#destin sentimental

[clairvoyanceetheree]

🌟 Découvrez Votre Avenir Amoureux : Une Voyance Révélatrice ! 🌟

Êtes-vous curieux de connaître votre avenir amoureux ? La voyance peut être votre alliée pour percer les mystères qui entourent votre destin sentimental. Imaginez pouvoir anticiper les rencontres spéciales, les tournants romantiques, et les défis à venir dans votre vie amoureuse. Grâce à nos experts en voyance, ces réponses sont à portée de main. 📞 +33 01 75 75 44 89 est là pour vous à toute…

[justaz]

arthur (prince of camelot) still has to study under a tutor bc yknow uther wants him to be very intelligent before becoming king or something bc its super important idk idc anyways merlin is doing chores in his chambers while arthur is squinting at a book and merlin eventually caves and asks him what he’s reading and arthur gruffly explains that its a collection of stories from greece that make absolutely no sense so merlin asks him to read them outloud to him. arthur of course teases him and calls him an idiot and asks how he could possibly help but does as he’s asked and reads the stories to merlin as he does his chores. merlin (being crushed under the weight of destiny and tormented by the prophecies that kilgharrah spews) understands the stories almost immediately and gets all excited and starts rambling about them with arthur. arthur is glad to have someone who understands so he can give something that reflects a hint of understanding to his tutor who accepts it and moves onto the next unit of education.

the thing is, arthur finds more stories in camelot’s library and brings them up to his room to read them aloud to merlin under the guise of completing his studies but really he just wants to watch as merlin’s eyes gleam when he understands whats happening and listen to him ramble on and on about them bc he’s gay. the stories stick with merlin though and he realizes that they’re cautionary tales, that the heroes who were told too much of their future doomed themself to fulfill them - that them fighting the prophecies led to their completion. merlin takes it to heart and gives a big “fuck you” to kilgharrah before forging his own fate and helping morgana with her magic and handing out an olive branch to mordred and now everyone can live happily and peacefully in an albion teeming with magic.

[her-penetrating-soul]

Gallavanting throughout the book pages of my adventures📖♥️📖

[orcelito]

I've been working on Finally finishing Naruto Shippuden (after being a Naruto fan for nearly 15 years), & I just finished episode 420. And I have some THOUGHTS about the "Naruto is the reincarnation of Ashura" thing. This started as just me rambling for my normal liveblog posting, but I had a LOT of thoughts about this actually, so I am presenting them to u all Now.

So. Naruto meeting the Sage of Six Paths! Cool!!! I'm finally learning about Naruto being the reincarnation of Ashura, which... honestly is not a choice that I like very much. Narratively speaking, I mean. The Point of Naruto's journey was that he was the underdog, the bottom of his class, the orphan that everyone hated and made fun of. Through hard work and perseverance, he managed to drag himself from being a complete social outcast to someone generally really loved and respected. That's compelling!!! It means a lot!!!

But then the show is like. "Oh...actually, he's the son of the fourth hokage. And Also, he's the reincarnation of the son of the literal creator of ninshuu aka the precursor of modern ninjutsu." I mind him being Minato's son less as a narrative choice (for reasons I will get into shortly), but making him Ashura's reincarnation?? I've got Several things that bug me about that.

So First, for him being Minato's son. It's not like that's ever Actually given him any sort of status (since most people don't know), & Minato was also kind of just a random guy?? Just incredibly skilled, enough so to become the 4th hokage. And then there's also Kushina, descended from a very successful and very Feared clan that ended up almost entirely killed bc of that fear. Naruto being an Uzumaki means great power, huge chakra reserves (not even including the extra chakra he gets from Kurama), & some innate skills (that Naruto mostly didn't inherit, but one can play pretend sometimes). BUT ALSO, they were almost entirely killed off. He's a survivor of his clan's genocide that happened well before he was even born, and he doesn't even REALIZE it yet. So even though being Minato's son means he's the son of a very influential person, it doesn't give him the same leverage as being a Senju or Uchiha would. And the clan he Does belong to bc of Kushina does not give him status either, bc they're almost all fuckin Dead. And we know that Minato is a Namikaze, but as for what that actually *means*.... it's basically nonexistent. There is no mention of a Namikaze clan. Minato was just a prodigy in his own right.

SO.... All that is to say that while appending Naruto's orphan story with a "well, Actually, his parents were very powerful and well respected" does discount it a little bit, it's still not Especially unique in terms of what other people in their world may experience (there are other descendants of current and/or former kage + Many other powerful clans running around) OR in the benefits that it gives him (essentially nothing, outside of his physical strength and the inheritance of Kurama himself)(which inheriting Kurama did grant him access to IMMENSE power, but it also was the source of So Much of his suffering growing up, so I think it balances out).

The "reincarnation of Ashura, son of the Sage of Six Paths" thing tho... that one really kinda does. At that point, Naruto is no longer just the orphaned son of two respected shinobi & the current jinchuuriki of the Kyuubi (something special, but not entirely original, given that there are Other jinchuuriki who are descendants of powerful shinobi). He is now something that NO ONE ELSE ALIVE can be. It is saying that He, above Everyone Else, is special in this way. Outside of Sasuke lol, but I'll touch on that in a moment.

It just feels kinda cheap. It's cool I guess, but at this point it feels like we've completely lost the Plucky Orphan who works hard to overcome his circumstances plot. It's saying that he was Always one of a kind, he was Always destined to become Someone Special (or that he was, in fact, special the whole time). It removes the importance of his hard work in the equation. It makes it so that this is no longer something he earned for himself, but rather something that was a Given, since he is, of course, Ashura's reincarnation.

Cheap. It's cheap. And I don't like it.

Then we get into Sasuke being the reincarnation of Indra. Which I haven't gotten to that yet in the show, but I know from seeing it around. I do enjoy the sun and moon aesthetic between Naruto and Sasuke (so SO much, in fact), but. Making Sasuke the reincarnation of the Other son of the Sage of Six Paths is... frustrating? In several ways. There is of course the fact that Naruto and Sasuke have such extremely gay vibes (and Always Have), so making them the reincarnations of brothers so late in the story feels like an insult to anyone who reads their relationship in that way. Which to be fair, we do see Naruto mention at a few points that he thinks of Sasuke like a brother, but it's only a few points + feels like a kind of narrative cop-out. Sasuke himself said he doesn't think of Naruto in that way (though that could also be his self-denial speaking & it could change. Haven't gotten that far yet.), & I think there are much better choices for Naruto's "brother" figure (primarily Iruka, but people like Killer Bee and any of the other konoha 12 would be fitting too). Personally, it feels like Naruto was trying to put a name to his very strong feelings for Sasuke, & since he doesn't realize being gay is an option (since Kishimoto is clearly homophobic & made this ninja society to reflect that), he settled on Brother. But Sasuke is like "what the fuck? No, my only brother is Itachi." Instead, Sasuke has called Naruto his best friend. Which also doesn't fully encompass their relationship, but it's still closer than Brother.

So here we are, Kishimoto saying around 555 episodes into the plot (only 80 more to go) that they're actually the reincarnations of brothers. And not just any brothers. THE sons of the Sage of Six Paths. Incredibly influential, incredibly powerful, two sides of the same coin and very historically significant figures. Sasuke always had the "descended from an elite, yet disgraced clan" thing going for him, so in my opinion it doesn't hold the same kind of insult to his story that it does for Naruto. But it still feels like an insult to THEIR story.

Naruto and Sasuke were just two orphan boys. Their moms were best friends, but they didn't know that. They died when they were too young. But Naruto and Sasuke still gravitated towards one another. Understood each other like no one else. And got on each other's nerves like no one else. But that irritation stemmed from their genuine admiration of each other. They wanted to be able to beat each other. They became Rivals. And it was on their own terms. No one else pushed them together. Outside of them ending up on the same team, their entire relationship was fueled by their recognition of one another, Jealousy of one another, and the simple enjoyment of being around one another. They were the ones to decide the importance of their relationship. Sasuke recognizing Naruto as his closest friend & thus thinking he was the one he had to cut off to achieve power, and Naruto recognizing Sasuke as his first peer that acknowledged him, a precious bond he finally made, and thus someone he had to cling to FIERCELY. That was all them.

But here we are. They're a reincarnated set. The sun and the moon, but Officially. One could say soulmates in a way, in a non-romantic kind of context (considering the first iteration was a pair of brothers). While this is cool from a story standpoint, it really takes some significance away from their relationship to me. It makes it less of something they chose for themselves and more of a given. Pretty much just like Naruto being Ashura's reincarnation cheapens his own story, it cheapens their relationship too.

I dont want a story about two boys who were destined to be important to each other!!!! I want a story about two orphans who just happened to become important to one another thru a series of coincidences and personal choices. In that way, their relationship gains greater gravity bc it's born from their own hearts Alone. It's Naruto moving mountains for the sake of this boy he loves, and it's Sasuke finally coming back around bc of the force of Naruto's dedication. It means so much more than the implication that they were always meant to be a pair. So I really don't like this narrative choice.

[downfalldestiny]

.. Alors j'ai abandonné 💔 !.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

The Ink Demonth 2024:

-Tea-

-----

I got distracted by watching a stream in the middle of painting this, so this thing is coming out a... little later than I wanted. Also no quote at the beginning because I'm out of ideas.

'Tea' is a pretty simple prompt so there wasn't much I could do other than something just… simple. I didn't really have a clue who to use for this prompt though, but I ended up going with Emma Lamont from Boris and the Dark Survival. Long time since I last drew her.

Looking at other people's entries, I realized that using Betty would have made more sense and I'm surprised I didn't consider her sooner, but at the end of the day I'm okay with the choice I went with because in the end I'm giving the spotlight to a character I haven't seen people talk about in a long time.

Remember Emma? I wouldn't be surprised if one didn't. Heck, I can't even lie, she's not a character I think about often. I went to look at her tag, and that tag in the last 3 years only had 3 "recent" posts between 2021 and 2023 (except, of course, mine). Plus,her small appearance in BATDS doesn't help much. The last time I touched on her design was 2 years ago, on a sketch of her that I never finished (funnily enough, a sketch I was using for the purpose of redesigning her). I took what I had done (head/face/hair), dusted it off, and just expanded the idea a bit. It's not much, and probably not very accurate for a "1940s English Dance Teacher", but I doubt I'll go back to this design any time soon,and I don't know what else I could add in her design. (maybe earrings, I don't know)

With all that in mind, I don't have a problem with Emma. Kind of indifferent to her at the end of the day, but she has her place in the franchise, one that at the end of the day,it doesn't hurt to pay attention to again. And I find her story kind of funny. Another one being a victim of not being given a proper workspace/office of her own, and forced to create new dance steps in a bathroom. I like to think that she and Jack "I Write Better Lyrics In The Sewers" Fain had some kind of friendship. I've had an animatic idea since 2020 that adapts Jack's audio from BATDS and she was included. I never made it,though.

I kind of doubt we'll hear more of her in the Lone Wolf update. Her existence in the game seems like it was just a way to justify why we're suddenly collecting dance steps inside toilets, and I kind of doubt they'll expand on her beyond that. A shame. But then again, LW hasn't released it yet, and it's promised to add lots of new stuff, so who knows what could happen,I guess.

Somewhat related to the topic(s), what's your opinion on tea? As far as I remember, I've never tried it. And to be honest, I don't think I've ever been curious to try it. Is it good? Is it worth trying? This prompt got me thinking about it. I doubt I'll try it eventually, but I guess it doesn't hurt to ask, right?

[un-suflet-anonim]

Persoana greșită la momentul potrivit și

Persoana potrivită la momentul greșit.

@un-suflet-anonim

[tootyde]

“ Fii profund destins, dar pe deplin conștient. “

: “Vindecarea emoțională” - Osho

[cementcornfield]

He’s not even hiding it 😂 Ain’t no way he was letting Joe and Justin be on trip without him. I do believe he’s there for fashion week so he might not see them ☹️

ohhh i had no idea fashion week was this week! that's def a possibility! (but i'm still holding on to the thought that he's still gonna see his guys no matter what)

[clairvoyanceetheree]

Découvrez Votre Destin avec un Tirage Gratuit Amour 💖

La quête de l’amour véritable peut parfois sembler être un mystère insoluble. Vous vous demandez peut-être ce que l’avenir vous réserve en amour. Ne cherchez plus ! Avec notre tirage gratuit amour, plongez dans les profondeurs de votre cœur et découvrez les secrets que le destin vous réserve. Révélez les Mystères de Votre Avenir Amoureux 💑 Votre cœur palpite-t-il à l’idée de découvrir ce que…

[doreyg]

"You shouldn't vote for Labour, they're red tories!"

I have truly terrible news about what political party are actually in power at the moment.

[her-penetrating-soul]

…🤍 ‿Ill always think about you with a smile. Yet with a sadness and an ache in my oceanic soul. You shall forevermore have a place in my heart of wonders. I shall miss you dearly. For life has shown me that our destinies must part. Yet I will love you till the end of time itself⁀🤍

[g4rchomp]

I bought a plushie for a baby but I love it so much I decided to get one for myself in another color lol

[neverendingford]

.

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Nightmare on Elm Street (1984).

Pairing: Yandere!Capitano x Reader (Genshin)

Word Count: 2.6k.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Somnophilia, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, Fingering, Size Kinks, Arranged Marriage, and Obsessive Behavior. Mild Spoilers for the Natlan Story Quest.

Capitano only ever visits you at night.

Part of it is merely the reality of Harbinger’s schedule. If he’s in Snezhnaya at all, let alone lodging within his own estate, it’s a given that he’ll still be working tirelessly to carry out the Tsaritsa’s will, whether that means training incoming soldiers or busying himself with the paperwork deemed necessary by more bureaucratic types, like Pulcinella and Pantalone. It’s rare for him to return home (if it’s fair call that lifeless, desolate place by such a sentimental name) early enough to speak with you properly, and when he does, you only seem to hurry off to bed all the earlier. He’s not a fool. He knows you aren’t fond of him, that the company of your husband brings you little comfort. There’s no doubt in his mind that you assume yourself to be as ornamental as his manor, as his medals, as every other gift from his archon that he displays and maintains not out of gratitude, but polite obligation. He’s never corrected you. From what he can tell, the thought that he bears no great fondness for you has only ever eased your mind – eliminating such troublesome thoughts as those of a loving husband or happy marriage.

No, you don’t believe he loves you, and as far as he can tell, you’ve been given no reason to love him. Thus, he visits at night.

In plainer words, when you’re not in a state to remember he came to you at all.

You don’t share a bedroom. He has his barracks, attached to his office and furnished with only the barer essentials, and you have your nest – a small bedroom tucked into the tightest corner of the highest floor, just large enough to allow you to hoard all the softened, frivolous things you think you’re collecting behind his back. He’s careful not to brush against the woven tapestries crowding your walls as he crosses the threshold, not to disturb the careful arrangements of heaped blankets and silver trinkets you tend to leave scattered across your floor. He only pauses in front of your vanity – removing first his helmet (which, he notes with an inordinate amount of satisfaction, slots perfectly into the space left between your many combs and perfumes) then his coat, left draped haphazardly over the velvet-cushioned stool. He had the foresight to have the metal of his helmet tinted, to allow silver adornments of his uniform to tarnish beyond the point of reflectivity, but your mirror provides fewer safeguards. His vision catches on his own face and despite his better reasoning, lingers there.

The rot is no better or worse than it was when he first came to Snezhnaya, and yet in the dim light of your bedroom, it always seems a little more progressed. A jagged line of decay connects the corner of his lips to the point just above his ear, discolored flesh contained on either side by thick barriers of frostbite giving way to pure, abyssal void where there should’ve been bone. The skin around the corner of his mouth had gotten the worst of it. Grit teeth catch dull moonlight where his lips pull away and char, red viscera visible where the rot had nearly been allowed to take its toll. He’s thankful, in moments like this, that you keep your distance. Surely, it’s better to think yourself married to a monstrous man than know you were bound to monster merely masquerading as one.

Letting out a shallow breath, he forces himself away from the mirror and toward his true destination, your bedside. It’s with only the upmost care that he brushes away the sheer curtains, that he kneels onto the down-stuffed mattress – careful not to wake you with unnecessary noise or thoughtless movement. He finds you as he often does; slumped against your headboard, your sheets clumsily thrown to the side and the book you must’ve fallen asleep reading still spread open in your lap. It’s a good thing he cares for you more than he appears to. Snezhnayan nights are unforgiving, and without his daily visits, you most likely would’ve frozen to death by now.

Your book is closed and placed on the neared nightstand, your body drawn carefully onto the mattress, where you roll unconsciously onto your side. Your nightgown (your favorite, judging by how often you where despite the vastness of your collection) is long enough to reach your ankles, and yet, your fitful sleep and his disturbance has the skirt pooling at your waist. Your body is no stranger to him, and yet, impatience pricks as the back of his throat as he moves closer, as his fingertips graze over your ankle, then your thigh – so plush in comparison to his hardened, calloused form. It’s only when he reaches your hip that he thinks to remove his gloves. There aren’t many things he’s willing to risk exposure to feel, even fewer he lacks the self-restraint to resist, and yet, he never seems to be capable of that same control when it comes to you.

His hands were, thankfully, spared from the worst of the corruption’s wrath – his skin in-tact save for a small patch of exposed bone near the jut of his left wrist. You stir slightly as he traces aimless patterns into your waist, but your anxiety passes with time, and he waits until you’ve gone still to slip two fingers bellow the hem of your panties, dragging the thin material down just far enough to cup your sex properly. One day, he may grow brazen enough to take more time, to undress you completely and take in your body as a whole, rather than dividing it into such meager bits and pieces, but tonight, he contents himself with the slick heat of your cunt, the raspy breath you let out as he rocks the heel of his palm gently against your clit. It only takes a moment for you to reposition yourself, settling onto your back and parting your legs, making room for him in your bed where your heart remains closed. He knows nothing you could do in such a state would ever be considered intentional, but he spares a small smile as he leans forward, kissing the top of your head to the best of his limited ability. Despite himself, he cherishes the rare moments of faux-mutual intimacy he shares with you. Your mind, of course, would never let you take a walking corpse as a husband, but your body isn’t quite so discerning.

You’re sensitive, dampening quickly under his dutiful touch, and not for the first time, Capitano is reminded of why he grew to love you. He knew you were a delicate thing from the moment you were given to him – a former servant of the Tsaritsa, rewarded for your years at her beck and call with a hasty betrothal to a masked stranger and a sudden dismissal from your post. He’s sure one of the other Harbingers had something to do with it – the Doctor with his cat-like grin and morbid sense of humor, or perhaps Columbina with her warped idea of romance – but he had no reason to refuse, and you were never going to try, even if you’d been sobbing too violently to speak on your wedding day. No, he wouldn’t hear your voice until weeks into your marriage, after you’d begun to settle into your new role. Even then, you’d trembled through every word, your eyes never leaving the floor at your feet.

Your request had been a simple one – to have one of his soldiers help you bury the dead rabbit you’d found in the manor’s gardens that morning, while you were tending to your evergreens. When he mentioned that it would be difficult to bury much of anything this deep into winter, that surely the task would be better off left entirely to his soldiers, you only bowed your head. “I know,” you’d said, wringing the fabric of your skirt. “I… I don’t think they’d treat it with much care, though. I’d rather handle the poor thing myself.”

…

 His first visit to your bedroom would come a little more than a month later. He still fucks his fist to his memory of your expression, from time to time.

Two of his fingers slip into you with ease. Your lips part at the sudden intrusion, a high-pitched mewling sound escaping from somewhere deep in your chest as he curls his digits against your clenching walls. Upon further thought, it must’ve been the Doctor responsible for your engagement – no other Harbinger would have a sense of humor cruel enough to see such a delicate creature paired with such a beast, to know how your thighs would twitch and shake as you struggled to take his fingers and still think it to be a fitting match. He really does try to be gentle with you, but he’s still human, still at the mercy of his vices, and the way your breath hitches as he thrusts a third digit into you is worth more to him than any amount of gold or gems or angels’ song.

His free hand is braced beside your head, his wrist angled to better allow him to fuck knuckle-deep into you, but his eyes remain fixed on your face as your features scrunch and relax in turns, as your lips purse only to fall open for every little, pleasured noise that bubbles up inside of you. The loose collar of your nightgown falls off of your shoulder, and his mouth finds your exposed collarbone, tongue lapping greedily (but harmlessly, he reminds himself, harmlessly) over your chest. It’s strange, how drawn he is to you, but not unexpected. Rot always spreads the fastest when fed with fresh meat.

You arch your back, crying out as his fingers curl inside of you, and his head dips lower – latching onto your nipple and sucking gently, gently, his teeth barely grazing your skin. Your hands knead satin sheets mindlessly, and against his will, his mind drifts to how you’d look if you were ever forced to take something more substantial than his fingers, if you’d paw at his chest the same way as he eased you onto his cock. The thought alone has his digits pumping into you with a reckless sort of haste, his palm grinding sloppily against your clit until you stiffen underneath him, until your pretty cunt spasms and drips around his fingers.

Ultimately, it’s not your climax that wakes you, but his own weakness. You buck against his hand and, with a deep groan, he slips – teeth burrowing into the supple curve of your breast with just a touch more force than he’d ever used, before. His eyes dart back to your face just as yours blearily flutter open, still weighed down by sleep and clouded by exhaustion. In the place of panic, displeasure, you portray only confusion – the corner of your lips quirking downward as you struggle to make sense of the sight in front of you. It’s only as he draws back, carefully removing his hand from the space between your thighs and resuming a more dignified position, that you seem to remember how to speak. “…my lord?”

“It’s only a dream, my love.” He cups your cheek, tilting your head back and pressing another feather-light kiss into your forehead, then your cheek. “Close your eyes and rest.”

Your gaze remains fixed on him for a second longer, but with time and coaxing, you retreat back into yourself, letting your eyes close and your head lull into his hand. With an airy laugh, he lays you down, righting your nightgown and covering you with the sheets and quilts you neglected, when trusted with the task on your own.

It only takes him minutes to don his helmet and slip out of your bedroom and yet, by the time he crosses the threshold, he’s already longing for tomorrow’s visit to come all the sooner.

~

You can count the number of times you’ve sought Capitano out on a single hand. You try to limit how often you speak to him, how many reasons he has to re-think the convince of his marriage to you, but doing dangerous things is sometimes necessary. You hope that, one day, you’ll grow a bit braver and those dangerous things won’t be so hard to do, but that’s not a reality you currently live in and, thus, not a reality worth entertaining, at the moment.

(You also hope that, one day, you won’t consider it dangerous to speak to your own husband, but as you’ve already explained, fantasy is something you rarely had time for. Best not to focus on something so romantically outlandish and devote your attention to crueler truths.)

You find him in his war room of an office, where he almost always resides when he’s home. You can hear him muttering to members of his legion as you approach, but by the time you reach the doorway, they’ve been sent elsewhere – out of earshot. You’d planned to hold your composure, to meet the void where Capitano’s eyes should’ve been, but it’s one thing to plan to be daring and another to try and force yourself into the pit of endless blackness existed beneath his helmet. Ultimately, you settle for keeping your eyes narrowed at your own feet and your shoulders squared as you break the quiet.

“Good morning, my lord. I’m so sorry to bother you, but…” Suddenly, your throat feels dry, your legs unsteady. You risk a quick glance toward him, but regret it in an instant. You wish he wouldn’t wear that helmet, not at home, not around you. You’d heard that his face was no great work of art, that he’d been left scarred by some ancient battle, but it couldn’t have possibly been worse than the blankness he expects you to satiate yourself with, in place of anything more substantial. Many people had scars, but very few thought to hide them underneath such punishing masks.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to go on. “Were you in my bedroom last night?”

His back straightens, and for a moment, you’re able to convince yourself that, if you’d been able to see his expression, he would’ve looked taken aback. “Of course not,” he says, and you take pains to convince yourself that the note of condensation you hear is simply a product of your imagination. “Why do you ask? Did something disturb you?”

You try (and fail) not to recall the distorted fragments that’d been haunting you all morning – all broken, all confused, too ungrounded to be called a memory yet too vivid to be written off entirely as a dream. A sharp pressure in the pit of your stomach, a damp heat dripping down your chest, a man with a scarred face and your husband’s voice laid over you; none of it makes sense, but you can see it in your mind clear as day, feel its realness in the soreness of your chest and the ache between your thighs. Capitano has never shown an interest in, uh, consummating your marriage, and even if he did, you would never think him capable of something like… like that. He’s a Harbinger, a leader, an honorable man – albeit, a very cold one, too. Even if he’s never been particularly kind to you, he isn’t a monster, and you would be ashamed to think of him as one.

“No, no, it was my mistake. I—I think it was just a bad dream.” You force yourself to laugh, falling into a shallow courtesy. Of course. Of course. It’d only been a dream. It was foolish of you to come to him at all. “I’m sorry to waste your time on such a petty matter, my lord.”

His solace comes in the form of a curt nod, a silent dismissal. You take that as a sign to make your escape, retreating before you can say anything else to make yourself seem paranoid and foolish.

Hopefully, tonight will prove to be more restful.