#and I was like excellent! i feel no longer human so let’s do this :)
Note
Hear me out.... Steven with a praise kink 👀
You jokingly call him a good boy (because I call him my human golden retriever) and BAM. Confused boner! You take advantage of it and keep teasing him.
(Marc and Jake would never let him live it down, either)
Ijcioajfidi HELP. THIS. AHHH. I’m not sure why chess playing came into my brain. But here we are, reader likes and plays chess and is pretty good at it.
(Side note: in one typo I wrote ‘chestboard’ instead of ‘chessboard’. You just know my subconscious is thinking about Steven’s boobs.)
Good Boy
Steven Grant x F!Reader Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist | ao3 | want to be tagged?
Warnings: INSTANT BONER, p in v sex, teasing, swearing, typos, rail road sentences, please let me know if I’ve missed a warning!
Word Count: 2147
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“So, think about how you would stop me.” You said as you looked from the chessboard to Steven.
His brow was furrowed in concentration, his glasses pushed high on his nose. A few rough curls dangled over his forehead as he bit softly at his thumb in thought.
“I could move here?”
“That’s really good.” You smile. “Excellent move, because you’ve also stopped my bishop.” You point to the piece on the board.
Steven smiled. He liked chess, played against the computer occasionally. But it wasn’t much more than a way to pass the time.
However when he found out that you had won some amateur competitions when you were in school, and that you still played regularly, his excitement at the prospect of playing a game with you was so completely heart-warming that you instantly said yes.
In the first game, you’d been determined to go easy on him. Just to get a feel of Steven as a player. You’d accidentally won in less than ten minutes.
There had been a small tinge of panic, a worry that, like some of the previous partners you’d had, he would be annoyed. Instead Steven grinned, thrilled that you’d beaten him and sung your praises until you were so positively overwhelmed you had had to kiss him repeatedly to get him to stop.
This was your second game. He had asked in that delightfully enthusiastic way he had if you could play again, “if it’s not too much trouble love, and you want to of course, don’t want to be annoying, do I? No. But I’d love it if you could teach me some strategies?”
“So I’m going to move here,” you picked up your knight and moved it slowly.
Steven frowned. “But then I can take it?”
“I know.” You grinned.
He paused and looked at you, unable to stop himself from smiling at your glee and then nodded. “Okie dokie, there’s something I’m not seeing then.”
“Is there?” Your innocent tone didn’t fool him for a second.
“There definitely is.”
You chuckled, looking back to the board. “Good boy. Look, take your time, but don’t worry if you can’t find it, I’ll explain.”
There was a long pause. You frowned a little and glanced back to him. His eyes were a little wide, his cheeks dusted with pink. He was sitting stiffly now, his hand clenched into a fist with his knuckles pressed against his mouth.
“Steven?”
“Hmm.” The sound was too quick. He didn’t look up from the board.
“You okay?”
He nodded, a short sharp and very un-Steven-like movement.
You paused for a second, looking at his features carefully as you wondered if Marc or Jake had fronted suddenly. Though, why they would try to hide it from you, you weren’t sure.
On further inspection you were pretty sure that it was Steven.
“You sure you’re okay.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He mumbled and swallowed, looking through the board and not seeing it.
“Okay…” You swallowed, watched him for a moment longer before you pointed at your rook. “If you take my knight, I’m going to take your pawn with my rook and you’ll be in check. You can’t take the rook with your queen because then you’d be in check here. So you’d have to move your king like this, and then I could move my other bishop and you’d be in checkmate.”
You looked up at him, chewing your bottom lip. Had he had enough? Was he bored? Fed up of your explanations?
“Okay. Right. So I won’t do that, I’ll move here.” He spoke quickly, still not looking at you.
You nodded, watching his move. “Good, so…”
The moment ‘good’ left your mouth Steven sucked in a breath, shuddering.
A sound you very much recognised.
Oh.
You quickly thought over your previous conversion: move this piece, are you okay, take your time, good boy-
Good boy. That was it.
A small smile stretched across your lips. Steven was still staring, fixated, at the chessboard and didn’t notice. He moved his piece silently.
You waited a beat before you spoke. “That’s a great move Steven, good boy.”
He shivered straight away, his breathing hitched. He tried to cover the sound with his hand as he closed his eyes.
“What’s wrong Steven?” You teased slowly.
His eyes snapped up to yours, wide and embarrassed.
“Don’t you like being called a good boy?”
The smallest groan grumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing.
“Or, is it that you like it a little too much? Hmm? Being my good boy?”
His skin flushed with heat as he glared at you. His eyes dark.
“What?” You bit your lip as you grinned. “A good boy would answer questions when asked.”
“Please.” He whispered.
“Please what?”
“Please stop. Marc’s taking the piss.”
You frowned, the playful tease dropping from your tone. “Why’s Marc taking the piss?” You’d done kinker stuff with all of them, Steven liking being called a ‘good boy’ wasn’t really something to write home about.
Steven sighed, pouting a little as he closed his eyes and took his hand away from his mouth. “Because I’ve got a hard on.”
You bit back the giggle that wanted to spill from your chest. Something about him having to close his eyes to say it was just so perfect. “So?”
“It happened the second you said it.”
“The very second?”
“Hmm.” Steven kept his eyes closed. Interesting.
“So literally, I said it, instant boner.”
“Yep.”
You couldn’t resist one playful tease. “So, if you’re in a park and you hear some say good boy to their dog, is it bam, erection?”
Steven shifted a little as you said those two words, trying his hardest not to moan. His cock was pressing, painfully hard, against the stiff material of his jeans. “No.”
“No?”
“It’s never happened before. And now- Marc, shut the fuck up.” His voice was a little needy until it came time to address his alter.
“Marc behave.” You said kindly. “So… it’s only ever happened now?”
“Hmm.”
“When I said it?”
“Yeah.”
“What happens when I say it again?” You whispered.
Steven squirmed a little, even the thought of you saying it getting him hot under the collar. “Feels… nice. Sort of.” He pushed at his throbbing cock with the heel of his hand and opened his eyes, his head slightly drooped.
“Sort of?”
“Yeah, like… you know, he jumps to attention every time you say it.” He blinked heavily, his cheeks burning. God, you must think he was a right little freak.
“Good boy.”
He groaned, unable to stop the sound in time and looked up at you. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t nice that you were making fun of him like Marc and… oh.
Realisation dawned. You were biting your lip and smiling. You liked it. A lot.
Steven swallowed audibly.
Slowly you stood and walked around the table to stand beside him. Steven pushed out his chair a little, angling it so that he was facing you. He went to stand but you gently pressed on his shoulder. He followed your command and stayed sitting down, looking up at you with pleading eyes.
He played at his jumper sleeve nervously as you watched him. His dick hard and pulsating with need, throbbing in time to his heartbeat.
He swallowed again. “Love-”
“Good boy.”
He moaned softly, screwing his face up as his cock twitched at your words.
You bent down quickly, grabbing hold of his cheeks and kissing him deeply. Using his brief surprise to slip your tongue into his mouth and push him back against the chair.
Steven whimpered against you, his hands coming up to hold your shoulders and the back of your neck as you ravaged his mouth and robbed him of his breath.
“Good boy.” You muttered between the kisses, swallowing his hushed whimpers and soft moans. Revelling in the way he pulled you tighter, needy and desperate for anything you’d give him.
You brushed your hand against his groin, squeezing the outline of his cock.
“Fuck!” Steven hissed, clawing at your top and thrusting up into your touch. The rest of his words were lost as you kissed him hard and lightly bit his bottom lip.
You trailed your lips down to his jaw and neck, sucking at his pulse point and pushing him even further back into the seat.
His breathy moans sent a wave of heat along your spine to your core, twisted in your belly and overwhelmed every thought.
You squeezed his cock again, the heat of him radiating through your hand. “Good boy.”
The words barely left your lip before Steven answered you with an accompanying groan, his length twitching against your palm.
You moaned, so dizzily high with the sounds of his pleasure. Without thinking you undo his belt and unzip his jeans, pulling his trousers and boxers down to his calves in a hurried motion with a little help from Steven as he raises his hips. His cock springs free, needy and weeping with need.
You take him in hand, stroking him twice before pulling his jumper over his head. He whines at the loss, chasing your mouth and kissing you urgently the second the material is off and on the floor.
With your lips desperately pressed to his you pull down your own trousers and underwear, kicking one leg free and not bothering about the other as you take his length back in your hand and straddle his thighs.
Him being so worked up, so desperate for you when you hadn’t even touched him is a stronger aphrodisiac that anything you’d ever experienced.
You don’t even give him a second to react before you’re lining him up with your already soaking entrance and slowly sinking down. “Such a good boy Steven,” you breathe, your voice rising in pitch at the end as he inches deeper, his thick cock splitting you so wide.
He moans headily, pressing his face into your chest and mouthing at the tops of your breast through your top.
“Love, you’re so wet.” He bites his bottom hip, his fingers pressing against your waist hard enough to leave bruises.
You pull at the back of his hair slightly, scratching your nails along his scalp as he finally bottoms out. He pulses within you, twitching and aching and so, so close already.
“You’re my good boy, aren’t you Steven?”
He whined against you as you rocked your hips, quickly starting to lift yourself up and sink back down, setting a brutal pace as you began to bounce on his cock.
“Such a good boy letting me use you like this.”
Steven moaned, chasing your hips and thrusting deep. He was drunk on you, needed you. Every moment, every word you said sent waves of pleasure through his body and made his head spin.
Even in his intoxicated state his muscle memory kicked in, bucking up into you perfectly to make you see stars. Each spot that would break you apart memorised and stored deep within his very soul.
He fucked up into you harder, growling with his desperate need. His leg kicked out and caught against the table's edge, rocking the chessboard and knocking pieces over.
The sound just loud enough to register in his mind. “Sorry, I-“
“Doesn’t matter Steven, please,” you moaned. At this angle the head of him constantly pressed so deep, rubbing consistently over that special spot and not even giving you a chance to breathe. No pause or reprieve from the oncoming onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake you.
“Gonna cum, gonna cum,” you whined, your thighs shaking and thrusts growing sloppy.
Steven growled, grabbing hold of your hips and pistoning upwards, not allowing your pleasure to dip. “Please, please, please, cum on my cock, please love, please. Tell me I’m your-”
“You’re my good boy.” You came dizzyingly hard, your fingers digging into Steven’s shoulders and leaving marks.
But he didn’t care. Couldn't care as you squeezed and fluttered around him, moaning ‘good boy’, and shaking as you fell apart in ecstasy.
Steven gasped, the air catching in his throat, the pleasure so potent it was like his heart stopped. He came deep, hot and thick, his hips still thrusting to prolong your high and to fuck his spend deeper into you.
You held each other tightly as you recovered, breathing hard, sweat sticking to your skin. It was only then that you pulled off your top and bra, discarding them on the floor with the rest of your clothing.
Steven nuzzled into you, softly kissing along your collarbone as you stroked his hair.
He chuckled suddenly and you moved back every so slightly to look him in the eyes.
“What?”
He grinned, dreamy and love sick, up at you. “Marc’s changed his mind. He’d quite like you to call him ‘good boy’ too.”
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Thank you for reading!
@pleasurebuttonwrites @raven-rk @campingwiththecharmings @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @cocodiem @oscarisaacsspit @whatthefishh @mbakubabe @solobagginses @romanarose @pimosworld @jake-g-lockley @saturn-rings-writes @boredzillenial @lonelyisamyw-0love
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#steven grant#moon knight#moon knight mcu#steven grant x reader#x reader#steven grant x you#x you#steven grant x female reader#x female reader#steven grant x f!reader#x f!reader#steven grant x fem!reader#x fem!reader#my writing#fanfic#oscar isaac#oscar isaac characters
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Loving Eddie (Grim Reaper!Eddie x Reader)
Pairings/Relationships: Reaper!Eddie Munson/Reader
Warnings/Themes: Implied Character Death, Animal Death, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Note: I was in a mood tonight and had the sad playlist going as I read Loving Reaper so I wrote a little thing inspired by it. Definitely gonna shoot some recognition to @fairyysoup for forging the path with Death and the Maiden and @vintagehellfire who is an excellent writer regardless and has mentioned a future Reaper!Eddie story. And of course @chestylarouxx who wrote the softest puppy story and @somnambulic-thing for their edit.
I guess this is a little love letter to all of you guys. And just...a soothing little thing for me.
I know this isn't the point but...I'll be making a donation to Chicago Animal Care & Control for some fun little treats so the little babies know how loved they are before they find their forever homes.
You can find my masterlist here.
Please do not interact if you are not 18+.
Enjoy!
---
Life and Death have been in love for longer than we've had words to describe...
Eddie knew what it was like to be alone in the world, with no one to love and no place to turn to.
It wasn't that long ago that he was left to wander, to pass unseen, unable to meet a soul that cared to know who or what he was.
First his body had been left in the Upside Down to rot, and then his spirit was left to wander the Earth to do the same.
It jaded him.
Turned him off people, who saw his disheveled spectral form but thought nothing of him. Not to stop or even give him a second glance.
But animals?
Animals flocked to him.
That was where he rediscovered his place in this endless mortal coil.
He'd always considered himself an animal lover, feeding the stray cats and the raccoons that wandered around Forest Hills. Giving extra pets to Mr. Ford's dog that got left outside a little too often.
Even in Death, the birds ruffled their feathers and sung a little louder for him. A butterfly had no fear to land on his fingers and kiss them with their wings as they became bony and unfamiliar.
And the first time he came across a poor little soul that had been left, tethered to a stake, on the side of the road...he knew what his path would be.
He sad beside them and ran his hand overhear head, giving it companionship for the last time...
Maybe I was a bad dog?
No, you just loved bad people. You were a good boy.
...and when it was time to get up, they followed him for as long as they could, until they disappeared into starlight, feeling love for one last time.
It happened again and again.
Cats and birds and fish.
And he didn't know where they went when they crossed into starlight, but he took comfort that he was the one to ferry them there.
To show them the softness in death that they lacked in life.
One day...it wasn't an animal that earned his softness.
It was a human.
It was you.
He was softly petting a rabbit who had dreamed of a lush field of greens, and had only known a cage, promising them flowers and the blue skies and an endless spring when you'd shown up.
Determined.
Your hand went through his as you scooped the little creature up.
"I'm sorry Bunny," you whispered gentle. "Lets get you someplace nice."
He watched your retreating form resentfully. Not because you'd taken his charge away...but because you must have been just like the others. His natural resentment for everything human now.
He followed, of course, and watched as you nursed Bunny back to health. As you called around to friends and family to see who could take them. As you told your neighbor off for buying a rabbit on Easter in the first place if they had no intention of caring for it.
"Susie told me you'd brought it out to the woods. Bunny was dying. What did you even feed it?"
His anger dissipated, just the slightest bit. But he still distrusted you.
No matter. Bunny survived, and had the endless spring they deserved.
And Eddie could forget you.
But he couldn't. Because you showed up again and again, in his path. Stole his purpose from him.
Why he hung around, he wasn't entirely sure.
It's not like he needed to validate your sincerity. You'd stopped your car for enough ducks and bottle fed enough chipmunks for him to know that his little buddies were safe with you.
He could have moved on, soothed the abandoned souls and led them to starlight elsewhere.
He simply felt tethered to you.
Life sends countless gifts to Death...
You had even seen him one day.
You'd stumbled coming down the some steps as you shopped around town, a sudden and unexpected imbalance, and he grabbed you on instinct.
Eddie expected...well he didn't know what he expected. But it wasn't your hand coming to grip his. It wasn't your soft, relieved breath filling his hollow cheeks with life again. It wasn't the sparkle of your eyes meeting his as you thanked him.
"God I don't know what's wrong with me," you laughed. "Sorry...sorry. I didn't mean to just fall on you like that."
"It's alright," he replied with a voice gone raspy from lack of use. "People fall for me all the time."
The smoothness of his response was unexpected too.
You talked for a few minutes.
You always came this way; did he? Was he new in Hawkins? Did he try that coffee place on Main? Anyway, it was nice to meet him. You'd see him around.
He was dumbfounded.
Because you saw him.
You talked to him, touched him.
Showed him the humanity that he'd been lacking--secretly yearning for deep down--for decades. The kind that he had begun to believe didn't exist anymore.
And as you walked away, and as everyone ignored him, he decided he didn't want anything to do with it.
The time had come and gone. Eddie Munson had come and gone. The starlight, the softness, was his new purpose now.
Death was his new name.
He did his best to avoid you, but when had what he wanted ever come to fruition. The more he tried not to see you, the more you saw him.
A bird had fallen from the nest in your neighbor's yard, and you saw him as he carried their soul away, wings too small to fly yet.
You waved hello to him as you hobbled up the sidewalk, after you'd sprained something on your lunchtime walk.
He told another little friend at the animal shelter that their suffering was over, that the hands and feet that never stopped for them were silly and stupid. He would take them to the park for one last game of fetch.
And you were there for a work picnic, the sight of him being the only thing that had put any light in your eyes all day, tired and sunken as they were.
You'd really put your all into planning the picnic, you told him.
He couldn't care one bit.
All he saw was someone who tried too much, gave too much--to people and things--and he simply...despised it. Because those little things you did to give, also took.
They took from him.
He tried one last time to escape you.
Went to the beach.
Walked long and fast and far on untiring feet until his skeletal toes that had long-since ripped through the caps of his sneakers touched the lapping waves of Lake Michigan.
It was a wasteland, and exactly where he belonged. Exactly where he could give some softness. He was right where he needed to be.
The gulls looked for food and only found trash.
Choked on cigarette butts and straw wrappers.
He could sooth them, nourish them, lead them to oblivion.
When he was 12...his uncle had taken him to the beach and he'd witnessed two of the dastardly birds fighting over a piece of fried chicken.
He wished he could see that now.
And not you, sitting on a blanket reading, bundled up in a pullover and sweatpants that dwarfed you.
Funny he could have sworn he'd seen you in those during one of your first encounters. They fit fine then.
It wasn't a particularly cold day...but cold enough where there weren't that many people on the beach so it was easy for you to spot one another.
"Oh hey stranger," you called out to him with a weak wave. "How is it that we keep running into each other? Even 3 hours away at the lake?"
He couldn't help but approach you, maybe save you some embarrassment from the few other stragglers noticing you were talking to yourself on an empty beach.
"Must be fate," he commented bitterly.
"Hmm," you shrugged and looked back at your book.
Eddie sad beside you, uncaring if he was on the sand or not. He couldn't feel the grains between his bones. There was no discomfort anymore.
He considered that for a moment, his appearance. He was sure he was just...a skeleton in some ratty clothes now. But you never batted an eye at him.
Why did he care?
Curiosity. That was all.
"You never seem shocked to see me," he commented after a beat.
"Why should I be?" you asked. "We live in the same town right? This...I mean I wasn't expecting you to be here."
"No, I mean...how I look," he clarified.
"You're like...a metalhead right?" you asked and placed your book down. You hugged your knees to your chest and then reached out to poke a patch on his vest that, to him, was just a tangle of threads now. "Just a little dated. Ok, ok...a classic...forgive me. Metallica is a classic."
"Of course it's a classic. It's Metallica," he scoffed and rolled his eyes. You smiled at him serenely and he felt his ribcage bloat with something.
Joy. Fondness? Maybe you weren't that bad.
He'd just hardened his heart for so long.
"Where'd you even find that? Do you go to the Five Star Flea Market on Highway 69?"
"Never been."
"Garage sales then? I just had..." you yawned. "I just had a garage sale last weekend. Got rid of a lot of junk. I don't need it."
"One persons trash is another's treasure." His uncle always said that when they brought some chipped old mug home.
Where were those mugs now? He wondered.
He told you about them, told you about the Garfield one he got for Wayne for Father's Day one time.
"He hated it but refused to drink coffee from anything else," he told you proudly.
"I have these Campbells soup mugs," you contemplated. "You can have them if you want. One for you, one for your uncle."
"Oh uh..." How could he tell you that both he and Wayne were dead? He couldn't. "That's ok."
"I don't think you like me that much, Eddie," you announced after some time.
You'd wheedled his name out of him at some point.
The shame burned, replaced the fondness he'd realized was there.
"Why do you say that?"
"Just a feeling."
"I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't like you," he said confidently, truthfully. He allowed himself to be soft with you, for the first time, tone so different from what I had been before.
"We friends then?" you asked.
"Yeah...friends."
You both smiled, renewed by the agreement.
You were funny and kind and you got his humor and even recognized his favorite band. 30 years after the fact.
Metallica was a classic though. He'd wouldn't have offered his friendship if you didn't know them.
But yeah, you could be friends, maybe more if you had the time and the means...if you were gonna keep showing up in his life.
In his Death.
Eddie pushed himself to his feet and then held his hand out to you.
You didn't hesitate to grab it.
You felt a lot lighter as he pulled you up, floating almost.
And the two of you started walking, walking, walking...until the night came...until the darkness came.
The starlight.
And for the first time, Eddie didn't have to lose the softness of a new friend to the starlight. You were able to stay for him for a long time, hand entwined with his.
Into eternity.
...And death keeps them forever.
#Eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson blurb#stranger things blurb#grim reaper!Eddie munson
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Star Wars Writing Resources
Note: None of the resources below are mine. I just assembled them in one place for your and my convenience. Feel free to use and reblog. If you know of any other useful site missing from the list, let me know and I'll gladly add it.
NOTE (05/17/23): There's a new, much more comprehensive version HERE.
Places
Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg
Map of the Galaxy
List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]
Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]
Planetary System Generator [Donjon]
Character Development
Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]
Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood
Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]
Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]
The character creator
Droid Name Generator
Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr
Clone Trooper face/helmet template pack by @fox-trot
Clone Picrew by @batdad
Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli
Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]
Miscellaneous
Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]
Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]
Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]
Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)
Materials (fabrics, leathers, silks, plastics, construction, metal composites, etc.)
List of TCW Opening Quotes
Ship Generator 3D
Star Wars: The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts by @cacodaemonia
Languages; Phrases and Slang; Vocabulary
Coruscant Translator (from/to Basic from/to Old Corellian, Proto-Basic, and Smuggler's Cant; Catharese and High Cathar; Cheunh and Minnisiat; Echani and Thyrsian; Mirialan; Flora Colossi, Ortolan, and -everyone's favorite- Mando'a)
In-Universe phrases and slang [Google sheet]
List of phrases and slang [wookiepedia]
List of equivalents to real-world objects [wookiepidia]
Star Wars Menu Generator
Helpful blogs
The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters.
@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.
@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.
@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.
@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.
Writing in General (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)
SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).
ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, it gives +20 different in-depth reports for only the first 500 words for free. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit.
LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence, even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.
Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.
#star wars writing resources#star wars#the mandalorian#the bad batch#sw rebels#the clone wars#obi wan kenobi#obi wan kenobi show#tbobf#the book of boba fett#andor
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Frev Friendships — Saint-Just and Robespierre
You who supports the tottering fatherland against the torrent of despotism and intrigue, you whom I only know, like God, through his miracles; I speak to you, monsieur, to ask you to unite with me in order to save my sad fatherland. The city of Gouci has relocated (this rumour goes around here) the free markets from the town of Blérancourt. Why do the cities devour the privileges of the countryside? Will there remain no more of them to the latter than size and taxes? Support, please, with all your talent, an address that I make for the same letter, in which I request the reunion of my heritage with the national areas of the canton, so that one lets to my country a privilege without which it has to die of hunger. I do not know you, but you are a great man. You are not only the deputy of a province, you are one of humanity and of the Republic. Please, make it that my request be not despised. I have the honour to be, monsieur, your most humble, most obedient servant.
Saint-Just, constituent of the department of Aisne.
To Monsieur de Robespierre in the National Assembly in Paris.
Blérancourt, near Noyon, August 19, 1790.
Saint-Just’s first letter ever written to Robespierre, dated August 19 1790
Citizens, you are aware that, to dispel the errors with which Roland has covered the entire Republic, the Society has decided that it will have Robespierre's speech printed and distributed. We viewed it as an eternal lesson for the French people, as a sure way of unmasking the Brissotin faction and of opening the eyes of the French to the virtues too long unknown of the minority that sits with the Mountain. I remind you that a subscription office is open at the secretariat. It is enough for me to point it out to you to excite your patriotic zeal, and, by imitating the patriots who each deposited fifty écus to have Robespierre's excellent speech printed, you will have done well for the fatherland.
Saint-Just at the Jacobins, January 1 1793
Patriots with more or less talent […] Jacquier, Saint-Just’s brother-in-law.
Robespierre in a private list, written sometime during his time on the Committee of Public Safety
Saint-Just doesn’t have time to write to you. He gives you his compliments.
Lebas in a letter to Robespierre October 25 1793
Trust no longer has a price when we share it with corrupt men, then we do our duty out of love for our fatherland alone, and this feeling is purer. I embrace you, my friend.
Saint-Just.
To Robespierre the older.
Saint-Just in a post-scriptum note added to a letter written by Lebas to Robespierre, November 5 1793. Saint-Just uses tutoiement with Robespierre here, while Lebas used vouvoiement.
We have made too many laws and too few examples: you punish but the salient crimes, the hypocritical crimes go unpunished. Punish a slight abuse in each part, it is the way to frighten the wicked, and to make them see that the government has its eye on everything. No sooner do we turn our backs than the aristocracy rises in the tone of the day, and commits evils under the colors of liberty.
Engage the committee to give much pomp to the punishment of all faults in government. Before a month has passed you will have illuminated this maze in which counter-revolution and revolution march haphazardly. Call, my friend, the attention of the Jacobin Club to the strong maxims of the public good; let it concern itself with the great means of governing a free state. I invite you to take measures to find out if all the manufactures and factories of France are in activity, and to favor them, because our troops would within a year find themselves without clothes; manufacturers are not patriots, they do not want to work, they must be forced to do so, and not let down any useful establishment. We will do our best here. I embrace you and our mutual friends.
Saint-Just
To Robespierre the older.
Saint-Just in a letter to Robespierre, December 14 1793
Paris, 9 nivôse, year 2 of the Republic.
Friends.
I feared, in the midst of our successes, and on the eve of a decisive victory, the disastrous consequences of a misunderstanding or of a ridiculous intrigue. Your principles and your virtues reassured me. I have supported them as much as I could. The letter that the Committee of Public Safety sent you at the same time as mine will tell you the rest. I embrace you with all my soul.
Robespierre.
Robespierre in a letter to Saint-Just and Lebas, December 29 1793
Why should I not say that this (the dantonist purge) was a meditated assassination, prepared for a long time, when two days after this session where the crime was taking place, the representative Vadier told me that Saint-Just, through his stubbornness, had almost caused the downfall of the members of the two committees, because he had wanted that the accused to be present when he read the report at the National Convention; and such was his obstinacy that, seeing our formal opposition, he threw his hat into the fire in rage, and left us there. Robespierre was also of this opinion; he believed that by having these deputies arrested beforehand, this approach would sooner or later be reprehensible; but, as fear was an irresistible argument with him, I used this weapon to fight him: You can take the chance of being guillotined, if that is what you want; For my part, I want to avoid this danger by having them arrested immediately, because we must not have any illusions about the course we must take; everything is reduced to these bits: If we do not have them guillotined, we will be that ourselves.
À Maximilien Robespierre aux enfers (1794) by Taschereau de Fargues and Paul-Auguste-Jacques. Robespierre and Saint-Just had also worked out the dantonists’ indictment together.
…As far from the insensibility of your Saint-Just as from his base jealousies, [Camille] recoiled in front if the idea of accusing a college comrade, a companion in arms. […] Robespierre, can you really complete the fatal projects which the vile souls that surround you no doubt have inspired you to? […] Had I been Saint-Just’s wife I would tell him this: the sake of Camille is yours, it’s the sake of all the friends of Robespierre!
Lucile Desmoulins in an unsent letter to Robespierre, written somewhere between March 31 and April 4 1794. Lucile seems to have believed it was Saint-Just’s ”bad influence” in particular that got Robespierre to abandon Camille.
In the beginning of floréal (somewhere between April 20 and 30) during an evening session (at the Committee of Public Safety), a brusque fight erupted between Saint-Just and Carnot, on the subject of the administration of portable weapons, of which it wasn’t Carnot, but Prieur de la Côte-d’Or, who was in charge. Saint-Just put big interest in the brother-in-law of Sijas, Luxembourg workshop accounting officer, that one thought had been oppressed and threatened with arbitrary arrest, because he had experienced some difficulties for the purpose of his service with the weapon administration. In this quarrel caused unexpectedly by Saint-Just, one saw clearly his goal, which was to attack the members of the committee who occupied themselves with arms, and to lose their cooperateurs. He also tried to include our collegue Prieur in the inculpation, by accusing him of wanting to lose and imprison this agent. But Prieur denied these malicious claims so well, that Saint-Just didn’t dare to insist on it more. Instead, he turned again towards Carnot, whom he attacked with cruelty; several members of the Committee of General Security assisted. Niou was present for this scandalous scene: dismayed, he retired and feared to accept a pouder mission, a mission that could become, he said, a subject of accusation, since the patriots were busy destroying themselves in this way. We undoubtedly complained about this indecent attack, but was it necessary, at a time when there was not a grain of powder manufactured in Paris, to proclaim a division within the Committee of Public Safety, rather than to make known this fatal secret? In the midst of the most vague indictments and the most atrocious expressions uttered by Saint-Just, Carnot was obliged to repel them by treating him and his friends as aspiring to dictatorship and successively attacking all patriots to remain alone and gain supreme power with his supporters. It was then that Saint-Just showed an excessive fury; he cried out that the Republic was lost if the men in charge of defending it were treated like dictators; that yesterday he saw the project to attack him but that he defended himself. ”It’s you,” he added, ”who is allied with the enemies of the patriots. And understand that I only need a few lines to write for an act of accusation and have you guillotined in two days.”
”I invite you, said Carnot with the firmness that only appartient to virtue: I provoke all your severity against me, I do not fear you, you are ridiculous dictators.” The other members of the Committee insisted in vain several times to extinguish this ferment of disorder in the committee, to remind Saint-Just of the fairer ideas of his colleague and of more decency in the committee; they wanted to call people back to public affairs, but everything was useless: Saint-Just went out as if enraged, flying into a rage and threatening his colleagues. Saint-Just probably had nothing more urgent than to go and warn Robespierre the next day of the scene that had just happened, because we saw them return together the next day to the committee, around one o'clock: barely had they entered when Saint-Just, taking Robespierre by the hand, addressed Carnot saying: ”Well, here you have my friends, here are the ones you attacked yesterday!” Robespierre tried to speak of the respective wrongs with a very hypocritical tone: Saint-Just wanted to speak again and excite his colleagues to take his side. The coldness which reigned in this session, disheartened them, and they left the committee very early and in a good mood.
Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûreté générale (Barère, Collot, Billaud, Vadier), aux imputations renouvellées contre eux, par Laurent Lecointre et declarées calomnieuses par décret du 13 fructidor dernier; à la Convention Nationale (1795), page 103-105
My friends, the committee has taken all the measures within its control at this time to support your zeal. It has asked me to write to you to explain the reasons for some of its provisions. It believed that the main cause of the last failure was the shortage of skilled generals, it will send you all the patriotic and educated soldiers that can be found. It thought it necessary at this time to re-use Stetenhofen, whom it is sending to you, because he has military merit, and because the objections made against him seem at least to be balanced by proofs of loyalty. He also relies on your wisdom and your energy. Salut et amitié.
Paris, 15 floréal, year 2 of the Republic.
Robespierre.
Robespierre to Saint-Just and Lebas, May 4 1793
Dear collegue,
Liberty is exposed to new dangers; the factions arise with a character more alarming than ever. The lines to get butter are more numerous and more turbulent than ever when they have the least pretexts, an insurrection in the prisons which was to break out yesterday and the intrigues which manifested themselves in the time of Hébert are combined with assassination attemps on several occasions against members of the Committee of Public Safety; the remnants of the factions, or rather the factions still alive, are redoubled in audacity and perfidy. There is fear of an aristocratic uprising, fatal to liberty. The greatest peril that threatens it is in Paris. The Committee needs to bring together the lights and energy of all its members. Calculate whether the army of the North, which you have powerfully contributed to putting on the path to victory, can do without your presence for a few days. We will replace you, until you return, with a patriotic representative.
The members composing the Committee of Public Safety.
Robespierre, Prieur, Carnot, Billaud-Varennes, Barère.
Letter to Saint-Just from the CPS, May 25 1794, written by Robespierre. It was penned down just two days after the alleged attempt on Robespierre’s life by Cécile Renault.
Robespierre returned to the Committee a few days later to denounce new conspiracies in the Convention, saying that, within a short time, these conspirators who had lined up and frequently dined together would succeed in destroying public liberty, if their maneuvers were allowed to continue unpunished. The committee refused to take any further measures, citing the necessity of not weakening and attacking the Convention, which was the target of all the enemies of the Republic. Robespierre did not lose sight of his project: he only saw conspiracies and plots: he asked that Saint-Just returned from the Army of the North and that one write to him so that he may come and strengthen the committee. Having arrived, Saint-Just asked Robespierre one day the purpose of his return in the presence of the other members of the Committee; Robespierre told him that he was to make a report on the new factions which threatened to destroy the National Convention; Robespierre was the only speaker during this session. He was met by the deepest silence from the Committee, and he leaves with horrible anger. Soon after, Saint-Just returned to the Army of the North, since called Sambre-et-Mouse. Some time passes; Robespierre calls for Saint-Just to return in vain: finally, he returns, no doubt after his instigations; he returned at the moment when he was most needed by the army and when he was least expected: he returned the day after the battle of Fleurus. From that moment, it was no longer possible to get him to leave, although Gillet, representative of the people to the army, continued to ask for him.
Réponse de Barère, Billaud-Varennes, Collot d’Herbois et Vadier aux imputations de Laurent Lecointre (1795)
On 10 messidor (June 28) I was at the Committee of Public Safety. There, I witnessed those who one accuses today (Billaud-Varenne, Barère, Collot-d'Herbois, Vadier, Vouland, Amar and David) treat Robespierre like a dictator. Robespierre flew into an incredible fury. The other members of the Committee looked on with contempt. Saint-Just went out with him.
Levasseur at the Convention, August 30 1794. If this scene actually took place, it must have done so one day later, 11 messidor (June 29), considering Saint-Just was still away on a mission on the tenth.
Isn’t it around the same time (a few days before thermidor) that Saint-Just and Lebas would dine at your father’s house with Robespierre?
Lebas often dined there, having married one of my sisters. Saint-Just rarely there, but he frequently went to Robespierre’s and climbed the stairs to his office without speaking to anyone.
During the dinner which I’m talking about, did you hear Saint-Just propose to Robespierre to reconcile with some members of the Convention and Committees who appeared to be opposed to him?
No. I only know that they appeared to be very devided.
Do you have any ideas what these divisions were about?
I only learned about it through the discussions which took place on this subject at the Jacobins and through the altercation which was said to have taken place at the Committee of Public Safety between Robespierre older and Carnot.
Robespierre’s host’s son Jacques-Maurice Duplay in an interrogation held January 1 1795
Saint-Just then fell back on his report, and said that he would join the committee the next day (9 thermidor) and that if it did not approve it, he would not read it. Collot continued to unmask Saint-Just; but as he focused more on depicting the dangers praying on the fatherland than on attacking the perfesy of Saint-Just and his accomplices, he gradually reassured himself of his confusion; he listened with composure, returning to his honeyed and hypocritical tone. Some time later, he told Collot d'Herbois that he could be reproached for having made some remarks against Robespierre in a café, and establishing this assertion as a positive fact, he admitted that he had made it the basis of an indictment against Collot, in the speech he had prepared.
Réponse des membres des deux anciens Comités de salut public et de sûrété générale… (1795) page 107.
I attest that Robespierre declared himself a firm supporter of the Convention and never spoke but gently in the Committee so as not to undermine any of its members. […] Billaud-Varenne said to Robespierre, “We are your friends, we have always walked together.” This dishonesty made my heart shudder. The next day, he called him Peisistratos and had written his act of accusation. […] If you reflect carefully on what happened during your last session, you will find the application of everything I said: a man alienated from the Committee due to the bitterest treatments, when this Committee was, in fact, no longer made up of more than the two or three members present, justified himself before you; he did not explain himself clearly enough, to tell the truth, but his alienation and the bitterness in his soul can excuse him somewhat: he does not know why he is being persecuted, he knows nothing except his misfortune. He has been called a tyrant of opinion: here I must explain myself and shine light on a sophism that tends to proscribe merit. And what exclusive right do you have to opinion, you who find that it is a crime to touch souls? Do you find it wrong that a man should be tenderhearted? Are you thus from the court of Philip, you who make war on eloquence? A tyrant of opinion? Who is stopping you from competing for the esteem of the fatherland, you who find it so wrong that someone should captivate it? There is no despot in the world, save Richelieu, who would be insulted by the fame of a writer. Is it a more disinterested triumph? Cato is said to have chased from Rome the bad citizen who had called eloquence at the tribune of harangues, the tyrant of opinion. No one has the right to claim that; it gives itself to reason and its empire is not the in the power of governments. […] The member who spoke for a long time yesterday at this tribune did not seem to have distinguished clearly enough who he was accusing. He had no complaints and has not complained either about the Committees; because the Committees still seem to me to be dignified of your estime, and the misfortunes that I have spoken to you of were born of isolation and the extreme authority of several members left alone.
Saint-Just defending Robespierre in his last, undelivered speech, July 27 1794
One brings St. Just, Dumas and Payan, all of them shackled, they are escorted by policemen. They stay a good quarter of an hour standing in front of the door of the Committee’s room; one makes them sit down onto a windowsill; they have still not uttered a single word, pleasant people make the persons who surround these three men step aside, and say move back, let these gentlemen see their King sleep on a table, just like a man. Saint-Just moves his head in order to see Robespierre. Saint-Just’s figure appeared dejected and humiliated, his swollen eyes expressed chagrin.
Faits recueillis aux derniers instants de Robespierre et de sa saction, du 9 au 10 thermidor (1794) by anonymous.
The Committee of General Security was being spied on by Héron, D…, Lebas: Robespierre knew, through them, word for word, everything that was happening at said committee. This espionage gave rise to more intimate connections between Couthon, Saint-Just and Robespierre. The fierce and ambitious character of the latter gave him the idea of establishing the general police bureau, which, barely conceived, was immediately decreed.
Révélations puisées dans les cartons des comités de Salut public et de Sûreté générale ou mémoires (inédits) (1824) by Gabriel Jérôme Sénart.
Intimately linked with Robespierre, [Saint-Just] had become necessary to him, and he had made himself feared perhaps even more than he had desired to be loved. One never saw them divided in opinion, and if the personal ideas of one had to bow to those of the other, it is certain that Saint-Just never gave in. Robespierre had a bit of that vanity which comes from selfishness; Saint-Just was full of the pride that springs from well-established beliefs; without physical courage, and weak in body, to the point of fearing the whistling of bullets, he had the courage of reflection which makes one wait for certain death, so as not to sacrifice an idea.
Memoirs of René Levasseur (1829) volume 2, page 324-325.
Often [Robespierre] said to me that Camille was perhaps the one among all the key revolutionaries whom he liked best, after our younger brother and Saint-Just.
Mémoires de Charlotte Robespierre sur ses deux frères (1834) page 139.
After the month of March, 1794, Robespierre's conduct appeared to me to change. Saint-Just was to a great degree the cause of this, and this leader was too youthful ; he urged him into the vain and dangerous path of dictatorship which he haughtily proclaimed. From that time all confidences in the two committees were at an end, and the misfortunes that followed the division in the government became inevitable. […] We did not hide from [Robespierre] that Saint-Just, who was formed of more dictatorial stuff, would have ended by overturning him and occupying his place ; we knew too that he would have us guillotined because of our opposition to his plans; so we overthrew him.
Memoirs of Bertrand Barère (1896), volume 1, page 103-104.
About this time Robespierre felt his ambition growing, and he thought that the moment had come to employ his influence and take part in the government. He took steps with certain members of the committee and the Convention, asking them to show a desire that he, Robespierre, should become a member of the Committee of Public Safety. He told the Jacobins it would be useful to observe the work and conduct of the members of the committee, and he told the members of the Convention that there would be more harmony between the Convention and the committee if he entered it. Several deputies spoke to me about it, and the proposal was made to the committee by Couthon and Saint-Just. To ask was to obtain, for a refusal would have been a sort of accusation, and it was necessary to avoid any split during that winter which was inaugurated in such a sinister manner. The committee agreed to his admission, and Robespierre was proposed.
Ibid, volume 2, page 96-97
The continued victories of our fourteen armies were as a cloud of glory over our frontiers, hiding from allied Europe our internecine struggles, and that unhappy side of our national character which acts and reacts so deplorably as much on the whole population as on our nghts and our manners. The enthusiasm with which I announced these victories from the tnbune was so easily seen that Saint- Just and Robespierre, being in the committee at three in the morning, and learning of the taking of Namur and some other Belgian towns, insisted for the future that the letters alone of the generals should be read, without any comments which might exaggerate their contents. I saw at once at whom this reproach was directed, and I took up the gauntlet with the deasion of a man willing to once more merit the hatred of the enemies of our national glory, and the bravery of our armies. Then Samt-Just cried, “ I beg to move that Barère be no longer allowed to add froth to our victories.” […] While Saint-Just was reproving me, Robespierre supported the longsightedness of his friend… […] The next day my report on the taking of Namur was somewhat more carefully drawn up, and I alluded to the observation of my critics, who were envious of the power of public opinion in favour of our troops, then busied in saving the country. This phrase in my report was much commented on, although its meaning was only clear to those who had heard the debate in the committee on the previous evening “Sad are the tunes, sad is the period, when the recital of the triumphs and glories of the armies of the Repubhc is coldly hastened to in this place! Henceforth liberty will be no longer defended by the country, it will be handed over to its enemies!”This pronouncement was not of a nature to be forgiven by Saint-Just and Robespierre, so they determined to supplant me with regard to these reports. They forced that idiot Couthon to attend the Committee of Public Safety at eleven in the morning, before I got there Couthon asked for the letters of the generals that had come in during the night, and took his usual seat at the back of the hall, waiting until the assembly was sufficiently full for him to announce the victones. About one, Couthon, being paralysed and unable to stand up in the tribune, coldly read the news from the armies from his place. This time, no effect was produced in the Assembly, or upon the public. This attempt, authorised by Robespierre and Saint-Just, having missed fire completely, the committee signified its dissatisfaction at the innovation.
Ibid, volume 2, page 123-125
After his return from Fleurus, Saint-Just remained some time in Paris, although his mission as representative to the armies of the Sambre and Meuse and the Rhine and Moselle was unfinished. The campaign was only beginning, but he had several projects in hand, and he stayed in committee, or rather his office, where he was always absorbed and thoughtful. Robespierre, in speaking of him at the committee, said familiarly, as if speaking of an intimate friend: ”Saint-Just is silent and observant, but I have noticed, in his personality, he has a great likeness to Charles IX.” This did not flatter Saint-Just, who was a deeper and cleverer revolutionist than Robespierre. One day, when the former was angry about several legislative propositions or decrees that did not please him, Saint-Just said to him, “Be calm, it is the phlegmatic who govern.”
Ibid, volume 2, page 139
This tyrannical law was the work of Saint-Just Consult the Momteuv of the 22nd of Germinal, where it is reported with the explanation of his motives, and you will see that, if there had been no committee, SamtJust would have used his power with as much dictatorial fanaticism as did Manus, that great enemy of the Roman anstocracy. Robespierre’s fnend never forgave me for having dimmished the force of this blow. Whilst I was at the tnbune of the Convention, he came, with someone unknown, and perused my register of requisitions. He took down certain names, and some days after, towards midnight, Robespierre and Saint-Just entered the committee, where they did not usually come (for they worked in a private office, under pretext that their duties were completely private) A few moments after their entry Saint-Just complained of the abuse I had made of the requisitions, which had been granted, said he, in such profusion that the law of the 21st of Germinal had become null and void.
Ibid, volume 2, page 146
Robespierre, Saint-Just and Couthon were inseparable. The first two had a dark and duplicitous character; they pushed away with a kind of disdainful pride any familiarity or affectionate relationship with their colleagues. The third, a legless man with a pale appearance, affected good-nature, but was no less perfidious than the other two. All three of them had a cold heart, without pity, they interacted only with each other, holding mysterious meetings outside, having a large number of protégés and agents, impenetrable in their designs.
Révélations sur le Comité de salut public by Prieur-Duvernois
Robespierre, who had great confidence in Le Bas because he knew his wise and prudent character well, had chosen him to accompany Saint-Just, whose burning love of the fatherland sometimes led to too much severity, and who had a tendency to get carried away. […] [Saint-Just] also had friendship for me and came often enough to our house. […] Finally our providence, our good friend Robespierre, spoke to Saint-Just to engage him to let me depart with them, along with my sister-in-law Henriette. He consented, but with some conditions.
Memoirs of Élisabeth Lebas (1901)
Volume 8 — page 153. ”Saint-Just, his (Robespierre’s) only confident.” His only confident?
Élisabeth Lebas corrects a passage in Alphonse de Lamartine’s Histoire des Girondins (1847)
The Lamenths and Péthion in the early days, quite rarely Legendre, Merlin de Thionville and Fouché, often Taschereau, Desmoulins and Teault, always Lebas, Saint-Just, David, Couthon and Buonarotti.
Élisabeth Lebas regarding visitors to the Duplay’s during the revolution
—
When arriving in Paris in September 1792, Saint-Just first lived on No. 7 rue de Gaillon up until March 1794, and then on No. 3 rue de Caumartin (today’s No. 5) up until his death. Both those places were within a ten minute walking distance from Robespierre’s home on 398 Rue Saint-Honoré.
Saint-Just was away from Paris (and therefore Robespierre) on missions between March 9 to March 31, October 17 to December 4, December 10 to December 30, January 22 to February 13, April 30 to May 31 and June 10 to June 29.
#sj and max holding hands 🤗💓#robespierre#saint-just#maximilien robespierre#louis antoine de saint just#barère#élisabeth lebas#philippe lebas#frev#frev friendships#long post#saintspierre
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If you still have Sailor Moon on the brain, did watching it at all give you any options you wish to share about other magical girl esk media you wish existed or your own take on how you would create a story in that media space?
If not, then maybe, if you're inclined to, recount some interesting findings about the connections that exist between shojo and shonen media?
(If neither then please disregard, sorry for imposing)
It was interesting! I was surprised at how much it had in common with shonen action anime. Half the boss battles get resolved with a beam clash and the only difference between Super Saiyan and Neo Queen Serenity is whether the hair or the outfit changes.
The one part I found myself sliding off of - due to personal writing preference - is how Usagi is the defacto center of the universe and everyone else is very explicitly playing support. That's part of why I liked the Outer Senshi so much - because they've all got their own ludicrously OP stuff going on, they feel more like equals to Usagi than glorified bodyguards. The inner planet senshi get their own character arcs, which is excellent, but after a while it's pretty clear that none of them can ever finish a fight without Sailor Moon. And that's fine, that's the pretense of the story - their jobs are very explicitly to protect the turbopowerful demigoddess moon princess while she gets her act together enough to remember she can win - but I prefer writing an ensemble cast where everyone feels like the hero of their own story, not the support in someone else's, and that's pretty much antithetical to the core premise of the show.
It also has a lot of the hallmarks of a soft magic system that I personally struggle with - the old "you win by believing in yourself" thing basically means "you win when the plot demands it would be most interesting for you to win" - but again, they can get away with a lot by letting the actual core premise of the universe's power system be stuff like "a pure heart gives you strength" and "the power of love will legitimately make you more powerful." And I respect that the show doesn't just give people powerups whenever - one of the parts I found most emotionally impactful was in the finale of season 3, when Sailor Saturn is going to fight the big bad all by herself and will 100% definitely die in the process, and because Sailor Moon has sacrificed the season's macguffin, she can no longer transform into her powered-up form to help - which doesn't stop her from screaming the transformation phrase over and over, because she is desperate to save Sailor Saturn even if she's been told it can't possibly work. When she gets her The Most Purest Heart Ever powerup at the last possible second, that feels excellent because it's a profoundly impactful character moment that's being supported by the plot with a tangible powerup. It's pretty telling that we don't even see the final bossfight; it's not about the spectacle or the beam clash, it's about the character arcs that surround them. I think that's a really interesting way to handle it and to add depth to an otherwise basic "whose number is bigger" style struggle.
I'm also deeply fond of paragons, and as the seasons go on I really like how Usagi's ultimately kind personality drives her to constantly help, no matter the personal cost or how aggressively people try to dissuade her - and I like that she gets angry and frustrated and even says or does harsh things sometimes, but will ultimately always do what she thinks is right. It makes her feel like a real human being, and the "weaknesses" and flaws in her character - aka the parts that make her something more complicated than a perfectly stoic problem-solving machine - are a lot of fun to watch.
Personal preference, I'd like to see more magical girl stuff where the central pillar of the plot is not a constant will-they-won't-they het romance - but I also like how Sailor Moon as a series is legitimately aware that this is not actually the de facto most important relationship for everyone. Surprising multitude of gay characters aside, I recently caught a season 2 episode where Makoto donates blood to save a close friend, and explains to Usagi that she isn't in love with him, but they have an incredibly profound friendship that's more important to her than any boyfriend, a concept with startles and confuses Usagi. It seems to be a case where the heroine has a Foundational Romantic Subplot that defines the course of her life and the plot, but the rest of the characters get to have more complicated dynamics where their life goals aren't "omg boys", and I liked that a lot!
When comparing and contrasting it to shonen action anime, I think the magical girl genre manages to integrate the lower-stakes slice of life elements significantly more smoothly, and to great effect - the 90% of the show that's silly and ridiculous makes the 10% of it that's extremely serious and gutwrenching much more impactful. That's something that a lot of shonen series struggle with, where the tone goes from "moderately serious with the occasional goof" to "extremely serious with major character deaths." The magical girl genre going from "the dumbest episode premise you've ever heard" to "extremely serious with major character deaths" is a much more precipitous plunge into icy water, as it were.
When I think about how I would write a magical girl story, I basically just smack into the premise of Exalted. Its worldbuilding has exactly what I want - an interesting system of powerset-reincarnation into worthy hosts that allows for complex interpersonal dynamics through varying levels of memory preservation, several different flavors of magical transforming person including Evil Versions, and the one thing I prioritize in my own writing - a world that feels like it can have a lot of main characters and heroes of their own story. Everyone in Exalted has their own shit going on and their own past-life drama, including former friend groups/adventuring parties, soulmates (both regular and evil versions), and anyone who might've previously killed them. Most importantly for my preferences, there's no default main character of the universe. If I were to make an urban fantasy magical girl setting, I'd probably use an extremely similar premise because I find the ramifications of it unbelievably interesting in a way the system itself is not designed to explore.
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Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time Three: Return of the Kink
Day 1: Language of Lust (Voice Kink)
🔞MINORS DNI🔞
Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader
Summary: The first thing art of my third Kinktober challenge, let’s go besties!
Tags: voice kink, language kink, oral, scratching, gratuitous German, aftercare
Word Count: 4.3k
The Masterlist
You tried to understand Medic, you truly did. He talked about his experiments at length, and anyone could see how passionate he was about them. Still, he often forgot that not everyone understood the medical jargon that he did, and you couldn’t bring yourself to interrupt him. The last thing you were able to understand was something about the superiority of the mega baboon heart when compared to the average human’s. It was all downhill from there, but as long as he kept talking, you would keep listening, nodding along. The truth was you loved to hear Medic talk, and the reasons weren’t entirely innocent.
“Now this part gets a bit complicated, are you paying attention?” Medic asked, gesturing towards a rough diagram he had scribbled on the back of some paperwork. As far as you could tell, it seemed to be detailing how one would successfully prevent the human body from rejecting animal organs, specifically the uterus, for some reason. Usually you wouldn’t question it, but you felt it would be wrong to let him keep going on if you truly didn’t understand. Plus, it might mean you get to hear him talk for longer.
“Oh yes! Of course I am,” you said. “But just in case, could you run it by me one more time?”
Medic sighed, smiling fondly at you in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “I am starting to think you just enjoy hearing me ramble, mein schatz.”
You hoped he wouldn’t notice the soft blush that colored your cheeks. He had no idea how well he had just read you. “Maybe I do,” you said, trying to keep your tone as casual as possible.
“Well, I appreciate that. Not many are willing to listen to me go on like this. However, you don’t have to pretend to understand for my sake.” You noticed a hint of sadness in that statement. You knew how it felt to enjoy something, especially something weird, and have no one to share your interests with.
“I don’t have to understand to see how passionate you are about it, and I like it when you get worked up.” You paused for a moment before realizing how that sounded. “When you’re excited, I mean. Excited about your work.”
Medic chuckled. “Is that so? I have always wondered what you enjoyed out of these conversations we share.” He got a bit closer to you, looking you up and down like an intriguing specimen. “And while I do believe you like seeing me happy, I don’t think that’s the only reason.”
“What do you mean?” you asked, perhaps a bit too quickly. You kicked your legs nervously, hearing the metal operation table you were sitting on creak slightly as you did.
“Let’s see,” Medic said, leaning in, studying you. Suddenly, he started touching you. It was entirely innocent, nothing that wouldn’t be done during a normal physical, even if it did leave goosebumps all over your skin. You started giggling uncontrollably when his fingers lingered on areas that he knew were ticklish. All the while he made mock ‘observations’ about you. “A slight flush, perspiration on the brow… excellent bone structure!”
You narrowed your eyes at him, growing more confused by the second. “What the hell does my bone structure have to do with anything?”
“Nothing,” Medic said. “But based on how much redder your face just became, I would say you like it when I compliment your appearance.”
You stared at Medic, finding yourself at a loss for words. He held your gaze, and you looked away first with an awkward laugh, feeling like he was staring right into your soul. Was this really happening? Was this Medic’s way of flirting?
Placing a hand on your cheek, you found that it was indeed warm. You also probably should have been unnerved by Medic’s comment, given his track record with skeletons. In fact, he had once detailed how he planned to one-up that particular achievement with something he lovingly referred to as ‘the circulatory system heist.’ Honestly, he probably wouldn’t be satisfied until he managed to steal every major organ system in the human body at least once, preferably leaving his victim alive in the process.
Finally, you responded. “It’s not just the compliments. Truthfully, I just like hearing you talk. You have a hot voice.” A moment of silence was all it took for you to realize what you had just admitted. Shit. You had gotten too comfortable. You had said too much, and of course, your immediate response was to stammer your way through a desperate, panicked stream of consciousness. “I mean nice! You have a nice voice, in a normal way. It’s, uh- unique, with the accent, you know? Yeah, that’s it. You would make a good narrator.”
Real smooth. Perfectly executed. He wouldn’t suspect a thing.
He had, in fact, suspected many things. An expression flashed across Medic’s face. First came realization, and then surprise. You weren’t sure whether you should be proud of the fact that you actually managed to surprise Medic, of all people.
“You like my accent?” He spoke with a certainty that implied he already knew the answer. You wished you could blame it on Medic being observant, but the fact was you had basically outed your massive crush on the team doctor in a moment of weakness. The only thing to do now was own up.
“Maybe,” you said, just above a whisper. You’re face was so red, and you felt hot from the blood rushing to your face. “I do have a bit of a thing for it.”
It was definitely more than just ‘a bit of a thing.’
“I am surprised. Usually when it comes to accents people go for the French, or the other romance languages,” Medic said, looking you over like you were a subject to be psychoanalyzed. It made you feel so small, even though you had the freedom to leave whenever you wanted. Not that you would. You liked where this conversation seemed to be going, even if you were embarrassed by how it was initiated.
“I guess I just have unique tastes.” There wasn’t much more of an explanation for you to give. You weren’t quite sure when you developed a thing for accents, let alone Medic’s in particular, but the human brain worked in mysterious ways. While you satiated yourself with the occasional foreign nickname he had given you, there was a part of you that occupied lonely nights with thoughts of how it might sound if he were to moan against your ear, whispering sweet nothings in a language you barely understood.
“I hope that this isn’t the only reason you come to visit me,” Medic said. “I actually thought you enjoyed hearing me ramble about exotic animal parts and Medigun technology, but perhaps that was just wishful thinking, ja?”
“Of course not,” you quickly reassured him. “I guess you could say I came for the accent and stayed for the sordid tales of grand theft skeleton.”
That at least got a laugh out of him. “Well then, I suppose I can’t be too hurt, liebchen.”
Damn it. Your blush had just begun to calm down, too. “That’s not fair!”
“Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem with my little pet names before. In fact, I think you liked them very much.” His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on you in a way that reminded you of a wolf tracking its kill.
“It’s different now that you know,” you stammered, struggling to keep your composure as you held his gaze.
“How so, schatz?”
You huffed. Now he was just doing it on purpose. You weren’t going to humor him with an answer if he was just going to keep teasing you- until you felt a breath against your ear. “I asked you a question, mein engelchen. I expect an answer.”
“Oh fuck,” you whispered. You hadn’t even realized how close Medic was getting. Now his arms were on either side of you, gripping the edges of the operation table. He probably noticed the way your body stiffened and the way you squeezed your thighs together. Even so, a part of you worried you were being too presumptuous. Was this really going where you thought it was going? “Medic, what are you doing?”
“I thought that would have been obvious,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m giving you what you want, if you’ll let me.”
“Seriously?” you asked, trying not to be too embarrassed at how the word came out as more of a shocked squeal.
“Only if you want to.” Medic backed away to look you up and down. He still wore a knowing smirk, but there was a hint of sincerity behind it that let you know that if you wanted this to stop, it would stop. You didn’t want that though. You had dreamt of a moment like this, and here it was, being offered on a silver platter, or rather, a silver operating table.
Before you could think, almost as if on instinct, you leaned forward and kissed him. You felt him startle, jolting against you slightly before he melted into the sinfully short kiss. You looked up at him with glassy eyes when you parted. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this.”
Looking up at him like that, you were irresistible. Medic leaned down, kissing you hard. He was much rougher, biting at your lower lip until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. Your legs wrapped around his hips, pulling him against you. He moaned into your mouth as you grounded against him, cursing the layers of fabric that remained between the two of you.
“Medic, please,” you gasped when you parted for a breath.
“How about you beg for me in my native tongue?” Medic said. “After all, I know how much you love it.”
“I don’t know how,” you whined, not even caring that you sounded utterly pathetic. Your voice was already quivering and besides a heated makeout, nothing had really happened yet.
Medic’s gaze softened. You were adorable when you were frustrated. “I’ll teach you, liebe. You know how to say please, don’t you?”
“Bitte.” You responded with some confidence, having heard Medic say it before, usually when asking for assistance on the battlefield.
“Very good. Now, repeat after me, ‘Bitte, lass mich deinen Schwanz lutschen.’” He spoke slowly, and you repeated the words at the same pace, occasionally struggling around the pronunciation that felt foreign on your tongue.
Medic smiled, and you took that as a sign that you did well. “What does it mean?”
That smile twisted into a smirk. “It means, ‘please, let me suck your cock.’”
The heat in your cheeks deepened, and you knew you had just turned a much deeper shade of red. Perhaps it was a bit naive of you to think that what you had just said would be anything other than lewd. “Well,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Can I?”
“Certainly!” Medic’s swirk widened, his teeth glinting in the harsh light of the infirmary. His eyes tracked your every move as you dismounted the table, pacing around him until he was leaning back on the steel surface and you were knelt down in front of him. His ever present gaze made you shiver. Reaching for his belt, you paused at the buckle, glancing up at him nervously. “Go on, liebling.”
You nodded, wasting little time unfastening the belt and unzipping his fly. With some finessing, you eventually freed his cock, working him up with your hand. The way he groaned at your touch made you squirm, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to quell your arousal. You were quite proud to find that he was already half hard.
It wasn’t long before you could get to work with your mouth. You licked your lips until they were reddened and wet. The noise he made when you simply dragged your tongue along the underside of his cock was maddening. You had fantasized about what it might be like to hear him moan, to watch him come undone with your touch, but nothing could compare to the real thing. You needed to hear more.
Little did you know, Medic had thought about this before as well. He had wondered how you would look on your knees, lips parted and ready to take anything he gave you. You took it so well, too. Your mouth was tight around his shaft, and you did such delightful things with your tongue that made him grip the edge of the table and pulled shaky groans from his lips. “That’s it, keep going, liebchen. Du machst das so gut, you’re so good!”
You shuddered, a low moan escaping you. Although it was muffled, Medic immediately took notice. Your muscles were taut, and you seemed to double your efforts, bobbing your head faster and working your tongue against him. Something he said had certainly motivated you. ‘A praise kink,’ Medic thought to himself. ‘This will be fun.’
“Do you like it when I call you good?” You would have nodded if you weren’t otherwise occupied. In fact, you were so wrapped up in your current task that you barely heard him. He didn’t seem to need any further confirmation though. Medic weaved his fingers into your hair until he had a tight grip close to your scalp. “Let’s see just how good you can be for me then. I want to feel your throat tighten around me.”
He pushed you further down onto his cock. Every move was gentle and gradual. Medic paid attention to your reactions, pausing whenever he felt you gag, letting you adjust until eventually you managed to take him as deep as he hoped for. You were held there, breathing slowly through your nose as you felt his cock press into your throat. Your tongue continued to massage the underside of his cock.
“Sheiße,” Medic cursed softly. His grip on your hair loosened, and you took the opportunity to start bobbing your head again. Only now, you could take him to the hilt on your own accord. Instantly he was gripping the edge of the operating table in a white knuckled grasp. “Oh gott, liebling! That’s so good!” He was panting, and you loved it. Every sound that came out of him was breathy and high pitched, almost sounding more akin to whimpers than moans. “You’re doing so well, meine gutes mädchen, my good girl!”
Of course the praise wasn’t about to let up. You moaned around his cock, doubling your efforts. You were a good girl, you were his good girl, and you wanted to prove it with every fiber of your being. For a moment, you thought you could be content to simply bring him to completion right there, your own pleasure be damned, but it seemed like Medic had other plans. You felt a harsh tug on your hair, pulling you off of his cock. You gasped, the sound quickly turning into a whine.
“Sorry, liebchen, but with the way you were moaning…” He paused for a breath. Medic’s expression was pained, as if he didn’t want to make you stop, but forced himself to. “I was getting much too close, and I still want a chance to fuck you properly.”
You immediately jumped at that, almost literally, as you hoisted yourself back up onto the table with surprising speed. The metal had gone cold, cold enough that you felt it through your clothing, causing you to shiver. Speaking of clothing, you were still wearing far too much of it. At least that’s what Medic seemed to think. He quickly stripped you of your pants and underwear, only allowing your top to remain, to ward off the chill of the metal.
Medic took in the sight of you slowly, relishing every detail. Your legs were spread wide and inviting. Oh, you were positively soaked. He ran a finger over your sex and it came back wet and shining. The gesture left you shuddering. It seemed you were sensitive to even the smallest touch. This was going to be fun.
“Please, please fuck me!” you whined.
“You can’t withstand a little teasing, liebchen?” Medic laughed, letting his hands caress your inner thighs, so tantalizingly close to where you wanted to be touched, but just out of reach. “Don’t worry, you’ll have what you want, but first, beg for me properly.”
“Bitte!” you cried, recalling your earlier lessons. “Bitte, Medic!”
“You remembered! Very good.” He dragged you forward to the edge of the table, sliding his cock against you, past your entrance and up to your clit. So close, so agonizingly close. “Now let’s add some new vocabulary. Say, ‘bitte, fick mich.’”
“Bitte! Fick mich!” You didn’t hesitate like before. There was no need to speak slowly and sound out words. Desperation apparently did wonders for your pronunciation.
“Perfekt.”
Medic’s cock was coated in your arousal, twitching against you. He was just as needy as you were, he was just better at hiding it, but there was no need to resist anymore. In one quick thrust, Medic lets you feel every inch of him. The noise you made was animalistic. You clung onto his arm, pulling at the sleeves of the white coat that he still wore. You didn’t even mind- the uniform was starting to become part of the appeal.
He groaned, thrusting slowly, savoring the feeling of your warmth around him. You watched, enraptured by the way he buried himself within you. “So good,” he muttered. You glanced up at him, meeting his eyes. “Is it good for you too, meine liebe?”
Medic stroked your cheek gently, his gaze softening. “It feels good. Fuck, Medic! Please fuck me harder!” you gasped, bucking your hips uselessly.
That moment of gentleness faded as soon as it arrived. Medic gripped the edge of the table for leverage as he fucked you against it. The metal creaked beneath the barrage, but it wouldn’t give away. This table was built to hold the likes of Heavy, there was no way it would buckle. Any other surface very well might have, though.
“I’ve wanted to do this for such a long time,” Medic groaned, his voice low and his breathing heavy. Even now, he tried to take in every feature, committing the image of you taking him so nicely to memory. Everything from the gentle bounce of your chest to the way you bit your lower lip in a vain attempt to smother your own moans would be a detail he could call upon during lonely nights. “If only I knew sooner that you were so smitten with something as simple as my voice.”
Suddenly, his grip shifted to your waist, pulling you forward to meet his thrusts. You keened, feeling him drive deeper into you. He rocked his hips against yours, letting you grind and adjust to the newfound depth.
“Medic,” you began, struggling to catch your breath enough to speak. “Medic, I want- oh fuck!”
“What is it, liebchen?” He paused, letting you regain enough composure to speak. “Go on, tell me what you need.”
“Just keep speaking to me, please, until I come,” you pleaded.
“What would you like to speak about?” He asked, a knowing smirk on his face.
“Anything,” you said, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “And could you maybe do it in German?”
“Natürlich, kleine Taube. Ich glaube, du willst es härter, ja?” Now unable to understand him, the ferocious pace you were subjected to came without warning. You held onto the edges of the table, feeling the metal dig into your fingers as your grip tightened. Medic’s fingers pressed into the softness of your waist. You gasped when his nails dug in as well, adding a delightfully painful edge to the pleasure. “Das gefällt dir, nicht wahr?”
The pain was gone almost as suddenly as it began. You whined, unable to hide how much you had enjoyed the rougher treatment. It wasn’t long before you got another taste. Medic’s hands moved down to your ass, his nails leaving little crescent shaped indents in the supple flesh there as well. You were starting to pant, mouth agape and gasping as he suddenly lifted your hips upward.
“Gott, du hast so einen schönen Arsch. Das nächste Mal sollte ich dich von hinten nehmen.” This new angle proved to be very effective. You were much louder like this, his cock hitting all the right spots. Medic knew that if he were to simply touch your clit right now, you would be coming for him in seconds. However he wasn’t ready for this to end just yet.
Your moans were music to his ears. Should any of his fellow mercenaries pass by the infirmary right now, it wouldn’t be hard to determine just what was happening. The thought managed to rouse some envy in Medic. Your sweet sounds were for him alone. Perhaps it would be better to quiet you down for now. Leaning down, he pressed his lips roughly to yours, muffling your noises. You still whimpered between kisses, but they were soft and subtle, just barely loud enough to reach his ears.
“Magst du es, wenn ich dich küsse? Soll ich weitermachen?” he murmured, stealing another soul reaping kiss. This was quite liberating, being able to say whatever he wanted to you, only to watch you melt at the sound of it every time. “Du musst nicht antworten. Es ist für mich offensichtlich.”
You rolled your hips to meet his. He felt the way your muscles flexed under his hands, and he knew you were close. You whimpered and gasped, haphazardly bucking against him, chasing the last bit of sensation that would tip you over the edge. Your expression was a beautiful mix of desperate frustration and overwhelming pleasure. It was a sight that brought Medic dangerously close to losing control. Realizing he was reaching his limit, he finally showed you some mercy, knowing that the look on your face when you came would far outweigh anything he had yet seen.
“Komm für mich,” he groaned. One hand splayed out on your lower stomach, his thumb reached down to rub quick circles over your clit. You may not have known German, but you could most certainly infer what that meant. You shuddered, back arching, letting out a harsh sounding moan as your orgasm overtook you. “Du fühlst dich so gut an. Ich komme- scheiße!”
Now that you had reached your peak, Medic’s inhibitions seemed to be gone. He chased his own climax, thrusting into you roughly and unevenly. When he finally went still, you had practically gone limp beneath him, overstimulated and teary eyed. When he came you could have sworn he was even louder than you were. You almost wondered if he was playing it up, given your affinity for his voice, but on the other hand, Medic was loud and proud in most situations. It would only make sense that he was a bit of a screamer himself.
When he finally came down from his high he noticed how you were trembling. It was clear that your body was overwhelmed. A few tears managed to spill down your cheeks, even as a blissed out smile remained on your face. You probably didn’t even realize you were crying. Medic withdrew carefully, making an apologetic sound when you whimpered at the sensation.
“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” he said, stating the obvious. Medic observed you for a moment, making sure you were alright, before you suddenly found yourself being hoisted against his chest. You wrapped your legs around his waist for stability as he lifted you off the table and carried you towards an offshoot of the infirmary. Before you could ask where he was going, or how the hell he had the strength left to carry you like this, Medic opened the door to reveal a small, but cozy room. This was clearly his personal quarters. It made sense that it would be part of the infirmary.
“Why are we here?” you asked. Your words were soft, as if raising your voice above a whisper might shatter the pleasant afterglow that had began to settle over you.
“It is quite late. The least I could do is let you stay the night.” Medic laid you down on the surprisingly plush mattress. This was luxury compared to your barracks. You stretched out before burrowing into the blankets letting them engulf you.
“Thank you,” you whispered. “For all of this. That was so good.”
“I had fun as well, mein Täubchen.”
That pet name was new. He had used it a few times tonight, but only now did it pique your interest. “What does that mean?” you asked.
Medic smiled softly. “My dove.”
“Oh,” you said, too flustered to say much else. Being compared to one of his beloved pets felt nice. It made you feel delicate, like something to be cared for.
“You blush so easily!” Medic said with pure glee. You almost expected him to pinch your cheeks. “I will definitely enjoy this side of you, liebe, so easy to tease!
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, trying to brush it off, even though you knew your face was practically glowing with the flush that you were sporting. “Maybe we can do more tomorrow. I’m exhausted.”
“Of course. This was quite an eventful day.” Medic kissed your forehead, an oddly tender gesture after all the rough treatment. “Get some rest. I will join you once I’ve cleaned up in the infirmary.”
Medic left and you closed your eyes. When he returned just a few minutes later you were already asleep, snoring softly in your sanctuary of pillows and blankets. He had never seen you so relaxed before. You murmured something unintelligible when Medic slipped under the covers beside you, whispering for you to go back to sleep as he draped an arm over you, feeling your body press closely against his in the peaceful darkness.
#tf2 x reader#fanfic#fanfiction#merc x reader#minors dni#smut#tf2 smut#team fortress 2#cross posted on ao3#tf2#kinktober#Kinktober 2023#medic x reader#tf2 medic#medic tf2#medic team fortress#medic team fortress 2
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The bonus chapters do provide context and throwbacks to the main books, and it's frustrating to think they wouldn't impact the overall story. After all, the ACOMAF bonus chapter cemented Nessian's relationship and added depth to their story. SJM excels at weaving these elements seamlessly. Therefore, it feels like a step backward to argue that Elain will face a choice when the bonus chapter clearly shows Azriel's feelings for her and his developing friendship with Gwyn.
Elain demonstrably showed interest in Azriel, but he rejected her. Rhys reminded Azriel that Elain and Lucien still have a bond, and Lucien has the right to defend it. Elain returned his necklace, which Azriel then gave to Gwyn.
Both ACOSF bonus chapters establish context. Azriel's chapter clarifies his sullen behavior at the solstice, and Gwyn starts calling him "Shadowsinger" after he reveals the title. Feyre's chapter explains their choice of the name Nyx for their son.
Therefore, it's confusing why SJM would regress Elain and Azriel's interactions. The bonus chapter clearly showed Azriel hurting Elain to the point of returning his gift. Additionally, it focused on his growing investment in Gwyn. Elain's book likely won't start with a love triangle involving Lucien and Azriel. The bonus chapter suggests Elain has already made her choice.
Ideally, Elain's book will explore her reasons for accepting Azriel's rejection and delve into her feelings for her true mate. Most importantly, we should see Elain stand up for herself against Azriel. This is the third time he's acted without considering her, similar to how Tomas motivated Nesta to overcome her fear.
ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:
He didn’t care. Didn’t give a shit as she rose up on her toes, her mouth nearing his— Pain exploded between his legs, knocking the breath from his chest as that gods- damned knee of hers indeed found its mark. Cassian staggered back, swearing viciously. She snorted, looking down at him as he fell on his ass into an armchair, clutching his stomach, trying to reorder his brain— “You’re all the same,” she said, imperious as the night and cold as the dawn. “Perhaps being an immortal makes you predictable.”
In ACOMAF:
I’d had one break from Cassian’s brutal training—just one morning, when he’d flown to the human realm to see if my sisters had heard from the queens and deliver another letter from Rhys to be sent to them. I assumed seeing Nesta went about as poorly as could be imagined, because my lesson the following morning was longer and harder than it’d been in previous days.
I’d asked what, exactly, Nesta had said to him to get under his skin so easily. But Cassian had only snarled and told me to mind my own business, and that my family was full of bossy, know-it-all females.
In ACOSAF:
He didn’t know why the hell he cared. Why he’d bothered. Even from the start. Even after she’d kneed him in the balls that one afternoon at her father’s house.
ACOMAF Bonus Chapter:
No, she had not been with any male, Fae or human. Tomas had wanted to, and she . . . some part of her had known no future lay with him. Knew about his hateful father, and that he did nothing to prevent the man from beating his mother. She had barely let Tomas kiss her, and that day when she had ended it, he’d . . . She swallowed, shutting out the memory of what he’d said and done. The sound of her tearing dress. No—it hadn’t gone that far, but . . . The blind terror in those moments he’d tried, before she’d screamed and clawed her way free. And never told anyone. Something must have shown on her face, in her scent. Because his annoyance vanished—no, it shifted. Into something else, something . . . Rage. That’s what stilled Cassian’s face. Pure, burning rage.
In ACOSF:
Three days afterward, Nesta broke it off with Tomas. Enraged, he’d launched himself at her, pinning her against the enormous woodpile stacked along the barn wall. Spiteful whore, he’d growled. You think you’re better than me? Acting like a queen when you haven’t got shit. She’d never forget the sound of her dress tearing, the greed in his eyes as his hands pawed at her skirts, trying to raise them as he fumbled with the buckle on his belt.
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Period Simulator Part Two
"PLEASE I adore this. Would it be okay to request a part two with the Victorian children? I feel like the prim and proper “I have no emotions” squad would break down so fast" requested by @thesunshineriptide
Summary: Gn! Reader x Riddle/Sebek/Jade/Azul/Trein (I know you Trein simps are out there and I'm coming for your man) You make your boyfriend try a period simulator.
A/N: Part three is in the works, have no fear.
CW:mentions of periods, but no mention of reader's gender. Has reader had a period, or do they just want to torture their boyfriend? That's up to you 😊
Part One Part Three Part Four
"I got something at Sam's shop yesterday," you said as you entered your boyfriend's room. "He literally has everything!" You pulled out a machine from your bag. "It's a period simulator," you gave your best sad puppy eyes, "would you be willing to try it for me?"
Well...he could never deny you anything....
I think as a fandom we all have agreed that Riddle's mom never gave him any talk, let alone the talk. I hc that Trey and Cater had to give it to him after he arrives at NRC and Cater talks about holding hands with a girl, and Riddle worries that he got her pregnant.
All this to say, periods are a new concept to him, so when he agrees he has no idea what he's in for.
His face is red, not from anger for once, but from pain. He's sweating, and he jumps a little when anyone touches him.
He's quicker to behead someone at these pain levels. Ace breathed wrong, and Riddle immediately beheaded him.
Despite his tough exterior, he's still just a gifted child who hasn't reached burnout yet, and therefore isn't great at processing emotion. You take the machine off at the end of the day, and he just curls up in your lap and cries silently. Maybe you should give him a strawberry tart or three. He had a rough day.
Jade planted the period simulator for you to find at Sam's shop. He couldn't justify spending his own money on it, so he played his cards so that you would. He is a man of science and is so excited to learn about a land creature's experience.
He acts like everything is fine for the first hour, but then he disappears. You find him in his mer form in one of Octavinelle's tanks. When he spots you, he wraps himself completely around you, and informs you you will be spending the rest of the time he is on the machine here. He assured you he waterproofed it, so the next 5-7 days should be fine.
5-7 days?!?! It's this moment, wrapped up by your wriggly boyfriend, in a tank, that you realized it was a trap. You love when he's affectionate, but you only were going to leave him on the machine for a day! And he's already not doing great. He had to go to a secondary comfort location! And he wants to do this for 5-7 days?
You're going to have to wait until he's asleep (really asleep. He has a tendency to pretend so that you get more relaxed and lulled into a feeling of safety, predatory instincts die hard) and then you'll have to take the machine off of him yourself. He will punish you, but at least he'll be back to his normal self.
Look, I love Sebek, you love Sebek, we all love Sebek….but that means we are all aware of his ignorance.
He wasn't going to even humor your "mundane human request" until Lilia told him it would be "excellent training for protecting Lord Malleus" and he bought it hook, line, and sinker.
He's much louder when he's in pain, apparently. Even when you aren't in a class together, you can hear him yelling. It doesn't get any better. If anything, he gets louder throughout the day to overcompensate for the fact that his body is feeling shakier and shakier. He can't even grip his pen by the end of the day. It falls out of his hand and fills him with despair.
Gently lay his head on your lap, and run your fingers through his hair. It'll be the softest moment you've ever had with him. He's so innocent looking like this. Give him a heating pad, and that's the moment that he realizes he no longer thinks humans are below fae. He hasn't for a while, but he hadn't noticed til now.
The moment becomes oddly soft for the two of you? He cups your face with his shaky hands and kisses you softly over and over. It's only after an hour of the two of you kissing and cuddling that you remember he's hooked up to the machine, and you should probably take it off of him before he loses his mind.
I know I said in the summary "he can never refuse you" but this is the exception. He thinks it's an absolute waste of time and money. He won't even entertain the idea. He's busy trying to keep this school together. If you want someone to hook themselves up to the machine, you'll have to do it yourself.
He is about to pull a Trein (no time, too busy) but the twins start bullying him so he gives in.
Like Jade, he disappears. Unlike Jade, it's not a trap to get you to comfort him. He genuinely doesn't want to be found. You can't find him anywhere, and decide to wait until your last class to find him. (Jade finds him and rats him out immediately)
You find him curled up under his bed. (Apparently, with the amount of pain he is in, the lights are too much. He also wanted to hide in his octopus pot, but was too hurt to change forms comfortably. Poor baby) To his credit, he left the machine on, although you have to wonder why if his plan was to hide from you anyway.
You'll have to crawl under the bed if you want to help him. He's not coming out. It'll ruin your impression of him as a strong independent boyfriend!
Once you crawl under there, whisper sweet nothings to him to calm him down. He won't be able to hear you over the ringing in his ears, but if you use a calm sweet tone, he'll start to come back to Twisted Wonderland.
Once he's back, you'll have to make a lot of promises to get him out from under the bed so you can take the machine off. He won't verbally agree to any of it now, but it will come up at a later date if you forget. He never forgets a deal.
Once he comes out, get him a heating pad and cuddle him close. Make him feel loved and safe. He doesn't function well with pain.
Also, make sure to put his dresser in front of the door to his room, or the twins will get in.
....
Tag list: @shytastemakerthing
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twisted wonderland riddle#twst riddle#riddle rosehearts#riddle x reader#twst jade#jade leech#jade x reader#jade leech x reader#professor trein#twst trein#mozus trein#trein x reader#sebek zigvolt x reader#twst sebek#sebek x reader#sebek zigvolt#twisted wonderland sebek#azul ashengrotto#azul x reader#twst azul#azul ashengrotto x reader
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Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 7
We're a day late for WIP Wednesday, but I was wiped after the work shifts from hell the last two days. But today and tomorrow I'm off so I'm back on track! No work next Wednesday, either, so I should be good to go next week. Because I'm a day late, you get a long one today!
Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.
First, Previous
Word Count: 1.9k
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Still not entirely comfortable, Tim finally stepped into the lab. On the far wall, behind yellow and black doors was the portal he’d heard so much about.
Danny followed his gaze and put a hand on his arm. “Come on, Tim. The weapons vault is over here.”
Tim nodded once. “What do you have?”
“Everything.” Danny placed his hand over a scanner next to the door and it beeped and opened. “You like staffs, right? Try this out.”
Danny passed him a silver metal staff just a bit longer than his favored weapon. Tim took it and ran through two of his warm up exercises. The balance was excellent and he picked up the pace. If it wasn’t for the color scheme, he’d consider using one as his own backup.
“This is great. It’s effective against ghosts?”
“Yep. The Fenton Rod.” Danny reached out for it and Tim gave it back. “And if you do this—” he twisted and the staff separated into two “—you’ve got two weapons.”
He passed the two halves back to Tim who ran through a few more attacks and blocks with them. He had enough practice with Dick’s escrima sticks to hold his own. “This is perfect, thanks.”
“Now, the rest of you, would you prefer distance weapons or close up?”
Tim backed away from the vault to allow the others to explore their options. He spent the time practicing on connecting and separating the staff—he would not call it the Fenton Rod, even in his own head—and running through a few more complicated patterns with it to make sure he was familiar with it’s weight.
“You’re really good with that,” commented Sam who was watching him.
Tim shrugged fixed a self-conscious smile to his face. “It’s always good to know self defense when you live in Gotham. And Bruce is more particular about it than most.”
“Really? I thought he was a vapid idiot.”
“Oh, he is,” agreed Tim. “But he loves his kids and knows us being linked to him puts us in danger. So he goes to extremes to make sure we can hold our own when trouble arises.”
Before Sam could reply, Danny called out to them, “Hey, Tim! Do you want a long range weapon as well?”
“Sure. What do you have?”
So he joined as Danny showed them several blasters and lasers that they could use. Tim pulled out a small one that could be used single-handed.
“This is good for me.”
Cassie and Conner chose heavier weapons with more range and attack power, though Bart followed Tim’s lead.
“Okay, now that that’s done. Ready to practice ways to get a ghost out of a human?”
The emphatic agreement from every member of Tim’s team seemed to surprise Sam and Tucker but Danny just laughed.
“Sam, Tucker, which of you wants to volunteer?”
The two exchanged a look and Tucker sighed and stood up. “I’ll do it.”
“Thanks, Tuck. So, I’m gonna overshadow Tucker and go over the signs of overshadowing. They’re mostly pretty subtle if you don’t know the person. A ghost has no access to the memories or thoughts of the person they’re overshadowing, so behavior will be off. Then, if Tim is okay with it, I’ll overshadow him so he can explain how it feels to the rest of you. And I’d appreciate it if at least one of you metas will let me overshadow you so we can make sure the methods that work on baseline humans also work with you.”
Conner looked at Tim. “You trust him?”
Tim nodded. “Have since I was eleven.”
“I’ll do it, then.”
Danny grinned. “Great! Tucker, you first.” And with that, Danny transformed and flew right into Tucker’s body.
Tim watched closely as Tucker went rigid for a moment before resuming his casual slouch. “Tucker isn’t present at all right now,” said Tucker. Then his eyes flared green. “Any time a ghost uses their powers while overshadowing someone, the eyes’ll change. So look for that. Changes in behavior if you know the person are also a dead giveaway. Most ghosts haven’t been on earth in a long time, so another sign is being unused to Earth customs. Especially modern ones. But really, the eyes are your best bet. Get a ghost emotional and they can’t hold it back. Now, Sam, force me out!”
Sam grinned. “With pleasure.” She held up a thermos. “Best way is to use a thermos. It contains the ghost and prevents them from further attacks. To use, you simply remove the cap, point the opening at the ghost or overshadowed person in question, and press the button.” She did and a beam of blue light hit Tucker. Danny was pulled out and sucked into the thermos. Sam recapped the device and spun it in her hands.
Tucker held his head and groaned. “How long was he in me for?”
“Like thirty seconds, Tuck. Don’t be dramatic,” replied Sam.
“Does it hurt?” asked Cassie.
Tucker shook his head. “Minor headache immediately post overshadowing that fades in less than a minute. You don’t have any memory of the time you were overshadowed, so some disorientation if your location changed or a lot of time has passed is also normal. Maybe some vague impressions, like from a dream you can’t quite remember.”
“Ready for take two?” asked Sam.
Tucker rolled his eyes, but waved a hand around in agreement.
“So, to release a ghost from a thermos, you press the button that says ‘release.’ Super easy.” She did so, letting out another beam of light and when it cleared, Danny was floating before them.
“Does being in the thermos hurt?” asked Conner.
Danny shook his head and grinned. “Nah. Feels like you’re wrapped up in a heavy blanket. So sometimes it’s nice and sometimes it’s claustrophobic and I’m desperate to get out.”
Tim hummed. “How many ghosts can you fit in one thermos?”
Danny shrugged. “Not sure. Quite a few, but I’ve never pushed the limits. I think six or seven is the most we’ve done. Maybe more if it’s just ectopusses and blob ghosts I’m trying to clear out of my parents’ way.”
“Ectopusses?” asked Cassie.
At the same time, Bart asked, “Blob ghosts?”
Danny laughed. “I think there’s something to the hypothesis that octopusses have as much intelligence as a person. So many of them become ghosts. And they’re super curious. I think they like to explore places on land because it’s so different from the oceans they lived in. And blob ghosts are just what they sound like. Shapeless ghosts that are usually less than a foot large and don’t appear to have any cognitive power.”
Tim had a dozen questions he wanted to ask, but the news report going in the background was a constant reminder that they didn’t have time. “How else can you end an overshadowing?”
Danny nodded and flew back into Tucker.
Sam went over the different weapons they had that could be safely used on an overshadowed human. The small blasters were the easiest and caused no injury to the host. Tim’s staff was also effective, though it could leave bruises.
Finally, they’d each managed to get Danny out of Tucker three different ways each. He couldn’t even say a thermos was the weirdest thing he’d ever used as a weapon, though the fact that it had been designed as a weapon was certainly novel.
“So now it’s my turn.” Tim couldn’t help the way his stomach twisted at the thought of what was coming up. He trusted Danny, he really did. And he wanted to know what it felt like to be overshadowed. But he hated losing control of himself. Absolutely despised it. He took a deep breath and met Danny’s eyes. “Do it.”
Danny bit his lip. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Do it, Danny.”
A brief moment of hesitation longer, then Danny was flying towards him. The next thing Tim was aware of was a sharp pain in his head that he could only describe as being located behind his brain. Conner was facing him with the thermos pointed at him. The pain was already fading as he blinked and took in the lab again.
Nothing had changed.
“What was it like?” asked Cassie.
The question put Tim right back into Bat Report Mode. “As Tucker said, I have no memory of anything since I saw Danny fly at me to overshadow me. When he left, I had a strange pain in my head that faded by the time I had checked our surroundings for any changes that may have occurred while I was unaware.” As he spoke, he did a quick body check to look for any unusual pains or feelings elsewhere in his body. “I appear to be in the exact same physical condition as I was before the experiment. How long was I overshadowed for?”
“Less than two minutes,” said Conner. “I promise no longer than that. Danny had you sing a weird song about exploding weasels and then I sucked him into this.” He shook the thermos.
Cassie laughed. “It was ‘Pop Goes the Weasel.’ We have to teach you about nursery rhymes.”
Bart raised his hand. “Uh, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one, either.”
And finally, Tim was able to relax. “Next weekend we all have off, Cassie and I will teach you all the nursery rhymes. Dick probably knows a ton. I’d imagine growing up in a circus with performers from all sorts of countries exposed him to so many.”
Bart grinned. “It’ll be interesting to see how the list of ones I know compares to the ones you know!”
Conner smiled back. “I’d like that. I should ask Clark for any he knows, too.” As he spoke, he pressed the button to release Danny.
When the light cleared, Danny was floating upside down looking Tim over. “So what’d you think of your first experience being overshadowed?”
“Four out of ten. Would not like to repeat, but I’ve definitely been through worse.”
Danny laughed and, still upside down, turned until he was facing Conner. “Think you’re ready for you turn?”
Conner took a deep breath and handed the thermos to Bart. “As I’ll ever be.”
Danny nodded and flew into him, just as he had Tucker and Tim. And then there was no more Conner. No more Superboy. Just someone who looked like him, but held his head cocked the wrong way. Who slouched a bit too much. Who was so clearly not Conner.
Tim pulled his new staff out and reminded himself it was just Danny. This was friendly right now. And it was reassuring to know he’d be able to tell when any of his friends were overshadowed.
Danny started to sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star in Conner’s voice.
Bart held up the thermos, ready to pull Danny in.
“Let me,” said Tim. “I want to do it.”
“You’ve got it,” replied Bart as he recapped the thermos.
Tim rushed forward and hit Conner on the side with his staff; Danny went flying out of him.
Conner shook his head and looked around. “That was weird. I remember it all, though.”
Danny was rubbing at his side where Tim hit. “Yeah. I’ve never overshadowed a meta before. At least no one I could tell was a meta. I could hear you, too. It was a struggle to keep control of your body.”
Tim sagged in relief. “Do you think that makes them less of a target?”
“Possibly?” The uncertainty in Danny’s voice made Tim uneasy. “From some ghosts, sure. But others like a challenge and may target him—them—specifically.”
Bart grinned. “Sounds like it’ll be an interesting game! So, now that we’ve got the basics down, we’re going out there to help, right?”
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Next
Okay, so part of the reason for the length is that I just didn't want to cut it anywhere. Though the fact that it happened when I'm a day late posting certainly helped me not feel like I should find a spot to break it up!
Now, I've decided to move away from the tag system because breaking it up over two posts is getting to be quite difficult. So I've set up a subscription post for this story. Subscribe to that post and you'll get a Tumblr notification when I post. Instructions on how to subscribe can be found there. Anyone who has requested a tag before this post will be tagged today and on the next update, but I won't add anyone new. It's just getting to be a bit too much! (And I'm afraid of getting hit with a shadowban.)
In other news, I've started transferring my works to AO3. Haven't gotten there with this one yet, but the Wrong Number AU (now titled Answer My Call) has been posted. As has the bad reveal fic. Both can be found in my masterpost if you're interested.
Last bit of housekeeping, two posts below this one, I have a poll asking if you'd be interested in me sharing anything I've written for Good Omens. Feel free to check that out. Most of my time will still be spent with DPxDC, but with the new season coming out, I may try to revisit some things I haven't touched in a year (longer?).
Tag List Part 1
@gremlin-bot @bonebrokebuddy @britcision @lady-time-lord- @welcometosasakiworld @akikkobara @phoenixdemonqueen @dolfay @skulld3mort-1fan @we-ezer @markus209 @sjrose1216 @onyxlightdragon @dragonsrequiem @jesus-camp-the-sequel @spidey29phangirl @kyrianclawraith @evilminji @introvert-even-on-the-internet @emergentpanda-blog @lexdamo @v-inari @idontgetpaidenoughforthisshit @longlivethefallen @undead-essence @xye-chan @liandrin @seraphinedemort @kisatamao @schalensitzbucket @caelestisdreamer @runfromthemedic @nutcase8691 @channajen @tonicmii @ambiguouslyominous @vythika96 @addie-lover-of-stories @ironicvixen @violetfox2 @pickleking8 @mysticalcomputerdetective @ark12 @mygood-bitch99 @squirrel-wolf @satisfactionbroughtmeback @sometimesthingsfallapart @automaticsoulharmony @d4ydr34min9 @revnantdpxdclover @midigeria @raginblastocyst @feral-bunny31, @lunaria618, @ghostreblogging, @ace-aro-as-shit
#dpxdc#bring me home#dead tired#speed run training#make sure everyone can use the weapons safely before rushing out to battle!#good thing they already come pretrained#more than danny sam and tucker had going for them
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I do wonder if we get the beginning of Brief Lives in the next Sandman Netflix season, specifically with this moment:
If it's going to be played quite the same way? If they end up skipping straight from Seasons of Mist to Brief Lives (which I think is an excellent idea to be clear) it raises a few possibilities:
(cut for comic spoilers & speculation)
Personally I find this moment a bit weird in general because Dream doesn't even name the woman who supposedly just broke his heart and thus launched the action of this arc. Also the fact we later find out it's Thessaly who in the comic at least (the show can always soften the character as they have others) fucking sucks, for her to kick off Dream's sadness roadtrip of self-destruction feels like such a waste. It also feels weird to imagine babygirl Netflix Tom Sturridge Dream going for someone like Thessaly after his whole arc of trying to be a better person and learning important lessons and also just...being a much softer character who is trying to do better, going for someone like Thessaly (who doesn't even like him by her own admission) and who is also terrible feels like a tragic step backwards in his character development. Not inconceivable, just terribly tragic.
Which has me thinking that one possibility is if they go straight from Seasons of Mist to Brief Lives, this moment above could be about Nada, who does choose to pass on after he frees her, even after expressing that she still loves him. That love is just not enough for her to accept his offer to be his queen and stay (after 10k years of Hell, who can blame her?!).
Point is, this moment instead being part of the long tail of Dream's self-recrimination about Nada choosing to pass on would make a lot of sense and be a much more justifiable kick-off for Dream going on a roadtrip that's an expression of his doubts in his ability to change for the better (and therefore, must he die?). Nada's punishment is so heinous I can easily see the Sturridge Dream being conflicted about his own actions for much longer than he appears to be in the comic, leading to this moment after he set her free.
Thessaly is an immortal, so even if/when she shows up, her having an acrimonious "angry ex girlfriend" reaction to Dream need not be because she was the girlfriend who kicked off the Brief Lives arc, they could have just dated sometime in the past centuries and still have vitriol between them.
And finally, and this is just me being a shameless Dream/Hob shipper, I do kind of wonder how one even justifies Dream ending up with an immortal human like Thessaly when Hob is right there.
Look, in the comic, Hob barely seems to remember Dream exists when he's not there, so there's no feeling of "Why doesn't Dream hook up with Hob instead??" when you first learn about Thessaly. But in the show, you've got the 1789 tension, the missed meeting, the devotion of the New Inn. Dream going for another, shitty immortal brunet when Hob is right there feels a bit like a slap in the face in that context.
And let me be clear, it's not because I'm being shipper garbage that thinks Neil can, should, or would alter the story to appease Dreamling shippers or that Dream dating Thessaly in the show as he does canonically in the comic would be an intentional slap in the face to Dreamling shippers! It is beyond wishful thinking to imagine we'd get more than what the comic offers which is a few beautifully rendered, sentimental moments between them for us to build our fanon ship off of. It's not Neil's responsibility to make it canon so don't be fucking weird about it.
It's more that the show is so queer. The comic is queer too but the show absolutely focuses and centers the narrative on predominantly queer couples and people, more than straight ones. They also softened for example the Corinthian and confirmed he's gay and has some non-destructive relationships with men, he's not just a murderer of gay men. So the narrative is even more queer than the comic.
In the 80s/90s when Sandman came out, the idea of Dream as the lead protagonist being canonically queer I think would have been pretty unlikely. He's very, very het in the comics, with the closest we get to a whisper of him not being strictly het being a mention of Lucifer once being beautiful and some speculation they might have had a relationship.
But the show is so very queer and the energy so charged between Dream and Hob (and the writers acknowledged and encouraged it!) that there is no, in my opinion, natural conclusion that, "Sure, almost everyone else is queer in this, but not Dream, obviously." If anything, it would be jarring to have so many queer characters only to slam the door shut on the possibility that Dream might also be queer.
Which is my roundabout way of saying: I wonder how Thessaly will fit into this at all. I speculate she might be removed entirely from this beat of Brief Lives, in favor of making Dream more remorseful about Nada in a sympathetic way. Furthermore, introducing Thessaly when Hob, another immortal who actually likes Dream is right there the idea that he opts for Thessaly (a woman who doesn't even like him to the point where she plays an active part later in his death) instead after being tortured for 106 years is actually painfully heartbreaking.
So in conclusion: eh? Who knows!
But also: DREAM, Hob is RIGHT THERE! Date HIM, not fucking THESSALY?!
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On Disaster Puppies, Anxious Angels, and Applesauce
*This post has been revised and expanded from a previous post.
So the key to understanding the end of S2 boils down to this:
Angel!Crowley = disaster puppy (all enthusiasm, not much sense)
Aziraphale = anxious kid who grew up in a house with plastic covers on all the furniture (this bit is important)
Let’s break it down:
When they first encounter each other, in the time Before the Beginning, Aziraphale shows signs of unease when he hears Angel!Crowley questioning God’s Ineffable Plan. I’ve seen it suggested that Aziraphale reacts this way because has doubts—that he doesn’t trust Heaven. Yet it’s well established in S1 that the loss of faith comes later, after the events surrounding Armageddon prove to him irrevocably that Heaven sees humans as no more than tokens in an elaborate game against Hell. No, Before the Beginning, Aziraphale trusts Heaven implicitly, and that trust is the root of his fear. Aziraphale trusts Heaven, Heaven has rules, and rules must be enforced.
Aziraphale doesn’t warn Angel!Crowley off questions because he thinks there’s something wrong with Heaven. He warns Angel!Crowley off questions because he lives in a restrictive environment with rigid rules and is terrified of (vague, unspecified) consequences. Anxious children don’t need to have erred or been punished previously in order to be afraid of punishment. They need only have an expectation (implicit from the mere existence of rules) that punishment of some sort is possible. In fact, having not been punished (because their anxiety mostly keeps them in line without need for actual adult intervention) makes the fear—not threat, but fear—of punishment that much more powerful because they don’t know what the punishment will be, and the unknown is terrifying. (What’s more, they are desperate for praise and reassurance that they won’t be punished and are doing the right thing, hence Aziraphale’s love language being words of affirmation.) Aziraphale is trying to protect the innocent, joyful angel he just met, even though he doesn’t yet know what he is protecting him from. He just knows you’re not supposed to muss the furniture, and what Angel!Crowley is suggesting feels dangerous.
Fear of the unknown explains why Aziraphale’s demeanor shows more of an edge in certain present-day scenes of S2. Thanks to his and Crowley’s post-Armaged-didn’t appearance swap, Aziraphale has now been to Hell and has a much better sense of what punishment might actually look like—not to mention a very up-close and personal understanding of exactly the kind of punishments that were intended for his beloved. Punishment is no longer a vague concept but rather a well-defined set of parameters, and Aziraphale knows how to deal with things that have edges. (Yes, that’s a flaming sword allusion, but it’s also a pointed reference to the notion that things that can be defined can be countered.) Because he can anticipate, he can plan. And planning is something Aziraphale excels at, because anxious children out of necessity grow into meticulous planners.
Having this knowledge of what punishment looks like leads our shades-of-gray angel to become less fearful for himself while simultaneously making him even more protective of Crowley. His thought process has gone from, “Punishment is big and terrifying, and I don’t know how I would cope” to “Punishment looks like this, and it sucks as much as or more than I expected, and I want my beloved to never have to endure it again.” It has also made him more protective of the innocents who are bound to get caught in the middle of Heaven and Hell’s unending conflict. Indeed, he goes truly fierce during the battle at the bookshop in a way that we have not seen before, even at the climax of S1. (While he did pull that tone with Furfur in 1941, that moment arose from disdain rather than aggression, so it’s not particularly relevant to this part.)
This also accounts for why, after his Fall, Crowley has become a demon who only “goes along with Hell as far as he can.” Angel!Crowley had no concept nor fear of punishment. Crowley now has both, but he’s already been punished in the worst way possible (loss of his angelic status and the opportunity to work on more projects like his beautiful nebulas), so he knows what punishment feels like. He knows where to toe the line and knows what to expect if/when he doesn’t. He’s not that bright and enthusiastic puppy anymore; he’s a wary old dog with a long memory, who is willing to take a stand to protect those he’s loyal to, even while he still cowers at certain types of threats (“We can run away together!”).
Angel!Crowley was punished and cast out of the restrictive home with all the plastic on the furniture, and the new house he’s been stuck in for the past 6000 years is run by the sort of abusive f*cks who beat puppies and raise them for dog fights. (I have a theory that Crowley was punished less severely than some of the other Fallen. He is, after all, one of the most beautiful demons we see, and that suggests that the person in charge of doling out punishments was more annoyed at him than angry, and so didn’t curse him with the truly nasty afflictions we see on the more repugnant of demons—like Hastur, who delights in pain, or Beelzebub, who had some leadership role in the Rebellion—but that doesn’t matter because his new home was terrible, possibly in part because of that lesser punishment. I bet that prior to the Rebellion, “Lucifer and the boys” delighted in the cliquish equivalent of “throwing sticks for the Disaster Puppy to chase,” and poor Angel!Crowley didn’t realize they weren’t really his friends so much as a different set of abusers who used attention instead of neglect. But after the Fall, they became his keepers, and his eyes were opened to a whole new level of loss and betrayal. Anyway.)
As a member of the Fallen, Crowley doesn’t remember the names of some angels/demons (Furfur, Saraqael, and yes, Aziraphale at first) but clearly remembers others (like the Metatron and Gabriel), even though they all remember him. I’ve seen suggestions that this is a trauma response or the results of a partial memory wipe, but I think it has a much simpler explanation: He only remembers the names and faces of entities who stood out to him. That enthusiastic angel who bubbled with joy and absolutely annoyed some of the other angels with his exuberance? Of course, he sticks in their memory! But they barely registered to him because they were each just one in a billion random strangers he played with in the park. The Disaster Puppy enthusiastically plays with everyone. He remembers the ones who had the power to slap him on the nose—and the one angel whose daring and kindness impressed him enough for his name to finally stick after it didn’t during their previous encounters.
At their very first meeting, Aziraphale introduces himself; Angel!Crowley doesn’t reciprocate. Names are irrelevant. He’s too caught up in his nebula to even take note of the introduction. So later, when they meet on the wall of Eden, introductions are needed again: Aziraphale because Crowley didn’t recall his name, and Crowley because he never gave his name at their first meeting (and probably never during any of their chance encounters in Heaven, because remember, Disaster Puppy just isn’t all that concerned with names), but also because even if Aziraphale did pick up Angel!Crowley’s name in passing sometime after their first meeting, he absolutely would not assume that the fallen angel still uses it. Rather than risk dead-naming him, he waits for Crowley (or Crawly, at the time) to tell him what he prefers to be called.
So, it’s obvious why Crowley didn’t remember Aziraphale’s name, but did he recognize Aziraphale at all before approaching him on the wall? I would bet on absolutely, yes, but with the vague sort of recollection of a conversation he probably should have taken a bit more to heart. He sees a being who tried at some point in the past to warn him, whose name he doesn’t recall because it didn’t seem important enough at the time, but who makes him feel comfortable enough to approach: “You tried to help me before, which means you are kinder than those other angels who didn’t, and so you probably won’t hurt me now, even though I’m Fallen. I’m feeling conflicted about this notion that knowledge of Good and Evil is a Bad Thing, and as someone who tried to advise me earlier, I feel like I can talk to you about it.” (What neither of them has yet realized is that knowledge of Good and Evil is the key to recognizing that Heaven and Hell are two ends of the same poison pill, and it’s not only humans who have been kept in the dark; a lot of the Angelic Host are also in need of some applesauce.)
All of this is why the memory-wipe theory simply doesn’t make sense. Think about it: Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel, and their intent with him was to perform the equivalent of a full hard drive wipe and reinstall of the base angelic software. They think of him as corrupted beyond repair. If even the highest of high archangels isn’t worth the massive effort of selective file deletion, why would they waste that same amount of effort on Crowley to wipe (and possibly replace) a few select memories from before the Fall? Yes, it’s clear that Crowley was an angel with a reasonably high level of access, given his ability to open the archives, but there’s absolutely no indication that he outranked Gabriel. In fact, his scorn for the Supreme Archangel is exactly the sort of scorn you’d have for someone who used to have authority over you and abused it extremely casually but was mostly the kind of negligent adult who ignored you until you were useful and/or pissed them off.
(As an aside, this also ties back to the question of why angels don’t eat while demons do. Aziraphale eats—with enthusiasm!—so clearly angels can eat, and Crowley mentions “food not that good anymore” in Heaven as part of why he started palling around with the other discontents, so angels certainly did eat at some point, but now they don’t. While Hell plainly has some sort of meal situation—not to mention a fiery beverage dispenser—we don’t see so much as a watercooler in Heaven. And well, yeah. Obviously. Because somebody in Heaven wants to keep everything pristine, so they won’t allow food anywhere near all that Heavenly furniture. It won’t kill the angels to go without meals, because they are immortal beings, so all the ban achieves is a) starvation, b) loss of pleasure, and c) control. After all, food control—control over the basic function of consuming sustenance—is a great way to exert and reinforce control over a group of beings that you want to ensure won’t rebel. And that’s really all it comes down to: Keeping everything pristine and spotless and perfect, and keeping everyone in line. Withholding the literal and metaphorical applesauce. And the Rebellion gave whoever is in charge of those decisions [my bet would be on the Metatron; God seems too self-involved to care about the furniture] the perfect excuse to change the house rules to ban food. And since it’s definitely a cult, all the ones who are deeply indoctrinated just sort of…go along with it. Anyway….)
If Aziraphale feels any guilt over Crowley’s Fall, it’s a mild twinge over the fact that he wasn’t able to convince the Disaster Puppy to stop jumping on the furniture. That’s not the primary motivating factor for why he’s so adamant about protecting Crowley at the end of S2 or at any other time in their long association. Aziraphale and Crowley are both, in their ways, protectors. That is established over and over again, throughout all of their actions and conversations. Protecting is a primary drive for each of them, something that is at the core of their beings, and it often puts them at odds over the exact same objective: Protecting the one(s) they care most about. They withhold information and behave in sometimes appalling ways to protect each other when what they really need to be doing—as they should have learned from the first Armageddon attempt—is working together to protect what they have with each other along with everything else that they love.
Because the reality is that if either one of them sacrificed themself to save the other, that very sacrifice would destroy the other. They are of one heart, and it cannot, will not live if it is not whole. But neither one fully trusts the other to coordinate a defense because of that same history and past trauma. Aziraphale thinks Crowley won’t listen to him because Angel!Crowley shrugged him off, and Crowley is still afraid of being kicked if he lets his guard down because he can see how much his beloved is still a victim of the cult programming (and Aziraphale is not above kicking if he feels panicked). Crowley doesn’t think Aziraphale will hurt him on purpose, but rather because Aziraphale doesn’t see all the angles and manipulations and therefore can’t see all of the threats—and in their conversation at the end of S2E6, the angel seemingly proves him right.
Now, here I want to pause for just a moment to address a certain type of anxiety response, because it’s vitally important to what comes next, and that is diving in without a plan. It is entirely too common for individuals with anxiety to go into a tailspin when confronted with something that feels overwhelming. This is followed by a prolonged period of recovery, which may then lead to meticulous planning to deal with the situation (if it can’t just be avoided entirely). Unfortunately, this process takes time—often too much time. This is why we sometimes see Aziraphale throw himself into situations with very little forethought or preparation (like, say, following the clues to surrounding the appearance of a certain ex-Supreme Archangel at his bookshop), because he’s tapping into a slightly more self-aware (if rather unhealthy) approach to handling things that trigger his anxiety: “I know if I get up in my head about this, it will paralyze me, and shit needs to get done, so fuck it.” He is short-circuiting the possibility of a tailspin by refusing to think before he acts. The kind of energy that accompanies this approach could easily be categorized as frantic.
When Aziraphale is telling Crowley the “good” news, he appears excited, but given one significant fact we do know—that Aziraphale is driven by anxiety—I would argue that his demeanor in this moment could more accurately be read as agitated. Now, we could debate all day what might have happened during his conversation with the Metatron to cause that agitation. It is plausible—indeed likely, given Neil’s intricate plots—that there was something more to it than we’ve been shown thus far. But we don’t need to know the details to understand Aziraphale’s response, because Aziraphale’s anxiety provides all of the necessary context. After spending several minutes enduring the direct attention of the Metatron, Aziraphale is acutely aware of one very important thing: that he and his beloved demon are, at the very least, still under intense scrutiny by his own former side, and that means they still are not, and have never been, entirely safe from Heaven or Hell’s interference. So he does what our darling Anxiety Angel always does when he is terrified and needs to act: He throws himself in before he can think too hard about what he’s throwing himself into.
So this brings us to Aziraphale’s return to Heaven.
I don’t think that Metatron’s intent is to kill Aziraphale. He will almost certainly resort to that if looks like Aziraphale won’t give him what he wants, but right now, he just sees a tool that can help him achieve his goal (provided Crowley is out of the way). Because here’s the thing: the archangels are clueless about some very important things. That has already been established (see: Job and conversations about human birth). Metatron is probably a bit less so than most, but there are things the Angels in Charge fundamentally do not understand, and they don’t know it yet, but Aziraphale is one of those things.
Metatron sees an angel who has not only lived on Earth long enough to truly understand humans, but also (and this is key) has collaborated with a demon—a tempter—and then effectively lived in the company of that tempter for the past four years. Metatron sees Aziraphale as someone who can be tempted and manipulated. That’s why he brings him coffee. He’s trying to use that. He wants a tool he can control. But he, like all of the highest of the Host, is guilty of neglect. He has never paid close enough attention to Aziraphale to see the Bastard Angel: the one who pushes back against Crowley, and even against God, who offers his own temptations, who is stubborn and implacable (much to Crowley’s frequent annoyance even while he loves it), and who isn’t afraid to stand firm in the face of Heaven, Hell, and Armageddon to protect the world and the keeper of his heart. Metatron thinks Aziraphale's resistance to Armageddon was the result of Crowley's manipulation, so he figures he'll just get Crowley out of the way or keep him too busy to interfere, and use Aziraphale for himself. Metatron is so very wrong.
As to why Aziraphale hasn’t fallen yet (and isn’t going to fall, even in S3) in spite of all of his misdeeds and mini-rebellions: it all comes down to the fallout. The Rebel Host—including the poor Disaster Puppy angel running around with them—started a war. In Heaven. They didn’t just individually act up on occasion in ways that could be ignored. They engaged in a violent and bloody act of rebellion. The Fall wasn’t about the small sins; it was about the big one. They messed up the furniture. They had to go. Aziraphale’s not messing up the furniture—yet. By the time he starts, it will be far too late for Heaven to do anything to stop him.
See, that smile at the end of S2E6? It’s not pleasure at taking charge, and it’s not determination to fix Heaven. It’s a mask. Aziraphale spent that elevator ride bottling up his pain and hiding it down deep. Anxiety children become adults who are masters of repression, and he just went through his whole panic attack and packed away his grief in the elevator, while holding a straight face (a very tense, grief-stricken face—it’s all there in the micro-expressions, or rather, the desperate attempt at suppression of all macro- and micro-expressions, about which I could write a whole separate post—but essentially a straight face nonetheless). I would bet my immortal soul that he put on that smile right when the elevator stopped, just before the doors started to open. Heaven is about to learn the hard way why choosing Aziraphale was their fatal mistake. Because the Bastard Angel is broken and angry, and he’s done with their bullshit rules and their plastic-covered furniture. Maybe he pushed Crowley away to protect him. Maybe he really wanted Crowley to come with him to try to change things from the inside. None of that matters. All of the maybes that happened before Metatron came back to collect Aziraphale are irrelevant. Because Metatron doesn’t understand Aziraphale, and he just tipped his hand when he spoke the words “Second Coming.” Aziraphale has long since realized that Heaven is toxic—that’s what he wants to fix—but until that moment he didn’t have the context Crowley had to know why Gabriel left. But he has just learned that his love, his heart, and his world are in mortal danger, and he will stop at nothing to save them. Heaven hath no fury like an angel with a broken heart.
Aziraphale has never worried that Crowley was ever made to forget him. He’s intelligent and observant. He noted that initial un-introduction (and was even a bit disappointed by it), so he knows why Crowley doesn’t remember his name when they meet on the wall of Eden. Their coded-language dance around the depth of their association has never been about fear of rejection over imagined faults but rather the very real threats from their respective Home Offices, which they are too wary to immediately forget even after thwarting Armageddon and their own executions. (They are right not to trust that sense of peace!) It has taken them four years to let down their guards even the tiniest bit, and they are still speaking in code—hence the ball: It's Aziraphale's confession of love without saying the words out loud, because it still doesn't feel entirely safe. And he’s not going to Heaven to throw himself on some sacrificial alter to fix a mistake he thinks he made 6000 years ago by failing to keep an angel who barely acknowledged him from falling in with the rest of the Rebel Host. He’s just doing what he’s always done: trying his best to protect the innocent from Heaven’s caprice.
Only this time, he knows his own heart is innocent too.
#good omens#good omens theory#rebuttal#good omens spoilers#good omens season 2#aziraphale#crowley#the metatron#angry angel#anxious angel#bastard angel#disaster puppy#no nightingales#this started as a rebuttal post and got out of hand#this post is a six-headed hydra#anxiety and hyperfocus really do explain everything#yes by HIS OWN HEART I mean the HEART THEY SHARE#this is a revised version of an earlier post
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PART 2 Souls coming together
Ascended Vampire Duke!Astarion x human!reader
(Intertwined with a mortal continuation read part one here)
Warnings: Olden times, age gap, lots of feels, angst, working through trauma, tension, sexual, oral f-receiving, marriage, Astarions trauma and issues, body shaming, harassment, anxiety’s and depression, lotta issues xD
Previous part <-
After the party you felt an eagerness to get home, wanting the comforts of your room, but also having the duke visiting. Gods your thoughts went sinful, you quickly changed then as you arrived home. You said your goodnights, not wanting to talk about what happened to your parents. You told your servant to leave you also and she did with a sad smile. You sat in front of your mirror staring at yourself, hating how everything felt bigger, uglier the longer you stared. You looked away with a small noise of disgust before you turned to your painting, it was two lovers, dancing in the garden at night. You sagged a bit trying to find the pins in your hair before you jumped at a voice.
“Let me” you looked in the mirror and saw no one, you glanced behind you and saw the duke. You nodded letting your hands rest in your lap as you felt him pull the four pins out that were holding your hair. You felt your cheeks go warm and glanced in the mirror again, odd seeing your hair move almost on its own. You felt him move your hair to the side, undoing the silver necklace you had and laying it on the table before he moved to your earrings. This felt oddly intimate as he laid the earrings on the table and grabbed your brush.
“I thought we were going to talk” you stopped him, speaking in a hushed tone.
“You reek of anxiety’s, I know this soothes some women” he said and for some reason you found yourself jealous and frowning. You snatched your hair brush back and laid it on the table turning to him.
“I don’t need to calm down” you said standing up as he smirked.
“Speak!” You huffed at him and he raised an eyebrow.
“You suggested this since you care now” you crumbled and his gaze hardened and his brows furrowed.
“The lady’s what do they say?” He asked and you tensed.
“Can you not hear them?” You said, didn’t he have super hearing or something.
“Darling it’s hard to focus when you’re in my arms and your heart pounds in my ear” he said smirking and you found yourself flushed.
“Doesn’t matter then” you said struggling with your dress ties, finding it hard to breathe.
“It’s upsetting you a great deal so it does matter and my alternative wouldn’t be appropriate” he said softly by your ear making you shudder as you felt his hands untie your dress.
“What alternative?” You dared asked.
“Murder” he said simply and your mouth hung open and you glanced to him.
“What are you doing?” You slapped his hands away holding the dress up.
“You are uncomfortable in this clothing” he stated and you sighed pinching the bridge of your nose.
“This is something a husband does! Not you!” You snapped quietly.
“Get out, just go away, this was an excellent talk, please leave” you gestured to the door seeing his frown briefly as you avoided his Ruby eyes.
“What do they say?” He asked voice firm and ordering, it made you shudder.
“Things Astarion!” You snapped again.
“Duke Ancunin” you quickly corrected, cheeks hot from embarrassment.
“In the future don’t ask me to dance” you said suddenly and he froze.
“Clearly this” you gestured between you both.
“Is just-“ you struggled with words and he growled lips capturing yours quickly in a possessive kiss. you whimpered softly your omega side instantly submitting despite your feelings. His hands went to your hips, pulling you flush against him while your hands held his biceps.
“I will do, what I please, with my mate” he muttered against your lips before he moved down to kiss your jaw then your neck. Your heart fluttered as one of his hands slid up your waist and the other went to lift your thigh, holding your leg against him. Your body felt like it was on fire as you struggled to breathe properly. His fangs caressed your skin and you shuddered gripping his arm tightly. You felt excitement light up in your body as he gently sucked, but didn’t pierce the skin. He let out a raspy breath against your skin and you felt him shudder under your touch before he pulled back, your leg slipping from his hold. You frowned, something in his eyes glazed over and his face looked scared.
“Duke Ancunin?” You asked softly as he looked to you, but it felt like he was stuck in his mind.
“Astarion?” You said softly lifting a hand to cup his cheek. He flinched though and you frowned softly before trying again, successful this time.
“Where are you?” you whispered in question softly, his eyes focused back and he frowned stepping away from you quickly. He was gone in an instant, a grey mist remnant in place of where he was before it faded quickly. You stood confused and flushed what had he been thinking?
Next part ->
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Human!Muzan x Maid!Reader NSFW HC SHORT!!
A/N: Sorry for not being active I've been trying out my other hobbies. I'm still getting a lot of support so thank you! I have some stuff on the way I hope y'all will stay tuned for it :3. Here's some food for y'all
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌You’re muzans maid not his wife or loved one. You’re directly below him and you better remember that. Muzan makes it a point to remind you that he doesn’t like you but, he slightly hates you less than everyone else.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌You know he doesn’t mean a word of what he says, if he did he wouldn’t be begging for you in the middle of the night.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌It started off simple, his hands would magically find their way to your breast while giving him medicine. It was as if Muzan was testing you to see how far you would let him go. Eventually he asked to see your breast and everything progressed from there.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌ Hand jobs where next, then tit jobs, then blow jobs and then full blown sex.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌Do to his illness he cannot last long at all, after one round he’s whipped out. Usually you ride him sense he cannot necessarily bend you over.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌At first you weren’t the biggest fan of this but soon you realized how much control you had. Often times he finished before you and you’re left unsatisfied. You used to just clean him up then take care of yourself, but surely he can take it a little longer.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌He Doesn’t like cumming in you he doesn’t like the thought of having kids, especially with a peasant. Muzan prefers cumming on your face it makes him feel like he’s in control.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌Very vocal in bed, he whimpers and begs a lot. It’s mostly insults and demands
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌ You of course have your own needs that have to be fulfilled. You often find yourself continually riding him after he’s came and is begging you to give him a break.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌His hands squeeze your thighs while you continue to ride him. His begging will slowly turn into incoherent babbling. It’s cute honestly, to see tears and drool drip down his face.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌Afterwards Muzan will yell at you for making him cum inside of you and that you’re “a witch trying to suck the life out of me!”.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌The best way to shut him up is to sit on his face. He’ll bitch and complain but you cannot here any of it. His muffling sends vibrations to your clit making you grind against his face more.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌Muzan says that he doesn’t like to eat you out but y’know he’s lying. He gets harder from your weight and tights crushing his head. He thinks it’s a great way to die.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌The wildest thing you’ve ever done was fuck In front of his potential wife.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌You didn’t want to lose him, so you had to show this woman who she is going up against.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌You had him in your lap one hand gripping his face, making sure he was looking at her directly in the eye. The other was jerking him off. His moans filled the room as he could barely contain himself.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌needless to say that woman never came back and you got to keep Muzan to yourself.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌Muzan doesn’t do after care, he’s usually busy trying not to pass out. You drag the babbling teary eyed Muzan to the bath. You take excellent care of him.
◌𓆩☽❀☾𓆪◌You place him in your lap, applying soap to his hair and kisses to his neck. He wakes up nice and clean and with a lot of hickeys.
——-
A/N: sorry this was short but I want to work on other fics at the moment! I hope This was good enough :3
#demon slayer#kimetsu no yaiba#kny#ds#muzan#muzan x reader#muzan kibutsuji#muzan kibutsuji x reader#demon slayer x reader#Human!Muzan
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What are your thoughts on letting go of the ego? I've been reading into non-dualism and thought I was getting a better understanding who I am as God/consciousness. But some people have said you have to completely drop the ego in order for consciously create things effortlessly. And by dropping it I also drop all desires/fears attached to the ego. Is that the same thing as not identifying with our human selves and accepting that everything is already perfect? Like maybe I'm misunderstanding but it almost sounds like they're saying to learn to be indifferent to whatever circumstances our human selves are going through to the point where there is no desire to change it. At that point, its like just accept whatever it is you're going through and deal with it, like we were doing before finding out about manifesting, which is something I really don't want to do lol.
Excellent question and I have so many thoughts to share surrounding the subject of the egoself. My thoughts about the concept of "letting go of the ego" are completely different from the majority rule.
First of all, I want to clarify here that consciousness is not the true self. Your true self as God is total, unconditioned awareness. This is your Higher Self.
Awareness is unchanging, pure, and objective. That absolute awareness of existing and experiencing life through your eyes is who/what you really are behind the manifestation of this elaborate human disguise.
Consciousness is only a dual state of mind attached to your personal sense/perception of yourself as an individual. States of consciousness are an entirely subjective lens of perception and they can change.
You are not consciousness. Consciousness is a state of mind with an identity attached to it.
You are not the mind and you are not the body.
Awareness is the creative power of divine creation operating through your dominant state of perception according to your own sense of identity as an individual in the human experience.
Now that we have gotten all that jazz out of the way:
Onto answering your question.
People who teach others to "kill the ego" and push them to completely strip away their sense of humanity are perpetuating such a harmful, destructive mentality for anyone learning the nature of nonduality. The constant push for demonizing and villainizing the egoself goes against what it truly means to be living from spiritual self-awareness.
It is so ridiculously harmful and unreasonable to tell others to deny their human selves and detach from the human experience. The whole paradox of it all is that people who want you to destroy your sense of humanity and "kill the ego" are operating from the mind of the egoself instead of a spiritual mind.
Not to mention, by detaching from the egoself, so many things about the human experience would lose its incredible beauty and deeper meanings:
loving relationships, forming deep and meaningful connections with others, falling madly in love, living with passion in your veins, and embracing the whole magnificence of living in existence.
All of those treasures and those little moments to live for in life would completely lose its meaning and beauty. By completely detaching yourself from your sense of humanity, life would seem meaningless, pointless, and those special moments would no longer be exciting because you would realize that it's all just a clever game of awakening to your true self.
If experiences in life feel meaningless, dull, and pointless: why the hell would anyone want to embrace the human experience? Everything in life would feel as though nothing matters anymore.
As spiritual beings, we should want to embrace the incredible beauty of this manifested existence after awakening to our divine true self. The human experience was a desire for God to experience what it would be like to live as a human.
I think the notion that we must completely detach from our human selves is absolutely preposterous and ignorant of what it truly means to live from a spiritually awakened mind. These ridiculous concepts that so many people blindly accept defeat the purpose of what it means to be spiritually awake.
Imagine throwing any and all attachment to your sense of human identity away? And all for what?
To please a whole bunch of bloggers who push you to deny the existence of your human aspects?
The same bloggers who feed you bullshit lies about this incredible human experience that God: the creator of *all existence* manifested into the flesh "being just meaningless and pointless"?
Be honest with yourself: Is that what you truly want?
You can have the best of both worlds with the egoself and the God state of mind working in balanced harmony to open up a blissful, heavenly experience for you after awakening.
We are here as a manifestation in human form to simply enjoy and embrace the existence that we created as God with open arms.
Life is beautiful. This existence is meant to be treasured and cherished for all the beauty it holds.
There is absolutely no need to attack the ego or destroy it. The ego should be left alone, completely.
Now to the next point:
Your focus should never be on the egoself.
The priority here is meant to be on transforming your sense of perception of yourself after you discover the absolute divinity of your true self.
The main focus of nonduality and spiritual awakening is to transform your perception of yourself from victimhood to the confident God state of mind. Leave the ego alone, entirely.
When you are operating from your true self as God then you allow your egoself to naturally be guided and aligned with your Higher Self.
The egoself and your Higher Self are meant to be in balanced unity with each other as the confident God state of mind takes the reigns of your perception.
Your egoself and God state simply work together in harmony as one for you to experience a deeper, and more fulfilled appreciation for your own experiences in your life after awakening to God itself having a real human experience.
This is where true bliss and inner peace comes in.
When you are living from the spiritual consciousness of truly knowing yourself as God then you are able to embrace the absolute beauty and treasure of the human experience from an inner state of bliss, freedom, and peace. This is true enlightenment.
Every day would be blissful and peaceful as you operate from the awareness of your divine inner power and your true self's identity as God to create the ultimate reality of your dreams.
As a bonus, you would find yourself being able to form deeper, and more meaningful connections with others. The type of intense connections that align together on a deeply transcendent, spiritual level.
You would be experiencing Heaven on Earth all the time and you would experience an intensified, deeper appreciation for the human experience. You would realize this manifested existence is such a gift.
Last thing I want to leave you with:
When you operate from the God state of mind then your conscious manifestation journey is ultimately transformed into a Heavenly paradise as you find yourself living from inner confidence and trust in your own ability to create.
Turn within and listen to your heart.
You do not ever need to sacrifice your egoself in order to embrace your true self as God and manifest the reality of your dreams with ease.
Don't listen to others telling you otherwise, you make the decision. You are God in human form.
Your reality, your decision.
#reality warping#law of being#reality creation#awareness#law of awareness#manifesting#law of creation#nondualism#manifestation#consciousness#nonduality
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bi-widower-dads' February Fic Recs: Canon
Thank you to everyone who submitted recs for us! We've done some sorting and collating, and we've got two posts for you: AUs and Canon-'verse - and a whole load of excellent fic for you to get stuck into while we wait for Barduil Month in April! Without further ado, here are the canon fic recs, featuring tags, links, summaries, and all the reasons why the recommenders think you should give these fics a try!
Header image by mod @piyo-13!
(a note about tags and trigger warnings: tags are selected from those on AO3 as being those that best describe the story for the purposes of this event; trigger warnings are supplied by the recommenders and may not be comprehensive - your mileage may vary. We've tried our best to include Tumblr handles wherever we can, but if we've missed yours out and you want it included, just let us know!)
One-shots
Scenes From a Not-So-Clandestine Romance by MasterofAllImagination / @cutlerbeckettt | G | 3258 words | tags: 5+1 things, so much fluff it's sickening, seriously don't even read this
Summary: As the relationship between Bard and Thranduil grows beyond merely that of two allies, they become proportionately blind to how obvious their displays of affection are to their people. Pretty soon their feelings are an open secret shared among everyone in Mirkwood and Dale-- except the kings themselves.
(or, five times someone caught Bard and Thranduil secretly kissing, and the one time they did it in public)
What do you love about this fic? The author's completely correct that this is just So Much Fluff. It's great, it's cozy, it's a palate cleanser that makes you go "aww" and giggle a little at how oblivious they are.
We'll lay here for years or for hours by bispecimen | M | 5000 words | tags: canon divergence, different first meeting, animal death, hunting, could be considered canon compliant since it still works w future events, dilf vs dilf parenting techniques, canon-typical violence
Summary: "The leaves were rolling, green and healthy. Swirling around the legs of the Bowman as if they were about to bring some magical creature in his presence. But Bard didn’t feel like anything good was about to be brought in front of his eyes. The stillness of the air was suffused with something nocive. This part was forbidden for a reason. The deeper he went, the longer he stayed. He knew, he knew that."
What do you love about this fic? Am possibly biased because I did the art for this, but lovely and lyrical!
but the sun is eclipsed by the moon by RC_McLachlan | G | 5288 words | tags: none
Summary: The Battle of the Five Armies threatened to unmake the world, but The Negotiations of the Three Kings might actually succeed.
Or, a short lesson on the lifecycle of dandelions.
What do you love about this fic? Great writer I've followed for a long time!
more than words can wield the matter by BiSquared / @scary-grace | M | 5422 words | tags: cultural differences, love letters, miscommunication, accidental marriage, getting together, laws and customs of the eldar are somewhat followed, POV Bard the Bowman, post-BotFA, as canon-compliant as barduil gets
Summary: It might be uncommon, but Bard knows it’s not unheard of for humans to share a single night of passion and part ways in the morning – or if not to part ways, then at least never to meet as lovers again. Apparently it’s unheard of among elves, because the first letter that arrives from Mirkwood, two weeks after the elves’ departure for their forest, is significantly less businesslike than expected.
What do you love about this fic? The premise is funny enough that it could have come across as crack, but it creates actual narrative tension and a satisfactorily cathartic ending.
The Well-Worn Path of Words by Ias | T | 10,725 words | tags: letters, slow burn, pining, miscommunication, love confessions, epistolary
Summary: It wasn't so strange that Thranduil would call him a friend. And yet the word seemed to draw them closer like a length of string, binding them together, yet still so fragile.
[In which Thranduil and Bard begin writing each other letters over the long winter after the battle.]
What do you love about this fic? Fantastic epistolary fic from a great Barduil author!
Multi-chapter (in progress)
Language of the Forest by BaccaratBlack | T | 1,095 words | tags: victorian flower language, sort of unrequited feelings, cultural differences, cultural misunderstandings, courtship, secret admirer
Summary: Bard is perplexed by elven courtship rituals. Thranduil is very determined and unaccustomed to not having his way.
What do you love about this fic? Who doesn't like a fic with the themes of courtship, flowers and a "secret" admirer?
Multi-chapter (complete)
A Tale of Love and Longing (as told by Galion) by jotunblood | T | 39,288 words | tags: courtship, secret relationship, developing relationship, sexual tension, light angst, post-BotFA, slow burn, Galion POV, Galion is a good friend
Summary: Galion knew all the almost imperceptible ways joy, anguish, and hate could change his King’s face. He also knew-- Thranduil’s denial be damned-- exactly how he looked when he was pining.
What do you love about this fic? We see Thranduil's and Bard's relationship develop through Galion's POV and he's the best BFF/Wing Man a King could ask for.
Blossoming Spring by SlytherinImpala | T | 56,210 words | tags: fluff, post-BotFA, snark, slow burn, healing, friends to lovers, scars, movie canon, first kiss, getting together
Summary: Bard and Thranduil meet again as winter gives way to spring following of the Battle of Five Armies.
What do you love about this fic? I love the gentle snarkiness between the 2 characters and how they slowly learn to open up to one another. They feel very in character and when they fall in love it doesn't feel abrupt. Definitely worth a read if you love a gentle Barduil slowburn.
Series
The Kings of the North by Evandar | T | 14,240 words | tags: partial fix-it, interspecies romance, fluff, blind thranduil, self-esteem issues, communication
Summary: There is unease in the north, as old alliances must be rebuilt and leadership learned. Bard is confused, mostly by King Thranduil, and King Fili is determined to be the best king he can be. Sigrid, meanwhile, wishes things could go back to the way they were.
What do you love about this fic? This was one of the first series I ever read for barduil and definitely played a huge role in getting me into the ship in the first place!
Boundaries 'Verse by Sir_Nemo | T | 30,967 words | tags: fluff, getting to know each other, getting together, family bonding
Summary: Bard has been working for the elves for years, never actually meeting one, until one day he notices an elf watching him work.
The elf becomes a constant in his life, and the two of them slowly start warming up to each other.
What do you love about this fic? Bard and Thranduil's personalities really shine through in their conversations, which I feel is a core component of the plot, and makes for a very stable relationship that the story can lean on.
#barduilmonth2024#barduil month fic rec february#fic recs#the hobbit#the hobbit fanfiction#the hobbit fanfic#barduil#bard/thranduil#barduil fic recs#long post
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Step By Step Through the Closet Door
First of all, I want to apologize for not breaking this with images and gifs. There's no excuse 🫣
Now, I've read all the excellent commentary coming out of ep 11. I believe it's all valid and there are points to be made all around. I don't have the knowledge or experience to comment on pacing, editing, and certain directorial choices. But I do want to say something in favor of the story the show is telling.
This is a different story than we're used to, and it's told in a different way. It takes some getting used to, but where I'm from this type of storytelling is used a lot. This is showing things the way they are to the point of annoyance. I think that what causes all the confusion and frustration is the fact that the show lets each character exist separately from one another. There is no cohesiveness because life has no cohesiveness. The characters act and react according to their own separate sets of rules as opposed to each other. I know that some will see it as bad storytelling, and it's no excuse, but imo it has its benefits when trying to tell a story about people.
MY CASE FOR JENG and Pat
Jeng has been consistent throughout. Everything he does is because his entire being is linked to the company. He never makes mistakes. He always puts the business first. His entire philosophy of "life and work should be combined" is his reality. He has no freedom. He's had to hide who he is as a person, not only his sexuality because he always needs to represent.
As for the money, it's not the first time he did it. We're told in the beginning that he's been keeping the department alive with his own money. The only thing in his dad's company that is actually his is that department, and fighting to keep it is fighting to keep his sense of self. That department became his identity, so he will do anything to keep it alive. This is about Jeng v. his father. This is about Jeng becoming his own person.
So how does Pat fit into all of this? Well, Jeng being 100% business 100% of the time, he sees Pat's talent and he finds it super attractive. Sure, he finds Pat cute and attractive when they first meet, but his interest in him grows when he sees his talent and potential.
In his mind, Pat is a driving force through this. He finds Pat and he feels that he finally has an ally. However, this has nothing to do with who Pat is. This is the idea of Pat, not Pat himself. He does with Pat what he does with work - he makes him part of his identity and links him to the department. So Pat is no longer a separate human being, but another aspect of Jeng. Pat becomes the part of Jeng's personality that fights to keep the department alive. Which makes him the logical choice to be his successor as the head of department. Losing one of them (department or Pat) means losing his identity as a man separate from his father and the company.
As for Pat, he has his own shit to deal with. He needs to work in a toxic work environment and face gossip that is typically reserved for women, who are usually the target of this kind of gossip precisely because of their sexuality. Pat needs to end things with Jeng because he can't deal with it. Love is not magic. Love can't fix society. Outside pressure can and does break relationships when the people in that relationship are unable to stand together.
Pat and Jeng cannot stand together at this point in their story because they exist in two separate worlds. Their realities and the way they experience life are so different and separate from what the other is experience, to say the least.
THE QUEER REALITY OF IT ALL
That intervention/interrogation scene was way too personal. Even if you've never been interrogated about your sexuality, or had to defend it, just sitting in a room where people talk about your sexuality as if you're not there is not a fun experience, to say the least.
Having to justify yourself all the time to everyone because of who you like. Having to sit in a room where YOU are being scrutinized for your entire being just because of your sexuality is something that queer people experience all the time. Straight people will have lengthy discussions about others' sexuality in a way that I haven’t experienced in queer spaces. They will expect us to live up to tropes and stereotypes, and if we don't, they will be disappointed because it's not what they were promised (I'm sorry, but this is hitting very close to home). This is the reality of being different in a way that most society can't understand. If there is something to say in favor of this show is that these moments are represented so accurately that it's sometimes painful to watch.
STEPPING OUT OF THE CLOSET
This is a story about closets more than anything. Not only in the queer sense, but anyone who needs to hide who they are for "the greater good" knows what it's like. When you need to hide parts of yourself, for any reason, it's easy to lose touch with who you really are.
Being outed for the benefit of others OR How straight people talk about other sexualities.
We can all agree that Pat is not in the closet. But throughout the show, he goes through the experience of being outed three times - first when he has no choice but to out himself because of toxic male co-worker. The second time, his relationship with Jeng is outed for political gain. Then, a much more public outing of his relationship with Put. So, we're starting with a one-on-one outing, through people in the more extended environment, and finally nationwide exposure. By the end of ep 11, he has no control over who is allowed into his private affairs, and none of these outings were even about him. These were all cases of him being outed for the benefit of others. (re: straights discussing queer sexuality as though there are no queer people in the room).
Your closet is serving life
Jeng lives in the closet. Not only his sexuality is closeted, but his entire personality. He's had to maintain this public persona for so long that he has no idea who he is. His every move is dictated by his need to maintain his image for the sake of the company. He can't afford to protect Pat because he is on the job 24/7. Having Pat in his life forces him to deal with new situations. It's the first time he finds himself in a dilemma where he has to choose between the company and the person he loves, and he chooses the company because the closet is locked from the outside. The only thing that's truly his is the digital marketing department. Saving the department is saving himself. For him, it means protecting himself as well as protecting Pat. So, this is life and death for him. Even when he's called for the "intervention" with management, then with his father, and questioned about his sexuality, the only thing he can do is protect the department. Pat and the department are one because they are both his identity.
To each their own closet
Chot must keep his relationship in the closet and is at the mercy of his partner. He has no choice but to hope that one day he will be allowed to be out in his relationship. Which we were all happy to see happen!
Jaab and Jen had to hide their feelings and flirt in secret because of Jen's relationship. After that ended and they had the chance to be out, Jaab chose to run because he can't deal with actually getting what he wants (I have things to say about that as well, but it will have to be a separate post).
Beam has closeted his feelings for Ae. He chose to hide and had to watch from inside the closet, how someone else is living the life he wants for himself.
And finally Ying, who had to hide her fujoshi side.
These stories can't come together and form a complete story, because they exist separately from one another. Even Jeng and Pat exist separately from one another, each in his own story without the ability to connect, because they exist in separate worlds.
If you got this far, I seriously thank you for sticking this out. I hope this makes sense, and again this is only how I read what this show is giving us...
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