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damonjuicyscock · 2 years

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Could you do a Dilf Damon x milf Justine

Dilf Damon x reader where Damon catches y/n masterbateing in the shower and moaning his name??

I love Justine but I'm not writing for her, sorry, so it will be Dilf Damon X Reader :)

Red Lights (Dilf ! Damon Albarn X Reader)

Pairing: Dilf ! Damon Albarn X Reader

Warnings: SMUTTY AF (masturbation, oral both receiving, P in V sex, it’s shower sex guys), language, maybe a few spelling mistakes

Words: 2184

A/N: Here I am, back with this smutty oneshot! It’s inspired from a song I really love called Red Lights by the 80’s-90’s English band Curiosity Killed the cat (some of you may know them I don’t know), but this song inspires me a lot because it is sensual AF. I hope you’ll like it! Enjoy!

It was a Thursday evening, and you just came back from work. It was 8pm and you were planning on seeing your friend Damon.

He often came to your workplace. You were a pet groomer who also owned a cat’s bar. One day, one of your favourite singers in the world, Damon Albarn, made its appearance. He looked stressed and having a coffee with a cat laid on his lap relaxed him a lot, so his visits became regular. You got to knew each other, even though you were way younger than him and you soon became friends.

Tonight, he was planning on making you discover the Gorillaz’s cartoon that was supposed to be out on Netflix the year after. He had it on DVD.

When you arrived in front of your front door, Damon already was there.

Hey, I’m sorry, I may be late! You said

No worries, I’m the one early. Got a problem with the Cat’s bar?

Yeah, One of the cat got sick, I had to take him to the vet.

I’m sorry to hear this, is he okay?

Yeah, no worries, he ate a lizard, and it made him sick. The vet just gave me some meds for him to take during the two following days and he’ll get better.

You fumbled in your jean’s pockets and found your keys, opening the front door of your apartment and you both entered. While entering, you smelled Damon’s cologne that was driving you so crazy. Damn, this man was so attractive, and he smelled so good.

You might want to take a shower before we eat?

Gladly, I’ll make us something to eat after, make yourself comfortable.

No, I’ll do it myself. So at least you’ll eat something nice right after getting out of your so needed shower.

No Damon I…

I insist Y/N. Go have a nice shower love. He said, smiling

you responded with a smile as well and went to the bathroom.

Inside it, you exhaled loudly and started taking off your clothes. Damn, you had a huge crush on Damon, but you also desired him. You felt a sudden pool between your legs, being aroused just by thinking about him.

But then the memory came back to you: He was 54, and you were only in your 20’s.

You tried to calm down as you entered the shower, and hot water began running on your body and your head.

As you were washing your hair, your eyes closed, flashes of Damon taking you in the shower were running inside your head.

You were damn horny, and you had to do something about it.

When you were done rinsing your hair, you heard what seemed to be music on the speakers in your living room. You knew the song, as you had your 80’s era when you were younger and discovered the band listening to an 80’s web radio where their most famous song was often played. You thought he did on purpose but actually, he couldn’t know what you felt for him as you never told him.

Calling out the word sparing vocal tones that hardly can be heard I look into your eyes, and while I dream of you You take me by surprise

You let your hand slide in between your legs, your fingers finding your magic bundle of joy, as you threw your head back against the wall. It was the perfect song to do this. And what you also imagined he was doing to you on this song… My my, you were in trouble.

You rubbed it a few times, sliding on your knees, imagining yourself taking Damon in your hand and sucking him, his head thrown back against the wall, his hand in your hair, moaning as if there was no tomorrow.

Oh Damon… You muttered

The touch of your hand gives me the command to donate To donate myself to loving you How can it be that a feeling so free's radiated from thee to me And cuts through

You let a finger enter you, pumping in a back-and-forth motion and added a second, which made you moan loudly.

But he couldn’t hear you. He probably was in the kitchen, which was far and at the same time not so far from the bathroom.

Then you imagined him, crawling between your legs, and let his long and nice tongue do its work on your womanhood.

You were craving him. Fuck yeah you were.

I ain't gonna leave this one to fate No red lights could ever make, me wait, don't make me wait.

The thing is, you didn't hear the bathroom door open, and you didn't know that Damon had been standing there watching you for almost two minutes, panting like a dog, his hand massaging the growing bulge in his pants.

When you opened your eyes, you let out a scream, surprised to see him.

Damon! Oh my God, what are you doing here?

I wanted to ask you where you did keep your spices, but apparently, I found a better spice for tonight’s meal.

What? You… How much did you see?

Far too much to stay insensitive and do nothing. But before seeing, I heard.

Oh fuck… you said, hiding your face in embarrassment

It’s okay Y/N. At least now, I know I’m not the only one to feel this. What were you thinking about, when you touched yourself, that you were moaning my name? He asked, seductively

A-a-about you.

But what was I doing to you?

You don’t know how the sudden confidence came, but it came.

Join me in the shower if you want to know so bad.

Damon smirked; his gaze full of lust.

Oh, you won’t have to repeat it twice.

Damon took his clothes off as quickly as lightning passing through the sky and entered in the small shower with you.

And now, tell me. What was I doing to you? He repeated lowly in his deep voice

Riding on the wave On a life-long journey on the frequency you gave And all that I can say Is that you make me feel OK, everyday

I was the one to start at first.

Let me fulfil your fantasies. Show me. Place me wherever you want. I am your wooden puppet. I am at your humble service. He answered

You pushed him against the cold tiles of the shower making him hiss at first before getting on your knees in front of him.

Oh, I see exactly what you are getting at now… He said

You took his member in your hand and began stroking him, pumping him in your hand, as your flash realized itself by itself.

Damon started moaning loudly, you could tell it had been quite some time he didn’t do anything.

You approached your lips from his rock-hard length and started kitten licking the tip, swirling your tongue around it, as Damon threw his head back against the wall, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair in the process.

Oh fuck Y/N, just like that… He groaned

You kept going at it, until you felt him twitch inside your mouth.

I-Is i-is it the only thing I was doing to you? He grunted

You let go of him with a loud pop.

You got on your feet again and kissed him passionately. Your tongue asked for entrance, and he let you, allowing him to taste himself on your lips and tongue.

When the kiss came to an end, he looked at you with desire and love.

And now?

In my fantasies you go down on me. You say, looking at him in the same exact way

Your orders, madam’

Damon started kissing your neck, sliding to your breasts, sucking at one of them, then kissing your belly and losing himself in between your legs.

Oh God…

I know love. I know.

You could tell the man had a lot of experience. He was very talented with his tongue.

His lips caught your clit between them, and he licked it and suckled it. Slowly, he was taking you to paradise.

You felt his large hands spread your legs a bit more so he could have a better access to give you pleasure.

His thumb started massaging your clit, while his index was pushing at your entrance, as if to ask permission.

Please Damon, please…

What do you want from me Babygirl? Tell me what you want, I’ll do everything.

I need your fingers, please…

But where do you want them?

Seriously? You dare asking me this?

I need to know where you want them. I can’t do anything if you don’t.

I want them inside me. And I also want your tongue. Just keep doing what you’re doing but add your fingers, I beg you!

It makes me high as a kite when I reach you in flight, yes it does Won't you spread your wings and take my love Any old time it'll do it's just fine - just be mine, - be mine

Damon executed himself and soon he was pumping his fingers in and out of you, his tongue still working on your clit.

Oh fuck! You shouted

His fingers soon found your magic G-spot and when he saw how it made you react, he kept hitting it with his long, beautiful and talented fingers on purpose.

Your legs started trembling and a knot invaded your lower abdomen indicating you wouldn’t last long. Damon felt it and smiled, proud of himself.

Are you close love? Do you want me to make you cum or do you want to wait for me for this?

Make me cum! please make me cum! I can go at it again, please, I can’t hold on anymore!

His fingers sped up their actions and here you were, a moaning mess, squirming under your lover’s touch.

He was clearly enjoying himself when doing this. His gaze was on you, smirking and humming when you got to your climax.

You were oversensitive after that, but you needed it. You needed what would happen next.

And now? He asked again

You know what you have to do… You said, approaching your lips dangerously from his

I told you, you have to tell me what you want.

Take me Damon…

Do you want to ride me or do you want me to take you against this wall?

No. Take me.

it didn't fall on deaf ears. Ten seconds after, you had your legs wrapped around Damon’s pelvis, him deep inside you, thrusting inside you.

I ain't gonna leave this one to fate No red lights could ever make, me wait, don't make me wait

His lips were on yours, not leaving them while he was drilling inside you, groaning and panting.

Your insides were melting around him, the hot water now being cold running on your bodies were adding sensations to your lovemaking.

No red lights will make me wait now, make me wait now It's the right time baby No, no, no there ain't no stoppin us, there ain't no stoppin us Cause it's the right time baby - take my hand Got to understand, i'm at your command - take me high There ain't no stoppin us, there ain't no stoppin us cause it's the right time baby Got to understand, i'm at your command

Do you like this? Feeling me inside you? Filling you up?

Yes Damon, yes!

Let them hear baby. Let them hear you scream my name. Let them hear who makes you feel this good.

Oh God, he was so good at this.

The feeling of this heat coming back in your lower abdomen and your legs shaking told you that he made his effect on you and that you were close to your climax.

Damon’s movement became sloppy, indicating he wasn’t far from his climax as well.

I’m not gonna last love, are you close? He asked, panting

Fuck yes! Make me cum again Damon, make me scream your name, make the neighbours hear your name!

This threw him over the edge.

His body started shaking as well, and he had trouble keeping your legs in his arms but managed to hold on.

You came loudly just a few seconds before him.

Then he groaned loudly a few times and pulled out before he could spill inside you.

He let go of your legs and you both fell on the ground of the shower.

You managed to turn the water off, while you were both left panting and in total ecstasy.

And now? He asked, smiling

And now, it's as you wish. You answered the same

I have a few ideas. He smirked

Show me.

I won’t make you wait another time.

#dilf damon albarn #damon albarn oneshot #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn fanfic #damon albarn smut #gorillaz #britpop #blur band #damon albarn #damon albarn fluff

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blueiscoool · 2 years

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'Princely' Tomb of A Hun Warrior Unearthed in Romania

The remains of a "princely" tomb, possibly from a Hunnic warrior, have been found during motorway construction in Romania.

Workers building a new highway in Romania have unearthed the treasure-laden tomb of a wealthy warrior and his horse. The tomb dates to the fifth century A.D., when the region was controlled by a people known as the Huns.

The tomb is filled with more than 100 artifacts, including weapons, gold-covered objects and pieces of gold jewelry inlaid with gemstones, Silviu Ene(opens in new tab) of the Vasile Pârvan Institute of Archeology in Bucharest, Romania.

Ene is the lead archaeologist investigating the tomb, which was discovered late last year during the construction of a motorway near the town of Mizil in the southeast of Romania, about 140 miles (220 kilometers) from the Black Sea.

Four separate archaeological sites were unearthed during the road construction, and the wealthy warrior's tomb — which the researchers described as "princely" — was just a part of the most complex site, Ene said.

"This tomb is of major importance because, in addition to the rich inventory, it was discovered at a site along with 900 other archaeological features — [such as] pits, dwellings, and tombs," he said in an email.

Invading Huns

The ethnicity of the Mizil warrior still isn't known, but the rich grave goods suggest that he belonged to the ruling class in the region's Hunnic period, or "migration era," when it was controlled by the Huns, Ene and his colleagues told the news outlet Hungary Posts English(opens in new tab).

The Huns were nomadic horsemen who originated in Central Asia. During the fourth and fifth centuries A.D. they invaded and occupied the far east of Europe, while displacing other peoples — such as the Vandals and the Goths — from their lands, causing them to migrate west.

The Huns were a particular problem for the Byzantine (or Eastern) Roman Empire, which until that time had controlled much of the lands west of the Black Sea — a region that now includes Romania.

But the Romans lost the region to the Huns, who went on to invade the Western Roman province of Gaul (modern France and western Germany) and even to attack Rome under their leader Attila the Hun, before losing their territory in Europe to a mixed force of Goths and other Germanic former vassals at the Battle of Nedao — a site now in Croatia — in A.D. 454.

Princely tomb

The latest archaeological finds at the Mizil tomb included an iron sword in a gilded scabbard, a dagger, bundles of iron arrowheads and decorated braces of bone that were once fitted to a wooden bow, Ene said.

The dagger is especially ornate, with a gold-covered hilt inlaid with gemstones, he noted.

Archaeologists also unearthed the remains of a gilded saddle, a bronze cauldron, several decorated "sconces" — fittings to hold candles on a wall — and pieces of gold jewelry, he said.

The tomb held the warrior's complete skeleton, and his face seems to have been covered with a gold mask, the remains of which were also unearthed. However, only a leg and the head of his horse have been unearthed so far, Ene said.

The archaeologists told Hungary Posts English that the styles of the newfound objects suggest they are from about the fifth century A.D., when most of Europe north of the Danube River was under the control of the Huns.

The excavation of the tomb had to be completed in bad weather and sometimes with flashlights so that the motorway project could go ahead.

The archaeological investigation is now about "half finished," Ene said. Over the next few months, the bones and artifacts will be cleaned, investigated and put on public display, while the site of the tomb itself will be built over by the motorway project.

By Tom Metcalfe.

#'Princely' Tomb of A Hun Warrior Unearthed in Romania #ancient tomb #ancient grave #treasure-laden tomb #ancient artifacts #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations

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roppiepop · 2 years

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for the ask meme,, timkon or stephcass? (also, i’m so curious about the unpopular opinion about damitim?? is it scandalous 👀👀)

Hey hey!! Chsbshshshs stephcass!! I do ship it, but also in that tangential casual way that betrays my main character lens for tim dhsbsbsbsbs so i dont have any big things to say abt them, they’re also a partnership that’s gotten a lot of development preboot, and has a lot more nuances and conflict than how theyre often portrayed as a side ship, but im not the right person to articulate it djdbdhshd

Kontim however,,,,, bdjssjjsjss i do ship it! Just,, well.

1. It takes a pretty special type of reading lens to read them, esp during the late-yj/titans era and not come out at least noting their chemistry. I thought the writing was on the wall the moment they shared a team it’s also an archetype ship i usually gravitate towards.

2. Theyre???? Kinda insane, aren’t they??? Just by canon standards they take ‘best friends’ to a,,,, degree. It’s actually really cute, that lowkey onesided rivalry to loyal devoted friendship that had tim both change his colors in tribute and go on that whole cloning path in grief- just totally bonkers!! Who does that!! Dynamic wise there’s a refreshing lack of baggage between them that makes conflicts be relatively clean and keeps their relationship pretty simple, relatively. A very reasonable thing to come out shipping if you have read any of their comics together.

3. Bdshhdshdhshshs i feel like i have to press that this is my personal opinion, but for me, personally, any aspect of kontim as a ship that’s interesting i feel is found… somewhat more excitingly in other tim ships, so despite everything i said idrc for them that much dhshshshs a bit basic package bundle for me

((Bdshdhshdjd also the not scandalous than me just!!! Not wanting to step on any particular toes!!! Dw abt it 😔✌️))

#roppie gets a question?#kontim #thank you for coming in!!!!#i still want to press that i understand the appeal and do ship it tho shshshshddbdb /again/

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crackspinewornpages · 4 months

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Space Prison 4/4 -Tom Godwin

PART 2

Bill looks over the maps of the plateau Craig made and names it after him, when Delmont tells him the last Old One, Lake, died during the night. “Now he was gone-now a brief era was ended, a valiant, bloody chapter written and fininshed.”p.60 Now as the new leader Bill would write the next chapter, they have a lot to do to prepare for spring. Back when he left his bear behind, he promised himself he would kill the Gerns and not give them mercy. As he grew, he knew hatred alone was futile, they have to leave the planet, have weapons, everyone else needed to help. He had to be their leader and studied for eleven years to be the best. Now the first goal was complete, now to leave Ragnarok, for many it was wishful thinking, for him it was the driving force of his life. “There was so much for them to do and their lives were so short in which to do it. For as long as he was leader they would not waste a day in idle wishing...”p.60

Bill told the group they are better adapted than the Old Ones so will continue their work in expediting for metals in early summer. They would have to time it to avoid prowlers and unicorns as they migrate. Their longbows were too slow, so Bill assigned George to invent stronger crossbows. They made groups and discussed the need for gunpowder. If they don't find metals for a ship they’ll find a different way to leave, they can't do it now as the odds against the Gerns would be ten thousand to one,but will if everything else fails.

After four prototypes George made and approved crossbow that can shoot an arrow per second. George wants to bundle it with ten arrows so you can fire forty in twenty seconds. “If he can make something like that out of wood and unicorn gut, what would he be able to give us if he could have metal?”p.61 With George’s genius he could make an alternate plan for leaving Ragnarok if necessary.

After months the last snows were gone as the prowlers and unicorns, so no chance to test the crossbows. They explored the canyon and mountain only to find quartz mica in the creek bed. They followed it to find the source to a small spring, it took days to reach the summit and the chasm. At the bottom they could see smoke and wondered what it could be so climbed down, the heat from the spring increased, and they only found little pits. (dude they’re geysers would think you can do something with steam and thermal heating) After fifteen days they found red stratum of sandstone no iron and Bill felt the death of a dream. As they stopped for an evening Bill went to take a drink from the stream and found a gemstone deposit of ruby, sapphires and diamonds. “On a civilized world what you see there would buy us a ship without our having to lift a finger. Here they’re just pretty rocks.”p.64

They reached where they saw the vapor, a valey of greenery, they explored and saw a system of caves in the valley walls. They didn’t see life until Bill saw a mound of corn by a cave like something would come back for it. He went to the cave crossbow ready, when six things came to meet him, they looked like squirrels. (I imagine them more like ferrets) A yellow one looked at Bill and said he’ll eat him for supper and Bill thought he went insane. Bill asked the creature about it when someone ran up, he also encountered the things and Bill guessed he thought about eating it and this one reported it, they’re telepathic. Perhaps evolution made them telepathic and to report the danger, since they mocked him Bill calls them mockers.

The mockers could be eaten but were so friendly and trustful Bill couldn’t eat them, they had plenty of corn any way. (well at least they won’t go the way of the Dodo) The rest of exploration of the chasm became impossible so they stayed in the valley until the fall rains came. Then they resumed the journey with corn and two mockers, as they chattered Bill wondered if they could partially understand human minds. As they climbed up the mountain the mockers became silent and Bill knew they wouldn’t survive the elevation and they died the next morning. “The only things on Ragnarok that ever trusted us and wanted to be our friends-and we killed them.”p.67 They went on falling with more frequencey and Barber breathed his last.

When Bill reached the spring he rested for two days, when he continued up a gentle roll and face three unicorns. He rained arrows with the crossbow, two died and the third fled in pain, Bill quickly continued south as it would bring reinforcements. That night he reached the caves and told George it was just stains, no one found anything, they’ll have to try again next spring. George says it seems all Bill lives for is to kill the Gerns, as long as he’s leader that’s what they all live for.

That fall they went to the lowlands and found crawlers, venomous (they say poisonous but it’s wrong) centipede creatures (I just imagine those giant prehistoric centipedes that got like twenty feet long) that ate their prey alive. They killed one with a longbow and a band of twenty prowlers that could have killed them passed them by, perhaps to show appreciation for killing a crawler. They found nothing in the lowlands and on the way back found the barren valley where the Gerns abandoned them, the stockade and graves.

The corn they planted died before maturity and the other scouting party found nothing, Bill decided time was too precious, now to use the alternate plan of a hyperspace transmitter. They’d need a lot more supplies than they have, they need eight hundred pounds of metal. “The years went by and each year there was the same determined effort, the same lack of success.”p.69 By year thirty Bill had to admit vengeance was a luxury he couldn’t have and what of the future generations.

He remembered talking to Julia, childbirth might kill her but she hoped to leave a life more important in her place. (well...) She told him if he’s ever the leader it’s through the children they will survive, protect them, teach them to fight, never let them forget the Gerns will come again and they must be ready, they will adapt to survive. “But all the generations of the future would be potential slaves of the Gern Empire, free only as long as they remained unnoticed.”p.70 The Gerns will come back, maybe in centuries while on Ragnarok they’ll develop a false sense of security with myths of the Gerns that are no longer believed. “The Gerns would have to be brought to Ragnarok before that could happen.”p.70

George could build a transmitter without a receiver, the signal would reach Athena in two hundred years and the Gerns would arrive in forty days. Bill wil have the generations remember with the treat coming in two hundred years, they knew what happens if you forget the threat. (he was only five but he remembers) They melted guns and everything iron to make a generator, carrying water, breaking down electronics. In five years it was ready for testing, in year thirty five Bill sends one message, Ragnarok Calling. What is done cannot be undone, it will cause a lot of Gerns or people to die, it will be the Gerns. “I have to believe it because that’s the way I want it to be. I hope we’re right. It’s something we’ll never know.”p.71

The generator was operated daily until winter froze the water wheel until spring and the prospecting parties continued. The suns continued south and springs later, falls earlier, in spring forty five Bill made a decision. There was only sixty-eight of them (out of four thousand) and they had to prepare for Big Winter. They bult stoves, inner caves prepared for occupation with doors and ventilation. In year fifty there was sixty of them, (out of four thousand) they did all they could for what’s coming.

Bob Craig and Bill spoke by a Stove, not many Earth born were left but the Gerns would take them all since the younger ones are stronger. “There are dangerous jobs where a strong, quick slave is a lot more efficient and expendable than complex expensive machines.”p.71 Jim Lake says they would be cut open to see how they adapted and would still be alive for it. Dan Chiara says it would be better to all die than the Gerns get them, no one made an alternate suggestion until one says in the future there’ll be more of them, it’ll be different. “On Earth the Gerns were always stronger and faster than humans but when the Gerns came to Ragnarok they’re going to find a race that isn’t really human anymore.”p.72 If they don’t come too soon, but they had to take a chance and Bill again wondered if he had given them a death sentence. “Yet, the future generations could not be permitted to forget...and steel could not be tampered without first thrusting it into the fire.”p.72

Bill was forty six and woke with Hell Fever, he was the last of the Young Ones and would leave forty-nine (out of four thousand) to face Big Winter and the Gerns. He wondered if he lead them to execution but Julia’s words came back to him, teach them to fight never let them forget. Each generation would be stronger and he set in motion an opportunity for freedom, their destiny to beat and humble the Gerns.

Year eighty-five, it was one hundred and six below zero, Walter Humbolt watched from the cave for the sun to return after weeks. The transmitter was taken into the caves but the water wheel and generator where frozen, the glacier covered the plateau's southern face for ten years. There was no place but the caves, if they moved to the equator they would have to leave everything behind that might save them from this prison. Fred Schroeder told him they discussed if they stayed the snow will stay for years, if they leave they’ll have to go back to the stone age. They decided to stay as long as it’s possible to survive. (tough out an ice age for a generation or reduce society back to square one and start all over)

Howard Lake listened to his teacher reading off Walter Humbolt’s Big Winter history from thirty five years before and the decision not to migrate from the caves. (can tell they blame him for their terrible life) Then the teacher talks about the transmitter to call the Gerns, their history and how to take them out. Some of the children get scared by a passing meteor thinking it’s a Gern ship and Howard felt disappointment.

Ten years later Howard was the leader there was a hundred and fifty of them now, (out of four thousand) big Spring was on it’s way to Big Summer. There was a lot more to do now, in a few years they could continue prospecting but a bigger project was communicating between groups, the solution, the mockers. Five years later the snow receded and Howard lead a party of eight, they made sealed cages with an air pump and pressure gage. They brought back four mockers, corn and diamonds and the journey back up only took a day when Bill’s previous group took three.

They would release the pressure on the cages over weeks, two survived and had offspring and like Ragnarok children they were more adapted, the same with the corn. By the fifth year the mockers were adapted to the elevation but susceptible to pneumonia from the cold. After fifteen years of training they could transmit on command and where directed. They had communication, they had weapons, they were adapted to the gravity and had quick reflexes. There were eight hundred and nineteen of them (out of four thousand) by year one hundred and fifty, ready for the Gerns, by the time they could arrive it’d be Big Winter again. A hyperspace transmitter would need metal they don’t have and even then it’s a long slow job to build one at least fifty years with what they have but it would still bring the Gerns before Big Winter.

Howard sent out a team with mockers to look for iron, once they had to eat herbs to combat deficiency but like Hell Fever it was unknown to this generation. They followed the wood goats up the plateau, in a vale Howard splits the search teams. Howard’s mocker Tip was annoying him demanding food, Howard gave him some herbs and comments he thinks the mockers are on the verge of becoming a new intelligent life. At night he camps and calls the others, they had no luck and they might have lost one to unicorns. Weeks went by, they saw piles of bones of animals that got caught in previous blizzards and the days were getting chilly. A few days later Tip was quiet until he repeated Chiara’s mocker, Goldie, is dying of pneumonia, Howard tells him to turn back and comforts Tip for his lost mate.

Tip was lethargic for two days, on the third he refused to eat and Howard finally found iron clay on a dead wood goat. He sends the location to Schroeder as he goes ahead in case he gets caught in a blizzard. Days later the snows was heavy when he found the spring with a vein of iron clay. He calls Schroeder, he’ll build a monument and won’t make it back and to continue the project. He lays Tip down in a jacket and built up boulders as high as he could. He then couldn't find Tip in the snow until he calls back that he’s cold. Howard put him inside his shirt, Tip had pneumonia, Howard walked down the hill, he can’t make a fire and he fell in the snow thinking it’s warm (that’s the end stage of hypothermia) his only regret being Tip. It might have been his imagination when Tip sent back that he’s no longer cold, they’ll sleep now, it’s all right. (don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry cry lots)

PART 3

That spring Steve Schroeder was leader, they were going into Big Summer, a renaissance that would last fifty years. Then Big Fall would come and destroy all their work, then the Gerns will destroy them, it was his job to make sure they would survive. He went with nine men to retrace last summer’s route, they found the monument and Howard’s bones a few miles south of it and buried them. They used a diamond drill to mine the ore and made plans for the next year, they captured and hobbled ten unicorns, loading them with sacks of ore. They mounted the unicorns, they bucked as much as they could but spears to their sides forced them to comply. Every day they were pushed until exhaustion after they rested they resumed to fight, for days this was the routine until they reached the foot of the hill and unloaded.

George told him they have a new problem, the little aluminum they have is low grade, they can’t refine it. The generator and smelter are working but they need aluminum ore. The prospecting parties found none, but Steve swore to find it, to smelt aluminum oxide before summer was over. Then he saw the answer they all overlooked; he saw children playing. “Rubies were of no use or value on Ragnarok; only pretty rocks for children to play with...”p.82 Rubies and sapphires were corundum, pure aluminum oxide. He sent a party to the chasm to collect as much as they could. The generator went to life, the smelting box was fed crushed rubies and sapphires. “Molted aluminum flowed out into the ingot mold in a little stream; more beautiful to them than any gems could ever be; bright and gleaming in its promise that more than six generations of imprisonment would soon be ended.”p.82 (imagine that something so precious to us is so worthless children use them as playthings then it was discovered how precious they were no monetary wise but usefulness)

They exhausted the gems in the chasm but it was enough for the aluminum wire. It was year one hundred and fifty-two in eight more the suns would drift south and not be seen for another one hundred and fifty years, no time to waste. They made ceramics and glass, spun clothes from goat wool, parties explored to the lifeless oceans. (really no fish seaweed or anything when all life begins in the seas) In year one fifty-one the corn could be grown in high elevations and climate of the caves, enough for this winter and next year’s seeds. It was also enough to be made into bread, the first time they ate anything but meat. They could be less reliant on hunting, what they could bring on Gern battle cruisers.

The look for metal was trouble whenever they had to build machines or weapons but they did manage to build a rifle. A flintlock with ceramic bullets, more dangerous to the operator than effective. The goats were corralled, the young kept through winter, the old slaughtered, each generation more resistant to cold. The next year they trapped two unicorns attempting to tame them. The last twenty years there was a truce with the prowlers, they wouldn't attack if the men stayed away from their travel paths but a truce is not friendship. Three times young prowlers were captured but they paced in their cages until they starved to death and wild prowlers attacked each time. “To prowlers, as to some men, freedom was more precious than life.”p.83 No sign of any common ground except the will to fight, it wasn’t until year one hundred and sixty-one that the gulf was crossed.

When Steve was coming from a trip to the canyon a storm caused a flash flood, as he sought a way out he spotted a prowler running but not fast enough. He readied his crossbow on the ledge and he watched it struggle to climb a rock. Steve grabbed it by the scruff and pulled it up as the water rushed by with debris and other animals caught in it. Steve and the prowler watched each other on that narrow ledge, the prowler had a look of disbelief. They climbed out of the canyon and watched each other again trying to understand the others thoughts then the prowler left. “It was something they could not know-they were too alien to each other and had been enemies for too long.”p.84

Steve walked into the trees to a glade when he saw a unicorn, Steve shot at it but the bow string broke. Steve tried to dodge and was injured, he fought back losing his spear and knife, as he tried to find it in the tall grass the unicorn charged again. Then something behind him shot past and the prowler got the unicorn by the throat and the two were in a death match until the unicorn died, Steve guesses the prowler was watching him from the ridge. Steve set his broken arm and the prowler licked its bloody shoulder, that little bond made them brothers, a little bridge. When they’re done Steve says they’re even and thank you, the prowler made a sound too and left. “Ragnarok was big enough for both men and prowlers. They could live together in friendship as men and dogs of Earth lived together.”-”Perhaps he never would...but the time would come on Ragnarok when the children would play in the grass with prowler pups and the time would come when men and prowlers, side by side, would face the Gerns.”p.86

The next year there were two incidents were a prowler could kill a man but didn’t. unknown if it was the same prowler or the whole of them knew. Steve decided not to try stealing prowler pups it would destroy whatever this was, it would be better to wait in the short time they had. In fall one hundred and sixty-three his daughter Julia was the last to be born in the caves, there were plans to build a town, the goats were domesticated but the unicorns were still deadly.

In year one hundred seventy-nine Steve’s wife died, Julia was sixteen and married to Will Humbolt, that spring four months later she was pregnant, (what is it with old books being like yup sixteen just the right age to get married and start having kids) she’ll name him John and he’ll be the leader when the Gerns arrive. Steve remembers what Dale Craig wrote, that they can never forget what made them survive. “an unswerving loyalty of every individual to all the others and the courage to fight and die if necessary.”p.87 (remember the first few years when someone was hiding food) No one will help them when the Gerns come but if they have courage and loyalty in the future the Gerns are already defeated.

The era of danger was over for a while, the next generation grew up during peace, the Gerns wouldn’t shatter it but peace didn’t soften them. Julia was reading a book on a hill, he had warned her that unicorns were still migrating but she wouldn’t stay confined by the town. A unicorn spotted her and charged, Julia dropped the book and picked up her spear and thrust it under its jaw and neck killing it. Steve reached her as she was collecting the scattered pages of the book she was trusted to take care of but now the pages were torn and unreadable. She at sixteen killed a larger than average unicorn and was more devastated by the book she was intrusted with declaring she’s not a bemmon. (ah language evolved new metaphors) He tells her to make her case to the council and privately smiled as this generation still had courage and loyalty.

Julia later almost lost her life saving a child, they were playing under a half built canopy when a gust of wind knocked it over, she flung him out but got caught under it. Her chest and throat were torn by broken poles and for a day she was almost gone, by the third night she woke asking about her baby who was born five weeks later perfectly healthy. She couldn’t feed him while her breasts healed but for once they had spare milk from goats, it would be little but would last until the goats could give more.

Johnny was a month old when they got their allies, late at night Steve heard unicorns, the wild ones had migrated, the penned ones were sleeping, and the sound grew closer. He followed it to a clearing a half mile from town, a prowler was fighting two unicorns, one prowler and unicorn already dead. Steve killed them with arrows and the injured prowler fell, Steve went up to it, it looked at him like it wanted to say something before it died. Steve saw the scar on its shoulder and knew it was the prowler he had met fifteen years before.

Steve went to the female prowler she had piups recently and had been dead for two days, back legs were previously broken and almost useless that’s why they were so far behind. The mates took care of each other then she gave birth then the unicorns caught them. Steve found the pups still alive under tree roots, too weak to eat meat their father hunted, he knew the prowler was asking him to save them. He took the pups home but the goats wouldn't have milk for two weeks, maybe they’ll try broth. He names the female Sigyn (the wife of Loki who started Ragnarok) and male Fenrir, (the giant wolf son of Loki who fought alongside him at Ragnarok) he kept trying the broth and different kinds, by morning it all failed and they were too weak to cry. “They would be dead before the day was over and the only chance men had ever had to have prowlers as their friends and allies would be gone.”p.89

Julia came to her father’s house with Johnny and a bottle of milk, he never had enough. “Johnny was hungry-there was never quite enough milk for him-but he was not crying. Ragnarok children did not cry...”p.90 (that’s just sad) Julia saw the pups and he told her what happened nineteen years before but the pups will starve by the end of the day. They stirred at her fingers and she felt compassion and she tells Johnny they can’t let them die, he’ll share his milk and one day they’ll fight for him. Johnny started to protest as his milk was given to them but one touched his hand and he had sudden understanding. He waited for his turn and accepted them as if they were his brother and sister.

Steve watched his daughter and grandson, his role was nearing its end, the last generation was being born, they would meet the Gerns witrh an ally. This day was like a prophesy, Johnny was from a line of leaders, whose mother killed a unicorn at sixteen. He wasn’t hungry to share with a savage species that would be beside him when he led the battle against the Gerns.

PART 4

John Humbolt was the leader in year two hundred, Big Summer was over, the Craigs already covered in snowfall for years to come. Two children herded goats while guarded by prowlers, as the summers grew shorter there was less food for the goats, soon they’ll be back to hunting exclusively. From forty-five they were now six thousand (you went from four thousand down to under fifty and up to six thousand within two hundred years how genetically bottlenecked is this population) almost civilization but decline was coming with Big Winter. They would have to migrate either as nomads or in Gern ships, they were almost ready. The hyperspace transmitter was almost complete, weapons ready, mockers trained, prowlers waiting and the unicorns wanting to kill.

Sigyn and Fenrir went to greet John, the prowlers had a kind of telepathy with their masters and understood complex instructions, more intelligent than mockers despite their lack of speech. (so this planet’s fauna developed telepathy what evolution made that possible and are the unicorns also telepathic) John grew up with the two and felt there was nothing they couldn’t conquer together. A messenger prowler came up with a mocker, they need John at the council, the transmitter is complete. The Gerns would arrive in one hundred days, the fighters would grow out their beards and dress in animal skins to appear primitive inferiors. An underground passage would hide the women and children, the town already built near the landing site where the unicorns and prowlers would be hidden in the woods.

The generator was done by day nineteen, the transmitter working and John sends, Ragnarok Calling. It was a long summer of anticipation and the prowlers grew restless for their masters enemy. On the hundredth day the Gerns arrived as John was starting to worry they would have to face Big Winter. As warning calls sounded in the town and everyone got in their places, “There was no way of knowing what might happen before it ended. But whatever it was, it would be the action they had all been awnting.”p.93

The cruiser landed where it was expected to Charley Craig (they keep reusing names and it's so confusing) and Norman Lake lay in concealment with their prowlers and mockers as others got to their stations. A few men milled about in sight as a lure to the town, near dusk finally thirteen Gerns left the ship. (their only real description is them having black skin but I just imagined them looking like the evil aliens from Galaxy Quest) John made sure everyone was in place as the Gerns blasted the stockade and struggled in the gravity. The Gern, Narth, tells his communicator that the descendants of the abandoned Rejects adapted astonishingly, they could be used for labor. The Narth ordered the strong ones taken, intelligent ones to be interrogated and the young to be experimented on, he doesn’t believe someone so primitive sent that message.

The men didn’t respond to the command in terran to come over, when they went to force them John gave the order and the startled Narth ordered them to be killed. The gravity made their moves too slow and they got arrows in their throats. Narth orders them to drop their blasters and quickly they were bound in their own chains, the men weren’t impressed by them. John gives orders to his mocker Tip (a descendant of the first Tip) and Sigyn, Tip was to be a spy and listen to the Gerns and come back when they call. The Gerns flashed search lights on the town before more armed Gerns poured out of the ship. Through Tip they learned a full force is on its way and the blasters are programmed to explode when used by a non Gern now. (a precaution from Schroeder I would assume) John orders the signal to attack, the Gerns were too slow to defend themselves efficiently and took out more of their force than the men.

The Narth orders a retreat and for the ship blasters to kill them, the unicorns arrived to kill them with their spear wielding riders. John orders Craig and Lake into the ship followed by twenty more men and fifteen prowlers. A warning sounded and air locks closed, only nine men and four prowlers made it through as Gerns came to kill those trapped. They split to take the drive room and controls and nine waiting Gerns fired at them. Fenrir and Sigyn had it delt with in seconds, in the corridor only Lake and Fenrir were left standing and Sigyn had a serious injury. John, Lake and Fenrir took the control room killing several surprised Gerns.

Before Fenrir could kill the commander John halts him to disarm him, the stunned commander is in shock, if they surrender, he’ll free them, Lake slaps him and tells him never to lie. (yeah they remember what came of the last time the Gerns spared people) He checks on Craig, two of them made it to the drive room, Lake checked the viewscreen, they won. “But there was no feeling of victory, none of the elation he had thought he would have.”p.99 Sigyn was still alive waiting for them, John managed to stem the bleeding, it would take weeks to recover, it was then he felt victory.

Lake asked the Gern how the war is going, they’ll have Earth soon, Athena is still enslaved. John has him order the other Gerns to leave their weapons and remain in quarters or he’ll break every bone working his way up. John and Lake looked at each other, wearing animal skins they took over the ship and it worked to catch the Gerns off guard. “You weren’t supposed to survive.” “I know,’ he said again. ‘We’ve made it a point to remember that.”p.100 (rule number one make sure your enemy is actually dead before you leave the room) Left on a planet with no resources but dangerous animals, they adapted and were made stronger than the Gerns, they made allies of the prowlers and took control of the ship. For two hundred years they had plans for it, in sixty days they’ll have Athena, that’ll be the beginning and the Gerns will help them.

For six days the ship was busy, interrogating Gerns, patrolling, after a mocker was killed by an angry Gern then that Gern was killed by a prowler the mockers were safe. One Ragnarok boy was held hostage and killed, Lake then killed three Gerns with their own knives. (eventually) The operation of a Gern cruiser was similar to Terran ships most of it manual for slower reflexes. On the seventh day they left Ragnarok, by then the Gern commander was no longer useful as he was confined to his compartment and went delusionally mad. Narth had become cooperative and by day twelve they let him have what he thought, he was sneaking access to a transmitter. After that he let his hatred show and anticipation evident. “The thirty-fifth day came, with Athena five days ahead of them-the day of the execution they had let him arrange for them.”p.101

John watched the red dots appear on the viewscreen and he changed course, the increased gravity caused Narth to sway. He reveals to Narth they knew, Narth tells him the new battleship is three times the size of the cruiser, they plan to make it a flag ship. Narth believes their fools paradise is at an end and they’ll televise what they’ll do to the village to all Gern worlds as a reminder what happens to those that resist. John warns the Gerns to strap in for the accelerated maneuvers, they already have plans. They’ll hand over Athena to the humans, the Ragnarok men will be given ships and with Earth ships they can capture the Gerns in the solar system.

Normally a space battle is blasting and dodging, the acceleration has a safety limit for the crew, but the Ragnarok crew is accustomed to high gravity, so it’s been disconnected. As Narth says they’ll kill them all John accelerated and cut him off, knocking him around in his seat until he lost consciousness. Even John strained under the weight as they dodged past the battleship blasters. The maneuvering continued closer to the battleship and tightened the spiral and the magnetic grapples fastened to it. John then gave an ultimatum to the battleship commander, the acceleration limiter is disconnected. it’s powerful enough to thrust both ships more than one gravity worlders can endure, surrender or be killed. “If you surrender we’ll do some what better by you than you did with the humans two hundred years ago-we'll take all of you to Athena.”p.103 They surrender.

Narth awoke with John beside him and no Gern rescuers, they captured the battleship, it wasn’t hard. (if it wasn’t so serious I could see John going what like it’s hard) Narth asks what good it will do them to have Athena and Earth, they won’t escape the consequences the Empire has dozens of worlds. John says they’re not like the Gerns, they wont delay for posturing, they’ll have a fleet when they leave Earth, they’ll cripple and capture the Gern fleet and destroy the Empire. “When a race has been condemned to die by another race and it fights and struggle and manages somehow to survive, it learns a lesson. It learns it must never again let the other race be in position to destroy it. So this is the harvest you reap from the seeds you sowed on Ragnarok two hundred years ago.”-”For two hundred years the Gern Empire has become a menace to our survival as a race. Now, the time has come when we shall remove it.”p.104

John watched Athena’s sun in the battleship viewscreen, one more day, two hundred years later they’re coming to what was supposed to be home. John wondered, “Have any of us ever thought of that-that we’re all different to humans and there's no human world we could ever call home?”p.104 Lake has been thinking, “We could lie on human worlds-but we would always be a race apart and never really belong there.”p.104 Craig supposes they’ve all thought about what comes after, not Earth, Athena, they won't go back to Ragnarok. John says there's a lot to do but the battle is already won, a peaceful life won't be satisfying. Taking out the Gerns will only take ten years. “Where is there a place for us-a world of our own?”p.104 There's a whole galaxy, thousands of worlds, maybe races like the Gerns, maybe races like they used to be and need help or maybe things no one’s ever imagined. They’ll go, some will want to stay, always restless ones, out there are homes for all of them. It was settled, the battleship and cruiser driving on as the Constellation two hundred years ago.

“A voyage had been interrupted then, and a new race had been born. Now they were going on again, to Athena, to Earth, to the farthest reaches of the Gern Empire. And on to the wild, unknown regions of space beyond. There awaited other worlds and there awaited their destiny; to be a race scattered across a hundred thousand light-years of suns, to be an empire such as the galaxy had never known. They, the restless ones, the unwanted and forgotten, the survivors.”p.105 (and there it is the original title of this book)

(so that gives a lot to think about it’s been generations as they adapted to a hell planet and form their lives around survival escape and killing their jailors it almost becoming a religious doctrine after they achieved that what’s a society to do they are now displaced and no longer have a goal to strive for what comes next)

FIRST

#space prison #tom godwin #books #book summaries #science fiction

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ruiniel · 6 months

Text

Remember

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Kokushibō x fem!Reader/Kokushibō's wife

Count: 2.7K

Rating: 🔞

Chapter Tags & Warnings: Sengoku era flashbacks, Reincarnation, Codependency, References to childbirth but nothing graphic, Obscure childrearing practices, References to marechi blood, POV Second Person, POV Tsugikuni Michikatsu, blood drinking, dub-con elements veering into non-con, you see how this just keeps getting worse

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX

On AO3

IV.

There’s never been a waver in his step, not quite like this. The breaths he takes are plentiful yet not enough, and the way to the chamber feels like an ever-lengthening corridor, swallowing the destination even as he strides across it.

He’d heard you, by all the gods he did: on his way to the village, and on his way back during those long hours, the whimpers and low sobs as you tried to keep silent for the sake of bravery more wretched as time passed.

Incredible, how joy can flourish from hardship. The midwife appears, bows after she closes the sliding wall with small, nervous fingers. “Michikatsu-sama.”

“Sumi, how is she? How are—they?”

“All is well,” the woman says, as calm as only one experienced with this process can be. “I’ve left Yuwa to keep watch over her.”

“... to keep watch? What for?”

“Yes, Michikatsu-sama, for the seven days after the birth it is good for one to not fall too deeply into sleep, and we must help—”

What? If an exhausted soldier has survived a heavy battle, rest is paramount to regaining their strength. Why would a new, weakened mother be denied this vital need?

“That makes little sense to me, Sumi.” He tries to be kind, he does: he is grateful for the dutiful care they’ve all displayed towards you and more relieved than he’s been in years. “You should have asked.”

The midwife’s eyes are set on the ground, the quirk to her lip hinting at a differing view; but she keeps her peace, nodding and moving aside to make space.

His hand has been steadier when gaining access into this room before, true, and what Michikatsu finds as he enters helps little in alleviating the condition.

Yuwa sustains you, propped up against rolled-up quilts, appearing so spent it tears at him. Clutched at your breast like a dragon’s egg is a bundle, a tiny thing he can’t even see properly, partly shielded by the fall of your hair. His mouth opens, then closes. You must not have heard him, your eyes half-closed, a sheen on your skin even after the women washed and changed you.

“Yuwa… leave us,” Michikatsu says, and at his voice your expression livens, your gaze set on him as he slides the panel closed. A smile brightens your weary face.

The girl, who also looks tired, furrows her brows and bows low. “My lord? I was assigned by Sumi-sama…”

“No longer.” He shuffles close, unable to keep his eyes off your face, your chest, your–face–the tiny paw-like limb resting against your skin— “I will watch her tonight. You may retire.”

Once alone, Michikatsu nears and carefully drapes himself at your side, caressing your hair, kissing the top of your head. The paw moves, stirring a beat as silent as a butterfly wing.

“He’s…”

“Yours.”

Michikatsu smiles at the tint of humor in your voice—he probably looks as lost as he feels, then, so he clings to you, worn by this unfamiliar whirlwind of emotion. You shift, making yourself more comfortable against his shoulder.

“I’m here.”

“I know.”

“I’ll be here every night.” His thumb grazes the hand holding your child to your breast.

Your eyes close, your sigh warm against his neck. “I know.”

You glance briefly at the priest, met with his soft smile. He’s easy to speak to, and despite being skeptical you decided to return and see if he did find any written knowledge on the nature of your abnormal experience. You can’t help but yawn every few minutes, your eyes on the old scroll unfurled on his small desk. Your sleep has been terrible the night before, with vivid dreams of peculiar nature flowing one after the other. You barely remember most of it and woke with the weariness of having run an entire day. Work at the factory left its mark as well, but still, you want to get this over with.

“A sleepless night?”

His voice is as warm and soothing as summer rain after a drought. “I’ve been having… intense dreams lately.”

“Oh?”

He seems genuinely interested, and you want to tell him more—you want to tell him everything, and yet… “It’s nothing, just… gibberish. It’s nothing.”

His striking eyes are on you, their pupils darkly set in the middle of his bright irises. “Either way, I have unfortunately found nothing to fit your description. But,” he raises an elegant finger, sighs, then taps it against his desk. “Nevermind. You would not believe it.”

“... what? After what I’ve seen, I… I admit my views of the possible have been amended, if only a little. I’m willing to hear it, if you would share.”

“I see… well, simply put, Mrs, the notion I am referring to is the existence of other creatures aside from ghosts… people would refer to them as demons.”

He was right. You do have trouble believing this. But well… “That’s indeed not something easy to grasp. I've always treated this, all of this, as folklore.”

“I’ve never heard of an encounter myself, but there are rumors… unexplained deaths and disappearances, people speaking of secret organizations dealing with dangerous things lurking in the night… Oh well,” the priest waves a hand, his reassuring voice a contrast to his words. “It might only be people’s rich imagination. We do have plenty of that, don’t we?”

You smile, rising to your feet. “Thank you for trying.” The disappearances you’d heard of, another reason you avoided traveling at night alone. It had been so ever since—... You shake off the memory.

“Of course, any time,” he bows. “If anything else happens, you will always find me here.”

You’re grateful, walking with him to the gates outside, where a clear night has settled. After saying your farewells, your tired body announces itself, craving rest.

There’s no other option but to head out, making a point of reaching your home as fast as possible.

Maybe you’re overthinking all of this, maybe you simply are exhausted and your mind conjures images like living dreams. You’ve read about such fancies befalling people, but then you remember: the inexplicable need to be close to him, the pressure on your lips that last time you saw… him? It?

Setting your desk to chop vegetables for dinner, the trail of your thoughts tapers away into mundane worries to the dull repetitive sounds and motions of your cutting knife.

The silence is broken so unexpectedly, your hand slips. “AH!” You stare absently at the thin trickle of blood seeping from the cut on your finger, your hearing caught on the sounds of a… flute?

What’s more, you know that sound. You’ve heard it before, so many times it tugs at your chest. You grab a cloth and press it to the cut as you hurry outside, thinking your hearing might be playing tricks, which says little about your deteriorating state of mind.

But instead, you see…

“You!”

He’s propped with his shoulder against a pine tree, playing a tune you’ve never heard before and yet feels painfully familiar.

When you speak, he ceases to play, raising his gaze to you—those unnerving eyes of intense red and gold able to see beyond your skin, or so it feels. “Why… why have you appeared?” The priest’s words ring in your mind.

He rights himself, nearing you silently in a sure glide. He extends a hand and you realize, he’s offering you your flute.

“You had left it, by the bench, last time. It was still there.”

You press a hand to your mouth, thankfully taking the object from him. His skin feels so cold, impossibly cold. “Well… you… play well.”

He says nothing, watching you with that eerie stillness that sets your nerves on edge. Demon?

“Why are you here again?”

He glances away for a moment. He looks rather dignified, comes the thought. He faces you beneath the yellow, artificial lamplight. Shadows play on his unusual features like living tentacles. “I’d like to speak, if…”

His voice is cut abruptly, as though an invisible hand took him by the throat. His gaze roams all over you as if seeking something, settling on the piece of cloth wrapped around your finger.

“Speak… to me?” And like having icy water poured down your back you remember how your last meeting ended, and shame warms your face. What had gotten into you, then, anyway? How could anyone have been taken by such thoughts and in relation to him no less?

He had good reasoning… it was foolish of me. When no other word leaves his mouth, you cross your arms at your chest, tucking your hands around your body. “Oh, I cut myself. It’s not deep.” But the oddest thing: he won’t react.

“You’re bleeding.”

What a strange concern to insist upon. He looks different, the lashes of those kanji-adorned eyes heavier, as though fallen under a trance. “Is… is something the matter?”

“... no.” His chest rises, then falls in a deep breath. “I do not have an answer.”

Your confusion has reached such critical levels, you find yourself wanting to shake him. “About what?”

“Your question. Last time.”

You think, replaying the moment…. Why do you keep coming here?

“I see.”

“But…” he pauses again and swallows thickly. “But I can share other truths, and a warning.”

You don’t seem fazed, and he carries on despite the weakness in his knees and the thundering of his own blood in his veins. The moment he felt the scent, he knew it for what it was and now he is fiercely, desperately hungry.

He ought to—

No.

Flee from you? That happened once before; never again.

Instead, he takes another step towards you. The craving shivers through him like fissures of desire. Focus, you are stronger; you have been, for a long time.

“Demons… a reality…” Your voice holds incredulity after he's shared with you the forbidden knowledge, but your features—alarmingly—show curiosity more than any other emotion.

“You see, the priest was not lying.” Now standing inside, he slowly takes hold of your injured hand, a strange emotion snuffed fast when you let him, so trustingly. He places your palm on his chest, “Am I not real?”

“You feel real,” you murmur. Your hand is warm, heated with your blood. “You have a pulse, a quickened one.”

Upper Rank One forces himself still, the smell of that rare blood like a shield around you. He loathes it; he wants it. “The priest… is not human.” Doma knows what he's doing, and manipulation is his crown tactic after all. “And neither am I.”

He expects disbelief to change your face, or at the very least for you to draw back in a burst of human survival instinct.

You do neither. If anything, you feel closer, weaving with this situation like a moth in spidersilk. A situation he failed to retreat from, reopening a wound he still cannot locate. And that, well, that is infuriating.

No matter. Once he’s finished, your doe-eyed thrill will surely fade.

“You're not human,” you repeat, now studying his features with intense focus: his eyes, the letters engraved in them. The sight might make others flee as it has before, but you seem to take it in stride. You linger on the flame-like mark adorning his jaw, snaking down his throat as your hand feels the fabric of his kimono between curious fingers.

“I would…” This closeness fuels a need so selfish he must steel himself to speak without a slur to his voice. “... not return to that temple if you value your life at all.” Your body warmth is like a furnace, closer, not close enough.

You frown. “You mean to say, the charming priest so many people trust and take refuge in... has ill intent?”

He nods. “The beings you call 'demons'… they need flesh and blood to thrive. Human.” His clawed fingers circle your wrist, removing your hand from him.

“And, you…”

“I have consumed many across hundreds of years.” The blunt truth is always the best way. Nowadays, he rarely indulges. The potent blood of that man flows through him as if he’d been turned yesterday. But that changes nothing of the past. “Now do you understand…”

“I do. I try… but somehow, even if I don’t even know your name, I don’t quite believe you’d hurt me.” You pause. “... is something the matter with you…?”

Are you immune to all sense? You must be. You’re staring at him with no fear, your pulse still beating against his palm—he’s not released your wrist, as if drunk on all the wine he could not drink for centuries.

"Is that what it is?... Is that the reason you’re trembling? Are you hungry?”

Your question and the awareness in your eyes as you ask it surprises him. And he realizes, that he is indeed not mastering his body as before. “No, I’m…”

He would never tell you, would he? Giving anyone a tactical advantage against you is always a bad decision, leading to many downfalls. Your rare blood spilling makes him weak, like he could fall into the sun and die singed by its heat, uncaring of all existence, of the mission given to him by the only one stronger than he, the regrets he’s forgotten and the ones he cannot; a hateful state of being, and one he must shed as soon as possible. But, how?

You near him even more, your head tilting to meet his eyes. “Forgive me for being so forward last time.”

He lingers like that, watching the pulse at your throat leaping like butterflies trapped beneath your skin. “There is nothing to forgive.”

“Do you need it? Will you have it, if it helps you?” You’re pointing at a large vein in your forearm.

What an unbelievable, ludicrous turn. “You would… give of your blood to me? Freely?”

His throat aches, the need to feed stronger than it has ever been in recent memory. The fear he hadn’t sensed in you before is present now, its trembling aura rippling around your spirit. He wishes he could feel sympathy, to retreat, and he knows you’d be dead by his hand if he wished it, and still…

You nod, breathing deeply. “A settling of scores. You saved my life, back then. So, consider it… an offering? All debts are paid.”

“There is no… debt.” What a strange being you are; what a foolish one, he thinks, drawing nearer, his gaze locked on yours. If this were a battle, this faltering balance would cost him.

“There is.” Your voice is tinged with uncertainty.

“It will hurt.”

You nod as though to say, ‘I accept that’.

Your face, your damned face… he’s seen these features before, he knows this determination. But the memories jumble and merge with one another, the hundreds of years having churned them until their dust is scattered over his mind with little meaning. You’re close enough to touch, close enough…

In a breath, his hands are iron bands around your wrists; he slams you into his body so strongly you gasp, arms crushing you close, head tilting to inhale the skin at your neck.

“Wh—”

His fangs dig deep, closing on tender flesh.

Your heart rages against his chest; you writhe as he drinks and drinks, the taste of life drowning his reason with brutal, unyielding force. He does not hold back, wants you to know and feel the enormity of what this means. Here… this is what you agreed to… will you be as brave next time?

You might have whimpered, you might have wept. Words barely reach him; weakly, you squirm against him, the pleas to release you smothered by a delectable rush infusing every cell in his body. If anything, it spikes the thrill.

“A moment longer... Hisa… a moment…”

A name, foreign yet known to him. He finally ends his feeding as the tension in your limbs eases, blood-stained lips gliding along your jaw, the grip on you slackening; when he feels your body softening against him he lifts you in his arms, turning to gaze around your household.

You’ve fallen unconscious, eyes closed, your head lolling to one side. “I warned you it would hurt,” he murmurs, kneeling and laying you on the futon in what looks like the sleeping chamber.

The taste of your blood is sweet on his lips, searing down his throat and lapping like languid flames at his insides.

The blood… then, this is the reason. The reason why he kept returning here, rather than retreating alone anywhere he deemed. Why do threads of confusion cut him when he looks at you now, lying there motionless, your breaths heavy?

No, no ... That is not the reason. He should drink you dry and end this wallowing. He’s always known or predicted all the variables in a situation to tilt things in his favor, except for now.

You groan softly as he stares into nothing, and that stirs an uncomfortable urge to remain by your side. The demon reaches, smoothing strands of hair away from your wet forehead. He should drink you dry, yes. But he won’t, and neither will anyone else.

Part V

#ruiniel:fanfiction #kokushibo x reader #kny x reader #kokushibo #demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #demon slayer

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comfortscripts · 3 years

Note

Hi <3

Could you do how each Marauder would kiss you for the first time? Like the confidence levels for each would be soooo different I think and just the way they'd go about it, idk but yeah

First Kiss ¬ Marauders

Of course! Honestly, I have so many thoughts but....

Also for this, I just did James, Sirius and Remus but I am willing to do other Marauder era characters (including girls) in the future.

James Potter

"Honestly James, it's embarrassing at this point. Just admit I'm the better keeper"

This had been going on for years. Both of you claiming to be the best keeper in Hogwarts, neither willing to submit. Some say it's rivalry, some say it's unresolved sexual tension but whatever it was, you and James loved it.

"Let's make this interesting, shall we?" The Gryffindor retorted with a smirk. "Whoever saves more goals during practice wins and that's the end of it."

"Okay, deal Potter but if I win, you have to stand up in the Great Hall and announce that I'm the best. Got it?"

You see the flash of fear run across his face before he responds with his same cocky smile, "And when I win, I want a kiss."

Before you could make some form of objection through your flushed cheeks, James was already in the air and prepping for the friendly competition.

You were both on fire. The pitch replicated a professional practice rather than a school-sports one but for every one he saved, you saved two. Whilst you did sometimes long to feel the Gryffindor's lips against your own, the idea of him praising you so publicly was too good to give up. And it seemed like the push worked, you won.

Landing back on solid ground, the two sweaty keepers reunited. James' couldn't even be upset at his loss when he saw your face. Pride beaming through your smile as your flushed cheeks framed it and your skin glistened. You were magnificent.

"Good game, I guess you really are the best" Offering his hand out for good sportsmanship hand shake.

Grabbing his hand and closing the space between you, now chest to chest. "I think you deserve a consolation prize for your efforts today, Potter."

The collision of your lips against his was more thrilling than any quidditch match. Pent up tension releasing in waves as you feel the bespectacled boy get over his initial shock and lean into the kiss. Lips melding and moving together, all whilst allowing your hands to grip his broad shoulders. Pulling away to regain your breath, you look up at the flustered boy as he too, steadied his breathing.

"Well, I think in some ways we both won" Joked the red and gold keeper. Causing you to giggle at his cheesy flirts.

"I guess so but you still have to do the announcement. Maybe you should wear my house colours for effec-" Before you could complete your sentence, his lips were back on yours. Not that you minded.

Sirius Black

Hogwarts was a soothing place in general but nothing could beat the astronomy tower. The atmosphere, the fresh crisp air and the silence meant that it was almost the perfect way to escape. And tonight, that's what two young Gryffindors needed.

Leaning against the brick tower, you let out a sigh of relief. Worries and fears washing from your bones as the stars shimmered in the sky and your best friend blew a puff of smoke.

"You what's crazy, the stars have seen everything. Love, happiness, life but also pain, suffering and death. Yet they still shine so brightly, it's inspiring."

Sirius was never a stranger to profound thoughts, especially on these late night excursions but this shook you. Pushing off the cold wall, you shuffle towards the dark-haired boy before sitting shoulder to shoulder and admiring the stars alongside him.

"You're right. I guess that's why you are named after a star."

You knew how much pain the boy had bundled up within himself but still, he could outshine any star in the galaxy. He had endured more pain than he could ever deserve but still managed to light up people's lives and make people feel more love than most.

Sirius swore his heart stopped at your words. His brain was telling him that it was obviously you hearing him wrong or a joke, he managed to choke out a small "What do you mean?"

Turning to look at the oblivious boy, you could almost chuckle at his adorable furrowed eyebrows and quirked smile but instead, you offered the truth.

"Sirius, you are a star. You have been through so much that I couldn't even begin to imagine but every day, you get up and make the most of life. Bringing smiles to peoples' faces, making all of us laugh with your pranks, loving your friends and protecting us no matter what. You are the impressive one and honestly, those stars pale in comparison to you."

Gazing into his eyes, you saw emotions swirling through his stormy orbs. Processing your words and conjuring up a reaction but nothing seemed right. How could he respond to you? His love for you already threated to spill out every time your eyes met but now, he worried that opening his mouth would release his confession.

As yours eyes stayed locked onto one another, neither of you noticed your bodies unknowingly leaning towards each other. Sirius notices your eyes flicker down to his lips, this was all the confirmation he needed before leaning in and meeting your supple lips.

The love that radiated off the two of you was more powerful than any spell you had learnt. Feeling the warmth spread through your being as Sirius deepened the kiss, trying to get closer. His arms wrapped around your waist as he drank in your sweet lips. You felt all the hidden emotions, all the pain and sadness of the night drift away into the distant sky.

All that mattered was you had Sirius and he had you.

Pulling away only to find yourselves lovingly embracing the other, protecting your bubble of happiness just a while longer. Sirius always knew that you made him shine brighter but now, he felt that he could outshine the stars.

Remus Lupin

Rainy evenings were always your favourite. But tonight was perfect.

James, Sirius and Peter were off pulling a prank on some unsuspecting 2nd year Ravenclaws, whilst you and your long-term crush were huddled up in the common room with two muggle books and two steaming cups of hot chocolate. You had no idea how the lanky wizard looked so comfortable on the sofa but you weren't complaining as you felt your knee bump his every once and awhile, sparks erupting at the physical contact.

Diving into the pages of the latest muggle book Lily gifted you, becoming so lost within the words that you didn't notice the chocolate moustache you had left after your previous gulp. The rich chocolate liquid which formed a frame over your plump lips caught the attention of Remus, who had be sneaking longing glances at you all night.

Your book induced trance was broken by Remus' hearty chuckle, a sound that you could listen to on repeat. Breaking away from the words, you looked up to find the werewolf already looking at you with an amused look painting his handsome face.

Immediately becoming conscious of the fact that the amusing thing was you, you released a small whine, "Remusss, why are you laughing at me".

"You have a bit of, well. You have a hot chocolate moustache"

Eyes widening in embarrassment, you quickly attempt to wipe away any chocolatey remnants with your sleeve before presenting your face back to the taller boy and asking, "all gone?"

Scooting over so he was looming over your figure, hand resting on your knee to steady himself. Remus reached up to gently wipe away the remaining flecks of chocolate that settle in the corners of your lip, allowing his thumb to caress the outline of your bottom lip.

The moment seemed to last forever, with the both of your eyes locking together as the young Gryffindor cautiously traced the outline of your jaw before entangling his hand within your hair, bringing your lips together.

The overwhelming sense of emotion accompanied by the rich lingering taste of chocolate engulfed the both of you as you leant into the kiss, resting hands on his shoulders. Remus raised his hand to grasp your hip and slowly move you closer toward his embrace.

You always thought that your first kiss with the werewolf would be more passionate and spark filled but no, this felt like home. This felt like you had fallen into his arms and discovered you belonged.

Breaking away, you stared into his amber orbs. Looking for any sign of regret or fear but you found that his eyes were filled with adoration and love, matching the very same look you held for him.

Giggling as the now giddy Gryffindor pressed a flurry of light kisses on your plumped lips, you knew that this would beat any love-story in any muggle book because this, this was perfection.

#sirius black x reader #harry potter #harry potter fandom imagine #mauraders #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #sirius black imagine #james potter imagine #james potter x reader #the mauraders #marauders drabble #remus lupin drabble #james potter drabble #sirius black drabble #drabble #ask response #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin

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fandom-puff · 4 years

Text

All Day Long

Relationship: Remus x Sirius x Reader (marauders era)

Requested by: anon

‘RemusxReaderxSirius set during their time at hogwarts where they both tease her during the whole day until shes begging them to ruin her?’

Notes: this is only the second time I’ve written remus x reader x Sirius so hope you enjoy!

Warnings: threesome (in an established polyamorous relationship) teasing, edging, use of toys, choking, Dom/sub dynamic (including degradation), double penetration, swearing.

****

Smiling to yourself, you waited in the entrance hall for your boys, all bundled up and ready for hogsmeade, dressed in one of Sirius’s quidditch jerseys and Remus’s scarf. Once you caught sight of them, you hurried over, easily slotting yourself in the middle of them. “Ready to go?” You asked brightly, but Sirius grabbed hold over your elbow, leaning down.

“Before we get going, Remus and I have some rules for you, okay, pup?” You bit your lip, only just clicking onto the dark look in Sirius’s eyes, nodding quickly.

“You’re not to come until we say so, and that will be when we’re back at the castle,” Remus murmured and you nodded again. “Verbal answers, darling,”

“I’m okay with that,” you said softly, eyes flicking between them both.

“Good girl. We will of course, be making it a bit trickier for you, but I’m sure you’ll manage,” Sirius said, before clapping his hands together. “Right then my lovelies, I do believe we need to make a quick visit to Zonko’s,”

***

This was a bad idea. When Sirius said they’d make it ‘a bit trickier’, what he really meant was they’d make it ‘a lot trickier’- damn near impossible. It all started out relatively moderate, with Sirius just resting his hand on your bum while he looked at the displays, giving it the occasional squeeze or pat which went unnoticed by the bustling crowds.

Then Remus flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath and-

You gasped aloud, quickly covering your noise with a gasp. Remus had clearly been practicing his vanishing charms- a vibrator had appeared in your underwear, already in position with part of it inside you, the other part on your clit. He must’ve been hiding it in his pocket, waiting for the right moment. To your relief, the toy didn’t start buzzing straight away, but the knowledge that it was there (and completely out of your control) turned you on. Composing yourself, you waited for Sirius to pay, before the boys guided you to Honeydukes.

As you were browsing the newest range of sweets, remus flicked his wand again, and the toy began buzzing ever so gently, not nearly enough to stimulate you properly, but enough to get you considerably more riled up. You glared at him over your shoulder as you picked out your sweets, before taking them to the till. Just as the lady asked how your day had been, remus changed the setting of the vibe, to a strong pulsing sensation as you hurriedly gave your answer, your knees trembling. The woman talked and talked as she bagged your items and Remus only increased the settings more, smirking with Sirius as he watched you try to remain upright. When the woman finally handed you your purchases, you stumbled over to your boys, biting your lip hard.

“Please,” you whispered desperately. “I’m so close,”

Sirius grinned and steered you out of the shop, an arm around your waist as you stumbled. “That right, pup? Gonna cum from a toy in your knickers, eh?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his hand until... the vibe switched off completely. You looked up to remus now, who was smirking and tutting. “Remember thd rules darling?” He said, almost condescendingly, before leaning down to kiss your cheek. As he pulled away, he muttered “we will not allow you to cum in the middle of the street like a little slut,”

You squeaked in response and nodded before slipping each of your hands into one of theirs. “Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Remus said gently after a brief bit of wondering- through which he and Sirius had took turns controlling the vibe, bringing you to the edge and dragging you away every few minutes.

“Yes please,” you mumbled, nodding eagerly and looking up at both of them pleasingly. “Please can we go back,”

“Awww, what’s wrong, pet, are you desperate for us? Desperate for us to completely ruin your sweet cunt?” You shivered at Sirius’s crass words but nodded nonetheless, and the three of you began a rather hurried walk back to the castle.

***

Door firmly locked to avoid any unwanted visitors (unlikely, as James, lily and Peter were still in honeydukes while you had been walking back), you were being showered in kisses, pinned against the wall by Sirius as remus transfigured his bed to be a little wider to fit all three of you. When he was finally, finally done, Sirius pulled you over, and you eagerly tossed your coat and scarf aside before remus came up behind you, pressed firmly against your back, grinding his stiff cock against your arse as he switched the vibe on. Sirius grinned, tossing your jumper aside and magicking your jeans away- it seemed he too was getting rather impatient. Remus smirked, unclasping and discarding your bra, until you were bare (save for your knickers as they were holding the toy in place) before them.

“Fuck, princess, you look so good,” remus breathed, kissing your shoulder as your hips rocked in thin air. You whimpered, grabbing at Sirius, who had been gently stroking and pinching your nipples. He smirked slightly.

“What’re you after pup?” He smirked and your eyelids fluttered.

“Your mouth, please, Sirius, on my tits, please,” you begged, pushing your chest out to him and your bum back into remus. Sirius happily complied, suckling gently on one nipple, continuing to fondle the other with his hand. Remus groaned lowly, feeling you squirm back against his cock, and he grunted, trailing his hand up to your throat. You whimpered softly, tipping your head back and resting it against remus’s shoulder. Just as he applied pressure, he flicked his wand, putting the toy on the maximum setting. You keened, the sound a little broken due to the hand around your throat, your eyes wide. “Please!” You whined. “Please, I’m so close, let me cum, remus, please Sirius, please!” You babbled, unable to stop your wriggling hips and trembling thighs.

Sirius released your nipple with a pop and looked over your shoulder at remus, smirking. “I don’t know... what D’you reckon, Moony?” He smirked, and you whimpered, whole body shaking with effort.

“Don’t be cruel, Pads,” remus grinned, holding you up. “I think our girl deserves to come, don’t you? She has behaved exceptionally well, given the circumstances,”

You moaned softly. Pair of utter bastards, dragging this out as long as they could. You dug your nails into Sirius’s arm, whimpering pathetically. Sirius hummed. “Fine. Cum for us, pup,”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Shaking, screaming and writhing like mad, you came, your hips bucking wildly, hands scrambling to hold onto them both as Remus held you up from behind and Sirius held the toy in place in case you dislodged it.

Moaning lowly, you reached your hand down, the buzzing toy becoming too much. Sirius grinned and removed your knickers and the toy, holding it up to show you as remus pulled you into his lap, shushing you gently. “Look at that, Moons,” Sirius grinned. “Look how wet she made this. Look at the mess you left all over this, puppy,” you whined at his teasing and hid your face in remus’s shoulder. Sirius smiled and came closer.

“We’re both very proud of you, babygirl, you followed the rules so well,” you nodded in response, biting your lip hard. Despite having jusg come, you wanted more, much more, and wriggled your hips absentmindedly, grinding on remus’s cock, while staring at the considerable bulge in Sirius’s jeans.

“What’s up, darling?” Remus cooed. You mumbled into his neck but he lifted your chin. “Use your words,” he instructed and you gulped.

“I-I want your cocks,” you said, trying not to hide your face. “T-together. At the same time,”

Sirius and Remus locked eyes for a moment, both of them inhaling sharply as they felt something primal deep inside. “Do you want one of us in your sweet little cunt, princess?” Remus murmured in your ear.

“And the other in your tight little arse?” Sirius smirked, already reaching for his wand. You gulped and nodded quickly.

“Yes please,” you said eagerly, already scrambling to kneel up. Remus laughed gently.

“Steady on love. C’mere,” he beckoned you to lie on your side, crooking his finger at Sirius to lie facing you.

“Sirius is going to fuck your pussy, aren’t you, Sirius,”

“Hmm,” Sirius grinned, very thankful that magic made undressing so much quicker. You bit your lip hard and palmed his cock as you reached up for a gentle kiss. Sirius soon knocked your hand away, guiding his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a long, low moan at the feeling of being adequately filled after a day of being on edge.

“There’s a Good pup,” Sirius grunted, grasping your thigh and slinging it over his hip, pulling you closer and fucking you deeper. You let out a whimper, burying your face in his chest as you rocked your hips.

Remus smirked at his two lovers trying (and failing) to hold back. He cleared his throat, pushing your hair out of the way so he could kiss the back of your neck. “I’m going to use a spell to prep your little arsehole, darling,” he murmured into your ear and you nodded eagerly, moaning ‘please’. Remus mumbled something and you squirmed, tensing up and making Sirius groan slightly. Your arse was sufficiently lubed up and, as remus rolled a condom on and pressed the blunt head of his cock to your hole, adequately stretched. He hissed as you clenched slightly, before pushing back against him, taking more and more of him until his was fully inside you.

Both of your boys stopped for a moment, letting you squirm and adjust and get comfortable once more, before you looked up at them frantically. “Please move!” You begged, trying to push back into Remus and forward into Sirius to urge them to move.

“You want us to fuck you, pup?” Sirius groaned. “Want us to pound your holes until you scream?” You nodded desperately, wriggling, squirming.

“Good girl,” remus groaned, grasping onto your hip as he began a slow steady pace. It was a heavy contrast from the brutal rate at which Sirius was fucking your pussy, and your head swam with the sensation. You were just so damn full and you were loving every second of it, a garbled, barely coherent mix of names and curses and praises spilling from your mouth.

Remus grunted and reached over you, pulling on Sirius’s hair, smirking as he growled. “Fucking hell,” Sirius groaned, his eyes rolling back. “So tight, puppy, can feel you squeezing mine and Remus’s cocks,” he praised you and you whined out.

“Please more, please, faster, please!” You whined, arching your back. Sirius and Remus nodded at one another before stopping briefly. You were about to complain, but they began thrusting into you, in sync. While previously they had alternated, reducing you to a whimpering mess, this change of pace had you screaming in ecstasy, the double penetration nigh on doubling your pleasure. “Gonna come!” You moaned out, every muscle in your body tensing before the band snapped and you shattered, coming with lustful cries of their names. Remus groaned, tipping his head back, cock twitching inside of you as he came, and Sirius followed soon after with a shout.

Limp, spent and almost asleep, you withered, trembling with the aftershocks. Groaning, Sirius kissed you hard, praising you, before remus tilted your head for an equally passionate kiss. “Was amazin’” you slurred, well and truly worn out. Remus laughed softly, using magic to clean you all off, summoning a goblet and filling it with water.

“Drink, both of you,” he ordered gently, and you were both happy to comply, as once you had finished, Sirius tugged the blanket over you all, snuggling under the covers with you. You turned to nuzzle into Remus’s chest as Sirius did the same to your back, his arms coming around your waist. You smiled softly as you all exchanged mumbled ‘I love you’s, slipping off into a much needed sleep.

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @Dracosbbygorl @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @purpleskymalfoy @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

#remus x reader x sirius #wolfstar x reader #remus lupin x reader smut #Remus Lupin x Sirius black #remus lupin x reader x sirius #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black smut #harry potter #hp #request #harry potter imagine #wolfstar #wolfstar smut #2021

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meichenxi · 2 years

Text

Update: hnnnnn

this is just a rant, feel free to ignore. but explains why no korean news.

I get up at 5:45 for work, and get home at around 5:30-6. After getting home and masking for an entire day I basically lie on the floor in the dark for three hours. It takes that long before my brain starts to boot up. I cannot begin to describe how exhausting it is talking to people and teaching and being normal and everything being loud and never being told anything and being expected to rewrite a lesson plan with zero notice with no real reason other than a vague ‘oh...I think it would be better another way’ and being told 12412 conflicting things by different people and also being treated like a nice pet that’s all shiny and new and being incredibly patronised. (I do something and my boss is like ‘Wow! My English daughter from [X university] is so clever! Such a genius!’ and then micromanages every aspect of lesson planning including moving tables because where I put them is ‘not good’.) And being normal.

A significant part of this is just me dealing with working with other people. Every day I learn things about myself and they are Bad. I’m a chill person! I’m flexible! I’m fun! I like meeting new people! Literally all lies. I stalk around the school as a bundle of pent up rage behind a slightly manic smile. I am, as the cool kids say, in my JGY era. Reverting back to my primary school days of being an ‘unusually aggressive child’ who ‘doesn’t engage in team activities’ and ‘shows no interest in other children’. ALL THE COOL KIDS HATE TEAM ACTIVITIES (and other children). These are all things about myself I like to conveniently forget. Shocked and offended when they turn out to be relevant to daily life.

Also everything is loud. And everyone talks. And even with my nice headphones in I can still hear them. And they all make water-cooler conversation. And every time I walk down a corridor the entire school population says hello / tries to gift me their pencils / touches my arms / shrieks and runs away / screams HELLO TEACHER and dissolves into giggles.

Also like. My room is an absolute disaster - I don’t have any food and am living off oats and instant noodles (if I eat enough at school lunchtime, I won’t *need* to cook right - not ED, don’t worry, just ADHD). I am also feeling very despondent because I can’t do ANY of the things I love because it takes too much brain. I can’t write. I can’t do languages - which is a disaster for Korean, because there is no point during the day when I can sit down with a fresh brain and learn. Chinese is ok because I can just do Anki (and I vaguely know most of the words in the HSK deck I have seen so far, I just don’t know how to write them / need a reminder / got the tone wrong etc, so they’re not totally new) and listen to podcasts (the walk to school is 50 minutes each way, so....I will be listening to a LOT of podcasts) and watch dramas. But Korean...at this stage of learning there is no passive learning. It’s all active. I’ve tried the TTMIK podcasts but - maybe unpopular opinion - I can’t stand the presenters lmao they’re so annoying. They take 15 minutes to say what could be said in literally 3 and then don't give you enough examples and just spend the other 12 minutes making the same jokes every single fucking time. JUST TEACH ME KOREAN WE ARE NOT HERE TO BE FRIENDS. (I am angry about this a normal amount. If anyone has a recommendation of less pal-y podcasts that don’t try to be #fun and #relatable please let me know. Literally the most boring grammar shit please I can’t stand anything else teeth gnawing biting gnashing ready to rip plaster from the walls)

And my mood is very low. Objectively the new school is great, and I like the students. It’s just always not a particularly fun time full of sexy introspection when you realise your three neurodivergencies in a trenchcoat mean working with other people in literally any capacity is enough to make you want to strap yourself into an rocket and fire it into the sun.

#cw ed mention #cw food #meichenxi manages #ironically not posting this to my personal blog because my well-meaning friends will reprimand me #'you can't be mentally well if you only eat oats! you need to shower!'#fuck off I know #if things were that easy :))))))) they'd be easy :))))))))) and I wouldn't have any problems :)))))))#anyway don't expect a korean update in a while lmao #adult is just. everything sucks and then you have to make food #regaining control of the system by aggressively not doing the latter and befriending the 7-11 man

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 6,949 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, violence, gore, discussions of death of a character, sexuality, nudity, typical TWD A/N: STUFF. IS. HAPPENING. This is part of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: After the losses suffered during the fight with the Saviors, the communities try to change directions after a couple of plans go awry.

Your name: submit What is this?

The dawn was red as you watched the sun break over the horizon from the guard platform at The Hilltop. With Daryl’s arms around you, you had managed to get some sleep, but you awoke early while it was still dark. You’d crept from the trailer and out into the cool air, forcing in deep lungfuls.

You were staring out over the peaceful morning. The cresting sun set dewdrops on the grass on fire. It was silent and still. It was surreal that the world was still turning despite the terrors of the day before, the losses, the grief.

Your detached musing was cut short by the sound of soft footsteps and you turned to see Daryl climbing the ladder up to the platform. He stepped off and gave you a long look. Of course he knew just where to find you. He thought you still looked dazed, the way you had when he’d found you alone, kneeling at Eric’s grave. You turned back to look again toward the rising sun and Daryl moved beside you, leaning on the wooden wall with his forearms, his blue eyes flitting over your face, looking at the warmth the sun was giving to your skin.

“Aaron is going to take Gracie,” you said suddenly. There was a rasp in your voice, some artifact of exhaustion, grief, tears.

Daryl nodded and turned his attention to a knot in the wood of the wall in front of him. He picked at it absently. “Thas good,” he rumbled.

You turned to look at him again and he saw the same desperation in your eyes. “Why did it have to be Eric?” Your eyes filled with glistening tears. “He was pure good. Like Aaron. He wasn’t a soldier. I should have made him stay in Alexandria. I should have—”

“He wanted to fight,” Daryl interrupted. “It was his choice. Just like it’s yours or mine. He wanted to fight for Aaron. And for you, and for Alexandria.”

The tears broke from your eyes and streamed down your cheeks and you hastily wiped them away, ignoring the sting as the salty water wet some of the cuts on your face, remnants from the car crash the day before.

“We headin’ back today?” Daryl asked.

You nodded. “Yeah. I think—I think I’ll drive Aaron and Gracie. He shouldn’t drive.”

“Should you?” Daryl asked gently.

You straightened up, chewing your bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment. “I’ll be fine.”

Daryl trusted your judgement. “Okay.” He moved a touch closer to you and wrapped his arm around you, his fingers resting lightly on the small of your back. Both of you kept your eyes fixed on the sunrise, needing the reassurance of the rising sun just as much as you needed each other. “Aaron’ll—he’ll be alright. With time.”

You looked back over at Daryl and nodded, though you didn’t look any less sad. “I know.” You clasped his face in both hands and he watched as your eyes closed. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his and Daryl kissed you back softly, smoothing his fingers into your hair, brushing it away from your face. When you pulled back, you managed to give him a small smile. He drew that out of you even in the worst times. “You’ll be careful? On your bike?”

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “I’ll stay right with ya. After yesterday, I ain’t splitting off from ya again. Especially now that we’ve hit ‘em hard. Negan and his assholes will be like goddamn cornered wasps.”

You sighed and leaned into him. Daryl draped his arm across your back and rested his hand on your hip. You were looking back out toward the pinkness of the sky, glowing with the still low sun. “I want him gone,” you said, and this time your tone was hard and sharp. “I want him dead for what he’s taken from all of us.”

Daryl chewed his bottom lip and nodded. “I know. So do I.” The archer sighed. “S’almost done. We’re in the home stretch.”

“Unless they get out of The Sanctuary,” you said, turning to looked at his handsome face, his blue eyes. “Unless the plan doesn’t work.”

Daryl shook his head. He wanted to ease your fears, but he had the same worries. “Even then. We’ll get him.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

You had to take a long route to get back to Alexandria, making sure no one was on your tail and avoiding the roads you and Rosita had wired up with explosives. Luckily, the trip was uneventful and you arrived home safely with no major issues. Once the gate was closed behind the car, you drove slowly to Aaron and Eric’s house, Daryl just behind you on his bike. You parked and shut off the engine, glancing in the rearview mirror at Aaron in the backseat. He was staring down at the little pink bundle in his arms—Gracie. You climbed out and pulled his door open. “Come on, Aaron. We’re home.”

He looked up in surprise, no concept of how much time had actually passed. You helped him out with Gracie still in his arms and gave him a perceptive look. “Go on inside. I’ll be right there,” you said.

Aaron simply gulped and nodded, heading through the garage, past Daryl, to the door that led into the house. Daryl glanced back at you after tossing the tarp over his bike. “How’s he doin’?” he asked.

You shrugged. “He didn’t say a word the whole drive,” you said, your brow furrowed in deep concern. “Listen, I think I’m gonna stay here with him and Gracie tonight. He might need some help.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, deeply appreciating how you could be both so badass and yet soft when the moment called for it. “Good idea. I’ll be down at the house checkin’ in with everybody if ya need me, alright?”

“Okay,” you said with a nod. You stared at him for a long moment, your forehead still creased with that little worry line you always got.

“C’mere,” Daryl said, reaching his arm around to pull you in toward him. “It’ll be alright. Aaron is a tough son of a bitch. And now he’s got that little girl to look after.”

You fell against him and breathed in his familiar smell. “I know. I just miss him. So, I can’t imagine how Aaron is feeling. It doesn’t even feel real yet.” Daryl planted a kiss in your hair and you glanced up at him and gave him a small smile before your face turned serious again. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Me neither. But it ain’t happenin’.” Daryl gently lifted your chin and kissed you, slow and sweet. “I’ll come by in the mornin’ alright? See how you’re doin’.”

You nodded. “Night,” you said, letting your fingers slip from between his. He took a few steps away and then glanced back at you.

“S’gonna be weird not havin’ ya next to me sleepin’ tonight,” he commented. You nodded. “I’ll miss ya,” he drawled.

You smiled at him again. “Same. See you in the morning.”

You watched him fade down the street until you couldn’t distinguish him in the growing twilight. You stepped into the house and when you pushed inside, Aaron was standing just over the threshold, holding Gracie, and looking completely lost. “Aaron?” you said gently, touching him on the sleeve.

“Huh?” He turned and looked at you, dazed.

“Come on. Let’s get you in and sitting down with her, okay?” You led him by the elbow into the living room, averting your eyes from Eric’s boots sitting just inside the door and his sweatshirt tossed over the back of the couch.

Aaron sank down onto the couch, looking completely exhausted, but staring down at Gracie like she was the only thing on the earth. “Okay. Here we go.” You draped a blanket around Aaron’s shoulders. “I’m gonna go get her bag out of the car. Then I need to see about some more baby things for her. After that,” you sighed, “you need to eat something.”

Aaron nodded, which was more than you were even expecting. You rushed out to the car sitting at the curb and pulled the bag from the backseat. It had a few changes of clothes and diapers in it, along with some formula, but she would need more. She needed a crib, and more clothes and formula, and toys… You set the bag down next to Aaron. “I’m gonna go to the clinic and see what they have for her. Will you be okay here by yourself?”

He gulped and looked up at you. “Yeah. I’m okay. We’re okay…” he trailed off quietly.

You gave him one last parting glance before nodding and heading out to the clinic. You were able to get some more diapers and formula, bottles and even a few toys. You were still missing a crib for her and definitely would need more clothes, but it would be a good start for Aaron. You stopped by the pantry on the way back to pick up something to make for dinner, hoping you could convince Aaron to eat something.

As soon as you got back to Aaron’s, you set out some water to boil on the stove and later threw in some pasta. You got a bottle of formula ready for Gracie and brought it over to him, where he was still sitting frozen on the couch. “Here,” you said, handing it to him. “I’m sure she’s hungry.”

“Thanks,” Aaron said, taking the bottle and almost smiling. You leaned your chin on your hand, elbow propped up on the back of the couch as you watched him feeding Gracie. “Eric and I always talked about having kids but obviously in this world—” he broke off, looking suddenly desperate again, and you reached out and rested your hand gently on his arm, unable to stop tears from welling up in your own eyes.

Aaron gave you a grateful look. “Thank you for being here,” he said. His voice was a raspy whisper. “I didn’t know if I could come back here alone.”

You nodded. “Of course. And you’re not alone.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Amazingly you had gotten Aaron to eat a small amount before he said he was going to sleep with Gracie in the spare bedroom. Going into his and Eric’s master bedroom would be too hard. You helped him set up an area with clean blankets for her on the floor and you gave him a tight hug goodnight. “I’ll be down on the couch if you need anything, okay?” He nodded and thanked you again and you headed downstairs and flopped down on the couch, pulling the blanket over you and tucking your knife in its sheath under one of the throw pillows. At first your mind wouldn’t quiet, and all you could think about was a never-ending string of what ifs. What if the Saviors showed up at the gate? What if Negan got out of The Sanctuary? What if they brought down the walls? What if you had missed some outposts? But surprisingly, exhaustion from the battles of the last few days, physical and emotional, got the best of you and eventually you sank into a deep sleep.

“You know what I want to hear from you?” Negan’s deep voice drifted over you and your whole body seemed to go numb, except that you could feel his breath on your neck. “I want to hear you beg me.” You could tell he was smiling.

You turned and met his eyes. “I’m not really the begging type. You know that.”

He chuckled to himself and then you felt his hands on your hips from behind, pulling you back against him. “Come on now, Y/N. Don’t be like that. You’re my wife, after all. Don’t you want to please your husband?”

You gulped as his fingers dug into your hips tighter.

His voice next came from right beside you ear. “Or did I make a mistake marrying you? If you’re unhappy with our little arrangement you only have to say so… But you know I wouldn’t be able to give you or your brother any special treatment. That wouldn’t be fair to—”

“No,” you said urgently, your chest heaving. “No. I’m not unhappy with our arrangement.”

You felt his lips and then his teeth on your earlobe. “That’s my girl. So… beg me. I want you to tell me exactly what you want me to do to you…”

“Y/N!”

You shot upright on the couch, absolutely drenched in a cold sweat and when you got your bearings you looked up and saw Aaron standing over you. Gracie was in his arms, crying at full volume. You wiped a shaky hand over your brow and threw the blanket off your lap. “Oh, God. I’m so sorry—I was—it was just a nightmare,” you said, saying it to yourself as much as you were to Aaron.

He was bouncing Gracie in his arms and looking at you with almost frantic worry. “You were yelling,” he said, fumbling in the nearby baby bag for a pacifier.

You squeezed your eyes shut but immediately opened them when a flashback of your dream immediately came forward. You could see Negan as if he was really right there in front of you. You could still feel his fingers digging into your hips and his breath on your neck. You blinked the sensations away and knelt down beside the baby bag, unzipping a side pocket where you had seen the pacifiers. You held one out to Aaron and Gracie immediately latched onto it and quieted. You leaned your back against the bottom of the couch and rubbed your hands over your face. “I’m sorry,” you said again. “This is the last thing you need. Me in your house freaking out over nothing in the middle of the night.”

“Stop,” Aaron said, still looking at you with concern. “There’s nothing to apologize for. Y/N, you have PTSD…”

You looked up at him in surprise. “I don’t think it’s—”

“It is,” he said gently, not stopping bouncing Gracie who seemed perfectly happy and content in his arms now.

You pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth and chewed it anxiously for a moment. You’d never thought about the lasting effects of your past in that context, but you had to admit that he was probably right. The flashbacks were vivid and there were certain sounds, certain smells that elicited completely involuntary terror in you. You pulled yourself up off the floor and sank back down on the edge of the couch letting out a long, slow breath. “Huh… Well, to be fair, doesn’t everyone have PTSD nowadays?”

Aaron gave you a sad look. “Are you okay?” You nodded.

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about this happening because—I haven’t had one in so long,” you said.

Aaron’s worry eased some and his furrowed brow relaxed. “Since Daryl?” he asked.

You caught his eyes a little sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah. Since Daryl pretty much.”

The next moment you could see the look in his eyes shrinking away, and you knew he was thinking about Eric. “I’m gonna go back to bed, okay?” he said gently. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“I’m good.” You stood and peered down at Gracie, gently brushing a finger over her silky soft cheek. “Goodnight, you two,” you cooed.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning there was a quiet knock on the front door and you went to answer it, Gracie nestled in your arms. It was Daryl. His heart skipped a beat at your little smile and the sight of you with that sweet bundle in your arms.

“Hey. Mornin’,” he said, stepping into the front entryway. “Aaron?” he asked, one of his eyebrows lifting in quizzically.

“He’s asleep, actually. And he deserves it,” you said, turning and leading the way quietly into the kitchen. “I, uhh… had a—nightmare last night. Or a… flashback. Woke him and Gracie up at some ungodly hour.”

Daryl’s hand went reflexively to your waist. “Are ya alright?”

You nodded. “Fine. It was…nothing.” Daryl looked a little unconvinced. You looked down at Gracie’s wide blue eyes. “I’m okay.”

He nodded. “Listen, I ain’t tryin’ to pile more on ya but… Rick ain’t back yet. We were expectin’ him by now.”

You gulped and looked up at Daryl, trying to read exactly how worried you should be based on his expression. “You think something went wrong with the scavengers?”

Daryl shrugged. “I dunno. All I know is I can’t stop worryin’ about those Saviors in The Sanctuary managing to get out, clear of the damn herd, and catchin’ us with our pants down.”

“Yeah… Same. But what can we do?”

It was then that Daryl told you his plan to crash a truck into the building and break the place open, letting the walkers get inside. He’d already talked it over with Rosita and Michonne and they both said they needed to see the place for themselves anyway.

“I just figure the longer we wait, the more time Negan has to figure somethin’ else out.”

You stared at him for a long moment. “Alright. Fine. I’m in. When are we going?”

He anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “Nah. Ya should stay here. If Rosita, Michonne, and I go, ya should stay and keep an eye on things.”

“You want me to stay here while you go back there? Close to Negan? Are you crazy?” you asked him.

“Y/N, listen to me. If shit goes sideways, ya should be here. Rick ain’t here. Who else is there? Besides, Aaron needs ya.”

Your jaw clenched and Daryl watched the muscle twitch. “I don’t do sidelines well,” you said.

For some reason this made him smile, despite the grim topic. “Ya, I know. It ain’t the sidelines. It just ain’t the frontline.”

You sighed and went to set Gracie down on a blanket spread on the floor. You considered the handsome archer again for a long moment before nodding. “Fine. But promise me you won’t get yourself killed. Don’t do anything too reckless without me.”

“I promise.” He moved close to you now and smoothed his hands over your sides before resting them on your hips. You ran your hands up his strong arms and brushed some of his hair away from his face.

“When are you going?”

He gulped. “In like an hour,” he said. He watched you carefully for your reaction but you simply sighed.

“Alright.” You arched up onto your tiptoes and kissed him, your arms looping around his neck. Daryl kissed you back hungrily and even lifted you off your feet for a brief moment, causing you to smile into his lips. When he pulled back you smoothed your hand down his chest. “I’ll see you later,” you said pointedly.

He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. Ya will.”

He kept his promise. And the plan sounded like it had worked. The truck had cracked open the front of the building and the herd had started to pour in. But now there was still more excruciating waiting, and worse yet, Rick still wasn’t back.

Aaron watched you endlessly pacing across his living room with a sleeping Gracie in your arms the next morning.

“Y/N.” You looked over at him. “I’ll take her. You go home. Go be with Daryl.”

Your brows contracted, leaving that little worry line in the middle of your forehead. “Are you sure? You’ll be okay?”

Aaron nodded. “Yeah. And it’s probably time I let myself really feel it. I’ll be okay.”

You gulped and wished you could banish the empty feeling between your lungs at his words, at the devastation on his face, but you couldn’t. You nodded and handed Gracie over to Aaron. “You know where I’ll be if you need me,” you said gently, smoothing your hand over her soft hair as she settled happily into Aaron’s arms.

“Yeah. I know.” You gave his shoulder a light squeeze and managed a small smile for him.

“Okay. I’ll check in with you tomorrow, okay?”

You left Aaron’s and headed straight for Daryl’s house, knocking lightly on the front door. Rosita pulled it open and greeted you, stepping back to let you inside. “Daryl’s downstairs,” she said. The mood was notably subdued in the house, obviously because everyone was worried about Rick… You were too.

“Daryl?” You called down the stairs.

“M’down here. C’mon down.”

You actually had never been down in his space before. Since you had an empty house, the two of you always stayed there. You moved into the dim space with interest, glancing around and seeing Daryl’s old poncho slung over a chair and a few collected odds and ends scattered around.

He was laying on his bed, drinking in the sight of you. Even in the low light he could see the bruises and flecked wounds on your face from when the Saviors had caused your vehicle to crash. Your eyes took in the space, eventually landing on something familiar he had on his nightstand. “Hey,” you said with a smile. “That’s what happened to this.” You grabbed the familiar scarf and ran the soft material through your fingers. “What’s this doing here?” you asked him curiously.

“Ya left it. That night after ya pushed me into the damn pond,” he drawled. You sank down onto the edge of the bed beside him.

“And you just decided not to give it back?” You teased him with a smile.

He shrugged vaguely. “Smells like ya,” he admitted. You gave him a fond look and replaced it where you had found it.

“You can keep it,” you said. “God, that feels like forever ago. To think I was just walking around, never having kissed you. What the hell was I doing?” you said.

“What the hell are ya doin’ now? Ya gonna lay down here properly with me or not?” he asked.

You laughed and immediately sunk down on top of him. His arms wrapped around you. “Hi,” you said softly.

“Hey.” He gave you a more serious look. “How’s Aaron doin’?”

“He’s—he’s okay. I think. He told me to come home.” Daryl nodded and chewed on his bottom lip. A look of worry seized him again. You smoothed your hand over his chest, your brow drawing low over your eyes. “You’re worrying about Rick,” you said. He nodded.

“Those scavengers… I dunno…” he trailed off. “Got a bad feelin’.”

“Rick is a tough son of a bitch,” you said. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Yeah. I ‘spose.” He gently moved his hands underneath your shirt so he could feel the softness of your skin. It sent goosebumps rising up your arms. “Ya gonna stay with me tonight?” he asked hopefully.

You nodded and ran your fingers through his hair. Daryl’s eyes closed at your touch. “If you’ll have me,” you said softly. The archer could hear a smile in your voice and was glad for it. Things had been so dark since Eric’s death.

He opened his eyes and blinked up at you. “Oh, I’ll have ya, alright,” he drawled, a mischievous look on his face. The next thing you knew he’d swung you over onto the bed and you were underneath him, laughing in surprise and then sighing as he kissed your neck.

You looped your arms around his neck and gave in happily, glad to disappear with him into a blissful bubble, even just for a short time.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Several days later

Still no Rick. And the group was gathered together trying to decide what to do. Everyone was in agreement that something had to be done, but the details were up for debate.

“Something is definitely wrong,” Michonne said. “I think it’s time we head there for ourselves.”

You straightened up from your place leaning against the kitchen island. “We can’t just all go. It’d leave Alexandria even weaker. And what about The Saviors?” You glanced at Daryl, shaking your head. “I think it’s time we do a little check-in, don’t you?”

Michonne sighed, but nodded. “Fine. Then I’ll go after Rick. Alone.”

“Michonne, that’s not what I’m saying,” you said sympathetically.

“I know. But you’re also right. There’s too much to deal with and too few of us. Someone should check-in with the other communities and we definitely need to figure out how much longer it’s going to be before Negan and his asshole starve to death in there. So, I’ll go alone. It’ll be quiet, too. It’ll be good.”

“Are you sure?” Rosita asked her, clearly worried. “I can come with you,” she said.

“I’m sure. I’ll leave now. Stay here and keep this place safe. I’ll bring him back,” Michonne said.

“Be careful,” you said, giving her a nod.

“Who’s going to pay The Sanctuary a little visit?” Rosita asked.

“I want to see it,” you said urgently. “I mean… I haven’t seen it since the fight. I just—I need to see it.” It still didn’t feel real.

Daryl gave you an understanding nod. “Alright. You and I will go. We’ll take my bike. See if there are any messages from Dwight. Rosita, get extra watches on the walls and make a radio call to Hilltop and The Kingdom.”

She nodded. “You got it.”

So, you set off to The Sanctuary, both nervous and feeling tense with anticipation. You were hoping that seeing the place all hemmed in by walkers would give you some sense of satisfaction, lift some of the angry weight on your shoulders, but you knew that was probably wishful thinking. That weight wouldn’t be gone, the flashbacks wouldn’t be gone, the anger and anxiety wouldn’t be gone until he was gone.

But as soon as the building had barely come into view, you knew something was very wrong. Your arms tightened around Daryl’s waist and he hurriedly pulled his bike into a hidden spot alongside a building. You stumbled getting off as fast as you could and immediately had your hand on your rifle, rushing to get to a spot where you could look through the scope. Daryl was hurrying to get his bow off his bike, frantically watching what you were doing.

He heard you murmuring to yourself as he arrived next to you at the vantage point. “No, no, no… No! No, that can’t be—Daryl, tell me that—”

He lifted his binoculars and peered at the building. He didn’t need to look long. His jaw dropped partially open and then he lowered the binoculars from his eyes. He glanced at you. Your face was contorted a little with a slew of emotions; disbelief, anger, confusion, surprise, fear… all of them blended into one shitty milkshake you felt like had just been poured down your throat. Daryl’s blue eyes were narrowed in a glare and you watched his jaw clench.

You raised the scope of your rifle to your eye again and stared at the stacks of walkers that had formed a protective barrier around the double doors. “This was fucking Eugene,” you growled, “This was Eugene.” You dropped the scope from you eye and Daryl was worried for a moment that you might actually collapse. You leaned heavily against the brick wall and sank down to the ground. “He’s out. He’s fucking out…”

Daryl gulped and took another look at the building. Was this his fault? Had crashing the truck in somehow made this possible? “Fuck,” he growled. He let out a few angry breaths and considered punching his fist into the wall, and maybe he would have if you weren’t there, reeling.

“Fuck!” you repeated, shutting your eyes and leaning your head back against the wall. “What the fuck do we do now?”

Daryl glanced down at you and shook his head. “We go home. And then we come up with a new plan.” He hesitated and anxiously chewed his bottom lip. “‘M sorry,” he said.

You looked up at him in surprise. “This isn’t your fault,” you said softly. “This is—this is fucking war. It’s just how it is…”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“He’s out there and we don’t fucking know where!” you yelled. “Listen to me, Daryl. If we don’t want him to hit us here then we have to make sure he’s somewhere else. And right now we have no clue where the fuck he is!”

“Yeah, no shit. How the hell we gonna do that, huh? Go out there? Thas suicide! We don’t know how many of them got out. Obviously, they’re still pretty well fuckin’ armed!” he growled back.

You sighed heavily, getting near to it now. “There are three people Negan is guaranteed to show up for. Rick, you, and me. Out of those three, there’s only one person he wants alive.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “No. Hell no! Ya ain’t goin’ out there as bait!” he roared at you.

“This is the right call,” you said urgently. “You know it is! If we tell him that I want to talk about a truce we can lead him away from the communities and—”

“And give him the perfect opportunity to get his goddamn hands back on ya!”

“That’s not gonna happen. We just need to get him somewhere we can control and then—”

“No. I ain’t lettin’ ya do this! We’ll figure something else out!”

“How? We’ve already lost so many people. We’re low on ammo and guns and supplies…” But your jaw was set and your chin was inclined. “I don’t need your permission. If it was anyone else besides me who was going to bait him out, you know you’d say this was the right call. Hell, if it were you, you’d be out the door already!”

Daryl paced angrily in front of the bed, rubbing a hand over the stubble on his face. “Nah. It’s insane. Ya ain’t doin’ it.”

You heaved a sigh. “You can’t stop me, Daryl. I want this over! I just need this to be over!” Your eyes were a bit wide and desperate. “I’ll use their radio and call him up. I’ll tell him I want to bargain a truce. I know how to manipulate him. I’ve done it before, remember?”

He let out a scoff. “And then what? Ya think Negan is just gonna waltz in to a meeting unarmed? Ya think he ain’t gonna roll up with a crew?”

“We’ll have more time to plan than he will. We set a small crew of sharp-shooters ahead of time. We get everything set up and then I give him a tight deadline for the meeting. He won’t have time to put some crazy, elaborate scheme in motion. If I do it right, he won’t be able to resist. Hell, I might even be able to convince him to come alone! Either because he really thinks we’re gonna cave now that he’s out, or because he thinks he’s going to—to be able to have me again. It wouldn’t be completely unprecedented for me to do something completely self-sacrificial…” you trailed off, avoiding Daryl’s eyes. “He won’t kill me. You heard it from his own mouth. But you? He’ll gladly put a bullet in your head the first instant he sees you.”

“If he gets his hands on ya, it’ll be worse than ya bein’ dead,” Daryl growled. Daryl felt sick just thinking about you being in the same goddamn state as Negan, let alone this bullshit. “I can’t let ya do this. If it goes wrong—”

“There’s no other way. If you can come up with a plan that doesn’t end up with a whole lot more of our people dead and all the communities destroyed, please let me know. Because that’s what’s coming if we wait. They’ve got Eugene. I don’t even want to think about what they’re gonna make him do next.”

Daryl rubbed his hands over his face and gave you a long look. His expression was somewhat tortured. “If you’re goin’ out there to do that, then I’m gonna be right there. And don’t even try and argue. I’m gonna be the one to line his head up in the crosshairs and pull the goddamn trigger.”

You stared at him for a long moment, seemingly frozen, before you nodded. “Fine. If that’s what it’s going to take for you to let me do this… But I mean it. You have to stay hidden. If he or his men see you—”

“I know. But there’s no way I’m lettin’ ya go out there without me. If somethin’ goes wrong and I’m not there…” he trailed off.

You nodded. “Okay. Okay…” You hesitated only a moment. “Let’s figure it out.”

A short time later, you and Daryl were leaning over a map on your kitchen island. “Right here,” you said, pointing a spot that was almost halfway between The Hilltop and The Sanctuary. You knew the landscape was patchy woods and clearings. “It’s sort of neutral ground. Probably open enough to make him comfortable that we’re not hiding a huge force somewhere too close.”

Daryl nodded. “Alright…” He glanced up at your expression, which was steely. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

You met his blue eyes and nodded. “I am.”

He sighed heavily and shook his head. “So, that’s it? You, me, and Rosita. And you’re just gonna walk up to him unarmed,” he said.

“It doesn’t matter that I’m unarmed as long as I can get him somewhere for you or Rosita to take the shot. I need him to feel comfortable enough to actually stay for a minute. I can’t roll up with a goddamn rifle.”

“He ain’t comin’ unarmed,” Daryl said. “And I doubt he’ll come alone.”

“It’ll be fine,” you said.

Daryl’s stomach was already churning. “I hate this,” he muttered angrily, pushing up on his hands and moving away from the map.

You leaned back against the kitchen island. “I know.”

“Then why the hell are we doin’ it?!”

“Daryl, we’ve been over this… what’s the alternative?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know, alright! But there’s gotta be somethin’ else—"

“There isn’t,” you said, surprisingly softly. “So, just… just come upstairs and let me have my way with you before I start this insane thing tomorrow.”

Daryl stared at you with that classic Daryl Dixon glare. “If ya think sayin’ that is somehow gonna make me forget this is happenin’ you’re wrong.”

“I know,” you said, straightening up and crossing the space to him, reaching out and gripping his sides. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking you to come upstairs so we can pretend that it’s not for a little while…”

Daryl’s face softened a little and he studied your face for a long moment before sighing. “Fine. Ya know I can’t say no to that.”

“Good,” you breathed, arching up onto your toes and kissing him hard, looping your arms around his neck.

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Well, suck my dick and slap my ass…”

You rolled your eyes as Negan’s voice drifted back to you through the two-way radio. “Yeah, I’ll pass on both of those actually…”

His laughter came through next. “Gotta say, Y/N. You’re about the last person I expected to hear from. Old Rick the Prick? Sure. But not you. I have to say, I am intrigued.”

“This has gone on long enough. We’ve both lost enough people. I want to talk about some sort of arrangement so we can end this for good,” you said.

There was a long silence on the other end. “So, that’s why you’re callin’ me up. I bet Rick the Prick doesn’t even know you’re doin’ this, does he? Because he is hellbent on my extinction. Or haven’t you noticed?”

“You want to talk about Rick or do you want to talk about ending this?”

Another long silence before he answered. “Some people would say that the fact you’re even offering a compromise means I’m on the right track, means I’m winning…”

“Some people might say that. Others might say it’s because I’m just sick of all the death. And I know deep down you don’t want to see any more of your people dead. So, I guess the important thing is what do you say?”

You didn’t know that at that moment Negan was biting his lip, smiling, listening to the strong tone of your voice. “Y/N, you know I’ve gotta tell ya, you takin’ charge like this is really turnin’ me on. I can’t tell you how much I would just love to bend you over the nearest table and fuck your brains out…” Beside you Daryl shifted angrily and clenched his fists. A brief crackle of static came before Negan’s voice sounded from the radio again. “I would really love to see you again, honey. I know you ran away from me twice, but I just can’t help myself! You are like the drug I can’t quit and maybe some delusional part of me thinks I could tame that wild streak of yours…”

You avoided Daryl’s eyes. He looked like he was about to lose his shit and call the whole thing off, but in truth, this was going better than you expected. Some part of you was realizing that, holy fuck, you might truly be Negan’s weak spot. You felt like he was about to propose a meeting.

And you were right.

“I tell you what, you come talk to me face to face and I’ll entertain the idea of a truce,” he said. “But just you. No army, no honey-bun Daryl, no goddamn bullshit.”

You paused for a moment as if you were thinking his offer over. “You really think I’m just going to walk into some trap you have set for me? And I suppose you want me to come unarmed. Should I put myself in handcuffs for you too?” You tried to sound scornful.

“Well, only if you want to cut straight to playtime, doll,” he said with a chuckle. “As for the weapons, yes I do expect you to come unarmed. We’re just gonna talk, right?”

“So you’re gonna be unarmed too?”

Another laugh through the radio. “Hell no! I will be packing. You, along with those losers you’ve attached yourself to for reasons I still do not understand, have already tried to kill me a few times! Tried and failed, but tried nonetheless. But you know I could never, ever really hurt you… Even though you’ve been such a bad, bad wife…” Daryl flinched when Negan said ‘wife.’ “But you’ve got nothing to worry about, doll.”

Just then you felt a twist in your stomach, some surge of nerves now that this was all becoming so real. You shook it off. “And you’re coming alone?” you said. “How could I possibly trust you, Negan?”

“You name the time and place and I’ll be there. No bullshit,” he said. His deep voice was calm, confident. This was working way better than you anticipated.

You paused and looked at Daryl again, heaving in a few breaths before pressing the button down on the side of the radio to speak. “Fine. I’ll come alone, if you come alone. But listen to me, Negan, if there is so much as a blade of grass that looks out of place, I’m gone.”

Another laugh. “I’d expect nothing less, clever girl. Just name when and where.”

You gulped. “Tomorrow. One o’clock. Partway between Hilltop and the Sanctuary. There’s a field just past mile marker 31.”

“I will see you then. And I’ll try to be on my best behavior.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I mean it, Negan. I just want this over with,” you said. That wasn’t a lie. You did. It just wouldn't be on his terms.

“So do I, Y/N. I know you think I’m a heartless bastard but… I do care about people.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Just be there,” you growled into the radio.

“Oh, I will be. See you then, darlin’.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #sacrifice

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yostresswritinggirl · 4 years

Text

The One The Bard Once Loved

NEW Vibe check (appropriate song to cry to while reading)

"The bard, the sprite, the archer. The trio of young dreamers that wish to witness the blue skies past the raging winds that lock their freedom. But those are more than mere dreams, for it requires the sacrifice of those you love, to grace the courage to fight a God. And Barbatos, poor Barbatos, sacrificed more than he wanted."

Pairings -> Venti x Fem!Reader x Bard (Gale)

Word Count -> 4,337

Theme -> Angst, Backstory, Long Fic

Series -> #Bonafide specials (100 followers event)

Warnings -> Spoilers to Venti's story, character death

"Oh little sprite, from whence beyond

Does thou reminiscent of a vagabond?

Curious to which it whisks upon

Trapped now in desolate, forlorn"

Venti the wind sprite had always been curious, the single whisk of air that always goes the opposite way, hanging behind from his fellow currents to be distracted by a curious thing. So it was no surprise to anyone that he had gone lost once more in their rounds swaying but when he'd not return, long ago has his current passed the nation of Mond. Yet there was no way he can fly by his family of winds, for he finds himself trapped within the walls of a grazing storm that cages the stone walls of the city, of winds that he could not control nor agitate.

No matter how hard he tries the wind does not part, and so little Venti was stuck inside brooding skies and angry blasts. No mere sprite can go against the mighty strength of an archon.

So he resigns to his fate and wanders in this new place. Of a city wide and barren, why dare the Decarabian hide such dwelling? And even with the raging howls of the walls of wind, Venti couldn't help but wonder the silence it traps within.

A tiny ball of white in an expanse of gray. The thought scares the little sprite enough to make him scurry for the smallest bit of sound he can decipher. The loneliness creeps into his core—

And his little body bumps into that of a soft material. "Oh! Goodness, one should not run off without looking like that-" the figure turns and finds itself face to face with a floating blob, deep blue eyes wide and mouth hangs with wonder. Venti recognizes this creature in one of his endeavors as the wind, a human being, the true wanderers of Teyvat. Yet what is one doing trapped? "Such a peculiar being! What could you be?"

Yet it is not frightened by Venti's rarity, well, given he is not the most frightening wonder in this continent this was no surprise.

The sprite did not mind being found out. No, no, quite the opposite honestly, as he flies closer to the young boy and hides in his upturned hood. Nuzzling against the junction in his neck as he expresses gratitude in the company and presence of another in this desolate world.

The young boy chuckles and it reminds him of a song. "Perhaps you do not understand what I spoke?" The sprite shakes its head and the ticklish spot is tickled again. "Or do you not know how to speak?" A nod. And another giggle.

Without another word, the human slips back into the alleys of winding yet thin roads before making his way inside what looks to be a cathedral of tall composition. Glass windows of the same length tinted in kaleidoscopic patterns of color. There is a light in them you would usually bask in during the 'outside world', but in here it replicates that of an oasies in the deserts of Sumeru.

Underneath the artificial haze it beams a seeming spotlight at a figure clad in a dark ebony cloak. Venti felt the vibrations of an elated gasp as the human rushed over with a smile and frantic waving.

"My fair muse, how you've brighten my day, bestowing your presence tonight!"

The cloak tenses before immediately relaxing, the 'muse' he speaks of turns with its loose hood falling as it bundled around the shoulders, and Venti the sprite couldn't help but gasp too at the sight!

Fair is lacking, no words can describe the essence of bloom and beauty at the beholder as you stood there almost sparkling, hair catching the twinkle of light. Your plum lips caught itself smiling yet your eyes twinkled double the amusement at the sight of the human before you, "Gale." You murmured with an undertone of annoyance as you trudged over, flicking the boy's forehead so suddenly he'd voiced his hurt loudly. "Where have you been?! You've never been late to our daily rendezvous, you had me worried-!"

"Oh, such a cutie when you worry!" The young boy, Gale, cupped your cheeks in the middle of your spiel as he softly pats it with his fingers. Venti had never seen such creature change colors as fast as you, not even a chameleon, or an octopus in hiding. "I've simply found a new companion while I was out and about!"

As if a spotlight was caught unto him this time, your blown eyes wandered to the sprite floating by your company's neck. And oddly he'd found the attention appreciated.

"Who is this? An elf?"

"Venti!" There was a distant jingle of imaginary bells in his squeak of a voice.

"It/You can talk?!"

(Y/N) Lawrence.

Gale the Bard.

Venti the El- Wind Sprite.

Gale was a bard that resides in the cathedral of Mondstadt, homeless and without blood and kin, the nuns had took him in and lead their choir in turn for their hospitality.

You, on the other hand, lived with a clan of hunters that once ruled the mountains and forests. But with the emergence of the inescapable walls of wind, your family had been on the forefront of the protection of the citizens.

There were a lot of struggles in communication between you two and the lil sprite. He only knows his name and how to copy words (not so fluently) so questions had to be foregone, teaching the little one took priority. And Gale being the weaver of words took it upon himself to teach him frequently as you had your duties and family to go to.

Venti would sometimes disappear for a majority of the time and you'd figured he finally found a way to pass through the winds without shredding himself among the blades of current. And then he'd pop back in to listen to the merry tunes Gale had come up with, both of them waiting for your return.

"Ah Venti, is she not a beauty? The youngest daughter of Lawrence, as divine as that of incense. Oh tell me those dotted eyes could see it too!" The little sprite eagerly nods as he follows the bard's stride across the aisles in the holy cathedral, once again barren of other souls except for them. Whenever his human friend finds time to muse, it would be most about the maiden he fancies, the muse of most of his songs. Venti had been captured by his delicate tunes and savory lines to the point that he too had been overly enticed by your grace when your presence shines.

Your strength, your smile, your laugh, your hair. Your gait, your poise, your eyes, your glare. You had caught their stares dozens of times in silence before and it was always up to you to put them back to present time.

Venti simply basked in your warming aura and indulges himself outwardly, often you'd find him dozing off on the crown of your head. And often times you'd find a little pout on Gale at such a sight that you had no choice but to tease. In those moments, the wind sprite knew he had come out triumphant.

The cathedral doors open as quickly as they had closed, your windswept and frantic form appearing from the storm outside. The two boys in your life immediately lit up on your appearance but you'd know most of it was directed at the numerous scrolls and books you currently cradle in your shivering arms.

You offered them a grin, one of victory, and you'd all cheered at your success.

Soon, your merry trio made its way to the second floor of the cathedral in front of a faraway hallway that looks over the vast floor of the first yet still had the glow from the looming illuminated glass windows. Beholden in front of you are illustrations of a world beyond, filled with colors and shine, a world you had only imagined from stories now pictured perfectly.

Venti would hover over the illustrations at random intervals and giddily point at some of those he recognized, squeaking incoherent noises yet reflecting happiness and familiarity. While you fancied with indulging the sprite in his incomprehensible stories, Gale sat beside you with adoring yet distant eyes upon the images laid before him. Looking through them, and projecting himself in such a world. The books of the outside world you'd stolen from your clan's sacred libraries will be the start of a spark of desire to be free. And with it the start of a new era.

"The true sky, and songs that cageless soar...

Were they not wishes worth fighting for?"

Long had you gone and abandoned your stolen goods for them to admire more, at least until the day your clan finally realized the missing materials in the vast expanse of the bookshelves they own. There was more to marvel at yet you feared if you linger longer, your sister would look for you and find your little crime all too soon.

Venti quietly watches the familiar illustration of a beach littered with creatures of the sea on its glittering sand before he'd lift his tiny head up, witnessing the intense stare his bard friend had on the scroll where lies an overgrown tree and a stone structure. The sprite noted he had not seen this one.

"How marvelous it would be, to celebrate the most joyous moments under this tree," Gale mumbled in a quiet lilt of longing in his voice, "Imagine (Y/N) and I, with you by my side, as I finally pluck the courage to get down on one knee." Venti bumbled in slight jealousy, buzzing in front of the bard that could only cast a laugh. "Oh hush, dear friend, is it not appropriate to take an arrow to the knee for an archer such as she?"

Yet even with his desire to be by your side, the little sprite knew that he would be there to support his friend for the happiness you two deserved. In a land where you are free. Still, Venti hopes his cuteness would be enough to prolong you just a little bit more.

Drunk in passion and dreams, the next day the bard was scheming. And when you'd come to his cathedral of a home, he finally poured out his plans to you with a Venti quipping with cheers on the side.

The Mondstadtian had predicted your hesitance, even your disapproval on the notion, and were ready to chip in to persuade you once more— yet you gave in. Immediately. The same fire burned in your eyes at the thought of being unshackled and caged from the world begging to be explored. Your sentiments together with the bard fueled the desire between you three, and through the brainpower of a trio of young minds, you had drawn your plans.

Gale aided by Venti would try and coerce with the Ragnvindr clan's leader, and you would work on convincing your eldest sister Amos for the help needed to coerce the whole Lawrence bloodline into the battle. You knew there was an undeniable hatred within her against Decarabian and you wanted her to fuel that fire once and for all, for one great cause.

And soon enough, the strings of fate had come into play, and the one who shall record this momentous history has taken its seat by the balcony of war. Only the last piece of the puzzle is left in this grandoise play—

"Gale, Venti, are you sure this is the right direction to the hideout? We're taking a route longer than usual, surely you're not making last minute pranks..."

Your bow smacks at your back as you made your way inside the dark closet. It was two cycles before the fated ambush would come and in your nerves you had not realized how amiss things had been for the others. You were more than ready even if your fingers were to tremble everytime it holds your bow and arrow, predictions of the war that shall come floats within the expanse of your mind.

In your limited vision, your bard friend and sprite shared a look that did not pass by you. The tension had only caused you to gulp in your nervousness, were you found out? Did the participants of the revolt suddenly back down? "There has been a change of plans, but worry not for history still pans. My Muse, it is best you stay to assure you will not be caught in the storm's disarray-"

A hand flew across the bard's pristine white skin and his dark ocean hues could not help but widen. Is he... telling you to not participate in the war?! What kind of— a sob left through your gritted teeth despite your best efforts, and you're not sure who was more broken between your friends upon the sight. "How could you, even think- Gale, you carry no arms but a lyre! And Venti still has no means to go against the Archon that controls the winds! What kind of absurd idea is this?!" In the middle of your rage, your friends had already wrapped you in their sentimental hug, expressing their own misery with free-flowing tears." I'm supposed to protect you... t-the three of us were supposed to lead the path of freedom..."

"You've always protected us, (Y/N). Now would be the best time... to return the favor," and as your friend stepped back to give a parting smile, your whole world suddenly engulfed in black as the door shut with a slam and a final lock.

"Gale! Venti! No, please no! Let me out! Don't do this, PLEASE!"

"Please hear us out, our dear (Y/N)," Gale leaned his forehead against the thick door that separates you two, shedding the last bit of tears he could muster before the end of an era. The desperation in your every bang against it, breaks apart a hole in his own heart, "For your own good, and your own future."

When Gale described love to the little Venti, the latter was certain that he felt the same way for you. Yet the human ever so jokingly laughed at how he was still too young to fully understand the implications of such words. But he desired just as much to protect you, to be by your side, and to see your smile. But the human was right for he did not truly understand the reasons WHY he felt like so...

So he asked instead, dear friend Gale of Tales, why have you come to cherish this human in devotion? And quite so the other was happy to indulge!

"It starts with young Mondstadt when the walls were young and the people still knew the tales and what they sang. I was a poor little bard with a broken lyre, when living alone was nothing but dire.

Without a home, without a bed, I was ready to starve to death. But an angel clad in white suddenly lead me to bright light. My muse had brought to me a cathedral, yes the one we are in now! And since then I've lived a proper choir life, always wondering how...

just how things would be without (Y/N), my angel? Continuing to live in the dark alleys, would I have been able? Even now I have yet to repay her act of kindness. But one day, for sure... " Perhaps, this act the young boy now follows, was the payment he had been waiting for.

How long you had stayed there, you had no clue but by the sounds of war cries and clashing steel had told you enough. You'd been there for too long.

Blessed with some luck that a crowbar had found its way in this janitor closet in a cathedral no less, you had immediately set out to join the battle: beyond the holy doors flames had lit up from the torches the revolt has carried, many bodies lay by the stone grounds of the city, some moving and struggling while some... you spare them not a second thought as you rushed past the stone pillars to where the heat of the war should be. If the battle plan had gone as it should then—

A hand gripped your arm with such force it had you cry out before you even registered you were being slammed to the floor. A shadow of a knight that serves the God of Storm looms over you with a glare blazing past his helmet. "You're one of them, I recognize that face! You're not winning today-" yet another blade suddenly pierced through his chest, and your shirt had been splattered when it was pulled. The now lifeless body falls past you and another replaces him.

"Sir Ragnvindr!" The knight shared the same shock and relief you wore before it steeled, immediately pulling you up and away from the on-going exchanges of blows. "Everyone- how's the war looking?"

"Men had fallen from the green-tipped arrows, but we are making progress," the redhead gestured to the tower where the greatest enemy lies, taking note of the cracks and crumbling structure, a sign of his coming doom. A very good sign. "Amos took it upon herself to climb the tower-"

"What?! That's beyond the plan, she- she could get herself killed!" You brought your own bow from your back at the mention of your sister archer, bringing the strings back with an arrow at the ready, your intention clear. The redhead had shown a glint of worry but his gaze had been resolved once again at the hope of freedom, and he leaves you to your chase as he fends off the guards that dare go after you.

You expertly evaded blows and parried kicks with your bow and arrow, yet no sign of the heads of the resistance had caught your sight. The longer you climbed, the more you feared for the worst. By 2/3 of the tower you had scaled you managed to poke your head out to see the scale of war. Of red and orange floated below as the razor winds felt more violent than it had been ever since you had been born within its impenetrable walls, even from this distance high up you could still hear the clash, the warmongers held up in the central square where all battles now takes place.

And within that chaos you managed to single out a lump of black and a dot of floating white. Miraculously, your scream had reached their faraway ears and looked up, just in time to see your aerial shots of support.

"(Y/N)?! What is she-!" His words had been cut with an arrow wheezed past his head to bring down a foe that had sneaked behind him. Right, battle. Many of the immediate threats had been neutralized and the resistance had found the upper ground thanks to the archer's barrage. "How-how is she up there!"

Another body had fallen next to him with a cut on its back, a certain knight rushing past him to hit another. "Watch your back, bard! Now's not the time to monologue, she's going to backup Amos."

You were too far to hear the horrified gasp and the fearful expression your two faithful friends adorned. But the ground you were on began to shake, and you know you had to go on. "Venti! Gale! Focus, I'll be there with you two soon!" You screamed at the top of your lungs in hopes that it will reach them before continuing your ascent to the most treacherous area you had to be in—

You barelled towards the woman with silver hair with a pace you've never seen and a strength you'd never thought you carried, exchanging the shot you felt lodge into your left side as you sent one right through the guard's neck. You fell on your bottom and clutched the wounded area, but kept it there, if not to make sure the blood does not pour if you were to take it out.

"Sister!" The familiar voice cradled you as gently as she could with a fear-stricken face. But you assured her that it had not hit anything major, the way her worry didn't dissipate seem to hide a kind of anguish she couldn't name. "We must get you to safety, the clerics- the clerics could-"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," you grunted as you pried yourself out of her grasp to prove your point, still able to keep your stance. You see Amos struggle from fatigue yet about to bite back, "We're so close, sister, any moment we linger is another body on the list of deaths." Painfully she'd bitten on her own tongue, finally relenting as you ascended the last few steps.

Normal arrows are nothing but toothpicks against the mighty God of Storms, the Anemo Archon, who easily flicked your futile attempts to graze him. And yet Decarabian was losing power just from fighting off not only your barrages but those even from below. His walls were thinning and his heart crumbles, from the thought of his once devoted followers turning back on him.

With one last strength the Lawrences gathered every piece of energy and power they could into their shot, and Decarabian looked at them with tired eyes and a raised hand. "Finally, I shall hold his gaze." The voice next to you spoke before your charged shot, swirling with beaming light flew past the sharp gale of wind and pierced through the God's core. Your ears had picked up on a violent crack before you were hit by the razor breeze upon the dying breath of the archon, sending you and Amos off the crumbling tower to free fall to your deaths.

In the edge of your peripherals the bleak gray walls of storms dissolved into rays of natural light, giving way to a hue of blue you had never seen before. As the wind wheezed past your ears, you smiled at the face of death—

When a jingle of little bells suddenly slowed your descension, and you were softly met with the hard floor on your back. With tired eyes you'd found yourself next to the pioneers of freedom, conscious and unconscious. You had felt Venti nudge your hand to those of another's limp ones, soft palms yet calloused fingers, you intertwined your hands with that of the bard's.

"We did it, we finally... did it..." A pulling force drains the consciousness from your mind and body in laboured breaths, and despite your protests to keep staring at the beautiful sight of the true sky, your eyelids were pulled shut by an unknown exhaustion.

Past their closed state, a flash of light was the last thing you had thought. Bruised and beaten, your warm hand did not register how the ones you clung to... did not squeeze back.

...

The next time (e/c) orbs flew open their eyes the world felt that of a lucid dream, with silk of the cleanest white donned their body, and the softest breeze of a sweet flower you had not smelt passes by you. Teal orbs looked down at you with a gentleness you've felt from the artificial light from the cathedral. Speaking of- your eyes unfocused shifted its gaze to the light blue skies.

"You're... awake." Your bard friend breathed out in disbelief and another emotion your brain can't quite place. The cotton of clouds float above in painted beauty, and you had pried your sight away from it almost painfully just to spare your companion a look.

"It's..." your throat grated and ached at the attempt, coming out so weak and breathless, "It's very beautiful... out here, free... Have- have you gone to explore?" Your face twisted in numbing pain from talking, and the bard started to quiver yet stood strong with a smile.

"I had, it's - it's just like how we imagined, even better than we've taken for granted," wet spots adorned your cheeks in short successions, you couldn't help but smile. "I only wish you were there to see it first hand, the flowers, the sunsets, the land-"

"Yet I fell asleep," you laughed in mirth yet there was no sound that escaped. The grip around you tightens as you loll your head to the side; there lays a new city kissed by the huge orb of light in the blue veil of a sky, lush green grass of health you've never seen before shone with a moistness on it, and around its glory lays a beauty of a moat that mirrors the one above. Beautiful, you whispered under your long-awaited breathe.

"The people of Mond had done their best to rebuild, for the promise of freedom they had not wilt," a hand on your cheek, flawless, urged your gaze once more to lay upon the bard. "We've devised a festival to celebrate named Ludi Harpastum. Tell me... my muse, will you accompany me in this new custom?"

A new breeze had lulled you in your ears once again to sleep, and a flash of fear had passed over your companion's features before it dissipated when you opened your eyes once more. A festival, you haven't heard that in years, "I would love to. But maybe... tomorrow..."

"Tomorrow."

"Mhm, I feel tired... the sun invites me to sleep, will you wait for me tomorrow?"

"T-Tomorrow."

"Good." Your eyes were covered by darkness again as you felt a pressure against your forehead. "It's... a date..." And your tired heart finally found peace, after battling for 15 days restlessly, desperately.

Venti picked you up from where you laid on his lap, setting you down on the grass bed besides the giant roots of the Windrise tree. Nearest your left, a stone plate carved with words you never dare see lies next to you. And for the first time in fifteen days, a God cries again.

¹The green-tipped arrows were coated with poison.

²Reader's bow is designed after the Raven's Bow.

³Gale is not the bard's official name but was used to avoid too many confusion.

⁴This had a different, more painful and hatred alternate ending where you hated Venti for taking Gale's form, but I changed it so I could rest my own heart.

*in honor of your contribution to Mondstadt's freedom, the maiden who throws the Harpastum is made for your grace.

@boxofteenageideas @creation-magician @your-local-venti-simp @indigodreamtime47

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #genshin impact Venti #venti #venti x reader #Bonafide specials #publish at midnight #genshin impact x reader #angst #female reader

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robertreich · 4 years

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Monopoly Mayhem: Corporations Win, Workers Lose

Why do big corporations continue to win while workers get shafted? It all comes down to power: who has it, and who doesn’t. Big corporations have become so dominant that workers and consumers have fewer options and have to accept the wages and prices these giant corporations offer. This has become even worse now that thousands of small businesses have had to close as a result of the pandemic, while mammoth corporations are being bailed out. At the same time, worker bargaining power has declined as fewer workers are unionized and technologies have made outsourcing easy, allowing corporations to get the labor they need for cheap. These two changes in bargaining power didn’t happen by accident. As corporations have gained power, they’ve been able to gut anti-monopoly laws, allowing them to grow even more dominant. At the same time, fewer workers have joined unions because corporations have undermined the nation’s labor laws, and many state legislatures -- under intense corporate lobbying -- have enacted laws making it harder to form unions. Because of these deliberate power shifts, even before the pandemic, a steadily larger portion of corporate revenues have been siphoned off to profits, and a shrinking portion allocated to wages. Once the economy tanked, the stock market retained much of its value while millions of workers lost jobs and the unemployment rate soared to Great Depression-era levels. To understand the current concentration of corporate power we need to go back in time.

In the late nineteenth century, corporate power was a central concern. “Robber barons,” like John D. Rockefeller and Cornelius Vanderbilt, amassed unprecedented wealth for themselves by crushing labor unions, driving competitors out of business, and making their employees work long hours in dangerous conditions for low wages.

As wealth accumulated at the top, so too did power: Politicians of the era put corporate interests ahead of workers, even sending state militias to violently suppress striking workers. By 1890, public anger at the unchecked greed of the robber barons culminated in the creation of America’s first anti-monopoly law, the Sherman Antitrust Act.

In the following years, antitrust enforcement waxed or waned depending on the administration in office; but after 1980, it virtually disappeared. The new view was that large corporations produced economies of scale, which were good for consumers, and anything that was good for consumers was good for America. Power, the argument went, was no longer at issue. America’s emerging corporate oligarchy used this faulty academic analysis to justify killing off antitrust. As the federal government all but abandoned antitrust enforcement in the 1980s, American industry grew more and more concentrated. The government green-lighted Wall Street’s consolidation into five giant banks. It okayed airline mergers, bringing the total number of American carriers down from twelve in 1980 to just four today. Three giant cable companies came to dominate broadband. A handful of drug companies control the pharmaceutical industry. Today, just five giant corporations preside over key, high-tech platforms, together comprising more than a quarter of the value of the entire U.S. stock market. Facebook and Google are the first stops for many Americans seeking news. Apple dominates smartphones and laptop computers. Amazon is now the first stop for a third of all American consumers seeking to buy anything. The monopolies of yesteryear are back with a vengeance. Thanks to the abandonment of antitrust, we’re now living in a new Gilded Age, as consolidation has inflated corporate profits, suppressed worker pay, supercharged economic inequality, and stifled innovation. Meanwhile, big investors have made bundles of money off the growing concentration of American industry. Warren Buffett, one of America’s wealthiest men, has been considered the conscience of American capitalism because he wants the rich to pay higher taxes. But Buffett has made his fortune by investing in monopolies that keep out competitors. -- The sky-high profits at Wall Street banks have come from their being too big to fail and their political power to keep regulators at bay. -- The high profits the four remaining airlines enjoyed before the pandemic came from inflated prices, overcrowded planes, overbooked flights, and weak unions. -- High profits of Big Tech have come from wanton invasions of personal privacy, the weaponizing of false information, and disproportionate power that prevents innovative startups from entering the market. If Buffett really wanted to be the conscience of American capitalism, he’d be a crusader for breaking up large concentrations of economic power and creating incentives for startups to enter the marketplace and increase competition. This mega-concentration of American industry has also made the entire economy more fragile -- and susceptible to deep downturns. Even before the coronavirus, it was harder for newer firms to gain footholds. The rate at which new businesses formed had already been halved from the pace in 1980. And the coronavirus has exacerbated this trend even more, bringing new business formations to a standstill with no rescue plan in sight. And it’s brought workers to their knees. There’s no way an economy can fully recover unless working people have enough money in their pockets to spend. Consumer spending is two-thirds of this economy. Perhaps the worst consequence of monopolization is that as wealth accumulates at the top, so too does political power. These massive corporations provide significant campaign contributions; they have platoons of lobbyists and lawyers and directly employ many voters. So items they want included in legislation are inserted; those they don’t want are scrapped.

They get tax cuts, tax loopholes, subsidies, bailouts, and regulatory exemptions. When the government is handing out money to stimulate the economy, these giant corporations are first in line. When they’ve gone so deep into debt to buy back their shares of stock that they might not be able to repay their creditors, what happens? They get bailed out. It’s the same old story. The financial returns on their political investments are sky-high. Take Amazon – the richest corporation in America. It paid nothing in federal taxes in 2018. Meanwhile, it held a national auction to extort billions of dollars in tax breaks and subsidies from cities eager to house its second headquarters. It also forced Seattle, its home headquarters, to back away from a tax on big corporations, like Amazon, to pay for homeless shelters for a growing population that can’t afford the city’s sky-high rents, caused in part by Amazon!

And throughout this pandemic, Amazon has raked in record profits thanks to its monopoly of online marketplaces, even as it refuses to provide its essential workers with robust paid sick leave and has fired multiple workers for speaking out against the company's safety issues. While corporations are monopolizing, power has shifted in exactly the opposite direction for workers.

In the mid-1950s, 35 percent of all private-sector workers in the United States were unionized. Today, 6.2 percent of them are. Since the 1980s, corporations have fought to bust unions and keep workers’ wages low. They’ve campaigned against union votes, warning workers that unions will make them less “competitive” and threaten their jobs. They fired workers who try to organize, a move that’s illegal under the National Labor Relations Act but happens all the time because the penalty for doing so is minor compared to the profits that come from discouraging unionization.

Corporations have replaced striking workers with non-union workers. Under shareholder capitalism, striking workers often lose their jobs forever. You can guess the kind of chilling effect that has on workers’ incentives to take a stand against poor conditions. As a result of this power shift, workers have less choice of whom to work for. This also keeps their wages low. Corporations have imposed non-compete, anti-poaching, and mandatory arbitration agreements, further narrowing workers’ alternatives.

Corporations have used their increased power to move jobs overseas if workers don’t agree to pay cuts. In 1988, General Electric threatened to close a factory in Fort Wayne, Indiana that made electrical motors and to relocate it abroad unless workers agreed to a 12 percent pay cut. The Fort Wayne workers eventually agreed to the cut. One of the factory’s union leaders remarked, “It used to be that companies had an allegiance to the worker and the country. Today, companies have an allegiance to the corporate shareholder. Period.” Meanwhile, as unions have shrunk, so too has their political power. In 2009, even with a Democratic president and Democrats in control of Congress, unions could not muster enough votes to enact a simple reform that would have made it easier for workplaces to unionize. All the while, corporations have been getting states to enact so-called “right-to-work” laws barring unions from requiring dues from workers they represent. Since worker representation costs money, these laws effectively gut the unions by not requiring workers to pay dues. In 2018, the Supreme Court, in an opinion delivered by the court’s five Republican appointees, extended “right-to-work” to public employees. This great shift in bargaining power from workers to corporate shareholders has created an increasingly angry working class vulnerable to demagogues peddling authoritarianism, racism, and xenophobia. Trump took full advantage. All of this has pushed a larger portion of national income into profits and a lower portion into wages than at any time since World War II.

That’s true even during a severe downturn. For the last decade, most profits have been going into stock buybacks and higher executive pay rather than new investment. The declining share of total U.S. income going to the bottom 90 percent over the last four decades correlates directly with the decline in unionization. Most of the increasing value of the stock market has come directly out of the pockets of American workers. Shareholders have gained because workers stopped sharing the gains. So, what can be done to restore bargaining power to workers and narrow the widening gap between corporate profits and wages? For one, make stock buybacks illegal, as they were before the SEC legalized them under Ronald Reagan. This would prevent corporate juggernauts from siphoning profits into buybacks, and instead direct profits towards economic investment. Another solution: Enact a national ban on “right-to-work” laws, thereby restoring power to unions and the workers they represent. Require greater worker representation on corporate boards, as Germany has done through its “employee co-determination” system. Break up monopolies. Break up any bank that’s “too big to fail”, and expand the Federal Trade Commission’s ability to find monopolies and review and halt anti-competitive mergers. Designate large technology platforms as “utilities” whose prices are regulated in the public interest and require that services like Amazon Marketplace and Google Search be spun off from their respective companies. Above all, antitrust laws must stop mergers that harm workers, stifle competition, or result in unfair pricing. This is all about power. The good news is that rebalancing the power of workers and corporations can create an economy and a democracy that works for all, not just a privileged few.

#monopoly #antitrust #unions #wages #jobs and wages #video #videos

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smylealong · 3 years

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Opening Lines

Thanks for the tag, @avauntus. This looks very interesting. OPENING LINES: List the first lines of your last 8 stories (if you have less than 8, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 authors!

1. Birth of the Yiling Patriarch:

Falling.

I'm falling.

Help me!

Someone.

Anyone.

HELP.

What? What? What are these? Black hands? Cold. So cold.

No, no, don't touch me.

NO!

2. Bells of Andal:

Nam Seon-ho was having a perfectly boring day poring over the details of rice production for the month when his surly retainer burst into the office looking surlier than ever. He cut through the rows of desks, unbothered by the dirty looks thrown his way. Reaching Seon-ho, the man threw an envelope on his desk – an official order from King Gongyang.

"Sometimes I wish I could go back in time," Sung rok said, flopping down in front of him. “Just to tell my past self to fuck right off that burning hut."

"What crawled up your behind today?” Seon Ho said, breaking the wax seal.

"Ghosts." Came the short reply.

Seon-ho stilled, nonplussed. "Eh?"

"You heard me."

From anyone else, Seon-ho would have assumed they were joking, but the only jokes Sung-rok seemed to recognize were related to bowel movements. This was way out of his brand of humor. He raised a skeptical brow, "Ghosts?"

"Ghosts."

3. You Saved Me:

Anger, fear, and worry gnawed at Dong-chul’s chest, making him cast one final glance at the near-catatonic figure of his father sitting in the tiny, filthy, stinky, and overcrowded room.

Man-hee patted his back, nodded, and said, “We got this. You go.”

“Yeah, you guys go save Sang-mi,” Jung-hoon added.

Sang-mi. The name twisted inside him like a serrated knife. The guilt of not stopping her from taking on a self-destructive step, her faith in him that he would come to save her, coupled with rage, the terror, and the anxiety of what would happen if he did not make it there in time, churned inside him, making him almost nauseated. Another emotion, one that he could not, would not, name wrenched his heart – the pain from it almost physical in its manifestation. He closed his eyes and took a moment to push down everything that threatened to burst through him. No. This was the most important fight of his life and his father’s presence had only raised the stakes higher. He could not afford to get cold feet. Not here. Not now. Sang-mi and his dad needed him, and he would not fail them just because he was getting anxious. He swallowed the bile in his mouth, bitter and burning. Just a glance at Sang-hwan and Dong-chul knew that his best friend too was battling the same nerves. Without a word exchanged, the two took off running.

4. Puppets of Fate:

Wen Ning looked at the drop that fell on his hand and suppressed a click of irritation. Rain. Why did it have to rain? He bundled his cloak more tightly and lowered his head against the howling wind. His boots squelched in the mud and he tried to ignore how, with each step, the rain poured harder and his mood grew darker, mirroring the sky.

5. An essay on Pterosaurs:

The Earth during the Mesozoic Era (250 to 65 million years ago) was quite different than what we know. Dinosaurs roamed every continent, marine reptiles terrorized the waters and tiny mammals skulked in the shadows. In the early days, birds had not yet evolved, neither had bats. The skies, however, were not a vacant scape. Bizarre winged creatures ruled the air, taking life to new heights, both literally and metaphorically. These were the Pterosaurs.

6. Monster?:

Brahman is the power that flows in the Universe.

Brahman is what makes the sun rise.

Brahman makes the world go round.

Brahman lives in our blood.

We are the Rakshasas.

- Rakta, Commander-in-Chief, R.A.F.F

7. Blackened Mirrors:

Slowly, as though caressing the skin of his lover, Zachary ran a finger along the iron railing.

Just a little more, he told himself. The idea was tantalizing in its simplicity. Climb up the mesh-like railing and topple over. That was all that was needed. The two-story drop would be enough to kill him. End his misery once and for all.

The sun had long since dipped out of sight, leaving behind faint trails of orange that were fast diminishing. Far beyond the wall, a whole different world was waking up. But hidden in the sanctuary of Castle Obrechen, Zachary Bertholdt’s day was coming to a close. He stood in the balcony, looking at the rise of the lesser moon, Cavli. Somewhere to his left he could hear the snatches of a folk song, probably sung by a boatman ferrying his ride across the lake Voan.

Despite himself, Zachary laughed. “Can’t do it, can you, coward?”

What was he holding on to, he wondered? At twenty-nine years of age, he was certain that he wanted to die. But, apparently, wanting to die and actively killing oneself were two completely different things. Why wasn’t he climbing the railing? What was stopping him? He had to wonder.

8. The Order:

The order came in on the seventh day of who-gives-a-fuck-anymore. In retrospect, it shouldn’t have surprised us, but it did. I do wonder why though? It wasn’t like this was the first time it had happened. But like the celebrated author whose name I can’t remember once said, “the ability of self-deception is humanity’s biggest fortitude, while being their greatest foible at the same time.”

We had, or at least I had and maybe I am projecting, but I don’t particularly care anymore if I am… so what was I saying again? Ah yes, we had, and yes, I am speaking collectively, convinced ourselves that it won’t happen to us. That we were somehow safe from it. The joke is on us. Haha. I’m laughing, don’t you see? That manic, hysterical laugh that I can’t seem to stop. My sides hurt, tears are streaming from my eyes, my cheeks hurt, and I’m struggling to catch my breath, but the laugh that is bubbling from within me just doesn’t seem to fucking stop! Someone help me! I should be crying, shouldn’t I? Why am I laughing? What the fuck is happening? I don’t know anymore. It’s all a mess.

________

There. I gave the opening lines of four fanfics, three original works and one non-fiction essay. Pattern? Do I see a pattern? I don't know. Not self-aware enough to see it. If anyone does, I'd LOVE to hear their thoughts. Tag 10 writers? I don't know 10 writers. I am tagging. @sadviper, @convenientalias, @rain-hat, @arlothia @terribleteej

#fun tag #Opening lines #wip stuff

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arkaniist · 4 years

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I wrote 2.5k words about Tolkien, WWI, Le Morte d’Arthur, the Iliad and Odyssey, and more, all bundled happily in an essay about queer subtext in the Lord of the Rings revolving around the relationship between Sam and Frodo. I posted about this before, and someone asked me to post the essay, so here it is!

Homoerotic Subtext in the Lord of the Rings

In June of 1916, J. R. R. Tolkien shipped out from England to France to join his comrades on the Western Front. In July, he would participate in one of the bloodiest struggles of World War 1, the Battle of the Somme. Just a month later, he would be struck with Trench Fever, placing him in convalescence or behind a desk for the remainder of the war. Though his front-line experience was short, there is no denying the effect that the war and the loss of his closest friends had on Tolkien, nor the influence it had on his writing in the post-war years. Much has been written on that topic already. However, there is one aspect of Tolkien’s time in the service which is underexplored when it comes to the literary critique of his legendarium – of which the Lord of the Rings is but a piece – and that is his exposure to the widespread homoerotic attitudes which were a common undercurrent in the British armed forces during that time.

Homosexuality has always been an overlooked behavior on the front during wartime, even as it passed from common practice to taboo. One reason for this might be that people who are worried about being shot to death in a trench have other things to worry about besides who their mates might be kissing. Another might be that facing death brings a greater appreciation for love to the front of the mind, and it does not matter which gender that appreciation is directed towards. As a result, we find many examples in literature and letters of men expressing chaste but deep homoerotic love for other men. In The Great War and Modern Memory, Paul Fussel writes that in WWI-era battlefield poetry, one could not fail to notice ‘the unique physical tenderness, the readiness to admire openly the bodily beauty of young men, the unapologetic recognition that men may be in love with each other.’ (303). “War poetry has the subversive tendency to be our age’s love poetry.” he quotes Richard Fein. In that case, we must examine war literature for the same sentiments.

Most common in officers towards their men, we find ‘something more like the “idealistic,” passionate but non-physical “crushes” which most of the officers had experienced at public school. … What inspired such passions was — as always — faunlike good looks, innocence, vulnerability, and “charm.” The object was mutual affection, protection, and admiration.’ (Fussel 295) This makes sense, as ‘the tradition in Victorian homosexuality and homoeroticism [is] that soldiers are especially attractive. What makes them so is their youth, their athleticism, their relative cleanliness, their uniforms, and their heroic readiness, like Adonis or St. Sebastian, for “sacrifice.”’ (Fussel 302) In the Lord of the Rings, we find Frodo described as ‘taller than some and fairer than most, and he has a cleft in his chin: perky chap with a bright eye.’ (Tolkien 163). At his coming-of-age birthday party, he inherits the great evil that is the One Ring from his great uncle; he is an unintentional sacrificial lamb. Later, when he volunteers to take the One Ring to Mt. Doom knowing that it is likely a one-way trip if he can even make it that far, we find in our protagonist a young, beautiful, self-sacrificing hero.

Fussel writes that ‘although the usual course of protective affection was from superior to subordinate, sometimes the direction was reversed, with men developing hero-worshipping crushes on their young officers.’ (297) Enter Frodo’s counterpart and co-protagonist, Samwise Gamgee. Tolkien wrote in a 1956 letter to a fan that “My ‘Samwise’ is indeed (as you note) largely a reflexion [sic] of the English soldier—grafted on the village-boys of early days, the memory of the privates and my batmen that I knew in the 1914 War, and recognized as so far superior to myself.” (Letter 187)

A batman, in military parlance, was a soldier who, as well as fighting, oversaw an officer’s kit, cooking, and cleaning. (Garth) However, Sam is so much more than Frodo’s servant, though they start the journey as master of the house and gardener. Sam shows an incredible dedication to Frodo that cannot be explained as mere class-based loyalty. Take this passage from Return of the King when the enemy has captured Frodo. The Hobbits are separated, and Sam is up against what seems like impossible odds – faced with the task of raiding an entire tower he assumes is filled with enemies, alone, armed only with a short sword. He does not even know where Frodo is or if he is still alive:

‘… Except for that little frightened rat, I do believe there’s nobody left alive in the place!’

And with that he stopped, brought up hard, as if he had hit his head against the stone wall. The full meaning of what he had said struck him like a blow. Nobody left alive! Whose had been that horrible dying shriek? ‘Frodo, Frodo! Master!’ he cried, half sobbing. ‘If they’ve killed you, what shall I do? Well, I’m coming at last, right to the top, to see what I must.’ (Tolkien 887)

… He cared no longer for Shagrat or Snaga or any other orc that was ever spawned. He longed only for his master, for one sight of his face or one touch of his hand. (Tolkien 889)

Besides demonstrating Sam’s willingness to face certain death rather than leave Frodo, this passage is a perfect illustration of another one of Tolkien’s literary inspirations besides the Great War. Tolkien was a scholar of European mythology, drawing inspiration for his legendarium from epic myths like the Old English Beowulf and the Finnish Kalevala. Read the following lines from Le Morte d’Arthur regarding King Arthur’s death:

Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? … And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so took the forest… (Mallory, Book 21 ch. V.)

Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord King Arthur, that here lieth buried in this chapel. Then Sir Bedivere swooned; and when he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir Bedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my lord Arthur. (Mallory, Book 21 ch. VI.)

These Medieval warrior relationships themselves draw from an even older literary tradition, one with not so much covert homoerotism but overt homosexuality. Ancient homosexual pederastic relationships like that of Alexander and Hephaestion or Achilles and Patroclus form the model for many close male warrior literary relationships. Compare Achilles’ reaction to Patroclus’ death in the Iliad to that of Bedivere to Arthur’s and Sam to Frodo’s:

A dark cloud of grief fell upon Achilles as he listened. He filled both hands with dust from off the ground, and poured it over his head, disfiguring his comely face, and letting the refuse settle over his shirt so fair and new. He flung himself down all huge and hugely at full length, and tore his hair with his hands. … Antilochus bent over him the while, weeping and holding both Achilles’ hands as he lay groaning for Antilochus feared that Achilles might plunge a knife into his own throat. (Homer, Book XVIII)

Near-suicidal grief at the loss of the beloved is a common theme between the three of them. Achilles lives to avenge Patroclus, Bedivere lives to pray for Arthur’s soul, and Sam, as luck and Tolkien would have it, lives to save Frodo, who was not dead after all, though it was a close thing. Sam’s joy at finding Frodo alive is as poignant as his grief at having thought he lost him – unashamed physical affection and more tears follow the discovery of his master.

[Frodo] was naked, lying as if in a swoon on a heap of filthy rags: his arm was flung up, shielding his head, and across his side there ran an ugly whip-weal.

‘Frodo! Mr. Frodo, my dear!’ cried Sam, tears almost blinding him. ‘It’s Sam, I’ve come!’ He half lifted his master and hugged him to his breast.

…

‘Well, you have now, Sam, dear Sam,’ said Frodo, and he lay back in Sam’s gentle arms, closing his eyes, like a child at rest when night-fears are driven away by some loved voice or hand.

Sam felt he could sit like that in endless happiness; but it was not allowed. It was not enough for him to find his master, he had still to try and save him. He kissed Frodo’s forehead. (Tolkien 889)

Tolkien’s earlier description of Sam as a combination of village boy and batman fits neatly with Fussel’s declaration that ‘to the degree that front-line homoeroticism was sentimental it can be seen to constitute another element of pastoral.’ (Fussel 300) In the Lord of the Rings, the Shire – Sam and Frodo’s home – represents the ultimate ideal of Pastoralism. In the Shire, Hobbits live community-focused rural lives with minimal conflict, drinking and feasting and partying, with little to no exposure to more advanced societies of the East. In that light, the entire quest of the Lord of the Rings can be seen as a removal from the Pastoral – the world becomes darker, less hospitable, and less natural the further East the Hobbits travel until they reach their end goal: a blighted, unnatural wasteland dominated by machinery.

As Frodo falls further and further under the sway of the One Ring, he forgets the Shire. He loses his connection to his pastoral home. Nevertheless, ever at his side is his loyal Sam, who recalls even in the darkest moments the comforts of home. Sam is Frodo’s link to the pastoral ideal when his suffering is the greatest. Sam’s yearning for the pastoral often comes up in the form of recalling Frodo as he was in the Shire. This is exemplified by the following passage near the end of their quest, just after the One Ring has been destroyed:

‘Well, this is the end, Sam Gamgee,’ said a voice by his side. And there was Frodo, pale and worn, and yet himself again; and in his eyes there was peace now, neither strain of will, nor madness, nor any fear. His burden was taken away. There was the dear master of the sweet days in the Shire.

‘Master!’ cried Sam, and fell upon his knees. In all that ruin of the world for the moment he felt only joy, great joy. The burden was gone. His master had been saved; he was himself again, he was free. (Tolkien 926)

While Sam represents and thus easily returns to an idyllic pastoral existence after the war, Frodo remains haunted by his experiences. Finally, we reach the real end of Frodo and Sam’s journey, the temporary separation before the eternal unification. Frodo and Sam go to see off Frodo’s uncle, and there Frodo reveals he will be passing into the West as well – a form of eternal life in Middle Earth, but one that is forever separate from the rest of the world:

‘Where are you going, Master?’ cried Sam, though at last he understood, what was happening.

‘To the Havens, Sam,’ said Frodo.

‘And I can’t come.’

‘No, Sam. Not yet anyway, not further than the Havens. Though you too were a Ring-bearer, if only for a little while. Your time may come. Do not be too sad, Sam. You cannot be always torn in two. You will have to be one and whole, for many years. You have so much to enjoy and to be, and to do.’

‘But,’ said Sam, and tears started in his eyes, ‘I thought you were going to enjoy the Shire, too, for years and years, after all you have done.’

‘So I thought too, once. But I have been too deeply hurt, Sam. I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: some one has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them. But you are my heir: all that I had and might have had I leave to you. … You will … keep alive the memory of the age that is gone, so that people will remember the Great Danger and so love their beloved land all the more.’ (Tolkien 1006)

Here we see Frodo acknowledge that this separation splits Sam’s spirit – part of Sam goes to his home and family, but part always goes with Frodo. Frodo encourages him to live the rest of his life fully in the Shire, and when the time has come, he can reunite with Frodo in the ‘afterlife.’ Contrast this to Patroclus’ final request of Achilles in the Iliad:

“One prayer more will I make you, if you will grant it; let not my bones be laid apart from yours, Achilles, but with them; … let our bones lie in but a single urn, the two-handled golden vase given to you by your mother.” (Homer, Book XXIII)

Furthermore, the resolution in the Odyssey, as Odysseus reassures Achilles that his will was done:

Your mother brought us a golden vase to hold them—gift of Bacchus, and work of Vulcan himself; in this we mingled your bleached bones with those of Patroclus who had gone before you… (Homer, Book XXIV)

Return of the King ends with Sam riding home with a heavy heart to his family after watching Frodo’s ship depart to the West. Like the Iliad and Odyssey, we must read a bit further to determine what eventually happens with Frodo and Sam. The Lord of the Rings has a massive amount of supplementary material, including maps and family trees. In Appendix B, we find a chronology of the years before, during, and after the main novels. It reveals that at age 96, after the death of his wife, Samwise rides out to the Havens and passes over the Great Sea to unite with Frodo for the final time.

Queerness is often overlooked in serious examinations of literature, especially when the voices of cishet men dominate the discussion, as they do in Tolkien scholarship. Tolkien scholars have repeatedly dismissed the idea of homoeroticism in Tolkien’s works as silly fangirls making things gay for titillation, which erases queer voices and condemns queerness to the realm of the unrealistic and ahistorical.

I have been a fan of the Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit since I was queer child struggling with gender identity and sexual attraction. In sixth grade, I received my first copy of the Lord of the Rings, and I read it voraciously until the pages started to fall out. Although I did not fully recognize the homoerotic undertones back then, I still yearned for the deep, lasting, emotionally fulfilling, and life-changing same-sex relationships I saw in those books. Even 20 years later, as a queer adult, the idea that I might share something so intensely personal with my heroes is vitally important to me. J. R. R. Tolkien died in 1973. He was a devout Catholic who maintained a lasting friendship with a gay poet and spoke with great esteem of a novel about gay men written by a lesbian; one can hardly imagine what he might have said about the idea of queer subtext in his writing. But if I, a queer reader, recognize some essential part of myself in Sam or Frodo, if I see my bonds in their bond, is that not enough to warrant an entrance into the discussion and serious consideration? Whether you see their relationship as a purely platonic friendship or a great romance of the ages, Sam and Frodo are in love.

Works Cited

Fussel, Paul. The Great War and Modern Memory. Oxford University Press, 2013

Garth, John. “Sam Gamgee and Tolkien’s batmen.” 13 February 2013, [msg for link].

Homer. The Iliad. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 2000. [msg for link].

Homer. The Odyssey. Translated by Samuel Butler. Project Gutenberg, 1999. [msg for link].

Malory, Thomas. Le Morte d’Arthur, edited by Caxton, William, and Sir Edward Strachey. Project Gutenberg, 2014. [msg for link].

Tolkien, J. R. R. “Letter 187.” The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, edited by Tolkien, Christopher, and Humphrey Carpenter. Houghton Mifflin, 1981.

—. The Lord of the Rings. HarperCollinsPublishers, 1994.

#lord of the rings #lotr #queer theory #queer academia #sam x frodo #samfrodo #samfro #is that the tumblr shipname?#if u wanna cite this anywhere now that i'm officially publishing it (by posting it) u absolutely can #but please credit me as Alex Kakela and not arkaniis lmfao

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crookswithbooks · 4 years

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Pay Attention To Me

Notes: Finally! Sorry this came out so late, I was busy with Christmas plans and other projects and everything just got so behind, but here it is at last. Merry several days late Christmas everyone, and Happy New Year’s Eve!

Day Twelve - Lestat is feeling overlooked so he goes out on the town to find his own entertainment.

The world was covered in twilight. Trees became villains reaching out and the moon illuminated menacing shadows on the pavement. The air smelled of rain, and even then tiny droplets pattered against the ground. Slowly they melted the scattered patches of snow lingering on the rooftops of buildings and covering the cobbled streets. Inside their tiny house, Louis sat curled on the couch, a book held upright in his hands with his eyes roaming the pages absently. He toyed with a wineglass, twisting it between his fingers and occasionally lifting the glass to his lips. Mostly, though, he sat, and Lestat could not take it anymore.

“Louis.” There was no response, not even a tilt of the head as acknowledgment. “Louis? I know you can hear me and this little charade you are keeping up is ridiculous and childish.”

Louis sighed, a long and suffering sound that dragged on Lestat’s ears. “I can hear you fine. As you can see, I am otherwise occupied.” He held up the book in evidence and promptly returned to it.

Lestat watched him from his chair, an old chair he had found in one of the antique stores the modern era was so fond of. It reminded him of the old days when it was just the two of them and Claudia and they were happy. His sharp nails tapped against the wood impatiently, eyes narrowing at Louis’s continued dismissiveness.

Finally he could stand it no longer and stood up, stalking over to the brunet. He kneeled beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pressing his mouth to the nape of his neck. If Louis registered the movement he hid it well, not so much as blinking at the action. Lestat opened his mouth, softly suckling the sensitive skin contained there.

“Lestat.”

Lestat grinned against him. “Yes my love?”

“I know what you are doing and I am not in the mood. I would like to continue my reading in peace if you don’t mind.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Lestat replied innocently, gently digging in his teeth. He could feel the shudder run through Louis’s body, though he tried to repress it.

“Lestat,” he breathed and closed his eyes. He did not, Lestat noticed, try and stop him.

Lestat’s teeth dug in just a bit more until he had pierced skin and he could feel the warm sensation of blood coiling against his tongue. He savored the taste, gently sucking the liquid from his neck until finally Louis gasped and reached a hand back, gripping Lestat’s hair and pulling him back.

“That’s enough.”

“I don’t think it is.” Lestat moved to take more but Louis turned at last, dropping his book and grapping Lestat by the front of his jacket, pulling him close.

“I said,” Louis hissed, not breaking eye contact. “That’s enough.”

Lestat smiled deviously in a way that could not fail to provoke and raised an eyebrow. “And what will you do if I don’t?”

Louis considered him for a moment and then, to Lestat’s great disappointment, released his jacket and settled himself on the couch once more, picking back up his book. “I shall leave and then you’ll be alone, something I know you hate far more than boredom.”

Lestat snapped his teeth impatiently, rising to his full height. “You’re dreadfully boring, you know? I do all these nice things for you, build you this house, provide for you, fill our lives with fanciful wonders that most people only dream of, and the only thing I ask is that my lover pay even the slightest attention to me but you cannot do even that.”

Louis marked a page in his book, placing it besides him on the couch and turning a glare on his partner. “You bought this house, Lestat, from a shady man you met in an ad, and the entire thing is falling apart as it is.”

“It’s called an antique,” Lestat sniffed haughtily.

“I provide for myself, thank you very much, unless you mean the little boys you leave littered around the house like some kind of deranged cat, bleeding all over our carpet that I bought. And your fanciful wonders, as you call them, are nothing but meaningless trinkets you forget about the day after. For goodness sake Lestat, there is a boar’s head hanging on our wall!”

“Well excuse me for trying to bring something of the outside world into our home, or else you would never see it!” Lestat began to pace the room and Louis watched him with an expression of reluctant interest. “You spend all day cooped up in here, and I am tired of it! You need to live!”

“I already lived.”

“No,” Lestat corrected. “You were alive. There is a difference, in case you weren’t aware. You spend these centuries sulking like an insolent child and the only thing that excites you now is death. You dream of it, staring longingly at flames and daggers like a fool. Yet you never have the courage to go through with it, because in the end you are a coward. Scared of living, scared of dying. And I, for one, am sick of it.”

Lestat turned around, whirling out the doorway in a huff. Louis watched him for a moment, before picking back up his book and turning a page.

Lestat was enraged.

He found himself in a small town miles away from the house he had stormed out of. He was not entirely sure where he was, merely that it was somewhere where Louis was not which was enough for the time being. He strolled the cobbled streets, watching bundled humans hurry back to their houses for the night.

Lestat couldn’t believe him. He did everything he possibly could for Louis’s sake and still he found himself scorned in the end. He was willing to ignore all of Louis’s little rebellions, all the times he ran away from him, tried to kill him, replaced him with someone new—he was willing to ignore it all because that’s what you did when you loved someone. You forgave them. Unfortunately, it appeared that Louis had not received that message.

He wanted entertainment. The thought came to him seemingly on a whim, but as he examined it further he realized that the desire had been there all along. If Louis was going to continue to be obstinate and ignore him, than he would seek amusement elsewhere.

The scent of blood was heavy in the air. It always was during the wintertime, heat brought quickly to the surface as their frail human bodies fought to keep them alive. Lestat inhaled, his path following the particularly alluring smell of a dashing youth in his twenties with dark hair that curled in the most lovely fashion about his ears. He made sure to keep a decent amount of distance between him and the boy, twisting in and around patrons of the tiny city.

The boy appeared to be rushing somewhere, his steps hurried and anxious. He cast furtive glances to either side as he slipped into a small alleyway, disappearing into the darkness. Lestat narrowed his eyes, a predatory grin glinting on his features. He had always enjoyed the chase, far more than the others had.

He kept close to the wall, tracking the boy’s coattails carefully as they flapped in the hurtling breeze. He heard the murmur of voices and peered around the stairwell he had been clutching at. It was then that he realized that the boy was not alone.

A girl, maybe ten years older than him, smiled lovingly as the boy pulled out a bundle of flowers he had been concealing under his cloak. She had beautiful auburn hair that fell about her shoulders in wind-swept waves. As he watched her examine the flowers and then the boy with a critical eye, he recognized the same cold gestures that Louis often reserved for him, only more calculating than Louis’s bland apathy. She was toying with him. That much was obvious. It made sense, what with the age difference and shady rendezvous in back alleys.

“I picked these especially for you,” the boy explained in excited whispers, clutching her slender fingers in his own, wonderingly. “I thought you might like them. They’re red like your hair.”

Lestat had done much of the same thing once for Louis. A young man with the most beautiful green eyes, black hair slinking down to his chin, much the same as Louis himself, had been left in his bedroom as a gift. Louis had not taken kindly to it, to say the least.

The woman accepted the gift with disdainful eyes, but pressed them close to her heart. “Thank you. I will treasure them. Do you have the rest?”

There was a moment when the boy, so spellbound by the woman was he, did not take notice of her words. The next moment he blinked, snapping himself back into action, and reached inside his cloak again to pull out a bundle of herbs that Lestat recognized as a very rare type of medicine. “O-Of course! Here you are.”

The herbs were regarded with much more care than the flowers had been and she tucked it carefully into her bosom, far beyond the prying eyes of strangers. “Thank you. Father will be ecstatic to have these.”

“And now?” the boy asked anxiously, licking his lips. Lestat felt something inside him surge at the simple action, but he held back for now, desiring to see where this would go first. He had wanted to be entertained after all. “What you promised in return?”

“Of course.” The woman slipped her hands from the grip of the boy, placing them securely on his hips and tugging him closer. She leaned in till they were only inches away, his face flushed with expectation, their combined breath mingling. Silky lips met his and Lestat allowed himself to watch the spectacle for a couple seconds more before springing into action.

Lestat was fast in the way that shadows were fast, there one moment and gone the next. He held the woman tight in his grip, ripped cruelly away from their kiss. He held one arm around her waist, securing her to him, and the other hand tilted her head back firmly, revealing the pale expanse of her neck.

“Olivia!” the boy exclaimed, anger and panic mixing on his features. He turned on Lestat, taking a step forward. “What are you doing, sir?”

“Saving you from what is sure to be a nasty relationship,�� Lestat answered, lowering his lips to her trembling skin, his own curls falling over her revealed shoulders. “She is quite the beauty, though, I will agree.”

“Let me go!” the woman cried impetuously, struggling against his hold. “You can’t do this!”

She stilled instantly as his lips were replaced by fangs, pressing sharply into the skin. “Oh but I believe I can.”

Louis was not on the couch when he returned home. Lestat carefully placed both bodies on the sofa, taking a moment to trace a loving stroke down the unconscious boy’s cheek. “Louis? I’ve brought us dinner.”

He frowned at the lack of reply. He swept from the parlor room, searching the house for any sign of his undead lover. When he reached the bedroom finally and there was still no sign of him, he started to think that maybe he had gone out, angry as well after their fight. What he was instead met with was the sudden presence of a body pressed up against his own, their stance quite mirroring that of Lestat’s earlier in the alley. Lestat stiffened, a thrill of pleasure rushing down his spine.

“Hello Louis,” he said pleasantly, casting a glance back at him. “Finally come around, have you?”

“I have finished my book.”

Lestat closed his eyes as Louis peppered his shoulders and neck with gentle kisses. It was then that he remembered that he was mad at the latter and slipped out of his grip, turning around to glare at him with crossed arms. “And just why should I forgive you? You treated me horribly earlier, and now you expect me to come crawling back into your arms?”

“It’s Christmas,” Louis pointed out. His cheeks were flushed, evident of a recent kill, and his eyes sparkled with a lustful desire that always served to weaken Lestat.

“We’re heathens, Louis,” Lestat responded dryly.

Louis merely shrugged. “Okay. Well if you don’t want my company, I suppose I will go find something else to do. There is another book by this esteemed dead writer that I’ve been meaning to get to—”

Louis found himself pinned against the bed in the next instant, the bedframe rattling in protest. “You will be doing no such thing,” Lestat snarled, leaning down to press hungry, envious kisses against his lips. “You will stay here with me and if you’re lucky I might let you go in the morning.”

Louis smiled, the clear winner. There were would be other battles, but the round of that night belonged to him. “That’s what I thought. What about dinner.”

“Fuck dinner.”

“Gladly.”

“Git.”

Later Lestat would remember that he was mad at the other, but for right now he chose to exemplify it in the forming of violent sex, a love language they both understood well.

Neither one of them could be really mad at the situation, in the end.

#interview with a vampire #the vampire chronicles #louis x lestat #fanfiction #iwav #lestat de lioncourt #louis de pointe du lac #twelve days of ficmas #christmas

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