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andvys · 4 months

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You slowly push yourself up but keepthe covers over your body, looking over at thenightstand on your side of the bed, a smileappears on your face when you see the glassof water and Advil along with a little note 'drinkup, blondie - and come downstairs for coffee and breakfast. Your dry mouth is begging for the water, you scoot over and reach for it, gladly grabbing the painkiller too, you throw it into your mouth and wash it down with the water.

Yeah, my mouth was also watering. Because fuck, Steve is so effortlessly hot when he's gentle and caring I can't.

Embarrassment fills you the longer you think ofhow you were around him, how giddy and happyyou were, how love guided you to kiss him and treat him as though he was your boyfriend when he wasn't, when he isn't, when he will never be.

How will you face him after last night?

What does he think of you now?

Will he treat you differently now?

Can you just pretend like you don't remember a single thing and you can both go back to normal?

My poor baby. Always so afraid and insecure. Afraid of losing him.

Steve can't help but chuckle to see you blushing, he brings his hand up towards your face, slipping his fingers through your hair before he tucks it behind your ear.

"Do you want another kissy?”

He's such a tease, I can't.

He held you in his arms when you fell asleep last night, he got up before you just to make you breakfast - your favorite kind too

Is he like that with everyone?

Does he treat all his hookups like this?

Does he make them breakfast too or hold them inhis arms until they fall asleep?

Or are you the only one that gets all this?

Yep, Blondie, you're probably the first person he treats like this after Nancy, and there are some things he hasn't done even for Nancy. But he's doing them for you.

‘Cause you always were really special to him, but you both were too blind to see.

Fuck we are really slowly moving from Thsi Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things to Call It What You Want.

"You don't need anyone but me today," he whispers as he presses another kiss against your neck and curls his fingers inside of you.

Fuck, I could help myself, but just pathetically drool at his casual dominance.

Hopeful that, even if you spent a whole dayfucking, that this new development means something. Hopeful that this exclusivity is real and will go on until he decides to actually take theleap, to actually fight for what he wants againHopeful that he feels the same as you do. Thatyou two would not do this with anyone else, but with each other.

Hate to break it, but the more hopeful you feel right now, the more pain it will cause later.

I wonder what would Eddie think about this cancelation. Would he be concerned? Would he be worried again, and how much worried he'd be?

Thanks for the chapter, baby!

You’re right! Blondie is the first girl he does these things for, not even Nancy got all that — it would be nice if Blondie knew that right?

I love how you’re waiting for the pain and the angst to hit 🤭

Eddie is definitely worried about her and her feelings for Steve, he can’t see them having a happy ending cause he doesn’t know about Steve’s feelings and thinks that it’s just sex to him…

I’m happy you liked this chapter 🩷🩷

#andy’s asks

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tar-thelien · 11 months

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Chapter twelve; Looking For Light In The Darkness

Chapter notes:

Elrond is getting measured in height, Maedhros and Maglor getting angry at each other and discuss faking the twins' death - Maglor only understands others' trauma as something to be exploited ATM - Elrond and Elros gets to see what chess is (we might see them play it in next chap)

words: 1428

“Elrond, come here,” Maglor hummed as he stood up from his chair in the dining room where they were eating breakfast in the usually tense silence, “let me take your height,” he explained at Elrond´s suspicious looking eyes as the Peredhel slowly stood up to follow him.

Weaving the child over to the door frame Maglor quickly strode back to the table in three large jumps to grab a knife. When he then returned to Elrond he made sure his feet touched the exact same places they had jumped from, Elros dully noted as his eyes had been glued to Maglor from the moment the kinslayer had stood up.

Oblivious to Elrond´s fear filled eyes, and Elros intake of breath as he placed a hand on Elrond´s head and sat his knife on top of it making a knack in the doorframe where Elrond´s height ended Maglor hummed self satisfied, “shall we assume you are of the same height?” he smiled as he waved Elrond back to his breakfast which had now been doomed to be ignored for the rest of the meal.

“Don´t you think it´s weird my children haven´t had the need to nurse from any Fea?” Maglor asked Maedhros as he came in through the door to the redhaired elf´s office after having laid the two stolen Peredhel´s to sleep that night.

“I imagine it is of the same situation with Erestor,” Maedhros merely replied back, not looking up from the report he was reading.

“Well, yes. But we know not if Carnisen ever had the need to nurse on his Atar´s Fea as Moryo was terrible silence about most of it.”

“Erestor.” Maedhros hissed as a reply as he bit his lip in frustration.

“The only thing we truly know about our dear, ERESTOR, is that his mother is of the Atan and probably of the Haladin. But my sons are more than just Atan and Eldar.”

“Maybe!” Maedhros snarled as he turned towards his brother, “maybe! They only needed to when they were younger, and their REAL parents already have done that job.”

Scowling at his brother Maglor hissed back, “MY sons are much younger than Carnisen when we met him!”

“Ahr yes!” Maedhros exclaimed throwing his arms up in the air, as if in realization, “but they are part Ainur too, no? Maybe that has something to do with it too!?”

“My sons-”

“Leave!” Maedhros cut through Maglor with a feral growl unheard of coming from one of the Eldar, and definitely not one who had had a residence in the blessed realm. One of the few useful things he had taken from Angband in Maedhros´s own opinion.

“Ereinion wrote to you.” Maglor was quick to say before the older elf could stand up to use physical force, “he wants to know where his “heirs” are,” Maglor said as he rolled his eyes and crooked his fingers over the title, “you need to have him under control, I don´t want him to have any ideas or coming here uninvited.”

“You stole my post.”

“There is nothing for this self proclaimed king here, other than my sword at his throat.”

Maedhros let out a low growl in response, “that is what your own problem has caused, you shall leave him alone.”

“We need to convince him they are gone. That will keep away.” Maglor said moving close to Maedhros, “Nelyo that will keep them all long away and us safe! If they think they are gone, they will leave us alone and only bother us when wanting to trade!”

“I doubt they will want to trade with us after this,” Maedhros murmured out tiredly.

“They hast to! They need our help! Art we not the ones holding Morgoth´s forces far hence, and they doest knoweth it. They shall keepth trading for food, fur, and safety, with us, and us only. They hast none else to trad with.”

This time taking noticing how his older brother flinched at the naming of the dark Vala Maglor smiled wide with sparkling eyes, as if he had just gotten a world revolutionary idea, “have thou not thought about what Morgoth shall doth at which hour that he hears we hast alloweth two children, part Maia at that, liveth under our protection? From two lines that yond monster particularly hates. At which hour Morgoth hears that those children art here, then he shall not seeth us as an insignificant irritable speck on his war graphs, but something that he need, ney need, to wash us hence. Completely."

Maglor smiled wider as he saw how Maedhros had gone completely still, not even shaking. The only motion of him still being alive and not one of the colored statues their mother used to make back when they were children, where the harsh breathing coming from his nose.

“He shall useth those youngsters as weapons, Nelyo, thee knoweth that! Thee want them in the grasp of Morgoth?” Maglor lamented as he sank to his knees beside his brother leaning his arms on the armrest of the chair the older one was occupying, “Ereinion know we took them, some of the Avarin hast seen us, but writeth to that self proclaimed king, that those two hast fallen sick. Or hath fallen into a river. Or down the walls. A fitting end, nay?”

“Leave.”

“Very well,” Maglor said stiffly nodding as he stood up stretching, “I shall now go and find them things they can occupy their time with.”

-o0o-

“Come children, I hast found you something you might enjoy!” Maglor exclaimed at the two children as he saw them in one of the corridors, probably just finishing a lesson with Erestor.

Slowly the two children drove near looking skeptical at the elf in front of them who where dragging a red painted pine chest engraved with what seemed to be a mix between dwarvish and elvish patterns, as well as a big eight pointed silver star right on top of the lit.

“Help me with this, will you?” Maglor asked, smiling as ever, “I hast become old you see, and needeth help, as much as I can get!”

Open having dragged the chest to the twins' room Maglor waved both of them down to his level, kneeling before the chest, after they had placed their books, which had been resting on the chest while moving, on their beds.

“Now, see!” he cried as he opened the lit to show of all kinds of things, from porceline dolls and leatherbound books to small colorful round people and some crude wooden cut animals, and other things, all of various quality, and more hidden under black silk placed between the items so as not to harm each other.

“There she is!” Maglor said as he dug in the chest and pulled forth another box he was quick to pull onto the floor and open.

“This is made from the finest pine and walnut trees you can ever find on this side of the sea, and see here!” he said as he held up a small figure of a queen, no bigger than his palm and yet so many details, it was almost as if you could see her black eyelashes blinking over her cold shining black eyes, from her form clad in flowy fabrics and heavy furs, as well as golden painted jewelry, but not that usually seen on an elf to what the twins knew.

“She is made in the depiction of my brother's love. I don´t know why.” he said frowning, “it is poetic at the least.”

“What is it?” Elros asked, now having grabbed a white elven rider, with golden armor with silver details and golden halo, on an even whiter rearing horse.

“Ahr, just a Noldor´s favorite pastime game I assure you, child own,” Maglor laughed pulling more pieces forth as he set them out on the checked board that had come from the box with the black and white pieces, “Vartatyalme! Now let us play. You two can be against me.”

-o0o-

“I wrote we had been attacked by a raid on our way back,” Maedhros said, uttering his first words, since all five of them had sat down to their shared evening meal, while staring at his untouched food, which had now long ago turned cold, as the others stood to leave from the evening meal.

“Come Russo,” Maglor said sitting down beside him again with a soft smile as he picked up the redhaired´s fork and filled it with some cold roast, “let me help you with eating.”

---

Do I like to add some Shakespearean to Maglor at times, especially when he´s trying to prove a point to make him sound more poetic? I might. I like to think Maglor would have liked the crown to stay in Feanor´s line but knew it was necessary to give it to Fingolfin, what he didn´t understand is why it went to Fingon instead of Maedhros. Also Maglor doesn’t want to say dead when talking about the twins as he fears that might make it real. Aw Maedhros, are you afraid to name your bestie´s son's name? The wall thing is supposed to be about Maeglin. Maglor poked too much to half healed trauma for Maedhros to actually do much. Erestor´s other name is from a fic I´m working on about his Origin and how he meets the sons of Feanor the first time. Carnisen = Red child: Quenya Varta = War -:Quenya (- meaning that it´s supposed to be sat in front of anoth word, or joined with one) Tyalme = Game: Quenya (Tyal would be ´to play´) Vartatyalme = Wargame: Quenya (chess. It´s chess.)

- I will be working on getting me of the twins into the story -

#tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #maedhros #maitimo #nelyafinwe #maglor #makalaure #kanafinwe #elrond #elros #elrond peredhel #elros tar minyatur #elrond and elros #kidnap fam #kidnap dads #my fic

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emersonfreepress · 1 year

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I haven't read your game till now. Ive seen it float on my dash and on the forum but murder intrigue never was my genre.. till now hehehehehe. Honestly brilliant. I love how the stats work for the MCs personality. How they "2faced" but in reality dont we all keep up a polite preface and keepthe thoughts you dont say outloud to ourselves (mostly lol)

Nice! I love when someone not into this sort of thing still finds some entertainment in it 🥰 And yes, we all certainly do!

#i totally agree #lovely anon #thanks for giving it a chance :]#<3

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swoobatte · 11 months

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Why??? Why do I keepth getting rejected in mine dreams?????

#//bro #//his Mii cannot catch a BREAK #//TWO TIMES NOW

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roseslaces · 1 year

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19. Of Lucretia, who put an end to her life because of the outrage done her.

This, then, is our position, and it seems sufficiently lucid. We maintain that when a woman is violated while her soul admits no consent to the iniquity, but remains inviolably chaste, the sin is not hers, but his who violates her. But do they against whom we have to defend not only the souls, but the sacred bodies too of these outraged Christian captives,—do they, perhaps, dare to dispute our position? But all know how loudly they extol the purity of Lucretia, that noble matron of ancient Rome. When King Tarquin's son had violated her body, she made known the wickedness of this young profligate to her husband Collatinus, and to Brutus her kinsman, men of high rank and full of courage, and bound them by an oath to avenge it. Then, heart-sick, and unable to bear the shame, she put an end to her life. What shall we call her? An adulteress, or chaste? There is no question which she was. Not more happily than truly did a declaimer say of this sad occurrence: "Here was a marvel: there were two, and only one committed adultery." Most forcibly and truly spoken. For this declaimer, seeing in the union of the two bodies the foul lust of the one, and the chaste will of the other, and giving heed not to the contact of the bodily members, but to the wide diversity of their souls, says: "There were two, but the adultery was committed only by one."

But how is it, that she who was no partner to the crime bears the heavier punishment of the two? For the adulterer was only banished along with his father; she suffered the extreme penalty. If that was not impurity by which she was unwillingly ravished, then this is not justice by which she, being chaste, is punished. To you I appeal, ye laws and judges of Rome. Even after the perpetration of great enormities, you do not suffer the criminal to be slain untried. If, then, one were to bring to your bar this case, and were to prove to you that a woman not only untried, but chaste and innocent, had been killed, would you not visit the murderer with punishment proportionably severe? This crime was committed by Lucretia; that Lucretia so celebrated and lauded slew the innocent, chaste, outraged Lucretia. Pronounce sentence. But if you cannot, because there does not compear any one whom you can punish, why do you extol with such unmeasured laudation her who slew an innocent and chaste woman? Assuredly you will find it impossible to defend her before the judges of the realms below, if they be such as your poets are fond of representing them; for she is among those

"Who guiltless sent themselves to doom,And all for loathing of the day,In madness threw their lives away."

And if she with the others wishes to return,

"Fate bars the way: around their keepThe slow unlovely waters creep,And bind with ninefold chain."

Or perhaps she is not there, because she slew herself conscious of guilt, not of innocence? She herself alone knows her reason; but what if she was betrayed by the pleasure of the act, and gave some consent to Sextus, though so violently abusing her, and then was so affected with remorse, that she thought death alone could expiate her sin? Even though this were the case, she ought still to have held her hand from suicide, if she could with her false gods have accomplished a fruitful repentance. However, if such were the state of the case, and if it were false that there were two, but one only committed adultery; if the truth were that both were involved in it, one by open assault, the other by secret consent, then she did not kill an innocent woman; and therefore her erudite defenders may maintain that she is not among that class of the dwellers below "who guiltless sent themselves to doom." But this case of Lucretia is in such a dilemma, that if you extenuate the homicide, you confirm the adultery: if you acquit her of adultery, you make the charge of homicide heavier; and there is no way out of the dilemma, when one asks, If she was adulterous, why praise her? if chaste, why slay her?

Nevertheless, for our purpose of refuting those who are unable to comprehend what true sanctity is, and who therefore insult over our outraged Christian women, it is enough that in the instance of this noble Roman matron it was said in her praise, "There were two, but the adultery was the crime of only one." For Lucretia was confidently believed to be superior to the contamination of any consenting thought to the adultery. And accordingly, since she killed herself for being subjected to an outrage in which she had no guilty part, it is obvious that this act of hers was prompted not by the love of purity, but by the overwhelming burden of her shame. She was ashamed that so foul a crime had been perpetrated upon her, though without her abetting; and this matron, with the Roman love of glory in her veins, was seized with a proud dread that, if she continued to live, it would be supposed she willingly did not resent the wrong that had been done her. She could not exhibit to men her conscience, but she judged that her self-inflicted punishment would testify her state of mind; and she burned with shame at the thought that her patient endurance of the foul affront that another had done her, should be construed into complicity with him. Not such was the decision of the Christian women who suffered as she did, and yet survive. They declined to avenge upon themselves the guilt of others, and so add crimes of their own to those crimes in which they had no share. For this they would have done had their shame driven them to homicide, as the lust of their enemies had driven them to adultery. Within their own souls, in the witness of their own conscience, they enjoy the glory of chastity. In the sight of God, too, they are esteemed pure, and this contents them; they ask no more: it suffices them to have opportunity of doing good, and they decline to evade the distress of human suspicion, lest they thereby deviate from the divine law.

#St Augustine #The City of God #Christianity #paganism #Rome

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