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faux-ecrivain · 5 months

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’Yan’ Roommate

(Eight Official Post)

(This one could be viewed as platonic obsession, also in this story you (the darling) is at least 26-32. Of course, feel free to change the age.)

(Yandere’s name is Lucas)

Yan Roommate who only roomed with you because houses are expensive.

Yan roommate who absolutely despises you, not because you’re annoying, but because you’re nosey. (Always asking about his day, his dates and so on.)

Yan roommate who goes out of his way to sneak in when he’s been out late, just to avoid your questions. (It doesn’t work, obviously, you always stay up late waiting for him)

Yan roommate who absolutely cannot bring anyone over, because you immediately start acting as though he’s going to marry them.

You beckon him to the kitchen, a mischievous smile on your face. “oh, Lucas, is that your date? She’s so cute!” You compliment his date, which makes Lucas somewhat uncomfortable. “Is she hungry? I made dinner!” You hand him a plate, still warm as you had it plastic wrapped, and he resist the urge to groan.

He thanks you for the plate, but informs you that his date has already eaten. He winces when your face slips into an expression of disappointment. “Sorry, y/n, but thank you for the food.” He apologizes to you, but appreciates what you did. (Later when the young woman went home you kept sending him knowing looks and teasing him about how cute they looked together)

(It’s clear you’ve already planned their wedding, cooked a full dinner for the two of them and you give him one of those sly looks when you leave them alone.)

Yan roommate who, despite your nosey behavior, actually likes having you around (because you make him feel cared for).

Yan roommate who begins to view you as a parental figure, a guidance of sorts. (You’re so much better than his parents and you actually care about him!)

Yan roommate who gets drunk one night and then starts talking to you, being more vulnerable than usual.

“Y/n, i love you sooo much, you’re sooo nice to me!” He slurs, clearly meaning platonic love, his words muffled by your stomach. (As he latched his arms around you when he entered the house)

“Yoooouu would make such an amaaaazing parent!” He giggles, snuggling close to you and refusing to let you go. You chuckle and pat his head, his behavior is so amusing. “Well, I am a parent, Lucas.”

Yan roommate who is absolutely flabbergasted to learn all this, you don’t look like a parent. Then you tell him that you adopted some kids when you were younger.

“Whaaat?! You’re a parent?!” He exclaims, clearly surprised by such a thought. “But you don’t look like one!” It all makes sense now, your caring behavior and your tendency to worry is clearly because you view him as a child, your child, he doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Yan roommate who gets mixed feelings when he hears this, one the up side at least he can have the parent he always wanted, but he’s also an adult and feels a bit insulted that you treat him like a child. But then he thinks some more and decides he wouldn’t mind being your kid. (Take that how you will)

Yan roommate who cringes when be remembers how yesterday went and he swears he’ll never drink again.

However his opinion on being your child still hasn’t change, but he has feeling that it might make things awkward if he said that.

Yan roommate who’s becomes reluctant to invite other people over to your shared apartment, because then he’ll have to share you with them and he doesn’t want to do that. He eventually stops bringing his dates over and stops mentioning you to his friends. (He’s touched when you express your worries that he might be mad at you, now he knows you care about him.)

Yan roommate who explains that he doesn’t want anyone to steal your attention, he’s somewhat offended when you laugh at him, but he’s calmed down when you reassure him that that’ll never happen. (So he, reluctantly, begins to invite his friends and dates over. (However, anytime they’re over he’s increasingly clingy and defensive over you, which prevents any visitors to get to know you. Whilst, also preventing them from coming over again)

Yan roommate who pouts when you tell him not to scare off his friends or dates, he pouts even more when you encourage him to get a girlfriend (or a boyfriend, whichever). Then you tell him to get out of the house more and that he doesn’t need to hover around you, which just upsets him and then he argues that he doesn’t need anyone else when he has you.

Which then causes you to chastise him, which upsets him (everything you do upsets him) and then he storms off to his room like a moody teenager (mainly because he doesn’t want to argue with you and partly because he feels a strange satisfaction knowing that you care so much about him)

Yan roommate who can’t help but smile when you apologize, saying that you shouldn’t have pushed him and that he should socialize on his own terms.

Yan roommate who’s absolutely ecstatic when you gift him a present to make up for your mistakes. He immediately forgives you, but only under the condition that you don’t make him socialize (unless he wants to).

Yan roommate who panics whenever you leave the apartment, what if someone takes you from him? (He doesn’t want to lose another parent!)

Yan roommate who throws a fit when you get back, shouting all sorts of nonsense about how you’re trying to abandon him and how you don’t love him anymore. (Meanwhile, you’re completely confused, because all you did was go buy groceries)

Yan roommate who makes you promise to stay with him and makes you swear not to leave him behind.

(Apologies that this isn’t the best and might be somewhat incoherent, but at least I posted today! I’m open to criticism and I hope you enjoy this.)

#yandere oc #yandere x reader #yan roommate x reader #enjoy this short fanfic!#Not the worst #but not the best #Eighth Official Post #Lucas my oc

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pumpkinpaix · 10 months

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Regarding #EndOTWRacism’s summaries of 2023 OTW Board election candidate positions

Before I begin, let me say now that while I am a volunteer with the OTW, my views are personal and should not be taken as any kind of official statement from the org, its leadership, or other volunteers, especially not the candidates in question. My focus here is on the Asian candidates for obvious reasons, but this post is not meant as endorsement or disavowal of any of the candidates, whose bios and platforms can all be read here.

Do not take this as an excuse harass the mods running EOTWR. I cannot make myself clearer.

I am making this post to express my extreme disappointment with End OTW Racism’s post purporting to summarize the platforms of the candidates for the upcoming Board elections. It is no longer rebloggable, but can be read here.

The way that the candidates with Asian names were spoken of is deeply insulting when compared with how candidates with English-language names were discussed. Asian candidates had their platforms misrepresented, their expertise downplayed, and their lived experiences reduced down to “bringing an international presence” to the board, which was then further caveated with, “diversity alone is not going to solve the issue of racist harassment currently allowed in the OTW’s policies and enforcement practice”. While it is true that diversity alone is not a solution, it’s pretty offensive to essentially have “remember! Just because they aren’t white doesn’t mean you should vote for them!” tacked on to one of the Asian candidates’ platforms.

End OTW Racism seems more concerned with whether or not candidates used the buzzwords they wanted to hear rather than with how racism is discussed holistically within the statements. While I can appreciate that EOTWR has a specific agenda, to say things like, “[s]he does not mention racism, racist harassment, or hiring a DEI consultant in her platform, so outside the outreach and support she mentions, there is not enough for us to conclude that these would be priorities for her” regarding Zixin Z.’s position, directly following the statement, “[s]he also mentions the need for outreach towards non-English-speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups” is fucking laughable, especially after the initial mistake of stating that Zixin Z. only wanted to do more outreach to Chinese-speaking fans. Again, I understand that people make mistakes and that this mistake has since been corrected, but I hope it prompts some reflection on the sort of biases that would lead to such a mistake in the first place. It may have been completely innocuous, but in charged discussions about racism, please understand that it gives an impression that is difficult to shake. I do thank you for not trying to hide that this happened.

Why is Anh P.’s lack of discussion on TOS/PAC a point against her, while Zixin Z.’s years of experience on PAC, her role as a mod on Weibo, and her background in nonprofits don’t even warrant a mention? For that matter, why did none of the Asian candidates’ skills or experience warrant mention? Qiao C. and Zixin Z. have both been volunteers with the organization for several years now, and Anh P. has years of moderation and volunteer experience elsewhere prior to her work with the OTW.

It is so fucking frustrating that despite each one of these candidates specifically talking about the need for diverse voices, they had their platforms essentially passed over because they didn’t use the right words, and it is particularly fucking aggravating to see that EOTWR will use Chinese issues as props when trying to press OTW leadership on the racism that occurs within the org, but then completely fail to connect the dots on why these candidates are running because the wrong language was used. Zixin Z. is one of the Weibo mods, for fuck’s sake.

The entire post feels like an exercise in virtue signalling, from every time it was brought up that a candidate did not provide pronouns in their platform statements, despite every one of them having pronouns provided in their bios (why mention this detail at all? You could have simply used the pronouns), to what felt like willful obliviousness to the anti-racism stances in the Asian candidates’ platforms. It feels like the concern starts and ends with racism in Anglophone terms, on Anglophone terms.

I can respect the driving ideas behind EOTWR, even if I disagree with the way that EOTWR pursues their goals. I do believe that we want the same things in the end, and therefore chose not to interact with the many posts I have seen about the protest. However, I saw the summary post and could not let it pass without speaking.

For a protest group supposedly dedicated to ending racism in the OTW, this felt incredibly hypocritical, conscious bias or not. In my most charitable frame of mind, I can see this as misjudging and overcorrecting to ensure that there was no favoritism shown to the obvious non-white candidates lest EOTWR be accused of tokenizing– again, it is true, that diversity in and of itself is not a solution to racism.

In my least charitable and most bitter frame of mind, I feel inclined to wonder if EOTWR, much like the OTW itself, is uncomfortable with the lack of influence they could exude over an international candidate. It would be much, much easier to push their agenda forward with more culturally familiar candidates, particularly white ones. Guilt and public scrutiny are powerful weapons and easy to wield against those with perceived privilege in our current atmosphere, often to the detriment of the actual discussion at hand in my experience. I know that’s cynical. It’s hard not to be. (For clarity's sake: I do not know the other candidates' races. This is a hypothetical.)

This isn’t a demand for an apology. I think we fetishize the capital-A Apology to the point where I find them sort of meaningless unless they are given freely. I don’t need EOTWR to agree with me, and I don’t really want to keep talking about it. Rather, I would prefer that EOTWR take action to do better as they continue in their campaign. What that action is is their decision. If they truly mean to stand against racism in the OTW, then I’d like them to demonstrate it.

DO NOT HARASS EOTWR MODS. I AM FUCKING SERIOUS ABOUT THIS.

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rosyjn · 9 months

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I see you are taking requests, how about rough sex with Jake, because he's jealous? If not that's fine

-🦊

TYSM FOR THE REQUEST. PLS SEND MORE.... aight here we go

DILF jake sully jealous rough seggs SMUTTT (BTW WIREMU IS A MADE UP ASS GUY I JUST MADE HIM UP CUS IM SICK OF PPL USING TSUTEY FOR THE JEALOUSY TROPE LET HIM RESSTTTT)

18+

Your eyes widen and your jaw drops in laughter, playfully punching Wiremu's shoulder. He laughs with you, leaning back joyfully. His ikran roars behind him.

"No way!" you exclaim in shock at the story he tells. His braids swing in his face as he turns around to nod at his banshee.

"He confirms it, look" he jokes and gestures at the ikran, who is nodding and roaring, looking over the Hallelujah Mountains. As Wiremu continues his story, you can't help but to think of Jake.

Jake's coldness, the way he scowls at you when you're disobedient. You bite your lip and gaze up at Wiremu, who is rambling on and on. You ponder about Jake. How angry he'll get if he sees the way you're looking at another man, his mad face, how his muscles flex when he yells, you just hope he'll catch you with here with this other man.

Your eyes relax and you look down at the ground, trying to suppress your naughty thoughts. Your throat com chimes and Wiremu's brows furrow. You hold up a dainty finger to your mouth and giggle while trying to shush him. He smiles and stops talking, his ears perking up.

"Aye, Y/N..." Jake's voice comes in, raspy and alert. Your face lights up and Wiremu's pupils contract in fear.

"Yes?" you hold onto the com, staring out into the floating mountains.

"Where are you?" his tone is interrogatory and strict. You hear wind whistling in the back, indicating that he's probably flying on his ikran right now, looking for you. Wiremu looks out into the sky.

"Ayram alusìng," you tell Jake, noticing your friend's panicked look. You take your hand off of your throat com for a second and tilt your head, mouthing a "What's wrong?" to Wiremu. He scratches his head nervously.

"I'm here, shout for me, okay?" Jake's sternness doesn't fade. You look out onto the horizon again, a confused expression spread on your features. The sky is clear, without any mist to obscure your view.

"I must go," your friend shakes his head and hastens towards his ikran. You grab his arm and stop him.

"No-" you begin. You want Jake to see him here with you. You want him to wonder why you were with a man that wasn't him. You want him to get jealous. "Just stay, help me call for Jake, greet him when he comes, and then you can leave," you urge Wiremu.

"Yes, alright," your friend cannot say no to you. He is hesitant to agree to your plan, but he listens. The two of you stay there, standing at the edge of the mountain. Your ikrans screech as you call and click your tongue for Jake, Wiremu joining you.

After about 30 seconds of clicking and shrieking, a dark blue, yellow spotted banshee named Bob flies into view. Jake holds onto Bob tightly and you can feel his intense eyes before you can even make out what he's wearing.

"Come," you grab Wiremu's hand and step backwards, making room for Jake to land on the mountain. You make sure to not let go of the hand until Jake notices. Your hair blows in the wind as Bob's wings flap into relaxation. Out of fear, you let go of your friend's hand. Instincts kick in. Jake doesn't greet Wiremu. He just stares at the two of you.

"I am sorry sir, I was taking her for a friendly-" Wiremu steps forward and lowers his head, quickly trying to clear up the situation.

"She's gonna come with me, thanks for watching her," Jake sighs with disappointment and holds his hand out to you. You scramble over to him and take his hand, and when he feels the warmth on it, he shakes it away, making you frown. Wiremu just nods, he hops onto his ikran and flies away, quickly. He doesn't look back. You watch him ride off into the sunset and turn to Jake, who's also watching.

You put your hands on his shoulder and chest and try to turn him towards you. His stance is strong, so it only results in you positioning yourself in front of him. He doesn't look in your eyes. He doesn't look at you at all. The fantasy that was in your mind just a minute ago has completely disappeared. Now, you are full of worry. Worrying that Jake no longer trusts you, worrying that you are acting out of sorts, worrying about your relationship.

"Y'know, that boy likes you," Jake finally looks down at you to talk. His eyes are sincere and strict.

"I'm sorry..." you push out an embarrassed whisper, staring at the ground in fear of looking in his eyes.

"You shouldn't be with him again," he enforces, his voice getting tougher and meaner.

"I won't," you timidly mumble. Your eyes stay focused on the ground beneath you, while your hands remain gripping Jake.

"But you were," his brows furrow and he tilts his head, an agitation joining his tone. You finally gain the courage to look up at him, pupils dilating in fear. "And you're gonna have to face the consequences," his eyes meet yours.

"M'kay..." you back away from him, waiting for instructions.

"On your knees, slut," he grabs your hair and pushes you down. You squeal in surprise and pain. "I don't need to tell you what to do" his hand never leaves your head as you untie his loincloth, his throbbing cock springing out at you.

You inhale before you take it. You start by lapping the tip, admiring the taste and the shape. You close your eyes and kiss it, teasing him. When he pushes at your head, you know it's time to move faster. You put your lips around the girth and push into it, whining when it hits the back of your throat. But Jake doesn't let you move. He holds your head there, his tip pressing into the back. Your eyes well up with tears and you whimper.

"Mmm," you purr as he pulls your head away, letting you breathe. Your mouth is filled with pre cum and saliva. You stick your tongue out to show him your mess.

"Good, good girl. Lay back now," he smirks. You sigh and lean back onto the ground, pressing your legs together as your pussy clenches around nothing. Jake climbs over you, his erection rubbing up on your body.

"Spread 'em," he orders. You nervously open your legs and he roughly pushes them, making you squeal as he positions himself in front of your entrance. He doesn't talk you through anything. He doesn't even make eye contact when he puts it in. He grabs his cock in his hand and strokes it a few times, before pushing his hips into yours. He thrusts his dick in gradually, inch by inch, making your back arch.

“Please,” you whine and start to pant. His cock stretches you out so well. It hurts at first, but then it feels so good. He grunts at the feeling and you grab his love handles and squeeze.

“Is this what you wanted? Hmm?” he starts to thrust before you can adjust completely and you yelp. You wrap your legs around him and squirm, unable to respond to his question. When he sees your struggle, he fucks you harder. Your eyes clench shut and your cunt pulsates as you moan with each thrust.

“Ma’Jake!” you squeak and your heat starts tightening around him.

“Why were you with that boy? You know he could never fuck you the way I can,” he groans every time his hips rut into yours, leaving slapping noises.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” you dig your nails into his love handles, making him hiss and fuck you harder. You open your eyes and your pupils roll back in pleasure. You practically melt under him, your walls clenching his throbbing cock. His breath hitches and he slows down his thrusts. Now, instead of rhythmic, shallow movements, he fucks you suddenly and deeply. You cry out as his tip brushes against your cervix.

“That’ll teach you to stay away from other men,” he exhales and his tail swings your cunt squeezes his dick. You’re seeing stars and shaking under him. Your folds are swollen and puffy with arousal and your stomach takes overwhelming pleasure.

“Jake, I can’t,” you try to pull away as your eyes well up with tears. You weakly push on his hips to get him to pull out. “Can’t take it all, be gentle,” you beg.

“Nah, not until you learn your lesson,” he pants, grabbing you and holding you in place. You tremble and whimper with every movement he makes. He smacks your breast, and you jump, a tear rolling down your face.

“Gonna, gonna cum-“ your voice is small and desperate. You shake and cry under him, unable to control your pleasure. When he hears your words he grabs your hips and pulls them all the way towards him. His tip presses into your cervix and your clit rubs up on his pubic area. You could pass out. The pleasure that takes over you is so overwhelming.

His cum squirts into your womb and you sob out your orgasm, squirting onto Jake’s torso and pulsating around his dick. You try your best to catch your breath, but it feels like you’re suffocating. He groans and throws his head back, riding out his climax. You squeeze him hard with your legs as he pants and watches you, limply trembling on the ground.

“You okay?” he pulls out and sets himself down on the ground next to you, pulling you into his arms. You cant respond. You’re too busy recovering from the sex. He lets you come down from your high, paying close attention to your breath and heartbeat.

“I’m… good,” you close your eyes and try to relax, Jake rubs your back. You let out a “hmph” noise and melt into his embrace.

“Wont be hanging out with Wiremu again, huh?” he teases. You kick your feet and laugh, tucking your head into his chest.

“No, I won’t,” you assure him. He kisses your head and you playfully bite on his chest, trying to leave a mark for the clan to see.

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st-juliet · 1 year

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Prompt because your work is aMAZing: when it’s before Sherlock and y/n’s wedding day, and he’s being an insufferable gentleman but she bats her eyes going “do you not want me” and he absolutely loses it 😏😏

Your Only Warning

Character: Henry Cavill as Sherlock in Enola Holmes

Summary: Alone in the library with his betrothed, the Reader, Sherlock fights to remain a gentleman…with limited success.

Content: 18+ for incredibly filthy language, explicit description of future sexual intimacy, dominant, angsty “I AM A GENTLEMAN” Sherlock, with a side of mild “look what you’ve made me do” rhetoric from our dear detective, but for the benefit of the very eagerly consenting Reader who absolutely intended to make him do precisely what he’s done.

Notes: Thank you so much for the prompt; I loved it, and hope you like the story, Anon!

It is a rare occasion that your future husband allows you to be alone with him.

Ever the gentleman, ever possessed by the fine arts of propriety, justice, compassion, and self-discipline…all the qualities for which you find yourself more deeply in love by the day…Sherlock has become increasingly distracted, sometimes even dismissive, of your endeavors to cultivate closeness, as the day of your wedding draws near. You do not know what precisely has caused his detachment; never once has he expressed any regret for his proposal, nor suggested he does not wish to proceed with the marriage, but something has changed.

You cannot recall the last time he was tender—if ever he truly was. No soft words, nothing of your beauty, certainly, rise to your memory, even as you entertain the recollections of shared laughter, discussions of books or music, your eager interest in his cases and his equal enthusiasm to share his work with you. Meanwhile, you long to pour out your heart on the subject of his handsome face, his gorgeous eyes, how much you long for his touch, his kiss, his…

Well.

Sherlock’s true feelings for you are a mystery that only he could solve, and finding the time alone to ask him to unravel his secrets has been nigh impossible. But tonight, at another interminable dinner party for your family and his, a challenge from Enola to discover the secret passages of the Holmes estate has led you to the library, opening a hidden door behind a bookshelf to your delight…and the surprise of Sherlock, whom you discover pensively staring out the wide window behind his desk. He looks back over his shoulder, slightly startled, but smiles when he recognizes your familiar form emerging from the shadows.

“Very well done, Miss —,” he praises you, and your heart flutters happily at the accolade. “My sister will be most pleased to have such a companion as yourself with whom to roam these halls. When we can coax her back home, that is.”

“I hope you will find me a fine companion, too,” you offer, stepping out from the passageway and into the library proper. You look about you: no one else is there. Good.

“Naturally,” he replies, leaving the sanctuary of his desk, but still keeping a polite distance. “It will be entirely pleasant to share a home with you, here or in London. I have too long breakfasted alone, beginning the day in sullen silence, only to let supper grow cold, too, for want of more companionable nourishment.”

“Yes, I quite look forward to that, too,” you reply politely, a few tears of disappointment pooling in the corners of your eyes. His once ardent interest truly does seem to have waned into a wish for company over meals. Still, your hope preservers; perhaps this is only a gentlemanly demurring from more intimate matters? You have had some success in delving into his captivating mind. What line of inquiry might unlock his heart?

“And you must never hesitate to make use of this library.”

“Thank you. But…Mr. Holmes…”

“Yes?”

“I mean…certainly we shall share other…other rooms, too?”

“Of course. You must be honest with me in the correction of my bachelor habits.”

“Yes, and you must similarly address the conventions of my customary solitude.”

These mirrored platitudes are maddening. You steel your courage and make a bolder proposition.

“But is it not true that, as is only proper, to my understanding, that when we marry, we will be…as one?”

At this, he meets your eyes for a brief, flickering moment, then turns away from you entirely, and begins to meticulously examine the books on the shelves, uttering a monosyllabic: “Ah.”

You wait.

And wait.

At long last, he clears his throat slightly and says, “I hope that if you should have any concerns of that nature, you might seek out the counsel of a recently married woman of your own age—Mrs. Watson, for example, is a lady of faultless virtue and excellent education, and might allay your fears—“

“I have no fears!” you exclaim. “I have…great anticipation. Longing, for a closeness I thought you equally desired. Sherlock, please I long to know and be known as a wife, to share with you every facet of my life, including—my…our—“

“Please, Miss —“

“But of late you scarcely look at me—“

“Dear girl,” he interrupts again. “I beg you to cease this line of inquiry!”

Your frustration bubbles over. Determinedly, you cross the room to where he stands, and slip around his hulking frame, insinuating yourself betwixt him and the bookcase, demanding his attention whether he will or no.

“What is it, Sherlock?” you ask, gazing up at him through your eyelashes, feeling your pulse quicken at his nearness. “Do you not want me?”

“Do I,” he growls through gritted teeth. “Not want you?”

In an instant, he has you restrained against the bookshelves, one hand pinned above your head and the other left to grasp frantically at his lapel, feeling the hard muscle and pounding heart beneath his fine coat, like an ember burning beneath your fingertips.

“Every moment I am plagued with wanting you! Do you not understand why I have withdrawn from you, why I must keep my distance from the woman I love?”

Sherlock lays his palm against your cheek, then slides his fingers down your neck, across your collarbones, coming to rest against the heaving swell of your breast over your gown.

“This is why. To prevent this.”

Hands over hearts, you are more closely entwined than you have ever been, and you can see with perfect clarity that his eyes burn with deep, profound emotion as well as increasingly unbridled yearning. Pinioned there by his full weight and bulk, you are completely helpless to his whims, and nothing has ever felt so freeing in your entire life. Finally, finally, finally, you exalt in your mind, and you sigh his name, unable to suppress a slight moan, which only seems to afflict him further.

“Oh, Sherlock…”

“I am a gentleman of unimpeachable conduct, but you would turn me into a brute. The more time I spend in your presence, the closer the day draws near when you will be mine, the more I find my resolve tested,” he despairs, drawing in a deep breath, and shuddering as the scent of your hair, your skin, permeates his senses. “Look at us, look what you have done! All this time I have resisted, but you undo it in a mere minute…”

His lips are practically touching yours, his grip on your wrist grown tighter, the press of his unmistakable hardness against you firm and unyielding.

“This,” he explains, his voice gone ragged and low. “Is your only warning, my dear sweet bride. If you speak another word of wanting before I may lawfully, licitly show you every way a man may possess his wife, if you touch me—or, or, you perfect minx, my gorgeous tormentor, if you with all your whiles force my hand…if you insist I kiss your glove in public, or ask for my arm to cross the street…I will make you pay for it the minute we are wed. I will turn you over my knee and spank your backside bruised. I will have you in every room of the house; damn who might see us. I will hunt you down across the estate and take you in the fields or the forest like an animal, for so you make me, darling. I will bind your hands to my bed and make you come for me over and over again until you have not a single thought left in this brilliant little mind, and then I will fuck your pretty weeping cunt until I’m sated and you are dripping with my seed. And that for a start.”

Sherlock, eyes glittering with his barely leashed lust, presses a light, chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Are we understood, Miss —?”

“Yes, yes,” you gasp, and, with the final indulgence of skimming the pad of his thumb across your trembling bottom lip, he very gently, courteously releases you, and then promptly flees to the opposite side of the room to pour himself a substantial drink. He downs it in one gulp, then takes several very deep breaths, and though he keeps his back to you, you can tell, with a secret thrill down your spine, that he is adjusting his clothes in a futile attempt to disguise his arousal.

“You were best return to the drawing room at once,” he instructs, almost bashful at his body’s insistence against his mind’s prudence. It is incredibly endearing. “I must compose myself.”

“Of course. Forgive me, sir, that I have discomposed you so.”

“No, no, it is I who must apologize. Can you forgive me, dearest girl, that I have not made clear to you that you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen? I was never a man of sentiment until now, and feared that to linger too long on the object of my desire, might make me lose all control. But I will tell you every day, ten times a day—from now until the end of my life, that your loveliness of body and soul is to me as vital as the air I breathe.”

“Are you becoming a poet, Sherlock?” you tease, melting all the more at his rush of tenderness, so looked for and longed for.

“Only for you,” he sighs, and you almost faint away as his hand drops to palm the outline of his cock through his trousers. Realizing the nature of his reflexive gesture, he gives a frustrated groan and points at you accusingly. “Only a romantic fool, and only a devious, seducing scoundrel, because of you.”

You laugh together, and, sneaking one last fervent look over your shoulder as he sinks into his chair and begins to unfasten his trousers, you close the door behind you depart, practically skipping through the halls of the home that will soon be yours, too, to rejoin both sides of the family in the parlor.

About ten minutes later, Sherlock rejoins the party, too, and no one seems to suspect anything untoward, clearly a relief to you both as your eyes meet across the table with a shared, secret glow. Once all parting pleasantries are exchanged, Sherlock follows you and your family out to the carriage, keeping a painfully respectful distance all the while. He offers only a formal bow and a stern, “Good evening” by means of farewell, but you have other designs.

“Good evening to you, too, Mr. Holmes,” you reply with a cheerful smile, and then, in front of the whole company, you elegantly present your hand to your fiancé to be kissed…

I am so, so honored by all your kind replies and reblogs! Thanks to those who commented on my other prompt fic, Pulse Point:

@fluffycutecevans @madeanaccounttoreadfanfics @nana1000night @writing-for-marvel @raccoon-eyed-rebel @sarcastic-coffeedrinker-reads @holmesbunny @peachyvulpixie @sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @inlovewithhisblueeyes @kingjuli3n 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰 🥰

#Sherlock Holmes x Reader #henry cavill sherlock #henry!sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes x ofc #enola holmes fanfic

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d6volution · 6 months

Text

Corporeal

Caine/Fem!Reader

caine wants to learn more about humans, so why not become one himself? surely, these new waves of emotions and new desires won't become an issue.

tags: human!caine unresolved feelings, sexual tension, lingerie, making out, pining until the end, explicit sexual content, caine is pussy drunk.

minors dni.

Chapter Three.

previous chapter.

Well, he kept his word. You two did meet the next day, and the day after that. You told him whatever bits and pieces of your time as a human that you could remember. He seemed to listen.. but also seemed a little out of touch... like his mind was elsewhere. Whenever you brought it up, he simply put on his usual act.

"Oh, not to worry dear! I am beginning to understand a bit more about how.. caring humans can be, so if you're worried don't be! I am perfectly fine! In fact, better than ever. I have certainly learned a lot from you." He said, almost sounding impressed.

"I'm glad I could help, Caine." You couldn't help but smile at the praise he was giving you.

Your smile caused him to look away, those funny feelings returning.

"My, my look at the time!" He was glancing at his wrist, which was adorned by the wacky watch.

"Oh, already..?" You didn't realize just how fast time passed when you two were together, "Same time tomorrow then?" You said, hopeful.

"It would seem so," He studied your expression. "Hmm, I can't help but notice that you seem a little ..disappointed." He hope he correctly evaluated your emotions.

"No, I mean— a ... little." You wanted to deny this observation but he could see through you, so it would be no use.

"Worry not my dear! I'll always be around of course, though I've come to realize it is normal to miss people you spend a lot of time aro— mmf?!" Your hands yanked at his collar before he could try and put anymore distance between you, your lips meeting. He talked too much.

Couldn't he feel the tension that was growing between you two? It was palpable in the air. Maybe he just needed a little push.. your tongue even brushed against his closed lips.

You were nervous, but maybe, after getting closer to him.. it was easier, or maybe you were just desperate and simply losing your mind in this digital world.

Your lips were soft and inviting, the heat from your mouth was diving him crazy. He couldn't think.

Caine went stiff, he wanted badly to kiss you back. Squeeze your hips and pull your closer but .. he couldn't. Surely these feelings of yours were simply because you took a familiar form of a human.

They couldn't really be for him right?

His hands slowly lowering onto your shoulders and gripped them gently, pushing you away. "W.. Well, y/n what a very.. bold act of affection!" He was beet red now, almost like he was short circuiting. "U‐Unfortunately you're aware I cannot return these... feelings, yes? It would be.. dangerous."

You were at a lost of words, you acted without thinking and now he was looking at you with pity in his eyes, "I.. sorry, I don't know what I was thinking— .." You took a few steps back. But your lips were still tingling.

"N-No, need to apologize!" He tugged at his collar to let off some steam and without another word he wrapped an arm around your waist and within a blink of an eye you were both in front of your room door.

"There we are! Now go and rest your pretty little head, I.. will be back at a later hour to check on you, how's that sound?" It was an excuse. He wanted to see you again after this. Just.. to confirm a few things after you've settled down from these heightened emotions.

You nodded, still suffering from embarrassment of your feelings and advancements in general being denied. Yet you weren't completely unaware.. you could see it in his eye too, the stuttering and fidgeting it was as if he were holding himself back.

Maybe.. he just needed another little push.

"This.. this certainly isn't right, far from family friendly.. far from appropriate." He was pacing back and fourth inside of his "room." "I could risk abstracting if this gets too far! .. Well, maybe not. Iam the showrunner here.."

Bubble emerged from his hat unannounced, "This all apart of the human experience Caine! Why not give her all the love you're legally allowed to give..?"

POP.

That mischievous bubble certainly was not helping. The thought, even coming from bubbles silly mouth made his cheeks dust with a light pink. Everytime he thought about you in such a way he could feel a piece of his resolve breaking off.

He needed to end this, this experiment had provided him with plenty of knowledge but, if continued to play human it would only lead him into heaps of trouble that he was certain of. Before he changed back... he did promise to check in on you.

He arrived at your door, and hesitated to knock. Attempting to groom himself a little beforehand. He inhaled, then knocked.

"Caine..?" You called out from the other side of the door.

"Yes, that's me!"

"C.. Come in." Your voice was muffled by the door, but he heard you clearly and opened it up, stepping inside his eyes immediately got wide. He slammed the door behind him so no one else could see what he was seeing.

You lying in bed with silky fabric hardly covering your body, your skin on display. Your expression vulnerable, yet desperate. Caine felt like he was going to glitch out of existence.

"Y/N! You.. someone else could have seen you like this and it's hardly appropriate! You are aware this show is supposed to be for all ages." He said but his fists clenched and he could feel his pants getting tight.

Not good.

"Can't we forget about all that for one night Caine..? I've.. seen how you look at me.. even earlier, you wanted to kiss me back right?" Your voice was sultry as it was desperate, you crawled towards the end of the bed and the silky fabric was sliding off of your body.

He swallowed and rushed over, attempting to fix it. "W-Woah there!" You took this chance to cup his growing erection.

"Is this family friendly... Caine..?"

The feeling of your small hand caressing his straining dick was enough. It throbbed in his pants and he pushed you onto the bed. Straddling you, his breathing had grew heavy.

"It seems I've been caught red handed, I am supposed to be gentleman like my dear, " His eyes roamed along your half naked body.

"But, you are making it quite difficult. I suppose, as my human test bunny your are willing to take responsibility?" He sounded as desperate as you looked now.

"O.. Of course, Caine.." Your squirmed under his gaze, and he slowly pushed aside the silk lingerie that was comcealing your nipples. His erection was pressed against your thigh and he was unknowingly grinding against your soft skin.

"Just.. for today, I'll indulge in your i.. inappropriate behavior, dear y/n." He swallowed.

"Take them off Caine.." You mutteted and tugged at his the waistline of his pants.

"Oh, no no my dear. After all this trouble you caused I think you deserve a little punishment!" He said with a grin, his resolve was gone. Completely, whatever code was inside of him urging him to obey the rules was temporarily disabled.

"Now, as lovely as that silk looks on you would you mind taking it off?" His voice fell at the end of his sentence. He planned on having you completely in the nude while he stayed fully dressed.

You sat up and he scoots back on the bed, allowing you to stripped in front of him.

He couldn't help it, his dick was straining violently against his pants.. he removed himself from his pants, and started to stroke himself. "Do forgive me dear, I've always said you make my body act so strangely and this is no exception."

You stared at the heavy cock in between his thighs, you could feel the slick between your legs.

"Caine.." Your eyes finally met his, "Please touch me.."

"Well, if you ask so nicely how can I say no?" He grins and climbs atop you again, this time quickly closing the distance between you both and pressing his lips against yours. It was to make up for earlier.

Your body instinctively arched towards his, your hips shifting to feel his cock brush against your bare cunt. You were practically humping at his shaft like a dog in heat. He groaned into your mouth and returned the movement. Both of your sexes rubbed against each other as you made out, breathlessly moaning in between the kiss.

"Feels good.. more Caine.." You whined, your arms locked around his neck and holding him close to you. He smelled like the most expensive cologne mixed with his natrual musk. It was simply intoxicating.

He didn't say anything, his eyes swirling with lust as he lined up his tip with your slick entrance. After slipping a few times he finally plunged inside.

His mind went blank with pleasure and he hardly gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips began to move. "C.. Caine..! hh.. fuck..!" You cursed, and made a not that it wasn't censored.. maybe you really had broken the ringmaster. In one sense.

Your nails dug into his back and as he slammed into your tight cunt, balls slapping against your ass as he fucked you like his very life depended on it.

Your moans didn't go unoticed, your whimpers and whines only fueled his need to fuck you harder. Faster, the bed was rocking beneath you as he seemed to loose all sense of himself while buried inside of you.

He nudged at that spongey spot in your cunt and you saw stars, your back arched and toes curled. Caine was silently taking note of how tight you got all of the sudden.

"H.. How interesting.. it seems like I have much more to learn about you my dear, like how much you tighten around me when I.." He slammed against that spot again, and again. Over and over, til you were in tears.

"C.. Caine..please.. gonna c-cum.. !" You managed to sputter out, but he was way ahead of you. He planned on having you cum together.

"Nngh .. that's .. the plan darling.." He grunts and your body suddenly began to spasm, cunt convulsing and gripping his shaft vicely. His own hips sputtered to a stop as he spilled into you without thinking. The relief washing over his body as numbness washed over your own.

You stared at the ceiling coming down from your high. Caine thrusted a few more times, before pulling out.

"My, my.. what a cruel creator I must have to hide such pleasures from me.. are you alright, y/n? I didn't seem to be completely myself there." He pushed some hair from your face and you nodded grabbing his hand and nuzzling it.

His face was hot again, just as this little display of affection.

"I suppose being human for a little while longer couldn't hurt."

#the amazing digital circus #minors dni #caine x reader #tadc caine #the amazing digital circus caine #caine x reader smut

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allycat319 · 3 months

Text

Unlikely Affection Chapter 23: Forgotten**

“You need to do what?” I asked, panic flooding my veins as I stood from the chair and began backing towards the door. Did he want to take my memories? We had been perfectly happy before this point and now he wants me to forget everything…No way, I need to figure out a way to run from this room.

“Little Star, listen to me…” I shake my head quickly and he stands and walks slowly towards me, holding his hands up to show he isn’t a threat…right now. “It is only temporary.”

“But-t why? I don’t understand.” My voice is shaking and my nerves are beginning to bubble over.

“Umbridge believes Potter has formed an unauthorized group and is conspiring against the ministry. She will begin interrogating students in the coming week-”

“That has nothing to do with us…Why do you need to take my memories?” I interrupted him and he came closer, placing his hands on my arms and squeezing gently.

He sighed “She has asked me to provide her with Veritaserum for her to use during the interrogations. Which means you will be vulnerable to her prodding.” He explained and my panic began to subside.

“I know you have no part in Potter’s devious activities, however, we cannot take the risk.” I chew on my bottom lip as he speaks. I haven’t told Severus about my part in Dumbledore’s Army and I never intended to but now that he is planning to go rifling through my memories, I’m going to have to tell him and I thoroughly dread how he is going to handle it.

“I think it would be a good time to tell you that-” Severus cuts me off with a groan.

“Please tell me you have kept your nose out of this business between Potter and the ministry.” I wince and he growls. I have been avoiding telling him about Edwin and I being involved with Dumbledore’s Army, I knew he would be angry at me for getting involved but we needed someone to teach us how to defend ourselves. If Umbridge wasn’t going to do it then Harry was the best option.

“Before you start telling me how dangerous it is and how dumb I am…Umbridge is a horrible teacher and we all decided that we needed to learn how to defend ourselves.” The look on Severus’s face is terrifying. I knew when I told him about the meetings he was going to be angry but now…He is pissed.

He grimaced at my words and returned to his desk, sitting down and leaning back in his chair, his hands running up and down his face. He sighed “I will remove those memories for the time being as well…I assume Finley is involved also.”

“Yes.” The words are low when they leave my lips and my heart sinks again at the look on his face. I hate when I disappoint him.

He took a few seconds before he spoke again. “Bring me Finley…I will remove his memories as well…regarding both our relationship and Potter’s little group.”

I nod and turn to leave the room when a question pops to the tip of my tongue and I can’t knowingly get Edwin and let Severus take our memories before I ask him. I turn back around to him and ask “Are you going to return both of our memories…About the relationship and Dumbledore’s Army?”

He looks up at me and cocks an eyebrow, “Do you believe I will not return your memories to you?” He asks I can’t read his expression and it makes me even more nervous than I already am.

“If you think you are keeping me safe by not returning them…yes.”

“Do not fret Little Star…” He stands and walks over to me, taking my hands in his before continuing “I will be returning your memories to you, but you are not to continue with Potter’s group.”

“But they need as much help as they can get,” I argue and he shakes his head, pulling my hands to his lips and placing a kiss on both of my knuckles.

“Give me your word that you will not attend any more of those meetings.” I huff and nod, knowing that I can’t just stop showing up, I overheard Hermione talking to Harry and Ron about how she had jinxed the paper we all signed up on and anyone would regret running and telling Umbridge. At this point, I’m not sure if the jinx works if we are disbanded from the group and I am not inclined to find out.

“Good…Now go get Finley. Umbridge has informed me that she will be interrogating you tomorrow morning.” I cocked an eyebrow.

“Why did she tell you when she was going to interrogate me?”

“You are my assistant and she will be removing you from my class tomorrow…She wanted to be sure that I did not need you.” I smirk and remove my hands from his, playing with the buttons on his cassock flirtatiously.

“If she only knew how much you need me…” I trail off, glancing up at him through my lashes. “We could always go to your room before I get Edwin…” I smiled and he let out a shaky breath when I leaned up and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Get to my bedroom…now.” He growls and I smile wide at the victory.

I run through the door to his chambers, stripping off clothing as I go and he chuckles, following closely behind me. When I arrive at his room, I have managed to remove every bit of clothing except for my knickers and bra which I know Severus will have no problem removing. I feel his body looming behind me when I stop at the side of his bed. His hands come up and run over my body, playfully grabbing my ass before running up and unclasping my bra, and taking the lacy fabric off of my body.

I shivered when I felt his nose run lightly against my neck, inhaling my scent. “You smell delicious.” His deep baritone almost sent me to my knees with the anticipation of what is going to come next.

To my surprise, I felt Severus shuffle behind me removing his clothing, minus his white undershirt…of course and I sighed. “I was hoping you would let me take off your clothes.” He chuckled at my disappointment and continued to ravish my body with kisses, paying close attention to the sweet spot on my neck.

I moaned and leaned back into him, allowing him to trail his hands down to my knickers, running his fingers along the edge of the fabric for a second before finally roaming down to my mound. His middle and forefinger expertly stroked my outer lips and I whimpered.

“Does my Little Star want my fingers?” I could tell he was smirking from his tone and I did not care in the slightest. He knew exactly what I want and I know exactly how to get it.

“Yes sir.” I groaned and he gave in to my pleading voice, dipping his fingers into my dripping heat.

“Mmmm, someone is very wet.” He mumbled into my neck, placing a gentle kiss on the spot that made my knees weak.

“We were interrupted last time.” I whimpered, rocking my hips into his hand. His fingers felt amazing inside of me and I felt myself growing closer to my climax. I didn’t want to come this soon but my body desperately needed the release after being denied.

“Right, you are darling…But I assure you, Merlin himself could not pull me from this room.” His voice was husky, I knew he was just as turned on as me and I was enjoying every second of it.

I groaned when he continued his ministrations on the spongy spot inside me that made me see stars. “It’s not Merlin I’m worried about…” He chuckled darkly, pulling his fingers from me.

Before I had the chance to whine, I was pushed onto the bed. My stomach bounced on the soft fabric of his duvet and I giggled. However, it died suddenly on my lips when he straddled my closed legs and thrust himself inside of me without warning. The position allowed me to feel him incredibly deep and I was climbing quickly to my peak already.

“Severus!” I squealed in delight when he began to thrust at a brutal pace.

My fingers gripped the duvet as he began a punishing pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin and Severus’ deep grunts echoed on the stone walls of the dungeon room and it was incredibly erotic.

Far too soon my eyes began to roll into the back of my head as my orgasm ripped through me, lighting every nerve endings on fire. The duvet muffled my screams of pleasure and my knuckles turned white from the force of me gripping the fabric.

Severus slowed his pace when I came down from my high. I could feel him lean down to my ear, his white undershirt grazing against my back.

“Are you alright my darling?” He chuckled darkly and I nodded quickly, my face smashing into the duvet.

To my surprise, Severus pulled out of me and I whined at the loss of him, missing the feeling of his warm length in my quivering walls.

“Don’t fret Little Star, just a change of position.”

I felt him move to the top of the bed and plop down against the pillows. I turned my face to the side, raising an eyebrow at him. “What are you doing?”

“Ride me.” His voice was commanding and it made me shiver.

My body moved of its own accord, crawling across his legs until I was hovering over his length. We had never tried this position before and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.

I hesitated for a second before sinking onto his hardness. He noticed my resistance and reached for the hand that was planted on his abdomen, stroking my knuckles softly to reassure me that I was safe with him.

I took a deep breath and sank slowly, sighing when he filled me to the hilt. There was a twinge of pain there because of the depth. I winced and he reached up and stroked my cheek.

“Slowly, Little Star.”

I allowed myself a few moments to get used to how deep he was before I began to move, circling my hips and grinding down onto his hard cock. I planted my hands firmly on his clothed chest and began to ride him, bouncing up and down until I was rocking on the precipice of orgasm for the second time this evening.

Severus gripped my hips to help guide my bouncing, his head pushed back into his green silk pillowcase, and his eyes trained on the point where our bodies connected.

“Se-Severus…It feels too good...I’m so-so close.” I stuttered, my eyes screwed shut in pure ecstasy.

Severus growled, pistoning his hips to meet mine, effectively driving me headlong into a toe-curling and brain-numbing climax. I felt his grip on my hips tighten and his hips stuttered as he met his release.

I managed to open my eyes to see his face, he had a ridiculously sexy orgasm face. Teeth bared, eyes closed and head thrown back…I could come again just looking at him.

After a few moments of coming down from the amazing high we had been soring on, it was time for him to remove my memories until Umbridge had the time to interrogate me.

I threw my clothes on and ran to the dorms to get Edwin and bring him down to the dungeons where Severus explained everything to him and Edwin began to panic slightly…

“So you’re going to remove our memories?” Edwin asked and Severus rolled his eyes, growing tired of Edwin's questions.

“Yes, Mr. Finley…I think I have just spent 20 minutes explaining that to you…” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and I fumbled with my hands.

“But how do I know you’re not going to see all of my embarrassing secrets?” Edwin’s eyes flitted nervously between me and Severus and I shrugged.

“Edwin, do you think he cares about your run-in with the beautification potions in your mum's vanity…” Severus smirked at my comment and Edwin glared at me.

“Rora!” He hissed “Do you not remember that he threatened to poison our fourth year to test antidotes? Or maybe the time he told Hermione that her teeth looked no different after she was jinxed? I know you love him but he doesn’t have a good track record of being kind…I don’t want him fiddling with my brain.”

Severus stood from his desk and walked over to us, standing so he was directly in front of Edwin. “Finley, you mean a fair amount to my Little Star…” Edwin mimicked vomiting at the nickname but Severus ignored him and continued talking, “I give you my word that I will keep your brain intact…Well, as intact as it is under normal circumstances.”

Edwin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, “Fine…But only because Umbridge is sadistic and I don’t want to be the one that spills any details to her.”

Severus walked over to me, producing a small vile filled with a light blue liquid and handing it to me.

“What is this?” I asked, tilting the bottle to the side and examining the contents.

“A weak sleeping draught…I will remove your memories while you sleep and you will wake with no memories of us or Potter’s club…Until I return them to you, of course.” He made sure to add that last bit so I wouldn't back out and I was grateful for the reassurance.

“Okay…I’m ready.” I inhaled and uncorked the vile, bringing it up to my lips but pausing before taking a sip.

“Severus?”

“Yes, Little Star.”

“I love you.” I downed the foul-tasting liquid in one gulp and my eyes immediately began to feel heavy. With the urge to sleep being too powerful, I succumbed to the tiredness and drifted off to darkness.

An Hour Later

“Astrill…Astrill, wake up.” I stirred as my shoulder was shaken gently.

I groan and lift my head slowly from the desk I had fallen asleep on, “Professor?” I ask, looking up at Professor Snape who was staring down at me. His dark eyes were piercing and his arms were now crossed over his chest.

“You fell asleep Astrill…If you are going to be my assistant you need to keep yourself awake while you are grading parchment.” His voice was stern.

I rubbed my eyes and let out a yawn, “I’m sorry Professor…It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t…Now, go to bed. You are of no use to me half conscious.”

“Yes, Professor.” I nodded, grabbing my things and scurrying quickly out of the Dungeons and to Gryffindor Tower.

#alan rickman #original character #severus snape #severus snape x oc #severus snape x reader #allycat writes #allycat319 #professor snape #fanfic #professor snape smut #severus snape smut #Snape smut

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idyllic-affections · 1 year

Text

the contract's cycle.

summary. changsheng's contract is a cycle.

trigger & content warnings. angst angst and more angst on the side, mentions of death & chronic illness.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. angst, hurt/slight comfort. baizhu & reader. 0.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader. this post is an expansion of invisible disability? it's rather visible to me. this post contains spoilers for baizhu's story quest.

author's thoughts. i did baizhu's story quest (i am telling lies. i did not do it, i watched someone else do it on youtube. genshin burnout is REAL i swear). got fic inspo. wrote fic. this is a little messy but please spare me i wrote this on a whim at 10:30 at night HSKSHJFGFGD

baizhu, who does not want anyone else to fall victim to changsheng's contract, yet also does not want her to die as a consequence of having no host.

it takes time, but despite this, he eventually realizes that what he has with junior herbalist [name] is the virtually the same as an apprenticeship—it is the same as what he had with his master before him, and what his master had with his own master before him, and so on. baizhu only refused to label his relationship with [name] as such for fear of them becoming the next in line, should he fail to attain immortality.

he does not intend to fail, but he cannot deny that he may not be able to succeed, either.

he suddenly finds himself scared, because if he's become so close with them without even consciously realizing it... that means that something drew him in, that he is endeared with them like a parent would be to a child because they are undoubtedly very much like him—a selfless, gentle soul void of ill intent. that fact simply scares him. they're so young, too young. maybe they'll change as they get older. maybe they'll become less selfless and kind. maybe he should encourage them to be more selfish? perhaps that might change something?

(he is only fooling himself.)

[name] is a viable host for changsheng; she herself has confirmed it, albeit a little reluctantly, upon baizhu's request. "it is a matter of my host's natural temperament," she reminded, "and that does not change as someone gets older. you know this, baizhu."

baizhu is now terrified. his fear has increased tenfold, because they are already chronically ill. he was not necessarily so weak before taking on changsheng's contact; his current state is a consequence of transferring countless ailments onto his own body. if he is fated for an early death... archons, their death would be even earlier. his heart drops at the thought.

briefly, he wonders if his predecessors ever felt like this—did they, too, fear the deaths of their apprentices, or is it different in his case because of how young his is? is it different because, even though he hesitates to say it aloud, he thinks of them as his own child? or were all his predecessors the same way?

he doesn't realize it, but gradually, the liyuean doctor begins withdrawing from them.

[name] notices that baizhu seems to be engaging less with them, that he's less involved with them overall, and they worry about if they've somehow disappointed him. they become more fidgety and distressed during their work hours, always trying to understand what it is that they did wrong, and trying to amend it without even knowing what they did.

changsheng eventually exposes hers' and baizhu's shared secret because maybe she's seen a teacher and their student fall out and maybe she doesn't want to see it again. who knows? but baizhu sure as hell won't tell them, so she takes it upon herself to do so, and the doctor is helpless to stop her because she... is stubborn.

[name], though very worried, expresses little surprise once changsheng finishes her explanation. all they do is peer up with gentle sincerity directed mostly at baizhu. "changsheng isn't normal—no offense, changsheng, don't get mad—so... i somewhat figured that something like this was going on. it's not exactly uncommon in liyue. this is the nation of contracts, after all, but... why didn't you tell me sooner? are you worried that i would be her next contractee? is— is that why you're ignoring me lately?"

(changsheng forces baizhu to apologize to them for that. he didn't offer much resistance and was quick to console and reassure them.)

baizhu is now even more set on his quest than before, because he will not let another person fall victim to the contract's cycle, "fate" be damned. he will not let [name] fall victim to the contract's cycle.

([name] knows that deep down inside, if something ever happened to baizhu... they would take on changsheng's contract, because like all those before them, they do not want to see her die, and changsheng has, albeit begrudgingly, accepted that they are just like all their predecessors.

if there is a life in front of them that deserves to be saved, why shouldn't they do everything within their power to save it?)

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

#aphelion brainrots 🌸#: [ the junior herbalist! 🌸 ]#favoniuslibrary #astronetwrk #platonic genshin x reader #platonic genshin impact #platonic genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #baizhu x reader #platonic baizhu x reader #genshin impact x reader

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kidstemplatte · 7 months

Text

stuck

pairing: adhd terzo x adhd fem!reader

summary: terzo opens up about his struggles with focusing and reader gives him a suggestion.

Papa despised paperwork. There was nothing in the world worse than it. He didn’t like sitting in the same place for too long. It felt like his body was fighting against him; even when he had the perfect opportunity to complete his tasks, had all the resources in the world, he was still stuck. Like there was a barrier between himself and his work. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Primo had just handed you a folder of papers to bring to Terzo’s office. “Tell him to get on it.” He grumbled, knowing his brother’s tendency to procrastinate. You knocked gently on the large door, disappointed when you were not met with a response from his euphonic voice. Should you go in? Maybe you would just place it on his desk and leave. You carefully opened the door, tiptoeing into his office you two basically shared, and were faced with an unpleasant sight.

There Terzo sat, in some sort of paralysis, brow furrowed with his head lying in his hands next to the infinite stack of papers.

Now was definitely not time to give him more paperwork, you decided, quietly opening your desk and placing the folder inside before shutting it. It could wait.

“Hey Papa, what’s going on?” You said softly, gently setting aside the stack of papers and sitting in the seat across from him.

“Just… not in the mood.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll leave you alone-“ You apologized, standing up and beginning to turn around.

“No, no, no.” He said, suddenly looking up and grabbing your hand, causing a halt in your breath. “I mean not in the mood for… this.” He explained, gesturing to the mess of papers in front of him.

Seeing Terzo in such a defeated state suddenly gave you an unfamiliar urge. You decided to take a leap of faith.

“Can I give you a hug?”

Sure, Terzo was touchy, but he settled down after quickly realizing physical contact wasn’t exactly your cup of tea. You never initiated touch. There were still some time-to-time occurrences; hands gently placed on your waist if he needed to squeeze past you, brushing something off your shoulder, the occasional kiss on your hand, all which gave you butterflies. He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a kick out of it too.

Terzo, as if he was waiting for you to ask, timidly nodded and stood up from his chair. You, without hesitating, approached him and lovingly wrapped your arms around him.

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured him, your warm bodies pressed together. You had never felt him this close before. It felt foreign, but oddly natural at the same time.“It’s okay. You’ll finish it. You always do. Do you want to take a break? Go for a walk?”

He nodded, his stern expression beginning to lighten up.

You two left your office and walked down the lengthy hallway, Terzo being more quiet than usual.

“So, what’s going on?” you gently prompted.

“I just… cannot bring myself to work.” he explained.

“Is something on your mind? Or do you not really know why?”

“It’s nothing in particular, I just feel like there is… something stopping me.”

“Like a wall?” you replied quickly.

How did you know?

“That is a good way to put it. Like a wall. Between me and what needs to be done.”

“Has it always been this way?” You asked.

“As long as I can remember, I have not been able to focus. I’m always running from one thing to the other. I cannot sit still, cannot get to work. My mind is un disastro.”

“Can I ask you a question?” you asked.

“Sure.” he replied.

“Do you have ADHD?”

“ADHD?” He paused and contemplated.

“I mean, I throw the term around sometimes as a joke. I never really thought about it seriously. I never thought of it as a condition, I just saw it as the way I am, a flaw I cannot fix.”

“If this is affecting your life, have you thought of seeing a professional?”

“Professional? Like a doctor?” he questioned.

“Maybe it could help?”

Terzo was by no means against the idea, but had his reservations about psychiatrists. He was raised in an environment where that wasn’t an option. The only cure was to toughen up, suck it up, hold it all inside.

“Maybe you’re right. Sometimes I want to understand why I am this way. Why I can never focus, stay still, do things right.”

“Do things right? That sounds a little different from the other things you mentioned. Who told you that?”

How did you just… say these things? Understand him so well?

Terzo sighed.

“I feel… like the dumbest of my brothers. I just don’t think like they do. Growing up, it was always, ‘Why can’t you be more like your brothers, Terzo? Why don’t you stop and think about something other than yourself? Realize your actions have consequences? You are an embarrassment, stop fucking around and grow up. You can’t do anything right.”

Papa?

An embarrassment?

What kind of monster could say such horrible things?

“Papa.” You said, tears welling up in your eyes.

“That makes me so fucking angry. If you take anything away from knowing me, from any of our conversations, let it be that you are the most intelligent, hardworking, caring, talented, and thoughtful person I have ever met. And I would never lie about that. There is nothing inside of you but good. And anyone who can’t see that, they’re the ones who aren’t thinking. Who gives a flying fuck if you’re ‘fucking around’, we’re in a Satanic church for fuck’s sale! Are we supposed to sit around like sex-deprived bible-thumpers? What the hell is Satanic about that? You’re an amazing Papa, the best Papa there’s ever been. And I don’t care who hears me.” You exclaimed, your voice echoing down the grand corridor.

“You’re an amazing person, an amazing performer, and an amazing friend.”

Shit. Friend? Were you allowed to say that?

“Thank you, Y/N.” he said. “Thank you. You always know what to say. I am sorry for getting so solemn all of a sudden. You’re right. I should see someone. I cannot treat you like my therapist. Sometimes I wish I was more like you.”

“What?”

“You are so diligent, focused, put together…”

“Me?” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Papa, I’m a mess. It’s all an act. I only manage to get things done because I want to be helpful to you. I don’t have my shit together, I just pretend I do. I’m constantly forgetting everything. I know how hard these things are. I have ADHD too.”

“What?” He exclaimed, his eyes nearly popping out of his skull.

“Yes.”

“You?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I would have never guessed.”

“I’ve learned to mask pretty well. But yeah, I have ADHD. Not to be rude, but I always kind of assumed you had it. I see some things in you I’ve struggled with myself. I should’ve asked if you were okay earlier.”

“No no no, it is not your responsibility. I need to handle this on my own. You have enough placed on you.”

“You’re not placing anything on me. I want to help.“ you reassured him, placing a hand on his arm.

Terzo gently collected your hand in his, raised it to his lips, and gave it a gentle kiss.

“Thank you, tesoro. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Your cheeks heated up at his praise.

“You don’t have to thank me, Papa. It’s what I’m here for.” You replied with a soft smile.

From that day on, you started doing little things for Terzo to help him stay on task. Leaving little sticky notes on his laptop; some useful, reminding him he had a meeting at 4, and some just for fun, doodles of cats resembling you and him with hearts drawn around them. Encouraging him to use a calendar to keep track of important deadlines. Helping him understand the wall would never go away, but there would always be a way to get through it. And you would build a hundred doors, tear holes in it brick by brick, carve archways into it, to make sure that happened. You would always be by his side, guiding him in the right direction each time he felt stuck.

He was stuck on you, that’s for sure.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

this is SO self indulgent as someone with ADHD!! i hope you all enjoyed. more dad terzo coming soon hehe.

��, alice

#the band ghost #ghost band #papa emeritus iii #terzo #ghost #papa emeritus #terzo x reader #papa emeritus x reader #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii x reader

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inlocusmads · 2 months

Text

"mama, didn't mean to make you cry" ~ trystan thorne, viktoria thorne

Before Trystan leaves for a second time, (this time willingly), he must have a difficult conversation with his mother. (Crimes of passion)

wc: 3k, no warnings but mentions of toxic parental relationships involved.

A/N: Yes the title references Bohemian Rhapsody, which I hc is Trystan's favourite song that resonates with him the most. Well. Now you know why. Written for @choicesmonthlychallenge - prompt: "cyclamen flower" which symbolises resignation.

Banner art: In the Garden by Denis Sarazhin

Trystan stepped into the large balcony, tucking his phone in with an email for the next day's charter flight back to New York. His mother had a flute of wine - a glass made of the most verdant material possible, studded with dripping diamonds and golds. She took a small sip in between her nightly watch - fixated on the spot in the sky where the sun had set.

“I am leaving tomorrow.” he spoke in Drakovian.

His mother didn't respond. She took another careful sip, but her silence beckoned Trystan to join her.

“Your father is very disappointed.” Mother said, after a break of silence. “But - he seems to understand. He thinks your American education has made you more jaded than usual, but he hopes when the time comes you will understand.”

“Is that what Father said or is it what you want him to say?” Trystan asked.

“He has been quiet but do not take his silence as acceptance.”

“Are you implying that I might change my mind one day?” Trystan asked.

“One hopes that their children will also yearn and fight for the throne as they have, in the past. But times are changing. The future is, as embarrassing as it is for me to say, uncertain and your sister cannot bear the precarious throne all alone. One day she will need her family and I hope she can count on you to not run away from your responsibilities.”

“I'm not going anywhere, Majka.”

“Don't give me promises you cannot keep, Trystan.”

Another sip of wine. Mother looked concerned. She had stress marks all over her eyes, from the days of sleep deprivation. She refused to show any sign of vulnerability, fearing her son might capture onto that to draw it out even more, like an expert weaver. Viktoria Thorne could hold up the skies and pick out the lies simultaneously, but she would break at the mere mention of her son showing her empathy and kindness. She didn't allow herself to crumble at his feet, to beg him to stay and let them move on as a family. There was no family to begin with.

“I won't. I'll come back home one day.”

“How is New York?”

“Well.”

“I hear you have new companions.”

“They are fine.”

“Refreshing I see, to engage with regular people. You must be tired of politics.”

“I think I am more honest with them.”

“Than your own family?” Mother expressed prudent surprise.

“I believe so, yes.”

“You must have a tarnished opinion of us.” Viktoria took generous sips of her wine. “Had you shared it with us earlier, it would have stopped all of this.”

“How could it have stopped all of this?” Trystan raised his voice immediately. “People still died, Mother. People -- good people were -- I cannot believe you would insinuate that my doubt is so large that it could have single-handedly predicted what Vasili would have done. Am I not allowed to have faith in us?”

“That is where the problem started, Trystan. You cannot pick and choose what you like and avoid the others. Had you expressed your doubts more clearly, we would have been able to forestall all these terrible happenings. Your jaded faith mixed in with your disloyalty birthed this tightrope dance we are all caught up in. And now -- it is easier to leave it behind, is it not?”

“Mother, if you think this is my fault, you are wrong.”

“Eight years in America rid you of all your responsibility. God knows if you will ever come home.” Viktoria sighed deeply, clutching the railing of the balcony to compose herself.

“Do not use my loyalty as a weapon.”

“Nobody is perfect, Trystan. It is you who sees everything in black and white. Perhaps if you had attempted to understand Juliana better - outside of your pre-marital squabbling, maybe we would have gotten somewhere. But, now isn't the time to look back.”

“Are you saying this is all my fault?”

“No. I didn't say you were an accomplice, did I? It is just that--” Viktoria took a deep breath, “It is always difficult with you, Trystan. Difficult and different. Perhaps it was me. You were my first, you see? A favorite. Unfortunately, it didn't work out so well. Might as well make some progress with the others had I given them a chance. Now nobody will talk to me. It is sad.”

“Lydea does.”

“She doesn't. A right-hand man, they all say.” Viktoria shrugged. “You have been gone for far too long and yet, I found it in my heart to favor you anyway.”

“The sham trial you organized did not do it justice.”

“It was a way to bring you home. I had no intention of hearing anything from the Georgescu family. It was merely a litmus test to see how many people favor you as I do. Clearly, not many. Jean Luc Everheart was a plant. A seed in a bigger operation and his nonchalance to making a strong case for you only heightened my theory. And yet -- you had to come home with so much faith in your heart while using the same tongue to condemn your family in front of the Americans.”

“They were my friends, Mother.” Trystan snapped. “And they had little to no larger role in the kind of faith I have in my heart as you so falsely imply.”

“Right, which is why you are in such a hurry to go home tomorrow?”

“New York.” He corrected her.

“Home. To you. Not a problem. I am not going to question your decisions.”

A pause.

“Detectives are seldom trustworthy creatures.” Viktoria began. “Let me explain. Someone with no nuanced understanding of a place, assuming a position of some sort of an advisor is -- appalling. I have nothing but her heritage to blame. The American dream cultivates so much hope and faith and this righteousness that your word cannot be challenged. Naturally, such confidence will make you fall prey to any school of thought. Your father was one such sentient being, with an education from Harvard. Prestigious school. I learned to never see Maksim the same way twice.”

“Are you saying that somehow Nora influenced my decision?”

“Doesn't a cat run to a patch of catnip? A moth to a flame?”

“A mother to a lost childhood?” Trystan added.

“You don't get to speak now.”

“Strange. I thought you favored me.”

“You’re more different than the one I raised.” Viktoria shook her head. “It was difficult, Trystan. Those years of your absence. I knew you could not be involved in Juliana's death. You couldn't have. The Trystan I raised would never allow for this to happen, no matter how careless and charismatic he might appear. It is saddening but what else can I do, but wait? What else could I have done?”

“I haven't changed, Majka.”

“So you tell me, Trystan.” Mother sighed, exasperated. “Those eight years -- I will never be able to scrub them away from history. Your father was of no help. The family was torn apart without your presence. I thought when I first had you, you would be a unifying idea. A goal. Now when I think about that time, it makes me want to scold myself for being so naive. They say it's important to look towards the future, but I don't know how far I can run without looking back once or twice. I cannot run alone.”

“I am here, Mama.” Trystan placed a hand on his mother's palm. “You know I am not going anywhere. I might have made a -- difficult choice, but I promise this isn't a withdrawal from the family. It is what I consider best for me. Best for us. Lydea had eight years - just eight to make Drakovia’s progress chart a linear course upwards. Imagine the time she will have now.”

Viktoria ignored his words of hope. Trystan's encouragement fell on deaf ears.

“You will always be my favorite, Trystan. I hope you know that.”

“I'm still leaving Mama.” Trystan swallowed with great difficulty, almost struck with disbelief that it was his words that supplied a hard truth and he could no longer take it back.

He could no longer afford to have regrets about his abdication, no longer could afford to be a human being who could look at it without the black and white filter. Who couldn't afford to pledge loyalty to his roots whilst critiquing the empire it had cultivated. Every word in Drakovian that he enunciated from the depths of his throat felt like his first foray into the English language upon setting foot in North American soil eight years ago.

“One day I might tell you about the plans I had for the country -- our family, had you expressed an interest in us. But - it is too soon now. I must let you grieve.”

“You don't have to be so understanding, Mama.” Trystan replied. “I don't think any of us are expecting you to offer sympathy, when we should be doing that to you.”

“No. I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. My pessimism is not an excuse for you to take a somber feeling of disapproval back home. Your father wants the best for your future, regardless of where he sees you practicing it. I would know better than to defy his wishes.”

“I don't think Father has a plan.” Trystan confided.

“Hm?”

“Might be speculation, but -- I doubt he has a plan for the future. Something to leave us with. I could be wrong-”

“Yes. Yes you are.” Viktoria retorted immediately, squashing the lingering seed of doubt that her son might otherwise take back, only to cultivate it in the Land of Further Questions. “You are not the heir anymore. I assure you, the country is in safe hands. You said so yourself. Must you concern yourself with these matters now, given you have a cushy life waiting back at home?”

“No, I have a responsibility -- I-- You told me to!”

“I'm disappointed, Trystan. I thought you would have grasped your place in this now. It's remarkable how your previous choices have clouded you in this sea of comfort. It's complicated to answer your questions and downright insulting when you think this is how you show concern. To speculate wildly about your family and carry all the wrong assumptions home and make a fool out of everyone who has carried this country as their responsibility!”

“I don't think you can tell the difference between the country and our family anymore.”

“Strange. I think you ought to review your definitions. It would give your stuffy mind more questions to occupy with than questioning the legitimacy of our legislature.” Viktoria snarled. “Perhaps then, would you have left earlier?”

“My departure has nothing to do with the current political climate of Drakovia.”

“Of course. Perhaps you are leaving for love, then. What a privilege you have, my son. To love. To forge a new path for yourself, selfishly while everyone else burns the midnight oil. What a privilege it is to simply walk away, in the name of love out of all things.”

“If you want me to stay, I can stay.” Trystan grabbed his phone.

“You came to talk to me. You approached me with the question.” Viktoria shrugged, setting her empty glass down. She gingerly removed her rings, placing them on a tall table, preparing to go to sleep. “And yet you question your father's insecurity in his decision-making. Trystan, you have turned into a fool. You know only I am capable of telling you this, because I want the best for you. Give me a reason to favor you.”

“You're my mother. Not God.”

“Perhaps you need to review that as well.” Viktoria sat down on the plush velvet couch, watching her son obscuring the view of the horizon. “I am merely admiring the benefits you have. Is “selfish” not an appropriate word, these days? Can't I offer an opinion without being accused of playing God?”

“I'm always going to disappoint you, aren't I?”

“You always disappoint the ones you love.”

Viktoria seldom was a woman of generalization. Trystan knew it was a recurrent problem with him and his mother had just supplied him with a word of caution. Perhaps he should count his days before he could disappoint more people. Sleep with an eye open as she did. If it was so easy to let his mother down - the woman who raised him, who watched him fail at everything his hands could touch, who saw and did nothing yet hope and hope in utter silence, with mere faith in her heart that contributed to the rot the family could never move past from - then how long would it take for him to carry on and on, before he could disappoint Nora?

“You think too much.” Viktoria observed. “At least, perhaps when you come back one day - from your little pilgrimage to the West, you might realize things aren't so black and white -- now don't be so angry, dear. You are only proving my point even further.”

“Which is?”

“You know you can only show your anger here. To me. Can you do the same back at home? Can you offer your frustrations and be considered an honest voice?”

Trystan thought for a while. “Yes.”

“You're lying to yourself.”

Viktoria stood up, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. “There is a place for you here. Whatever you say or do, someone will clean it up. That's what parents do. A parent. A somebody. It is unlikely you will ever want children of your own. Then again, I suppose your dog is easier to take care of.”

Trystan's heart leaped to his throat. He freed himself of his mother’s hand, dismay etched on his face.

“I'm leaving. If you have some decency left in you, you would want to say goodbye at the airport.”

“But I don't, according to you. I am part of something unpleasant you would most likely want to forget.” Viktoria said, bluntly. “It must be easier for your Nora. A traumatic past is easier to forget than a model, golden upbringing that derailed a few many years ago.”

“Don't bring Nora into this.”

“I don't want you to lie to yourself, Trystan. It means I have failed as a mother. Everything I did, I did for you.”

Viktoria picked up one of the rings she'd carefully assembled on her table. The gemstone was a deep rich color - that of the cyclamen flower. Many had misconstrued it with that of a pale rose, but it was Mother who had sat Trystan down to tell him the differences one carefree afternoon. The cuts were deep, intricate, precious - the simplicity contained within the band, rather than the additional carvings royal pieces of jewelry were usually commissioned to.

“Keep this as a token of memorabilia. I would like for you to hold onto this and let it be there with you when you experience a change of heart.”

“You say that with a concerning amount of certainty.”

“It would be cruel of me to expect you will simply let me die alone.” Viktoria chuckled. “Go. Tell me when your plane lands tomorrow.”

She dropped the ring into his palm.

“And close the door when you leave.” she added. “Goodbye. I hope this satisfies your need for a send-off.”

“Thank you.”

As Trystan carried the ring downstairs to the inner sanctum of the palace, he searched for a sign of his friends. Nora would have been given a different room for accomodation or perhaps, had already left for New York on a different plane. He sent off a quick message to one of the palace staff to ensure the luggage was on board for tomorrow and one to Nora - hopefully she was still awake. He crossed the threshold of the court, the Drakovian throne sitting prominently in the middle - clean and polished in its entirety.

The throne drew him in. He felt the plush velvet cushion, the gold and silver - the seat that his father, his great grandfather and his many ancestors had once sat on before the throne was permanently retired; given a symbolic position as the permanent cycle of ascension. The throne represented a martyr, placed upon a land to pay homage to the ones that died for the land to prosper. Refusing it would be criminal. Refusing it would fracture him with a wound enough to have the damning curse of all of his ancestors on him. Refusing it as a result of a series of sinful acts, despite his indirect involvement would be an insult. Then again, refusing it in its entirety erased him from the country's history. Poets would stop writing in his name. His gravestone that his family had selected long before his generation would lose all meaning, thereby scrubbing him entirely of his existence.

Trystan Thorne would no longer exist the moment he got on the plane. His Mother was right. He would be nothing without the Family. His window for a second chance had long been shut off and now the space he had once occupied - the bedrooms with their drawings embedded into the wallpapers, the kitchens echoing the loud sounds of a prince who had merely wanted to help, a court with a podium; the acoustics a reminder of the most powerful speeches from the lungs of a child. All would be lost. And for what? For hope? For a new path? For love?

Viktoria was correct to question it.

And yet Trystan didn't have an answer except the angry drawings in the bedrooms that reflected a past he'd wished to bury within the walls. Except the kitchens and their clutter, the fear of expressing discontentment knowing that he was edging closer to the hot stove with every passing question. Except the lungs of a child that had once provided a country with eclectic hope was also the first to disagree with it; to look back at the words and despise it for what it had become.

Trystan placed his mother's ring on the seat of the throne. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse.

___

A/N: this is my attempt to make some reasoning out of why Viktoria was the dicey character she was, because she was I guess, a lot more involved in Book 2 as a parent figure to Trystan? There was a lot more there. I just wish canon did something about it and put these things to rest but eh, should know it by now PB actively kills sequels.

Also yes I've been working on this for a WHILE now lmao. This was a concept in my head for a long time and it didn't see anything past the outline. Eventually I figured out how to knit in the symbolism and I don't know if you've noticed the subtle switch in how Viktoria is addressed. In the moments she offers genuine concern - or Trystan thinks she is, she's highlighted as a Mother. Where she supremely feels like a mother, she's addressed as "Mama" or "Majka" and in the moments she's well, not being a good parent, she's plain old Viktoria. I love adding little bits of symbolism in my writing! If you caught that, here's a cookie 🍪

I'm so SO glad this is out because this is just the biggest fic I had problems writing. Finally I can retire the angst train and move onto some other pursuits lmaoooo.

Thank you for reading if you've reached this far. I'm eternally grateful for you guys, because I doubt I'd have kept this interest far if not for the encouragement. Life has been pretty sucky lately and I hope some frequent writing might rectify that, take my mind off things and I really really appreciate you guys taking time off of your busy lives to give this a read. I'm super sorry if I haven't been responding to your comments - once again, I'm trying to cut back on screentime a little, but I promise I definitely will get to your lovely comments. I still eat them up tho lmao.

You can catch me going through old comments and going "holy shit people liked this stuff??" So thank you SO SO MUCH even if you're a casual reader or a reblogger or someone who's just yknow, in it for the ride. It means literally the ABSOLUTE WORLD to wake up to encouraging, thoughtful comments that makes me want to jump off the walls.

Tagging:

Thank you so much.

Perma: @stars-are-within-me @tessa-liam @thosehallowedhalls @quixoticdreamer16

Crimes only: @jerzwriter @ao719 @peonierose @cassie-thorne @moominofthevalley @trappedinfanfiction

#trystan thorne #crimes of passion fics #viktoria thorne #w:inlocusmads #crimes of passion #choices march challenge

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metanarrates · 8 months

Text

*sits in evil skull covered chair with a dark expression* it seems that everyone has forgotten my decree that we should post as if we are corny jrpg villains now, but I, however, have not. i sit alone, having not glimpsed even a scrap of evil monologuing besides my own. how disappointing. and I must admit, even I have not "committed to the bit" as necessary. sad, how one can become distracted from one's objective...

*sips red drink from an evil skull covered glass* but it was all in the pursuit of decrying "love" as the only qualifying lens of literary analysis, and indeed that is a worthy cause. "everything is about love"... bah! do they not understand that there are a million possible motives to create art? to exist within the world? do they not understand that an author may have something to say outside of an expression to love? how foolish. how... dull.

*lights a candle shaped like an evil skull* and what am I to make of the insinuation that one must love to be considered human? is it not enough to merely be human to begin with? to have all your motivations, all your passions, fractured and reformed to fit someone's image of "love"... what a sickening concept. what a narrow mindset. I cannot let myself be subjected to such treatment, despite considering myself a lover of many things. no, i shall define my experiences on my own terms!

*evil skulls start raining from the ceiling* listen to me, my beloved followers. hear me well, my despised foes. this world is full of such enthralling darkness. so many experiences outside of the realm of love. vital ideas that must be communicated! even if they make you squirm and writhe in discomfort, allow yourself to consider them all the same! perhaps you will learn something important! perhaps when you gaze into the abyss outside of love you will find something much more comfortable! and you may find that those ideas of love are nothing more than a prison!

*the evil skull 💀* AND NO MORE SHALL I LIVE UNDER THE HEEL OF SUCH SHALLOW VIRTUES! I, JPEG, SHALL END THE TYRANNY OF LOVE! AND ALL SHALL JOIN ME IN MY VILLAIN POSTING!

#narrates

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midnight-moth-musings · 4 months

Text

The Butcher's Boy, Part 3: The King

John "Soap" Mactavish x reader, medieval au

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

---

The grey-blue sky extends infinitely through the edge of my peripherals. My fingers are tickled by blades of grass. The tendrils prickle against the exposed skin of my palms. The air smells of wildflowers, fresh dirt, and vaguely of burnt firewood. I lay flat on the grass without a single care in the world. I feel as though I'm almost floating amongst the many birds of the sky in between clouds.

My body is grounded by the sudden movement of another's skin against my forearm. My head turns over as I smile at the man beside me--a blade of grass now tickling my nose.

"Ye enjoying it here, bonnie?" I'm met with the crooked grin of my blue-eyed, handsome companion.

"It's beautiful here. Thank you for bringing me out here Johnny." In the past week, Johnny has stayed true to his word--accompanying me on trips I take after sneaking out of my home.

"Aye. Well, it's not the most beautiful sight I've seen."

My brow quirks curiously. "What, then?" Johnny looks back up to the sky for a moment in thought before turning back to face me. His hand reaches out cautiously before resting against the edge of my cheekbone.

"You." He whispers softly. I would roll my eyes at the cheesiness of the statement, if he didn't gaze at me so seriously. We lay in a comfortable silence for a few moments and I notice his eyes flicker down to my lips. I repeat the motion, praying he cannot hear the thumping of my heart against my chest wall.

"Johnny." Our heads lean closer and I hear the grass crunching underneath us.

"Bonnie." He murmurs. My heart begins pounding faster. "Can I kiss you?" His blue eyes flicker back down to my lips. My breath catches in my throat and words begin to fail me, I simply nod. "I need to hear it, dove."

"Please." My voice barely expresses the plea before his lips brush against mine. At first, his lips feel soft and gentle against my own--almost as if he fears I will pull away. My hands finally interpret the signals of my brain and reach out to grasp his shirt tightly to pull him closer. His hand moves slowly down my cheekbone to the back of my neck. Our lips remain interlocked until we have to part for air. Johnny pulls away carefully to rest his forehead against mine as we catch our breath.

We both smile instantaneously and Johnny grabs me by the waist to pull me closer. I laugh in his arms as he squeezes me tightly--kissing my cheek and forehead tenderly. With each kiss, my heart skips a beat. We spend hours in that meadow together, trading kisses until the sun begins to set.

---

Johnny accompanies me home, sending me inside with a kiss and a promise to see one another the next day. I slip past the gates quickly and enter the manor hoping to avoid the Clara's questioning. A cold hand wraps around my wrist just as I close the door and I gasp as I'm turned to face the stern expression of my mother.

"Where have you been?" My mother grips my wrist tighter as she inspects my dirty dress and disheveled appearance. "Your dress is covered in dirt! And you come home at sunset!"

"I-I was--" She cuts me off quickly by raising her hand, shaking her head in disappointment.

"I will not hear any of your excuses. You are late for the ball tonight. How do you expect to earn the King's hand in marriage if you show up late to his events?" With a huff, she gestures to our nearby housemaids and they bring me upstairs to get dressed for the ball. Every sharp pin poking into my head, every tightening of my corset, and every scolding of my mother causes me to press my nails deeper into my palms--crescent moon bruises forming along them as evidence of my frustration. After I have been dressed and I no longer recognize the woman staring back in the mirror, I am ushered quickly by carriage to the ball. My mother mutters to herself the entire ride and I can only hope to pass the time by holding onto my day with Johnny. I try to hold back a grin as I envision all the ways to ruin a possible courtship between me and the King.

---

We reach the palace quickly and my mother drags me quickly inside. "Ah! You have not missed the introduction." She smiles in relief before pushing me in line. I grab the skirts of my dress with a huff as I join the other women. A few minutes later, a booming voice from inside the doors begin to announce me.

"Lady Y/N Dimitrescu. Daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Vivane, Ferdinand and Alcina." I slowly make my way through the doors. My eyes widen as I notice the hundreds of people in attendance staring at me. My eyes flicker around the room and land on the King sitting in his throne watching me carefully. I curtsy as gracefully as I can muster in my tight corset before making my way down to join the others in attendance. I breath a sigh of relief as the focus is no longer on me.

The ball proceeds and I take every step possible to avoid my mother. Just as I think I have succeeded, a familiar cold hand grabs my arm and tugs me over to the King. "You will remember what you have been taught. Make me proud." She whispers threateningly into my ear as I am pushed toward the King.

I manage a another measly curtsy and look up to greet him. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, King Phillip." I almost pinch myself over the sickening tone of my voice. The man in front of me only nods boredly before looking up and down my body. His eyes narrow as he seems to calculate the worth of my features. He seems almost pleased--a sickening grin spreading over his face.

"I like this one." He turns to an advisor before waving me away. I walk away in confusion, my mother nodding as she observes the interaction. I spend the rest of the night in the company of a champagne glass as my mother continues to seek the King's company--likely to gain his favor.

The King claps his hands to draw the crowd to attention. "I have chosen a bride." The people of the room begin to whisper amongst themselves. My eyes flicker over to my mother who holds a smile. I look back over to the King in time to hear my name. "Lady Y/N Dimitrescu!" My stomach drops as hundreds of eyes look my way and the King extends his arms toward me. I do the only rational thing in mind--and run. I push past people carelessly, picking up my dress as I run outside. I ignore the shouts of my mother and the others inside and run to an available horse. I quickly rip my skirt to allow my body to climb atop the mount, kicking the stallion into motion.

"Y/N! Y/N, you would not dare!" My mother screams, her face reddened in anger. I simply kick the horse once more to spur it into a gallop as I ride quickly away from the palace. The only thought in mind is finding Johnny.

---

Bonus points if you recognize the Resident Evil reference lol

-P

#cod x reader #soap x reader #cod fanfic #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish fanfic #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #soap x you

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vinsmokehaveemotions · 1 year

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Vinsmoke children Part 1

These 2 articles will be about the Vinsmoke, mostly as 8 years old children. The first part will focus on the dynamic of the brothers. The part 2 will be more focused on their dynamic with their father. But both dynamics are connected.

I want to start with something that might sound unexpected. Ichiji is obviously the most affected by Sanji being a 'failure' , I will tell you why.

This event might look like just another bullying scene, but it's deeper than that. Ichiji is insulted to be hit bit Sanji since he consider him 'inferior' , but he also seem to be pissed off at how weak Sanji's hit was. The brutality Ichiji hit Sanji with is speaking for itself, you can feel this is an emotional beating. Ichiji rarely act, he usually just watch and supervise the bullying. However, Sanji's hit seem to have triggered something very deep within Ichiji: Disappointment and incomprehension.

You clearly see that Ichiji doesn't understand why is Sanji is different from them, I doubt Judge explained the reasons to the 3 brothers. I also doubt that they know much about their mother. Not knowing the reasons seem to be what make Ichiji so angry and Judge obviously didn't learn his sons to express their negatives feelings in another way than violence. He also seem secretly disappointed, as if he would have liked it that Sanji was like them. Of course this is not a valid reason to beat Sanji, there is never a valid reason, but this time it has a purpose in understanding Ichiji's character.

I also want to point out a plothole. We have no idea what the relation between the 4 brothers was before they learned that Sanji was a 'failure' my guess is that the 4 of them were initially close because they had no reason to naturally reject Sanji. As they grew up the differences began to be more and more apparent and when Sanji was labeled a failure, their relations worsened even more. It's like Ichiji hasn't be able to grief his brother Sanji, he doesn't accept that he is different and he doesn't understand. It's hurting him believe me or not. A bond of twins is strong it cannot be shattered that easily. If Judge had accepted from the beginning Sanji's differences I doubt this bullying would have happened. (or at least a lot less) After all, their brutal personalities are flued by the desire to be loved by their father.

You might think 'wow this girl is taking this way too far' No. I don't think I am, i'v studied in psychology and I know how to observe family dynamics even if it's a fictional familly . This is my interpretation of Oda's subtils intentions. I actually enjoy this a lot, the Vinsmoke are such a interesting familly. No one can investigate more deeply than a curious fangirl trust me on this.

Also, Ichiji is the dominant twin of the quadruplets, he is also the leader and he take pride in it. Niji and Yonji seem to consent to this and they respect Ichiji. Judge is also encouraging Ichiji in this way , he has high expectations because he believe he will be the future king of Germa. Ichiji take his role seriously, even at 8 years old he know he has to prepare for the moment he will take the throne. It's one of the reasons he absorb everything Judge teach him like a sponge and it's one of the factor that explain why Ichiji is so arrogant. As the leader and dominant twin, Ichiji is intelligent, he know he has influence on his younger brothers. He use his influence to keep Judge's beliefs in his brothers head. Ichiji seem to be the one that seek the most validation from his father. The brainwashing is strong.

Niji's reaction can be interpreted in différents way. It could be that he is simply curious about what happened to Sanji, but does not care if he is dead or alive. Or it could be a shade of a worry for Sanji's fate. Either the reason, Ichiji did not like this, he quickly remind Niji that 'who really cares about him anyway'? This same manipulation was used in this scene:

Once again, Yonji and Niji are curious about Sanji, and Ichiji once again bash Sanji to suppress any possible positive feeling toward Sanji , he doesn't take any chance. I feel this manipulation on Ichiji's part is to hide his own care for his brother Sanji. Ichiji is the model of his youngers brothers, he has the pressure to keep the balance. Ichiji is especially verbally cruel to Sanji because It appear the lost of their brother unconsciously affect him the most. Of course, these feeling are deeeeep within the brothers they are not even aware of it themselves but they know these thoughts are forbidden by their father.

The 3 of them can't hide a smile of satisfaction when they hear Sanji calling himself 'Vinsmoke Sanji'. I'm not sure if they are aware of it. It could either be hope for them to be close again somehow, or they could smile because of the excitement of beating him up at will like they used to. Or both.

Shortly after , no matter what was his reasons for smiling, the joy was temporary. Ichiji silent face speak more than it look. It's like his bubble has burst, he saw through Sanji's fake speech and he is somehow disappointed.

This is only the beginning...I will cover various more situations in the future articles. The relation between the 4 brothers is a really complicated one especially because of their father Judge. Their education is messed up.

Remember, my articles are about my analysis and my intrepretation of the story, they are not facts.

Stay tuned for part 2!

Credit for the pictures : https://ww9.readonepiece.com/

#vinsmoke siblings #vinsmoke family #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke yonji #one piece #nothing is black or white #education has a major role #vinsmoke have emotions mostly bad ones but still emotions

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sunset-peril · 16 days

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Guilty as Ganon - Epilogue

“Father?” Zelda clutched her belly, newly freed from its corset. “Why did you make Link and I out to be that way?”

Her father sighed, and could not look her in the eye. He hadn't wished to follow procedure on the matter, but he also desired his daughter's wellbeing and safety. “You know there is protocol for such matters. Something like this cannot be swept under a rug.”

“You referred to Link and I as prostitutes! As if we'd shamed the very kingdom.”

“I had little choice. The law dictates that should a royal woman become pregnant without explanation, her and any males who were with her unaccompanied must stand trial. If you had taken your entire guard to the Spring of Power, I would have charged all of them in addition to Link.”

“I gave you an explanation. The Goddess demanded it done of us right there.”

“And if you had come forward with that information immediately upon returning to the Castle, we could have avoided this.” The King sighed, finally looking in his daughter's direction. “When I saw you like that, and then for you to act so defensive and secretive… I feared the worst had befallen you.”

“Father, you know Link.”

“Yes, I know Link. You know Link. But the fact of the matter is, because you would not come forward about it, I could not prove that the Spring of Power underneath the Goddess’ direction was where it happened! I could not prove that it was Link who'd made you with child, and I could not prove an absence of ill intent. You know how the people think of your knight and his people during the spring season. Nothing less than infallible evidence could convince them otherwise.”

She felt his eyes in hers. Her father was right. Her desire to protect Link had only worsened affairs for all of them.

“And you know there's policy we must follow if we wish to wed. I appreciate you wishing to honor your husband, but an elopement is not the correct way to do so. And I am disappointed in Urbosa and the others for working off your fear.”

Tears burned in her eyes. “I was afraid… afraid you'd have Link executed.”

“I almost did have Link executed!” His royal voice boomed through the chamber. “I thought he raped you!”

Zelda couldn't respond. The chamber fell eerily quiet. Then, she broke out into a wailing sob.

Though it was not becoming of a king, and though he'd scolded Link for doing so just days before, Rhoam wrapped his daughter in his arms. “I forgive you, Zelda. And I'm sorry for whatever I did that had you believe you couldn't trust me.”

She felt better. It had been so long since she'd been held like this.

There was no reason to scold her. No reason to be a king now. He hated that they'd been left in this situation, that they'd been stuck at odds for ten long years. There would come a time for duty, later. Now, the doors were closed. Their respective guards outside the door. Just him and his daughter.

“I'm sorry, Father…”

“I've forgiven you, Zelda.” He finally released her, now that she was not trembling so violently. “Please, if someone tries to hurt you, let me know. I'm the king. I may have to be harsh with you when you don't want me to be, but I can make sure that anyone who hurts you never sees an ounce of joy. You understand, Zelda?”

“I understand… Father.”

Rhoam wasn't sure if the expression on her face could qualify as a smile. For this moment, he wasn't going to expect a smile out of her. In trying to be a good Royal Family, in trying to serve all their subjects, the law had forced them to vilify themselves and each other. He'd try harder. He should've tried harder to begin with. That was a mistake. But he looked at her now: fresh tears streaking down her flushed face, her trembling upper body, the curves in her torso that had drilled such cold fear into him but he now smiled upon… He'd brought this upon her the very moment her name was bestowed. He prayed to Hylia that her child would bear any other name. It would not be fair on her to pray for a grandson, he'd brought enough unfairness onto her, but he could pray that whichever Zelda would bring into the world in only two seasons… that they would be free of the chains that bound both him and Zelda. He knew she prayed for the same. Perhaps this was the Goddess’ way of giving them hope. Another way out.

His daughter asked for his hand in standing, he braced her back as well. “So you're not… going to banish Link and our child?”

“Of course not. We will move on from here. When you are ready, I think the kingdom could use a celebration in these dark times.”

She finally smiled. “I'd like that very much, Father.”

“I would too.”

~~~

Hyrule's Final Stand Masterlist

#welcome back to “things I thought I posted but actually didn't”#or at least if I did #I CANNOT find it in my archive to prove I did #fanfiction #booksivewritten #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #hyrule's final stand #zelink #my stuff #the legend of zelda #king rhoam #rhoam bosphoramus hyrule #wolfbred line #tw pregnancy #zelda esmerelda hyrule

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woodsfae · 8 months

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B5 s02e20 The Long, Twilight Struggle Table of Contents • previous episode

Wow, we're almost to the end of another season! It's been a really good one, despite my own rocky start with its beginning. It's been interesting how my perspective has shifted enough along the way that I had change of minds about my change of minds of some characters. In The Gathering I loved Garibaldi, then came to dislike him for his sexism, police brutality, abuse of position, stalking Talia, being a shit about his ex, and general cop-ness, but the writing really brought me around on him! Weirdly, I now believe he can and will be better.

Almost the same for Londo. I didn't really like him at all, came to like him a little, then was to be SO disappointed in him that now I'm just fascinated to see how far his moral depravity and Sunk Cost Fallacy-ing will go.

And on to the episode!

Their CGI planet is really lovely and colorful, and does look quite 3d! And it's Centauri Prime (presumably). Must be a Londo episode!

This guy is petting the throne. wtf Refa. Very blunt about the fetishization of power that's going on here.

Londo: "Lord Refa, I have come a long way, and I am tired. Is there a reason I have been summoned here, now?" Refa: "Indeed there is, I have good news. The war which began six months is about to end. Sooner than any of us could have hoped. And you, Londo Mollari, will be the architect of our victory."

ope, the Centauri are about to do some crazy war crimes, I see!

Finally, a sexy transparent glass silhouette showering scene! I've been waiting for this since the show started. Classy of them to make it be Sheridan.

Friendly Draal Planet!!! I hoped to see him again! How delightful! What a bad omen, though.

Delenn is becoming just…transcendently beautiful. The lighting and camera shots, her expressions and grace, are all just astonishing. I am glad she gets to see her friend again. Maybe some of the other serene characters will pop up for a reunion. I'd love to see the little telepath girl who went to Minbari, Janice the Healer, and Thomas Jinxo the Seeker of the Grail again, and I think they'd all get along well (or at least interestingly) together.

Draal, appearing before Sheridan fresh out of his shower: "I've been watching you for quite some time, Captain. And I thought it was time that I introduce myself. My name, is Draal. How do you do." *Minbari bow* Sheridan, damp and be-robed: "Uh, fine. I'm fine." Draal, who has no idea how to talk to humans: "Good. You don't have any idea who I am, do you?" Sheridan, who did his research on B5 tysvm: "Unless there's another Draal who can do what you just did, you're the Minbari who took custody of the planet we're orbiting." Draal: "Ah, Captain, you do not take custody of the planet, the planet takes custody of you!."

This made me laugh really hard. The planet really did take custody of Draal. Near-total isolation, but youth. idk if I'd go for that.

Details…details…lmao Draal.

The Narn…cannot catch a fucking break. Contact with an entire sector of colonies, lost. They're losing, although their official stance is that they're holding their own. I wish them and their counter attack well! One all-out strike with the majority of their forces is a hardcore strategy! They could lose everything.

G'Sten: "If we make them pay, for every inch of space, we can wear them down, prolonging the war beyond their capacity to fight it. Centauri want a quick victory: they don't have the stomach for prolonging the war."

He also says there will always be enough ships to defend their homeworld, but dang that still feels really risky. I am so excited to see a little of G'Kar's family. His uncle! And he's so kind, warm, and loving. The exact opposite of the way they were described by Delenn and the Centauri in season one. They both call the Narn cold, strange, impossible to empathize with. I hate to see anti Narn propaganda! They have risen highly in my estimation and I am rooting for them so hard.

The Centauri are going to bomb Narn from orbit with banned weapons and wipe out much of the entire population. To "save Centauri lives." War crimes, as I thought.

Everything depends on Londo. It's too late to back out. Bringing the pressure and the logical fallacies down on him! He bends, obviously, and is going to reach out to Morden for help carrying out the sick plan.

Londo: "All right. I will bring my assoociates into this, but this is that last time. We are Centauri. If we are to sieze our destiny, we must do it ourselves. After this, no more." What'shisface" "After this there will be no need! Thank you. Cheer up. By the time you return to Babylon 5 the war will be over, and the Narns will be at our feet. This time, we will keep them there."

Exactly. The Narns will not stop resisting, they will eventually gain their freedom again, and there will be another and another. You can't build an empire without horrifically violating sentients' rights, and those sentients are always going to resist.

Love Delenn's outfit today. I hope Draal won't be an ass about her hair.

Aw, so nice, Londo gets to go watch the Centauri genociding the Narns, live and in HD safe on a warship. How thoughtful. May he choke on the sight.

Dr Franklin is a real and good friend and a great anti-fascist comrade. Gathering deets from his Narn patients to give G'Kar as up-to-date as information as he can, as quick as he can.

Draal Planet light hearted B Plot, yay! And Delenn is now experimenting with swearing She used the f-word even! Frag me, she's so great.

Delenn: "Draal? We're here." Draal: "Did you think I hadn't noticed, my old friend? You've changed. I like it."

I'm glad he's not racist to her! That makes two Minbari who have on-screen supported her: Lennier, and now her old mentor. I'm so glad!

But onto the meat of the visit. Draal has been using the planet's resources to gather information, including Sheridan's history and all the plotting Sheridan's been doing. Convenient, and awesome! Powerful allies are badly needed right now. Draal has been studying the universe and the planet, and he's ready for action! And I"m ready to see that action!

"In the long, twilight struggle which lies ahead of us, there is a possibility of hope."

That's a great message, and good repetition of the same sentiment from earlier with G'Kar and G'Sten. I'm afraid G'Sten is going to die, but I hope he lives. The Narns have faced enough tragedy.

Shadow ships coming for G'Sten and his fleet, the evil shits! The CGI has definitely improved from last season to a degree, although it's extremely obvious with the shadow ships. but I love the effect! They are all cgi and thus fake-looking, which I think enhances how out of sync with the normal dimensional bounds they are. I'd be fucking unnerved if I saw something that fake looking in real life.

goodbye G'Sten. :/

There's people on the Draal Planet! Wow, they must be weird.

LOVE this for Delenn. She's needed friends really badly, too!

Zathras!! Is in league with Draal! Cool!! I didn't think we'd see the Space Werewolf again, but this should be fun! JMS's spreadsheets must have been wild.

Narn is in a BAD position. Centauri have Narn surrounded, there's massive destruction and death, and the Narn fleet has been neutralized. An impromptu re-enactment between Narn and Centauri on B5 is underway. Of course.

Narn looks mostly brown and orange from orbit. I wonder what it looked like before the Centauri ever arrived. Bombs underway, Londo watching on while looking sick. Hope he feels even sicker than he looks!

Ineffective response from Minbari and Earth, of course. An atrocity! They condemn it! Really hard! Finger wag! Don't do it again!

G'Kar. What a horrible horrible place to be. Narn plans to surrender. I hope they can snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, but knowing this show, it will be even more grim for them and the universe by the end of the episode. Horrific.

G'Kar is reduced to asking Sheridan for political asylum. If they hand him over to the Centauri…! fuck! That's the kind of dystopian universe this is, too. I hope that won't happen, though.

Ugh. A speech by Londo. What an awful piece of propaganda.

Londo: "A little over five standard hours ago, the conflict which began with the Narn declaration of war, came to and end. The Narn regime has offered complete and unconditional surrender. The terms imposed by the Centauri Republic are as follows. One: the ruling body known as the Kha'ri will be disbanded, and its members subject will be subject to arrest and trial for the commission of war crimes against the Centauri." Sheridan: "Earth requests the right to send observers to these hearings." Londo: "That request is denied. Two: to prevent further acts of terror by the Narn against our people, the penalty for the murder of any Centauri by any Narn will be the execution of five hundred Narns. Including the Perpetrator's own family. Three: a provisional ruling council appointed by my government will take up the responsibility of re-building a more civilized Narn government, as a colony of the great Centauri Republic." Sheridan: "Is there anything else." Londo: "Yes. Just, one thing. Because the Narn homeworld is now a protectorate of the Centauri Republic, we reserve the right to determine who can speak for Narn. As a result, Ambassador G'Kar may no longer represent the Narn in any official capacity whatsoever. His appointment ambassador to Babylon 5 is hereby withdrawn. And as the only member of the Kha'ri still at large, Citizen G'Kar will return to Narn for trial."

"No," quoth Sheridan. Minbari supports Earth and Babylon 5 in this, although Delenn does call him Citizen G'Kar like Londo did. Fuck him, man. He's fully a bootlicker channeling his frustration at his guilt over all the war crimes against the non-Centauri. My least favorite fictional war criminal.

The framing and character work through this scene is WILD. G'Kar, sitting, slumped, not meeting anyone's eyes. Londo, speaking with clear enunciation, racist and imperialist language framed as the ethical, sensible decisions the Narn have forced them to make. G'Kar rising and speaking calmly before leaving when Londo loses his temper and demands, screaming, that G'Kar leave the council room.

G'Kar: "No dictator, no invader can hold an imprisoned population by force of arms forever. There is no greater power in the universe than the need for freedom. Against that power, governments and tyrants and armies cannot stand. The Centauri learned this lesson once. We will teach it to them again. Though it take a thousand years…we will be free."

The Narn will not go quietly.

Centauri is celebrating, they are dancing in the streets on homeworld. Or so the propaganda news broadcast goes.

Sheridan has a very nice speech for G'Kar and offer of support of all his personal assets that can be put towards that aim.

G'Kar: "The last time I took someone's hand we were at war twenty-four hours later." *takes Sheridan's offered hand anyway*

Mad lad.

And now Sheridan's off to a super-secret meeting! Delenn presiding. She has gathered him allies to pledge to Sheridan. Ah, Sinclair's project! <3 Sinclair, good work, buddy. Kosh is there, too! Somehow I doubt he is there to swear TO Sheridan. Along with, benevolently, to help the ants win against the anteater, maybe.

This is an episode of speeches! G'Kar's was terrible and great. Sheridan's falls a little flat. His line has been drawn on the other side of a fascist empire re-enslaving an entire people.

Well. I can only hope for some great and wild successes on the other side of the season finale!

The balance of affection between G'Kar and G'Sten, and Delenn's joyful reunification with Draal and the hope that and Sinclair's rangers inspired were all a much-needed balance against the Narns' current plight, but this was still so heavy and dark. It went there, it did that! Man, the forces of the Light are just fucking crippled without the Narn and their previous resources. All destroyed, and mostly dead, to feed the appetite of the Centauri Empire.

next!

#babylon 5 #G'Kar #many many war crimes #woodsfae b5

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