turks. Bayan I tried to lead his people south of the Danube River but was prevented by the Romans. He then led the Avars north but encountered resistance from the Franks under their king Sigebert I. They continued as nomads in the service of Rome until the death of Justinian in 565 CE. His successor, Justin II (c. 520-578 CE), canceled their contract and, when the Avar embassy asked for permission to cross the southern Danube, it was denied. They again sought to break through to the north but were repelled by Sigebert's army. Bayan I then turned his attention to Pannonia or, according to other sources, was invited to go there by Justin II to displace the Gepids.

Continue reading...

[tamurilofrivendell]

With My Life | Elrond x Reader

one shot using this prompt

read on ao3

pairing: Elrond x Reader

summary: you think Elrond doesn’t trust you to fight despite your skill but it turns out the real reason he is loath to let you is a little different. 

You had lived in Rivendell for a fairly long time by this point, coming here seeking safety and solace. You had been travelling alone for a long time, facing many hardships and even dangers on the road, but Imladris had been good to you. The Lord of Rivendell had taken you in without a question, as he always did with weary travellers, those seeking a safe place to rest their heads. You had not planned to stay quite as long as you actually had but the valley had become something of a home to you, just as the Lord of it had become someone you were proud to call a friend.

However, it was not all a wonderful dream. Darkness had been creeping back into the world and, as war approached and skirmishes broke out all over, you were forced to pick up your trusty sword once more, going out on border patrols with the others. You wouldn’t feel right sitting pretty in Rivendell while everybody else risked themselves defending this refuge from the forces of Mordor. You were happy to help and happy to have an excuse to leave Rivendell for a time, something you had grown to enjoy over your time here. You had always had a bit of a habit of leaving the safety of the Halls and crossing the river or exploring the surrounding wilderness. You had always had a wanderers heart and exploring had simply become a part of you after all these years.

Trouble was, with the world becoming more dangerous, you found yourself getting into more scrapes and problems than before. You were almost eaten by a couple of trolls. A warg stalked your scent and chased you all the way to the river. A stray band of orcs waylaid you in the woods, which you got away from with minor injuries - this one got you in the most trouble with Elrond, though he didn’t say a word. The way he looked at you while he tended to your wounds was enough.

As time passed and things continued to only become more and more dangerous, you found yourself in a situation you had not been in before.

Elrond started to say no to you.

It began with a wave of his hand, telling you there were enough numbers in a partcular patrol to deal with the issue they were facing. It continued with an angry look the likes of which he hadn’t given you before when you tried to press the situation and force your way back into the midst of things. Elrond only continued to outright deny you, eventually going so far as to completely remove your weapon from your possession as you slept.

When you woke and realised it was missing, you were furious, and you had finally had enough. What had changed between the two of you, you did not know, but you had reached your limit. Try as you might, you could not seem to stop disappointing him and you were desperate to know what you had done to upset him, to change the way he viewed and treated you.

“Don’t you trust me?” You cried out in frustration, bursting into his room as he was readying to leave with his patrol to hunt yet another band of orcs that had dared to come too close to the border for comfort.

Elrond turned to look at you, brows furrowed with confusion as he wondered how you could even ask such a question. How you could even think such a thing. He realised that things had not been the same as they had been but he could no longer allow you to waltz around in the wild beyond Rivendell, where anything could happen to you, where things had already happened. You were reckless with yourself and it frightened him, especially that last time when the orcs had gotten too close and hurt you - you were seriously lucky that it was not more serious and he had spent all that night unable to rest due to his anxiety over what might happen the next time.

The next time, you may not be so lucky.

How had he allowed these thoughts to enter your mind? How had he not seen it? He had been trying to keep you safe and in doing so he realised that he had pushed you away and made you feel like he did not value you. “I trust you with my life.” He said emphatically, covering the distance between you both in two long strides. Elrond reached out to take hold of your hands gently in his own, looking you directly in the eyes with a tenderness he had been hiding from you for the past few months. “I’m not so sure I trust you with yours.”

You blinked back at him as you allowed his words to sink in. He was quiet, patient, as your mind worked over the meaning behind what he had said. His thumbs brushed softly across the skin of your hands, sending a light shiver through you. Your gaze softened slightly as you looked back at him and he smiled. His smile began to fade away when you pulled your hands from his but returned when your arms moved to circle his neck, pulling him into a hug. His own arms moved around your waist as he returned the gesture and the two of you stayed that way for a few moments, content in this moment to at least be on the same page once more.

[johnwickb1tsch]

Okay so- random ramble of the day 2.0 that I thought of after a particular conversation I had with @treedaddymcpuffpuff in the comments.

Trigger warning! (It's bordering n0n-c0n, if you're uncomfortable with that, please feel free to skip this)

So what if- John actually does snap first, and it ends up being particularly nasty. (to be honest if either him or the reader do snap at the other at some point, it's going to be wild either way so 😂)

Let's say he caught the reader trying to escape, or maybe her playing with his emotions / emotionally manipulating him, - pulling out the 'i belong to you' card to gain his trust for an example - or maybe they just had an incredibly shitty argument that was prompted by the ever building tension between them, by neither of them willing to compromise much. (elastic band reference says hello again 😂😂)

Now, generally speaking, both John and the reader have shown clear signs of enjoyment when it comes to the more.. dubious kind of consent, and even though John was the one to trigger most of those occasions, I feel like someone with the reader's strong personality and self-respect would've had a much different reaction to it if she wasn't into it.. That being said, so far every time the reader disobeyed him / refused to give in, John ended up leaving us alone, and I think he'd be lying to us and himself if he were to say that it's to torture us even further.. Sure, having yet another denied orgasm added to the list is shitty, and yes, he had tried to isolate us in order to punish us when we tried escaping the first time, (probably not the last time though) but it's becoming ever so slightly clear that he is doing this more for his own sanity's sake, rather than ours, so he doesn't flip out and snap at us.

That being said, his punishments, although cruel, were still much more on the lenient side... But I can't help but think that with the already high pressure on both of them, and an additional problem source might just be enough for him to lose his shit, and thus, punish us, hence where the extremes come in, such as completely tying us up, - he already said he dabbled in shibari, and he's definitely still into it imo, "misspent youth" or not - perhaps gagging us if we get too bratty, giving the reader a good spanking, perhaps some degrading, and most importantly being the selfish bastard we know he can be occasionally, meaning this whole thing will be to.. comfort him? Reassure him? Bring him that sense of security back to know that he is in control, something that we've seen him go to extreme lengths for in all 4 movies..

And considering that we didn't really establish any boundaries yet, seemed to be into it sort of, and even the fact that John might very well lose pretty much all sense of rationality, and go absolutely fucking ham on us, to the point of our lust turning into actual terror.. In which case, a safe word should be used, buuuuuuut- 1) We don't have one yet. And 2) John will probably have us immobile, silenced, face down, ass up, sobbing for him anyways, so in that crazed state of mind, he might not actually realize that he's hurting us, (emotionally I mean. I think he'd be pretty aware of the physical pain 😂) until it's just a little.. a teeeeennnsyyyy tiiiiiinnssyyy little bit toooooo late..

AND MY GOD- Does that open up endless possibilities for us. On one hand, he would definitely be overstepping any and all boundaries, even if we haven't quite established them yet. Could this be the triggering event for the reader to start thinking with her brain instead of her heart and pussy, and actively suppress her urges, her feelings, the love she feels for him despite it all, and perhaps plan her escape?

On the other hand, I feel like John would feel an unbelievable amount of guilt, because despite his previous punishments, and everything he's been doing being morally wrong, he has never quite breached the line of becoming a monster, (in our eyes at least) not to mention that he is very morally grey, so while he may be rational enough to realize how unethical things are and just ignore it, - or have the fear of losing us overpower his sense of justice - (nobody is there to hold him responsible either ey) I know for a fact that he would never want us to doubt his love for us for a second. He wants us to feel cherished, loved, safe, and protected, and while he knows we do not see things that way yet, I feel like he would instantly realize just how much he fucked up.

A part of me feels like his first instinct would be to run away (as per usual), put some distance between us both because he doesn't want to hurt us any further, and because he god damn will be actively self-loathing, self-hating, self-blaming himself for the events.. But I also 100% believe that him seeing the reader teary eyed, spooked out of her mind and clearly hurting would again, overpower his sense of rationality, and just make him wanna comfort us. Physically, verbally, emotionally- Any way he can really. Which again, opens up a plethora of options for us, because he would definitely be a lot more inconsiderate of what may aid us in our escape, and what we could just find simply comforting.

Would it fucking wreck me emotionally if the reader ended up using this to guilt trip him into slipping up and allowing her to escape? Absolutely. Would it be justified? Also abso-fucking-lutely, although god forbid it were to happen because GODS it would be like an avalanche of emotions...

So yes.. Angst. And smut. Thank you @treedaddymcpuffpuff and @johnwickb1tsch for fucking wrecking all of us emotionally 😂(Jk jk, i fucking love you both, you evil geniuses.)

Haha, so word spreads fast that I can't handle noncon. 😬 I literally write a series of books about a vigilante bounty hunter who hunts down vampires who hurt women, so this should not have been a surprise to me. I guess I'm a weenie. Is there such a thing as gray romance, LOL? it might be more my speed.

I'm honestly not sure how to answer this one without spoiling the story I'm trying to tell, so I'm just going to leave it here because you raise some very interesting plot points that I'm sure people will love reading! You have QUITE an imagination and such an acute understanding of character motivation!

[metalsongoftheday]

Monday, August 5: Voivod, "Psychic Vacuum"

R.I.P. Denis "Piggy" D'Amour (1959-2005)

Although Dimension Hatröss found Voivod leveling up in almost every respect, the level of discipline they showed on their fourth record also felt like a bit of a retreat from the craziness of their earlier material.  For that matter, “Psychic Vacuum” actually bordered on rock and roll, particularly in Away’s more straightforward drumming and Blacky’s less cantankerous blower bass, while Snake’s sneering was mostly decipherable.  It was mostly Piggy’s proggy thrash riffing that connected the track to Voivod’s origins, ensuring that even if the collective was playing a bit slower and with more structure, there was still something completely distinct going on that prevented anyone from mistaking this for something conventional.  And indeed, slowing down a touch actually accentuated the traits that made the band awesome, showing that these guys knew how to apply different textures to their sound and approach while sounding like nobody else.

[rabbitenn]

i just had a thought that i knew you’d do justice. trigger in a royalty au?? like would it be an arranged marriage? child hood friends? rival kingdoms?? i just think your writing style is perfect for this. it’s up to you if you wanna do headcanons or a paragraph. i just really like how you protray these characters.

remember to rest, eat, hydrate, and take breaks :D

REGALITY.

No crown could burden you and no army could ever dream of keeping you apart from him. In every version of reality, you both know it’s together, til the end.

ft. Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Ryunosuke Tsunashi x gn! reader.

cw/genre: royalty au, romance, fluff, some mild angst. Reader is implied to wear a dress in Gaku’s and Ryu’s.

hello, dear and a thousand thanks for this request ! I love royalty and fantasy aus and you asked it for my favorite group too <3 also, thank you for trusting me with this idea, I hope you will like how I executed it, even though I’m very late to posting it.

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

— Arranged marriage ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Be more selfish. You can show me your emotions and allow yourself to depend on me.”

Tonight, millions of stars accompany you as you make your way through the palace’s halls.

Countless silver pinpricks, filtering in dancing glimmer through the floor to ceiling windows.

And yet, you feel lonely.

The rustle of the gray silken curtains aflutter on the nocturnal ambiance is the only sound breaking the complete silence.

Anyone should be happy on such an occasion as today’s, right?

You got to wear a beautiful dress, everyone smiled and tender vows were exchanged.

Not to mention, your last name now was that of one of the richest lords in town, soon to take over his father’s rule.

Handsome and desired by everyone in the kingdom. And still, something in the sharpness of his gaze makes you keep to yourself.

Yaotome Gaku.

You would have never imagined you’d end up marrying him.

Not that you had any say in the matter, of course. Your family had essentially succeeded in selling you off and increasing their social status.

You let out a sigh, fiddling with the silver band now adorning your ring finger. The moon reflects on it, a cruel reminder of the shackles bestowed upon you.

You take a break, sitting on the stone windowsill.

Your mind wanders off into the night. It would be nice, to be a star. So free, you against an endless sky.

The celestial seems to absorb you, your thoughts leaving the real world if only for a second, a sort of black hole, so far away and so close at the same time, sucking you in when your fingertips graze against the great unknown on the other side.

You don’t notice the footsteps approaching in that instant.

“It is late. You shouldn’t be here.” A deep voice pulls you out of your trance.

You start, eyes widening when they meet steel hued ones.

Against your better judgment, you stand up, taking a step backwards.

Why do you react like this?

There is no denying the man before you looks absolutely stunning.

Is absolutely stunning.

His liquid moonlight gaze seems to pierce through you, tendrils of argent clouds falling over them in the slight curl of his hair. Lost stars kiss his pale complexion, the penumbra of the palace at night embracing the other half.

“Yaotome-sama!” You exclaim, bowing briefly.

A shadow of hurt passes over his handsome features, his eyes, downturned, averted to the side.

“Please, just call me Gaku.” He asks of you, tone bordering on pleading.

“Alright. Gaku…” You trail off nodding.

He seems somewhat… flustered? Maybe it’s the late hour, but his harsh features just fade into something gentle with a tinge of fierceness.

In that moment, you wish you had met under different circumstances, instead of just through political and economical interests.

“[Y/n]…” Your husband begins. You don’t dislike at all the sound of your name when he says it. “I know you didn’t choose this, and I’m sorry we had to meet like this…” His expression softens. “But you can tell me about your worries and thoughts weighing on your mind.” Gaku’s eyes fixate on you, the rest of the universe silent and invisible to him right now. “If I can’t be the lover you dreamt of, I will at least do what I can to make you feel comfortable and safe.” A demure smile reaches his lips. “So, it’s okay if you’re selfish.”

You stare at him a little dumbfounded, the daze of his charming presence and the care he’s putting into his words, rendering your heart into a frenzied dance.

The next time Gaku takes a step in your direction, you don’t retreat.

♡ KUJO TENN

— The bandit and the prince ‧₊˚ ⋅

“Catch me if you can, mister Kujo.”

Giggles leave your throat as you run through the ivy maze.

You try to stifle them, this moment of borrowed time, too precious for its bubble bathed in auroras to pop.

Upwards, the sky dyes in shades of cherry blossom and tangerine, periwinkle clouds giving way to an horizon lined in citrine.

Your breathing grows shallow, as you take a left turn between the shiny verdant leaves.

Behind you, light steps follow.

And despite the dead end standing in front of you in the form of a wall of greenery speckled in the pink of hyacinth blossoms, a smirk plays on your lips.

You stand there, resigning to your inevitable fate, eyes closed, taking in the scent of azaleas, singing of secret nights, passion filled.

The taste of sweet daybreak coats your tongue; a shared interlude of curtains falling over the stage for last night’s dreams, a preamble to the wait for the hours before the dawn to come again.

A gentle aroma of strawberries and cinnamon suddenly dances around you, as if clapping for your heart to spread its butterfly wings to its tune.

“Checkmate.” A cheeky voice whispers, his soft lips brushing the shell of your ear.

Turning around, your lashes flutter open, your prosecutor’s arms already around you.

“Heh, it seems you caught me, your highness.” You tease, leveling him with a bold gaze.

“It wouldn’t be the first time now, would it?” The prince winks, his hold on your waist tightening. “And it’s Tenn to you.” He utters, voice barely above a whisper, as his forehead touches yours.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I know that, just teasing you.” You giggle, your grin widening. “So, you still remember? When you failed to capture me the first time?” Your gaze flits to his lips. “Is that why we’re playing now, so you can finally catch me, Tenn-Tenn?”

Of course he remembers. How could he not recall the moment he met the one who gifts him moments of freedom like this?

—

“And what, may I ask, does a sneaky fox like you happen to be doing in my chambers?”

A curse leaves your lips through gritted teeth. The crown prince was not supposed to come back so soon. Wasn’t he at some gala tonight? Did you miscalculate?

“What? Didn’t expect me to come back so soon?” He chuckles. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.”

What would be your chances of winning in a fight against him? You’ve got your daggers…

You notice the thin sword hanging at his hip from the corner of your eye.

You could potentially have an advantage in close quarters…

It’s not like you want to hurt him, just… maybe knock him out as you take what you need for you to be able to buy a ration of food.

You run for it.

But before you know it, the prince’s sword grazes the side of your neck, the cool metal a threat enough to draw blood at the minimum movement.

Your daggers freeze mid-air, your hood falling, revealing your identity.

You let out a ‘tsk’. This is troublesome.

You lower your weapons.

Tenn retracts his sword.

Rosy eyes scan over the person standing before him. Dark shadows gather under their eyes, as if sleep or food were a rare luxury for them. Their face is gaunt, lips parched. Ragged clothes sway around the thief, several stains coating them.

And yet, the prince doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone as beautiful.

The fire in the burglar’s stare burns intensely, a thundering blaze, tearing down whatever they have to in order to survive.

“And what, pray tell, do you need all of these gold and jewels for?” You spat, tone clipped.

The man lowers his blade, his eyes never once leaving you.

“I don’t.” He states. He reaches up, unclasping one of his earrings.

Extending a gloved hand towards you, he says:

“Take it.”

You scoff.

“I don’t need your pity.”

“It’s not like that. You probably risked a lot just to sneak in here, didn’t you? It would be a waste to leave empty-handed. So take this.” The prince gently removes one of your blades from your tight grip, putting the jewelry in your palm. “Sell it for a good price. Get enough food to last you for a while. Please.”

You seem to hesitate for an instant, but then your fingers close around the accessory.

Without another word, you step into the room’s balcony and disappear into the night.

Tenn follows after the trail of your ripped crimson cape.

By the time he reaches the veranda, there is no trace of you.

That night, he leaves the gallery’s glass doors open.

Just in case you wanted to come back for the blade you left behind.

A few nights later, that’s exactly what you would do.

—

One of Tenn’s hands comes up to cup your jaw, fingertips brushing against the pointy earring dangling from your lobe.

Identical to the one he always wears.

The exact one he gave you that night.

The impending cyan of the morning unfurling above augurs the nearing of your departure.

Neither of you want for your hidden romance painted in soft shades of watercolor to come to a close.

Your prince’s eyes soften, its quartz shade, the fleeting memory of early sunsets over the castle’s gardens.

‘Please, don’t go’ is spelled in the last rays of the crescent dipping behind the distant mountains reflected in Tenn’s gaze.

His thumb brushes over your lower lip, your breath at a standstill as you are put under spell by Tenn’s angelic aura. So warm, so perfect… A safe haven.

You turn around your face slightly, leaving a delicate kiss to his bare palm.

Then, with one last squeeze to Tenn’s hand, you step away.

“Meet me at midnight again.” Your lover whispers, as his hands leave your face.

You decide to relish for a second more in this forbidden moment. You linger closer to him, a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth, before disappearing between frondous greenery.

Tenn stands there, a soft smile on his features as the sensation of your kiss tingles on his skin.

The promise of your return is sealed with the ripple of the pink astilbe petals surrounding the prince.

Dusk can't come soon enough.

♡ TSUNASHI RYONUSKE

— Knight and prince(ss) running away together ‧₊˚ ⋅

“I decided I wanted to enter that light, and at the edge of it, I found you.”

Beams of light threaded in gilded sparkles filtered through the library’s windows. The afternoon was in its prime and yet, you found yourself cooped up inside an empty room.

The rows upon rows of books felt more like the bars of a tightening prison, the book you were copying from, iron shackles tying your feet to the cold grey ground.

You sighed. It was unfair. For your life to be decided like this, just because one day you’re to rule this kingdom.

You didn’t want this. You never asked for the weight of the crown.

The day outside shined in blues and golds and yet, you were trapped here.

You couldn’t stand it anymore. You closed your book, making your way to the huge window.

Standing on your tiptoes, you fumbled with the handle and got it open.

A gust of summer air wafted around you, filling your lungs with all the colors of summer.

You wanted to go play outside like the other children did.

Eight was too young an age to be subjected to the heaviness of endless study days.

Leaning on the windowsill, something caught your eye.

A boy about your age swinging a wooden sword, his body moving with agility as he practised how to avoid enemy strikes.

Maybe he was a knight in training. And right now, you think you’d rather take on a bloody battlefield than spend a minute more learning about centuries old history you couldn’t care less about.

So, using a chair, you climbed up on the windowsill, jumping down the couple of feet separating you from the green grass beyond.

With quiet steps, you approached the boy.

His expression was determined but gentle, his eyes reminiscent of the sunlight you yearned for. Tufts of brown hair swing in the hot air as he gracefully moves with his sword.

Then he stops.

“Y-your highness!” He stammered, bowing down.

Your cheeks heated up, hurt crossing your features in the way you avert your gaze.

“Just [Y/n], please.” You asked. “What are you doing? It seems fun. Can I try too?” You inquired, curiously tilting your head.

He swallowed. “But I will become a knight… I’m supposed to protect you in the future…”

“Please?” You pouted, hands clasped in front of you. “I’m tired of being inside studying…”

With fearful eyes darting from side to side of the courtyard, the boy made sure no onlookers were present.

His hands brushed against yours when he handed you the practise sword.

You held it, it was light, dull, but enough to cut a pocket of freedom in the monotony of your upbringing.

“What’s your name, by the way?” You questioned.

“Ryunouske.” He answered shyly.

With a last smile his way, you began imitating his previous movements, dancing in tune with the doves soaring high in the radiant sky.

Years later, you would know that would be the beginning of your story together.

—

Weaves lap against the sandy coast, early evening bringing with her a sea of aureate copper and indigo. Foamy water gently caresses your feet, your prints in the sand coming and going with each wave.

On the dry sand, a set of armor, a pair of heeled shoes and an intricate dress lie.

Here, it was just you and him.

“Ryu,” You call him, your hand squeezing his calloused one. You stop walking for a moment, indulging yourself a little on the sight of him against the brightness of the soon to set sun.

A smile find its way to your lips, your lover’s toned chest visible through his open shirt.

“Isn’t this nice?” You say, directing your gaze towards the horizon, a few stray seagulls shadowed against the peachy heavens. “Just us, in this magical quiet place… I could get used to it.” You lean your head against his side, as Ryunosuke’s arm loops around your waist.

“It certainly is nice. The sea… it always relaxes me.” The knight tilts his face to look at you. All these years by your side, as your secret companion, your best friend and your lover later on, and nothing would change the fact you’re the most alluring person he could have ever met.

“What would you say, if I suggested we run away, Ryu?” You search for his gaze, those honeyed orbs widening in surprise. “I don’t want to be tied down by stupid rules and traditions, I want to be with you, no matter where.”

Your knight lets out a sigh.

He wants to say ‘yes’. A lifetime of freedom by your side is all Ryu could ever dream off.

And yet…

“Are you sure, my dear?” Both of his hands hold yours in between them. “If we leave… There will be no way we can ever return to your home…”

“This is no home of mine.” You state, steel laced through your tone as you think of that suffocating palace. “My home is with you, Ryu. No matter where life takes us.”

Standing on your tiptoes, you place a soft kiss on his lips. Their salty taste reminds you of freedom. Ryunosuke’s arms wrap around your waist, the silken fabric of your under dress an obstacle for the both of you at this point.

“Alright.” He whispers the moment he parts.

Before the sun completely hides behind the undulating horizon, you’re already making your way to Ryu’s place.

Packing up some food, clothes and essential belongings, you reach the outskirts of town before nightfall.

Hand in hand, you walk towards the sun awaiting in your new life.

[dailycharacteroption]

Gallant (Cavalier Archetype)

(art by MM on Artstation)

While the common assumption with the cavalier class is that they are some sort of knight with a code of honor, that isn’t always the case, plenty simply have a personal code, and may be simply mounted warriors.

That is not the case with today’s entry, though, for these cavaliers, nobility or not, have a deep respect for chivalry and living honorably, and because of that, they demonstrate a canny ability to navigate the courtly intrigues while keeping their honor intact.

More than that, these gallants act as paragons of their order, formal or otherwise, which helps to inspire others to be better, be it fellow nobles in court or soldiers on the battlefield.

Now, whether or not they truly measure up to these expectations and impressions may vary, but unlike some pretenders, they genuinely are making an effort.

While the exact nature of their honor varies by the exact order they follow, there is no denying their adherence, and how it can inspire allies.

These cavaliers must maintain a morality of lawful or neutral good in order to maintain their abilities, and only a few orders truly mesh with their ideals. Namely, these orders include the pacifistic order of the blue rose, the protective order of the guard, the loyal order of the lion, and the chivalrous order of the sword. All are chivalrous in their own way, but focusing on different aspects.

Just as normal cavaliers inspire with their banners, gallants that display their personal symbol ward their allies against fear and effects that would disrupt their honor and loyalty. Furthermore, they inspire them to better take foes alive, empowering their nonlethal blows.

Additionally, they can rally allies to inspire them to stand fast in the face of wickedness, ignoring pain from all but the foulest weapons.

If you’re looking for a more defensive set of buffs to provide with your banner equivalent, this archetype may be for you, though many of the benefits are the same, they grow in power in a way the standard banner does not, which may appeal to you. Also, consider which of the four orders you’d like to take before settling on a build.

I’ve probably said this before, but chivalry has meant a lot of things throughout the years, but my favorite interpretation, and the one I believe that this archetype espouses, is that those with power should strive to be gentle and kind with it, that those with power have a responsibility to not use it selfishly. Taken literally from the name, “those with horses should not use them against those that do not”.

With that in mind, also look into courtly love, since that concept also gels nicely with the themes presented here as well.

Though they ride sharks, dolphins, and the occasional hippocampi, the outriders of the aquatic elves parallel many things seen in human knights and noble courts. In fact, some theorize that humans may have picked up on such courtly and noble behaviors from early elves before the great sundering that gave rise to their many subspecies.

Coming from the far east, a fierce atamahuta oni arrived on the borders of the kingdom and set themselves up as a bandit king. Those sent to negotiate with the fiend have not returned, so the king has ordered one of his bravest and most honorable knights to put together a band of heroes to put and end to the bloodshed and banditry.

Though they are separated by fate, it is an open secret that Ser Angela and Lady Mercei are deeply in love. However, it is courtly love, one defined by pining and secret shows of affection… However, this has attracted the attention of a cruel undead, a lovelorn that enviously seeks to twist their affection, to ruin what it failed to have in life.

[anarchistettin]

At least 60 people have been killed and 145 injured in a brazen attack on Moscow’s Crocus City Hall on Friday night. Here’s what we know so far: • At least five camouflage-clad gunmen with automatic weapons burst into the packed concert hall, where the veteran rock band Picnic was going to perform, shooting into the crowd and setting off explosives. • A fire quickly spread through the concert hall, with smoke filling the building and screaming visitors rushing to emergency exits. As people ran towards emergency exits, “there was a terrible crush” with concertgoers climbing on one another’s heads to get out, one witness told AFP news agency. • ISIL (ISIS) claimed responsibility for the attack on its Telegram channel, saying its gunmen attacked “a large gathering” on Moscow’s outskirts and escaped safely. • Ukraine’s presidency said Kyiv had “nothing to do” with the attack. The Freedom of Russia Legion, a pro-Ukrainian militia responsible for attacks on Russia’s border regions, also denied any role. • Russian authorities said a “terrorist” investigation had been started and President Vladimir Putin was receiving “constant” updates.