#genuinely I cannot bear this shame

[adorerbati]

I haven't been crying wolf. it's just my cries have gone ignored, thwasrted, slandered, lied on, stalked, and sexually harasssed on and desecrated.

[temiizpalace]

☆┊YOU DREAM OF ME??

SUMMARY: entering the dream world was such a strange feat.. especially seeing yourself in somebody else’s dream.

CHARACTERS: jade leech-centric

GENRE: fluff, crackfic

WARNINGS: you act cringe because jade leech is a cringy guy with wattpad fantasies + BOOK 7 SPOILERS + canon divergence (some dialogue is not exact cause i lowkey forgot, some moments didn’t actually happen, and i shortened it a lil so i don’t have to write too much)

NOTES: while writing this, it turns out someone else had a similar idea so i was hesitant to upload the writing. however, I’ve decided to anyways. that being said, crediting said individual is still in order since they had the idea first.

please check out @.paralleljoys post here (IF ANY ISSUES PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK, TY!)

reader is g/n, reader is yuu

🐬∘˙

you didn’t expect this. nobody expected this, actually.

jade leech, cunning, observant, quiet, and mysterious. he was one to keep his cards close to his chest and play it safely to ensure the best outcomes. and yet, here we are, in said eels dreams. a look inside of his thoughts, how he truly saw people, how he—

“jade you’re so cool! i love love love love loveeee the way your mind works sooooo much!” a voice, sounding similarly to yours, chimed. “fufu, you flatter me, my pearl..”

your jaw dropped, grims jaw dropped, you can hear idia falling out of his seat from behind the screen, jamil’s eyes had never been opened wider, floyd cringed, silver looked away, ortho could barely compute, and sebek had the most genuine disgust written on his face.

was that you? you thought azul and floyd looked stupid, BUT THAT WAS YOU? jamil slapped a hand over grims mouth, preventing the direbeast from cackling his lungs out at the sight of your pathetic image. “MYAHAHA, HENCHMAN YOU LOOK SO STUPI—“ “keep quiet.” jamil mutters, slightly smirking. you could tell he was also containing his laughter, making your face change in hue.

“eww, no way. i knew jade was all lovey dovey with the prefect but i dont wanna watch it. what a sap.” floyd groans, looking at dream you, real you, then at jade. “i dont wanna watch this either! if you guys are embarrassed how do you think i feel?!” you murmur, hiding your face in shame.

“my pearl, open wide.” jade grins, holding a piece of shrimp in his hands. “oh my, jade you sweetheart!” you giggle, opening your mouth so jade can feed you. idia snickers, holding back a laugh. you can practically see his smug expression in your mind. “he has the fantasies of a trashy middle school fanfiction, what comedy gold.”

silver clears his throat, trying to regain the attention of the group in order to free jade from his dream. while everyone with a logical mind held an equally logical discussion, you, floyd, and grim were too focused on the scene before you. “jade, you and shrimpy should just get married.” dream floyd grins, pushing you two together.

“agreed. you both are a match made in heaven!” dream azul says in between sobs, wiping his tears away with one of his tentacles. “why, what a splendid idea! azul, please make arrangements right away. we shall wed at once, my dear.” jade chuckles, holding you close in his arms. “j-jade!? i don’t know what to say..”

“do you not wish to marry me?” he asks, his thumb tracing your chin. his voice was low, yet soothing at the same time. “it’s not like i don’t want to..” dream you mumbles, avoiding his eyes by looking at the ground with a pout. REAL you, on the other hand, can’t bear the sight of it anymore. neither can floyd. or grim.

“let’s continue to overcome hardships and conquer many mountains together.” jade laughs, pulling you all in by the shoulders. as the dream variants of jades loved ones cheer, floyd swims in and swoops down, attacking his brother and his dumbed down dream him.

“I CANNOT STAND IT ANYMORE!” floyd grunts, scowling at his dear brother, who held an expression of shock. “f-floyd? there’s two of you..?!” he stutters, looking at his dream twin and his actual twin. “they’re mirror images of each other! how can you tell them apart!” azul exclaims, wiping his eyes to get a better look.

“who is this? can i hug you and eat you? hehe.”

“i originally thought you weren’t interested in other people, but you have a limited memory. “i dont eat dance and eat shrimps stuck in between rocks.” floyd scoffs, staring at his dumbfounded doppelgänger. “floyd.. doesn’t eat shrimps.. or dance..?” jade ponders, feeling his mind begin to waver.

“jade! im scared!” dream you screams, curling up in the boys arms. your eyebrow twitches, tired of the humiliation you witnessed thanks to jades horrible imagination. following your impulse, you run out with floyd, despite the shouts of your name.

“PREFECT! GET BACK HERE! WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU TRYING TO ACHIEVE?!” sebek shouts, but his voice falls on deaf ears. he made a point though, what were you doing? it’d be much safer to just stay back and watch this play out, so why the hell are you trying to get involved?! “p-pearl?!” jade gasps, eyes wide in disbelief.

“th-there’s also two of you.? what in the seven is going on here?” he swam back slowly, unraveling the scene before him. two brothers, two lovers (well not officially..), and a whole school of students that seem familiar, but unsure as to where.. you could tell jade was beginning to wake up! it’s only a matter of time..

“jade, don’t be fooled. floyd shouldn’t be that ugly bastard, he should be more innocent and cute. and look at [MC], they love you so much they don’t know what to do with themselves! don’t be tricked by that fraud.” azul sneers, pointing at you and floyd, much to your dismay. just taking a glance at floyd was enough to be able to tell he was this close to breaking every bone in dream azul’s body and frankly you don’t blame him.

“i see.. floyd has been very charming to his relatives and my pearl wouldn’t leave my side so quickly,” jade hesitates, glancing at his two brothers. “i should go. they all really need me.” he smiled politely, swimming towards what once looked like his loved ones, now forming into large piles of dark goo. as jade was nearly consumed by the darkness, floyd swims past quickly. you stood on the eels back, landing a hit on dumb dumb floyd, crybaby azul, and cringe wattpad you.

“I DO NOT SOUND LIKE THAT.” you finally yell, catching nearly everyone’s attention. “it’s no use. we have to help out.” jamil sighs, lifting his magic pen. “let’s go!” silver shouts, rushing into the spot where you and floyd had already began your attack. as the fight rages on, the others serving as a distraction for jade, floyd had continued to land hits on the watered down versions of yourselves with ease before they finally shouted for help.

“it hurts! help us, jade!” dream floyd cries. “rescue us, jade!” azul cries. “oww! protect us, jade!” dream you screams, finally catching his attention. “how dare you! you fake. get behind me, i got this.” jade hisses, attacking floyd directly. you felt your balance falter on floyd’s back, slipping before falling near the vents. “prefect!” ortho shouts, rushing over to catch you til you fell into jamil’s arms safely. “it’s not safe, the vents are crumbling due to the fighting. retreat for now!” he directs, running towards a safer location.

“your carelessness nearly got you killed, prefect.” jamil sighs, looking down at you with a concerned yet tired expression. “sorry, i just couldn’t take it anymore!” you groan, crossing your arms angrily. “you can set me down now, jamil.” you pat his arm, breaking him from his daze. “..right.” he mutters, placing you down gently. they began to discuss different ways to wake up jade, before sebek finally settled on just electrocuting them.

“be careful, sebek.” silver reminds him, patting his shoulder before the boy ran out. “pierce the cloudy sky, lightning! living bolt!”

the tweels stop their fighting, electricity trickling all over their body leaving them temporarily paralyzed and passed out. after a few moments, their eyes fluttered open, being met with millions of other stares. “jade!” azul shouts, pushing floyd at the way with a grunt. “thank goodness you’re alive! i could’ve lost my cute subordinate!” he sniffles, causing jades eyebrow to raise. “..cute subordinate?”

“i’ll cry if jade is gone! don’t go anywhere!” dream floyd sighs with a dopey expression. “jade you idiot! you could’ve gotten seriously hurt and id never forgive you!” dream you sobs, rushing over to hold his hand hastily. “hm. that’s strange. the floyd and azul i know would never say something like that.” jade scoffs, looking at the two with disgust.

“huh?” they gasp, staring at him as if he said something crazy. “was sebek’s lightning so powerful, jade is finally starting to awaken?” silver mumbles, raising a finger to his chin. “awaken.. why am i here in the first place..?” jade groans, recollecting his thoughts slowly. “so.. i am a student at night raven college.. on land? agh.”

“my head feels like it’s going to split!” he winces in pain, holding his head as he shouts. all his memories finally began to come back to him, all the moments he had during the year turning the gears in his mind til he was finally back to his senses. “how could i possibly have forgotten something so important?” he huffs, looking back at the doppelgängers behind him.

“floyd would never act so obedient, he’s much more domineering. azul would give orders to others without putting himself in danger as much as possible.” he pauses for a moment, staring at your fake before shaking his head. “[MC] would have never acted so defenseless. what an embarrassing feat. i was acting quite strange.” jade sighs, turning his back towards the trio.

they had all began to complain to jade, asking why he would believe such fake things. dream you broke into tears, curling in floyds arms with a sob. jade would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little jealous, but it’s not the real you so he’ll hold back. a little. they all clung onto jade, begging him to reconsider his decision before he finally spared them a word.

“can you please not touch me? creepy.” with a quick slash, the floyd and azul clones were reduced to goo. jade looked at the fake you, slightly hesitating at your trembling figure. alas, they were spared no expense and fell back into the darkness, crying his name and dragging out each syllable.

“no mercy..” idia stuttered, chewing on his nail. “he was protecting them with his life, only to end them once he realized they were fake.” jamil states, scratching his chin while replaying the scene back in his head. “scary..” idia murmurs. “finally awake, jade?” floyd punches his brothers arm, earning a chuckle. “yes, thank you.”

they share a laugh before hitting each other suddenly, startling each and every one of you. “floyd, you dare have hurt your own brother? i thought my whole body was going to fall apart. have you no mercy on your own blood? how terrible.” jade wiped away a tear, floyd not buying it for a single second.

“jade leech.” his banter was cut short by the sounds of your voice, your stern tone telling that this will not end well for him. “w-why, [MC]! how might i be of service.?” jade smiles, remaining his composure well. “don’t “how might i be of service” me! you have some serious explanation to do once we’re out of this stupid dream.” you scowl, staring him down with an intimidating glare.

jade, seemed unfazed. he was certainly embarrassed, but who is he to let it show? “oh dear, is it quite wrong for one to dream of their mate while asleep?” he shakes his head, catching you off guard. “mate?” everyone collectively questions. “uhm, yeah. do you guys not notice?” floyd scratches the back of his neck as if it were the most obvious thing.

what the hell is he talking about? mate? what.. when? that’s.. it’s not possible. “what are you on about, leech?” you sneer, causing him to grab your hand with a smile. “would you care for me to show you?” he grins teasingly, pulling you in til you rested on his chest. “hey! why you—“

“enough. you two are more than free to discuss this mishap after malleus is defeated. right now, we’ve got bigger problems to focus on.” jamil frowns, separating you two from each other. “..right. im not done with you yet.” you glare at the eel in front of you, much to his amusement. “i look forward to it.”

despite the topic being held for later, you couldn’t help but let jade’s words and fantasies linger in your mind for a moment longer. the statements he had said, the actions he had performed, all of it made you feel.. special.

“he dreams of me?”

A/N: i got lazy at the end whoops. anyways what if i write a jamil one?? double anyways what if jamil and jade love triangl— *gunshots*

im not used to writing long fics for characters by themselves and i think you can tell

date published: 8/22/24

© temiizpalace — do not copy, steal, or put my work into ai. thank you!

[elllisaaa]

I think you'll know who's asking this🤭

But I NEED to know as a headcannon Who in seventeen is the brat or the brat tamer?? Like it's a genuine thought (And a BIG brainrot)

you're so bad for making me think about this honsetly, but let's go

WHO IN SVT IS A BRAT OR A BRAT TAMER :

SEUNGCHEOL is a brat tamer, he already has a stressful enough life, so he won't tolerate his princess taunting him. yes, he can and will spoil you, but be a brat and he won't be tender at all. he's going all in with the punishments - bending you over his lap to spank you and making you count, tying you up and edging you, calling you names when he knows you're only craving for his approval. he does everything to remind you that he's the one in control.

JEONGHAN is both the brat and the brat tamer. this little shit knows how to rile you up and leave you on the edge, but the difference is that he will not let you act on that. on the contrary, when you're being all needy because he has teased you all day, he will shame you and degrade you for it. punishes you by not letting you cum for literal days because he's mean like that.

JOSHUA is a brat tamer. he's usually a sweet and careful lover, but when you're pushing his buttons, he doesn't let it slide. because he's treating you like a queen and he's not having the way you're disrespecting him. once he gets you pinned underneath him, his fingers deep in your soaked heat and giving you your ninth orgasm of the night, you understand that you made a grave mistake and he's here to remind you of that everytime.

JUN is a brat, but it's unintentional. he never wants to get on your nerves, but sometimes he just needs you when it's not the right time and he can't let it go. it's not that he wants to annoy you, but he's just so horny right now. he takes the punishment so well though, begging prettily and perfectly listening to every one of your orders, apologies falling past his lips when you tear away his orgasm from him again.

HOSHI is a brat, and it's very, very intentional. he loves it when you're in control, loves it when you're mad at him and punishes him. so he purposely gets on your nerves to get you to ruin him. even when you're spitting in his mouth and riding him until he cannot talk anymore, he's still disobeying and touching you when you ask him not to. he never stops.

WONWOO is a brat tamer. he loves to please you, but when you're interrupting him every two seconds when he told you he was in the middle of a game, there is no fucking space for being loving anymore. he forces you to sit on his cock and stay still until you're crying from desperation, and don't you dare cum because he will be even meaner if you do without his permission.

JIHOON is a brat tamer. he already loves to hear you beg and to be a little rough. so when you're being a little tease and he's not in the mood for that, he's quick to get you face down ass up, a death grip on your hips that renders you unable to move. he's fucking you until you're pleading for him to stop and crying into his pillow from how frustrated you are because he doesn't let you cum.

SEOKMIN physically cannot be either. even when he's on top, he's too soft to tame you, and he's not strong enough to be a brat. as soon as you scold him and call him bad, he's on his knees, ready to ask for your forgiveness and to be your good boy again. he cannot bear any punishment and he will cry for real if you don't let him touch you anymore.

MINGYU is both the brat and the brat tamer. there are times where he just wants you to get mad at him and ride him into oblivion, until he cannot think straight anymore. and there are other times where he feels the need to put you back to your place - on your knees, with his cock in your throat and him facefucking you.

MINGHAO is a brat tamer. he's strict about the rules, so cross them and you're in for a punishment. he will adapt it to the degree you've messed up. most of the times, he's tying you up prettily and forcing you to watch him jerk off in front of you while you cannot even get any friction, not touching you before you've begged enough to his liking

SEUNGKWAN is a brat. getting on your nerves seems to be his life mission sometimes, he thinks it's fun how easy it is to rile you up. however, he quickly regrets it once you're riding his face until you're satisfied, while he's painfully hard, unable to cum because of the cockring you put on him.

VERNON is a brat tamer. he's pretty chill when it comes to sex, but there's just something about the way you become putty in his hands when he pulls on your hair and how you lose your words when he's thrusting deep inside of you. he smirks as your eyes roll back and you're moaning "sorry" everytime he calls you a slut for annoying him while he was doing something important.

CHAN is a brat. it's actually infuriating how he can be so annoying and not lose his smirk as you're getting more and more mad. however he's quick to shut his mouth when you're pressing a vibrator against his cock and sucking hickeys on his neck but not letting him cum at all. once he's crying because it's too much, you're satisfied with the way you broke him and he's ready to do it all over again.

[iamnmbr3]

Draco's Motivations in the Book 7 Room of Requirement Confrontation

I just reread the Fiendfyre sequence and based on a close reading Draco's motivations and actions are a lot more complex and sympathetic than I remembered. Not to mention, once again, here there be drarry.

First, the context:

After the incident at Malfoy Manor, we know from Harry's psychic connection to Voldemort and from the Carrows' overheard discussion that Voldemort's wrath was exceptionally terrible. The Malfoy family became virtual prisoners in their own homes for months and were subjected to especially brutal (even by Voldemort's standards) torture that was also likely quite protracted. Lucius has visible marks on him months later - which, given what we know about magic in that world, really speaks to the level of what has been going on. While he probably got the worst of it, it's certain that none of his family members escaped unscathed. After their other failings they have at this point probably permanently fallen out of favor and have nothing but a (likely short) life of misery to look forward to.

Draco bears a lot of responsibility for this state of affairs since it was he who chose not to identify Harry. This likely adds to his sense of conflict as his conscience tells him one thing and everything he has ever been taught tells him something else. He presumably feels responsible for the suffering his family (we know from book 6 that he does genuinely care about them) has to endure.

Not to mention that he himself is suffering along with them. It would be unsurprising therefore if he felt tempted to "rectify" his earlier moment of what he probably perceived as weakness and made a last ditch attempt to save his parents' (and his own) lives and prestige. While Harry has been taught that love and mercy are noble and valuable impulses, Draco has not. In his world love and mercy are called weakness.

Quite possibly as he suffered and faced death alongside his family, part of him must have felt ashamed of the impulses that led to his choices when Harry was a prisoner at the Manor. Everything he has been taught tells him that Voldemort's victory is inevitable and that his moment of shameful weakness has accomplished nothing except to fail his own family and condemn them (and himself) to a likely short life filled with suffering.

At most what we see in the Room of Requirement is a replay of what we saw on the Astronomy Tower - where Draco is deeply conflicted and when confronted with the reality of violence in support of Voldemort cannot go through with it even under tremendous pressure and even though his failure to carry out these acts of violence will inflict danger and suffering on himself and his loved ones.

But, is that even what actually happens? In my opinion, the answer is "no."

The scene in question:

If we actually look at the text it's not even clear that's what's going on at all. Draco's motives are ambiguous at best here. The scene starts when Harry is stretching out his hand to take the diadem. Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle come up behind him and he is completely unaware of them. Draco then announces their presence, alerting Harry that he is being watched. He could've very easy simply stunned Harry or attempted to put the Imperius Curse on him (or killed him) while his back was turned. But he didn't do any of those things. Instead he talks, thereby ruining the element of surprise.

And that's not typical of Draco at all when he actually wants to attack Harry. He's never beaten Harry in a face-to-face confrontation. (In fact, the last time he tried - in 6th year - he almost ended up dead.) The two times he has managed to incapacitate Harry - when he petrified him on the train in 6th year and when he hid and caught Harry for Umbridge with a tripping jinx in 5th year - he did so by using the element of surprise to his advantage.

Given that Draco knows that Harry is a very formidable opponent (AND that Harry's friends are nearby) if he truly simply wanted to capture or kill him, announcing his presence is the last thing he would ever do. Then he says "That's my wand you're holding." He still doesn't cast any spells - not even to try to disarm Harry. He also doesn't say he wants to hand him over to Voldemort. He doesn't even tell Harry to drop his own wand, attempt to take him prisoner, or even threaten him.

It is Crabbe, not Draco who says "We're gonna be rewarded...We decided to bring you to 'im." Draco doesn't say anything about his own intentions other than that he wants his wand back - and we certainly know that even in 6th year he didn't trust Crabbe and Goyle, much less now, and thus is unlikely to speak openly in front of them. 

At this point Ron comes to investigate and Crabbe tries to use magic to cause a mountain of debris to fall on Ron and crush him. Harry counters the spell and Draco then grabs Crabbe's arm when he tries to repeat the spell. He gives as his justification the need to avoid the diadem being crushed but since we know he doesn't trust Crabbe it's likely this isn't truthful. Especially since Voldemort has not said anything about wanting the diadem (and even if it wasn't a Horcrux it likely wouldn't be damaged in any case).

Crabbe points out this very thing and Draco argues with him at which point Crabbe says "Who cares what you think? I don't take your orders no more, Draco. You an' your dad are finished." So arguably he was not even including Draco in the "We" he imagined would be rewarded. Crabbe then tries to use Crucio on Harry.

Draco then again intervenes and tries to stop him. 

"STOP" Malfoy shouted at Crabbe, his voice echoing through the enormous room. "The Dark Lord wants him alive--"  

He doesn't even just say it. He shouts. We rarely see Draco shout. He is someone who generally keeps his deeper emotions hidden - it's why he's so naturally gifted at Occlumency to the point that he is powerful enough at a young age to lie to both Snape and Voldemort.

What he says here doesn't really even make sense because Goyle isn't even trying to kill Harry; he's just trying to hurt him. However Draco is so distressed by this that he actually starts yelling, something we NEVER see him do at ANY other point in the book. "The Dark Lord wants him alive" is also exactly what Snape says to Bellatrix as they flee in book 6, and we know that Snape's real intent was to protect Harry with a believable excuse. It's the only thing Draco could reasonably say in that moment as a justification. 

Crabbe (rather sensibly) points out that 1) he didn't even try to kill Harry and 2) Voldemort ultimately wants Harry dead so it probably doesn't matter that much. This makes perfect sense. And yet Draco is inordinately concerned with preventing harm to Harry & Co rather than with taking any action to capture or even disarm any of them.

Clearly he did not expect to lose control of Crabbe and Goyle like this and as a result is now losing control of the situation (and himself). (Unlike Harry, Draco is more of a planner and is not as good at reacting in the moment.) Also the possibility that Harry could be killed seems to drive him nearly to the point of hysteria - rather like how Ron reacted to Hermione being in mortal peril at the Manor. This is not just a general aversion to killing. This is something more. He finds the idea of Harry dying truly unbearable. (I don't need my ships to be canon; this one just happens to be.)

At this point they start fighting and Draco loses Narcissa's wand. Wandless, he STILL tries to intervene. Crabbe and Goyle are both aiming their wands at Harry and Draco once again starts yelling -  "Don't kill him! DON'T KILL HIM!" and is obviously in significant distress and is not at all happy with what is going on. 

After that the Fiendfyre gets loose and the rest of the scene goes down without much dialogue.

At NO POINT does Draco 1) actually say he wants to hand Harry to Voldemort OR  2) attempt to attack Harry or Ron or Hermione at all OR 3) use his Dark Mark to call Voldemort OR 4) tell anyone he's seen Harry after they get out of the Room of Requirement - even in a later scene when he's been cornered by a Death Eater who is considering killing him he doesn't reveal this information even though that probably would've proven his loyalty or at the very least distracted the Death Eater.

Conclusions about Draco's motivations:

So, where does that leave us? What went down there and what was Draco trying to do?

We really have 3 options.

Option 1: Draco tried to hand Harry over to Voldemort in order to save himself and his family, got cold feet and couldn't really go through with it, and then lost control of the situation due to Crabbe and Goyle's changing loyalties. 

Verdict: Possible but unlikely given the remarkably bad job he does of it and how inconsistent his approach is with his usual MO. Even if we assume his heart wasn't in it you'd think he'd at least have got as far as disarming Harry before announcing his presence. Especially since Harry almost killed him last time they fought (and Draco probably doesn't know Harry didn't know what the Sectum Sempra curse would do.)

And if his heart WAS in it then then this makes even less sense since he not only didn't attack Harry while his back was turned but also didn't call Voldemort or even inform anyone that he'd seen Harry. 

Option 2:  Draco wanted to get himself captured in a way that looked convincing so that he could take the chance Dumbledore offered in 6th year, only it went quite badly wrong.

Verdict: This would be an interesting possibility but I think it's also unlikely as it's simply too risky. He doesn't know Harry was there on the astronomy tower or that Harry would make the same offer. His family would also likely be murdered if Voldemort realized this had happened.  

Option 3: Draco wanted to cut a deal in order to improve his family's situation without actually handing Harry over - perhaps he hoped for some kind of exchange where he could get his wand back and bring Voldemort the diadem as some kind of consolation prize - but overestimated his control over his cronies and lost control of the situation. 

Verdict: I actually think this works best given his behavior during the scene. He initiates a conversation because he wants information about what and where the diadem is (and what value it would have to Voldemort) and because he wants to make some offer along the lines of 'give me my wand and the diadem and we'll let you go.' This could get him what he wants and help his family without actually harming anyone.

Also it hedges his bets a bit because if Harry wins he will owe Draco. The problem of course is that Crabbe and Goyle aren't happy to just take orders anymore and have their own goals. At that point, instead of caving and going along with what Crabbe and Goyle want to do instead, Draco actually tries to intervene, albeit in a way that doesn't actually expose him as questioning Voldemort.  

Draco made his choice at the Manor. If he wanted to hand Harry over he would have. But he couldn't. He cares about him too much. But he also feels tremendous guilt and fear over the price he and his family are still paying for that decision. This is his attempt to try to fix things - to try to find a middle ground between the conflicting imperatives that are tearing him apart. The reality though, as he shortly discovers, is that there is no middle ground. And when he sees that, once again he chooses Harry.

[genoskissors]

Finally done! Thank you everyone for your patience!

Principal Monokuma’s Room Check!

Trigger Happy Havoc Boys

THH Girls Rooms

There are a few notes throughout to explain some things I thought most would not know (like Japanese traditions) or just to clarify things changed in localization.

Naegi-kun’s Room Edition

Sigh. It’s the private room where a high school boy spends his agonizing nights, even so, what’s with this plainness!? Why don’t you have something more shameful or embarrassing!? Naegi-kun, I’m disappointed in you!

Checkpoints: A: It’s the memo pad I prepared. It would be nice if it had Hope’s Peak Academy’s school emblem on it, to give it a rich feeling.

B: This is the key to the room. It has a key holder with the appropriate name on it. It cannot be bought and is very sophisticated, so improper usage is prohibited!

C: It’s a mock sword that was kept on the display shelf. Even though it was only decoration, it was carefully displayed, so an incident happened. Upupupu.

D: I heard that mysterious curly hair grows in boys’ rooms. An adhesive lint roller is useful for frequent cleaning! I’m so attentive! Note: Don't really know what this means, I think it might be referencing Junko's hair.

Ishimaru-kun’s Room Edition

It’s a room filled with study materials and is well organized, just as one would expect from a serious person like Ishimaru-kun’s room. Hmm~ If you spend all your energy on this, you won’t be able to focus on the killing game!

Checkpoints: A: Dictionaries and reference books are the most exciting when lined up neatly on your desk. Huh? Are you using them properly? Hee~...

B: He irons his uniform every day. Also, the armbands as well, so you know he really likes this things.

C: A New Year’s tradition, Kakizome. I suggest “In early spring, be careful of bears, as they can get ferocious!” Huh? Aren’t you going to start writing?

D: What kind of guy likes to swing around a bamboo sword even though he isn’t part of the kendo club? Do you stand on the ground, put your forehead on it, and spin around to split a watermelon? Note: This is a Japanese game called Suikawari.

Togami-kun’s Room Edition

Genuine rich people tend to seek a more modest sense of luxury rather than those who are nouveau riche. I have no clue how much Togami-kun’s room actually costs. Note: “Nouveau riche” refers to people who become rich themselves and “genuine rich people” refers to people who were born into a rich family, like Byakuya.

Checkpoints: A: It’s a violin or something. Famous ones can be worth billions. That’s more expensive than the famous Chinese medicine, bear bile, which is very pricey, roar! Note: Based on the phrase "violin or something" it's likely a viola. That's just my theory though.

B: There is nothing more difficult than determining the value of a painting. In many cases, collecting these masterpieces is not about appreciating art, but investing in it.

C: Ahaha! A red carpet laid out from the entrance, Togami-kun must be kidding me! That’s what the life of stardom is about!

D: The famous line “I will kill you, without fail!” is what makes Togami’s glasses indispensable! I can’t believe he has 10 of them, that’s quite a thorough preparation!

Oowada-kun’s Room Edition

I believe that biker gangs are a style and a fashion. That’s why it’s necessary for those who call themselves bikers to have an easy-to-understand logo or item that appeals to everyone. Upupu.

Checkpoints: A: These are the big flags put on the back of bikes, aren’t they? I always wonder if they are safe from being blown away by the wind.

B: These are all motorcycle magazines, right? I’m not going to go as far as suggesting philosophy books or economic magazines, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to open a textbook once in a while?

C: Are you really satisfied with the 5G “ Cypress Stick”? Isn’t the 1500G “Steel Broadsword” the catharsis? Note: I’m pretty sure this is a Dragon Quest reference.

D: This is the colorful banner of Oowada’s gang, “Crazy Diamonds”. Hmm, you’re only really good at difficult kanji.

Kuwata-kun’s Room Edition

Hey, Kuwata-kun, baseball doesn't even have a “ya” character! I know you don't like it, but now that you're at our school, maybe you could try to act like a baseball player, even if it's a front? Note: The Japanese word for baseball, Yakyuu (野球), has a “ya” in it, so I think Monokuma is just saying this to see if Leon will even care enough to react to his statement.

Checkpoints: A: Why do self-proclaimed punk fans like human skulls? A sea bream head has another sea bream inside, right? That's even more favorable! Note: I'm not gonna lie, I have no clue what that second sentence means. I think it relates to the saying “鯛の尾より鰯の頭”, but I still don't know how it correlates.

B: I want CDs and DVDs to come in splendid limited edition packaging, but they don’t fit neatly like this. How troubling.

C: Carrying your guitar case on your back and feeling tired as you walk around town is super cool. There was a time when I thought that way too.

D: In order to stand out and be popular, you need to have vocals. Kuwata-kun's purity is manly in a sense. I would like to hear his beautiful voice. Upupu.

Yamada-kun’s Room Edition

A utopia making the world’s geeks water at the mouth, the pink love nest of Buuko and Yamada-kun. As a despair maniac, I am driven by a desire for a room devoted solely to my hobby. Note: Buuko is Princess Piggles in the localization.

Checkpoints: A: Hey, I’m giving it everything I got to ask this question, is this what Yamada-kun is wearing? Isn’t it self-indulgent to wear it on his 170cm and 155kg body!?

B: “MARTIAL ARTS LADIES”, “This time, I’ll punish you on the mat!”.  I don’t understand why martial arts cosplay makes your heart pound.

C: Some people say these sheets and body pillow are perverted, but the desire for skin contact is neither two-dimensional nor three-dimensional.

D: Three-dimensional objects have a sense of unity because they are equipped with a three-dimensional concept. The shading of light and the convergence of existence are astonishing (The following is omitted). Note: “The following is omitted” is just a way of saying Monokuma kept rambling.

Yasuhiro-kun's Room Edition

Hagakure-kun’s love of fortune-telling is, quite honestly, shady, right? Even though he has all these tools, he still uses intuition to tell fortunes, doesn’t he? So, what in the world are these piles of junk for!?

Checkpoints: A: People with extremely dry skin tend to have a lot of wrinkles on their palms, which makes palm readers cry. It’s hard to even do fortune-telling these days.

B: Fortune-telling cards are great for mysteries and romance. If I sold "Monokuma’s Carefully Made Pure Gold Tarot", maybe I could make a profit. Upupupu.

C: If anything, Hagakure-kun has more of an oriental divination image. When I see tools like this, I want to display them in an alcove or something.

D: Come on! How many times do I have to say this!? When buying fortune-telling goods online, do not cash on delivery! This time, I was the one who paid for it too!

Fujisaki-kun’s Room Edition

Even though he’s the Super High School Level Programmer, Fujisaki-kun actually has a variety of hobbies. That’s good, science... a science student! I want to learn many things from him.

Checkpoints: A: Three monitors and a luxurious-looking executive chair. He looks like a young company president or day trader. A serious side profile would be wonderful!

B: I don’t know what this is, but it looks amazing anyway! It looks like an ancient map or some other geeky item.

C: After people learn how to interact with the romantic hyperspace of the universe, their outlook on life changes drastically. That’s what I thought just now.

D: Tada! There are hand grips on the bed! It makes me tear up to know he was secretly training.

[ladyinred2248]

The Scottish Princess, Finan x Reader, Part 2

Warning: Mature. Minors DNI. TW in Part 1.

“Are you ready, Princess?”

You now knew that Alfred was indeed looking for you, which came as no surprise.

Uhtred and Sihtric came into the room, quickly shutting the door behind them.

Uhtred turned to face Finan, speaking quietly and suspiciously. “Finan…Why is she with you?”

The moment of silence in the room at that moment was deafening.

Finan sighed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck nervously.

“Lord, we met outside the Alehouse, not long ago. She… refuses to go back to the palace. She does not want to return to Alfred.”

Uhtred looked at you with a raised brow and spoke softly. “He mistreats you? You are the daughter of a King, are you not?”

Your hands trembled as you began to reply. “Lord Uhtred, he… he wants me to stay here and play the role of his whore. It threatens the treaty with my Kingdom if I do not comply.”

Uhtred laughed. “It threatens nothing. You are of noble blood and you will be treated as such. I understand that the King uses many means of manipulation to get his way… but this is nonsense. Your father would have his head if he knew, lady.”

Finan looked at Uhtred with a smirk. “What now, then? Do we keep her?” 

Uhtred was not amused. “We will escort you to the King, and you will end this. We will be at your side.” He said.

You caught Finan’s gaze, who was looking at you with sympathetic eyes. You couldn’t bear to face Alfred right now, and so you pleaded with Uhtred.

“Lord, please… I cannot! I cannot face him. Please just give me time to think...”

Uhtred looked at you curiously. “Lady, what is there to think about?”

You suddenly got nervous again, your heartbeat racing as your hands trembled. You felt like a coward. You were ready to end this… but you feared the repercussions.

Finan grabbed Uhtred’s arm and pleaded with him. “Lord…we have been drinkin’, and it's late. She only just got here from a long journey. Perhaps she could rest, and we could speak to Alfred in the morning?”

Uhtred looked at how quickly your chest was rising and falling, and then nodded. “We will go to him in the morning. Get some rest. And Finan… keep your hands to yourself.” Uhtred said with a smirk at him before he and Sihtric left, closing the door behind them after bowing to you.

“Thank you,” you muttered quietly as you looked back at Finan. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair.

“Lady, why are ya here? With me? You could easily journey back home with your guardsmen. You could have easily stayed home.” Finan chided.

You hesitated a moment before you spoke, looking into his eyes and truly not knowing how to answer him. “I’m not sure.” Is all you could muster.

Finan sighed as he went to grab a fur from his bed, placing it on the ground near the hearth. 

You moved closer to him to speak again. “Finan, women are pawns in this game,” you started, “All I do in Scotland is live the way I am expected to live. At the very least Alfred gives me the chance to be away from that.”

Finan looked at you with furrowed brows. “Then why are you here? With me?” 

“I… I don’t know.”

Finan scoffed. “And you don’t want to go back to him? …Ya speak of him so fondly.” Finan said with a hint of jealousy.

“Finan, I can’t go back to him! I told you, this life is making me miserable. I am a disgrace.”

Finan raised his voice at you slightly. “You are not a disgrace, woman, he is! Ya need to end this with Alfred and go back to your life. I know how these things go. I was…” he trailed off and became silent.

You looked at him curiously, but he didn’t continue to speak. You could see that he was genuinely concerned for you. To your dismay, you had become a burden to this man within a matter of hours. A deep feeling of shame rose within you again as you looked to the floor.

Finan looked at you, his soft gaze returning. His heart ached as he saw your sadness return, though he had a hard time admitting to himself that he already felt a connection to you.

“Do you love him?” Finan asked after a moment.

You looked into Finan’s dark eyes as tears swelled up in yours, answering him truthfully. “I do not.”

Finan bit his lip and shook his head slowly, looking to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Lady. I don’t mean to be stern with ya. This has all happened so fast.” 

You gestured to grab his hand again, looking up into his eyes.

“This is my fault. In the morning, I will resolve this and I will be a burden to you no longer. Just give me one night, hm?” 

You came closer to him yet again, your eyes gazing between each other intensely again as you spoke. “I can sleep by the hearth.”

“No, take the bed. I’ve slept in worse places.” Finan said as he squeezed your hand, giving you a smile.

What you truly wanted was to share the bed with him, for him to take you into his arms and share furs with you. Damnit, you thought. Exactly what you need, a gorgeous man to fawn over. 

You both went your separate ways to get some sleep, but both you and Finan laid awake for a while that night silently. In the early hours of the morning, you were stirred awake by a noise outside and couldn’t bring yourself to fall back asleep. As you laid there, you simply couldn’t get your mind off of Finan, who was only footsteps away from you laying on the ground beneath the bed. You took it upon yourself to roll out from his bed and down to the furs he laid upon, startling Finan awake by straddling his waist. His trousers separated the two of you from being skin to skin, but he indulged you for a moment by grabbing your hips strongly and grinding you against his groin, letting you feel him grow hard beneath you. His chest was bare, which allowed you to run your hands along the ridges of his abs and admire the physique you had fantasized about beneath his armor. Finan suddenly jolted up from the floor, holding onto you as he picked you up in his strong arms, taking you back over to the bed and dropping you onto it. For a moment you thought he’d join you, until he chuckled and returned back to his furs at the foot of the hearth as you huffed in frustration.

The next morning, the two of you were startled awake by a harsh banging at the door. Finan rose up quietly, glancing over at you as you met his gaze, watching him as he tiptoed over to look out the window.

“Shit,” he said as he tiptoed back over to grab his armor and shield belt, throwing it on as quickly as possible.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “What is it?” You whispered.

“The whole household guard,” he whispered back, gesturing for you to get up and get moving.

“Open the door, Irishman! We know she is here!” Beckoned a familiar voice, Steapa, from the other side of the door.

“Come on, ya have to slip out the back,” Finan whispered as he took you over to a back window, opening it slowly and quietly.

“What?! No! Not without you!” You pleaded. 

Finan groaned as he contemplated for a moment. He then sat on the windowsill, throwing one leg over the other side. You looked down and noticed that the window’s drop off was very far to the ground.

“Come here…I’ve got ya,” he said as he grabbed your waist, pulling you into his lap, preparing to make the jump. 

“No no no, Finan, no, please!” You squealed as he pulled you closer and made the jump with you, the two of you falling onto a large heap of hay on the ground.

You were shocked at the soft landing but your stomach still turned at the far drop, your heart racing. Finan reached for your hand, helping you up from the ground and held onto your hand tightly as he pulled you both into a sprint down the alleyway. He stopped at the stables that held the men’s horses, pulling you inside and crouching down behind you, bringing you down with him. He brought his hand to your mouth with a ‘Shhhh’ into your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. You witnessed the household guard trudge down the street with a quick pace, though not noticing your hiding spot. A moment passed before Uhtred and Sihtric ran into the stables, the two of you startling them. Uhtred rolled his eyes.

“Finan!” Uhtred said, “What are you doing?! They will hang you for this!”

Finan chuckled as he released you. “What can I say? I’m a fool.” 

“A quick fool, at that.” Sihtric chuckled.

“What is the plan, Lord?” Finan asked Uhtred.

“Plan?! The plan was to take her back to the palace!!!” Uhtred shouted.

You walked close to Uhtred as you pleaded. “Lord please, don’t take me back. I can’t bear it. What if I am punished?” 

Uhtred contemplated for a moment. He knew Alfred well, and he knew that your actions would not be dealt with without some form of consequence.

“Take her to Coccham for now. We will stay here and deal with this.” Uhtred commanded Finan. 

“Yes, Lord.” Finan said and then looked at you with a grin as he pinched your side. You gave him a soft smile in return, but this whole ordeal left your hands trembling yet again. After Uhtred and Sihtric had left, you grabbed Finan’s arms and pulled him close to you, your noses almost touching again. Finan groaned as you grazed your lips against his softly, not bestowing a kiss just yet but close. He looked into your eyes, giving you a smirk as he pulled away from you and began saddling up his horse. He would love nothing more than to take you right then and there, but his mind wouldn’t let him.

Uhtred and Sihtric were halted by Alfred’s guard as soon as they returned to the Inn. They were forced to face Alfred as they were escorted back to the palace.

“Where is she?” Is all the King said, calmly as he sat on the throne. 

“We saw her at the Alehouse last night, Lord. But she has not been seen since then.” Uhtred lied confidently.

“And where is your second in command?”

Uhtred looked at him and spoke without faltering.

“He is on an errand, Lord.”

“Uhtred, I ask that you and your men find her. She is a noble and her father will not be best pleased.” Alfred spoke.

“We will find her, Lord King. But I ask, is it her father that will not be best pleased, or is it you that will not?” Uhtred said with a smirk.

Alfred did not falter either as his expression remained serious, not answering Uhtred’s question, and instead getting up from his seat and walking away.

Finan took your hand and brought you over to his horse, gesturing to help you on to it. 

“Are you ready, Princess?”

You smiled with nervous excitement as you held his hand, Finan assisting you to mount up onto his horse as he followed to mount behind you. You had gotten what you wanted, an escape route. To where, you didn’t exactly know. 

The two of you were silent for a while, until you turned your head to him as you left Winchester.

“What is Coccham?” 

Finan chuckled. “My village. It’s not too far. But it will take a few days, at least, to get there.”

You smiled as you realized that Finan had given you the ultimate reprieve from your circumstances, distance and time. 

The sun was warm, but the cool breeze of Spring stung your bare arms as you traveled the countryside. You had traveled this route before, but always in the company of many of your guardsmen. This time, it was only the two of you, and you had never had that kind of freedom before. Your father had you watched constantly back home, and now you were far from it, and at the mercy of a man you only met a day ago. After almost a full day of travel, Finan rode the two of you up to a river with several low hanging trees near the riverbank. 

“We’ll make camp here.” He whispered in your ear.

Finan was confident in his abilities to keep you protected, but it occurred to him during the journey that it would just be the two of you, which made his heart race a bit.

Finan set up a tent, but you weren’t very helpful with such things, earning a chuckle from him when you huffed and got frustrated with the task at hand as you tried to assist him. You had been trained by your father’s men to become accomplished at many tasks your whole life, but sleeping out in the wilderness wasn’t something you were accustomed to. Nevertheless, you loved every second of it.

Finan made a fire and thankfully had brought some provisions for you both. 

“I need to bathe before night falls. Will ya be ok here?” Finan asked as he stood before you.

Fuck, you thought.

He raised his eyebrows at you as you hesitated to speak. “Yes, I’ll be fine.” You said with a smile, trying hard not to show him your nervousness, although you are certain you blushed and he had to have seen it. He simply held your gaze with a smile.

“I’ll be down river a bit, just holler if ya need me.” 

Finan said as he walked away, and you couldn’t help but stare.

You wanted to make another bold move and join him, but instead you watched him from afar as he undressed.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered under your breath as you gazed at the muscles of his torso, his back, his legs, his…

Stop it. If he wanted you, he would have you, you thought as you stood to busy yourself with collecting firewood, turning your back to him from afar. As you turned, Finan did as well, watching from a distance to make sure you didn’t wander too far.

As you returned from collecting firewood, Finan was seated and sharpening his sword by the fire, now dressed in trousers but with a bare chest. You smiled as you came to greet him, admiring the beauty of his torso again as you stole another look, now able to see the many scars he carried from battle. 

You thought that you should perhaps take the opportunity to bathe as well, unknowing of how long the journey would be.

“I think I will bathe as well, if you don’t mind.”

Finan nodded as he watched you take your shoes off and head toward the river.

“Be careful, lady! Don’t go too far,” he shouted.

It took all of the strength that Finan had not to steal a glance at you as you undressed at the riverbank. He waited until he knew you were in the water to look over and check on you every so often, still paying mind to his sword. After a while, he heard you shriek from afar and his head turned quickly, his heart skipping a beat.

Damnit! you cursed as you knew you had cut the bottom of your foot on something very sharp, the sting worsening from being underwater.

Finan came up from his seat and ran over to the edge of the water quickly.

“Lady! What is it?!” 

You winced as you picked up your foot in the water, unable to bear weight on it without inflicting pain.

“It’s my foot…ah!” You yelped as you winced in pain again.

Finan dove into the water swiftly to help you, but once he got closer he saw the curves of your breasts, still underwater but making his heart race just the same. He grabbed you up immediately from the water, taking care to not glance with his eyes as he pressed your chest against his and held you in his arms. Though he kept his eyes from you out of respect, your bare chest against his was pushing him over the edge already. He carried you out of the water and quickly grabbed the cloak you had left at the riverbank, wrapping you in it swiftly as he sat you down in his lap.

“Let me see,” Finan said as he grabbed your petite leg with his hand, pulling it up to get a closer look at the deep gash that had been made on the sole of your foot. 

You winced in pain as he looked it over, but the pain slowly faded when you realized the position you were in. You gazed at the droplets of water coming from Finan’s neck onto his chest, adorning his body like jewels in the sunlight.

“Agh,” Finan groaned as he took you in his arms again, carrying you back over to the camp.

You felt embarrassed, a burning flush coming to your cheeks, but if it was because of your clumsiness or being carried by the warrior, you couldn’t say. 

“I’m fine, I can handle it!” 

Finan chuckled. “I’ll take care of ya, sweet girl.”

He doused ale over the cut, causing another wince from you. Finan took a piece of cloth, cutting it with his teeth before wrapping it around your foot securely. He held pressure there to stop the bleeding as he looked at you and smiled. You felt like you would simply melt in his embrace as he held you in his lap, so little clothing separating the two of you.

“Thank you,” you whispered as you brought your face to his, nuzzling his nose with yours and looking into his dark eyes. You decided to brush your lips softly over his as you had done before, daring him to make a move.

It was with that small gesture that Finan finally returned your affection, capturing you in a deep kiss, stroking his tongue with yours as he pulled you tighter against him as you sat in his lap. You straddled his waist and ran your hands up the back of his neck and into his hair, deepening the kiss as you pulled him into you.

Finan kissed you fiercely as he gestured himself on top of you, grabbing your wrists and putting your arms above your head as you moaned into his mouth.

Finan pulled away suddenly as he gazed at you, his dark eyes twinkling with the heat of desire.

“No, I can’t…We can’t, lady.” He panted, breaching from your grasp. 

You grabbed his hand firmly, trying to pull him back down to you.

“Finan, please… I need you.”

Finan took a deep breath before crashing his lips into yours again, searching your body with his hands as he caved in to desire.

It was at that moment that the two of you heard something in the distance, and broke from your embrace to look at each other for a moment, and then to look around as you weren’t sure where the noise was coming from.

“Horses,” Finan whispered.

You looked at him and watched the anxiety come over him as he jumped up from the ground, looking toward the road and seeing several Horseman in the distance approaching you, most of them Saxon, and some of them consisting of your own guardsmen.

>>>> Part 3

Taglist: @gemini-mama @persephones-journey @alexagirlie @itbmojojoejo @whitedarkmoonflower @bcon24 @justanother-sihtricgirlie @ficnation

Let me know if you want added to the taglist ❤️

[paleturtlecherryblossom-blog]

My thought on the Rise of Ning, Pt 3

I finished 24 episodes of The Rise of Ning, and I wanna add in my two cents about the storyline so far, which, considering that I wake up everyday at 6 am to catch up on, is pretty damn good XD:

I was very pleased they adapted a scene of Lu Jiaxue observing Yining’s calligraphy and noticing that it bears a heavy similarity to Luo Shenyuan’s. This is an often emphasized point in the novel, given how prized a skill calligraphy was for scholars/officials back then, the fact that Yining can replicate his style is indicative of how very close they are. Now whether that’s a sibling thing or not, is anyone’s guess ;) hehehe

At this point, many of the drama plot lines are very different from those in the novel. But the one thing that the drama preserves in full glory, despite all the plotline modifications, is the sheer depth of Luo Shenyuan’s yearning for Luo Yining! And it’s just so!!! The way she is his most important consideration, the detail with which he prepares everything for her in the event of his death, and the extreme passion he is clearly repressing every moment sitting next to her… I’m so very satisfied, I’m giving five stars just for this alone.

Another thing this drama does excellently is to more subtly portray Yining’s extreme levels of attachment to him: the way in all her visuals of the future, he is eternally just accompanying her, reading to her, living with her (girl has truly never accounted for a possible future husband and sister-in-law in all these dreams lolol), her headlong jump into the river to avoid implicating him, even though she has to have heavy trauma of falling off high places… Also her keenness in noticing all the girls who are trying to marry him, while he couldn’t care less. (Also I daresay her determination to matchmake for him is also her oblivious way of staking a claim on her San-ge)

Also, shame they made Lu Jiaxue and Zhao Mingzhu adoptive sibling, putting them on the same generational level. This is because there is a point in the novel where our hot pining Marquis Lu becomes Yining’s godfather without having a clear idea of who she is, and the way he manipulates that seniority is truly a delicious read.

Notably the drama ALSO preserves the forceful and unpleasant aspects of his obsession with regaining Yining; in the novel, he truly cannot conceive that she has a whole life and family she will protect above him. Also in the novel, Yining is reborn in the Luo family after twenty years as a wandering spirit, so by that time, she mostly moves on from her romantic attachments to him, though she does blame him for her death. The blaming for death section is there in the drama, but here I feel that Yining's primary feeling towards him is raw fear, which also biases me firmly against Lu Jiaxue rn.

 Now I’ll begin my usual rambling commentary on plot changes lol. They’ve quite significantly changed Daoyan’s character here, enough that he’s basically a whole new person. While this makes sense with the drama plotline of reopening the Chen Jiuheng case, that’s not a plotline found in the novel. Novel! Daoyan is an eccentric monk who is also a military genius. My first read of him in the novel was that he was very ruthless, but tbh it’s more of that he is unaffected by emotions and is exceedingly practical, and in this he contrasts both Lu Jiaxue and Luo Shenyuan, who have an obsession with Luo Yining in common. So that’s a dynamic we are probably not going to see, oh well.

With regards to the side plot of Luo Yixiu and Lin Mao… I somehow don’t really care for it? Sure, with regards to my personal life, I believe in marrying a person you sincerely like, but in a feudal context like in this drama… it honestly feels a bit out of place. The princess’ son is genuinely a pretty good choice for her, given that he cares for her, has an odd personality that is not likely to take concubines later and has a pretty reasonable mother! Also I just instinctively dislike Lin Mao for always lecturing her about her weight and giving her weird weight loss medicine! Even if she says she likes Lin Mao, it comes off more as a childish infatuation than anything else.

Now that I’ve gotten started on this, novel! Lin Mao is actually shown to have a crush on Luo Yining, which no one except Shenyuan ever takes seriously. He does propose marriage, only to be turned down pretty firmly, and he goes off to a border region. Throughout the novel, he is portrayed as a playful individual who keeps wriggling in and out of sticky situations. He eventually does make his name by securing disaster relief for the border but throughout the novel AND the drama so far, he’s the kind of person I may want to have a short summer romance with, but never the kind of person I can depend on for a steady life. And that is kind of a very important criteria for marriage for a noble lady in those times!

Anyway moving on, regarding the plotline of Gu Minglan’s death, it is not a mystery in the novel: she forces herself to give birth to Yining prematurely, so that Yining’s parentage is not suspected. In a way, the novel portrays her as a very sensitive woman deeply conscious of the social taboos of her time, after Yining is conceived, giving birth to her is the only thing that keeps her tethered to life. 

The drama alters Gu Minglan’s character to be more self-reliant and thus adds in an element of intrigue to her death. I feel this is primarily driven by the fact that they will only reveal that Yining isn’t the garbage Luo Second master’s blood daughter much later in the drama, but this reveal actually happens pretty early in the novel. And THEN all the courtyard intrigue takes place when Yining joins her blood related paternal family (I don’t wanna spoil this, but maybe you guys will guess who it is anyway). In the drama plot, the intrigue continues to happen in the Luo family, after all, as a main character, you NEED to have some family member scheming to kill/ruin/wrong you always. 

Although Madam Chen’s character is more fleshed out here: her resentment is only human, considering that she loses her first son early and has to watch her husband harbor feelings for her sister-in-law, which is probably the highest level of social damnation for her, if it ever came out. Both in the novel and drama she is a person obsessed with maintaining ‘face’. In the novel, her first son is alive and well, and also her husband occupies a higher position than his brother. In the drama, she possesses neither of these comforts, and it’s not illogical that she plays a more vicious role. And the actress is also killing it; her expressions when no one is observing, do give off an ominous feeling.

[ggukkiedae]

pairing: prince!chenle x pirate!reader

warning/s: sword fighting, jumping off of high places

wc: 757

notes from cia: remember when i said i’d start writing idol x reader stuff? here’s the first one! bc we have a lack of chenle fics on this app 🤧

“Eyes up, Your Highness. Your opponent’s eyes can tell you their next move.”

The sound of metal sliding against metal filled the room as you two sparred, one calculating and one determined. Swords met high in front of your faces before you twisted your blades, bringing his down with yours. A harsh yet sudden burst of pressure was all you needed to push onto his blade for him to stagger backwards.

His back hit the wall, and you maintained your distance while waiting for him to gather his bearings. He looked up at you with a smirk before correcting his posture and crouching in preparation to lunge. “Nearly got me there, Princess.”

With all the speed he could muster, he rushed forward and held his sword up, aiming to lay it against your neck, but you caught the blade with yours, parrying it out of his hands and onto the floor alongside your own. The sound of swords clattering echoed as something else sharp was placed against his jugular, your faces inches apart.

“Correction,” you smiled innocently, a tilt to your head, “I did get you. And I’m not actually a princess. Unlike you, Your Royal Highness Prince Chenle, second-in-line to the throne.”

“And yet the Seven Seas continue to address you as such,” he smiled at you, more genuinely this time. “I yield for this round. Tea?”

“You royals are the strangest of creatures,” you took a step back with a laugh, bending down to pick up your swords after sheathing your dagger back in its hidden holster. You turned around, handing his rapier back to him and accepting the tea he presented you with.

He raised his eyebrows at you. “How so?”

“You pride yourselves in the art of fencing, but a real blade in your hands and you barely come to any use.”

“I would take offence, My Lady,” he pulled a seat out for you, “but I have seen you in battle. Yet, the style you use in a match against me is different. Why is that?”

You took the seat. “Because you and I aren’t on opposing sides. And I hope we never meet the day you turn to my ways.”

He nodded at her. “When do you set sail again?”

“3 days off,” your body slumped forward in exhaustion, remembering the mission assigned to your ship. “My father wants to make sure the fleet arrives well-received. Promadere is probably the only trading capital where pirates can roam freely, and apparently I am the best choice to maintain that status.”

“Daughter of the King of the Seven Seas, feared by many and respected by all,” the full title rolled off of Chenle’s tongue.

“Feared by your father and all kings,” you added on with a snort, “Despite the fact that he isn’t actual royalty and that my father complains at the sight of herbs near his food and enjoys collecting miniature animal figurines.”

“Yes, it’s a shame they don’t see his soft side that his daughter brings out.”

“I presume you find yourself funny, Your Highness,” you raised an eyebrow.

He raised his cup to you in a false cheers motion. “Only the best quality humour to come out of a royal's mouth, My Lady. Staying for the night?”

“I’m afraid I cannot stay,” you smiled sadly and stood up, walking to his window. “While I do enjoy seeing your eyes light up hearing my awesome adventures, you have your mundane princely duties to return to, and I have a crew to prepare.”

He followed you to the window, watching as you stood on the sill. “You’ll return before you set sail, yes?”

“Relax, you’ll be eating my blade once again tomorrow evening. With that, I bid you adieu.”

You saluted him and let yourself fall backwards. He rolled his eyes, but looked over the edge to ease his worried heart more than anything. He watched as you gracefully fell into a dive and safely landed in the water, a feat that would injure tremendously anyone else who tried the same. Flashes of your white blouse caught his eye as you fixed the circlet around your head and swam to your boat. You looked up, giving him one last wave before beginning to row away.

Chenle waved back and watched as you sailed back into the distant fog towards the cove that even he had no idea the location of. Where the ship you captained waited for you. He sighed.

One day, he’d get out of his duties and sail away with you. His older brother would be king anyway.

© ggukkiedae

[eldritch-spouse]

I swear this is my last ask for the night, I have been devoring your content and got the 601 badge for it, which I'm now proudly displaying on my blog. Anywhowitzers.

From my perusal of Vesper content, what if, his Queen desperately wants bio children of her own? Not just one. Maybe like, 4 with him. Originally was gonna shoot for like, 12 kids before she met him but understands that he has a limit.

His Queen has a big BIG momma bear streak as well and it breaks her heart when, with Vesper's mark, kids shy away from her out of uncomfortablness and she can't help but think, "Are my own children going to do the same?" She's always wanted at least 2 children of her own but upon learning about how concubi are around them, she's torn about if she should even try with Vesper and feels insecure about voicing what she wants because she's sure it would probably be countered with an immediate, "No." So she kind of slips into this funk, where engaging with rapture with him ends with a twist of deep despair because she knows that as much as she wishes for children of her own, she can't help but think it might be better to just give up that dream.

How would Vesper react to his Queen slipping into a depressive state upon that realization? Would he try to convince her that everything is fine as is? Would he try to speed up the process of turning his Queen into a Concubus so she wouldn't feel that desire anymore? Or maybe even try to actually conceive after learning about how she feels?

And then, let's say she does go through the transformation before having kids. She remembers her want for her own offspring and feels like a war is raging within her at almost all times. Her new instincts battling against her old dreams and desires. I feel like there would be times where she stares off into the distance, face twisted in disgust while tears drip from sorrowful eyes, and her hand clenched tightly against her stomach, nails digging in yet cupping herself tenderly.

- ZN

[It continues to fascinate me how people are so intent on shoving children upon Vesper. I've never even told you if he'd be good as a father, the sex appeal must create some sort of mental warp wherein people genuinely think it would work out- In spite of everything. Or maybe it's a deliberately torturous prompt, that I understand. I don't mind the asks though, congrats on the badge. 🎉 ����]

Vesper will always push back on the topic of children, and it genuinely pains him that you're so focused on one, but you need to see things for what they are, and Vesper will not hesitate to open your eyes one day.

Look around you, you live in depravity. You are depravity- It's your new life! A child cannot he born into that life, ever. Not only would it wound everyone of his citizens to be in close proximity to them, that poor halfling would experience soul-shattering trauma that not a single person wants to imagine. You will not conceive anything in the grounds of Lust. Ever.

You cannot take an extended leave to the surface (or another Ring) for the purposes of carrying out a pregnancy and raising a child to at least eighteen years of age. He won't let you. That makes no sense to him. While it is true that demonlords of Lust have had kids before, these were mere transactions to acquire a direct heir who will grow up far away from them, which isn't something the most recent generations of Lust rulers are concerned with.

Can you do that? Can you separate yourself from your children after birth for that long? Do you fear they might resent you? It's risky business.

Vesper sits you down and he explains to you, at length, what a horrible idea having children would be. But please, there is no shame in having caring instincts. And, in his eyes, you should redirect that to the people around you. Take care of those within the mansion, take care of Lust residents in need (not just sexual need, of course), but please. For your own sake, don't try to establish contact with children.

Vesper is not about to sentence a potential child of his to a life of misery. He'd rather they not be born at all.

The Icon does tell you that your nature and your desires will change when your form does. That it will no longer be painful to exist childless, you will grow into a new age of your existence where that no longer weighs you down. Pain and sadness do not last forever, my Queen.

He will be there when it seems as if your own mind and body cannot come to an agreement, when your instincts fight, when you're torn inside out. It will fade.

It will fade.

One day you will be understand this is for the best.

Lust is not for the pure of heart.

[egberts]

i hope you take this as the genuine question it is and not someone trolling or trying to be obtuse. i think i just spent about an hour writing this! 😅 i am fat, i first learned about and “became a part of” so to speak the body positive/fat liberation community my senior year in high school (8 years ago now). i cannot stress enough how much this question is coming from a well meaning place i just am curious your thoughts on it.

(re:girl dinner)

when we talk about body positivity, it’s understood your health is not determined by your size, no one can look at you and determine how healthy you are. your health, as well as the amount of food you eat, also has no bearing on your moral character. eating a conventially unhealthy amount of food doesn’t give anyone the right to try and shame or silence you, no matter their personal feelings or discomfort for various reasons (“you’re glorifying an unhealthy lifestyle!!” etc).

these principles are not even a question, so why do they not apply to people eating smaller quantities of food? why is the knee jerk reaction to call out how unhealthy it is and how they’re glorifying an unhealthy lifestyle and encouraging others to do the same, especially when that’s what fat people have been accused of forever? it seems so, so disconnected from and counter productive to the entire point of liberation from societal body/diet standards.

if it’s purely concern for the possible encouraging or egging on of harmful eating behaviors, even that could be said to go both ways. i struggle with binge eating disorder and have horrendous troubles with impulse control. to the point that concepts like intuitive eating would leave somebody like me lying in pain on the floor after a triggered binge. i know i personally have to be careful with what i eat because trigger foods could end with me sick. yet how downright inappropriate would it be to make that the problem of someone just enjoying a larger meal? someone who goes about their diet in a different way and has different limits than me? or god forbid even just also struggling with binging!? i mean, underlying eating disorder or not, whether they eat that way frequently or not, none of these things really make it okay regardless to comment on how much someone’s eating or propose that showing the amount of food they eat is not okay.

something i personally have had struggles with in my journey of self acceptance and navigating life in a marginalized body is having to unpack the aspects, and what i believed to be values, of my body positivity that i clung to for reasons that weren’t truly in line with fat liberation. so much of my activism was just me serving my insecurities because i hadn’t truly worked through them yet. just remember to check in on yourself sometimes and really dig into the root of some of the values you hold and make sure they’re coming from a place that’s beneficial.

tldr; someone showing off their small meal is fundamentally and healthwise no different from someone showing off their large meal. neither is inherently bad nor good, it just is. so why do we show double standards(on an across the board principle)?

I cannot stress enough just how flawed your comparison of fat people existing to people promoting two almonds and some water as "girl" dinner is not the same thing. yes, fat people are ACCUSED of glorifying disordered eating, but they are not actually doing that. people who use the term "girl" dinner are actively linking the act of eating small amounts of food or no food at all with being a girl, that's the major takeaway from this discussion. this isn't about shaming big meals vs small meals, either. this is about calling out actually actively advocating for eating nothing for dinner and going to bed. nobody is looking at the thin people promoting girl dinner and calling them out for being unhealthily skinny, we're calling them out for promoting not eating, which is something your body needs to do to function or your brain will shrivel up and you'll die. "girl dinner" is a depression meal, it's food when you can't afford groceries, it's a snack between something more substantial. also, how can you actually come to me and think that defending the slippery slope into eating disorders is a logical thing to do? tiktok is full of teenagers, dude, somebody needs to tell them that it's not fucking healthy to eat a slice of cheese and nothing else for dinner. this also isn't about shaming people at home living their personal lives and eating what they can to get by, this is about people actively posting to thousands of young impressionable followers that it's cool and fun to eat nothing, and in some cases it's literally being used to justify weight loss and being skinny. I would legitimately be just as critical about this if it was fat people eating piles of donuts and calling it lard dinner. but ultimately none of this even matters to either of us, I'm not going on tiktok and telling the teenagers that they're learning dumb shit, I'm not going and personally calling out the women responsible for corrupting a harmless trend, I'm just here sitting on my couch giving my opinion on my blog, and while you might not be on your couch you are certainly here giving your opinion in my ask box, at the end of the day we are just two clowns honking around 🤡

[impossiblepluto]

Hello bonjour I reread Adversary + Antigen and ignoring the fact that I am now screaming in every possible way except physical (and, even though I knew what was coming this time, I still had a physiological stress response to your words (<- big big compliment)), I am also gnawing on my laptop thinking about McClain and Reese's reaction and response to seeing Mac.

I am just. I am thinking about how much do they know??? Has Yasmin radioed over and given them the scoop?? Does Yasmin even know what went on in the back there (😱)?????? Like despite (or maybe inspite of) the fact that Mac's got about a thousand different reactive molecules moving through his blood stream right now, he's still somewhat combative I imagine. Or at the very least, I'm sure there's a good chance that some of those drugs are going to wear off before everything is sorted out 😬

Anyway whilst thinking about this I inadvertently made a chart in my head and thought it would be funny to share with you:

pros of epi wearing off: less wired mac who can breath without his entire body vibrating and causing panic on top of panic

cons of epi wearing off: anaphylaxis comes back and says hi!!!! because it is annoyed it got pushed off of metaphorical center stage

pros of sedative wearing off: mac feels less betrayed, more in charge of his body with more autonomy

cons of sedative wearing off: PANIK

...I'm not sure what this ask is anymore at this point. I just need you to know that my brain is entirely occupied thinking about what the future has in store for Mac and I am wondering if there is any hints or thoughts that I can have to munch on in my brain <3

Bonjour friend (I cannot read that word without seeing the polar bears peeking their heads out of dens or into portholes memes, and I am delighted to realize that)

I am also delighted to hear that you reread Adversary + Antigen. I was completely spoiled by the comment you left on that fic and now I get another one + more Vi thoughts. Ah! Amazing. An embarrassment of riches.

Not sure if it's the worst thing I've done to Mac but it's the most in depth I've gone. I got a little tightness in my chest and throat while writing it.

Reese and McClain hearing about what happened to Mac, the panic attack, and getting to witness one of their own is a moment that I am anxiously awaiting to share (and finish writing) Originally, Mac was going to make it all the way to Phoenix Med, where he would again stubbornly insist that he was not laying down, not riding into the building on a gurney, and mostly unsuccessfully struggling through the halls with his entourage, before his facade completely broke. I was as shocked as Jack and Ed when Mac began fighting for his life in the back of the ambulance.

I think I might have to do Mac's attempted escape from someone else's POV. Yasmin does know some of what happened and has radioed ahead so McClain and Reese have an idea of what's coming through the doors. Also, everyone is putting the puzzle pieces together a little quicker and confirming what they suspected. And Jack is struggling for many reasons.

One of the things that has me stalled is getting Mac's headspace right- and portraying so it feels genuine. The epi, adrenaline, and emotions are still thrumming under his skin, but the sedative is making it feel strangely distant even though it's right there. The loss of safety, security, autonomy, he expects that from Murdoc but from his friends and the people he trusts, that betrayal feels like a sinking pit. If he expresses his needs who would listen? Even his anger feels muted, but will be making an appearance that I'm very excited about. Regulating his emotions and his responses are beyond his ability so he's oscillating between this betrayed, submissive compliance, seething anger, embarrassment about his outburst and shame that he allowed Murdoc to do this to him. Everything that anyone says or does feels so patronizing. There's a detached clinical part of him too, and while he wants to lean into that part, that's worse for everyone else watching.

I love your chart because it's all the same stuff going through my head. I'm trying to fit a little bit of everything in there. The half-life of epinephrine is very short (epi is just to stem the reaction and keep you alive long enough to get additional treatment) so he might start feeling the foreboding, prickly sensations growing again before this is over.

Thanks for the ask, friend! It has reawakened my excitement for this fic when I was starting to get too in my head about it! If there is something specific that you've been like "i hope she does This!" feel free to share because there are a lot of directions that I'm still trying to decide on

[decaying-words]

Threshold

All chapters Edward Nigma x Reader • 18+ Explicit • 5k words TW & tags: Permanent collar, leash, edging AO3 • All my stories

Only when his voice murmurs in my ear that he is done do I allow myself to release my hair, pooling like a waterfall down my shoulders, glimpses of shiny slivers piercing through the dark strands. My fingertips caress the icy metal with a pious restrain, the feeling bringing pristine tears to my glassy eyes, bottom lips aquiver with a divine emotion. In this instant of perfect peace, all stain had been wiped away from my sullied mind.

Threshold

My glassy eyes, reminiscent of two perfectly round marbles, study with unconstrained fascination the shiny object which Edward holds in his hands. He makes it roll and move between his fingers, offering me a complete view of all of its silvery surfaces, displaying a smile as proud as it is smug.

It is a metal ring, large enough to enclose a neck and rest on the clavicles but not enough to slide a head through, its appearance spectacularly smooth and polished to ensure the comfort of its owner, and of reasonable thickness, thin enough to be elegant despite its rather striking nature. A single perpendicular slit at the back, which I assume is made to lock the device with an instrument of some sort, is the sole notable feature on the otherwise unmarked appearance. This collar is made to be worn but not taken off, a permanent mark of ownership and control.

“Did you make it?” The question is closer to a whisper although it penetrates him all the same, his smile widening in unrestrained delight. Hidden in the inflection of my voice lies the second half of my interrogation, much more intense as well as much more intimate; did you make it for me? I do not believe that he is capable of perceiving the subtleties of the heart, instead accepting the balmy caress on his starved ego with an undisguised pleasure.

“I had the impression that this is what you desired; was I wrong?” His habitual playful tone perfectly conveys his fundamental need for control, the taunt putting a reasonable distance between my emotions and what he might be too afraid to crave, even though he is the one presenting the fruit of his own craftsmanship. I find his lack of honesty disconcerting, whereas the most elemental passions of my heart seem at times too grievous to bear; but showing a prideful reaction would be most unwelcome, I am sure. Instead, I give him my consent in a submissive fashion that he is  always so fond of, in the form of a nod accompanied by a genuine smile.

My frustration is short lived and instead replaced with profound rapture when Edward invites me to turn around and hold my hair so as to give him a clear access to my neck. Behind my obedient form and sheltered from my gaze, he remains still, possibly weighing his imminent commitment. Does he feel like he has made a rash decision, answering an impulsive thought forged by an improper desire and now second-guessing himself? Cruel doubts and anxiety bite my stomach; am I not acceptable enough, willing and eager to endure his every treatment? 

His heavy breath caresses the nape of my neck, my lower lip aquiver with a bitter sense of insecurity; the idea of losing everything we’ve had so far, as fragile as it might be, seems like a very much real hypothesis, and one I cannot afford, for I would undoubtedly lose myself just as well. Unfortunately, I will commit a great mistake in a hopeless attempt to defuse the thick and unnerving tension between us.

“You don’t have to…

– I know. You need not remind me.”

What I thought would be soothing words bruise his delicate ego instead. I should have expected as much. That was thoughtless of me. My body tenses like a bow with the grandiose inertia of a cadaver, muttering a quasi aphonic word of apology. Shame and embarrassment stir the depths of my mind and flush my face a ruby tint, warm tears pricking at the corner of my eyes. In the emotional storm, it is easy for me to drown and disappear, swallowed by the hostile waves of insecurity. 

Edward’s footsteps are a lighthouse, grounding me when nothing seems to bring me stability anymore. A faint clicking noise is followed by the phantom presence of his hands hovering over my head then appearing in my peripheral vision as they lower at the level of my throat, the collar open on the back. The entire world turns silent, save for the supreme cacophony beating in the most intimate depths of my ribcage with the devastating strength of a hurricane. I notice the slightest tremor in his gesture when he envelops the shiny ring around my neck, the cold touch of the metal merciful on my scorching skin as it rests on my exposed clavicles. 

Another click lets me know that the collar is closed. I feel a light pressure on the back of my neck as Edward is pushing, or rather inserting what I believe to be the key to lock the ring permanently, then tugging at the collar as to test its sturdiness and verify that all is correctly installed. During the entire process, my body remains perfectly immobile, arms raised in the air in order to keep the nape of my neck clear from my hair, gaze haggard and wandering nowhere. Only when his voice murmurs in my ear that he is done do I allow myself to release my hair, pooling like a waterfall down my shoulders, glimpses of shiny slivers piercing through the dark strands. My fingertips caress the icy metal with a pious restrain, the feeling bringing pristine tears to my glassy eyes, bottom lips aquiver with a divine emotion. In this instant of perfect peace, all stain had been wiped away from my sullied mind.

Edward moves around my flustered form, keenly staring at the proof of ownership, mind galloping in a land of complex thoughts. Emerald eyes look at me with a balmy warmth, his smile so faint I can only guess, a tender rosy tint blooming on his cheekbones. There is an unspoken question in his gaze, one that stems from the original desire to be reassured but that his cruel pride won’t allow him to voice.

“It looks absolutely perfect… Thank you.” 

I wish words could accurately convey the pure euphoria my body is trembling with, but he seems pleased nonetheless, despite the situation being probably too intimate for his frigid personality; a polite nod and a restrained smile is the only acknowledgement he offers before he avoids my gaze, contemplating the way my fingers traces shapeless forms on my most precious possession.

“It is made of silver”, he states, tilting his head on the side, “it should be tender on the skin.” 

I cannot suppress the bemused smile growing on my face at the confession of concern for my well-being; he notices it as if caught red handed in a most undignified position, his lips pressing together in a vexed line and clearing his throat as if to remind an imaginary crowd of his important stature. His expression morphs into one of playful cruelty, the luminous green of his irises turning deep forest; it is a gaze I know well and which usually reveals his desire to inflict pain and humiliation or, as I quite recently came to discover, his lascivious appetite.

“I made something else that might be of interest for our… pastimes.” His voice, playful and sinister, penetrates the intimate depths of my being. “Would you like to see it?”

My breath hitches, mind smothered with curiosity and with every kind of imaginable filth, pink lips parted in a way so subtle and yet so vulgar it only reveals my building desire. A sight Edward is particularly fond of, I believe, for it inflates his ego and makes him feel in control, towering over me and visibly expecting an answer, one that will flatter his intimate core.

“I would love to see it, please, Mister Nigma, Sir.” A mark of respect he takes great pleasure from, I know very well, and even  if I didn’t I would now, witnessing his demeanor change into one of a proud feline, pearly white teeth sinking in his bottom lip as to contain a perverted smile, walking around me as if to better analyze and consider my being. Once he is facing me again, his right hand slips in one of the deeper pockets of his stained cargo pants, fingers hooking around an object still unknown and causing a curious metallic rattling noise that I am starting to guess with a feverish hunger.

One hand holds a green leather strap on which is embossed a small and subtle question mark. Attached to it is a chain about a couple of meters long at most and of delicate thickness; reasonable enough to seem resistant, yet still looking elegant and flowy. Edward pulls the length of the chain from one hand to the other, revealing a lobster clasp at its very end, a smug expression on his face and eyes sparkling with teasing mischief.

It is only when I hear Edward chuckle darkly that I become bashfully aware of the way I pant with honest arousal and anticipation; his amused gaze devours my vulgar demeanor, drinking in my every tremor and my every sigh. My submissive nature flatters his ego and pumps him full of crude courage, I believe, for his presence morphs into one of poise and confidence, reeking of control and lust. His tongue works the inside of his cheek for a brief instant, picking his next words, his next action with great care until the corner of his mouth twitches diabolically.

“You know, I seem to remember that you have seen quite a lot of my body already, with a burning fervor and voracious appetite I might add… And still, I have yet to see anything from you. This ends tonight. Please undress.”

And how could I ever refuse, when he is looking at me with such scorching desire, his smile so impertinent it twists and contorts my guts? How could I ever refuse him anything, I wonder, when I would have done it even under the pressure and the threat, even if his gaze wasn’t so forgiving and heavy with impatience.

I do not hesitate nor do I tremble when my fingers hold the hem of my shirt, the fabric slightly stained and dirty from a day of manual labor, and pull it slowly above my form, limbs stretching under his enthralled gaze and revealing the hidden softness of my milky flesh. His mouth is slightly agape, a pensive expression laced with carnal arousal adorning his beaming face; there is an honest excitement glowing in his eyes, and perhaps even a form of surprise which betrays the nature of his newly unrestrained desires.

The fabric falls on the floor in a very soft noise while my hands snake behind my back to unclasp my bra. I do not remove it right away, despite my vigorous heartbeat pumping my system of a renewed thrill; instead, I am savoring the complex emotions I can read on Edward’s face, as faint and controlled as they might be. It takes a few agonizingly long seconds to take it off, harvesting the fruits of  the sensual anticipation I have been building; a gasp, deep and honest, dies on his lips at the view of my round breast, skin turning opalescent under the artificial light, rosy nipples not dissimilar to flushed berries. 

Fingers unbutton my pants, in a movement slow enough to tease and grow his appetite while I kick one boot after the other as graciously as one can. Silence floats comfortably in the warehouse with the shared knowledge of what is implied, tension palpable and delicious between us; it feels heavenly to be the object of his interest, to witness a fire in his eyes which I am the only one to create. It makes me proud, I must say, holding such power within me, and for a blissful moment the borders between who dominates who is all but a blur; while I am answering his every wish with a voracious thirst only he can quench, he is the one swallowing my submissive form with an enthralled inertia.

Cold and cruel is the air biting my exposed skin, a not so delicate reminder of where I stand; this place used to be an orphanage, comforting and inviting, until the lack of funds made it impossible to maintain. Once abandoned, the Riddler claimed it back, turning the hidden floors, swallowed in the bowels of Gotham, into this metal-made paradise glowing under the fire of a green inferno. I do not fear this place anymore, for I see it as divine, working for a Deity who always treated me with indifference and disdain until very recently. 

There is nearly no luxuries on this floor, and asides from a couple of dusty couches, used coffee tables and armchairs, remains of the initial place, the new home now looks like an iron forest, enveloped in a permanent buzzing noise and constantly spitting clouds of smoke, dust, or other miasma of filth. And yet, it is here, in the depths of this quasi diabolic place, that I feel most welcome and finally belonging.

As such, it is not difficult for me to stand obediently in the iron jungle, despite my state of almost complete undress, for all I need for sole motivation is the Riddler’s gaze on my weaker form, nibbling on his bottom lip as to suppress a lustful awe, sighing deeply in approval. The balmy comfort is as present as the burning bashfulness; having never been particularly fond of my body, my hands cross awkwardly over a thigh I always thought disgracious, or a breast I always judged too small. “None of that” Edward tuts, and I force my arms to lie as relaxed as possible on either sides of my body, eyes falling on the ground and feeling blood tinting my face a delicate albeit not very subtle ruby color.

He enjoys seeing the discomfort in my body language, honest and quasi touching but mostly revealing of the power he has over me, something he has always been craving; embarrassment washes through me, a cruel ocean licking the shores of my mind, but I am the willing participant of my own humiliation, for the pleasure of feeling desired and controlled is as intense, I believe, as my shame is profound. When he clears his throat to have my attention, my eyes meet his, glowing an indecent green; he points at my underwear with his chin, the corner of his mouth twitching smugly. 

With the same languidness, my fingers slip underneath the elastic band of my panties; I see him holding his breath, which makes me feel a certain sort of feeling, scorching and dripping inside my core. Only when I present myself completely bare before him, wearing nothing but my prized collar, does Edward exhale, mouth slightly agape and eyes turning glassy with a restrained desire. He walks around me at a dangerously slow pace, taking in every curve and angle of my body, analyzing my bone structure, enjoying the vision of the wooly curls of my pubic hair and the soft arch of my waist. His expression is hungry, possessed by a desire to explore his most intimate needs, a smile growing ferociously on his face whenever his eyes rest on the collar he’s made for me.

Edward faces me triumphantly, the faintest tremor in the hand that is holding the clasp of the leash; the metallic buzzing of the area is barely audible, rendered quasi aphonic by my heartbeat, so frantic even he can hear it, I am sure. I lift my chin to not only give him a silent consent but mostly a better access, to his greatest pleasure; the clasp closing over my collar makes the softest click, followed by a sigh, honest and profound. My eyes catch his, maintaining a deeply intimate contact, as if capable of communicating telepathically, reading each other’s emotions in the color of our irises. His are almost black, the pupils dilated in frank arousal; I suppose mine suffer from a similar condition.

The rest of the leash falls dramatically between our two bodies, maintained between my collar and the strap in his hand, not long enough to make the chain rattle on the ground. A dark chuckle vibrates in his throat, wolfish smile possessed by an honest amusement; he stares at my face, then my collar, following the chain that links it to the strap in the opposite extremity, hand flexing around the green leather.

“You look beautiful like that”, he compliments. “Befitting your position, wouldn’t you agree?”, he taunts. His words cause an emotional thermal shock, one that leaves me confused and dangerously aroused, biting my bottom lip in a simulacre of shame and embarrassment. Edward knows my heart, I believe, and knows that it requires much more for me to feel humiliated. I expect him to test and ruin my boundaries, and, in the same breath, discover the depth of his own. 

“You have been acting most inappropriately as of recently”, his tone turns playfully sinister, a chanting inflection in his voice. “Yes, you have been… forgetting your place, I’m afraid.”

My breath hitches with excitement, mouth agape and twisted in a smile, eyes glowing with anticipation… of what exactly, I am not quite sure; the mere perspective of being trained, scolded or controlled enough to fill my heart with a growing fondness. His smile grows wider when I almost squirm in front of him, waiting for any instruction he will give me. 

It comes in the form of fingers snapping while pointing at the ground. Not a single word is needed to understand this order, and my reaction is quasi immediate; crouching on the ground at a most languid pace, I submissively assume the uncomfortable position of an obedient dog, resting on my hands and knees. 

The metal ground feels cold and cruel on my skin; covered in dust, in filth and in debris of all sorts of unidentified origins, it penetrates the flesh and burns it, the sensation painful and deeply unpleasant. I grimace, but quickly lift my eyes until my gaze meets his, elated and thoroughly satisfied; his smile is bright, so bright it tears my stomach open, the warmth it provokes concealing any distress I could ever feel. I wish he would never cease looking at me with such adoring eyes despite the belittling expression they barely hide. I wish he would never cease smiling at me in a way that makes me feel seen and desired, in a way that makes me feel useful to his own pleasure.

He moves backwards, pulling the leash with him in a sensual motion that means to invite, order me to follow. I crawl nakedly on the filthy ground, fully exposed in the most humiliating form, maintaining a feverish eye contact which he seems to drink and savor greatly. He gasps softly, almost imperceptibly so, when I move languidly and follow his steps, drunk with the power he has over me. His breath hitches deliciously as we progress together, the Master taking his Dog for a walk; I try not to show my discomfort too much even though it might be painfully obvious on my face, eyes blinking and head shaking when my knee crushes a particularly sharp debris. It is all part of the game, all part of the pleasure, but my heart still aches when I see the veil of worry on his face.

We do not go far, to my great dismay; Edward stops once his back hits one of the tables sitting merely a few meters away from our initial position, glancing once at the smooth surface before guiding his stare back at me, eyes gleaming with something evil. His fingers run on the metallic table, teasingly discarding the unimportant objects lying there until they fall on the ground in loud noises; a plastic cup and its curious content drop and spill on the already nasty floor, various papers glide and fly like dancing autumn leaves, and rusty iron pieces crash loudly, contorting during the impact. I bite my lips to suppress a soft giggle, an unrestrained amusement on my face, while I kneel in front of him, watching the items raining on the floor.

Edward looks triumphant, swelling his chest dramatically, a demeanor never seen before, joy radiating outside of him, pure and unaltered; and for a brief instant, I catch a glimpse of his gaze, feeling his euphoria touching me with pristine grace. Turning to me, he taps the now bare table, the demand clear and arousal even more apparent; so I stand and sit on the cold surface with a grimace before he gestures at me to lay down. 

“Good girl”, he whispers while caressing my hair, the touch so tender it could make me purr. “I will take great pleasure in your training, believe me…” A promise that sounds like a threat, one that makes me shiver all the same, an indecent warmth pulsating in my sex. His demeanor, from the way he moves with controlled languidness to his intimately attentive gaze, reminds me of a panther, dangerous and elegant; his charisma holds a power that turns me into a water-like creature, morphing into his every touch and desire.

His fingers run over my face, gentle and tender, exploring my being; they brush against my lips, trace the curvature of my chin and caress my delicate throat with a possessed interest. His hand wraps around it, tightly enough to feel my lively pulse and the fragile tendons roll under his fingers, but not enough to be dangerous despite the delicious pressure that makes breathing more difficult. His thumb draws circles on my soft flesh, wearing a pensive expression; perhaps a little game for another time, I think to myself with a growing hope.

A gasp almost resembling a whine echoes the place once he releases his grip, fingers then caressing the silver collar resting on my clavicles with a satisfied smile. There is a soft ruby tint blooming on the tip of his ears when his eyes stare at my breast; I imagine a similar hue is probably flushing my entire face, my nudity feeling immensely more intimate, almost clinically exposed in front of him. My heart feels like it is about to burst from my chest, the burning anticipation shooting tremors down my thighs; a sight that Edward devours with a grandiose appetite. 

His knuckles barely brush against an erect nipple, the faintest sensation already eliciting a devastating cry out of me, honest and uncontrolled. He chuckles, thumb circling the demanding nub with vicious interest. 

“Sensitive, aren’t we? Had I known…” His voice drips with a delightful playfulness while I whimper needily, a wordless plea dying on my lips, one that he answers by pinching a rosy nipple between two fingers and pulling with a lascivious cruelty. A moan, loud and primal, under his elated gaze. 

“You are incredible…” he whispers, giving the other nipple an overwhelming pull; the pain is as barbarous as it is exquisite, throwing my head back and body squirming on the table. The delicate torture continues briefly; he twists, pulls, tugs and taunts my now throbbing nubs while I wail and cry out. His expression is laced with a toxic arousal, mouth slightly agape as he drinks in all the noises my mouth forms with grand satisfaction.

I whine, sulking and delirious, when he releases my breasts; he coos mockingly at me, hand caressing my stomach, delicately covered in a thin veil of sweat. His face gets closer to me, mouth next to my ear, his warm breath tickling my cheek. 

“Imagine all the things I could do to you, to this obscene body of yours, to mark it, brand it as if you were but a vulgar cattle. And you would like it, wouldn’t you? You would like everything I do to you, no matter how humiliating and embarrassing it is, I am certain. But not tonight, no, tonight I am merely getting acquainted with your being.”

My eyes roll in the back of my skull at the string of filthy promises which roll on his tongue, while his hand crawls lower down my abdomen, lower until his fingers disappear in my thick pubic hair, lower until they caress my outer labia and I moan with a renewed vigor, hips rolling and seeking more of his touch. Edward contemplates my sex, throbbing with passion and leaking with desire, sighing deeply with a tender expression on his face.

“Oh, you are open like a flower…” he muses gently, before spreading my legs wider, feet planted on the surface of the table to allow him a better access to my core. His fingers caress the plush flesh of my labia, the cushion of my pubic bone and my velvety inner thighs, marveling at the glistening opening between my legs, burning with impatience. I exhale and sigh loudly, my hips following each and every movement of his hand that taunts and mocks my arousal, avoiding the more sensitive parts of me and painfully building anticipation.

Edward chuckles when the two fingers he mercifully drags lazily over my inner labia make me scream in bursting relief. He chuckles when I roll my hips with intent, tentatively guiding his now slippery touch over my throbbing clitoris. He chuckles when I close my eyes in a quasi delirious state, moaning freely as I am using his own calloused hand to caress and stimulate myself.

And Edward chuckles when he retrieves his hand, depriving me of any more pleasure. I open wide glassy eyes, eyebrows knitted in a pleading expression, whining at his unprompted absence.

“You’ve been awfully greedy lately, haven’t you? Taking whatever you wanted from me when I’ve been nothing but generous to you… Do you think you’ve earned the pleasure only I can give?” His low voice is sinister and cruel, laced with a dangerous arousal, thoroughly enjoying my most submissive state, my face crimson red and nodding frantically.

“Please… give me more…” I whisper quasi inaudibly.

“Oh, you poor thing…” He coos mockingly, gaze heavy with lust as his hand returns between my legs to caress my messy cunt, fingers playing with my thick juices without penetrating me. I wail when I feel the tip of a finger circling my entrance, teasing my hole in an obscenely wet noise, a terrible tension forming in the depths of my stomach. My body response is natural, visceral, chest heaving and head rolling, thighs aquiver with a built up anticipation. Edward hums approvingly when I choke a sob, until I move my hips to make his fingers slip inside of me and… he removes them.

I cry out in frustration, and Edward cackles . My cheeks burn with embarrassment, looking at him with puppy eyes, but his smile remains smug and beaming with a cruel expression. He waits a few horrifyingly long and frigid seconds, long enough to make my heartbeat slow down, long enough to turn the waves of arousal smoother, until his fingers find their way over my clitoris. It is electrifying, really, the heightened pleasure akin to a ferocious bite as soon as the pad of his fingertips circles the throbbing nub with a constant vigor. He drinks in my every expression, my every moan, cooing at me when I seem to fight for air.

“Have I not been anything but generous to you tonight?” His question is poisonous, eyes burning like a green inferno as his fingers work quicker, shooting intense tremors in my thighs, my stomach flipping from an inevitable orgasm, one that I sense will be devastating.

“Yes! Yes, thank you… Thank you, Mister Nigma, Sir ” is all I can mutter, quasi brain dead as he fucks my clitoris stupid…

…And then, he stops.

I scream, body tensing like a bow and thrashing on the table and wailing in frustration. Edward’s laugh is diabolical, wiping his coated hand on my stomach with a content sigh.

“I believe I gave you plenty enough for today. We don’t want to spoil you, now, do we?” He leans against the table, his expression playfully cruel. 

“But… I was so close…” I whine, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes from the intense frustration, thighs rubbing against each other as if to create some much needed friction. His palm rests strongly on my leg to make me still.

“From now on, only I decide when you can get release. No one else, not even when you are alone at night with your crude thoughts. And if you are being nice and good for me, then I will be merciful. But if you are not… 

– Have I not been good to you?” My desperate question makes him bark a laugh.

“I would say that you have been rather bold and cavalier lately. While not all unpleasant, I must admit, I believe you need to learn some manners first. Do we have an understanding?”

I nod silently, heart aching from disappointment as it is swelling from excitement for the promising tone of his words. Edward looks at my scraped knees and cocks a brow, his smile faltering slightly. Holding my arm, he helps me sit down, taking a better look at the superficial wounds.

“Please take care of this, you know where the medicine cabinet is. Come back once you’re done fixing yourself, we have a lot of work to do tonight, and my projects cannot suffer from any delay.” He punctuates while removing the leash from my collar, squeezing my thigh gently and leaving me naked and unsatisfied on the table. I nod again, touching the silver ring as if to soothe my own nerves, to calm my anxieties. He marks a pause, looking at me pensively.

“It really suits you. Let me know if you notice any pain. I wouldn’t want you to feel any… unnecessary discomfort.”

My smile is positively beaming, radiating on my face with the power of a thousand suns, my heart singing praises only he can hear. Another shameful moment for him, I believe, as he again avoids my gaze and clears his throat, licking his lips nervously.

We spend the rest of the evening working together on an intricate machine, as if nothing ever happened between us. His orders are still curt and dry, his eyes are still ignoring my presence, his mind is still possessed by his intimate designs.

But tonight, under my clothes hides a collar, unique, permanent and crafted by his own hands; a mark of ownership, a cherished confession that fills my heart with euphoria and unaltered bliss.

[madame-fear]

Lucerys getting wounded at training and he tries to hide it from you but ohh you do notice, the way he would wince when his arm is moving, or when he's ever so slightly limping down the stairs. It makes you so sad that he's hurt and knowing he's a prince - he will encounter battles in the future. You prod him into telling you his injury and he tries to play it off like 'nah its just a bruise' or 'its just a little cut don't worry about it' but when he rolls up his sleeve or takes off his shirt when you're alone in your shared quarters, its nowhere near little. He allows you to patch him up and he sees how his injury upsets his wife so much that he promises to be more careful and more mindful in training 🥺🥺

Anon, you have no idea how I deeply felt your request in my heart ❤🥺

Even if throughout the years Lucerys, your now Lord Husband, became more skilled with swords and training for battles, he still gets wounds and injuries from it — more often than you'd like, much to your dismay.

You're always proudly staring at him from a distance while he's training, and you always notice the way the other person he's training either cuts him — this happens several times — or he just accidentally looses his grip on the sword and stumbles, falling to the ground, making you flinch everytime that happens. Obviously you know he's surely hurt, but when you talk to him about it, he always tells you not to worry, and that he's not injured at all — just a 'small, insignificant cut/bruise'.

But that's a lie, and he's a bad, bad liar. The way he winces when you grasp his arm, how you occasionally saw some bruises hidden under his sleeves, how he limps sometimes when walking and he flinches. Seeing him in this state absolutely shatters your heart for your dragon prince, whom you adore ever so dearly — and yet, you know he'll encounter worse things in future battles. But you just want to be there for him, and protect him.

At one point, you just grow terribly concerned with the mind-eating thoughts of his injuries, so you just insist too much to the point that, when you're alone in the chambers you share, he'll either just roll his sleeve up, or take off his shirt briefly only to reveal how badly cut he is. There are several big cuts, and bruises all over his body. Of course, he never wanted to tell you — or always tried to distract you from it — because he knew that you'd kind of be in between scolding him, and being even more concerned than you already were.

With a stern tone, you make him sit in the edge of your bed while you bring a kit with all things for patching some open wounds up, and so he does that. He's a bit embarrassed of it, especially seeing how your face is a mix of being upset, and worry, so his gaze would be always down on the floor, not being able to look at you out of shame. Once you're finished patching him, you obviously scolded him like the loving yet concerned wife you are.

“Lucerys, I don't want you to ever hide such things from me. Can you not see I cannot bear the thought of you being even merely hurt?! The pain it brings me to know you are severely wounded, and you would dismiss it!”

Seeing — and hearing — how your eyes are watery and your voice breaks a bit shatters his heart. Luke hates seeing his wife feel this sad about his own injuries, and knowing how genuinely concerned she is for him. So, after that, he'll gently wrap his arms around your body, and would kiss the top of your head ever so delicately.

“I promise I will be more careful and thoughtful about it when training, my love. I do not want you to feel this way.”

Of course, he'd spoil and drown you too much with love and affection, reassuring you that he'll be more mindful about it, and that he will now tell you if he is ever hurt, or cut. You're his beloved darling wife, his companion, and he'd do everything to see you joyfull, and well.

The next times you see him training, he fulfilled his promises. His movements were more careful, yet sharper enough as to not get cut several times like he used to, or even stumble more easily to the floor — and seeing your proud and satisfied grin, makes him feel his very own pride overwhelming him.

♡ taglist : ♡

@jjamieberry @anemicroyalcore @countsmoon @tickle-euphoria @beeebo234 @manuholland6 @capellaadara @kyuupidwrites @tchatso @dopepersonacloudllama @zzz000eee

[xerith-42]

im here to ask for something that isn’t angsty about your mcd rewrite

Hatsune bless whoever read my rant in the discord and sent this, I love you. (Bc I got this ask in my main inbox I have to answer it here, but know it's directly attached to my rewrite on my side blog)

You want something that isn't angsty? I'LL EVEN MAKE IT GAY

Takes place somewhere in the chunk of Episodes 77-81

"You know there isn't anything to fight right now, right?" Laurance asked as he met Garroth at the top of the guard tower.

"How can you say that?" Garroth snapped back. "O'Khasis could be back any minute, and they could have Scaleswind with them."

"But they aren't here right now. Not this exact minute."

"But they--" Garroth's argument died on his tongue when Laurance put his hand gently on Garroth's, the one holding his sword. He hadn't even noticed that Laurance's blade was sheathed, resting peacefully at his side.

"Garroth, when was the last time you went on patrol without your sword drawn?"

"It's standard to do your patrols armed and ready for action."

"When was the list time you used your sword on patrol?"

"...Two weeks ago."

"And yet every day you make your hands bear the burden of holding it." Laurance brought his other hand to the handle and gently started to pry it from Garroth's fingers. Garroth's hand snapped around it, and despite the helmet he still insisted on wearing, Laurance could tell how tense he was.

"I cannot allow my skills to become rusty."

"Garroth, you're not going to forget how to hold a sword if you relax for a single day. I promise." Laurance's hands moved again, this time fully taking Garroth's fingers off his sword and setting it aside. Garroth was still clearly tense, his hand curling into a fist when it was empty, but it was a start. "You're the one who's always telling others to take the rest they need. When was the last time you took a day to yourself?"

"I-I can't risk doing such a thing. Phoenix Drop needs me to protect it."

"It's not just you and Brian anymore you know. Dale's back on the guard force, Dante's here, I'm here, Lucinda and Zoey are both capable to protecting themselves and others, Nicole beat me in sparring the other day--"

"I get it."

"Do you?" Laurance reached up, giving Garroth time to see where his hand was going for. He didn't stop him, letting Laurance undo the buckle that helped secure Garroth's helmet to his chin. He removed the piece carefully, setting it aside and smiling warmly at the sight of Garroth's face. It was a shame he felt the need to hide it still. "When was the last time you walked out of your bedroom not wearing armor?" Garroth opened his mouth to speak, before promptly closing it.

He honestly couldn't give Laurance an answer. Putting on his armor when he woke up was like second nature. A muscle memory that had been trained for so long he was never going to forget it. He glanced down at Laurance, expecting to see some sort of smug grin ready to rub it in his face that he was right, but he found no such thing. Instead Laurance looked up at him with a sort of genuine concern that completely caught him off guard. Like he was seriously worried about him.

"I have an idea. Stay here," Laurance instructed as he pulled away. Somehow Garroth felt a little colder without Laurance next to him. "And no grabbing your sword or helmet."

"You have my word that I will do no such thing," Garroth replied with a gentle smile.

"Good." Garroth did his best to enjoy the few moments alone, properly putting his weapon on his belt and setting his helmet on a better stand. Even if his friends insisted it wasn't necessary, he still saw it as essential. He glanced out the window at the sea that lay at their borders and let out an exhausted sigh. He hated to admit it, but Laurance was right. He was always telling others to rest, take time to heal, yet he had scarcely done that for himself when not ordered to.

Just as he wondered what Laurance would actually be able to do, he came climbing back up the stairs with his lyre in hand. Garroth resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sight. He'd heard Laurance practice the damn thing since they met, and as far as he could tell, he never got better. But no matter how bad he might have sounded; Laurance always had a smile on his face while practicing. Laurance pulled the chair from the other side of the room to the table and sat down, indicating for Garroth to do the same.

He begrudgingly did so, trying in vain to let his shoulders relax as Laurance propped his legs up on the window in front of them and tuned his instrument. His pointed nails moved across the strings fluidly, and there was a surprising sort of elegance to it that Garroth wasn't expecting. He let his eyes fall on the man sitting across from him and simply watched as Laurance's fingers danced to and fro between semi-discordant notes.

A melody managed to break out, one that had Garroth's shoulders fully relaxing as the pleasant sound filled his ears. There wasn't much else to focus on beyond the music itself, except for the man playing in front of him. Laurance's expression was surprisingly focused, despite his rather relaxed demeanor. His lip quirked up into a slight smile when he played a particularly hard combination of notes, silently proud of himself as a flash of life moved across his glassy eyes. He was all Garroth could focus on, eventually leaning on his hand against the table, closing his eyes to truly appreciate the sound.

The sound of the ocean waves running under his haphazard but lovely playing was a perfect symphony, one that made Garroth let out a hum of content. Laurance finally looked up at Garroth and couldn't help but blush at the relaxed smile on his face. His fingers stumbled over the strings slightly, due to his own homosexual thoughts, but he remained focused on the task at hand. It wasn't hard to when he heard Garroth start humming along. Irene help him, he was so desperately in love. Despite the current goal of relaxing the beautiful man sitting across from him, Laurance was tempted to spill his guts then and there.

Instead he finished the song with a flourish, letting the note linger in the calm winter air. His gaze turned to Garroth, whose expression was damn near lovestruck.

"Thank you," Garroth whispered, his voice soft and quiet in such an intimate moment. It was that simplicity and care that tipped Laurance over the edge. But not in the big dramatic way he'd been anticipating. Instead is reply was just as sweet and simple.

"I love you."

[cherubchoirs]

You've mentioned in a previous post that your Michael aims to either kill or imprison Fallen Gabe in Treachery.

Wouldn't that make the Ferryman a target?

I imagine that some of the virtues Gabe used to command would be fully aware of the Ferryman's devotion which may prompt Michael to seek them out assuming they would know where Gabe is hiding, and I don't think he would be nice about it, especially since the terminal entries say that the Ferryman's idols are considered perverse and probably seeing all the high quality Gabe fanart would set him off.

Maybe seeing first-hand the cruelty of heaven that Gabe has been unknowingly shielding them from would help them see that the kindness, grace and other traits they idolize in Gabe are the very things heaven seeks to punish may prompt the Ferryman to try to see Gabe beyond something on a pedestal or something disgraced.

Also the Ferryman has to lay low on Gabe's and V1's couch because Michael is destroying their Ferry (rude).

oooughhh michael and the ferryman are a very interesting pair to me, mostly because their dynamic would be absolutely rancid - michael is entirely, unforgivingly ruthless with sinners, he despises each and every one regardless of their repentance or their genuine regret, shame, or attempts to make things right. even the virtuous of limbo, even those that made a single mistake or were simply foolish, michael wishes to see them all suffer the full extent of their punishments and nothing less. he is repulsed by them, a result of his internalized guilt for condemning lucifer forced to turn into dogmatic adherence to the heaven/hell system to make it right in his head. however, with my recent development on michael, he's gotten even further reason to loathe the ferryman in particular - with his current state of decay, it's highly possible he will one day be exactly like them. and that makes him face himself in a way he absolutely abhors.

however, this would be greatly compounded by what he sees on the ferryman’s ship. they have an unpleasant introduction, the ferryman knowing well that they are being visited by the prince of heaven, the very angel that binds all of hell...and they couldn’t help but think, no matter how unlikely, no matter how much they truly know their hope of salvation will never come to pass, that perhaps michael is finally here to release them. they bow so low, face to the ground, but michael dispels their dim flicker of hope by lashing chains to them and violently removing them from his presence. they crash to the other end of the deck, hearing curt words commanding them to keep their eyes down, to not behold him as they are unworthy (he can’t stand it, he can’t bear to think of a sinner knowing his wretched form)

he then takes to the interior, out of a driving rain he cannot feel and that the ferryman notices does not light with his presence (gabriel was so radiant, yet michael seems to have only made the night darker...or perhaps they have imagined it) but when he crosses that threshold and is confronted with the ferryman’s works, with their ship crafted for the obvious comfort of sinners, with their blasphemous idols made of twisted hell mass...with their reverence of gabriel in such fine detail he knows they must have studied him, fresh fury lights his numb body beside an aching, sickening grief. gabriel’s likeness adorns so many of the halls of hell, he was beloved, and this ship is like a holy shrine in his honor. this is how michael failed. this is how gabriel fell without him. taken in by sinners, tricked by his own limitless, weak-willed compassion. none of this would have happened if he had stayed. gabriel would still be with him. he would still be alive, whole. it’s all his fault, everything is his fault, he abandoned them all and the punishment he now suffers strikes him with unbearable clarity

in his stillness, in his inability to act, the ferryman had followed him at a distance, a good host who would give anything for him...but in doing so, they see him. he snaps around at their approach and they witness him, his cracked, bloody helm, his ravaged body barely hidden beneath tarnished holy vestments, and they are nearly overpowered with the smell of molded, rotten roses. their immediate, automatic apologies are drowned out by michael’s furious condemnation, a sin, a sin to look upon him and to disobey his holy word. ordained as the most high in all of heaven, he curses the ferryman even as they bow low before him once more and he spews his vitriol against them in retaliation for their defiance (his humiliation). this is a perversion of worship, do they not understand how they are hated by the lord and by his whole host of angels? they are repulsed by the sinners’ very existence, a waste of god’s love, a waste of all he gave, a worthless, ugly waste that god should have destroyed once again in all his fury. whatever gabriel had said, whatever hope he offered, was nothing but the empty words of an angel filthier even than all the sinners of hell. they debase the lord, they debase his holiness and his divine works with their idols, they shame the heavenly host with their love of gabriel, they defy the order the most high has set by their luxurious ship. disgusting, vile, loathsome, the ferryman is locked still as michael finally moves toward them and brutally strikes them with his chains to draw their blood, to make them pay for twisting the worship of god into something so repugnant. Each blow cracks harder than the last, their bones beginning to splinter as they dare not raise a single hand in their defense and they’re only left in one piece because michael soon strips them of their holy cloth, undeserving of even a scrap from god’s kingdom.

yet doing so knocks him freshly off-balance, seeing the emptiness of the ferryman’s sockets, his own half skeletal hand closed fast around the garment he feels absolutely no warmth from despite its brilliant glow. everything he’d done, to end up like this, to become like them. the ferryman flees his presence in that moment, michael barely registering their absence as he begins to tremble, as he’s overwhelmed with everything he’s lost, everything that’s gone so wrong...and again, when he feels himself so close to breaking, he has to turn back to god, back to his order and to his purpose. he razes the ferryman’s ship, personally tearing down every artifact of gabriel and setting the ship ablaze even as it starts to sink. he wants nothing left of it, he needs this affront to god reduced to ash as he prays for forgiveness for ever allowing such heresy to exist, and the ferryman can’t even look back as all their work is plunged into the sea of the damned. they must find refuge, they must escape before michael realizes he’s failed again and fresh flowers bloom from his ailing body. and they can seek out no one but gabriel, aided by the virtues still loyal to him (they know the ferryman too, and gabriel asks for them to be watched over despite tense relations).

gabriel is shocked by the ferryman’s state, robbed of their precious holy cloth and battered to such extremes he knows many other husks would have died. they have no right to ask him to shelter them but he does without question, tending to their broken bones as they stay silent on what’s happened to them. they can find no words, so assaulted by the prince of heaven that they had run to find care and comfort offered freely by a demon. this angel who offered no mercy, who said there was no mercy anywhere else for them, all the thoughts they circulated night after night in their own mind laid bear by the ruler of angels. eventually their words return, but all they can ask is one simple question despite being tortured by so many: what happened to saint michael? and gabriel understands then, he sees what michael will do if he can’t bring him to reason or kill him outright – he is determined to punish any sinner still alive and become a tyrant over all of hell, not stopping even if he gets what he wants in binding gabriel. there is no mercy left in him, he is consumed by the will of god, and all he knows to do is punish...a true zombie, if it’s possible for an angel. but all gabriel can say is that he is sick, suffering as they all are.

[outofangband]

(Just some more free form Maedhros post Angband thoughts as I work on revising my more detailed trauma posts! As always more can be found in the post Angband tag

Note: I now have a specific tag for the status and conditions of former prisoners in Beleriand in addition to my post Angband tag. It’s “but ever the Noldor feared”. There’s obviously overlap between this and my post Angband tags because the ways trauma manifests and how it’s understood or misunderstood contributes to the dynamics but I wanted to have a specific tag for it!

Semi related post

Written in part for @nelyoslegalteam for always being so kind about my Maedhros content

but the shadow of his pain was on his heart

This is one of the only lines we receive with regards to Maedhros’s ordeal in Angband. Despite how brief it is I find it so poignant and evocative.

Beleriand lies in the shadow of Angband and that shadow lives in the hearts of those who know intimately that place of horror

A shadow darkens, it envelops, it obscures, and it does everything. Maedhros’s pain, the fear and grief and anger and shame that now live within him, can at times seem to eclipse all that he does and is.

Maedhros’s memories are glass and he cannot hold them without bringing blood, sharp and fragile as though contained something that would shatter around his thoughts and feelings when they came close to the surface. Often pieces would dig in so one word spoken, one finger upon his neck, one whiff of the suffocating smell of blood and heat and iron would embed itself in him until he wanted nothing more than oblivion. The throne room floor, the chains around his limbs and his neck. The voice of the Moringotto.

It could take him as suddenly as the sun obscured, the weight of his body as the ghost of his chains choked him.

And to others. The shadow of his pain is in his heart and upon his bearing; even years after there is pain in his steps on certain days, if you know how to see it.

(just a side note: the description of Tulkas's feelings seeing Melkor in Morgoth's Ring, how it "clouded his mirth" is genuinely such a good description of trauma even if it was intended that way)

The scrutiny that former thralls are subjected to becomes another shadow over him, one that he is perpetually aware of. Even when he has done nothing to cause any to doubt his loyalty, even when he pushes himself to the brink of collapse to fight and plan against the enemy, there are those who will never trust one who has returned from the pits of hell, who hold that he still lives against him or believe he simply wears the face of one of the Eldar

And for all that he is still fundamentally Maedhros, there are those who will see only the ways he has changed from the memories or stories of him that came before

The ways that one survives in Angband do not fade once one is no longer physically confined there. Angband seeks to strip away everything that one is and the fight to reclaim it is vicious, agonizing, and unsightly. The shame that weighs upon survivors is melded with the mistrust and hostility with which they are viewed with by others.

Survivors are known to steal (because nothing can be theirs and they do not trust that they will be given anything without a terrible price), to lie (because they have been forced to choke down the truth when it might lead to further pain, and so much leads to pain), they are known to attack even their own kin (because they are so very afraid).

Maedhros is not like this. He does not lie (not that might be detected) or steal and if he does not any longer attack others out of the fear they might not see

And his status, both before and after his imprisonment absolutely ease this particular burden. He might be among kinslaying nobles but they are nobles nonetheless and the mistrust and even hostility that is felt towards him, specifically regarding his captivity, is certainly mitigated by this. But it still reaches him.

His kinship to others who have been in the Hells of iron is a precarious thing. He can use it to his advantage at times and it can be used against him.

And as another shadow, post Angband there is always the ever present fear of imprisonment again. It ranges from a creeping dread to a visceral, desperate panic that can override all strategy and reason. Especially after some years of recovering and of recovering himself, there is the profound resolve that he cannot return to what he was there and that any violence or death, including and at times perhaps especially his own, is preferable to imprisonment and powerlessness to the extent that he suffered in Angband.

He will not go back to that again even if it means becoming unrecognizable in new ways.