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lovelybluebirdie · 4 months

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Blood whispers

Astarion x gn!Reader

Summary: On the night you almost killed him, Astarion promised to help you overcome your urges. When they suddenly threaten to overwhelm you again, he needs to take care of you.

Word Count: 2,8k

no warnings, hurt/comfort, fluff

AO3

Travelling across the shadow-cursed lands had provided Astarion some valuable knowledge. Not only had he learned the meanings of the scars on his back, it was also revealed that the scheme behind the tadpole in his brain was far greater than he had initially anticipated.

These discoveries alone should have been enough to keep him adequately occupied, yet there had been another novelty: for the first time in his life he had developed genuine affection for someone. Namely for you, the softhearted adventurer with an undeniable saviour-complex. You had filled his chest with an unfamiliar warmth and therefore led him to great confusion - at least until his constant brooding had left the inevitable conclusion that you meant far more to him than a solely guarantee for his safety.

His plan with you had been calculated to serve his own needs. He needed protection, so he had aimed to lure you into a selfish alliance by gaining your trust and using his charm to get you on his side.

As it turned out, this simple little plan of his had fallen apart rather quickly: not only had he come to truly care about you, he had also openly admitted these feelings to you. To his surprise, you had shared that you felt the same.

Even though Astarion wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing with you half the time or where all of this was leading - being with you was astonishingly nice.

From the moment Astarion had told you about his failed plan, you had decided to be with each other without sleeping together. For the past centuries, sex had been merely a tool for him to collect victims for his former master, so it still brought up feelings of loath and disgust.

With you, he experienced that there was more to intimacy than sex.

At first, the thought of forming a sincere connection had terrified him. What was he to do with you, and how could he be close to you in a real way - in a way that mattered?

But somehow, you made it easy for him.

You had been considerate not to overwhelm him with your affection. It had been small steps: a single grasp for his hand, some soft kisses in the safety of your blanket or a heartfelt embrace in between all the fights and mischief that paved the way along your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles.

Sometimes you would read to him, his head resting comfortably in your lap, while your fingers formed circles through his curls. He adored the feeling of your body close against his back, leaving the sensation of your warm hands on his chest the last thing he would remember before he would fall into his nightly trance.

You made him feel safe, and he found himself positively enjoying your time together.

Of course there had also been that other night.

That night, when the fear over losing you to your darkness had scared Astarion more than any torture his former master could have ever inflicted on him.

You had woken him with a vigorous shake, eyes wide open and sheer panic in your voice. “We don’t have much time,” you would say, almost swallowing your tongue. “I’m going to kill the person I care about most – and it is you.”

Flattery aside, the threat of being murdered by his lover posed a fairly unpleasant way to be brought from his rest, so Astarion was forced to act fast.

You had spent the night with your wrists tied up while he watched over you, ensuring that you faced no harm. On the next morning you were yourself again, but the whole ordeal had left its mark on both of you.

And that was another thing about you: despite being the kindest person Astarion had ever met, you were also the only one that was cursed to unwillingly bring a great deal of murder and despair into this world.

Those violent urges would occasionally infest your mind with a strong yearn to kill and destroy. Gruesome thoughts, suddenly engulfing you with malicious intent - their origin unknown to you. When you resisted them, they would usually fade as quickly as they came, leaving you with a throbbing headache.

One might say that those were not exactly the best circumstances for a blossoming relationship, but Astarion was not particularly impressed by such assumptions. In fact, he had learnt that there was a certain comfort in sharing the burden of internal turmoil. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had found himself drawn to you from the moment you had met.

Besides, Astarion was confident that you would find a way to rid yourself from these aggravating compulsions for good. After all, he had promised you on that fateful night - and even if he might exaggerate at times, he had meant every single word.

A light breeze rustled through the trees and brought him back from his thoughts. He sat next to his tent with a book in his hands and relished the last beams the sun would offer that day. The warmth was pleasant on his skin, especially after the long march that was behind him.

You and the rest of your companions had left the shadowlands a few days ago and were now heading towards Baldur’s Gate. After hiking through dense forests and small villages, you had decided it was time to make camp and continue your travels after dawn.

It was unusually quiet today. Perhaps the others were taking some time for themselves as well, he thought. You would probably gather around the fire later this evening, sharing some tales over a bottle of wine or discussing the next steps lying ahead of you.

Astarion let his gaze wander, back from the other tents to a more secluded spot, where he found you. You were sitting in the grass, holding one arm out in front of you with a loaf of bread beside your feet. A small bird with bright orange feathers was fluttering excitedly around you. It seemed like you were about to toss it some crumbs, and it was impatiently waiting to get its beak full.

Astarion rolled his eyes. Typical. You would probably even share your food with some random animal if it meant starving yourself.

Then again, it was also kind of adorable, he thought as his lips inevitably turned into a grin.

As he continued to watch you from afar, he realised that something was off about you. You weren't moving at all.

That was odd.

Your arm looked too stiff, slightly cramped even, and as he squinted his eyes to get a better look, he could see that your hand was clenched into a fist. It was as if you were forcing yourself to hold the position.

Astarion’s senses immediately sharpened.

He got up with haste, carelessly tossing his book aside and lunged towards you while calling out your name.

This was bad.

Uneasiness spread over his body like a rash, before he could even pinpoint what was going on with you.

“My love, are you al-” The sentence stuck in his throat as he finally came to see you up close.

Your mouth was twitching, contorting your soft features into a grotesque grimace. You looked nothing like your usual self.

Astarion had seen this expression on you before.

His thoughts started to race, as he prepared himself to force you to the ground if necessary. He had no rope on him to restrain you, but in lack of a better solution his laces would have to do.

In any case, he would not let that thing take control over you.

He reached for your shoulder, bracing himself for the worst - but before he could grab you, your features already started to relax.

You must have snapped out of it. This was you again.

You let your stiffened arm hang down and opened your fist, spilling the remaining crumbs on the floor. Instead of picking them up, the bird hastily flew away. Even the creature must have sensed that something was off.

Astarion let himself sink next to you in the grass and sighed. The danger had passed, it had not taken you.

“I wanted to feed it, I swear,” you explained between quivering lips. “But - my wretched brain almost made me kill this poor little thing.” Your hands were trembling, a deep misery resonating within your words.

A thick lump formed in Astarion’s throat as he noticed tears started to glisten in your eyes.

“I know, my love,” he said and rested his hand on your shoulder. “But remember, this isn’t you. And you brought the bird no harm.”

You swallowed hard and fixated him with your gaze.

“Yes, this time. But what if I couldn’t have stopped myself? What if I would have killed it - just like that, without any other reason than my sick thoughts ordering me to?”

“Well, in that case…, “ Astarion replied and tapped his chin, “I assume Gale would have served you some poultry tonight. And I would’ve been glad to depend on blood for a chance, since you’d probably have to fight over that unfortunate little thing. I mean you have to admit, to fill the stomachs of our dear friends you should have aimed for something more substantial to mangle.”

Astarion was no fool. This wasn’t just about you hypothetically killing that bird. Your urges evidently didn’t spare other living beings as well - including himself. This was serious, and yet he felt the need to cheer you up over some silly remark, as you would often find solace in your shared banter. While it was certainly not his best attempt to brighten the mood, it was an attempt nonetheless.

To his satisfaction, you huffed a quick chuckle that finally caused the tears in your eyes to spill over.

“You’re pretty macabre, you know that?” you scolded and slightly shook your head.

“Am I now? Darling, I’m hurt,” he exclaimed in exaggerated dismay, before a genuine fondness took over his voice. “But honestly, I’m truly proud of you. I can only imagine the force that overwhelms you in those moments, and yet… You’ve proven more than once that you’re stronger than this.” He let his fingers gently brush over the wetness covering your cheeks.

The gravity of the situation appeared to reclaim you with pressing weight, wiping off the faint smile at his clumsy attempt. You turned your head away from him.

“Astarion… I understand if you would hate me for this.” It was no more than a mumble coming from you, but enough to take Astarion aback.

He gave his answer fast, almost instinctive.

“No, I could never hate you.”

It was true. That he could never, not when there was so much about you to love. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to say this out loud to you, not yet at least.

Instead, a tight knot formed in his chest, as he watched your eyes focusing the space between your feet while you let out a quiet sob.

“My love, look at me.” He spoke softly as he reached out for you. With the utmost tenderness, he cupped your face in his hands and made your eyes meet his. “The other night, when you almost drenched my curls in a veil of the beautiful red of my blood, I made you a promise. You remember, don’t you?”

You nodded with your face still resting between his slender hands, as another quiet sob spilled from your lips.

“Good. And I mean it still. We will get you through whatever the hells this is. We are in this together.”

His voice trembled despite the honesty that fueled his words. Astarion had no intention to abandon you, the same way you had sworn to help him with his own demons. But this was not about him, this was about you.

You shifted a little closer and wrapped your arms around him - tentatively, almost hesitant at first, until you drew him into a tight embrace.

Your body was warm and pleasant against his, and he would let you hold him - not only because you needed this, but because he wanted to.

“It's okay my sweet, I’ve got you,” he whispered while he cradled you in his arms and let his lips graze against your temple.

Your fingers clutched the collar of his shirt while he breathed words of comfort over the sobs that escaped your throat.

For now, there was no need for anything else, only him holding you while you cried.

Had he not already sworn to rid you of this affliction, he would tell you over and over again like a broken record, until he made sure that every inch of your body was certain about it.

Eventually you would clear your throat and look up to him. Your face was still wet from your tears, but there was also a glimmer of hope to be found.

“Thank you. For believing in the good in me, I mean. Despite all of this.”

“Well, who else would I believe in if not my brave little fool over here?” Astarion said and put a quick kiss to your hair. “Besides, I have no intention of dying again, so ridding yourself from this murderous condition might align with that rather splendidly.”

Your lips curled to a smile, only to be immediately disrupted by a pained groan that left your mouth and made you wince in Astarion’s arms.

“How bad is it?” he asked with concern as he glanced at you.

Another wince. “Honestly? Like my skull was split open with an axe,” you replied with a sharp exhale. “But it’s not the worst I ever had. I’m sure it’ll pass any minute.”

You pushed your fingers to your eyes and stretched your neck upwards, causing Astarion to doubt your words.

He knew that those headaches came with your affliction. Sometimes they would dissolve rather quickly, other times they got so worse that you had to lie down and he would fetch you a cloth drenched in the coldest water he could gather.

The urgent need to comfort you rose in him again, so he put his hands on your face and slowly pulled you towards him until he could feel your breath on his skin. Then he carefully rested his brow against yours.

That was the best he could think of for now. He closed his eyes and felt your familiar warmth spreading onto him, hoping that he would spend you some soothing coldness.

You remained like this for a moment, the only sound coming from your steady breath.

Astarion eventually lifted his brow and placed the softest kiss on its former place, right where he assumed your pain was sitting. With his hands, he reached for the back of your neck, giving it a gentle massage.

Your eyes remained closed while you let out a silent moan. You seemed to relax from his touch, the dampness on your skin bathing your handsome features in a light shimmer.

There was this sensation again, something Astarion only had with you. A prickling flutter, spreading from his chest all over his body.

What had you done to him that made him so blissfully light and at the same time would completely sweep him off his feet? Had his heart still pumped blood, Astarion was sure it would beat up to his neck right now.

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” His adoration made him almost stumble over his words, but he needed you to hear them.

Then he kissed the tip of your nose, before his lips would finally find yours. You tasted soft and sweet, making him longing to have more of you. Heat rose to his ears as his tongue gently curled around yours, while your hand stroked through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He couldn’t stop his lips from forming a loving smile over your pleasant warmth, before they met yours again for another tender kiss. There was no tadpole, no Cazador, nor the darkness in you. This moment belonged to you and him alone - and every touch was right.

He finished your kiss with another quick peck to your forehead and cleared his throat. “I do rather like that, you know.”

“That’s pretty convenient,” you whispered with fondness in your eyes, “because I think that actually helped. My head feels light again.”

“I'm glad,” Astarion murmured with relief. “Is there anything else you need? Just tell me, and I’ll get it for you.”

“For now, all I need is your presence,” you replied before resting your hand on his cheek. “Knowing that you'll stay with me.”

“Of course, my love,” Astarion assured as he graciously sunk against your palm. “You’re not alone in this, you have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

And it was true. It was a promise, after all.

Masterlist

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gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

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this isnt thag detailed but can i request percy jackson x reader (platonic) where they first meet (as well as with annabeth since she was with him at the time I think) for the first time in the labyrinth and turns out reader is percy’s older half sibling? if not that, then just maybe general headcanons of percy having an older half sibling

I’ll probs just do the head-cannon for this one. 🦦

The moment Percy found out that you were his half sibling, the relief that came with no longer having to have an entire cabin with the low grey walls to himself would follow.

As it would ultimately meant he was finally freed from soul crushing loneliness he’s felt ever since being claimed after beginning to get use to the warmth and liveliness of that of the Hermes Cabin.

Seeing those empty bunks taunted and mocked him every waking moment, serving as a reminder that no matter how powerful of a Demi-god you were, you were no more helpless against the grim reality of being a forbidden child of the most powerful gods of the Greek pantheon.

However with this revelation came the urge to protect his newfound family and with that came moments of tension, especially the ones where Percy tended to forget that you were capable -if not more- in taking care of yourself when it mattered most, seeing as Percy had a tendency to put himself at the forefront of danger if it meant protecting the people who mattered so dearly to him; You being one of those very people he’d gladly act in reckless abandon in favour for your safety.

You hated this about him as no matter how long you’ve met him for, you weren’t going to stand by and willingly let your little brother place himself in dangerous situations for you.

Loyalty maybe his fatal flaw, your fatal flaw on the other hand was devotion.

Devotion to your family, your friends and loved ones, so much so to the point when you’d sacrifice everything for them, even if it was to your own detriment and eventual downfall, as long as they were safe and happy nothing else mattered.

Percy would go to war for you and you would happily go to war for him tenfold.

You; don’t do anything stupid till I get back.

Percy: how can I? you’re taking all the stupid with you.

You: jerk

Percy: bitch

If you were to ever have a crush on someone or someone starts making moves on you, fucking watch out cuz little bro Percy had a few choice words for ‘em and is hellbent on knowing their intentions with his older sibling. You deserve the best but in Percy’s eyes, not many people make the final cut.

However his interrogations were equal parts hilarious and embarrassing for you for multiple reasons but after the first few times you’ve told him off for doing so, you’ve given up and just let him act as though his words would sway anything into his favour, you could always just sneak out and meet them elsewhere; preferably away from any body of water but primarily the lake where you knew Percy and yourself would often frequent when in need of feeling closer to the one thing connecting you to your father.

But on this occasion, you severely underestimated your little brother.

You; Percy get out of the lake, people are begging to stare.

Percy: not until the sibling stealer behind you stops flirting. *he says whilst standing knee deep in the canoe lake, ready to super soak someone to the bone.*

You, groaning as you looked over at Luke who looked about ready to use you as a shield again your own brother, sending him an apologetic smile; I’m sorry about my IDIOTIC BROTHER, he tends to severely overreact, especially over the little things.

Percy, hands on his hips, staring at Luke murderously: who are you talking about, I don’t overreact. I just want to talk to him. Here. in the water. Where I have full dominion over.

You: I have full dominion over the water too fuckhead and like hell I’d let you interrogate him.

Percy, whilst still looking at Luke before walking off to find Grover and or Annabeth; you’re lucky enough to live another day.

Much like any sibling dynamic you take the piss out of each other but the moment someone else thinks it’s cool to do so also, it’s game over for them as an temporary alliance between you two is formed to defeat a common enemy before going back to taking the piss out of one another as per usual.

You: you’re such a sore looser fish breath

Percy: says you coral for brains

Some random camper; yeah, coral for brains.

You and Percy looking at the random camper; the fuck did you just say? Would you care to repeat or start running.

Random camper; *sweats and runs away as though they’ve just shit themselves.*

I think I’ve went on long enough but all in all, Percy was just ecstatic that he wasn’t alone anymore.

#pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagines #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson fan fiction

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muzansfangs · 1 year

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Guilty pleasure.

Starring: Muzan x f!reader; Nakime (mentioned), Kagaya Ubuyashiki (mentioned), Shinobu (mentioned), Kanae (mentioned) Enmu, Yoriichi Tsugikuni.

Warnings: nsfw, murder, traumatic events from a child perspective, death, violence, gore, loss of parents, implied adoption, implied stalking, oral sex (reader receiving).

Plot: Talking with his seventh in command, Muzan reminisced about his past, about you and how you had always been his greatest weakness. While a particular Slayer is searching for you, Muzan bent his knee to you and showed you a side of him you, deep down, hoped to see. He cared about you a little more than he allowed you to know, apparently, and you once again feel lost into this crazy whirlwind of contrasting emotions.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

MEMORIES.

"What do we know about her?" Muzan asked, lighting up a cigarette as he stared at the photograph of the purple-eyed slayer who had dared to put your life in danger. She was no different from the other ones they had taken down throughout the years: a prick destined to fall by his hand, a girl whose name was going to be forgotten by the world, once she had exhaled her last breath. Who was she again? A slayer.

Who were The Slayers?

The Slayers, right, a pack of mangy dogs without a life purpose who spent their time trying to get his head, young people wasting their youth to serve that man. Every single time The Moons captured one of the swordsmen, they all said the same thing: "Muzan Kibutsuji is a monster, he deserves to die".

He was not offended. He pitied them, instead. How could they be so blind to see that Ubuyashiki Kagaya, and his father before him, asked them to stain their hands in blood, to commit the same crimes he, the devil himself, the infamous Muzan Kibutsuji, had been accused of? The thing was they surely fought for opposite ideals, but when the sun set, they were the same.

Why? Because two people pointing a gun, pulling the trigger, washing the blood of their victim away from their faces, were always going to be murderers. It did not matter why they did it, or how they dealt with their conscience, they were killers.

Now, looking at that girl, he wanted nothing more than tearing her apart limb from limb, for she had had the audacity of putting your life in danger. You, the girl he was going to marry, the one who had touched some strings of his heart no one had ever found, the good omen in his life. There was only one thing he was absolutely certain about: he would have always protect you.

Even if it meant dying for you.

"Her name is Shinobu Kocho, Master. – the seventh in command cooed – Her code name is Belladonna. Apparently, she is best known for poisoning her victims" he singsonged, drawing another photograph from his folder and sliding it down Muzan's desk.

The raven-haired man narrowed his eyes at the girl portrayed in it. She seemed a few years older than the other Slayer, but she had some physical traits in common with her. Were they perhaps related in some way? He had a feeling he had seen her face before. Those twinkling, kind, pink eyes felt familiar.

"She is the reason why Balladonna attacked Douma and Miss. L/N yesterday—" the Moon continued, only to be cut off by Muzan.

His plum red eyes blazed in a sinister glint, until they almost seemed to have darkened for his evident irritation "Mrs. Kibutsuji, Enmu" he deadpanned, watching the way his subordinate prostrated himself in front of him, his dark bob swinging around his heart-shaped visage.

"I beg your pardon, Master! – Enmu pleaded him, his turquoise eyes transfixed on the polished black derby shoes of the raven-haired man in front of him – I did not mean to offend you and your lovely fiancé" he apologetically cried out, not daring to flick his gaze up to face his cantankerous boss. He knew how cruel Muzan could be, he knew he would have not stopped when blood spilled, or a bone broke. They were nothing more than toys for him. Oncr they were broken, he threw them away without hesitation.

Muzan scoffed, reaching his hand out to put off the cigarette on the silver ashtray "Spit it out then. You are wasting my time, Enmu Tamio. – he stated, grasping the photo and turning it towards the terrified boy – Who is this other girl?".

The seventh in command gulped down forcefully, eyes landing on the the girl's smiling face in the photo, as he nodded his head absent-mindedly "Her name was Kanae Kocho. She was Belladonna's older sister. Douma kidnapped, tortured and killed her in hope she would have revealed her colleagues's identities. She did not say anything, except that her sister would have come for our heads sooner or later. – he explained, a tear rolling down his right cheek – I was there too. I recorded everything".

It was only then, when Enmu mentioned the fact that she had been killed by Douma, that he remembered her. Peony, she was Peony. He had specifically given the order to murder her, after they had reported the news of her being a Slayer and wandering around a certain area of the city: your neighborhood. Her shifts dangerously coincided with your homecomings from the restaurant where you worked.

He could not let you two interact. Not after he had found you again after all those years. You were his greatest weakness, his remorse. His humanity. The idea of having killed you too that night, under the pouring rain, had tormented him for years. He would have never forgotten your big doe eyes filled with tears. You had not changed. The terrorized look you had whenever you were scared was the same you had shot in his direction in the middle of the night, when you screamed out your father's name as his dead body slumped down on the muddy ground.

Your eyes had haunted him for years.

When he saw you all those years later, jogging down the sidewalk, he knew you were not just a random girl. He did not imagine it was you, though. The kid whose life he had crashed the night he officially succeded his father and swore to take the lead of the Country. He had to see you again, he had to know who you were, you had to be his to protect and keep by side forever.

When Douma had showed him the first picture of you he had taken, he immediately focused on your eyes. It was you then. It was the kid he had to kill. It was Y/N L/N.

It was Y/N Ubuyashiki, the sin staining Kagaya's name.

And it was yesterday, when you stared at him in horror, fearing for your life, that he understood that he could not keep the eye-contact with you. He could not keep up with you, he could not see you staring at him as if he was a monster, like you had said that night. Therefore, he had blindfolded you.

If only you knew how deeply he cared about you. He cursed the fate day and night for having made him fall for you, his enemy's daughter. He was going mad. You were a black diamond, enticing him with your attitude and beauty.

You, how dare you to make him fall for you with every minute you spent together?

Muzan scowled, his plum red eyes darting on the display of his phone on his desk. You had apparently texted him a few minutes ago, but he was too busy reminiscing about the past to hear the sound of the nitification.

"Leave" he flatly said, grabbing his phone and turning his back at the knelt man in front of him to make him plainly clear that his presence was no longer required.

Enmu flinched at the sound of his voice and hastily stood up, bolting for the door with his heart thrumming into his chest. A coward, that was how Muzan saw him. A talented hypnotist, indeed, but a rabbit running into his burrow as soon as danger flinged around the room.

Once he was alone, Muzan sat on his armchair and unlocked his screen to read your message. He expected you to thank him for the bank transfer, or asking him more about the plans for the night. What he did not expect was a picture of Nakime, staring blankly at the camera, and your comments below.

YOU: Hi, Muzzie! Care to explain what the fuck she's doing here? :)

YOU: Also, thanks for the gifts and the money but, honestly, I'd really appreciate it if you gave me some privacy back. If I am not mistaken, the fourth clause of the contract specifically grants a car for me to use. Where is it?

Muzan smirked. You were really as smart as he thought you were. But he loved playing with you to test your nerves.

MUZAN: Earn it, love.

You did not take a long time to reply and he found himself smiling at the display once again, eager to read what you had to say.

YOU: How? Do I have to kill for you? Whose head do you crave to use as a footrest?

He would have never ever let you be a monster. You were an angel, a pure soul. He killed in your name, but he would have never ever asked of you to take someone's life for him. You were his pride and joy. Therefore, before going back to work on his pc, he typed a simple reply.

MUZAN: That's romantic, love. But I'm fine. Just get on all four tonight, it will suffice.

♚

Cheeks beet red, nails digging onto the palms of your hands, you stared at your reflection in the mirror. There was no way in the world you were going to wear that thing for him. You liked some good lingerie, but that was definitely too much. You felt naked, the silky black choker around your neck was making you feel like a courtesan. The suspenders, the lace thong and the bra were doing numbers on you.

What did he have in store for you? After all, he had promised you that you would have talked about his bodyguards, about him and about The Slayers.

If he thought you were just going to moan his name all night long, he was wrong. Grabbing your phone, you called him. You were not going to wear these slutty undergarments to pamper his ego. Reaching one hand behind your back to unclasp the bra, you kept your phone pressed to yout ear with the other and patiently waited for Muzan to pick up the phone.

"I guess you've found my gift, haven't you?" his hoarse voice finally pierced your ears after the third ring, earning a sight from you.

"Yes, I have, and I'm not going to wear this shit. I don't care if it's a 'Victoria's secret' limited collection. I still have my dignity" you complied, struggling to get the with the item off of you. As long as you hated it, you perfectly knew that it was expensive and you did not want to ruin it out of irritation.

You heard Muzan humming "It's not something supposed to stay on for a long time, love. – he reasoned, as you finally discarded the bra back onto the box huffing and puffing – What are you doing, anyway?" he curiously asked, making you roll your eyes at his comment.

"Nothing inappropriate, don't worry. I'm just going to take a shower" you replied, settling the phone on the bed and selecting the loudspeaker as you proceeded in slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of your underwear to drag them down your thighs.

However, the call ended with a click but Muzan's voice sounded too close to you "I'm just in time, then" he cooed from the threshold, making an high-pitched scream leave your lips, arms reaching up to cover your exposed chest from his vicious eyes immediately. Zero privacy, as per usual.

You blushed and took a few steps back, your eyes daggers on the man stripping off of his jacket "Hands down, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen before" he promptly remarked, turning towards the door and locking it.

"You're a pervert" you spat, averting your eyes from him.

Muzan quirked his eyebrow up, loosening the knot of his tie and throwing it on the floor carelessly, his fingers then working on the buttons of his shirt "I haven't showed you all my kinks yet, love. Don't be so rude. I'm much worse than that" he jested, irking you.

You exhaled through your nostrils and stormed to the bathroom, in hope to lock the door and leave him behind, but Muzan had understood your poor strategy and, before you could reach your destination, he had his hands around your waist. You yelped, your naked back pressed against his firm abs sent shivers down your spine, but the way the way his hands cupped your breasts, replacing your shaking ones, was something else.

"Can we try to get along? – he whispered in your ear, planting a kiss below your jaw – I don't like it, when you're mad at me" he hotly said, resting his chin on the top of your shoulder.

"If you stopped being a jerk, I would stop being a brat" you retorted, trying to resist his charm.

"What do I have to do to make you like me?" Muzan asked, a smug smirk gracing his lips as he rested his hands down your hips and spun you around to face him. Now, staring deep into his eyes, it was hard saying no. It was hard denying him what he was asking of you.

You batted your eyes close for a second, your fingertips grazing the outline of his abs "Show me that you like me too" you said breathless, almost regretting it. Why did you ask him such a thing? He oughted you no devotion, or romantic commitment after all.

You did not expect him to take you seriously. You did not expect him to grasp your chin and capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss again. Yet, when his tongue slipped into your mouth and he softly helped you to lay down on the bed behind you, there was something that made you feel like he was truly trying to convince you of something, of proving his intentions and feelings.

When his lips parted from yours, his hand slipping down underneath your panties, he locked his eyes with yours "Has anyone ever gone down on you?" he asked in a whisper, making your breath hitch in your throat.

No. The answer was no, naturally. You had gone down on someone a few times, but no one had ever done it for you. Not even your ex, Sanemi.

"N-No" you murmured, turning your face to the side in embarrassment.

Muzan cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking the area above your cheekbone lovingly "May I have the honor to be your first once again?" he asked you, watching the way your eyes widened slightly and how you nodded your head at him. He had asked for your consent. Not that you never had given him it, but it was hot, it was intimate.

"You don't have to, you know?" you told him, watching how he worked on the suspenders and dragged every last piece of item you were wearing down your legs.

Muzan's hands ran up and down your thighs, parting them gently, as he laid his body flatly on the mattress. His hot breath fanned your heat and you bit your lower lip in anticipation, as he placed a soft kiss on your clitoris.

"I want to" he simply said, before he ran his tongue down your slit.

You jolted, sparks of electricity pervading your body as he started lapping up at your arousal with swirls of his expert tongue. How many times had he done it? Probably, too many to count. Yet, you were aloof from knowing that you were the only woman he was enjoying going down to, the only one he had offered his skills to without feeling any kind of pressure.

Why? Because it was you and you were different for him.

His pace was torturously slow, his mouth wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking on it, flicking his tongue around it, made whimpers and soft moans fall from your lips as your hands gripped the bedsheets at your sides tightly.

Arching your back, you glanced down at him. Muzan met your gaze, his red eyes pinning you on the spot as he gave you a look of your juices running down his chin, glistening under the artificial light of the chandelier. You blushed and he grinned, grasping your legs and settling them over his shoulders.

"You taste heavenly" he purred against your pussy, before sticking his tongue deep into your clenching hole.

You squirmed, hands flying up to your face to shield yourself from his attentive eyes. You felt ashamed for fhe lewd faces you were making. Did you really miss that much? Or was it just Mr. Kibutsuji talent?

"Muzan—" you whined, tears peeking at the angle of your eyes as your partner's grip on your hips intensified. You felt the a familiar pressure coiling into your lower abdomen and the idea of releasing on Muzan's tongue made you both thrilled and bashful. What if he did not like it? What if he did not want you to cum?

But, actually, the way he stimulated every right spot of your clitoris, the way he held your body close to his face, was a clear sign that he aspired to. He groaned against your entrance, your legs squeezing his head as you ended up climaxing on his sinful tongue.

He lapped away your essence and you trembled under the overstimulation, your chest raising and falling erratically as you stared at the ceiling in haze. What had just happened? Why did he let you enjoy yourself that much? Why did he satisfy your fantasies, if you should have been the one doing it?

You lifted yourself up on your elbows, glancing up at the dark-haired man unbuckling his belt at the end of the bed. The prominent tent in his pants looked uncomfortable and you blushed, crawling towards him with the most grateful and kind expression on your face that made his heart skip a beat in his chest. You could not look that cute and beautiful at the same time.

"T-Thank you... – you whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear – Can I help you take care of..." you trailed off, darting your eyes away from the bulge in his boxers, threatening to nudge at your nose. You had not realised how close to it you were, until you had flicked your gaze up to meet his intense gaze.

Muzan chuckled, his calloused hand ruffling your hair jokingly "You don't have to thank me. – he said, his eyes darkening all of a sudden – But you can follow me into the shower. I feel like if I fucked you right now the way I had planned, you would seriously need me to carry you around for a week" he hoarsely commented, making your heart drop into your stomach.

What was wrong with him?

♚

In the meanwhile, maroon eyes studied your empty house. It seemed like you had not been home for a few days. Everything was perfectly tidy, but the majority of your clothes were gone from the drawers, from your wardrobe. Your books were no where to be seen and the fridge was empty.

The tall man sighed, entering your bedroom in search for any clue of where you had gone. Little did he know where you were, but when Kagaya had called him last night to ask for his help again, he had refused to believe it.

You, the sweet and innocent girl he had rescued that night, were now siding with a monster? How did he convince you to follow him? How could you possibly love him?

Yet, when he spotted a white shirt with a reddish stain on its sleeve, he grasped it. Inhaling the dull track of scent still impregnating the fabric, he cussed. Reality finally dawned to him at the smell of the wine ruining the snow-white shirt. It was a Chianti. He knew exactly who loved sipping glasses of Chianti.

Muzan Kibutsuji had taken you away and Yoriichi Tsugikuni was going to bring you back home.

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hi there! I am honored to finally introduce the knight in the shiny armor: Yoriichi Tsugikuni. Now, Muzan and oral sex are something else for me. Y/N is a lucky pal, although her past is … ehm, a little crazy, you know? And there’s so much more to know about it muhahah. I love angsty shit, don’t I?

Anyway, let me know what you think about the chapter and thank you so much for reading this fan fiction 😭❤️

Tag list: @tired-writer04 @hjjks @kakuchosbff @yazzzmints @bookandstar @z3r0art @cherrymanhuas @kazuhasslvt @selenenyx0124 @infinitedilf @yunixkill @shigarakithings @i-loveyou013

#muzan x reader #muzan x you #muzan x y/n #demon slayer smut #demon slayer fanfic #muzan kibutsuji x reader #muzan kibutsuji #muzan smut #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #nakime x reader #yoriichi tsugikuni #yoriichi x reader #kanae kocho #shinobu kocho #kocho shinobu

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spectra-bear · 5 months

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To all the fma fans here who have been following me for a while now, I'd like to bring a few chapters to light in consideration to the recent tragic palestinian apartheid

FMA has made sure to speak out about these reoccuring events, and whoever hasn't noticed from reading yet needs a critical thinking class.

Let's start with chapter 90:

Chapter 90 of the series, although censored heavily in the anime (but we'll get to that later), played a HUGE role in establishing what kind of message arakawa was building up to deliver to her audience as a plot B (ishvalan genocide) sided with plot A (the search of the philosopher stones, eventually turned plot A (overthrowing the military), a message meant to awaken her readers to the truth, and one that serves as a warning

Does this not all ring familiarity?

One of the reasons arakawa wrote this story was to bring this side of history into light,

the oppression, the abuse of military power, the imbalanace in arms between two parties at "war", the perfect guise of "protecting the people from radicalized terrorists", and using it to justify the murder of countless lives, committing war crime after war crime, massacring the land and lathering it with the spilled blood of countless innocents and people fighting back for their freedom, for their home. Those that die have their lives tragically cut short, too soon.

A total extermination

And to those that remain alive,

Forcefully immigrated from their own homeland

Or exploited for their bodies, harvested for their organs, abused, tortured and humiliated

Not only that, but the emphasis on making the reason behind starting the war in the first place, being the first bullet shot at a young child by a soldier, and intentionally making it seem "trivial" for the ishvalans to retaliate because of that, and painting them as animalistic

Writing off roy mustang and maes hughes as heroes for doing whats best for their country, glorifying their relationship as war buddies, and believing theyre in the right for putting down the people of the holy land, when they couldve backed down from contributing to this one-sided war,

and when they do step back from the field, theyre labelled as cowards. When they inevitably realize the abnormality and inhumanity of their actions, that theyve been solely used as tools and weapons of destruction, that impact is softened with rewards, of medals and cheers of accomplishment from the population-wide brainwashed by lies spread by the people in power, and if theyre lucky, accomodations for the negative mental effects of being part of a war

(arakawa interview source)

What do I conclude from this?

That the author of your favorite manga does not support genocide and in fact, condemns those who partake in it

If it isnt obvious, She included these stories because they have happened before

She is telling these stories, while not 100% protrayed correctly, to fill the empty gaps in the western perspective that have been contaminated with propaganda and demonization of these indigenous people

The designs of ishvalans and cultural clothing are intentionally influenced by japanese ethnic groups, middle eastern and south asian cultures, and the military intentionally european/western looking as an example for their expansion and dominance in mind

And now we are watching all this happen in reality, again, witnessed live, in much worse conditions, throughout history

Where the heroes arent kids who can sway elements at their command with the flick of a hand, but the people who stand against it in mass, marching in the streets to break the suffocating silence, and spread the voices of those seeking help and demanding their freedom back

Does everyone realize how fucked up that is? That the lines drawn between fantasy and reality blur so much that they become indistinguishable from each other? That is true horror, when the monsters and tyrants in your stories no longer stay on ink and paper, but are on your screens broadcasting their crimes, beyond humanity

You must understand that if these stories are included for you, the reader, they are not written just for the plot, but to bring awareness to you, and avoid history from repeating itself, and work against committing the same irredeemable mistakes as before

(thanks to @borkthemork for the help in outlining this and proofreading)

#i am not using the pal3stine tag so i dont drown out any sources published on that tag #and while this story may need to be reworked in some aspects it has already done alot in bringing this message into light #analysis #fma #fullmetal alchemist #bear screams in cave #cw blood #this serves as a reminder to what the is the message nuanced in this manga #cw violence

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pluviophiliced · 6 months

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“Not moving on is worse.”

In the context of season two, I struggle to reconcile the intersection of sincerity and comedy, and the idea of what pains and traumas we are meant to understand at the deeper level of what trauma is with those that serve only the purpose of comedic timing. This isn’t limited to one character, but rather to the season as a whole.

Season one highlighted childhood trauma and the ability to move on from that, becoming the best adult version of oneself possible. We see this evident in Ed, Stede, and Jim specifically as we are allowed to explore their pasts and their traumas — and we can presume that no one on the crew of the Revenge is without trauma (Fang’s dog, anyone?) of some kind that they carry with them. Stede handles his traumas and how to process them through running away and avoiding the issue until he no longer can. Ed does something similar, though he is able to craft a facade to use as a shield and a weapon, even if he never delivers a killing blow himself. Jim dedicates their life to revenge.

We witness all of these characters allow the defining characteristic of love to be allowing themselves to be saved and valued for who they are — not for what they can offer.

When season two opens, we as an audience see Ed at, arguably, his worst (I say arguably because we didn’t see Blackbeard in his prime, so… do with that what you will, I suppose). We see how this affects beloved and treasured characters, as well as new characters that we have yet to fall in love with. We see Fang fall apart not once but twice within the first two episodes alone. In episode two, we see Ed — a much beloved and adored character who we know intimately — lash out when confronted for his behavior. He lashes out at his crew and physically mutilates his closest confidant for daring to question him. “But that’s piracy!” And you’re right! But don’t we watch the first episode of season one highlight how much Stede Bonnet wants to change piracy? Isn’t this show supposed to be about found family, and getting better, and finding healing? In which case, we’re watching Ed behave abusively in the wake of his mental struggles as he once again attempts to hide behind the same facade that has protected him in the past. Ed suffers this breakdown in response to not one but two perceived rejections from the two people he would claim to be the most important in his life, and in a classic mental illness fashion, he barricades himself off and settles into the persona that is everything he doesn’t want to be.

His crew fears him. They’ve been kidnapped and essentially held hostage under the man they believe to have murdered their crew — their friends — and are watching him continue to devolve. Enter Izzy Hands and Jim Jimenez. Izzy is well aware of his hand in Ed’s state. “Well, he instigated it!” He did. He wanted back a version of Blackbeard who he saw as safe territory: a necessary evil for the continued survival and safety of the crew, ship, and Ed and Izzy themselves. And then he watched Edward “Only Ever Killed One Person Personally” Teach fulfill the legend he’s always been known as, and watched him become someone who couldn’t care less about life or death or anything in between. Ed surpassed and buried the version of Blackbeard that Izzy wanted to return, and he was force-fed the consequences of this with an unavoidable cruelty. “Well, he deserved what he got! Violence was always on the table, because it’s piracy!” But once again, we’re operating under the assumption that the big themes of this show are healing from trauma and being worthy of being loved even if we’ve done bad things.

While we’re on that topic, though, let’s explore that. Ed’s childhood trauma comes from his abusive father. He carries the weight of that abuse with him well into adulthood, as well as the weight of what he had to do to survive it. What he had to do to save his mother. This season sees him abusing those around him. Despite this, despite his erratic behavior and the mistreatment of his crew, he is still loved (by crew and fandom both, if I may add). He is still loved by Stede, despite the trail of blood he leaves in his wake. Stede is still longing to find him, despite knowing what he’s done and what he’s now capable of, and this continues to reiterate that idea of you deserve to be loved even when you’ve done wrong.

And then, Stede finds him.

We as an audience witness Ed make the choice to stay alive. We watch the thought process, we see that he chooses to fight for that love that comes alongside being saved. Being wanted. Being seen for who you are and loved because of it. And up to here, I’m on board. I’m excited to see what’s next and how Ed will reconcile for what he’s done and the harm he’s caused at the hands of his mental illness — because the truth is, we harm people when we aren’t adequately being responsible for our mental illness. This is a real-world thing. We lash out when we’re hurt, or when we’re rejected, or when we’re struggling. When we’re suffering, we often can’t see past ourselves to see whether or not we’re also causing others to suffer. This does not make us bad people — and it didn’t make Ed one. And then the “apology” came and went. The only member of the crew Ed really sits and ever has a drawn out conversation with about anything is Fang, and even this is somewhat shallow. Fang absolves him and moves on. We don’t get to see whether or not Ed ponders this conversation long-term or whether or not he battles with himself over how to move on.

We’re left with a traumatized crew who semi-accepted a half-hearted apology and a beloved character who hasn’t actually been held accountable at all. “But he apologized and wore the bell and fixed that door latch!” Yes, and? He physically mutilated his first mate, instructed him to be killed, traumatized an entire crew — and this all takes a backseat to his relationship with Stede. And what a stunning scene between the two of them in the moonlight, where Ed finds it in him to ask to take things slow. Where he recognizes his needs and vocalizes them. I left this episode feeling so hopeful, because half-baked apology aside, Ed is actively learning to vocalize his thoughts and ask for what he needs when he recognizes in himself that something is going to be harmful to him. We had a kiss, we had Ed asking for help when he needed it, we had a proposal, we had “not moving on is worse,” and even knowing only three episodes remained, I left feeling like we had been so perfectly set up to see how things were only going to keep improving.

In the first episodes of the season, we see murderous raids and mutilated first mates and two suicide attempts (though I suppose one was more of a mass murder-suicide attempt?) and these are all thrown together. In episode six, Stede deescalates a raid from a bloodbath of his own crew and sends another crew on their way with the lessons and values that he has been pursuing since the first episode of the first season. He then, in a parallel to the French ship of season one, causes a man’s death. This is highlighted as a turning point, something that can’t be ever moved on from. (“There’s no coming back from that.”) But what about the other traumatic events of the season that are treated as jokes? Izzy’s drinking, day in and day out, bottle after bottle after bottle — coping with the reality of his life and the way it’s been altered beyond recognition. The mop he used as a makeshift leg snapping, forcing him to pull himself away from the crew with his own hands. Lucius’s mention of being sexually assaulted and Stede’s look of disgust, the way he literally runs away from the conversation. Lucius never gets to air out his traumas, not really, not with someone who listens and tells him he’s safe and allows him to talk things through. Even Pete gets ill instead of being able to offer support.

I struggle to reconcile what is and isn’t comedy in this season, or what violence is meant to be taken for what it is. The Ed and Izzy breakdowns in episodes one and two sat far too close to my chest for me to look past them into comedy — and the suicidality of both men was glossed over and moved on from so quickly, never explored. Did Izzy’s “I wanna go” in the final episode mean he never moved on? That some part of him was still lying in that room with a gun to his head? You don’t become non-suicidal in a matter of days — is there still something lingering in the back of Ed’s mind? There was never a conversation about it, and there was never anything between the two of them that could allow me comfort in knowing that they had reached some sort of understanding. This season pulled domestic abuse, alcohol abuse, and suicidal tendencies straight from my own traumas and never held anyone accountable for any of them. There was no healing. There was no real talking it through. “Well, it’s not a rom-com, so—” Except it continues to be presented as one. Shortcomings of storylines of characters that seem to have been cast aside or mischaracterized this season aside, I cannot for the life of me reconcile how a show about kindness and moving on and being loved amidst all of your flaws could have a season so wrought with traumas and yet never discuss them. Never explore them in a way that allows me to move on. I love this show and there were so many good things about this season; I love these characters, and yet I feel so disconnected from it for the first time in over a year. Not moving on is worse, sure, but moving on without accountability leaves wounds unable to heal. How do you move on from that?

#ofmd #our flag means death #pluviophiliqueue #ofmd s2 #my thoughts and feelings on s2 #ofmd s2 critique

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ssinboo · 2 years

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Grasp The Thorn

summary: As your loyal knight, Kim Mingyu is more than willing to serve any and all of your commands.

“But he who dares not grasp the thorn Should never crave the rose.” ― Anne Bronte

pairing: Historical!AU - Knight!Mingyu x Queen!F!Reader, somewhat friend with benefits? you’ll see

word count: 2.7k

warnings: sexism, mentions of blood and murder, detailed smut. Oral (F rec.), Fingering, Monster Cock Mingyu Agenda™️, praise kink if you squint, massive breeding kink, they absolutely adore each oher

a/n: I’ll be mostly out of commission for this week, longing after my missing wisdom teeth, so do enjoy this in my absence!

The loaded atmosphere felt so thick you could touch it. Though the woman sitting at the end showed no sign of emotions, every occupant in the long table fervorously disagreed with her actions.

“We will not go to a meaningless war. My word is final. Meeting adjourned.”

Her voice rang velvet smooth, not a single syllable too loud. Among grumbling, the council quietly stood up to bow as she exited.

“The throne should have never gone to a woman.”

The words stung more than she ever led on.

Inheriting the throne after your father’s death brings endless expectations to be met. Especially when you’ve been painted as the Kingdom’s shameful little spoiled princess. Your spending habits and luxurious life were targets of nothing disgust, even if your siblings and cousins enjoyed the same extravagant lifestyle you did.

From the second you were born, you were set on the path to inherit this great Kingdom and received the greatest education available. Despite your father’s greatest efforts, your coronation was met with rebellion from power-hungry nobles.

They wished for your abdication and quietly, for your death.

Even if you led your country into success, even if you ruled with an iron fist, getting rid of corrupt officials and lowering the misery of your people.

Oh, you would never convince them, so you gave up convincing them.

“You will take care of him, please?” You pout, flashing puppy-eyes at your loyal Knight.

He smirks, running his tongue over his teeth.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Mingyu was your beloved servant, assigned to your protection since you were kids. His father protected the King as did his grandfather before. You know he would lay his life on the line if it meant you wouldn’t be as much as inconvenienced.

Differing from when you were young, he had grown into a terrifying, mountain of a man that set fear in the eyes of anyone who dared cross his Queen. That fear is justified, of course.

“I will be in my chambers,” You smile, watching the darkened glaze of lust flare over his eyes.

“Oh, your majesty, you spoil me,” Mingyu whispers dangerously close to your ear. His hot breath fans at your skin, lighting a fire in your chest.

But he leaves before you can lean into his body and relish in his warmth.

Not too long after, — Your knight never left you waiting, — Mingyu climbs into your window and jumps down with a thunderous thud. He’s still wiping the blood off his skin, not bothering at all with his clothes, he wouldn’t be wearing them for very long.

He finds you completely relaxed in the large tub, rose water filling the air with its sweet scent. You lean over the edge, watching as he strides toward you, pride dripping down his rugged clothes.

“Done so soon?” You ask, biting at your fingernails, eyeing his body up and down.

“I had someone better waiting for me.” You giggle at his response and raise your hand, gesturing at his clothes.

“Get out of those and join me.”

Oh, he did not need to be told twice.

You’re torn between wanting him naked as rapidly as humanly possible and enjoying the show of watching him slowly rip away every blood soaked piece of cloth that hides that gorgeous body from your view.

Your rebellious subjects were very upset to hear your disinterest in taking a husband. How could you accept a spoiled, boring prince from a shitty Kingdom when you had your beloved knight?

Soon, he’s joining you and almost draining the tub with a big splash.

You flatten your hands against his broad, defined chest and push him back, until he’s settled at the edge. Eyes soaking up his glistening, tanned skin, you run your fingernails along his scars, circling his nipple.

Mingyu bites his lip, intently watching your fierce study of his body. He hesitantly reaches for your waist, waiting for your approval, when you lean into his touch, his arms are fast to grip your body.

“How was it?” You whisper, doe eyes absolutely bloodthirsty, his second favourite lust.

“Absolutely delightful,” He mimics your low tone, “He did not see it coming.”

You laugh, “How did you do it?”

“Slit his fuckin’ throat. Neat and clean just like you like it.” His fingers trace your jaw, eyes very clearly scanning your face, craving your praise.

You smile, “You did so well, so good.” Leaning forward, you’re the one to initiate the kiss, but he’s the one to deepen it.

His mouth is on yours hungrily, almost angry. His arm is curled around your waist, easily pulling your body up and settling you on his lap.

Tongue bullying into your lips, he pulls you to his chest. Your fingers find his hair, dampened in blood but still soft, so soft against your pulls.

Lips devouring yours, hot and demanding, Mingyu has you whining under his kiss, your stomach jumping under the scathing electricity that runs down your arteries.

He pulls away, all breathless and lustful-eyed, gazing you down so hungrily you feel your body shudder in anticipation. Soon, his lips are attached to your neck, tongue running hotter than you’d ever get accustomed to. He sucks and kisses your skin, leaving his claim for anyone to see — Not that he’d ever let anyone pay attention to you for more than a second.

You’re painfully aware of the way his tongue obviously avoids your nipples, so you shove his head toward the right spot, not missing the way he laughs against your skin.

Head thrown back, you focus on the way his lips expertly suck at your nipple, pinching and pulling until it stands hardened and tight, just begging for his attention.

Your fingers dig into his scalp, bringing a welcome stinging sensation that has Mingyu moaning into your chest.

“Need to taste you— Please, Please—“ His voice is breathless, a desperate plea that falls heavy on your core.

You nod fervorously, letting him manhandle you as he wishes. His large, muscly arms have no issue lifting your body from the water and bending you over the edge. — He lays your towel over the wood, not allowing its rugged texture to ever bother your skin.

Mingyu moans at the sight of your dripping pussy, glistening under the dim candle light begging for his lips. Not once, would he ever tire of watching your body react to him.

He licks a long stripe along your slit, collecting your juice along his tongue, moaning at the way your taste immediately coats his lips. You feel the vibration of his humming straight in your core, ripping out the sweetest sigh out of your lips.

Pulling your legs apart, he settles in his favourite spot. Slowly, he laps at your clit, watching it swell under his attention. Your body shudders at the slightest of his touch, of course, he trained you well to react to him and him only.

Sucking and kissing at your sensitive bud, Mingyu watches you lose thread of sanity slowly. He expertly devours your cunt, fingernails digging into the abundant flesh of your hips drawing crescent-moon shapes along your skin.

Your hips thrust to meet his tongue, rubbing your pussy along his nose and lips, and he whines sweetly, not wanting to miss a single drop of your essence.

“Give me more—“ You moan out, gripping at the tub with all your strength. “Give me your fingers—“

He smirks against your skin, your juices dripping down his chin in a glorious, sinful coating. Hand running down your ass, he kneads at your skin, slapping and pinching. Mingyu is completely drunk on you.

“Does your tight little cunt want my fingers?”

You hum in agreement, hips leaning back to meet his hand, presenting your gaping cunt in a shameless show.

“I can’t hear you, beautiful,” He whispers against your throbbing pussy, you clench around nothing, sending your lubrication running down your thighs.

“I— I want your fingers— My pussy wants your fingers,” You bite your lip, making sure you would punish him for so much teasing. “I want you to pound your fingers into me until I come around them—“

Mingyu hisses at your words, feeling them run down his skin and wrap around his cock, stirring it into a painful erection.

He gives you two fingers at once, your walls immediately clinging to them even as they scissor your hole open. His fingers reach places yours could never dream of, curling into your favourite spot.

Once he starts moving, you can only moan his name.

“God, you’re so tight, how does my cock ever fit?”

Mingyu leans forward, trailing kisses along your back, his fingers not stuttering once in their unforgiving pace. He admires the way your pussy swallows his long fingers, coating them completely.

You can hear nothing but the lewd squelching of your pussy as his fingers pound in and out.

When he notices your cries getting louder, Mingyu promptly wraps an arm around your waist, supporting your body as you reach your orgasm

You lean into his hold, riding out your climax with faint moans of his name. He doesn’t stop until you’ve gone limp in his arms, a satisfied smile on your lips.

“You did amazing,” Mingyu kisses your neck, slowly pulling out his fingers. He brings them to his lips, sighing at your taste, greedily slurping up every drop of your come. “You’re so good to me.”

“Oh, we’re not done.” You state, turning around to face him with a tired smirk, “You’re gonna carry me to bed and I’m going to milk your cock dry,” The borderline innocent smile you dawn on makes him choke.

Mingyu can only nod enthusiastically,feeling dizzy at the sudden bloodrush, “Yes, ma’am.”

He throws you over his shoulder, true to your command, and sends you onto your soft bedding — a couple of your many pillows fly toward the floor.

You watch him tower over your body, erection reddened and angry against his stomach. Head throbbing, aching and oozing glistening precum down his generous length.

No matter how many times you ever laid with him, his size never failed to surprise you. Long and deliciously thick, decorated with thick pulsating veins and curved just the right angle to hit all your favourite spots. His body emanates heat like a furnace, burning at every inch of your skin that meets him, his eyes ate you alive with their searing gaze.

Reaching your hand forward, you watch Mingyu lean into your fingers as you pump him a couple of times, making sure he’s all ready for you. He almost whines, puppy eyes begging you to give him the go.

He trembles under your touch, hands gathering into fists with low pleas. “Please— I won’t last— I want to come in you—“ His words do make your stomach flip with arousal.

With a smile, you spread your legs apart, running your hands over your thighs, presenting your sensitive, swollen, pussy.

With a pained groan, Mingyu reaches forward, running his tip along your folds, collecting your juices and spreading them over his length. You mewl at the contact, pushing your body to meet him.

He bullies his thick cock into your spent pussy inch-by-inch with a pleasured cry, “God, baby—“ He sighs, steadying his body with his arm, “You’re still— So tight.”

You’re both too overtaken by the breathtaking, wondrous feeling to come up with any intelligible words. You hum, feeling his cock split you open, filling you so deliriously good.

“Oh, look at you pussy taking me so well,” He hisses, watching you greedily take every inch of him.

His name falls out of your lips like a prayer as he bottoms out, stuffing you completely full to the very brim and you swallow him up all nicely, walls welcoming him, pulsating in anticipation.

It takes a minute for you to settle, a long, torturous minute of your whines and incessant clenching. Mingyu grips your waist so tightly, gathering every ounce of his self-control to not cum right then and there.

Pulling his cock out is just about the hardest thing he has to do, giving up on your warmth feels unnatural and almost a sin. But knowing he gets to pound back into your little pussy makes it worth it.

You whine when he’s out, clenching around nothing, missing his cock stretching you out to your limit, but he doesn’t let you wait long.

Shoving himself back in, Mingyu groans out praise, never once letting you forget you’re absolutely made for his cock, taking him so perfectly. Lips agape, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into a crashing kiss, you want to feel his beating heart against your chest, want to feel every bump and scar of his skin pressed tightly against yours.

Nothing feels as comforting as his body smothering you, his whole, unadulterated self completely loose in the safety of your bedroom, for your eyes only.

His body presses into yours, his arms holding your legs under your knees, folding them into the perfect position. The new angle allowing his cock to kiss your sweetest spot repeatedly. He moans into your lips, hips thrusting into you langlidly at first, letting you accept the stretch.

Oh, but you were so greedy for him.

“Faster—‘ You breathe out, eyes glazed over in cockdrunk lust and Mingyu can only admire the exclusive beauty of your lustful desires.

“Mhm— You sure?” He teases with a kiss on the corner of your lips.

“Yeah— Go harder—“ Nodding, you chase his mouth wanting to taste his tongue.

Mingyu smiles into your kisses, speeding up his pace, pistoning into your cunt. He feels your tits bounce against his chest, hardened nipples rubbing against his skin, you’re lucky your pillows soften the blows of his harsh thrusts.

Your essence pools into a ring around his cock, a white halo of your mixed juices. His balls slap against your ass with loud, obscene sounds, sending your body forward with every hard, calculated thrust.

This new pace, though absolutely dizzying, don’t allow either of you to last very long.

“I’m gonna—“ Mingyu whispers, burying his head in the crook of your neck, lips drunkenly running over your hot skin.

“I know— You’re gonna give me your babies?” You hum.

He nods with a drawn out whine, head dazzled with thoughts of fucking his seed into you, making you his the best way possible. Watching you grow heavy with his babies, all round and pliant under him.

“Yeah—“ He gulps, “Gonna fill you up.” Reaching a hand in between your bodies, Mingyu places his heavy hand over your stomach, he can faintly feel the contour of his cock thrusting in and out. “Right here. I’ll fuck my cum into you so deep it takes— Can you feel me, my Queen? Can you feel me pounding into your little pussy?”

You whine, nodding frantically, saliva drips from your gaping lips, “Yes—! So deep!”

“I’ll send you out there carrying my baby, looking so, so pretty— Everyone will know who knocked you up—“

You sigh, clenching at the tempting picture he paints with hazy, lustful promises in the quiet of the night. The very next thrust sends you into a shuddering climax, your hips shaking under his with the head-emptying electricity that burns through your limbs.

Your orgasm sends Mingyu right after, cock throbbing, spurting out thick white ropes of cum that fill you heavy and hot, painting your walls with his ownership.

He feels your walls clench incessantly around his sensitive cock, milking every last drop of seed so greedily, swallowing his very essence. You feel full, so full.

Mingyu collapses next to you, lazily pulling you into chest. He kisses your hair, laying back on the soft pillows, fingers unconsciously caressing your skin.

You know he always gets incredibly tired after sex, so you would have limited time to talk.

“I love you,” You whisper nervously, eyes not daring to meet his.

You held these feelings for decade, how could you not fall for his incredible charm? Mingyu was the only constant you had in your hectic life, he protected, cared for you in a way only he knew how. You had long fallen for your best friend.

When he doesn’t respond, you look up.

He’s fallen into deep sleep, a soft snore escaping his gaping lips.

You smile, maybe next time, he’ll be awake to hear your confession.

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miyseung · 9 days

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𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐑 - 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

summary: Sunghoon has never felt any spark in his heart, none of that silly love he’s read about in novels in his free time. No one interested him, and it wasn’t like his father, the king, would let him have friends, male or female, for fear of being betrayed or developing feelings for them. He lived a life of isolation, excited for nothing – neither the idea of being married to a pretty princess or becoming the next ruler of the Park kingdom. He most certainly did not expect you, his new guard, to change all that. He did not expect you to brighten his days and light up his heart.

includes: no warnings in the teaser!!

death, murder, war/battle, attempted murder (kinda), royal au, romanticized medieval setting of sorts, forced marriage/proposal, a lot of time skips so it moves somewhat quickly, more warnings will be added in the final oneshot

pairing: prince! sunghoon x guard! fem! reader

word count: 904

genre: angst

READ THE FULL FIC HERE !

Sunghoon was reading over some papers pertaining to the kingdom’s matters when he heard a knock on the door.

“Enter.”

One of the guards came in, before bowing upon seeing him.

“Sire, his Majesty wishes to see you.”

He nodded and set the papers in a neat stack. He then put them in a drawer and locked it for security. He then stood up and followed the guard, maintaining a neutral expression.

His mind was working much faster than normal though.

His father was very strict, and the slightest mistake meant an extremely harsh lecture. He flicked through his memories, trying to remember what he could have done wrong, and what he should say as his apology.

He pursed his lips as a thought crossed his mind - was his recent trip to the colder regions made known to his father? He had gone for administrative work, but he couldn’t resist spending some time there ice skating, which the king always considered useless since it benefited only the person skating, not the country. He had done his best to keep it under wraps, but maybe one of the guards reported this to the king. Damn it.

He mentally slapped himself for using such crude language. Those were the words of peasants and did not suit a prince like him. Holy moly…buckling barnacles, great heavens…such lengthy words to express frustration, he thought. ‘Damn it’ was only two syllables.

As he snapped out of his reverie, he entered the Throne Room. His father was seated on the grand throne at the end of the airy space. The seats where the ministers sat were empty. Court was always in the morning, and it was probably lunchtime by now - the prince wasn’t sure.

He stood a few feet away from his father. The guard bowed and left, and Sunghoon made eye contact with the old man in front of him. He didn’t seem angry, so the younger relaxed a bit, letting out a sigh.

“Why have you called me here, father?”

“I’ve received some proposals from other kings. They’ve sent me paintings of their daughters. A lovely selection of princesses, I must say.”

Sunghoon had to physically hold himself back from rolling his eyes.

“Father, I’ve already told you this. I am not ready for marriage and I am not interested in this topic.”

“Yes, but it’s good to start early. Maybe you’ll change your mind after-”

“I’m sorry to interrupt you Father, but why have you actually summoned me?”

The king narrowed his eyes at his son but didn’t say anything more about the topic.

“Well, I’ve decided to get you a personal guard. There have been many threats of attacks on the palace, so it’s better to take this precaution.”

“Interesting. Will he be with me all the time or-”

“She.”

“What?”

“Your guard is a female.”

To say he was shocked was the understatement of the century. His father? Hiring a woman? As his bodyguard? What if he-

“Are you serious?” “Yes. She is very capable and I’m sure she will protect and serve you well. I trust you to keep your relationship with her strictly professional.”

It wasn’t like he knew how to have a non-professional relationship with anyone outside of his family anyway.

“Yes, Father. Will she be with me at all times?”

“Indeed she will, except for when you are sleeping. At that time, she will stand outside your door and guard you.” “What about her food and sleep?”

“That is not your concern.”

“But-”

“Silence!”

He immediately bowed his head slightly as a sign of remorse for stepping out of line. This was going to be interesting, he thought. He had little to no interaction with women outside of his mother and sister, and the small talk he made with princesses and duchesses of other kingdoms was always awkward. Now he was having someone of the opposite gender, a woman, watching over him nearly 24/7.

He slowed down his train of thought. Why was he thinking like a teenage boy ogling over a girl? He was the crown prince, he was better than that. It was going to be a new experience, that was all.

“May I meet her now?”

“Of course. She’s arriving as we speak.”

Just then, the door opened, and you entered, a male soldier on either side. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and closed like a fish, but nothing came out of it.

He was having a cultural shock of sorts. All the women he had met were all dainty, graceful and poised - the epitome of perfection. You, on the other hand, had an air of authority about you — rough and firm. A few scars were on your face, probably from battle. You bowed the full 90 degrees, and he could only respond with a small nod.

Oh fuck, you were gorgeous.

And he used foul language again. Stupid Sunghoon, he reprimanded himself.

He didn’t take back what he said, however. Your beauty wasn’t the type written in books or sung in ballads, but it had to be known to the world, somehow. He was almost tempted to write one himself.

Hold on, why was he thinking all this? His father had just told him to not think anything about you that crossed the lines of professional, and thinking about how pretty you were was not within those lines.

“This is your new personal guard, Y/N.”

a/n: it kinda reads like ‘y/N iS nOt LiKe oThEr gIrLs’ in this bit but i swear that was not the intent! hoon (is a loser) has simply never had real interaction with women who aren’t royals, so pls don’t take it in that manner <3 this is probably going to be my longest oneshot yet, my motivation to write is not completely dead we cheered!!

there is a taglist for this oneshot, lmk if you want to be added on it in my asks!

#mallow’s works #divider by fairytopea #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen au #enhypen royal au #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #sunghoon oneshot #enhypen angst #sunghoon enhypen #prince au #sunghoon fic #enhypen fic teaser

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1moremilgram-enjoyer · 7 months

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Okay hold on you know that name on Kotoko's cap in HARROW? Jacques Roulet?

I always thought that was just a brand or something, but I looked it up and- it's a story about a supposed werewolf that killed a child?! Kotoko what the fuck-

CW Gruesome murder, werewolves (???), clinical lycanthropy (?), mentions of drugs

Okay so here are the sources I'm using for this:

-WordPress by Jim McNeill

-Monstrous.com

Because this shit so obscure it doesn't even have a Wikipedia page.

Here's a summary of the story, though be warned, it's gruesome.

Basically, a few villagers in Angers, France, found the warm corpse of a fifteen year old boy being mauled by two wolves. The boy's father was the first to run up after his screams were heard, apparently. They chased the wolves off, but after they lost track of them, they found Jacques Roulet, half naked. He had long hair and beard, and his hands were dyed in fresh blood, his nails "long as claws."

Roules was "a beggar from house to house", and had been staying in a neighbouring village with his brother John and his cousin Julien, though he'd disappeared eight days before the murder. He admitted to having killed the boy by smothering him, and that the only reason he didn't fully eat the corpse was because the wolves scared him off.

In court, he claimed when he rubbed an ointment given to him by his parents on his skin, he could turn into a wolf. He claimed his hands and feet were those of a wolf when he killed the child, but he wasn't sure what his head looked like. He also claimed to have killed many more children. Adittionally, he said his brother and his cousin were the (other?) two wolves at the scene, but his parents actually proved the two had an alibi. You know, in case anyone was considering whether or not that was true.

He was originally sentenced to death, but he managed to appeal it, and in the end his sentence was reduced to staying two years in a mental institution.

The WordPress article mentions the salve Jacques claimed to rub on himself could have possibly had hallucinogenic properties, or alternatively, it's possible his diet included bread infected by the Ergot fungus, which contains chemicals similar to LSD and can also cause hallucinations. This can serve as a possible explanation for his belief of being a werewolf.

... What the fuck does this have to do with Kotoko.

Like, okay, I get the werewolf thing. She's a furry, we get it. But, she doesn't kill children though. If anything, one would assume the one supposed to be Jacques is Kotoko's victim, the dude that killed ten middle school children. But he's not the one wearing the cap, and he's... okay he's sorta connected to wolves.

It's always looked to me like his shadow vaguely resembles a wolf's snout, but maybe I'm just going crazy.

I honestly don't really know what the deal is with this. My best guess is that the HARROW serial killer is meant to be Jacques, since Kotoko believes he deserved death (as evidenced by the fact she killed him) like the original sentence given to Jacques. Maybe you can read into something about the murdered boy's father in the Angers story being the first to find the body, if you're inclined to believe one of the HARROW killer's victims was part of Kotoko's family. Or maybe the idea of two wolves scaring off Jacques? Like, Kotoko and some kind of partner in vigilantism?

I got no idea. The issue with that is that the wolves in the Jacques story also ended up mauling the boy's corpse, but maybe that's not 100% off-brand? Seeing her distorted quote in the second trial voice reveal trailer.

[Kotoko] From the beginning I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing Earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!

Uh, yeah, I don't know.

I feel inclined to point out, regarding that last point, the line that plays when she first shows off the cap is:

Feeding on food so I don't burn out

Which is- not the greatest line to say as you show off a cap referencing a story about mauling a fifteen year old. (And yes I do think the Japanese lyric explicitly references eating)

To be clear, the cap is in other scenes: at the end of the second verse before the pre-chorus-

[HARROW] Shall we replace the poor soul, and the miserable delusion “I didn’t mean to offend”, “I won’t do it again” How many wins in a row?

-and at the very end, where it infamously lays on the ground right next to the murder scene.

But it's still introduced with the line about eating, which I find worrying.

I really am not sure what's going on with this one. If any Kotoko scholars out there have better ideas, please let me know, because I am very curious to know what the deal with this is. Take care!

#milgram #milgram project #milgram theory #kotoko yuzuhira #harrow mv #literally what the hell is happening #please help me harrow is already giving me a headache as it is #im sure this has to have been pointed out before whats the consensus

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prismartist · 8 months

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the thing is, guillermo's main motivation is not just to become a vampire. it hasn't been for a while. if that were the case, he would've left and served another vampire a long time ago––which he actually did in season 2 with celeste. the only reason that didn't go through is because it turned out she wasn't a vampire.

(by the way, it's not a plothole that nandor let guillermo go off to be turned by celeste even though being turned by someone than your master is bad. guillermo renounced nandor as a master as per celeste's conditions, so at that point she was his master, not nandor)

becoming a vampire is definitely the thing that drives a good amount of his decisions, yes, but it's not the only one that does. the desire to be a vampire is accompanied––and i'd even say overrode––by a desire to be family.

season 2 guillermo was very fickle. his vampire slayer lineage conflicted with his desire to be a vampire, and at the same time you cannot convince me that he didn't contemplate murdering the others several times. s2 guillermo was willing to drop the gang if it meant an easier way to become a vampire.

but i don't think the same could be said of season 5 guillermo. at this point he had made peace between his nature and his want, having used his vampire slaying skills to protect his masters. he had grown even closer to the vampires, and while i wouldn't say he never cared for them, that care has grown enough so that he hasn't attempted to properly leave since the end of season 2.

and more importantly, the other vampires had become closer to him. as he grew to see them as family, they had grown see him as such too. guillermo knows his worth, and his love for them would have only persisted if they also––slowly but surely––showed their love for him. otherwise, he hits the bricks, or tries to; the one time he tries to leave since s2 is at the start of s4, when they left him in a crate for weeks.

what nadja said to him in the motel comes to mind: "at first, i was just using [the little antipaxons] to get rid of my hex. but then it turned out... i really like hanging out with those guys."

guillermo started serving the vampires to become a vampire. but over time, instead of merely being his masters, they became his family. sticking with them became less and less about becoming a vampire, and more and more about being with loved ones.

he voices his regret to ask derek to bite him. "i really don't want to die," he says about nandor hunting him down, "but i'm more afraid of losing the vampires."

i think it's possible he continued to pursue vampirism if only to obtain this newer desire. but even so, vampirism ultimately didn't do anything for guillermo in the grander scheme of things.

guillermo wants to be fully accepted. he wants to be part of the team, an equal. not pushed away or dismissed. he's worried less about this recently, but judging by his looks during the guide's rant about being excluded, he still had his doubts. perhaps being a vampire would achieve that. but it didn't!

when the vampires came to say goodbye at the motel, they didn't do so because they respected him as a vampire. in fact, when they first found out, they just responded with astonishment (laszlo) anger (nadja) or indifference (colin, the guide). and even if he were turned by nandor, i still doubt they would've outwardly respected him.

no, the vampires each went one by one to say goodbye to guillermo because he was already part of the family. all this time, over the years, they saw guillermo as someone worth valuing, because he valued them. they just didn't show it, as vampires do. it had nothing to do with being a vampire. and even after the full transformation, they went back to putting on an indifferent and uncaring facade. being a vampire has no effect over the vampires' feelings towards guillermo.

in the end, vampirism didn't do guillermo any good. he had all he could ever need and want... as a human. except being a vampire. of course. but as a vampire the vampires didn't treat him differently, and if anything he's further excluded because he's too hesitant to kill. at least as a human, it's a given that he's an outsider. it's worse when you're supposed to be the same and you still end up too different

so in the end, it wasn't worth it. and guillermo chooses humanity once more.

do i wish we could've seen more of vamp guillermo, and definitely more of him building up to make that decision to turn back? yes. honestly most of my issue with the finale is the pacing; the latter half seemed like a separate episode on its own, and i kinda felt it needed to be a whole episode in order to stick the landing better. (can we bring back longer seasons please. even just a tiny bit longer, like 12 episodes :() but overall i am greatly fascinated with guillermo's journey, i am so in love with it, and i am looking forward to how he's going to grapple with the changes he went through this season :DD

#obligatory prism long ass essay babyyyyyyyyyy #wwdits #wwdits s5 #wwdits season 5 #what we do in the shadows #wwdits spoilers #wwdits s5 spoilers #unintelligible rants

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the-garbanzo-annex-jr · 4 months

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by Hugh Fitzgerald

Those who wish Israel ill are up in arms about the IDF’s plan to flood the network of tunnels Hamas has built under Gaza. They are angry because they fear the novel plan will work: Hamas operatives will be flushed out, forced to scurry out of the tunnels and appear above ground, where the IDF can pick them off. The water in the tunnels will also weaken the tunnels by soaking their walls, and the soil just above them, so that they will be more susceptible to eventual collapse; Hamas will never again be able to use them as they have been doing. More on the proposed tunnel flooding, and the reasons given by Hamas and its supporters as why it should not take place, can be found here: “Did the UN Human Rights Council just admit Hamas steals civilian aid? Plus, the dumbest argument yet against flooding tunnels,” Elder of Ziyon, December 15, 2023:

The UN Human Rights X account tweeted something spectacularly stupid:

Israel’s flooding of tunnels with saltwater could have severe adverse human rights impacts, some long term. Goods indispensable to civilian survival could also be at risk, as well as widespread, long-term & severe environmental damage. Civilians must be protected.

Hold on: when they say “Goods indispensable to civilian survival could also be at risk,” doesn’t that mean that they are admitting that Hamas tunnels are warehouses for the aid that the world has been sending into Gaza for the past decades?

Yes, there is no other possible interpretation: those “goods indispensable to civilian survival” — humanitarian aid — are apparently being stored in those tunnels, Hamas having seized them from the shipments of aid meant for all the people of Gaza. Hamas has now stored them inside its tunnels for safe-keeping, for the future care and feeding of Hamas operatives alone. The rest of the Gazans will have to make do with whatever ”goods indispensable to civilian survival” Hamas left behind after taking its massive cut.

Critics of the flooding plan, like Eurasia Review, also say things like “Flooding the tunnels could damage Gaza’s aquifer and soil, if seawater and hazardous substances in the tunnels seep into them.”

“Hazardous substances” means “explosives.” Now, why might there be explosives in the tunnels?… The list of bad things listed in that article that “could” happen if Israel floods the tunnels is almost comical, but the pièce de résistance (so to speak) comes at the end.

Flooding the tunnels could affect the cultural heritage and identity of Gaza, which has a rich and diverse history and culture. The tunnels are part of Gaza’s landscape and memory, and they reflect its character and spirit. Flooding the tunnels could .. affect the cultural expressions and practices of Gaza’s people, such as the art, literature and folklore that are inspired by or related to the tunnels.

Yes, the terror tunnels must be protected because they are an important part of Gaza’s culture!

The tunnels were built by the terror group Hamas to do one thing: help facilitate the terror group’s murderous attacks on Israelis. That is their sole reason for being. The tunnel network has served as a vast underground pedestrian passage, allowing the hiding of weapons, rocket launchers, and Hamas terrorists under most of Gaza, and also allowed the undetected movement underground of weapons and fighters. The tunnels are instruments of murder, not “cultural artifacts” that must be preserved as part of Gaza’s “landscape and memory.” These terror tunnels cost billions of dollars to construct; they likely represent the greatest misallocation of resources in the Middle East since the pyramids were built in the Valley of the Kings.

Do the Gazans really want those ghastly tunnels — which will be left in ruins by the IDF — to be thought of as part of the “cultural heritage and identity of Gaza”? How many Germans like to think of the extermination camps as part of the “cultural heritage and identity” of their country, or aren’t those camps, rather, something of which they are ashamed? The camps are part of their history, but not of their “cultural heritage,” which is a different, and a positive, thing.

How many Russians want to preserve the Soviet labor camps of Vorkuta and Kolyma, as part of their “cultural heritage”? A museum in Moscow, containing testimonies, photographs, and videos, of life in the camps that constituted the Gulag, would be enough to preserve the memory of that hideous aspect of Soviet history.

By all means, the people of Gaza should preserve the memory of the malignant and wasteful tunnels forced on them by Hamas, but they have no need to preserve what remains of those tunnels — 800 of the approximately 1000 that existed have already been destroyed by the IDF —themselves. Must the tunnels really be preserved as part of Gaza’s “landscape and memory,” or are they testimony only to the murderous madness of Hamas, hellbent on murder, and indifferent to the wellbeing of the people of Gaza it has caused? Perhaps one tunnel might be preserved, so that Gazan schoolchildren can visit and see what Hamas wrought in its unhinged unquenchable desire to kill Israelis; that would be more than enough to preserve the memory of the terror group’s madness. Some claim that the tunnels must not be flooded because the resulting damage would affect “the art, literature and folklore that are inspired by or related to the tunnels.” I very much doubt that the “art, literature, and folklore” of Gaza — is there any worth mentioning? — could ever be “inspired” in a good way by those hideous tunnels. Go to it, IDF engineers. Flood those tunnels. Flush the killers out.

#united nations #un human rights #hamas tunnels #flooding hamas tunnels #idf #gaza #hamas #gaza's culture

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fromtheboundlesssea · 2 months

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I think people often overestimate Jaime's redemption in the show/books. Sure he's not as unpleasant as he was at the start of the series but he is still on the side of the illegitimate corrupt Lannister regime. Jaime may hold the Frey's in disdain but he is still rewarding them for the Red Wedding with Rivverrun. How can it be redemption when he threatens to launch a baby out of a trebuchet? How it is redemption when he tells Forley to murder poor Jeyne Westerling should she try to flee? Jaime is punishing houses for resisting the Lannisters and pretending that his bastards are the legitimate rulers of Westeros.

The thing about Jaime Lannister within the books is that I don’t think he’s going to have redemption arc in that he will become a really good person (as much as one can be in Westeros). Instead of Jaime’s redemption arc being centered on his humanity, I think he is going to get a “knighthood redemption.” There is this pivotal line in A Storm of Swords:

And me, that boy I was . . . when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

Arthur Dayne was not the best knight ever, considering he abandoned Elia and her children to a racist madman. However, to Jaime, Arthur Dayne represents the ideal knight.

So many of Jaime’s actions are done in the name of a twisted sense of knighthood and spite towards those that judged him for the “wrong” he did when he was truly the only knight willing to do anything.

I think that Jaime will redeem himself as a knight rather than as a person.

I think Jaime is subtly collecting people who represent the people he has wronged as a knight (people he couldn’t protect). I think Brienne is the obvious one with him rescuing her from rape, most likely representing Rhaella, but Brienne is also how old Rhaenys would have been had she still lived. I think Jaime’s need to constantly protect Tyrion from their father is meant to represent Aegon. Rescuing Pia is also about Rhaella. Serving Sansa and helping the Starks perhaps serves as a way for protecting Elia (the show is different, but Sansa had already escaped by the time Jaime returned to King’s Landing and I wonder what he would have done about Sansa’s public beatings).

While I love Jaime, I think his “redemption” will be about him as a knight rather than him as a person.

#keep the asks coming #jaime lannister

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pure-oddity · 8 months

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Hey! It's murder time :3

(Also not proofread, if i stare at something too long I'll just never do anything with it.)

Pt.1 Part.2

Butcher/slasher ghost au: Part 3

He's known as the reaper - he thinks it's a bit on the nose but who's he gonna complain to??

Outfit is simple, a lot of it comes from his time in the SAS - skull mask included.

His goal is to clean, plain and simple. He doesn't want to walk side by side with some bottom feeding murders, doesn't want to risk serving perfectly good meat to abusers. The idea makes his skin crawl.

Considers his work just, has little faith in the justice system - the cops here have been...less than efficient in his eyes. Unwilling to go as far as needed, constrained by the law (or worse, they show sympathy to the pathetic things and let them off easy). So Simon takes things into his own hands.

The only part of the whole experience that he MIGHT feel some guilt for enjoying. Is the fear of those he hunts. Because isn't it so ironic, to spend your life terrorizing others only to die scared, confused, alone and in agony at the hands of someone larger and stronger than you? The irony certainly isn't lost on simon, and he gets a little thrill out of it.

Considers the whole thing his ghost time, because it's not all that dissimilar to what he was doing in the military right? Taking out the bad to protect the good, getting dirty so the world stays clean. He's got a few less resources sure, less hands - but he makes due. He dons his old husk, and cleans up his little corner of the world.

It starts with a jerk at a pub. He's people watching again, nursing a glass of bourbon in a shadowy corner - trying to observe and adapt behaviors he think will help him settle in better. A man walks in, simon notes he looks agitated but also - excited? Watches him walk to a group of girls, previously abuzz with excitement chatting away. He watches the life be sucked from the whole table as the man approaches, watches as he leans towards one of them hand on her arm in a grip that he knows is meant to hurt. Watches as her demeanor changes to something more reserved and afraid and Simon can't take it - seen all he's needed to. Walks over silently, every bit the predator he knows to be.

was just gonna intimidate the guy a bit, send him running off tail tucked between his legs - see if maybe he could charm the poor girls into settling down and enjoying themselves again (maybe even on the sly recommend a womans domestic abuse shelter for the poor victim).

But then he sees how much the fucker is enjoying this. Enjoying the poor girls fear, enjoying ruining their night and ending their harmless fun. Enjoys hurting the poor woman and, well.

Simon only stops when the man passes out from pain. Face a bruised and swollen lump, nose shattered and blood dripping everywhere - maybe missing a few teeth. Simon grabs the guys shirt and uses it like a cloth, cleaning the reminents off his hands. Spares a glance at the girls, is unsupervised to see them afraid - but still saddened by it. He tips his head at the main victim, then makes his way outside to wait for the police. He lights a cigarette, leant against the wall of the building and glances to the side as he puffs a cloud of smoke when he hears the door chime again. It's the main woman and he nearly chokes. She's trembling and her eyes well with tears, and she places a tiny palm on his bicep.

If she feels his body jolt she doesn't say anything and her hand remains there - a burning itching feeling barely blocked out by his hoodies sleeve. How he loves and loathes it at the same time.

She thanks him for what he did, and while he doesn't ask questions, she offers answers anyway. Said that she'd left him ages ago - went to a lot of trouble running from him, uprooted her whole life and moved cities over when she realized the police wouldn't do anything. Only for the bastard to find her again. Says that while what Simon did was terrifying, she's grateful that he stepped in. Scared to imagine what the fucker would have done had he managed to get her out of the building.

It makes Simon want to hit him again, but he refrains. Instead he pulls as much softness and care from his soul that he can - tells her that it's okay and he'd do it again. That no one should be treated like that, that she didn't deserve to have her life messed with like that. And that with how thorough he was with that man's face, there's a good chance he won't so much as look at another woman again.

She smiles at him. His heart near bursts. Tells him that's what she's hoping for - but is ready to run if things go belly up anyway. Pats his arm and makes her way inside, content to wait in the warmth as the police finally arrive on the scene.

Everyone is questioned, the man is brought to a hospital and Simon is free to go after some questioning. The girls from the table all having jumped to his defense, and apparently the bottom feeder threw the first punch? Simon doesn't remember the hit really, but sure.

The idea that the scumbag could come out of the hospital with a vengeance worries simon, because it makes sense. Embarrassed and in pain, all those feelings likely to be taken out on the poor girl.

Pulls some connections. The fucker gets sent to prison - drug charges or something, not really concerned with the why - and it's still not enough for Simon.

Watches for news of his release obsessively, makes it so he'll be one of the first to know of the fucker is so much as considered for early release.

And a month later (what a fucking joke) when the day comes and Simon catches wind that he's going after the poor girl again? Simon takes care of it.

And it just continues on from there.

Watches someone beat on a defenseless animal? Body found 3 days later. Animal is given to a loving home

Catches an attacker stabbing some random victim? The body is found within hours - victim wakes in the hospital and has no recollection of how they got there or who saved them.

Sees a guy spike a drink? The guys found dead a day later (and the bodies of the ones who were making and selling the drugs haven't yet been found)

But the world isn't so black and white. There's a lot of grey.

The animal abuser had previous animal abuse charges attached to his name, yet he still got ahold of an animal. The shelter or breeder who did this is just as responsible for not double checking who they were giving pets to.

Considers those bystanders just as bad and deserving of punishment. Thinks of all the harm that could have been avoided had people just done the bare minimum.

The mugger had been arrested and released more than once, making the police responsible for not doing something to prevent this.

And the drugger, did this at the bar - multiple people sitting on either side of him, every chair full, and no one saw anything? The bartender, a few feet away didn't think to stop it? It makes simon just so fuckin mad.

And thus the reaper is born.

#simon riley au #simon ghost riley #butcher simon #slasher simon #or serial killer??#i def need to do research into the terms #like is there a difference?#regardless the man is murdering #odd blurbs

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julietvstheworld · 2 years

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ok so i read yyour eyeless jack fanfic (loved it btw :)) but i dont understand what the mansion is supposed to be. no hate just genuinely curious! the way you write about it is interesting.

thank you so much for asking! now i have an excuse to talk abouty it.

( slenderman mansion and the proxies ) world building

sfw - general world-building

╰┈➤ mentions of murder, mentions of manipulation, mentions of torture

General Idea

The Slenderman Mansion is run by the titular man himself, typically referred to as ‘the boss’. There are many other, similar mansions (I might talk about those one day) that all follow the same rules.

1. Do what your boss asks.

2. Don’t cause harm to your other proxies.

Proxy is the term that refers to the followers/people who carry out the orders of Slenderman, or in this case, people who carry out the orders of their assigned boss.

On the surface, the mansion is meant to be a place where serial killers are able to live happily in return for some work for the boss. The proxies are provided with food, water, a home, and resources to do whatever freaky shit they want. However, it becomes obvious that the boss has different intentions that are never made clear.

Selection Process & The Contract

Although the different owners of the mansion have different processes for how they chose their proxies, Slenderman typically prefers those that come from harsh backgrounds. He believes that they are more susceptible to manipulation and more willing to help him (with a few exceptions). He then somehow forces the killer into his woods, usually somehow getting the cops to push them into the forest.

He offers them a contract to sign, appearing as a saving grace to them. He promises that you’ll live a long life and you can do whatever you want. Although, it’s best to read the fine print before signing away your soul (figuratively and slightly literally).

The contract is basically all reasonable until the last paragraph. There it details that you are to 'serve until death'. While in the woods, time is frozen. Although people and animals are able to move freely, none of these things age. The boss makes sure that he recruits his proxies when they are in peak form since that’s the same form they will maintain until he decides to dispose of them.

The Members and Their Roles

Slenderman: The Boss

Slenderman is clever and ruthless. He says very little directly to his underlings, but when he does, he keeps it brief and impactful. A misanthropist that hides behind the guise of empathy for extremely broken people to then easily control their actions.

Masky: The Right-Hand Man

Timothy Wright is organized and lonely. Being the first proxy to Slenderman, he has the most contact with him. He acts as a leader, giving assignments out to everyone. He’s not very well-liked, putting the boss’s orders over everything.

Hoodie: The Ace

Brian Thomas is reliable and manipulative. He’s the man that softens Masky’s harshness. He often checks up on the others, typically filling in the role of a helper. He is versatile in all positions, medic, leader, support, etc. He acts friendly, but due to the boss’s orders.

Ticci Toby: The Scout

Tobias Rogers is loyal and emotional. He almost always is asked to be on the lookout for new recruits and keep track of victims. His strengths are in stealthiness rather than killing. He always protects his allies, adamant that they are a ‘family’.

Ben Drowned: The Brains

Benjamin Lawman is observant and listless. He’s the one who creates the plans to get missions done as fast and efficiently as possible. He knows the most about the situation he and the other proxies are in, accepting the hopeless situation.

Eyeless Jack: The Medic

Jack Nichols is selfless and gloomy. He is deeply caring for his companions, never hesitating to drop everything to stitch someone up. He has given up on his own happiness, never taking care of himself but always yearning for more.

X-Virus: The Motivator

Cody Anderson is optimistic and persistent. Serves as support for field missions, and has the ability to push himself and others to get the job done. The most oblivious to the situation at hand, always messing around with people who are obviously annoyed.

Jeff the Killer: The Brute

Jeffery Woods is confident and impulsive. He is always tasked with killing either a crowd of people or unneeded witnesses. Typically ends up with a mess that is cleaned up by the poor sucker he’s partnered up with at the time. Replies on his ‘talent’ as much as possible.

Jane the Killer: The Assassin

Jane Arkansas is responsible and overbearing. She is always tasked with killing high-value targets. She remembers to kill clean as possible. She is openly furious about being forced to kill innocent but takes care of the other proxies as much as she can.

Nina the Killer: The Thief

Nina Hopkins is empathetic and uninhibited. She deals mostly with gathering resources for the group. She has the most growth when coming to the mansion, going from delusional to self-aware. She is the first person to help out newcomers.

Homicidal Liu and Sully: The Bodyguard

Liu Woods and Sully are protective and unpredictable. They are typically tasked with aiding whoever is carrying out whoever is the leader in the mission. They’re great with defense, but not offense. They will protect whoever they are assigned to by any means.

Bloody Painter: The Bait

Helen Otis is charming and egotistical. He is easily able to control targets to get them to come with him. Despite his charisma, the other proxies are not easily fooled, finding him annoying. He has a hard time caring for others but still craves human connection.

Clockwork: The Interrogator

Natalie Ouellette is honest and cruel. She has little to no care for humans, taking sick pleasure in torturing them. Although, she has deep affection for every proxy. She feels a kinship with them for going through similar trauma, caring for them over everything.

#ben drowned #jeff the killer #eyeless jack #masky #hoodie #jane the killer #nina the killer #clockwork #bloody painter #ticci toby #slenderman #x-virus #homicidal liu #creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta x reader

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