#god. fall break cannot come soon enough

[fawn-tongues]

I want to draw.. I WANT TO DRAW… but I am sandwiched between 2 midterms, 3 quizzes and a Big Class Project. Is this what hell feels like

[doyouknowthemossinman]

every once in a while i have to watch a snapcube dub to remind myself that funny people DO exist they just don't exist in my immediate physical location

[ignis-aeternus]

The long term Depression State TM has been overruled in a committee vote in favor of Girlboss Grindset Get Shit Done TM

I wasn't really feeling emotions before but now I'm not feeling emotions while being ~productive~

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, noncon/dubcon, implied smut/cunnilingus, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: pls comment and reblog because 🥲 i wanna nuke this again and could use the reassurance | cross posted on ao3

tagging: @arabellasleopardcoat

You are changed after that, you both are. When Caraxes lands in the dragon pit, Daemon helps you down, something he's never done. The prince knits his brows in offence when you break away from his hold. You walk towards the two knights in white cloaks, gazing in wonder, "twins."

You look between them, smile spreading across your face as you tried to make out one for the other. You point to the one on the left, "Ser Arryk?"

The man smiles back and nods, "well met, princess."

You giggle and clap you hands, "tis dumb luck." You turn to the other, "greetings, Ser Erryk. A pleasant afternoon to you."

You feel someone come up behind you.

Erryk returns your smile and bows, "a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, my princess."

You look over your shoulder as Daemon places a hand on your waist. He looks between them, "you need not follow. I will be with my wife until later this evening."

Your brows quirk, "you will?"

Daemon turns to you, lip curving upward, "don't you wish to know the pleasantness of fucking in one's bed?"

In unison, the Cargyll brothers turn away and clear their throats. Meanwhile, your heart leaps into mouth and your jaw hangs low. You cannot even speak as you feel your face burn. Your devilish husband chuckles and rubs your back, "worry not. You'll find yourself making noises soon enough."

With that, the twins step aside and you cower into Daemon's shoulder as he leads you off. He laughs, both in mockery and amusement, enjoying your reaction thoroughly. There was something in the way you retreated into him that made his chest uneasy. The feel of your forehead upon his arm was rather unnatural. He does not like the effect on him, so he pushes you away.

You squeak at the sudden action. Your features spare no reflection of your confusion and hurt.

Daemon grins at it, then pulls you back in, one arm snaking around you.

Your face falls back into a state of rest, that is until his hand begins to travel up your breast. You whimper at his squeeze, "D-Daemon."

He hums, "feels good, doesn't it?"

Your hands tremble as you bring it up to his. You slowly push him away, "later."

His brow quirks. Defiance?. He drags you across him, eliciting another squeak as he traps you between his body and the stone wall. Your heart begins to race when he gathers your skirts. You press your hand on his chest, "Daemon-"

"Is this not my right?" he hangs his head low to press his nose upon your jaw, "if I take you here in this hall, I would only be exacting the will of the gods for a married man and woman."

You squeeze his shoulders, "but there are peo-"

"People should know of my efforts to produce an heir."

Your body burns at the thought. But then, you both turn to the side upon hearing the sound of skidding and footsteps running off.

"Daemon!" you whine, hiding into his chest.

That's enough. He smirks then looks down at you. He releases your skirts in lieu of taking your hand. "Very well, prudish wife. I will claim you in our marriage bed, as you insist."

And Daemon does, right after he claims you against your chamber door and your vanity table. In truth, you do not understand how he had the wits about him to leave bed when it was all over.

The next morning was strange. It felt like a dream, in both parts that you enjoyed yourself coupling with your husband, and that you could not believe the turn of events. You get out of bed when your servants come to rouse you with a, "good morn, milady."

"Good morn," you stand, pushing your long hair behind you. Your servants giggling catches your attention. Your forehead curls inquisitively.

"The prince is a very passionate lover, milady."

You are bewildered by the sudden remark.

"Shall you wear a turtleneck today?" one says.

"Or perhaps a large necklace?" the other adds.

You look into the mirror and only then do you realize why they were offering such things. Red and purple blossomed on your throat, travelling even beyond the collar of your nightgown. Your body burns and you promptly cover yourself.

Your servants giggle and come to your side, "you need not hide from us, your grace."

"My cousin works in a brothel and she has— aw!"

You watch as one of them rubs their arm. The other who had pinched her turns back to you, "many apologies, your grace."

"Apologies," she mutters, rubbing her arm.

You stare at the two of them, feeling something bitter creep up your throat. "Did you..." you take a deep breath, "mean to say your cousin has... lain with my husband?"

She give you an apologetic expression, "forgive me, I-"

You cut her off with your nod, "you need not say more. I would like never to hear about this in future."

The two curtsy and speak no more as they ready you for the day.

By the time you're dressed in a modest turtleneck dress, and your brown hair is braided and adorned with silver pins, there is a knock on your door. You open the door yourself, dismissing your servants on the way.

"Ah," you smile at the sight of Cargyll, "good morrow, ser."

He bows, "good morrow, princess."

You rub your hands together as you examine his face, "... is it Erryk before me?"

He smiles, shaking his head, "tis Arryk with you this morn."

"Ah," you raise a finger, "you misheard me, ser. I clearly said Arryk and not Erryk."

Arryk chuckles softly and nods, "apologies, your grace."

"Perhaps you might teach me how to tell you apart," you mutter, "as a twin myself, I would be most offended if someone mistook me for my brother."

His laugh is more pronounced this time. He links his hands together as he thinks momentarily, "well, I would say he is uglier than I, but then again, he has my face."

You giggle under your breath. You bring a hand to your lips, "I understand you completely."

"As of late," he rubs his chin, "my beard has become longer."

You hum, "good to know." You exit your room, closing the door behind you, "have you broken fast, ser Arryk?"

"Indeed."

"Oh," you pause, "... you... would not happen to know where Prince Daemon is, would you?"

He turns to his feet.

You raise your brows.

"Would you like to know the truth?"

You stiffen at the thought, "...yes, ser. Always."

"Last I heard he was drinking with Gold Cloaks in Fleabottom," he mutters before looking up at you.

"I see," you say softly, "I— thank you for your honesty."

He nods, "of course, my princess."

You needlessly inspect your fingers, "my siblings would be eating with my father," you turn to Arryk, "and I do not wish to face him. I am sure he would say the same about me."

He clenches his jaw. He remembers the argument yesterday, and how Lord Otto moaned and hissed as Arryk escorted him out the maester's ward.

"Do you mind accompanying me as I break my fast?" you mutter, "I do not like eating alone."

He bows his head, "it is my duty to accompany you wherever you may go."

"... Ah," you look to your feet. You meant to offer that he drink a cup of tea with you, but the thought becomes preposterous the longer it lingers. He is not your friend. You have no friends in the Keep, "yes... it is."

Arryk knits his brows then finds himself correcting, "but I do not mind it at all. It is my pleasure to serve."

You offer him a soft smile. He is taken slightly off-guard by the sadness he catches in your eyes, which is why he does not smile back.

As you masticated your first meal of the day, you absentmindedly mashed your food while looking out the window. You longed to seek refuge in your twin, but you knew it would not be long until your father came around to chew you out. It would only be worse if you went to your sister, though, if she was under the refuge of her princess, perhaps not.

You decide it would probably be better for you to look for your husband, for after all, you were no longer a Hightower.

Arryk watches how your hair blows with the wind. He remains five paces behind you at all times. You were a lonesome thing, he thought, fragile and melancholic. You appeared as though you were searching for someone, and yet your gait felt rather aimless. Suddenly, your back straightens when you spot something— someone from across the hall, in turn, so does his.

Before you could speak his name, he calls out yours and smiles at you. Daemon even adds, "there you are. I've been looking everywhere for you."

Your brows quirk as you walk towards each other.

Arryk allows an extra five paces to come between you.

You examine your husband's face, the dimples on his cheeks, the silver hair tickling his curled lips. You simultaneously feel the urge to push his hair away and debate whether or not his fair expression is truly borne form the fact he was searching for you and has now found you.

Your brows furrow as he tucks his hair behind his ear.

Is this what sex does to a man?

"Come," he says, grabbing you, "we mustn't delay."

Your heart races as you look at your arm. He tucks it underneath his own and hastily leads you off somewhere. You do not know where your feet take you, but you do know that the prince looks lovely when he speaks through a grin, just as he does now.

In truth, you catch not a single word from his mouth, which is why you are turned to stone when he begins kissing you. However, whatever rigidness your form holds quickly melts as his lips urge yours to a slow dance. You go putty against the window sill he pushes you against.

There is peace in the warmth he radiates. Your fingers finally find what they had longed to touch and unabashedly crawl up his nape to tangle in the roots of his hair. When he moans and pulls away, you stiffen and come back to reality. Had you hurt him?

"Daem-"

He turns about and says, "ah, Lord Hand."

Your stomach drops. You feel sick as you peak past Daemon's shoulder to see exactly him, glaring at the both of you.

"Or shall I call you father?" the prince grins, as to show the venom on his teeth.

"It would do you good to comport yourself," Otto blurts, face calm, but you knew better to believe he was anything but.

He tilts his head, "what for?"

Your heart squeezes when Daemon takes your hand and brings you to his side. You cannot bare to look at your father as your husband speaks, "you have created such a desirable creature. It would be more tactless of me not to worship her body with my own."

You feel your breath quicken as you hear your father grumble.

Daemon is victorious to see the old man walk away with a dark cloud over his head. He chuckles, "do not be so sullen, my lord. Tis a fine day!"

You feel your palms go sweaty. You lick your lips frantically. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm yourself.

He chuckles as he turns back to you, "very goo-"

Your brows tighten.

Daemon catches your chin between his fingers. You are forced to open your eyes and you see the glimmer in his violet ones as he repeats, firmer this time, "very good."

Your heart does not calm though he rubs your back.

"You did well for me."

Your eyes begin to water, "Daemon, I-"

"Shh," he shakes his head, "there's no need for this."

"I—'ve upset him. "

He feels your body begin to tremble beneath his palm.

"But-"

"You spoke the words yourself, he's tormented you, has he not?"

"D-Daemon-"

"Shh, shh, shh," he leads you back to the window sill and sits you down.

You are gasping for air at this point, but he does not stop hushing you. He even begins to rub your cheeks with his thumbs. He pushes himself into your skirt, making room for himself between your legs. You gawk at him as he mumbles in a language you do not understand. He is impossibly close, as though you were kissing without kissing.

You do not know how many minutes pass, but you do know his timbre is just as serene as the voice of water. You only realize you had been crying when you take his wrists and feel water drip to your fingers.

He speaks that language again and you shake your head, "I do not understand."

"It does not matter," he mutters, pulling away to examine your face, "you are calm, no?"

You cannot reply because the sensation of his rubbing your cheeks is far too arresting.

"There is magic in the High Valyrian," he says, pulling away. It is so abrupt and unwanted that you chase after his hold and involuntarily attempt to stand.

Of course, Daemon is in the way and prevents you from doing such a thing. His head inflates ten sizes bigger upon unveiling how deeply affected you were of him. But as he looks at your wet cheeks, he thinks, how could such a pathetic creature not be so affected by one such as he. He further amuses himself by tracing your collarbones.

Your body tingles at his gentle thouch.

"Think of it as revenge."

Your lips part and brows knit, "r-revenge?"

"Yes," he taps your nose, "to your tormentor."

You gulp and clench your jaw. Daemon grins, but you are no longer blinded by it. "I- I do not-"

"Your very existence is torment to him, is it not?" he tilts his head, "must I remind you of your own words, my love?"

You are flabbergasted by the pet name, but before you could even tell yourself he did not mean such words, his airy chuckles tells you himself. You turn to your lap.

Daemon takes your chin again, "look at me."

Your heart races and your breath heavies.

"You want to be a dutiful wife, yes?"

Your release a deep sigh through parted lips, "... yes."

"It pleases me greatly to watch your cunt father suffer," Daemon rubs your chin before releasing it, "that is all I require of you."

Your brows furrow.

"Then you are free to do all that you desire, notably all those that your father has forbade."

"I-" wait, what?

Daemon catches the way your face shifts when his words finally click. His grin only deepens as he nods, "yes, yes. If he did not let you go out and play, oh, I do so beg you to play at your heart's content."

Your lips part further at the thought.

"But be sure to always play with me when I so desire," he says, cupping your cheek, "I do not like to be kept waiting."

Your heart skips a beat when he swipes your lips before walking off. He nods once at ser Arryk, who you had no idea was still here.

The said man then walks over to you, offering you an arm, "princess."

You look at his armored limb and feel sheepish. He must think you uncouth and ill-bred upon witnessing what he did. You take his arm— amongst sickly and feeble. You weakly mutter, "thank you."

"Would you like me to escort you to the maester's office?"

"W-wha- why?" you stand.

His brows tighten, "you were having an attack, were you not?"

You release his hand and step away from him. You smile softly and shake your head. He watches as you clasp your hands together. "They would only supply me milk of the poppy to ease my pain. There is no medicine for my affliction, Arryk."

He nods, "I see. Th-"

"Apologies. May I call you Arryk?"

He nods once more, "you may call me whatever you so desire, princess."

You smile, "very well," you turn to your feet, "I desire to call you by your name. You may do the same with me," you lift your gaze but do not turn to him, "I admit, the title princess does not suit me."

As you walk, Arryk follows closer this time, "it suits you well for you are a princess."

You sigh and smile at him from over your shoulder.

For the rest of the day, you retreat to your chambers and lay in bed. You stare at the ceiling, repeating over and over what had happened to you. As much as your father's searing glare burned in your mind, it was somehow not as hot as Daemon's gaze. You could do nothing but go between dread because your father and- and... affection because of your husband.

You rub your chest as you feel it tighten, thinking of your prince. You begin to fight your own breathing though, and sit up to calm yourself. You screw your eyes shut as you bring to mind things that calm you: swimming, Gwayne, Alicent, you-

Your eyes open when you hear the door swinging. You straighten up as Daemon walks over.

"Mmm," he chuckles, "did you wait because I asked?"

"I-" but your words are cut off by how the bed dips when he crawls over to you.

"I would prefer you with less clothing next time," he says, leaning into you, pressing a hand on your thigh.

Your heart quickens at his kisses. He smells and tastes of wine. He pushes your skirt up and comes down to kiss your knee.

You gasp when he pushes you back. And then you realize your breathing is heavy, but not strangling. You squeal when he kisses up your thigh, "D-Daemon-"

He gives you a warning look and mutters in a foreign tongue.

Suddenly, your smallclothes are being removed and your husband is sinking between your legs. You yelp, "D-Daemon, you're drunk!"

He holds you in place by your thighs. "No," he dismisses, "but I will be once you let me taste your cunt."

Your eyes widen and you immediately try to sit up.

All he has to do is lift your legs and speak your name for you to- "cease your needless wrangling," Daemon grunts, "you will quite enjoy this."

"P-pl-"

"You enjoyed my fingers did you not?"

Your mouth goes dry.

"Then you will more so enjoy my tongue, shaky thing. Quit trembling."

The strangled moan that is pulled out your throat is more confirmation than any word you could have ever told him.

By the time Daemon was satisfied playing with you, you were sticky and sweaty and naked lying next to him on your bed. You tense when he stands and you immediately cover your body with your blanket, "w-where are you going?"

"Mmm," he walks towards the drawer and pours himself a cup of wine, "to my bed."

You turn to your lap, unable to help the pinch you feel at the confession he does not see this as his bed.

You watch him as he grabs his clothing, then quickly stand, "let me-e help you!"

Wrapped in a blanket, you come to Daemon's side and help him get dressed. He lets you, slight amusement falling on his features as you so ardently assist him.

He allows you and stares at your glowing face, glowing because of how good he fucked you. The blanket rests heavy on your shoulders, but your neck is bare to him. He finds himself reaching out after you tie his breeches.

You still when he pushes the blanket off your shoulder. He tilts your head to the side to behold his work. You begin to breathe through your mouth when his thumb rubs over the new and previous purple marks he's put on you. You gasp when he makes the blanket fall to the floor. Instantly, a shiver creeps up your spine.

He rubs your sides and kneads your breasts. He's made such pretty marks all over your chest.

"Come to me tomorrow," he rubs his hands down your bare bum.

You whimper as he squeezes you there.

"I will be with my Gold Cloaks," he tilts his head, "I wish to parade my prize, so wear something pretty," he rubs your shoulders, "something that shows my good work."

Your lips tremble, from both the cold, night air and his words, "I do not think it-"

"It is not a question, wife."

Your skin breaks out in goosebumps.

He leaves after and you scramble to wrap yourself in your blanket.

The next morning, Erryk Cargyll assumes his station and knocks on your door to announce himself. When the door opens, he is pulled inside before he can speak.

"Good morn," you clasp your hands together as you look him up and down, "Erryk?"

He smiles softly and bows, "yes. Good morn, my princess."

You smile back and him and motion to yourself, "I must enquire your opinion as a man and not a knight sworn to serve me."

Erryk straightens up and nods, "very well."

You rub the cowl upon your shoulders and sigh, "what do you think of my attire?"

The man looks over your red dress and black cowl. He takes a moment to think of what might be out of the ordinary with it, but finds nothing, so he says, "it suits you very well, my lady."

You sigh at this and untie the bow of your cowl. You remove it, revealing your décolletage and his eyes widen at the sight of the marks on your skin. He clears his throat and looks away.

Your face falls and you cover your shoulders with your dark curls, "is it very tasteless?"

Erryk opens his mouth but he cannot form more than a stutter.

You shake your head, gripping your cowl tightly, "Daemon wishes to... parade his work."

The man's brows furrow and jaw clenches.

"Perhaps the cowl should stay on," you mutter, feeling your breath begin to shorten. You turn to the said object and feel your hands shake. You try to put it on, but it feels as heavy as a boulder.

He catches your cowl just before you drop it.

You release a deep, shaky breath, looking up at him with watery eyes, "will you help put it on, Erryk?"

A line forms between his brows as he nods. He takes your cowl then circles around you. He gathers your hair and places it upon your shoulders one side at a time. As he circles back to fix the piece, he feels your trembling, but says nothing as he does the bow.

"What is a wife supposed to do?" you mutter, tears becoming too heavy to remain unshed.

Erryk feels a pinch in his chest upon seeing your pink eyes. He feels rather helpless as he retorts, "I confess, I am unsure."

Your throat tightens. You rub your lips and shake your head, "forgive me. It is a cruel question to ask a kingsguard."

"Did you not say you ask this of me as a man?"

You fiddle with the ring on your finger.

"I do not imagine it oft, for I will never have one, but I imagine still, if I had a wife, she would wait on me and help me out of my armor once I return. She'd nurse me to health whenever I'm beaten. She'd trim my beard and braid my hair. She'd give me children as fair as she."

Your brows raise at his solemn words.

"And in return, I would honor her. I would worship her like the gods," he motions, "I would not allow harm, or shame to befall her, not if I could help it."

You chuckle at the way he says this. You shake your head, "you are man of honor. It is both a blessing and a curse that you are kingsguard."

You feel light headed.

Erryk hovers when you lean your face into a hand.

You barely turn to him as he takes your arm. You mutter, "this is what he requires of me."

His brows knit.

"That I be a conduit of his chaos," you gulp, "and in return... I will have my freedom."

"Freedom?" he leans his head forward.

You finally face him fully and shrug, "many a thing my father forbade me to do. I once believed he did it with love... now, I am not so sure."

The line between his brows only deepen.

"I should like to do most of what I could not before I die," you chuckle, as if it was a jest, to soften the mood. It does not work; it was not a jest.. You rub your chest and walk towards the door.

He guides you, but grows wary upon noticing how you lean your weight into the knob, "perhaps you should take a seat?"

You smile and shrug, "it matters little if I sit or not, Erryk."

You open the door and step out. He links your arm into his. You lean into him and sigh, "apologies-"

"There is nothing to-"

"-I have been calling you by your name."

He places his hand atop yours, "you may call me whatever you so desire."

"Mmm. You truly are quite like your twin," you lead down the hall, "you should do the same for me."

"Very well, princess."

"Hopefully not princess, and simply my name."

He shakes his head, "too late. You told me I could call you what I desire, and I desire to call you my princess."

"Except princess."

"Once more, too late."

"Hmp. You are less kind than your twin."

His jaw drops, "you wound me so deeply, my princess."

"I am glad to hear it, Erryk."

"My princess is quite cruel."

"Relent, I beg."

You realize you unconsciously walked yourself to the training yard by the time you got there. You also realize then how famished you were. On cue, your stomach grumbles, making Erryk look to you in concern.

"Have you not broken fast, my princess?"

"I- no."

"Then why did you walk us here?"

You were about to explain that your body had a knack of going to the areas in which your brother frequented, but before you could speak, the said man was calling your name.

You instantly come alive at the sight of your twin walking over.

"Good morn, sister," Gwyane nods, "Cargyll." He looks at him for a moment, "I wager... Erryk?"

You gasp and chuckle, "how could you tell?'

Your twin turns to you, "mmm, it might have to do with the fact I passed Arryk, who was stationed at the gate today."

"Oh, bother," you swat Gwayne, "I thought you could tell them apart."

"I just did, simpleton," he raises a brow.

"No, you're the simpleton, you nincompoop."

"No, you're the nincompoop, you daft sod."

"No, you're the daft sod, you freakish dunderhead."

"No, you're the freakish dunderhead, you ratty ninnyhammer-'

"You dare speak to the princess this way?"

You all turn and see Daemon's severe expression. He steps between you and Erryk, imposing upon Gwayne.

You tense and take his forearm, "Daemon, tw-"

He silences you by raising a finger. He narrows his eyes at your brother, "I should have your tongue for that."

Your twin chuckles in disbelief, but whatever amusement he might have had instantly melts into irritation, "a jest, prince. You act as though you are not capable of doing the same to your older brother."

"There is a time and a place for jests, yet I doubt there is a time or a place to publicly slander the Princess of Dragonstone."

"Daemo-"

"Believe me, I would be the first to demand satisfaction to whomever dare slander my twin sister," Gwayne grits his teeth.

Your husband laughs loudly, "then perhaps you should go shove a-"

"Daemon, please," you quip, finally raising your voice enough that you could not be ignored.

Both Daemon and Gwayne turn to you. You grab the former's arm and undo the ties of your cowl, "my silly brother is not worth the headache he's about to give you."

Gwayne's jaw tightens as he looks at the face you pull as you look at Daemon.

"He's not, but I can-"

His mouth goes dry when you remove the cowl and hand it to Erryk. Daemon's eyes rove over your cleavage. The marks on your skin were more apparent than he remembered, but then again, he had only seen it in candle light.

"I... dressed so prettily for you," you mutter, pushing your hair back, "perhaps we should go for a stroll instead?"

Daemon's lilac gaze falls upon your pleading eyes. For a moment, he's so distracted he'd forgotten all about your brother, but when he remembers, he turns to him with a chuckle and grins, "yes, you're quite right, wife."

When you look at Gwayne and he immediately turns away from you. Your throat constricts because of it.

"A good stroll would do us good," Daemon turns to you, "then I will shall show you the might of my City Watch. Tis far more entertaining than whatever you could behold here."

With that, the prince leads you off, turning to Erryk as he did, "that is all, Cargyll. I have her now."

You watch as the kingsguard nods at the instruction, stepping back to let you pass. You look over your shoulder, finding Gwayne already looking at you. You give him a sorry expression before looking away.

[patchworkgargoyle]

Booty 🌿

Steve has a plan, and Eddie falls for it. || read on ao3

Here it finally is, folks! My first smut for the ST fandom. I hope you like it!! Inspired by this post.

WC: ~4.8k || E || CW: Unsafe sex

“Please, Eddie?”

“Are you insane, Steve? It’s hotter than Satan’s taint out there, you cannot expect me to peel myself off this couch.”

Eddie heard a frustrated sigh and a small thud, imagining that Steve had let his head drop on the wall by his phone. “Yeah, I’m aware, I’m sweating buckets right now. But I gotta have the car fixed before tomorrow, I promised Claudia I’d pick up Dustin from the bus station and I can’t do that if it won’t start.”

Thing was, Eddie did kinda want to go and help him, heatwave be damned. They’d grown close in the months since spring break and despite his previous misgivings Eddie had gotten to like Steve. More than he should, really. He can’t help it if his queer little heart does a jig every time he manages to make Steve laugh in that eye-crinkling, head-tipped-back kind of way. Got good at it too, which made Eddie feel a great deal of selfish pride. And if he can’t take his eyes off the long lines of Steve’s mole-dotted neck, that’s his own business.

But this was something else. As soon as Steve called to ask if Eddie would help fix the Bimmer he couldn’t get the thought of him–sweaty and greasy and bent over the open hood of the car, his hair falling just so and lip bitten between his teeth in concentration–out of his dirty little mind. The things he’d want to do. It did as much to convince Eddie to go as it did to make him want to keep his distance.

He was a weak man, however.

“Fine. Alright. But you’d better make it worth my time, I’m risking my pale, un-sunburnt ass for this.”

Steve snorted. “Don’t worry, I will,” he said blandly.

They hung up after Eddie promised to be there in a few minutes, and he rolled off of the couch with a melodramatic groan. Moving in the muggy heat trapped inside the trailer sucked, but he wasn’t going to back out. Steve had sounded so relieved when he’d said goodbye that it gave Eddie enough pep to lurch his way to the kitchen to grab a few cold beers before scrambling into his van. He appreciated his own forethought when he burned his hand on the door handle and could hold a cold bottle against the spot. Fucking summer.

Parking in the Harringtons’ driveway, he spotted the Bimmer pulled halfway into the garage, the front shaded by the overhang in what must be an attempt to avoid the worst of the sunlight. The hood was popped open, but Eddie couldn’t see Steve.

“Ohh Stevie!” he sang, “your knight in shining armour has arrived!” He heard something thunk from the garage but got no response, so he wandered inside, trying to peer around the hood. “I come bearing gifts but they’re gonna get–”

Wheels squeaked from below and Eddie looked down, only to be treated to the sight of Steve’s legs, long and hairy and sprawled open, flexing as he dragged himself out from under the car on the creeper and revealing more inches of mouth-watering thighs. He was–oh fuck, Steve was wearing the tiniest cut-off jean shorts Eddie had ever seen, the fabric of the pockets poking out from under the frayed hems. They were tight, too, hugging his hips and, god, his bulge. The white tank top Steve wore had ridden up, too, exposing the trail of hair that dipped below the fucking shorts, but Eddie followed it up, along the grease stains and the swell of his pecs to Steve’s grinning face.

“...Hot.” Eddie’s voice cracked around the word.

“What was that?” Steve asked.

Clearing his throat, Eddie said, “The beer, it’s uh, gonna get hot.” Somehow he managed to not sound like he was choking on his own drool while Steve still stared up at him from the ground, a few strands of hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. There was a slight smear of dirt across his cheek and Eddie wanted to lick it off.

“You know where the fridge is, Eddie, if you’re that worried.”

“Nah, you look like you need a break. Get up here,” he said, waggling the bottle over Steve’s face. Steve chuckled but finally stood and relieved Eddie of the misery of seeing Steve on his back and not having been the one to put him there.

He popped the caps off with the bottle opener on his keychain, and Steve took his with a ‘thank you,’ downing half in a few gulps. Eddie distracted himself from the sight of Steve’s throat bobbing by peering over at the engine.

“So what’s the issue, doc?”

Steve pulled away from the bottle with a soft popping sound from his pink lips and a gasp. “Dunno yet. That’s why I called you,” he said, leaning on the car beside Eddie. “Oil and battery are fine, spark plugs look good too.”

“She been making a sputtering kind of sound recently? Could be the throttle.”

“Nah, no weird noises.”

Eddie hummed, then set his bottle aside. “Alright, let’s get underneath her then.” Lowering himself onto the creeper and sliding under the car, he said, “Could be a belt has finally busted. Got a flashlight?”

“Really need to ask that?” Steve’s voice got fainter as he walked a little ways away. “The kids insisted on a disaster preparedness kit after round two with the Upside Down.”

There was a tap on the wood under Eddie’s hip, and blindly he reached down to grab the flashlight Steve found. He tinkered around under the Bimmer, unable to wipe away the sweat that started to drip and stick his bangs to his forehead. But eventually he began to roll back out into open, but no less stupidly hot, air.

“Looks like everything’s shipshape, captain–” Eddie choked on his own words when he looked up and was met with a sight straight out of his wet dreams.

Steve stood over Eddie, his legs spread wide enough that Eddie had rolled right between them. If he sat down, Steve would be straddling Eddie’s hips, but that would deprive him of this new angle at which to admire all of Steve’s assets wrapped so tightly in frayed, lightwash denim. Mouth falling open, Eddie let out an eloquent, “Uhhh,” and Steve laughed, holding out his hand.

“Thought you’d like a hand,” Steve explained, smirking.

He took it without thinking and let Steve haul him off the creeper board and up to his feet. A kick, and Steve sent the board skittering away underneath the car, but Eddie barely winced at the noise. He was too busy standing so close to Steve that they breathed the same humid air. If he so much as swayed, their noses would bump together. Christ, Steve had pretty eyes, a bright, warm brown flecked with amber even in the shade of the garage and he swore he could see Steve’s pupils dilate the longer their gazes locked together.

“So, what were you saying?” Steve asked in a low tone. He tilted his head ever so slightly and those eyes held some kind of dare within them, one eyebrow ticked upward. Eddie couldn’t help swallowing, licking his lips, and Steve went from staring into Eddie’s eyes to down at his lips.

“Just saying that, that everything looked fine. Might, uh, might be the crankshaft or the–” Steve stepped forward just enough to bring their chests together, the back of Eddie’s knees hitting the bumper, and Eddie’s breath hitched, his voice cracking, “–the sensor.”

“Eddie.” The way Steve said his name sent a frisson of heat through Eddie, right to his dick, which was becoming a very obvious guest between them.

“Yeah, Stevie?” he whispered.

Broad, warm hands wrapped around Eddie’s slim hips. Steve worked a finger through a belt loop on each side and tugged, and Eddie realised he wasn’t the only one with a hard on when Steve’s pressed up against his own, pulling a hiss of pleasure from them both. Oh, shit. Leaning impossibly closer, Steve’s lips brushed against Eddie’s when he spoke. “I don’t care about the car right now.”

That snapped whatever faint, lingering reservations Eddie had. “Fuck, Stevie, please kiss m–” He didn’t even finish before Steve’s lips crashed into his, plush and hungry. It wasn’t long before Eddie began to nip and lick, his teeth drawing short, pleased noises from Steve’s mouth before he pulled back a scant inch.

“Fucking finally,” Steve said, and dove back in, biting back, making Eddie groan. His hands found their way to Steve’s sides, then, spurred on by Steve’s enthusiasm, he reached down and grabbed at his ass. His fingers wrapped under the hem and he yanked Steve’s hips in and up, rising to meet them.

Steve’s cock grinding against Eddie’s was a fucking revelation. From the way Steve’s mouth parted with a hot gasp, Eddie guessed he felt the same. “Hold on, baby,” he rasped, and using what leverage he had, Eddie hoisted Steve onto his lap, Steve’s knees spread and braced on the car. There was no way he could keep them there for long, but fuck it was hot, rutting their hips together while they kissed, wet and messy.

Eddie tasted the salt of his own sweat when Steve licked into his mouth and moaned, hands fisted into the denim in his grip, feeling more sweat beginning to drip down his back. The heat was stifling, but nothing compared to what started to grow in Eddie’s gut. One of Steve’s hands buried in his curls and pulled, had Eddie bucking up and whimpering around Steve’s tongue. He could come like this, dry humping on top of the Bimmer, lap full of Steve in those shorts, hands on his perfect ass, would’ve if the idea weren’t more embarrassing than hot.

“St-Steve, wait,” Eddie panted, whining again when Steve’s hand clenched in his hair again.

“Why’d you stop? Don’t wanna stop, Eddie,” Steve groaned, before a little more clarity seeped into him and he leaned back into his arms, concerned. “Or, shit, wait, is this okay?”

“God, fuck yes this is okay. Been thinking about this forever, man.” Steve smiled widely, verging on a little goofy, before ducking in and pressing open-mouthed kisses to Eddie’s throat. Eddie’s arms began to shake. His legs had long since begun to tremble. “But, hang on, ah, I’m gonna either drop you or come in my shorts in like two minutes if we don’t rethink this.”

All that did was make Steve start rocking into him again. “Hot,” he mumbled as he licked up a trail of sweat under Eddie’s jaw, making Eddie swear and tip his head back.

Eddie’s knees decided to buckle right then. They shouted, Eddie scrambled, locking Steve in his arms and getting his feet under himself before standing, his hands still hooked around Steve’s ass while Steve’s legs clung to his waist. Steve’s shocked expression likely matched Eddie’s, before he rested his forehead against Eddie’s and laughed so hard his body shook. Helpless, Eddie joined in, holding Steve close while their giggling faded out. But his arms were aching so, gently, he put Steve down.

“Do you wanna stop?” Steve asked. Eddie shook his head.

“You?” Steve shook his. “Thank fuck,” Eddie said. He ran his hands over Steve’s ass, over the crease of his thigh, the tips of his fingers tickling the hair on the back of his thighs before guiding him close again. “Didn’t wanna let you go now that I’ve got you, sweetheart.”

Steve dove into Eddie’s mouth with a hungry groan. The slick sounds of their lips echoed in the garage. With a tug, Steve turned them around and backed up into the car, his hands wandering underneath Eddie’s cut up Iron Maiden tee and clutching at his sides, over the fresh demobat scars, nails digging in bluntly.

Eddie couldn’t keep his hands off Steve either. He pawed at whatever he could, finding the places that made Steve pant and hum into his mouth. But he wanted more, because Eddie has always been a bit greedy. One hand snaked its way around to cup Steve through the shorts that barely contained him, pressing his fingers around the hard outline of Steve’s cock and squeezing, rubbing. The low, raspy moan he got for his efforts made Eddie grin wolfishly.

Head lolling back, Steve breathed hard and rose to meet each stroke of Eddie’s palm. Eddie began to bite and suck his way down the strong line of Steve’s neck, biting every mole he could find. “E-Eddie, I want you to fuck me.”

The words made Eddie bite down just shy of too hard. Steve whined, and Eddie lapped at the spot in apology. “I wanna, I wanna so bad, Steve, but we’re fucking filthy, sweetheart,” he mumbled into Steve’s neck.

“Don’t need to do anything. I, mmh, prepared for this.”

Eddie pulled back to blink at him in disbelief. “You what?”

“I’ve been wanting this for months and nothing was working! So I just, made this as obvious as I fucking could.”

“Months?” Eddie’s jaw dropped when Steve gave him a look that managed to be both fond, flirty, and frustrated. “I could’ve been fucking you for months!?”

“Or I could’ve been fucking you.”

That idea, as sexy as it was, had to be pushed aside before it managed to make Eddie’s horny little brain leak out of his ears. “Putting a pin in that, that’s absolutely gonna happen, but I wanna revisit something. You prepared?”

Steve smirked. “Yeah,” he said, simple and cocky and so hot Eddie could combust. Eddie tried to capture Steve’s lips again but Steve stopped him with a firm hand against his chest, pushing Eddie back a few steps. Turning, he closed the hood of his car and instead of twisting back around to face Eddie, Steve leaned on his arms and arched his back.

Now that was a sight. Steve’s long, tan legs spread just so, one knee cocked to give a slight tilt to his hips. The firm, round swell of his ass peeking out under the denim that struggled to hold together. And right on the apex of those pretty, biteable, jean-clad cheeks: two dark, dirty handprints. There’s even the blackened imprint of fingers on Steve’s skin. Eddie’s fingers, Eddie’s hands. His cock twitched against his zipper and he moaned out, “Ohhh my god…”

Looking over his shoulder, Steve’s smug smirk grew, and he tilted his hips up a little further. “I know I look good, Munson, but are you gonna do something about it or what?”

Eddie stepped forward and draped himself along the expanse of Steve’s back, rutting his hips into Steve’s and making him hum sweetly. “Don’t have to get bratty about it, baby,” he said. He dragged his fingers along Steve’s sides, letting his nails catch on the soft texture of Steve’s scars before dipping down and popping his button open in one swift motion. “Tell me how you prepared.”

He felt the shiver his words evoked run down Steve’s spine. As he slid the zipper down and slid his hand in to find Steve had gone commando–both of them groaning when Eddie’s hand wrapped around Steve’s leaking, twitching cock–Eddie nuzzled into the dip between Steve’s ear and neck, inhaling the scent of his sweat and musk and the faint traces of a clean, fresh cologne valiantly hanging on.

“I, I got this toy. In Indy,” Steve gasped as Eddie pumped him, pulling his cock out as his hand sped up the more Steve spoke. “Worked myself open on it.”

“What’dya think of?” Eddie squeezed.

“You,” Steve keened, jerking into Eddie’s grip.

“Fuck. God. Alright, enough of this.” Standing, Eddie took his hand away and ignored the needy noise Steve made to instead yank the shorts down. Steve only bothered to step out of one leg, having to kick his foot when they got stuck on his shoe. It made his cheeks jiggle. Eddie couldn’t resist giving him a few taps just to watch it again before spreading those cheeks with his thumbs. More dirt smeared over Steve’s dewy skin, but that was only the opening act. The true star of the show glistened with lube and twitched under Eddie’s hungry stare, already loose and used and ready for him. He held himself back from burying his tongue in Steve’s hole, but just barely, letting out a low, hungry rumble instead.

Eddie couldn't move fast enough after that. He grappled with his belt, popped the button of his shorts and shoved them and his boxers out of the way enough for his cock to spring out without help. Then he stepped forward. Eddie let out a shuddering gasp when his aching cock met the searing heat of Steve’s taint and smeared precome along it, echoed when Steve sighed unsteadily as his head slipped up, up, up. Brushed over Steve’s hole once, twice, before catching on the rim.

“Please, Eddie,” Steve whined as he pushed back, and who was Eddie to deny such a pretty request?

He thrust forward and sank into Steve with a slick sound and such little resistance that Eddie’s jaw dropped open in a soundless moan, eyelids fluttering at the hot, wet clench of muscle around him. Another thrust and Steve groaned thickly, his head tilting back so Eddie could see how his bitten-red lips parted deliciously.

“Steve, you good? Please tell me you’re good. Fuck. I wanna fuck you so bad, you feel so good, hot, please Steve,” Eddie begged and rambled, his hands shaking with the need to grab and pull and take.

“If you don’t fucking start right now I’m leaving–”

That was all the permission Eddie needed.

He sank slowly past that ring of muscle and Eddie didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed about the high-pitched, breathy whine that escaped him. Steve really had prepped, just loose enough and slick enough, but he still took his time. He wanted to savour this, the way he slid into Steve’s tight heat, how the feeling made his legs tremble and his stomach clench. Steve deserved the caution. At first, at least.

“Tell me,” Eddie demanded, needing to talk to distract from the sheer feeling of bliss of being enveloped by Steve. “Tell me about what you were thinking when you fucked yourself on that dildo.”

Steve’s head tilted back with a moan, his brows drawn together, and Eddie longed to bite and lick the strong column of his throat, but he didn’t want to get distracted. He wanted to know.

“I thought about your fingers, first. Those rings, fuck, they drive me nuts. Wish you’d worn them today.” Eddie gave his hips a firm squeeze, fingers spread wide to catch as much soft skin as he could, and grinned when he felt Steve clench around him and heard a stuttering breath.

“I’ll wear them next time, big boy. Wanna see how good they look when I’m jerking you off.” The appreciative groan caused by Eddie’s words was divine.

“God yes. Next time.”

Of course it was then that the phrase sunk in. Next time. Eddie hadn’t even noticed he’d said it but Steve repeating it had something other than raging hormones rising in his gut. He didn’t even have time to process the implication because Steve kept going, and started meeting Eddie’s thrusts with small movements of his own.

“Then I thought about your dick. Y’know, it’s so hard not to stare when you get out of the pool.”

“Did you?”

“Duh.” Steve shot a bitchy look over his shoulder. The usual power behind the look was lost in the bright red flush on his face. It completely fell apart when Eddie shifted and hit somewhere new, Steve’s mouth dropping open with a guttural noise that made Eddie’s cock twitch. “S-shit, it’s so perfect,” he said.

Steve’s head hung loose from his shoulders, forehead resting on the hood of the car, needy, lingering moans bouncing off the metal, breath and sweat condensing on it while Eddie inched further into him every time he slid out and pressed back in. With his palms on the Bimmer, Steve used the leverage to rock into Eddie, the muscles in his shoulders rippling under the white cotton tank starting to go translucent with sweat.

Watching his cock steadily disappear into Steve’s hole was addicting. He leaned back to get a better view of how he split Steve open between the grimy handprints he’d left on the globes of his ass, placed his hands there again and dug his nails in, making Steve’s hips jerk so that Eddie sank the rest of the way with a groan.

“God, Eddie,” Steve mumbled, “fuck, you feel so. So, uh, so good.”

“Y-you too, baby.” Eddie could barely form words. The tight pressure around his cock threatened to end things there and then, but Eddie closed his eyes and breathed, letting the fire and the urge and the want die down to a less immediate threat. But then he opened his eyes, saw how good they looked locked together, the way his darker thatch caught against the lighter brown hairs decorating Steve’s ass, both of them wet from the lube he’d pushed out of his hole, and jesus fucking christ he didn’t want, he needed.

Pulling out slowly and bracing Steve’s hips with a punishing grip was the only warning he gave before snapping forward with a loud grunt, the slap of damp skin a filthy echo in the garage. Steve cried out at the second hard thrust, choked off when Eddie kept going, his hips picking up speed.

“Good?” Eddie gasped. Nodding, Steve uttered a desperate, pleading ‘yes’ that made him fuck into Steve faster.

“Look so fucking hot, Steve,” he started babbling, his voice reedy with pleasure. “God, my handprints on you. Want ‘em to stain, be there forever.” Steve moaned and Eddie felt him tighten around his cock. “Like that, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, I do, I do!”

Eddie leaned forward, draped himself across Steve’s back, and the angle was so fucking good, so much better, and he knew he’d started pounding into Steve’s prostate by the way his gasps had turned into a delicious mix of thin moans and choked out grunts. Fucking him into the car, Eddie let his hands roam. He rucked up the tank top, watched as the last of the dirt on his hands smeared over Steve’s perfect, scarred skin like loving and greedy claw marks. Finding a nipple, he pinched and squeezed until Steve writhed and squirmed.

Then Steve reached up. Buried a hand into Eddie’s hair, grabbed a handful and pulled.

“Oh fuck!” Eddie whined, his hips stuttering, the pain mixing with pleasure and zinging down his spine.

Steve chuckled, unsteady and breathy but so self-satisfied. “Thought about this… for so long, Eddie.”

“Thinkin’ about me so much, sweetheart. I’m honoured. What, hah, what did you think about?” he asked into Steve’s neck, lips catching on his skin, tempting him to lick, to bite. He did, groaning at the taste of salt.

“This. On your couch, by the pool, my bed, anywhere. Been desperate for it.” Steve pulled Eddie closer by his hair while he bounced back on Eddie’s cock as if to prove it. “Or, shit, bending you over that throne of yours and fucking you into it.” Eddie let out a pitchy whimper and Steve cooed in a way that could’ve been condescending but instead made Eddie melt. “But now, now that I know the kinds of fucking sounds you make–t-there, yes–I wanna take you apart. Slow a-and gentle until you’re a mess–”

He cut himself off with a broken moan. Eddie’s hips kept up their brutal pace with short, sharp, hard thrusts, the sound of their sweat-slicked fucking and and the jingle of Eddie’s belt buckle filling the room. His brain was nothing but static. The image was stuck in a loop like the end of a record left to spin. Eddie heard a desperate, animalistic whine and realised it came from himself.

“Close, baby?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded frantically, his lips dragging through beads of sweat dripping down his neck. He’d been holding it off, the fraying coil threatening to snap, his balls aching as they slapped into Steve’s asscheeks.

“You?” Eddie wanted to beg for Steve to be ready. 

“Getting there, just, don’t stop,” Steve gasped.

Twisting, Steve pulled Eddie down to catch his lips in an open-mouthed kiss, fingers tangled in his damp curls. Their tongues met sloppily. Shared panting breaths like trying to inhale each other. Eddie’s thrusts were starting to falter. He was going to shake apart at this rate. Might just shatter when he comes, the pressure and heat and need too much and so fucking perfect.

“Steve,” Eddie whined, and Steve’s eyes met his. “So good to me, Stevie, sweetheart. Feel so wet, fuckin’ beautiful. Nee–mmh–need you, need you to come, please baby, please.”

“Touch me,” Steve said, practically commanded, and Eddie wasted no time.

Spitting in his hand and hoping it was enough, Eddie wrapped his fingers around Steve’s dick, mixing his spit with the shocking amount of precome leaking from the head and spreading it over his length. Christ he was hung. Steve let out a relieved sigh, which Eddie swallowed, smashing their lips together again while fucking hard enough that he rocked Steve into his fist. Steve started making little ah, ah, ah noises. Next time–please let there actually be a next time–he’d worship this cock in the ways he wanted to, the ways Steve deserved, but for now he pumped him mercilessly. Then, then.

Steve seized, a full-body tremble ripping through him as he came, pulsing in Eddie’s hand as he tightened around Eddie’s cock and he was so fucking gorgeous, plush kissed-red lips open in a silent scream, so hot and tight and, and, and–

With a hoarse shout, Eddie came too, rutting helplessly into Steve as he rode out the sparking shockwaves that also had him shaking, the wet sounds between them even more obscene with Eddie’s come slicking the way. He finally stopped when Steve’s whimpers sounded a little too sharp. Breathing heavily, Eddie braced himself on the hood of the car on weak arms to keep himself from collapsing on top of Steve, only letting his head rest in the crook of Steve’s neck where he left one final, achingly gentle love bite.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“Mhmm,” Steve hummed contentedly, leaning his head against Eddie’s, their damp hair sticking together.

“Gonna pull out now, Stevie, okay?” When Steve just nodded lazily, Eddie slowly pulled out, both of them groaning at the feeling. And he couldn’t keep himself from parting Steve’s cheeks to see his come dribble out a little, feeling a great deal of pride and greedy satisfaction at the sight.

“Bit late to ask, but you’re still clean, right? After all those tests for the bat bites?” Steve asked, grimacing when he stood up. He was the perfect picture of debauchery, only wearing his rumpled, practically see-through tank top, socks, and shoes, with his hair a wild mess and sweat still dripping from his forehead. The dirty fingerprints and red marks starting to bloom on his neck and hips were Eddie’s favourite part.

“Yep, only time I’ll ever thank those shady government fuckers for poking me with all those needles.” Eddie grinned at Steve’s tired, but fond, chuckle.

Steve looked at the car with heavy-lidded eyes, then did a double-take. “Shit, I gotta wash that off.” There, on the shiny burgundy hood of the Bimmer, was the white splash of Steve’s come, stark against the dark colour. Eddie started cackling and Steve complained, “Dude, shut up, it’ll ruin the paint!” 

“Gonna wash your car without these, Winnie the Pooh?” Eddie bent down to scoop up Steve’s shorts, dangling them from a finger. He laughed when Steve snatched them back with a glare that barely hid his begrudging smile. While he stepped back into them with a wince, Eddie said, “Interesting choice of clothing to work on your car, by the way.”

“Worked, though, didn’t it?”

“What?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed when Steve smiled innocently and shrugged before he wandered off to get a chamois towel and soap. And it clicked. “You planned this? You lured me in with slutty shorts?”

Tossing the towel up and catching it, Steve’s smile widened into something smug. “Yep.”

“Wait. Is the car even broken?”

Steve just offered Eddie another sly shrug and started wiping his come off the hood.

[bloodscribed]

PROMPTS FROM VARIOUS LITERARY SOURCES.

I have not broken your heart — you have; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.

I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.

Since we're all going to die, it's obvious that when and how don't matter.

When life itself seems lunatic, who knows where the madness lies?

To dream the impossible dream, that is my quest.

When we set the carriage afire, her flesh will be roasted, her bones will be charred: she will die an agonizing death.

What isn't part of ourselves doesn't disturb us.

I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books; I have begun to listen to the teaching my blood whispers to me.

The bird fights its way out of the egg.

I have no right to call myself one who knows.

We who bore the mark might well be considered by the rest of the world as strange, even as insane and dangerous.

I have no idea whether parents can be of help, and I do not blame mine.

At one time I had given much thought to why men were so very rarely capable of living for an ideal. Now I saw that many, no, all men were capable of dying for one.

I will not make a gift of myself, I must be won.

Examine a person closely enough and you know more about him than he does himself.

One cannot apologize for something fundamental, and a child feels and knows this as well and as deeply as any sage.

The tree does not die. It waits.

Fate and character are different names for the same idea.

As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live.

A man sees in the world what he carries in his heart.

All theory is gray, my friend. But forever green is the tree of life.

I am not omniscient, but I know a lot.

Everything transitory is but an image.

One mind is enough for a thousand hands.

Man errs, till he has ceased to strive.

Words are mere sound and smoke, dimming the heavenly light.

But you will never know another's heart, unless you are prepared to give yours too.

The Devil's in the house and can't get out.

Men's wretchedness in soothe I so deplore.

To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's.

It takes something more than intelligence to act intelligently.

Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.

When reason fails, the devil helps!

A hundred suspicions don't make a proof.

The man who has a conscience suffers whilst acknowledging his sin. That is his punishment.

The fear of appearances is the first symptom of impotence.

Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all, and take the suffering on oneself.

Have you ever heard of 'a genius who had been stuffed and preserved'?

Every day I am fated to die.

All the activities of life seem unbearably dull to me and I have renounced them.

 If you would be nice to me, I would gladly die for you this moment.

Having made an utter failure of my life, I found myself one day in the midst of my poverty and wretchedness, thinking about the female companions of my youth.

So, surrender to sleep at last. What a misery, keeping watch through the night, wide awake -- you’ll soon come up from under all your troubles.

Man is the vainest of all creatures that have their being upon earth.

There is a time for making speeches, and a time for going to bed.

For there is nothing better in this world than that man and wife should be of one mind in a house.

I swear by the greatest, grimmest oath that binds the happy gods.

Few sons are the equals of their fathers; most fall short, all too few surpass them.

[pearl-tarotist]

🌸 Messages from your future spouse 🌸

{I have not touched my tarot cards in weeks but lately I have had an urge to make this Pac}. Your future spouse wants to communicate with you about something.

PILE 1

Honey,

I have finally done it...I have surpassed the obstacles and I have reached my goals, but I find myself with palms full of time. The hours that I used to work on them have fallen over me like a weight. What must I do now?

I am content and happy due to my victory but also tired, so I need to rest and recover some energy...but between rests and naps, I can just think of you, my dear future spouse. I can just think about having someone that I can hold in my hands... instead of this void and meaningless empty hand. Something is awaking on me, the need to have someone that I could take care of, someone that I could spend my time with. I have suddenly been dreaming about you...not you as someone with bones and skin but fantasizing about your laugh and your warmness and the softness of your skin when sleeping in the same bed. At my side. I want that close intimacy that one can just get when falling in love.

I have changed because now I want you ...does it sound bad? The idea that I did not want you before? I'm sorry, I don't think I was even aware of this void inside of me while working. I don't know... I just want to hold you and not let you go. I want to kiss your hand and hold your face against my chest... can you listen to my heartbeat?

I am just so ready for this new adventure...not even and adventure if I am being honest. I am just ready for you...and eager too. From one day to other all my focus has changed to your needs. I am ready not just for a relationship but for a life companion...I am ready to bathe you in tenderness and love.

God, I want to fall in love with you so much. Please, come soon. I am waiting for you. Excuse my eagerness and my selfishness but, have you been feeling our connection lately or have you been thinking about me too? Do not say you have not or you will break my heart.

Eagerly waiting for you,

Comments: this man/woman woke up once with an extreme need on their chest. They are full of love and they are waiting for you. I guess this is what they wanted to tell you, that they are ready to commit and take care of you. Some of them want to call you baby, honey, darling, mi amor, amore mio...all type of petnames, but overall they want to pronounce your name so badly but they are unaware of it. They miss you already 😭. I could have keep writing about their feeling for the next 3 days because their feeling are intense but I cannot do that or...should I?

Temperance/ 9 of wands/ 7 of Cups / Wheel of fortune/ 4-3 of wands

PILE 2

I'm confident in us. I have enough trust in the world to know that I will find you, that they will put someone as perfect as you for me. I believe that the world will help us and will put us in the same path and even if they do not...I will search for you. For someone as graceful, nurturing and beautiful as you are.

Lately, things have been going well, I have found some sense of peace and harmony inside of me...I am ready for new adventures, for new people and a new love, that's you bb, ;). I am in an ambitious mode, it feels as if I had the energy to fight against dragons and monsters just to get to you, my princess and my queen. (your fs could call you a princess but see you as a queen).

I do not want to lie, you could think I am a bit of a playboy first as my jokes and flirting could be unoriginal or predictable but I just want you so much that I become of one of those stereotyped knights, just to get to you. What can I do to earn your interest? In those movies the knights were doing incredible conquests, saving kingdoms, being so flirty and sarcastic that the queen can just laugh about it... I want us to became those fantastic and romantic stories, wouldn't you like it?

I mean...you are just like a queen. You are nurturing, clever, beautiful, intuitive...It feels as if you could see everything about me at just one glance with those beautiful eyes of yours and I feel so...naked and seen. Sometimes, I think I'm just not enough so I just want to keep entertaining you with these quests even when it looks dumb from outside. Is it bad that I want you to just keep your attention on me?

I'm persistent, sarcastic and not scared to speak my mind...what a bad combination. I am just lucky and in love with you so much to hope that it is enough.

Always yours to serve you,

The Star/ Knight of Wands/ Queen of cups/pentacles /Knight of Cups/ Strength

PILE 3

From outside it seems that I have everything, as if my life was perfect...I am self-sufficient, I have people to dine with, people to dance with, friends that I can call and family that I spend time with but...I'm not that confident.

Inside of me, I have this recurrent doubt and insecurity....I am still young, I am still learning...I don't want to keep myself into the jail of the known. It seems foolish to some to change my lifestyle and comfortable routine when for some it is to everything they aspire to in life, but is it really that good?

I don't know if the people I involve myself with are the best. Are they trustworthy? Generous? Good people? I don't know.

That's why I think about you, my little ghost, you are present with me when I think about the future. I know we will be good to each other, we both will be young, we will learn about everything with time, patience and love. I have no doubts that we will grow wealthy, healthy and clever.

I think I am allowed to dream when I feel so much for us. Isn't it good that we will grow together and stablish our own bases? We won't copy others, we will be irreversibly us. And that's why I appreciate you so much.

I love you, take care.

10 of Wands/ 9 of Swords/The Moon/ page and knight of pentacles

This reading belongs to @pearl-tarotist.

[kamesama]

the character ai got my thoughts running. anyway, i've been on a tōji brainrot for a while soooo. enjoy this slow-burn. note: fem! reader; some suggestive moments but nothing n/sfw.

arranged marriage with zenin tōji ( a slow-burn )

it's neither of you being overjoyed by the prospect. puppets to your families, you found yourselves in a dead end. sure, you could have dug and crawled your way out of it, but it was easier to bite your cheeks and nod your heads. you fill your mouths up all the way to the roof, to the back of your teeth and clench your jaws until the time comes to break that thick silence between just the two of you.

the wedding night is everything save for the typical fantasy involving butterflies-in-your-gut kind of intimacy, joyous smiles, happy tears and sweet promises that chain you for life. there is none of that. there is only silence, so heavy that it sits on your shoulders and an unimpressed look on your faces as irritation eats you up.

tōji scoffs and scowls, but he doesn't care. he has no interest in tending to a spouse he didn't choose, let alone one that was handpicked solely to spite him and stomp on his pride. his voice is flat, his shoulders relaxed and his gaze indifferent. he doesn't love you, and he is not going to act like he does. he might just break the spiteful silence with a comment of, well, this sucks, doesn't it, because he knows that you're not beaming with joy, either.

it's not sharing the bed, or sleeping back-to-back with a pillow wall between the two of you. it's complaining about the snoring, tossing and turning, or sleeping so damn quietly that one could think they're sharing a bed with a fresh corpse. it's getting irritated with the way tōji's toothpaste drips into the sink never to be washed off the smooth surface, or with the clothes draped over the chair and mattress. it's the bite in your voice and furrow of tōji's brows as the skin right beneath his eye twitches.

it takes time. god, it takes time. but eventually, there comes a ritual of sitting in the living room with a cup of hot beverage in front of you, or a bowl of instant noodles with hard-boiled eggs on top. tōji's eyes boring through the plot of whatever tv show you occupied yourself with before you converse about the most mundane things with bitter smiles, lamenting your fates underneath a breath of sarcasm. conversations drag themselves through transformation into something deeper, more sincere and one day both of you might just laugh cordially. it's like having a weirdly close friend at home, a roommate that you don't know how to look at rather than a spouse, but soon enough you chatter about your high school crush, tōji's type of woman and whether or not lacy lingerie looks better than smooth. soon enough you have your fair share of inside jokes and soon enough you realise that you share a favourite candy.

it's using one another to scratch that itch, to satiate that desire, to bite one another's lips out of pure utter frustration and lust. you still fall asleep back-to-back, but at least you got something out of it; a hickey. a high. a hint of relief as that tension evaporates from your muscles before your head smashes into the pillow and fatigue overwhelms you.

or it's practicing small touches that feel more awkward than a teenager's first kiss. starting to rest your cheek against tōji's shoulder when you watch a movie. tōji leaning in just a little too close to the side of your face while you cook something or tend to your hobbies. putting your cold hand in his pocket while you stroll as if it's the most natural thing to do, and your heart just barely skipping a beat. it's gentle pondering over little things; you asking about his scar as you dare trace your digit across the edge of his lip and him commenting about your mole in the most curious of places.

having a wife at home starts to sink in into tōji's mind and, regardless of how much he cannot stand your collection of skin-care products conquering the shelf in the bathroom, or how much your attitude irks him from time to time, his eyes will pierce and cut through whoever looks at you the wrong way or dares to utter anything tasteless about how you walk your walk or talk your talk. the word 'wife' drips off his tongue with such intensity that it paints him as the most devoted man to have walked upon the face of the earth.

likewise, a small smile seems to start gracing your lips as the word 'husband' leaves your mouth, no longer coated in some sense of loathing and rather resembling the way schoolgirls talk about their sweethearts with a dose of virginal shyness. just a little bit.

the ups and downs are heavy and intense, and the fingers your families dip into your life doesn't help in extinguishing any flames of irritation and displeasure. it's a process to talk things through and step over ego and pride, but you've also become one another's routine at this point. the bed feels a little too empty without another person on the opposite side of the pillow barrier. you might as well join hands and live to spite the zenins and all others. it's a promise made in the middle of the night, under the doorframe to the bedroom.

it's slowly but surely coming to tolerate one another, despite the clothes still hanging over the chair and the toothpaste still sticking to the sink. it's learning that tōji seems to melt as soon as his head is in your lap and your fingers in his hair, or that you love that specific type of hug that feels just right. it's becoming friends and lovers, it's fuelling the passion with those embers of frustration that never seems to fully leave you, it's removing the pillow between the two of you so that you can talk about little nothings and whisper how you may just try to find life's meaning together, along the way.

thank you for reading!

— kamesama.

[hughiecampbelle]

How Cruel Is That? (Shiv Roy x Fem!Reader Oneshot)

Character/s: Shiv

Word Count: 1,258

Inspired By: Good Luck, Babe! - Chappell Roan

Requested: Not requested, but taken from the prompt list anyways :) tease + wedding ring

A/N: Alternatively titled So Hot You're Hurting My Feelings lol. Do I love Shiv? Of course. Am I here to show my appreciation for her with the help of Chappell Roan? Also of course :P Kinda on a roll with fics so don't be afraid to request!!! The angstier the better! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Succession Masterlist / REQUESTS ARE OPEN

When you look at her, you know exactly how the night will play out. It will be poetic. It will be Shakespearean. It will be everything you could have ever wanted. Your wedding ring will find its place on the nightstand. It will wait, patiently, quietly, until you’ve decided you’ve had enough of this fantastic world and decide to return to reality. The living. It slips back on without a fight, without resentment, and you consider yourself lucky. One day, maybe soon, maybe not, you imagine your ring refusing your finger, as if it knows what you’ve done, as if it will take the a moral high ground. It will break out in hives at the very thought of you. It will whisper everything it has seen to the man you promised yourself to, and your father, and perhaps even her father. It will all come crashing down. Though, a small part of you, too small to name, dreams of that day. With nothing left, no one tied to you by vows or blood or name, you could finally choose. Not the way you did roses or hyacinths, cream or egg shell, but truly, really choose a life for yourself. One worth every sacrifice, every heartbreak, every night spent as his wife. 

Her dress will fall to the floor. She will step out of her heels. Her hair, her makeup, all of it the very essence of perfection. Impeccable. In these moments, you’re seventeen all over again. Your pulse racing, heat rising to your face, questioning if this is happening as it has happened so many years since. You’re hidden in the back of the summer house, your skin hot from the sun and sea. You try to kiss each and every one of her freckles. You’re trying not to laugh too loud on her flowery bed, the mattress soft. It leaves the two of you sinking into one another. You’re as still as possible, pressed together beneath the bushes in the garden, grass prickling into your back. Even the moonlight cannot conceal what you two have been doing. Between kisses she will smile and giggle (a sound that makes your very insides melt) and ask you if you’re alright. You sense that she, too, has been taken back. All those times you should have been caught. All those times you weren’t. When you can find your voice, you promise you’re better than that. You’ll find yourself grabbing at her, unable to touch enough of her, unable to get enough of her. You thank God for her, for this moment, never sure you will get to do this again. You must live as if this is the very last time. You must savor every moment.

Her perfume, always the same scent, has become a comfort, an aphrodisiac. Licorice, bitter, and woods, natural, and her. All of her. You never liked his cologne. It was never right. You tried to find one that smelled of her, that resembled her, but nothing could substitute. Nothing could compare. Her voice is icy, her words frozen over, and you wish every night for hypothermia. She leaves her ring on. It has become a recent accessory, a new staple, though she’s made it clear it changes nothing about your dynamic. Still, she leaves it on. You catch yourself eyeing it when it catches the light. She doesn’t have a routine as you do, an inner reasoning, a way to compartmentalize. There is no division of worlds. In her life, there is him and there is you. In yours, there is him or there is her. A decision you still have not made. You are not her forbidden fruit as she is yours. She does not separate you and him. She has always loved you. She has only recently started to love him. You hope, foolishly of course, her love for you is greater than his. You know she is much more important to you than your husband ever will be. He is an obligation, a duty, a responsibility. She is frivolity. She is passion and joy and love. True love. Not just the empty sentence you find yourself reciting back to him. This is more than a couple of silly letters taped together haphazardly, forced between your teeth so that you might later gag them up when the time is right. No, this is not that. 

For now, you’ll have to wait. For now, all you have are your memories, your hopes of the future, all your expectations of tonight. For now, you must be patient. Across the room, you keep an eye on her. You wait for the right moment. It comes. She moves, so do you. You turn away from him, trying not to look at her directly as you both make your way to the bar. She is the sun and you hope, you pray, you might fly too close. It is worth being burned. It is worth setting your life aflame. He doesn’t take notice. He never does. Instead, he closes the gap in the circle, acclimating to a conversation (a life) without his wife. You wonder if he would even miss you. Sure, the beginning would be rough. He would have to fend for himself. But he can hire help. He won’t have to lift a finger. The only catch is that he’d be going to bed alone. He’d manage. He always does. You take note that her husband doesn’t notice her lack of presence. You would, you want to cry. You would notice everything about her. You bite your tongue. Where there are eyes, there are lips. You stand beside her, asking for another drink, leaving enough space between you. She fills the gap. Her arm falls by your side. Pathetically, you reach out just a little, the tips of your fingers touching hers. She remains stoic, even bored looking, but you can feel her hand wrap itself around yours. She squeezes it. Once. Twice. Three times. You breathe a sigh of relief. Sometimes you find yourself questioning if any of it was real. Was that a stolen glance? Is she following you? Is her hand really on your thigh under the table? You wonder if it’s all in your head: a singular grand delusion, an epic between you and the idea of her. This, though, reminds you it’s real and so is she. Shiv looks at you for a second, less than, and flashes a knowing smile, before letting go and grabbing her glass. 

She leaves you gasping for air, heart racing, palms sweating. She doesn’t look back, she doesn’t check on you, but she doesn’t need to. Her smile said it all. It spoke every word, every reassurance, you needed to hear. She’s been waiting for you. She will wait for you, tonight, in a room between yours and hers. She will find you. She will undress you. And you will become young again. Naive, and blushing, and full of nervousness. You will be hers and she will be yours. It told you to go back to your husband, to be doting and affectionate, but to remember that she awaits you. She always will. It isn’t right. You know this, you’re no fool. Cheating on him with the woman you love. But nothing in this world is right or fair or just. If it was, you would have ended up with her instead. You would have been her wife, not his. But you’re not. You don’t think you ever will be. How cruel is that?

[newskin4theoldceremony]

DARKNESS AT THE BREAK OF NOON SHADOWS EVEN THE SILVER SPOON THE HANDMADE BLADE THE CHILDS BALLON ECLIPSE BOTH THE SUN AND MOON TO UNDERSRAND YOU KNOW TOO SOON THERE IS NOW SENSE IN TRYING POINTED THREATS THEY BLUFF WITH SCORN SUICIDE REMARKS ARE TORN FROM THE FOOLS GOLD MOUTHPIECE THE HOLLOW HORN PLAYS WASTED WORDS PROVES TO WARN THAT HE NOT BUSY BEING BORN IS BUSY DYING TEMPTATIONS PAGE FLIES OUT THE DOOR YOU FOLLOW FIND YOURSELF AT WAR WATCH WATERFALLS OF PITY WAR YOU FEEL TO MOAN BUT UNLIKE BEFORE YOU’D DISCOVER THAT YOU’D JUST BE ONE MORE PERSON CRYING SO DON’T FEAR IF YOU HEAR A FORIEGN SOUND TO YOUR EAR ITS ALRIGHT MA I’M ONLY SIGHING AS SOME WARN VICTORY SOME DOWNFALL PRIVATE REASONS GREAT OR SMALL CAN BE SEEN IN THE EYES OF THOSE WHO CALL THAT MAKE ALL THAT SHOULD BE KILLED TO CRAWL WHILE OTHERS SAY DON’T HATE NOTHING AT ALL EXCEPT HATRED DISILLUSIONED WORDS LIKE BULLETS BARK AS HUMAN GODS AIM FOR THEIR MARK MAKE EVERYTHING FROM TOY GUNS THAT SPARK TO FLESH COLORED CHRISTS THAT GLOW IN THE DARK IT’S EASY TO SEE WITHOUT LOOKING TO FAR THAT NOT MUCH IS REALLY SACRED WHILE PREACHERS PREACH OF EVEIL FATES TEACHERS TEACH THAT KNOWLEDGE WAITS CAN LEAD TO HUNDRED DOLLAR PLATES GOODNESS HIDES BEHIND ITS GATES BUT EVEN THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES SOMETIMES MUST HAVE TO STAND NAKED AND ALTHOUGH THE RULES OF THE ROAD HAVE BEEN LODGED ITS ONLY PEOPLES GAMES YOU GOT TO DODGE AND ITS ALRIGHT MA I CAN MAKE IT ADVERTISING SIGNS THAT CON YOU INTO THINKING YOURE THE ONE THAT CAN DO WHATS NEVER BEEN DONE THAT CAN WIN WHATS NEVER BEEN WON MEANWHILE LIFE OUTSIDE GOES ON ALL AROUND YOU YOU LOSE YOURSELF YOU REAPPEAR YOU SUDDENLY FIND YOUVE GOT NOTHING TO FEAR ALONE YOU STAND WITH NOBODY NEAR WHEN A TREMBLING DISTANT VOICE UNCLEAR STARTLES YOUR SLEEPING EARS TO HEAR THAT SOMEBODY THINKS THEY REALLY FOUND YOU A QUESTION IN YOUR NERVES IS LIT YET YOU KNOW THERE IS NO ANSWER FIT TO SATISFY ENSURE YOU NOT TO QUIT TO KEEP IT IN YOUR MIND AND NOT FORGET THAT IT IS NOT HE OR SHE OR THEM OR IT THAT YOU BELING TO BUT THOUGH THE MASTERS MAKE THE RULES FOR THE WISE MEN AND THE FOOLS I GOT NOTHING MA TO LIVE UP TO FOR THEM THEY MUST OBEY AUTHORITY THAT THEY DO NOT RESPECT IN ANY DEGREE WHO DESPISE THEIR JOBS THEIR DESTINY SPEAK JEALOUSY OF THEM THAT ARE FREE DO WHAT THEY DO JUST TO BE NOTHING MORE THAN SOMETHING THEY INVEST IN WHILE SOME ON PRINCIPLES BAPTIZED TO STRICT PARTY PLATFORM TIES SOCAIL CLUBS IN DRAG DISGUISE OUTSIDERS THEY CAN FREELY CRITICIZE TELL NOTHING BUT WHK TO IDOLIZE AND SAY GOD BLESS HIM WHILE ONE WHO SINGS WITH HIS TONGUE ON FIRE GARGLES IN THE RAT RACE CHOIR BENT OUT OF SHAPE FROM SOCIETYS PLIERS CARES NOT TO COME UP ANY HIGHER BUT RATHER GET YOU DOWN IN THE HOLE THAT HES IN BUT I MEAN NO HARM NOR PUT FAULT ON ANYONE THAT LIVES IN A VAULT BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IF I CAN PLEASE HIM OLD LADY JUDGES WATCH PEOPLE IN PAIRS LIMITED IN SEX THEY DARE TO PUSH FAKE MORAL INSULT AND STARE WHILE MONEY DOESNT TALK IT SWEARS OBSCENITY WHO REALLY CARES PROPAGANDA ALL IS PHONY WHILE THEM THAT DEFEND WHAT THEY CANNOT SEE WITH KILLERS PRIDE SECURITY IT BLOWS THE MIND MOST BITTERLY FOR THEM THAT THINK DEATH’S HONESTY WON’T FALL UPON ‘EM NATURALLY LIFE SOMETIMES MUST GET LONELY MY EYES COLLIDE HEAD ON WITH STUFFED GRAVEYARDS FALSE GOALS I SCUFF AT PETTINESS WHICH PLAYS SO ROUGH WALKED UPSIDE DOWN INSIDE HANDCUFFS KICK MY LEGS TO CRASH IT OFF SAY OKAY I’VE HADE ENOUGH WHAT ELSE CAN YOU SHOW ME AND IF MY THOUGHT DREAMS CAN BE SEEN THEYD PROBABLY PUT MY HEAD IN A GUILLOTINE

BUT ITS ALRIGHT MA IT’S LIFE AND LIFE ONLY

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Asmodeus, Lord of all Hells

I think I know what may be happening....You’re trying to atone me, and I didn’t do anything wrong...You want to know what I’ve always hated about mortals? why I spit on your forgiveness, why I loathe your redemption? To reach a hand down to somebody they need to be beneath you,

And I’m Beneath Nobody.

Brennan Lee Mulligan as Asmodeus for Exandria Unlimited: Calamity

@pikablob​ was asking about my ideas on devils and mentioned Asmodeus in the process, and while I’ve already done a monster’s reimagined on devils, I figured it was a good opportunity to talk about my take on the biggest of big bads. To summarize, I like to go back to the mythological roots of devils less as agents of a universal evil but as individual manifestations of judgment, looking to test or punish mortals for their failings. This ( along with Brennan’s showstopping performance in calamity) gave me the idea of an Asmodeus as the ultimate critic of mortalkind, an entity that can see all of our flaws and nothing of our virtues.

TLDR:  There are many evil gods, wicked things that preside over cruelty and misfortune in all its forms, but there are few that would claim to be the god of evil itself. Though to hear the lord of all hells tell it, there is nothing touched by mortals that is NOT evil: no act that is not in some way rooted in self interest, no moment of self determination that is not a transgression, no soul that is not some way corrupted. To allow the Father of Sin into your heart is to accept that people are fundamentally wicked creatures deserving of punishment, and that punishment cannot come soon enough.

Bio: Ruling from the lowest depths of the pit, Asmodeus sits a throne surveying an empire built on torture and damnation and deems it insufficient. There is evil in the multiverse and that evil is called mortals, things gifted with the tiniest spark of life who every day choose the wickedness of existence. His purpose is  to be the scourge that drives the animal towards the slaughterhouse, to take hold of mortal life and shape it into useful purpose, with the only useful purpose being the ultimate destruction of all wicked things

The hypocracy of being an evil god punishing evil does not for a moment shake Asmodeus. Spirits cannot choose their nature, nor can animals, but mortals which live in the intersection choose to be evil every day, and worse yet, have the capability to choosing evil at any time. In spite of his divine status, and in many ways because of it, Asmodeus is actually incapable of perceiving good in mortals, believing that good intentions or earnest affection are yet more lies and hasty justifications that mortals buffer themselves with to excuse their faults and selfish action. None can then judge the atrocities he commits because none are without sin, even if to find that sin he needs to peel back layers of causality and unconscious feelings to find a thread of wrongdoing. 

To purge the universe of the blight of mortals Asmodeus cultivates power and fear: Power in the form of legions of devils and devoted servants who’s hateful hearts he feeds like a furnace, fear in the form of agents which sow division in mortal hearts and a myriad of private hells filled with infinite forms of torment.

Swear to serve Asmodeus, say his mouthpieces, and you will be spared the infinite torment when the boot on your neck breaks through to your spine, or when his hordes come to put your home to the torch.  Give up on the falsehoods of hope, love, and kindness,  visit punishment on others and you may be rewarded for your service

Behind the scenes: I’ve talked quite a lot about how d&d uses the idea of objective evil as a staple of its worldbuilding, and how in doing so it ends up falling face first into pro genocide rhetoric. In attempting to make badguys that the party is 1000% justified in killing on sight it ends up stumbling into some very fucked up thought experements.    Monsters in vanilla d&d arn’t just evil because they do bad things, but they do bad things because they are inherently evil:  They pillage, they enslave, they despoil, not because these things benefit them ( as it invariably gets them killed by adventurers) but because these acts serve as an outlet for their wicked natures.

If our heroes’ enemies are fundamentally evil, then any action which opposes them must be good, and any pillaging, enslaving, or despoiling the party does can be excused provided the targets belong to the designated ingroup. This is almost identical to the reasoning that was used by crusaders, conquistadors, slave owners, and fascists, and what is now being used by the evangelical to deny people rights and life-saving aid to this day.

What I wanted with Asmodeus was an entity that looked at the party like a group of murderhobos look at an orc: an ugly brutish thing that is only useful in so far as its suffering and death can benefit them.  Maybe it’ll be funny if they make it beg for its life. The party feel they’re justified in this because they know the orc is objectively evil ( because the books said so), just like Asmodeus is justified in plucking the souls from mortals and making them suffer for eternity because he knows, in his flawed omniscience, that they are deserving of it.

Signs: The sounds of tortured souls wailing from below, symbols of power glowing red hot, the manifestations of lesser devils.

Symbols: A five pointed star made of jagged metal, a black throne or crown atop numerous bodies.

[the-kr8tor]

Part two of older Hobie! x Older reader:

Warning, I'm mean.

There are pictures of you all over, he smiles as he recognizes you through all of them. You're so beautiful to him, even as you aged you hadn't lost any beauty. Only getting more mature and always looking back at him with love and a kindness he can't begin to describe, a kindness he hadn't had most of his life. The only thing he had been awarded for living a tough life had been you, and what a reward you were.

He walked alongside the small room, the flowers smelled great. They were your favourite, he recognized them just at the scent even if he forgets the name. He starts to look around the room, wondering if you'll come out soon. Where were you? Where was his dove? He needs to tell you about today, how lovely everything is. He wanted to give you a kiss and an I love you. He couldn't hold your hand as well as he used to, his hands now shaking a bit but he'd still find every way to do it.

He walks a bit closer, wondering why the room is empty exception from him. He looks at the box in front of him, standing over it with a curiosity he's always had. He freezes and looks down at you, how pretty you looked, he chokes back sobs as he recognizes you, his mind fuzzy. Where is he.

You look so old now, beautiful but tired. He rests his hand on your cold face as tears flow down his face, seeping into his wrinkles.

"When'd you get 'ere dove? Oh love...when'd you die? Who put you 'ere...that ain't right. This isn't right at all"

He remembers you breathing and alive, but now he isn't so sure anymore. When had your skin grown cold, when had the blood stop flowing through you, when had your eyes went extinct? Had he been there? He can't recall and he can only cry at the sight, his heart clenching as he holds a shaky hand over his heart.

He had grown old without you, actually you had grown old together, not that he remembered currently. He could only mourn the loss of his life, the loss of his past, present and future. All the flowers in the world couldn't hold a candle to you even when you were encircled with them. Above you stands a plaque, your name, when and how you died. He stares at it in confusion, behind the door silent tears fall as three younger adults watch their father. All of them mourn two things that day: your loss and your Hobie's loss. Two love birds who can no longer sing and fly together. One now long departed and left the other to drift in the deep and quiet halls of memory.

His tears fall into the coffin, he doesn't remember who else is meant to be there but why is the room so empty. He feels it's unjust, you would've deserved to be loved. Where are all your friends? Your family, his family? He cries as his brain asks itself the same question over and over again, failing to break he cycle with his feeble memory. Before he feels an arm wrap around his own, guiding him outside. They seem kind, his mind drifts to how you used to do the same. Oh where you again? You must be at home, that's right, you were always at home. The place he knew and loved, because it had you in it. He smiles, forgetting how to cry and what he's lost as he thinks of what he thinks awaits for him back home. The person holding his arm sobbing as they wipe away their tears, if only their dad recognized them. To him home had been you, so where would he go now. His smile is accompanied by the pain he cannot show as his kid which he doesn't recognize as leads them to his car. What had been his car. It smells like you, how wonderful. Your perfume lingers, he can't wait to go back home and tell you about his day.

-🪦 NOW. YOU A S K E D. and I am providing, so shoo no witch hunt 😚/j

OH MY FUCKING GOD AND HERE I THOUGHT IT WOULDN'T BE THAT SAD 😭😭😭

Funny enough (it's not) when one bird from a pair of lovebirds die, one soon follows so with that in mind I shall jump off a cliff brb

THE LAST FUCKING LINE GAHHHHHHH PUNCHING A WALL TO FEEL MANLY AGAIN

[jackassbrainrot]

was scrolling through your blog and this fic vision came to me: giving ryan a prison tattoo in your bedroom circa 97-98

that needle won't hurt you [dunn x gn!reader]

desc: giving your highschool best friend ryan a tattoo, what could go wrong?

a/n: thank u so so much for this request, it was probably my fav thing to write yet. also I envisioned this as like his 18th birthday I just did not fit it in anywhere in the story. cannot stress this enough do Not try this at home, ryan and reader don't do one thing right here

warnings: fluff and humor, swearing, drinking, smoking, just really dumb decisions

word count: 474

"Stop acting like a little bitch, I haven't even touched you!" You yell at your best friend who's sitting on the floor of your room across from you, squirming nervously, holding his cigarette like a lifeline.

"Well maybe, if you didn't look so unsure, I wouldn't be terrified of you touching me with that thing!" He points at the little homemade tattoo machine clutched between your fingers. You had already set everything up, stencil ready to be put on his shoulder, the ink cap on your nightstand patiently waiting for you to dip the needle into it, Ryan just needed to get over himself and let you do it.

"God, just give me your lighter." You groan, snatching it from his shaky fingers and burning the needle with it. "See, now it's sterile, can we get on with it now?" You glare at him with impatient eyes, throwing the lighter on your nightstand.

"Fine." He says reluctantly, turning his back to you. You pick up the little bottle of rubbing alcohol sitting next to you and clean the area where the stencil will go. The little star you drew minutes ago transfers to his skin perfectly as you hear a beer can tab crack. "If I'm gonna die from AIDS or some shit, I want to die doing what I love." He says before you even ask anything.

Picking up the little machine, you burn it again for good measure, and you see Ryan's hand come up over his shoulder, signaling for you to hand him the lighter. You roll your eyes, handing the lighter to him and passing over the needle with a bit of rubbing alcohol, just in case.

As you turn on the machine, the light buzzing and your free hand coming down to hold him in place is the only warning Ryan gets before the needle goes into his skin. He twitches for a moment, almost making you mess up, but soon enough his body relaxes, as much as it can with a makeshift tattoo machine repeatedly stabbing into his shoulder.

You feel your arm going sore, stopping for a moment to give both of you a short break. You rest your chin on his other shoulder, your chest pressing against his back, making sure to avoid the half done tattoo. He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and presses it to your lips, letting you take a drag before going back to work.

Connecting the last two lines, you finally finish the little work of art, wiping the blood and excess ink off before falling back against your bed. Ryan turns to finally look at it and he turns to you, trying to hide the smile threatening to spread over his face but his eyes betray him as he turns to look at you.

"That's a haggard ass tattoo."

[moon4nge1]

- Kenma Kozume Headcanons!!

✧ ☽ ✧

His Features/Expressions!

⤻ bored/uninterested look -Kenma honestly doesn’t mean to look like he’s not interested, but it’s just how he is. Maybe talk about something cool for once? (I’m pretty sure this is canon but :^)

⤻ soft hair! -this mans hair is so soft and fluffy; on some days! Rubbing you hands though it, especially after it’s brushed, is just heaven!

⤻ eye bags -I swear this boy will always have these. He’s always staying up to play a new game that just dropped, or just playing games in general.

⤻ has an upside down smile!!! -CANNOT TELL ME OTHERWISE!! Like when a joke is actually funny, the corner of his mouth will start to turn downward as he smiles! His hand soon covers it because he’s a little insecure about it! But you’ve shown his how much you love his smile over and over again! Only his close friends know of this!

⤻ sharp canines -he is also insecure about these! If he smiles hard enough, they’ll peak through a little! His friends find it cute though, it’s like he’s actually a cat! He’s considered having them shaven down, put you’ve shown so much love to them, he decided not to!

His Career! (Timeskip!Kenma ↧)

⤻ often has his friends ft. In streams! -most shown is Kuroo, along with Hinata; but only when he’s on break from volleyball! He is also open for Kuroo to add Bokuto, when he has time off of volleyball. Kenma has grown to enjoy the beaming presence of him!

⤻ does a lot of donation streams! -Kenma is very supportive when it comes to a lot of things! He does once a month cancer streams, if a tragic accident happened he’ll do a 24 hour stream, just a lot of things like that! One of his viewers once put in chat that they were struggling and admired what he was doing, he saw it, and then donated every dollar he made in that stream to that viewer!

⤻ has a yt. dedicated to video games! -on this account, Kenma will put a lot of his opinion on games he has played! It doesn’t matter if it’s good or bad, he’s going to say it. His bio is, “leave if you get butthurt” He once dissed a company’s game, and they had lost majority of their players. He then had to make a public announcement that “his opinion shouldn’t make you stop playing a game”; even if he had previously stated ‘never play his god awful game’

Lover Boy!

⤻ protective!! -he will let you appear when he’s on steam, but won’t disclose your face or any of your personal information, other than your name. Even when he’s out in public, he’ll shield you from a surprise fan! He’s not ashamed, just doesn’t want you to get hurt!! “Kitten you know I love you, I’m just scared that they’ll get to you. I need you with me and I won’t have a stranger with a screen break is apart. Okay?” He reassuringly whispered to you as he pulled you in a tight embrace.

⤻ cuddly -he can be on stream and still call you in to cuddle! Chat goes crazy when you sit down on his lap, your arms wrapped around him as you bury your face in his neck. All during the stream he’ll be talking to you, and chat can’t help but fall more in love with the couple! “Yes guys you’ll meet her soon, maybe when she’s Mrs.Kozume” he whispered to chat when you fell asleep. Let’s just say people died Kenma.

⤻ post you all the time!!! -just because he doesn’t want his fans to know you personally, doesn’t mean he wants you hidden! Every post of his, includes you. He’ll brag about you on his alt account, and on main when it’s big events like an anniversary or birthday! He wants to make sure you know he loves you dearly!

⤻ “kitten” -this pet name started back in Highschool! You had joined the volleyball team as their manager! He didn’t stay calling you this, it just accidentally rolled off his tongue one day. Trust right after he ran away to hide in the locker rooms. He missed practice that day and wouldn’t leave until Kuroo assured him that y/n was long gone.

⤻ takes chat advice! -he’ll have steams that are dedicated to his relationship! The title being ��need help [y/n related!!]” chat immediately knows what’s up and starts to flood his chat with ideas for dates. He tries to keep this a secret from you, but clips of his stream will surface on your page! “Alright chat this is serious! I need a place to take y/n to!” He’ll focus intently on chat, agreeing once and while with a viewer on a place.

©moon4nge1 - please do not steal, copy, or repost on any other platforms without my permission!

✧ ☽ ✧ ps. I had accidentally deleted my account! So I’m having to rewrite everything! If you had already saw this, then I would appreciate it if you liked it again! T-T

[floxtingdrm]

𝘼𝙡𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙮𝙢𝙞𝙖

(N): the inability to express your feelings.

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Angst

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Furina de Fontaine

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: One Shot

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: they/them

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Conflicted of the way she's supposed to feel, what path of loss should she take, how can she be like you? Tell her, Creator of Teyvat.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Violence, Sagau AU themes, spoilers for Fontaine Archon quest storylines. This story is only a second branch linked to the Sagau Au that I'm working on and is not the main one, there will be a very huge difference compared to the one I'm working on.

It’s like you're underwater… the world quietly embraces you as you fell from the stars, did you remember anything as the sound of a loud splash occurs and attracts the unsuspecting creatures? How could you when you’re already too busy falling asleep at the bottom of a lake? 

Ah… could the creator not hear the gentle song of joy that their creations are singing? The return of such a noble and loving soul to its children, this could only mean hope and prosperity towards the creatures who have always prayed for their return.

(Y/n), you who sank to the bottom of the lake unable to remember who you were before coming to this land, can you face them? Your creations who do not even remember your face, except for the guiding voice you’ve always been towards your vessels, resent you for leaving for so long. 

The waters which surround your injured and sleeping figure brings you the tales and troubles of what happened while you were away, though you already know these tales haven’t you? 

A blond traveler and their silver companion walked on the soil of Teyvat, they who claimed to have been your vessels, your apostles. Though their name brings hopes and joy to those who are “humans”, just the mere thought of them to any other creature stikes fear and terror to the heart of their beings.

“They’re approaching Fontaine soon…” You opened your eyes slowly finding yourself surrounded by fishes and curious creatures.

“It will be a while before they finish their involvement with Sumeru..” Should we get to know you a bit more? But then again you have no time to think for all that’s on your mind right now was finding a safe spot to hide before the blond traveler finds you.

“You’ll find a safe spot for me to hide right? I trust you all.” The water current gently pushes you away, you don’t know where in Fontaine are you right now, but you definitely aren’t close to the Fortress of Meropide.

The trail of red blood, your trail which bleeds life into Teyvat remains to be un-tampered. The waters of teyvat cannot heal you nor can anything else if anything, for a god’s creation cannot heal them. You can’t feel pain however since your body is as fragile as a human’s obviously you’d get hurt, as gentle as the skies tried when first delivering you into Teyvat it still could not be gentle enough and hurt you.

Truly you do not understand the connection between you and the land of Teyvat, because if you did then maybe you would have understood why, Teyvat no longer dreams of your return for so long…

Somewhere else…

Bored figure above the crowd, what are you looking for in the crowds of peasants and fools? She was a noble in every way yet so flawed and faulted, the perfect human, of course she cared about those voices who talked about her every move.

It’s the weight of the crown she’s wearing right? Isn’t she tired of pleasing them? The people who could stare at her in awe and contempt, doesn’t she ever feel like running away from her problems?

“Is it worth it?” The whispers in her head render her useless, relying on its encouragement to continue walking for the day.

“This isn’t how you’re supposed to smile, fix those corners” mental images began appearing, how many days has it been since she stood in front of this faulty mirror?

Perhaps she’s gonna break under all this pressure, but this eternal act must never fall, no matter what extend this stage forever as she continue to dance and play for their love, perhaps it wasn’t even their love she was looking for but the approval of a figure she doesn’t even know of.

‘I can’t hear anything, I don’t know anything’ she’s denying it again, denying the fact she knows what’s gonna happen next. 

‘Oh Creator of all creatures, can you at least give me peace of mind as the years have gone by? I wish for oneday… where I have no need to be the ‘Hydro Archon’ no more’ However no matter how strong or sincere the wish is, even Furina knows that the Creator has long gone from Teyvat’s memories… because of that incident. 

“Lady Furina there is something we think you’d like to see.” a cold and strange figure behind the door of her study snapping her away from her daydream, Furina coughed and returned to her ‘god’ demeanor.

“Very well then, enter.” A gentlemen in dark colored clothing, she remembered his father and the ones before him… ah, so it’s something related to the rising sea levels matter. 

“Lady Furina, the matter is that…” 

Oh? How interesting… a prophecy, long ago but not too long after the prophecy that the people of Fontaine shall dissolve into the sea and the Archon shall be left crying on her throne, a prophecy which had been mysteriously erased from the people’s memory.

A star bright enough to be mistaken for the sun shall fall in Teyvat’s embrace, carrying with it the remnants of the past and the answers to the future, when the waters rise and the creatures dance, the star shall leave and a trail of blood shall follow where it goes.

Furina remembered that prophecy long ago, the one prophecy which no longer seemed to be remembered by anyone else but her it seems, even Neuvillette does not understand of the said prophecy she talks about oh so often, eventually Furina kept this prophecy to herself and let the world seemingly forget of it’s existence all together. 

However the news that this informant has brought her… this one truly is fulfilling the first part of the prophecy, a bright shinning light had been spotted across the night sky not too long ago, just like that same light 500 years ago. However not knowing whether this could mean sometime interesting or important Furina decided to dismiss the informant temporarily after getting information of the location where the star was said to have landed.

The water levels are rising faster after that star had landed, it might seemed like useless worry but Furina is afraid, the prophecy never truly mentioned what would become of the star and only the result of their appearance to Teyvat. Trails of blood… should she start looking into this dangerous matter?

“I don’t know what to do anymore… not only do I have to solve my prophecy now I am at risk with another one.” She stared at the floor tired and devastated, how does she compare between threats? The one that the people know of or the one that has been erased from Teyvat’s very memory?

Your mission... what plans did you have when you first arrived in Teyvat? You weren't sure however you did sense a sort of familiarity towards the land and it's creatures, you have yet to meet anyone else such as the "archons" or inhabitants of Teyvat.

"To take responsibility... but this was never your realm."

"It was still my mistake"

"You have until ?̴̨̩̘̗̪̯̅͆̽̆?̴͙̖̉͊̓̈͗̏͆̐̕͝?̷̹̞̻̫͚̝̭̮̫̏̒̑͂͗?̷̖̠̖͙͉̝̠̇ to solve it"

Ah, a flash of memory strikes you, your mind hurts as it tries to remember why and how you ended up here in the first place, it seemed you were the one who prevented yourself from remembering your purpose here.

Bandaging yourself up from the minor wounds you had from falling earlier you felt the water currents try to push and play around with your figure, though not a god, you certainly aren't some mortal being, something similar to a Demi-god or some sort.

"Enough with that, we have preparations we must do if we are ensuring the other region's safety." You had all the information you needed from the water, water carries the memories of all living beings, whether if it was drank, on the sidelines or even spilt, the water hears and memories it all.

Your plan was to make a barrier between Fontaine and the rest of the world, should the day ever come that the prophecy is filled nothing too drastic would happen if the water overflows and influences the rest of the world.

It's too late to try and stop the prophecy, not like you had a chance to stop it in the first place, however you did have a chance at preventing a bigger catastrophe and try to find a way to slow down the prophecy from happening.

Unfortunately for you, you didn't have enough materials to start making the barrier runes however that shouldn't be a problem if you could collect them in Fontaine. You can't expect all the ingredients for crafting to be in Teyvat seeing as some of them could be unique and a specialty for where you came from.

"We'll have to replace some ingredients but that's okay, whatever it is it shouldn't be too much of a problem." with the list in your hand your current goal was clear, ingredient hunting.

Why did you even come into Teyvat in the first place? If the memory and intensive headache wasn’t already evident you have no idea why, perhaps you previously did something stupid and as a result were punished to be confined to Teyvat and stay there until your memory comes back, but if that truly were the case then why wasn’t all of your memory erased?

Another one of your theories for this was you witnessing something so disgusting or weird that it shook you so much, you had no choice but to run away and erase that part of your memory, and if this was true then maybe that part of your memory is connected to Teyvat and this land. However ultimately you had a feeling it was also connected to your teacher… the person who was in that blocked memory, you don’t know what transpired between you and your teacher but it definitely wasn’t that good.

Oh well, it’s not good to get distracted from your original goal and forget why you’re even here, you do not have forever to live and will die just like any human, getting distracted is the last thing you want on your list. 

You were lead to a village full creatures they called “Hillichurls”, you could feel remnants of curse on some of them though not all… however it’s not like you can break such a curse, if you don’t know the full story and origin of the curse breaking it could lead to more disastrous problems… like the last world.

The creatures were agitated upon seeing you however they didn’t seemed to be hostile and allowed you to calmly walk freely in the village. 

“Let’s see… I might need these, a little bit of that, probably a handful of this.” You were collecting a material called ‘Star tears’, despite the poetic name it’s basically a type of star dust and for some reason had been infused with the belongings of “Hillichurls”.

“Hm? You want me to make a replacement for the things I’m taking?” The Hillichurls dance and spoke as you looked through their stuff, looks like you have to make them something in return for the things.

“Don’t worry I’m not taking your stuff just erasing some bad omens on it.” The glittery dust on your hand shimmers as you continue to collect them, oh boy, this was gonna take a while.

Furina was a bit shocked to see that the scene where the supposed star was supposed to be… turned out to be completely normal!! Nothing!! Not a single crater or dead plant, it’s as if it was all an illusion.

“H-How could this be?! Did that-?! Ughh…” she was frustrated at the fact she had been lied to, she couldn’t understand why but now that she’s here she might as well take a break and enjoy the scenery.

It’s quiet… it’s too calm and quiet, she’d expect slimes and hillichurls to be popping out right and left since it was normal for this region to have them spawning but… it’s as if they’ve disappeared into thin air.

But this was good right? Here, she could probably rest her mind and not get worried about being attacked, maybe she could cry her heart out now that she’s in the middle of nowhere. It’s comforting… as if the creator had heard her words from earlier and gave her an excuse to temporarily break from her duties and role as the “hydro archon”, it’s a wonderful feeling as she realized she could breath the first time in a long time.

Slowly lying down on the grass the world lured her to sleep, the gentle sea making waves, the soft winds blowing, and her feeling tired and broken, she’d fall and slowly slip away from reality. 

“A nap wouldn’t hurt anyone… right?” An answer she would never receive, who knows how long she’ll stay asleep, but maybe long enough for someone to spot her.

You walked back to your hidden space with a bag full of star tears, the stuff was all over you including a hillichurl mask, very friendly creatures, you have no idea why they would be mercilessly killed though… maybe it was something different between your aura and others?

Teyvat’s ecosystem was very lively and diverse, more than the ones where you came from at least, compared to the rest of the worlds you’ve been through you could say it was… pretty mid, sure the scenery and landscape was nice and pretty but that was all. You couldn’t really find another reason to settle down or stay in Teyvat, not when your final goal was to travel and explore, despite having limited memory of your home plane and almost none of your life before this you still want to travel.

Stuffing the bag full of star tears inside your inventory you decided to call it a day and rest for now, the sun was already down by the time you stopped collecting star tears so for now you decided to spend that time to rest and collect your thoughts for the night. 

“Oh?” light blue hair and noble like clothing, unique lashes, and an obviously sleep deprived look on her face, who was this girl sleeping in the middle of nowhere close to the place you were residing?

At first you wanted to pay no mind to her, yet after standing there for a while thinking of all the possible benefits you might get from her judging from her appearance, you decided to save her from her miserable fate of being in danger and princess carry her into the waters with you.

The young girl on your bed seemed like she was having a nightmare, tears spilt for her shut-closed eyes, she’s whimpering as if someone hurted her, she was in so much pain. It shouldn’t bother you, it doesn’t involve you, she doesn’t have anything to do with you, you drew a line between her and you, never intending to cross that line and help the crying girl.

It’s cold underwater, even when you’re in an drier and not as cold part of the waters, everything was still so cold, it’s not like you weren’t bothered by the sticky feeling of your clothes hanging tightly on to your frame but you just chose to simply not mind about it. But what about the girl? Sniffling and shivering with the lack of heat and freezing cold waters, ah, you really don’t want to get involved.

“Forgive me for my lack of decency,” you pulled her closer to you “ but I really don’t want to see someone dying from being cold.”

You feel like a pervert for crossing the line and holding a girl so close to you like this, considering there’s no flammable materials near you at the moment and if you left her alone to go find the materials something might happen. Boredly you traced her facial features, a beauty indeed for your standard but if anything you aren’t attracted to children who are below 400 years old, that was about how old you were at least, you don’t remember how old you truly were, but you’re definitely older than the average human.

“You’re… the perfect example of a human I’ve seen so far,” beautiful yet so tragically fragile, you wonder what lead the girl to have laid so defenselessly and tiredly so “you’re so interestingly weird with that curse on you.”

It’s cold… it felt so cold being asleep, why did she feel so lonely for some reason? It’s like she was underwater, it’s calm and serene yet so lonely and dark compared to the surface world, it’s simply too… suffocating for her.

“Furina… why did you abandon them?” she doesn’t understand why, who was telling her this? Where was she even in the first place, blinded by the dark and sadness of the warters. She who is being judged for all that she has done so far in the name of “hydro Archon”.

“Do you not hear their pleas?” it’s too much, make it stop… unconsciously trying to reach for her ears she try to block out the words and sounds that she hears, it’s too much, it’s al simply too much for some one like her to handle. “ You’re so heartless”

‘Creator, where are you?’ she silently pleas holding her body as if she was going to break any moment, the pain was too much for her to bare, how was she to move if the weight of her guilt was holding her down? ‘Let me hear your voice just once, even for a moment I want to have hope.’ but there was nothing there, nothing to catch her tears or listen to her pleas.

The darkness of her nightmares engulfing her slowly but surely, she was losing her mind having to dance and play someone else for so long, a never ending torture to her life. For a moment she felt at peace with the cold and suffocating darkness, and slowly it stopped scaring her, like an old friend she finally opened her arms to embrace it.

“Is this what you really wanted?” A voice she’s never heard before, yet a feeling of warmth and relief washes over her like a wave of sea on a summer day, who was this?

“How can I continue when I’m already at my limit?” she’s weak, oh so weak, how come the barriers that she put up seemingly start to crumble now?

“...Don’t ever stop or give up ever again,” she’s angry at those words, they’re just stupid meaningless encouragements others spew, so what if she continued? There’s no grand prize waiting for her at the end…

“What do you know about giving up or stopping?!” her bailed fist swung at the direction of the voice, yet it only hits a barrier between her and the voice, it’s so frustrating… “You don’t even know what I’ve been through, you stupid, incompetent, pathetic voice in my head!!”

She played the role of a god, and will always play according to the role of “Hydro Archon”, so then why in this part of her mind does she let go of that mask and become one with “Furina”? Why was she wavering and growing weak only now after so long on her throne and stage of endless night?

She’s frustrated, she’s angry, she’s confused and so so lost in her own mind, she doesn’t understand what she has to do anymore, the voice in front of her in this dream right now… she hates it. With her clench fist in frustration she starts hitting the invisible wall, letting out all the anger and frustration onto something that is the result of her own mind.

“You’d never understand, you’d never see,” the walls which slowly crumble with each hit, she’s still so lost in her emotions “yes I won’t stop or give up just yet, so listen to me!!”

With her last hit the invisible wall broke like glass making her fall into the deeper darkness in front of her, the weak yet beautiful human, you acknowledge her perseverance. 

“I’ll listen to you,” gently you traced her tear stained face, her eyes still so full of life looking up at you in surprise “so wake up, Furina.”

Jolting out of her sleep, Furina breathed heavily trying to calm herself down, after a minute or so she began to look around and noticed that she was in one of the underwater ruins, the barrier between the ruin and the water was clear but that wasn’t what her attention was on right now, it was on the strange figure sitting close to the barrier seemingly playing around with strange gold-like dust. 

“Y-You! Where am I and how did I end up here?” however the figure did not stop and continue to inspect the glitter, standing up the figure dump the whole bag of glitter onto the ground “Can’t you hear me?! You’re in the presence of a god, mind your manners and praise me will you?”

“...Patience is a virtue, dear god, and I’m performing a task.” Huffing her chest, Furina looks pissed, but in reality she’s curious on what they were doing.

You combined the vial of Primordial seawater together with star tears, nothing seemed to react out of the ordinary, for the ritual in making the barrier to work you have to also combined another element, which is in fact your blood, long story short as the person to form the barrier it is your duty to preform and replace the missing ingredients so to apply with the last missing material which is the blood of the elemental sovereign of water, you had to use your blood which qualifies for some elemental properties. 

“So, how should I address you dear god?” The long silence as you both stared into each other’s eyes, it seems she’s slowly realizing who you were.

“You… you’re the voice in my dream.” An empty smile, Furina has seen a smile like this many times, she knows just by looking at those (e/c) with specks of light like stars however those specks of light quickly die out, your eyes are like a quiet and dead night sky. “Drop the act, how much do you know about me?”

You only stared back at her, not sure how to answer her, to be able to sneak into someone’s mind was one of your skills, it was an underhand trick taught by your mentor a long time ago on a mission. Normally you wouldn’t be able to get into her mind like right now when she’s awake and her mentality is strong, however, when the target is weak and defenseless and their mentality is at the worst state possible then you would have a chance to take a peak.

“Even without the ability to know as much as I do right now,” a pitiful look on your face, why do you look like you’re pitying her for no reason? “I already knew from the moment I touch you, you were no more than an ordinary human cursed for some reason.”

“What proof do you have for that accusation?! Don’t you know it’s a crime on Fontaine to accuse the Hydro Archon with no proof?!” This wasn’t the first time someone had accused her of being a fake god, but still she can’t let down the act just yet.

“You’re right, I have nothing to prove that you’re not a god yet, but deep down inside you knew, didn’t you?” temporarily throwing your cloak away you take out an old and rusty dagger, how long have you kept it in your coat? “Whether or not you answer me doesn’t matter, feel free to leave now that you’re feeling better.”

With one swift action, you stabbed your left arm and winced at the pain, Furina in horror starred as your blood shimmers like glitter in water, as if you were controlling your blood, the liquid combined with the dust was used like ink on a strange looking type of stone in your palm.

“Excuse me~” A blink of an eye and now you’re suddenly in front of her, she falls behind out of surprise however you caught her by her waist and let her lean against you, you both still ended up on the ground but at least it’s only you who’s in pain right now “Well that hurts…”

“...What are you doing?” you calmly dust yourself off and help her stand up, while also taking a few strands of her hair.

“Making a barrier rune! Though I don’t think you’d ever seen one like this before.” Breaking your calm and gentle demeanor, Furina was surprised to see this child-like attitude and look on you. 

Your smile was beautiful, it’s strange for Fruina seeing as she’s never felt like this before, you had this sort of light glow on you when you both first met, even in her dream where she met you she was awestruck with how god-like you look in her dreams, if this was true then maybe the comet… you were the comet that fell from the night sky. 

‘A star bright enough to be mistaken for the sun shall fall in Teyvat’s embrace, carrying with it the remnants of the past and the answers to the future, when the waters rise and the creatures dance, the star shall leave and a trail of blood shall follow where it goes.’ 

That’s the prophecy wasn’t it? However you don’t look nor feel like a hostile person nor someone searching for something they have lost but… more likely it then not you’re just here to explore and look at the land. You looked like a traveler solving riddles and finding something new right now but before that… you were like an ancient being who had seen everything.

“You know, Furina, I really love this world” You’re lying.

“I love the people and creatures I’ve seen living and laughing” You’re lying again.

“I love the beauty of this country you’re trying so hard to protect.” Please… you’re hurting her heart…

“I love your strength and everything you’re standing for right now.” Shut up…

Angry tears spilt out of her eyes as she pushes you into the wall, she doesn’t believe you at all, you’re a lying voice, you’re a god who lies, you’re the god… who left Teyvat for no reason at all!! 

.

.

.

Pausing for a moment she looked into your confused yet curious eyes, how could she not recognize this carefree attitude and beautiful eyes? Despite your statues and paintings being long destroyed she still had runes and writings of your glorious days of when you were still in Teyvat.

“Have you ever heard of them? My prayers for peace and rest after so long?” her grip on you loosen allowing you to gently push her away and continue finishing the barrier rune. “Did you ever hear anyone’s wishes? You’re so cruel, Creator...”

“I’m not your Creator.” You’re still lying to her… why can’t you just accept the fact you carried everything that was written in the scriptures? “Your Creator… no longer exists.”

With the affinity of water that Oceanids had you combined Furina’s hair into the rune and formed the barrier needed to protect the rest of the World for a certain amount of 2 weeks. Now how did you know Furina was an Oceanid? It might have to do something with her peculiar eyes and hair color, however even without the Oceanid’s affinity with water your blood should have been fine on it’s own.

You aren’t the Creator, you have no memory of making nor creating a world much like this one, in fact you don’t even think you have enough power to make a world like this. But to be called the Creator? What a messed up joke…

Long ago, on one of your expeditions with your mentor, an accident happened on that trip killing your mentor. In their dying breath, your mentor told you of a world they hid from you and that one day you would find it, it would answer the questions they couldn’t answer you before. Though they wanted to tell you more, death had already taken them away.

There’s no use recalling old memories, based on assumptions you could only guess that this world is the world they were talking about, your mentor was truly a sly and secretive person. Leaving so much information yet so little ways of understanding it, creating a world of beauty and pain yet leaving it to rot and forgotten, you could never understand how they work.

“Will you tell them?” You stored the finished rune back into your pocket, Furina stood there with her head hung low not daring to face you directly anymore. “Will you tell the people that a fake god had pretended to take care of them and had contributed almost nothing in protecting them?”

She’s scared of the betrayal look on the people’s faces, the disgust in their eyes, the indifferent look on Neuvillette’s face as he passes down her judgment for being a fake God. You knew too much about her, and she could feel that by looking at your (e/c) eyes, though they show almost no emotions it also has shown that you had seen through her and her facade as a fake god. 

“No.” She looked up at you shocked at what you just said, weren’t you going to expose her for lying? “Because I saw the trials you have put on for yourself, to please the people’s expectations, to weigh the heavy responsibilities alone with no one to rely on, praying for peace only to wake up the next day putting up a front and slowly losing yourself, you’ve at some point have forgotten yourself.”

She can’t cry anymore, because there were no tears left for her to cry. It’s so quiet next to you, it’s so lonely next to someone like you, perhaps she somewhat understands your true nature, a lonely vagrant drifting among the stars, someone with no place to call home of your own.

“Are you going to stay in Fontaine?” It’s hopeless to hold you back she knew, yet childishly she still hopes for you to stay even when this is the first time you both had ever talked to each other.

“I can’t,” her face darkens at the answer, someone like you… perhaps it is better for you to leave than to stay here in this cursed land she calls home. “Although my job is far from over and I cannot stay in one place for too long, however.”

A hand you offered her helping her to stand up from where she seated, hesitantly she took it and stood next to you, she looked at where you pointed, despite the fears of being underwater she still found it’s beauty, the beauty you pointed out for her. She’s rarely, no she’s never been underwater until now, there’s just been too much for her to worry about to even have a break. The peace of mind she wanted before… you’re giving it to her now… she’s grateful to you.

“When you no longer have to act as the Hydro Archon anymore, I’ll lead you on a journey beyond Teyvat.”

"Then I'll trust you... beloved Creator..."

You caught her in your arms as she fell asleep once more, gently you handed her to the ocean, the waves shall bring her back to Fontaine and the memories she had just now with you shall be nothing more than a dream, whether it had grant her what she wanted or not you don't know.

The promise you made to her you don't intend to break, it's up to her whether she wants to leave with you or not.

" Furina... You'll get your deserved rest soon, just a little bit more, please dance for the gods."

That took so longgggg jenvjrv

I know this request in away isn't as good as the ones I've finished before, but I really tried.

I'm so sorry it took so long @canigotosleep--plz

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Edit 1: You saw nothing

[elles-home]

modern au zosan thoughts to nina nesbitt’s the best you had

i don’t know if i’m gonna flip the pronouns but maybe sanji is bisexual? so it’s post break up and sanji is with a new girl. it’s only three weeks but why does sanji look so happy. why does he look so happy, so, so soon. they were together for six years. six years, and three weeks was all it took for sanji to be posting about his new girlfriend, happy and wonderful, and soft and gorgeous in ways zoro isn’t.

is that why he broke up with him? because zoro can’t be soft in the way he needs softness, because zoro can’t love the way sanji needs to be loved? because god knows sanji was loved, zoro aches for him with his mind and soul now, his body unable to maintain the rigid form instilled into him over years of training as a swordsman, the values of maintaining his inner strength wavering, and he cannot breathe.

(he pulled himself up. but he couldn’t breathe)

sanji needs words, and zoro was a man of action. there was never a thing sanji needed or wanted that was not done. and sanji, despite having the same love language when it comes to being a giver, really, really needed words when it was his time to receive. and zoro tried. he did, but sometimes trying isn’t enough, he supposes. if it were, sanji would still be with him.

zoro tries not to keep up with sanji’s social media, he’s doing a good job at no contact (a man with few words ought to be, right? it’s not, zoro aches. he looks at every corner hoping it’s sanji coming to pick him up because he got lost again, he looks at every aisle in the grocery store they frequented, he aches in ways when his friends obviously split their time between sanji and zoro). and he wants to move on, but sanji’s social media is the only way he can keep tabs on him. he just wants to know if he’s okay! and if a stab to the heart whenever he sees her pretty brown locks that fall down her shoulders, well that is the price he must pay for playing games he should no longer be allowed to play.

when he’s staring at the ceiling during lonely nights, angry and malicious and so, so hateful, he thinks viciously that at least she won’t be able to hold him down like zoro is able to. sanji liked it so much when zoro held his precious arms captive above his head, when his lips would trail from his ears to his throat and back to his ears and instruct to keep his hands right there for me baby, don’t move, and sanji would huff and puff but his hands would never move. not even as zoro glides lower and lower, leaving a trail of bruises, purple pink in the pale skin that reddens so easily, even as zoro gets a little mean with his teeth around his nipples, even when zoro holds to that tiny waist, his large hands leaving circle marks when they tighten around his waist. his waist was so small, is still, and zoro thinks vindictively, she won’t give it to him. she won’t worship his body like zoro did.

he wonders, if sanji thinks of zoro when he fucks his new girl. he hopes sanji realises she won’t be able to give what he could’ve, what he would’ve, what he had been giving.

as long as he’s the best he’s ever had, zoro is okay, he thinks. or he will be, but he knows. he knows deep in his heart, that he’s the best he’s ever had. so he will be okay.

when? he doesn’t know. in the meantime he will keep filling the void with bodies, (he wondered if this was what it was for sanji too (he soon realised it wasn’t))

the best sanji’s ever had. zoro’s sure that’s him. he’ll be okay.

(maybe if he repeats it enough, it will be true)