#and he's so overcome with lust whenever he's around her that he's like I MUST FUCK HER 😤

[babisawyer]

I know it's 2 am but I must complain about something.

#🐇 #my two dick dragon book was good right. like it was cute. like.....it's no beowulf obviously I get it but it was fun! #it was hella short though but like it's part of a series. so I was like fun! let's read the next book about a kraken. what could go wrong?? #like tentacles! fun!..........................not fun. #this guy is so fuckin miserable. his husband died like idek when. it could have been a year ago #it could have been 20 it's all he talks about. then he's around the main character #and he's so overcome with lust whenever he's around her that he's like I MUST FUCK HER 😤 #with the tentacles even and it's not even fun or sexy because he literally bolts immediately after!!! #that is TOO close to my real life bitch I do not need this amount of realism when I'm trying to get silly nasty #I'm like almost half way through it and it's like bro if you bring up the dead husband one more fuckin time #you don't understand how often it's brought up. he literally fucks the main character and then he's like but.............my dead husband 🥺 #that's not plot. that's not good conflict or drama or whatever. I'm gonna kill someone just shut up and get weird with the tentacles #the dragon was sad. but then he was like oh! my wife is hot! life isn't so bad! Then he bites her cooter #THAT is the world we should be living in.

[pointnumbersixteen]

Headcanon for Cap's crush on Mike coming back and him panicking/floundering whenever he's around him, and getting sad when him and Ally are all cute together.

This is a tough one, mostly because I can’t picture any scenario in which Cap’s crush on Mike returns, at least without some serious character development on Mike’s part, and I don’t think the creators intend to develop him in that direction, unfortunately. 

To explain: 

Captain’s type is pretty clear: men who are fit, handsome, intelligent, and who are natural leaders with good people skills who also look good in green. And I’m pretty sure all of those things are required. 

Cap’s been shown to have some interest in four men on the show. Havers fit every single one of those things and Captain was clearly deeply attached to him. Adam the First AD was also every single one of those things and Cap fell for him pretty fast- I imagine if the filming at Button House had gone on for as many weeks as it was supposed to, Cap might have ended up pretty attached to him, too. Kevin (the Handsome One), however, did not fit the whole bill... he was fit, very handsome, in fact, he’s probably the best looking guy we’ve seen so far on the show, looked good in green, and had good people skills.  Whether or not he was intelligent or not can’t be determined by what was seen on the show. But what he was not was a natural leader. And Cap’s interest in him didn’t seem to go very far past physical attraction- rather than hanging on their every word, like he did with Havers and Adam, Cap’s attention to Kevin was mostly in passing and he was even willing to frame him for theft. So strong leadership skills and possibly intelligence seem to be the deciding factor.

Now, Mike is very fit. He falls somewhere between average and good looking, I suppose (I think average, but I understand that depends on your opinion of weak chins and jawlines. Sorry to anyone who might think that’s a little too nitpicky about male aesthetics. I’d argue at least that Cap doesn’t care too much about jawlines, though, because Adam’s isn’t great, either, although Adam does have a chin). Mike does look good in green. His people skills can be good, although they aren’t necessarily always. What he is not, however, is particularly intelligent or a natural leader. Don’t get me wrong, I adore Mike, but this is the case. And the latter didn’t even have time to come into play. If you remember the first episode, Cap became very interested in Mike on sight. And that interest evaporated completely never to return as soon as Mike implied that he doesn’t like to read. 

I think it would take a lot for Mike to overcome those two deficits for Cap. I don’t know. He’d have to decide to start a course of reading in the library. Or suddenly develop an intensive interest in WWII history. Or finally take charge of properly remodeling the house. Or stop just following along with whatever Alison wants all the time, but in a good way (sadly, I think they might intend to do this, but in a bad way, making him less understanding and more insecure as the show goes one- which is definitely not going to make him appeal more to Cap).    

So sadly, I can’t offer you Cap pining for Mike and getting sad over his being with Alison instead (and really, the poor guy’s probably spent enough time pining for the unattainable, anyway). Please accept these substitutions that I can endorse, however, on similar themes:

If your main goal was Cap lusting for Mike and floundering: 

1) Summer comes around, unusually warm, and Mike starts regularly working shirtless in just, like, basketball shorts (let’s not even talk about the way basketball shorts can drape in certain places) all around the house and grounds. Fanny and Cap reach a quiet understanding with each other on certain issues, and take to trailing him around the house whenever there’s a time they think Alison won’t notice, to enjoy the view. They’re both too civilized for spying in the bathroom, like Mary does, but they’re not above this... they just don’t want anyone else to know that they’re not above this, so make excuses for their reasons to be present whenever they get caught at it. Of course, everyone else noticed this forever ago, but they’re all too amused by it to say anything about it. They both particularly flounder in their excuses whenever it’s Alison that finds them. She, of course, knows damn well why they’re following Mike around. She enjoys the view, too. She does not call them on it. She is in fact the most amused person in the house. Mike’s reaction depends on the snippets he can get of Alison’s side of the conversation with the two, from irritated at things like ‘”I don’t know how useful you are supervising Mike’s tile work; it’s not like you can tell him if it’s going wrong,” to confused at things like, “Oh, you particularly like the wallpaper in this bathroom, do you?” But whenever Mike asks Alison about it, she tells him, “oh, the Ghosts are just being weird again,” because really, it can’t hurt him, and she thinks the Repression Duo really could use letting go long enough to enjoy the view. Then it cools down again, Mike starts wearing shirts, and Cap and Fanny both immediately go back to their scoffing. 

2) Captain has just finished his evening pre-bed security inspection of Button House (headcannoned) and gasp, shock, horror: the door has been left unlocked. Alison must be informed at once. The security of Button House depends on it! He rushes up to Alison’s room to tell her, to walk in on gasp, shock, horror: the thing he dreads the most, (’horseplay’) heterosexual sex! He makes a noise of alarm. Alison hears and then sees him and shrieks. Mike shrieks because Alison shrieked and jumps out of bed. Cap quickly looks away from Alison (but doesn’t run away, as Alison still must be informed, he has a duty) because he’s a gentleman, and also, frankly, because naked woman is just not a sight he wants to see. And instead, he ends up looking directly at Mike. And: damn. Daaaammmmmmn. And suddenly, my boy is Sprung. Up close IRL frontal views of hard bodied naked men just weren’t something he got much of whilst alive. I mean, there were always communal showers, but taking a good hard look was not something that would have gone well for him in his time. Cap comes to his senses and starts to retreat, just as Alison starts yelling at him to leave. He tells her about the unlocked door as he runs through the nearest wall. But he flounders whenever Mike is around for the next several weeks, and can’t quite look Alison in the eye. After Alison gets over her initial irritation at him (after all, it’s not like he can knock) and eventually talks him down. But still, Cap never quite looks at Mike the same way again (daaammmnnn). 

If what you’re looking for is actually the pining at Mike and Alison being cute, though, I can do that, too:

3) Captain eventually acknowledges and comes to terms with the fact that he’s gay. And every time he sees Mike and Alison together, being cute and coupley, cuddling on the couch, holding hands, kissing, it just kills him.He starts trying to avoid them, just so he doesn’t have to think about it. Gaping sadness. Not because he doesn’t get to be like that with Mike. But because he never got to be like that with anyone. 

#bbc ghosts #the captain #mike cooper #alison cooper #a bit of fanny button #have some lust with a bit of angst at the end #it was the best i could offer at this time #hopefully it works for you

[thejudgingtrash]

🌳

Thank you for sending me a prompt :D This one shot it definitely not proofread, so I'm sorry about that.

I tried to do something different aside from Percabeth for once - Ruegard! Also tw: character death

Thorns and Roses

Silena looked at her. “Clarisse…” she mumbled.

“No. Please don’t,” Clarisse cried. Tears clouded her vision and her last moments with her.

“I’m so sorry.”

It took a mere split second for Clarisse to fall deep for her. It was a lazy glance to the side of the arena, when she saw her smile and wink. The encouraging wave of her hand that rose as Clarisse slammed Percy with her magical spear.

But that was all that it took, many summers ago. It was all that Clarisse little hardened heart needed. Clarisse La Rue, formally bully exterior, now nothing but a shell of destruction and failure.

She was truly her father’s creation. Her looks, her wit, her sharpened senses, her rage. All came from him unfortunately. But with the looks came the bad. The legitimate children of Zeus and Hera were cursed, no one wanted to admit it. They lacked in tact, they lacked in grace. Their status was only high lightened by their status and birth rights.

The captivating beauty of one Silena Beauregard was all that made Clarisse nearly forget those facts. Those pesky thoughts that had haunted her ever since she was a child. A child of Ares who had the greatest honor and the greatest displeasure of actually meeting her father.

The minute the son of Poseidon stepped into the camp; everyone knew. He looked like a younger and smaller version of his father; most people just played the indifferent card aside from that annoying Athena girl. Had Annabeth owned the medical tool kit from the Apollo cabin, she would have dissected Percy as if he were an insect. But no. Percy was successful with retrieving the lightning bolt and found out that one of the most beloved and prominent campers was a traitor. It was a wonder that Luke never bothered to try to recruit from the Ares cabin. With Clarisse on his side, it would have been a stroll through the parks, waging war against Olympus. Not only that, Percy had the nerve to humiliate her father for all to see. The Ares cabin had been the laughing stock for a whole year.

Then the sea rat stole her mission and final chance to shine and marked Clarisse’s downfall. Disgust. That was what her father breathed the few times she had seen him and pleaded for his advice. Strategizing wasn’t the strength of the legitimate war children. It was blood lust, destruction, interruption. And just like that he had wiped the Iris message with his hand, closing their call.

Clarisse La Rue, the biggest failure on Mount Olympus. But she was different. Silena, who greeted her every day. Silena who asked how she was feeling. It was Silena who was nurturing and caring. She who clearly sought her out and bonded with Clarisse. The campers saw it and yet they didn’t. Clarisse turned from the loud and brash leader of the cabin into a more solemn version of herself.

Love and war. Thorns and roses. They were opposites, but who was about to say they would attract each other? Love was pure and soft. It made you swoon and see the world through different lenses. War was the other side of the spectrum. It tore apart, it hurt, it caused pain. It would leave scars for eternity as love stood by its side to caress it. Ares and Aphrodite. Two forces not to be reckoned with. The beauty of a rose was always accompanied by the pain of its thorns.

“I want to see Charlie. See… Charlie…” coughed Silena. Blood sticked to her torn lips.

“I’m in love,” Silena had giggled back then. She tried to bite the smile down that came through anyways. Just like always.

Clarisse could hear her own heart beat louder with every new tact. It was beating to the rhythm of anticipation. She licked her lips and tried not to nervously touch her dull hair. I love you too.

“It’s Charlie, Charles Beckendorf.” Silena admitted, her blue eyes shining as bright as a thousand stars. Then she smiled again and broke Clarisse’s heart into tiny pieces.

It was the greatest irony of them all that a child of Hephaestus stole the heart of the daughter of Aphrodite all while the mighty speechless fruit of Ares could do nothing but sit there and watch. The gods must have a feast with that gossip on Mount Olympus.

O gods, why did you shoot Clarisse with the arrow of love? Eros, how could you? Didn’t she suffer enough shame and humiliation? It wasn’t that Clarisse was angry or disappointed. She was truly as happy for Silena as Silena was in love. She wanted to see her flower bloom and see her smile every day. If it meant that it was Charles who captured that precious place so be it.

But it was… Jealousy? No, Clarisse didn’t want to steal Silena away from Beckendorf. They deserved each other. Despite the children of Hephaestus being mental twins to the children of Ares, both with their and non-conforming looks, their strength and the cautious glances the other campers threw into their direction, Clarisse didn’t wish her cousin any harm. Beckendorf was shy around Silena and even if watching them share small kisses here and there caused Clarisse’s stomach to drop. She wanted Silena to blossom.

It was envy. If Clarisse could switch parts with Beckendorf she would do so in a heartbeat. He was polite and quite popular even if he wasn’t aware of it. While most of Hephaestus’ creations had a harsh tone to them, Beckendorf was truly one of his best to rise. The heart of a fighter and the smarts that could beat any quantum computer. And he beat Clarisse too, when it came to Silena Beauregard’s heart.

Clarisse tried to branch out, meet new people even in camp. She tried to keep an eye out for any other possible romantic partner, alas to no success. She was no dainty small girl which others seemed to prefer. She had her height and her muscles in her arm that beat most mortal men. No chance for her witty and empathetic personality to shine through.

Clarisse was no child of Aphrodite. She couldn’t smell emotions on a whim, but her father’s powers gave her a similar skillset. She could sense whenever something wasn’t right and it started months ago before the Battle of Manhattan. Silena was distant. Her hair was less shiny and her eyes as dull as the calm seas. She couldn’t look her in the eyes. She was distracted, looked to the side.

Something was off with her, no matter how much positivity the daughter of Aphrodite used to cover her tracks. Clarisse could tell, but she was tactful enough to not pry. Oh, had she pried back then. She had seen the signs, why didn’t she step up and say something? The difference between desperation and the calm before the storm was so small.

Silena ran away from Clarisse as if she had been hit by the arrow of hatred. The beauty could tell that she was unable to deceive her dearest friend. So, she stopped talking to her at all, avoiding her on every occasion. No more boy trouble, no more talks, no more sneaking off to the beach, no more laying down and watching the stars. Well, Silena watched the stars. Clarisse could only see her.

The manipulation of the Aphrodite cabin never worked on the children of Ares. They saw clear through lies and deception. In war every moment counted. You needed to be one with your environment. You needed to know your opponent. Was he stronger than you? Did he have more men? Was he able to do things you could never do? Would he risk things you would never do?

Avoidance was clearly the better tactic. Silena had learned a lot from Annabeth and the other children of Athena back in those days.

The moment Clarisse’s heart began to break forever was when it turned out that Silena had been the spy for the cursed Castellan boy. That he was. A naïve boy who thought that whining and throwing a fit on the ground would cause change. As the son of one of the master manipulators on Mount Olympus, Luke should have seen Kronos’ betrayal a mile away. But he was a broken and cursed boy like all of them, a kid in college and the Titan Lord cracked him like a walnut. No one in camp could have resisted, not even the strongest children like Percy, Thalia and Nico.

But why her? Why Silena? What did he do to Clarisse’s sweet Silena? What did he do that made her lights go out forever? What did he do to let her die like that? She deserved the death of a warrior, not the death of being the traitor’s second-class shadow.

Silena had chosen her in the end. Her, poor Clarisse La Rue. Like Patroclus and Achilles back then, millennia ago. She chose to disguise herself as Clarisse. The greatest deception, a war tactic of its own.

How had Achilles overcome his loss? How did he mourn? With agony. With the most destructive pain. With anger. Was he ever reunited with his lover? Clarisse did not know the answer. All she saw was her rose wilting on the dirty grounds of Manhattan.

The poison tore Silena’s face apart, the sad reminder of her being was slowly decaying. The shell of her being. The pain that she left in Clarisse’s heart. Silena had coughed and Clarisse knew it was time for Thanatos to put an end and for Hermes to bring her to the other side. She knew it, yet didn’t want to face the truth. It would break her already broken heart.

“Why did you do this?” whimpered Clarisse. “Why did you, you silly girl?”

But Clarisse knew why. It was like always – Silena did it out of love. Both for Beckendorf and for her. Her last moment was dedicated to the both of them.

The last red petal fell. It was just like that. One last breath and her life force was gone, the eyes dull and an ash gray layer covered her. The teary blue eyes. It was no picture for the gods yet something Clarisse would never forget. Of that she was certain. Silena’s black hair was framing her body like a dark halo. They were putting down roots on the cold and hard concrete. The final whispers of an escaped nymph making peace with the situation.

A piercing cry haltered all movements. Monsters and men alike. It echoed through the streets and drowned out all the noise from the battle grounds. Today they would die. Rage covered every inch of her body. The movements were robotic as if a parasite had taken over her, but it truly was the devastation that manifested itself within Clarisse’s mind.

She had killed that fucking drakon just like it killed one of the most precious people on earth. She never had the chance to hell her that she loved her dearly and sincerely. Deep down Clarisse knew that Silena knew the entire time. But she never had the guts to say it to her face, rejection be damned. To be freed of the burden and speak her truth. Clear her consciousness and her mind.

She was shaking with pain and desperation. Every muscle, every thought burned and hurt. Clarisse channeled all the ugliness of war. All of her strength just for her. She who had just left this plane of existance.

Clarisse had lost her.

The thorns had lost their beauty.

And they would all pay for it.

I hope the Apollon and Daphne theme shone through ^^ lmk what you think!!

#greenteamatchas #Mel answers #mel writes #pjo #percy jackson #clarisse la rue #silena beauregard #ruegard #clarena #pjo fanfic #TLO #the last olympian #death

[kelyon]

Golden Rings 11: A Doctor

The Storybrooke sequel to Golden Cuffs

Mrs. Gold seeks some medical advice

Read on AO3 

Her horse thunders down the mountaintop. Cloak streaming behind her, her loose hair tangles in the wind. The leather satchel, in which she carries her most treasured possessions, bounces on her back. She kicks at her horse to make him go faster. Though unused to such urgency, the farm horse neighs and doubles his efforts. They go at a full gallop, bolting away from the castle, their home.

She has to look like she is afraid.

On the road in the forest, she comes upon a prince and his knights. They are travelling up the mountain she is coming down. She has seen this prince before, though he doesn’t know her. Her husband says she can trust the prince and his true love to always do what they think is good. This band of soldiers is armed to the teeth, but they are no threat to her. 

Not if she does this right.

“Oh thank the gods!” she cries when she sees them. Her voice is pitched with fear and relief. “You found me!”

The prince slows his horse to stop and talk to her. “Who are you?” he asks. “Did you come from the castle on top of the mountain?”

“I did!” Tears choke her voice, but her eyes are dry. “I used to live there. The Dark One, he--”

“The Dark One can’t hurt you anymore,” the prince says. He is kinder than most men in his position. “That monster has been defeated. He will never hurt anyone again.”

Behind the prince, the knights nod and laugh in agreement.

Now tears fill her eyes. “Is he dead?”

“He’s captured.” The man who speaks is dressed as a knight, but he has the stature and features of a dwarf. Atop a horse, he is at the prince’s right hand. He seems to speak with authority. “Not even his magic can get him out.”

She shudders. Hopefully, these men will think that she is overcome with terror at what the Dark One has done, and not at what might be done to him. 

“He kept me a prisoner.” She does not lie. “He did things to me, unspeakable things.”

Certainly unspeakable in polite company.

“Then don’t speak of it.” Again, the prince is kind. He could so easily dismiss her, be rude and condescending. But instead he is gentle, considerate. It is easy for a man to show compassion when a pretty girl presents herself as a victim. “You are safe now.”

“Are you going to the castle?” she asks.

“We are.” The prince straightens in his saddle. “We need to find out what other evils the Dark One might have brewing in his fortress.”

“You can’t!” This is far from the most crucial step of the plan, but it is the part she cares about the most. She does not want these men poking about in her husband’s things. “You will take your lives into your hands if you try to invade that place.”

 “We have protections against dark magic,” the dwarf-knight says. “The Blue Fairy herself enchanted our weapons and armor.”

“Is she here with you?” She looks over the knights, wide-eyed in her show of innocence. “Surely such a powerful force for good would want to oversee this victory herself. And of course it would be as safe for her as it is for all of you!”

The prince gives her a careful look and does not answer her question. “How did you escape?”

“Once the Dark One left the castle, nothing stopped me from sneaking out through the stables.” Nothing would have stopped her from leaving the castle even when he was in residence. It was her home and he never forced her to do anything. “But it is much more dangerous to get in than to get out. There are traps and wards and all kinds of dangers to those he doesn’t want to be there.”

The prince furrows his brow. “I’ve come to that castle univintied before.”

“He wanted you there,” she answers grimly. “They say he knows everything, that nothing happens that he hasn’t already foreseen.”

“He didn’t see our trap coming,” the dwarf says.

She covers her mouth so the men can’t see her stern face falter. Her husband saw through their plan to capture him from the very beginning. He practically put the idea into their heads. 

“You have no idea what he is capable of.” She says when she trusts herself to speak without smirking. “Please stay away from that place, for the sake of your own lives.” She looks at the prince. “I am already severed from my husband because of the Dark One’s devious machinations. I would not have any other bride lose the man she loves.”

He sits back at that. “You need to find your love?”

“I don’t know where he is!” Her voice breaks, and that is not a part of the act. “I would give anything to be with him again.”

“Do you know where he might be?”

Sitting on her horse, she is at eye level with the prince. Nevertheless, she makes an effort to look small and weak. Helpless. A damsel in need of rescuing. “He could be anywhere. He might be somewhere in the Queen’s kingdom. And the gods know what happens to people there.”

The prince’s mouth tightens into a hard line. “That woman is not a queen anymore,” he declares. “And that kingdom belongs to my wife.” He turns to his men. “Change of plans! We’re going to escort this young woman to safety. And then we’re going to remember who our real enemy is! We’ll redouble our efforts to take away the witch’s power so she can never hurt innocent people again!”

The knights cheer, all except for the gruff dwarf. “What about the Dark One’s castle? There could be some kind of weapon there that we could use to defeat her.”

“Yes, Grumpy, there might be,” the prince says. “But it could also blow up in our faces. Literally. I, for one, want to look upon my child before I die. We’re going back to Snow.”

On her farm horse, she rides along with the knights and the dwarf and the prince. Later, she is at a castle that is not her home. She is presented to the court. A pregnant woman  dressed in white sits on a throne. Her hair is as black as ebony and her lips are as red as blood. 

Her story is told, her plea for help heard. A talking cricket questions her. Nothing she tells him is a lie. Her husband is gone. She is afraid of the Evil Queen. The Dark One did things to her that none of them could ever imagine. She is good and she seeks a place in this haven they have created. 

A light shines over her. Floating, sparkling, blue light. It threatens to blind her if she looks at it too long or too closely. Through squinting eyes, she can see that the light is really a tiny person. 

No. Not a person. A fairy.

Her husband never had anything good to say about fairies.

The thing looks like a woman. It speaks with a woman’s voice. It flutters around her, examines her. It is trying to see into her soul, to judge whether she is worthy of kindness or trust. 

“You have been touched by dark magic,” the fairy says as it looks her over. “Penetrated by it. Deeply… over and over… everywhere…”

The stakes are too high for her to laugh at what the fairy says. She maintains a stone face.

“But your heart is full of love!” the fairy announces joyfully.  It addresses the crowd. “This is a pure soul, a good person. We must welcome her!”

The court claps and cheers. The woman in white stands to her feet. Holding her belly, she is assisted by the prince and a girl in a long red cloak.

She is embraced and greeted, welcomed to the fight against evil. Someone asks, “What is your name?” 

Before she can answer, everything fades away.

****

It was still dark when Mrs. Gold woke up. Her dream had been filled with light and color and noise. Waking up to blackness and near-silence was a shock.

More shocking, Mr. Gold was in bed with her. She felt the warmth and the weight of him on the mattress. Heard the gentle steadiness of his breathing. It must be early enough that he hadn’t woken up yet.

They had never been the sort of couple who copied each other’s nighttime routines. The trial of two people crowding around a tiny sink to brush their teeth at the same time had never come up in their marriage. Mr. Gold had always kept his own hours, and he allowed her to sleep whenever she wanted to. If her husband wanted her, he had no qualms about waking her up and putting her to work.

But lately, the differences in their schedules had become more pronounced. Sometimes Mr. Gold would stay in his study until she was already asleep. Or sometimes he would have the light turned off before she even came upstairs. No matter what time he went to bed, he always got up earlier than she did.

Almost every morning, she woke up to an empty bed. 

As her dream faded away, Mrs. Gold was left with a crucial memory: Her husband was gone from her. In the dream, the man she loved had been captured or kidnapped. Something terrible had happened to him. He was far away, but she would go to him and get him back. Now, in the real world, Mr. Gold was right next to her.

But she was running out of ways to reach him. 

How long had it been? She didn’t like keeping track of the days. That would just make all the changes in her life more real, and she didn’t want them to be real. If she didn’t know how long it had been, it would be easier to convince herself that it hadn’t been that long. This was just a fluke, a dry spell. It wasn’t as bad as she thought.

She could convince herself of that, until she remembered that Rent Day was this Sunday. Then she knew exactly how long it had been since her husband had last touched her. 

A month.

It had been a month without sex. A month without him. A month without punishments, lessons, or orgasms. A month since the last time she had gotten on her knees and kissed his shoes. A month since Mr. Gold had called her a good girl in that breathless, exhausted way he did when he was really satisfied, when he really meant it. 

A month since he had last looked at her like she was beautiful--or pathetic. Something to be treasured and degraded all at once. Those were always the best times, when he gave her both. Pleasure and pain, affection and malice, hot lust and cold disdain all at once. Perfect whore, he would call her then. Filthy angel, delectable cockslut. 

Mrs. Gold let out the faintest of moans. His voice could always bring her off. Now just thinking of it was enough to make her wet. His voice and his words and the way his lips curled  back like a warning. It always made tension coil inside her, as she waited for those words to become actions.

Before she could do anything stupid, Mrs. Gold pulled her hands up from under the covers. She clasped them together over her stomach on top of the blanket. That was one of the biggest rules: She was not allowed to touch herself for her own pleasure. 

She could tease herself, when Mr. Gold ordered her to. But she was never allowed to have an orgasm without him. Early in their marriage, it had taken her a while to remember all of Mr. Gold’s rules, and even longer to get into the habit of obeying him without question. He had been patient with her about many things, but he had no tolerance for her being self-centered with the body he had bought. 

Even in the middle of this weird patch they were going through, she knew better than to disobey. It wasn’t that she was afraid that Mr. Gold would punish her--if anything, she was becoming afraid that he wouldn’t. But who you really are is who you are when no one else is looking. She wanted to be Mr. Gold’s good girl. 

So she would follow the rules. Even if he wasn’t going to enforce them. She would do it because she wanted to.

She would do it because she loved him.

In the darkness, Mrs. Gold shut her eyes against the tears. She rolled over to her side, so she was facing her husband’s back. She wanted to reach out to him, to touch the soft silk of his pajamas. She wanted to curl up around him, throw her arm over her chest and let their legs get tangled up in each other. She wanted to cling to him and cry.

But she didn’t.

Pain sat heavy in her chest. It made it difficult to breathe. Mr. Gold didn’t like to be touched. And he hated her touching him without permission. Almost every time they had sex, he would make sure her hands were out of the way. Tied together, handcuffed to the furniture, tucked away under her body, or held under his own strong grasp. He could only relax when he knew she was under control. 

Clenching her jaw, Mrs. Gold got on her back again. She wasn’t allowed to touch him any more than she could touch herself. She really should just try to sleep.

But all of her tossing and turning must have disturbed Mr. Gold. While she was on her back, he rolled over to his other side. Now he was facing her. 

He wrapped his arm around her waist, as natural as breathing. Still asleep, he snuggled up to her body. His face buried into the nape of her neck. She felt his lips move against her skin as he murmured, “Sweetheart.”

Mrs. Gold let out a breath. 

The sudden contact--more touch and more gently than she had gotten in ages--brought tears to her eyes. And the words! Had Mr. Gold ever called her sweetheart? Had he ever said anything so loving before? This was like a dream. But she knew she was awake.

She didn’t move. She didn’t dare. She didn’t know how long this embrace would last. She didn’t know how long it might be before her husband touched her again.

Staying as still as she could, Mrs. Gold kept awake until dawn, savoring every stolen moment of her husband’s love. 

****

When she woke again, he was gone. Breakfast was normal. Mr. Gold acted with as much polite distance as he had for the past month. He didn’t seem to remember what he had done in the night. Or if he did, he wasn’t going to talk about it.

Mrs. Gold read the paper aloud, as always. There was a good write-up about the earthquake in the abandoned mines that had happened recently. The mayor’s kid had gotten stuck in a mine shaft and that blonde lady--she was Sheriff Graham’s deputy now--had gone in to rescue him. 

In other news Marco the handyman had fallen off a ladder in front of the hardware store while he was replacing a burnt out lightbulb. He had broken a bone and sought treatment at Storybrooke General Hospital.

“Huh,” Mrs. Gold said after finishing that article. “I never thought of that.”

“What’s that?” Mr. Gold took up the last bite of his eggs and toast. As usual, he wasn’t really looking at her. 

“Oh, it’s nothing important.” Nonchalance was as close to lying to him as she would ever dare. “I just… remembered that doctors exist.” She giggled. “It’s amazing the things you don’t think about. Or at least the things I don’t think about!” 

Normally--or what she used to think of as normally--Mr. Gold would have ordered her to stop playing dumb and tell him what was going on. He would remind her that he knew exactly how stupid she was. She couldn’t fool him by putting on the bimbo act she did for other people.

But today he just made a noncommittal sound and stood up to clear the breakfast dishes. Mrs. Gold stayed seated and let him move around her. She bit her lip and twisted her wedding ring over her finger.

It had been a month. She couldn’t pretend any longer. Something was wrong with her husband. And she had to find out what. 

 ****

The next day, she dressed to impress. Black silk thigh-highs with a line down the back, like old-time Hollywood bombshell. Shiny red heels that would match her red sunglasses. She even got out the black latex bra and garter belt she liked to wear on special occasions. With a tight black dress, cherry red lipstick, and a diamond bracelet, she was ready to go. 

All she needed was a wide-brimmed hat and a cigarette and she’d look like a goddamned femme fatale.

Mr. Gold blinked when she came down for breakfast, but he didn’t mention her outfit. That only strengthened her resolve. She had to get answers, and soon. 

They went their separate ways. Mr. Gold had taken some leftovers for his lunch at the shop. He gave her money and she assured him that she would go to Granny’s if she got hungry.

Her first stop was the drugstore to pick up her birth control. Not that she needed it, but you never knew when things could change. Unlike every other month for as long as she could remember, Mr. Gold hadn’t called in her prescription. When Tom Clark, the pharmacist, realized that she was going to wait in the store until he filled her prescription, he sneezed so hard he nearly blew his nose off. What a stupid little man.     

She killed time until lunch was well under way at the diner. It was a cold day, so she had to spend more time in stores than out on the streets. Even if she didn’t have Mr. Gold’s attention, she could still get a thrill out of the stir she could cause just by walking around in a getup like this. The sunglasses helped disguise the fact that she was watching people stare at her. 

The patio outside Granny’s was empty except for two pre-teen girls drinking hot chocolate. They were huddled up together, playing some sort of hand-held video game. 

“How are we supposed to prove that this is the real sacred urn of Kurain? You know the prosecution is going to want evidence.”

“It’s gotta be fingerprints.”

“But whose?”

She stopped and cocked her head at them. What kind of video game required evidence for the prosecution? Mrs. Gold had an easier time recognizing the girls than she did understanding their game. 

The blonde girl in the lime green puffy coat was Paige Lewis. She was the one holding the device that sounded out a stream of tension-filled music. Her parents owned a large house in New Town. Tim Lewis was an insurance salesman who had a debt with Mr. Gold that he paid extra to keep his wife from knowing about. Of course Paige didn’t have a clue about that. She was a kid, and rich enough to be carefree and happy.     

The other girl was owl-eyed and sallow-skinned. Her brown hair was lank and lifeless. Instead of a real coat, she was wearing an oversized insulated hoodie--the kind a man would wear for hazardous outdoor work. Lexi. Wasn’t that her name? Lexi Paisan. Her father had died in an accident at the cannery a few years ago. The mother, Suzy Paisan, was a waitress and a housemaid here at Granny’s. The rent was never late from them, but Lexi never had new clothes. She always looked cold and hungry.

Today was no exception.

Both girls noticed her looking at them. Paige turned off the game, and Lexi’s mouth dropped open. 

“Damn!” she said, with more energy than her sullen demeanor would have indicated possible. “You look like a million bucks!”

Mrs. Gold snorted and walked over to them. “Not that much, not in this outfit.”

Paige spoke next, “Wait, do you literally have a dress that costs a million dollars?”

“Not one dress, no. But I bet if you added up all my clothes and shoes and bags and jewelry together it would come pretty close.”

“That’s crazy.” Paige spoke like she was the complete authority on the subject.

She looks just like her mother.

Mrs. Gold blinked. Why had she thought that? Paige’s mother, Mia Lewis, was a thin, auburn-haired Realtor with hazel eyes. Paige had a mop of curly blonde hair, beautifully plump cheeks, and dark eyes that sparkled with a specific type of knowing mischief. She was a pretty girl, but she didn’t take after her mother at all. 

Weird. 

Lexi was still staring at Mrs. Gold. “How do you walk in shoes that tall?”

Smirking, she lifted one foot off the ground to give the girls a better look at her heels. “Practice. And your feet get numb after a while.”

“Is that healthy?” Paige asked.

“Nope.”

Lexi nodded her approval. “Badass.” 

Mrs. Gold snorted again. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

“How much did those shoes cost?” Lexi asked. 

She didn’t answer. This pair of designer heels had been a gift from Mr. Gold. She had seen an ad for them in one of her magazines and pointed them out to him. He said that he would buy them for her, if she let him make her thighs as shiny and cherry-red as the shoes themselves. When she agreed, he took off his belt and had her lift up her skirt right then and there. Her legs were still bright red when he had finished fucking her, and the bruises had lasted for weeks. 

That was how much these shoes had cost.

Instead of saying any of that, Mrs. Gold put on her widest smile. “Shouldn’t you guys be in school?”

Paige furrows her eyebrows. “It’s Thanksgiving break. We’re off until Monday.”

“Oh.” 

Weird that the major holiday at the end of November could completely pass her by. But it checked out. Thanksgiving was tomorrow. And Rent Day was this Sunday. And it had been a month since Mr. Gold had fucked her. 

“Well,” she kept smiling. “I guess that’s what happens when you don’t go to school anymore! I’ll let you girls get back to your game.” 

****

Inside the diner, every table was full. Mrs. Gold took a moment to survey the scene. Leroy Miner and a few other rough-and-tumble working men lined the bar stools. Ruby Lucas was on the phone with orders for take out. Suzy Paisan walked past with a tray on each arm. And in a booth by the window, Doctors Hopper, Atwell, and Whale were lunching together and arguing.

Perfect. 

Without missing a beat, Mrs. Gold walked up to the table with the best view of the booths. There was already a customer at the table. Keith Sherwood, who never had his rent in on time. He was a younger man, scruffy and unkempt--like almost every man in Storybrooke. He had oddly pursed lips and a chin that looked like a butt. She’d always hated him.

“I want to sit here,” she announced coldly. “Alone.”

And that was all she needed to say. Bug-eyed, Keith swallowed the bite he had been chewing. He nodded vigorously and stood up.

“Yes, Mrs. Gold.”

He held out the chair he had been sitting in, but she walked around to the other side of the table and took her place. Delicately, she pushed away the plate where he still had half a tuna melt and a few scattered fries. 

“Let me clear that for you, Mrs. Gold.” Keith picked up his dishes and silverware and looked around frantically for a place to put them.

“Aren’t you going to tip your waitress?” She examined her fingernails, only slightly disappointed that she was missing the show of Keith trying to grab his wallet while still holding on to his garbage.

Somehow he managed. When she looked up, there were a few crumpled ones on the empty table and Keith was out of sight. 

She barely had time to pull out her purse before Ruby came running out from behind the counter with a pad and pen at the ready.

“Hello, Mrs. Gold! What can I do for you today?”

God, was it only a month ago that she had been shaking down little Ruby for her grandmother’s rent? A lot had changed since then. 

Mrs. Gold did not smile at Ruby. Instead, she placed one fifty dollar bill on the table. “I want a pumpkin spice latte, skim milk.” She set down another fifty. “Burgers and fries for those little girls on the patio.” Another bill. “And when Dr. Whale is done with his ‘meeting of the minds,’ you’ll let him know that his check has been taken care of.” Setting down the last fifty, Mrs. Gold looked up at the waitress’ bulging eyes. “And you will keep this all to yourself. Won’t you, Ruby?”

The cash was in Ruby’s apron pocket so fast it might have never been on the table at all. “Absolutely, Mrs. Gold.”

She rolled her eyes behind her sunglasses. 

**** 

As she sipped her too-sweet latte, Mrs. Gold observed the doctors in the booth on the other side of the restaurant. Every Wednesday, the shining stars of the Storybrooke health community met for lunch. Lunch and a ritual re-hashing of the exact same argument every week.

Dr. Atwell was the shortest and oldest of the three men, with gray hair and reading glasses. He had a high-pitched, piercing voice that carried over the bustle of the diner.

“You can’t deny the truth, Archie, and this is the oldest saying in the book: You’re not a real doctor if you haven’t delivered a baby!”

Dr. Hopper shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly. “If that’s the case, then you’re more a doctor than Victor.”

Dr. Whale made a face like he was wounded. “Well, Roy has an unfair advantage! Puppies come out seven at a time!”

All three men laughed. It was eventually agreed, as it was every Wednesday, that they would invite Phillipa Sherman to start coming to these lunches. Then the vet, the shrink, and the medical practitioner could all band together and taunt her for being a lowly dentist.

Shockingly, Dr. Sherman never made an appearance. 

Eventually, they gathered their coats, and Dr. Hopper’s umbrella, and went to the cash register to pay. Dr. Whale was last in line. After a moment of murmured conversation with Ruby, the good doctor looked over at Mrs. Gold.

He began to walk toward her, but before he got to her table she was already on her feet and out the door. 

On the patio, Paige and Lexi were hunched over their game again. The plates on the table in front of them were empty except for smears of ketchup and honey mustard.

Without looking behind her, Mrs. Gold strutted around the corner to the alleyway between Granny’s Diner and the Atlantic Twine and Net store. She leaned against the brick wall across from the dumpster with one foot propped back at an angle behind her. Perfectly casual.

Dr. Whale didn’t keep her waiting long. He followed her into the alley, his usually purposeful stride fumbling a little in this new circumstance. 

“Mrs. Gold.” He kept his hands in his coat pockets, maintained as respectful a distance as the cramped alley would allow. “I understand I owe you lunch.”

She lowered her sunglasses to meet his eyes. He wasn’t bad-looking, if you liked cocky young blondes. Evidence suggested that quite a few ladies around Storybrooke did. 

“You’re doing me a favor just by talking to me, Doctor.” She tossed her hair to expose her neck, watched his genial smile falter into something more serious. How much did he like what he saw?

He cleared his throat. “Is there… something I can do for you?”

 Mrs. Gold pushed off the wall and sauntered closer to him. She made her hips sway as she moved and watched his eyes follow the motion. Slowly, she brought her hand to her mouth, rubbed her thumb over her lower lip. Thank God this lipstick was smear-proof.

“There is something I want to ask you.” She kept her voice breathy, soft. Whale had to lean in to hear her. “But it’s… kind of naughty.”

The noise Whale made in the back of his throat sent a bolt of lightning through her. Not to her libido, but to her ego. Sex appeal was the only power she had, and it had been a solid month since she’d gotten a chance to really use it. 

When Whale was able to speak, his voice was thick and heavy. “I can be naughty.”

Mrs. Gold giggled and reached out to finger the lapel of his coat. It wasn’t bad, a navy blue wool blend. Not as high quality as any of Mr. Gold’s coats, but respectable. And it fit him, which was half the work of looking good in clothes.  

“See,” she said as she closed in the space between their bodies. “The thing I want…”

“Yeah?” They were too close for her to focus on all of Whale’s face, but she could see that his lips were twitching. He was getting excited, but he kept his hands in his pockets like a good boy.  

“I want…” She ran her hand up his collar and stretched out her finger to brush against his ear lobe. “Mr. Gold’s medical records.”

“What?” Dr. Whale straightened up and jerked away. “You--you want what?”

She stood her ground, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re his doctor. He’s my husband. I believe I have a right to know if there’s something wrong.”

Whale ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a long breath. “Oh, that was more effective than a cold shower,” he muttered. Then he looked at Mrs. Gold. “Was that what this was about the whole time?”

“Maybe,” she shrugged. “Depends on how well it worked.”

“Yeah, but just to be clear,” he said. “This is not a quid pro quo situation, is it? You were never going to deliver on any of that enticing body language.”

“Not unless Mr. Gold wanted me to.”

“And he doesn’t, does he?” Whale looked her over. For the first time since he entered the alley, he appeared to be using his brain. “He doesn’t know you’re talking to me.”

Mrs. Gold swallowed. Then she put on a smile. “It would be very nice of you not to mention it. I’d hate to give Mr. Gold a reason not to trust you!”

Whale opened his mouth, then closed it. He nodded, understanding the way she had set it up. The moment he had walked into an alley with another man’s wife, he had lost any moral high ground he might have ever had. 

“So,” he said slowly. “Whatever happens here… it stays between us. Does that work out for you, Mrs. Gold?”

She stuck out her hand and he shook it. “Deal,” she said brightly. 

Sighing, Whale stuck his hands back in his coat pockets. “I hope you know I can’t just pass out copies of my patient’s medical history.”

“That’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need a paper trail or anything. I just…” she trailed off. She had put so much effort into getting some answers, and now that she had the chance she didn’t even want to ask the questions. 

She took a breath and dug her fingernails into her palms. She had to do this. Her marriage was in trouble and she had to know why.

“I just need to know if Mr. Gold is sick.” When Whale didn’t say anything, she kept going until everything came bubbling out. “I don’t know if it might be heart disease, or somehow his leg got worse or if it’s like a hormone problem or ca--” She choked over the last word, the greatest fear, the enemy that could never be defeated, the war that would never be won or even survived. “Or something worse. And he won’t talk to me about anything and he’s acting strange and we haven’t…” Again she stopped, this time in embarrassment instead of fear. She took off her sunglasses and looked up at Dr. Whale. For the first time in a while, she said something truly honest. “It’s just been really hard for us lately. And I want to know if there’s a medical reason for it.” 

With a deep breath and a small nod, Dr. Whale seemed to come to a decision. He stepped a little closer to Mrs. Gold. Not as close as they had been, but a professional distance. Neutral--not attracted, not repulsed.  

“Mrs. Gold, I need you to understand something,” he began. “The breach of doctor-patient confidentiality is a death sentence for my profession. I could lose my licence to practice and I’d never be able to work again. And I need to work.” His chuckle was tinged with bitterness. “I’ve been a doctor for as long as I can remember and I still haven’t paid off my student loans.”

“How terribly sad for you,” Mrs. Gold said through gritted teeth. She tried not to think about how lucky he was to have student loans. To have even gotten a chance at higher education. Some people’s life savings, including their kid’s college funds, got swallowed up in medical bills. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“That’s what I’m saying, I can’t,” he said. “I can’t tell you about anything that was mentioned in any appointment with your husband. Not without his permission.”

Mrs. Gold felt the pumpkin spice latte curdle in her stomach. “You mothe--”

“But!” Dr. Whale cut her off. “I can tell you if certain subjects were not mentioned. Do you get what I mean?”

“Think about who I’m married to before you ask me again if I understand loopholes.” Instead of any relief or gratitude, all Mrs. Gold could feel was irritation boiling into anger. 

“Right.” He smiled, trying to diffuse the situation. Pathetic. “That being understood, I’m very happy to tell you that I have never spoken to Mr. Gold about heart disease. We’ve never had a reason to discuss hormone imbalances, urological problems, erectile dysfunction--”

“I never said that!”

“Neither did I,” he said with the calm of an ER surgeon. “This whole conversation is about conversations that didn’t happen.” He put one hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eye. “And I’ve never spoken to Mr. Gold about cancer.”

She tried to keep her face frozen. But that was hard to do when her legs were shaking. Mrs. Gold closed her eyes and let herself fall back against the bricks. 

She breathed, for what felt like the first time in days. 

He was safe. He wasn’t sick. She wasn’t going to lose him. Not like that, at least. 

“Thanks,” she said softly. “I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear that.”

Dr. Whale grinned. “Best part of being a doctor is making people feel better. That and getting to play God.”

He laughed at his own joke, but Mrs. Gold didn’t react. She was still waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. 

“Listen,” Whale said. “You mentioned that Mr. Gold wasn’t talking to you about things and you were worried. Now, I know we give Archie hell about not being a real doctor, but talking to him does help people.”

Mrs. Gold glared up at Dr. Whale. “I’m not crazy,” she said with determination.

“No, I don’t think you are,” he answered. “But you don’t have to be mentally ill to have problems in your marriage.”

She pushed off from the wall and rounded on him, brandishing her sunglasses under his chin like a switchblade. “Who said anything about problems with my marriage?”

Whale backed out of the alley. “N-no one, Mrs. Gold. But--But it is my job to offer you the best advice I can based on the information I’m presented with.”

“Well you did your job then. Good for you. Do you want a fucking lollipop?”

Before Whale could say anything more, Mayor Mills walked into the mouth of the alley. “What is going on here?” she demanded of them both. “Dr. Whale, did you forget that you have an appointment with my son today?”

Thrown from one infuriated woman to another, Whale had to think for a moment before he recovered himself. “Ye-yes of course, Madam Mayor. Henry’s appointment is at two.”

“And it’s almost one-thirty now.” The mayor had a fascinating way of speaking that turned facts into accusations. “I imagine you want to head back to the hospital so you can review his file before you examine him.”

“Uh, yes. Yes of course,” Whale shook his head. “I definitely don’t want to be here.” He nodded to Mrs. Gold before scurrying around the mayor and all but sprinting down the street. 

“And you.” 

Mayor Mills was the sort of person who was always in charge because it was just so obvious that she should be. She could pin someone to the wall just by using the right tone of voice or raising an eyebrow or putting her hands on her hips. Mrs. Gold knew she wasn’t exempt from that power.

But, when the mayor spoke again, her voice was gentler, almost sweet. It was like she cared. Mrs. Gold suddenly got the notion that the mayor had just as many carrots as she had sticks and that she knew very well how to use both.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Gold? You seem upset.” The furrow of her brow was practically sympathetic. “I hope there isn’t any trouble at home.”

She wanted to say something. Maybe Whale was right, maybe she needed to talk to someone about what was going on with Mr. Gold. And if you couldn’t trust the mayor, who could you trust? But in the back of her head, some voice insisted: No. Not Regina! 

So she didn’t break. She didn’t say anything. Mrs. Gold put on her sunglasses, and for a hot second she felt the way Lexi Paisan had described her earlier. She felt badass.

“Nope,” she lied to Mayor Mills. “Everything’s fine.”   

#golden rings #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #ouat #belle french

[irhinoceri]

I read “I Am The Messenger” by Markus Zusak several years ago, sometime between 2002 and 2005 (because I know it wasn’t brand new when I read it but I’m pretty sure “The Book Thief” hadn’t been published yet) and at the time I loved the book. I thought it was amazing. I vaguely remember thinking the ending was a bit anticlimactic, that the resolution to the mystery of who was sending the cards felt unsatisfying, but I loved the rest of the book so much I felt like hardly mattered.

Well... gosh.... hmmmm. I have very complicated feelings now, because I listened to the audiobook, and though the narrator being Australian really gave it that perfect voice that I wasn’t able to achieve in my head when I first read it, it was a slog. I thought about turning it off several times because I just couldn’t.... stand.... it.

And it’s making me think again about The Literary Discourse posts about whether a story is good or bad based on the moral conduct of the main character. And while Ed is certainly not the most unlikeable character ever, the really problematic aspects of both him as a protagonist and a POV character leapt out at me in 2021 the way they almost completely went past me in the early 00s. I was younger, I was far more conservative, so even reading books with swearing and sex and violence in them felt kind of revolutionary to me at the time, but still. I am trying to remember what it was that I liked about it.

Part of the problem is the textbook case of The Friendzone that runs throughout the book re: Ed being in love with Audrey who considers him her best friend and refuses to have a sexual relationship with him, though she comes to him for emotional intimacy and the sort of borderline sexual intimacy of being barely clothed around him, getting drunk and sleeping with him (platonically) all while maintaining vigorous sexual relationships with other boyfriends, who mostly go unnamed because they don’t matter.

In the end, of course, Audrey finally relents and comes to him and they get together, which feels hollow to me because a far more satisfying outcome would be for Ed to learn to move on and find someone else, or at least to let Audrey go (which he ostensibly does, but then he is “rewarded” for letting her go by her finally being willing to start a sexual relationship with him). And I’m just going.... why can’t he let her go and that’s it? Why can’t it be that he lets go of the desire to have a relationship she is not willing to give, and it truly does free him? That is a wonderful feeling. I’ve been “in the friendzone” as a girl in love with guys who valued me as a friend but found me sexually unappealing, and never once did it turn out where they finally woke up one day to realize that the emotional connection we had was more important than the sexual chemistry they had with the girls they actually wanted to date. You know what feels like Growth? The point where you realize that you don’t actually Want to date that person anymore, and the point where you are free from the desire and the unrequited yearning.

I wish more stories with Friendzone plots had the guts to end the story that way. Even (or especially) in a case like this where she’s constantly telling him that he’s her best friend and the only person she loves and that’s why she’d can’t have a sexual relationship with him and coming to him at night for cuddling after she’s had E rated fic levels of sex with her “boyfriend” she doesn’t Love.... like jeezus I do feel bad for the guy in the Friendzone when the story is framed like that, you know? And this is probably how most incels think of themselves, as the long suffering Only True Gentleman who is Better than the Chad getting all the pussy (even while he’s overcome with lust whenever the Love Interest enters the scene and we have at least a few sentence describing her hips and legs and breasts).

Anyway, at this point this particular phenomenon has been debated, hashed out, disproven, what have you.... so to re-read a story where it’s so firmly romanticized and realize I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it the first time around it was an eye-opener. I was torn between disgust at the protagonist for his constant objectification of Audrey and disgust with him for allowing her to emotionally manipulate him for literal years while she fucked around and kept him her back pocket (thus the near perfect embodiment of the highly sexual yet unattainable friendzoner). I was never rooting for them to become a couple. I was always rooting for Ed to get over her or for her to leave him him alone.

The other thing that really got to me was how Ed was stalking literally everyone in the story, including a 15 year old girl whom he lusted after despite repeatedly saying he wasn’t a creep and he wasn’t doing it For Those Reasons.... but it was Okay because stalking people to help them was the point of the whole story.

(Quick plot beak down... after foiling a bank robbery, 19-year-old taxi driver (it was 2002 so he’s basically an Uber driver) Ed Kennedy starts getting playing cards with cryptic messages on them, in the form of addresses or clues to addresses, and when he goes and stalks the people who live there, he figures out some way they need help in their lives and helps them, thus growing in confidence as a person along the way.)

At the end he’s helped a lot of people and learned to be a better person, almost a la Bill Murray in Groundhog Day... and the only thing left is to find out who has been sending him the playing cards and orchestrating events all along. Without spoiling it, the answer is very unsatisfying and unclear. It’s almost a precursor to the narrator/character of Death in “The Book Thief” but far less defined and a bit more like “Stranger Than Fiction” in a boring way.

The other thing that kept driving my a little crazy was the fact that Ed was only 19. I felt like I was reading about a guy in his 30s. He just felt like such an Old and Jaded character, and granted some 19-year-olds have lived harder lives or whatever... but also he had his own apartment and full time job and a close knit circle of friends he met up with in person regularly... and yet it was hammered home again and again that he was a loser. A pathetic person who hadn’t accomplished anything in life and never would.

Granted, it was 2002 when this book was published. But a 19-year-old with their own apartment and job? In THIS economy? And THREE (3) IRL friends whom he gets together with on a regular basis??? Okay so he’s not having sex, big deal. This guy is a fucking success by any millennial barometer, though I suppose a 19-year-old in 2002 would be a Gen Xer?? Hmmmm no I turned 17 in 2002 and I’m a millennial so... whatever. Tangent.

Anyway, the whole book hinges on this idea that he’s a total loser and needs to learn to.... connect with people... and make a difference in the world.... and ok look I’m not saying he shouldn’t be aspiring to bigger things than being an Uber driver, but I have a 39 year old friend who is an Uber driver! And he’s a cool guy and a smart person and is valued by his friends! It’s Okay! To have! A service job! And also he’s going back to school and trying to get his life back on track and all, which is good, and I’m not saying Ed shouldn’t do the same thing or whatever. But I don’t know, this story just feels so much more like it would hit harder if the protagonist was in his mid 30s instead of 19. I just felt like telling everyone, the author included, to chill the fuck out and lay off Ed for not being the fucking poet laureate of Australia (is that a thing?) or surgeon general at 19 years old, a year after his alcoholic father died. I will say it again: JEEZUS.

Also also there’s a pretty disturbing rape plot where Ed must save a woman from her rapist husband, and I’m not gonna say that much about it beyond the fact that hopefully we, as a society, can progress past rape plots that revolve around an outside male observer. I mean, good on anyone who tries to help someone who is currently trapped in a domestic abuse situation, but the particular way that plot was handled in this story was just all kinds of gross and it gets even worse in retrospect at the end.

This post is not meant as literary criticism. I have an English degree and I know that this post would not hold up as a paper by any stretch of the imagination, it would get an F as a work of literary criticism, this is just me thinking about how I feel now versus how I felt nearly 20 years ago when I loved this book.

#word vomit rambling #personal thoughts

[kaediisarchive]

[ kiss skarlet | still accepting ]

@fatalistyc​ said: [ FIRST ] : our muses kiss for the first time. // from Hanzo @ fatalystic

Cut for length!

          ❝ Why are you so insistent on finding new ways to frustrate me !? ❞

          Hanzo’s words cause her head to tilt, a huff flushing through her mouth in disbelief. Arms cross over her chest, and her weight sways to favor one hip over the other. Though Hanzo was known as a gruff figure, he was not always so displeased. But for some reason, from the moment they arrived back at the Fire Garden after an encounter with forces from the Netherrealm, he seemed particularly upset with Skarlet. Something she’d done had troubled him in a way she had not before, thus she found it necessary to confront him that night as the rest of the Shirai Ryu lay sleeping. 

          His answer was not what she was looking for.

          ❝ I’m a grown woman, and I can do whatever I damn well please. ❞

          ❝ Not when it involves recklessly endangering your life for no reason! ❞

          ❝ Endangering my life frustrates you? I am a trained fighter. Of great skill, no less. Combat is child’s play for me, Hanzo. ❞

          ❝ It almost cost you your life today! Had I not intervened, you would have-- ❞ He grows quiet as if an invisible hand has gripped his throat.  ❝ He would have killed you. ❞

          ❝ I would have survived. ❞

          ❝ Even if you would have, I had no way to know that. For all I knew, I was about to watch you die! And I would have died a thousand times before I let that happen! ❞

          Skarlet stands in silence. The taut annoyance that contorted her face begins to soften into greater understanding as she picks apart the depths of his words within her mind. Hanzo’s head is bowed as if he’s ashamed of something; like a dreadful weakness of his has been exposed. His heart, ripped out of his chest and put on display in a rush of emotions that he did not intend to unleash. But it was too late. She sees it. She sees the true source of his concern. He was not frustrated because he was perplexed by her reckless behavior, he was frustrated because he had been dragged to the boundary of a nightmare.

          And she feels it. She feels his fear in his pacing heart.

          But why? Why such a protective reaction for her? Why was her life worth more than that of anyone else on the field? Warriors fall in battle every day. Hanzo was surely accustomed to it. There’s a hypothesis on the tip of her tongue, and it isn’t the first time she’s made such a guess. There have been several times where she’s felt certain signals from Hanzo, but she could never confirm her suspicions before, whether because her imaginings were too ambiguous or because she was too uncertain of herself to assume as much. Now, it was much harder to deny, and the evidence piles itself inside her head. A change in demeanor when around each other. The way his presence comforted her. The way he was always the first to defend her honor when called into question. How she feels whenever their skin so happens to touch, like she’s been kissed by tangible sunset. The magnetic spark she feels every time their eyes meet. How fast he always is to look away when he realizes he’s lingered too long, as if caught doing something illicit.

          Even now the idea stirs butterflies in her stomach. Tantalizing, but never allowed to take over. Never acknowledged, because surely it was all her just her fanciful imagination.

          Right . . . ?

           ❝ I am sorry, Skarlet, ❞  Hanzo sighs in defeat, his eyes still downcast.  ❝ It was not my intention to make it seem like I doubt your abilities. I do not. You are a powerful warrior. I should not have let my fear overcome me. ❞

           ❝ Fear of what, Hanzo? ❞  Skarlet’s question is spoken with the softest voice she can muster. Her left hand reaches to caress his face, cupping it gently in comfort.

           ❝ Of losing you. ❞

          The air between them is thick and charged with unspoken emotions. Skarlet can feel the atmosphere between them shift and swirl. Time comes to a halt in that moment, moonlight beaming through the opened shōji to bathe them both in the light of a celestial goddess. The only sound that fills this still moment in time is the sound of the howling wind guiding fallen petals and leaves in a dance and the escalating drum of two hearts.

           ❝ I’m sorry, Hanzo. I shouldn’t have worried you. ❞ Skarlet is the first to break her silence, fingers brushing gently against the edges of Hanzo’s jaw.  ❝ Throughout my life, I’ve grown used to being seen as expendable. It’s never been an issue for me to risk my life because I’ve never had someone who would miss me. No one that made me feel like they would care whether I lived or died. ❞

          Hanzo’s face rises ever so slowly from it’s downcast gaze. His eyes, glistening with memories of loss and preemptive grief, meet hers at last. He lingers, and this time, he does not pull away. So many months were spent with Hanzo treating Skarlet as if she were a forbidden fruit he must resist and Skarlet similarly holding Hanzo on a pedestal as if he was too good for her. But now, stripped of all the pretension and denial and stubbornness on both their parts, they are simply human. Two deeply flawed individuals that lived lives rife with loneliness and despair, who now found comfort in each other.

           His hands slip between their forms, and he brings them to cup the sides of Skarlet’s jaw, mirroring how she caressed him. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as if he is handling delicate porcelain.

            ❝ I care. ❞

          Their eyes do not part as their bodies draw nearer, eventually enveloping each other in an embrace. It’s as if neither is aware of what’s truly happening, being fully engulfed by their shared presence as an invisible force pulls them together. Their lips meet, and it’s in that meeting that they share their unspoken confessions. Slow, burning passion steals their sense of time as they are lost in each other. It is not lust that overcomes them, but a feeling of deep longing born from the heart; two hardened souls, finally putting aside their denial and allowing themselves the be loved. A serious of kisses is the most salacious thing that occurs that night, but she chooses to sleep in his embrace rather than returning to her own bed. And in Hanzo’s arms, she has her first night of peaceful sleep in over a decade. In his arms, the darkness that has consumed her for most of her life cannot reach her. 

          For the first time in her life, Skarlet smiles when she sees the light of morning.

#fatalistyc #[hanzo ; fatalistyc] #[ic] #[mortal kombat ; 004] #this turned into a long ass drabble because feels hit me BIG TIME T-T

[lady-plantagenet]

Unsolicited Book Reviews (n4): The Daisy and the Bear

Rating:

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Even before I had an account, I tended to go to tumblr to see people’s opinions before buying a histfic. Certain books are either severely underrepresented, where I feel like there needs to be something on them, whereas others, though talked about enough, something more can still be said about them. So for my quarantine fun, I have decided to start a series where I review every medieval historical fiction novel I read. Hopefully, it will either start interesting discussions or at least be some help for those browsing its tag when considering purchasing it.

TL;DR: Just like ‘Death Be Pardoner To Me’, I really don’t know how to rate a book that isn’t a ‘novel’ in the traditional sense of the word. So I take each book and measure it against what it promises to deliver. This spoof of the Wars of the Roses did just that perfectly! I found myself laughing out loud at least every three pages (a feat for me). I decided to buy this book because I was a long-time reader of the author’s blog: A Nevill Feast, and despite it being a super informative and enlightening blog (she is also a published historian), I always found her humour extremely amusing. The ‘brow height’ of the jokes in this spoof, are of all levels, but almost always smart.

Plot: Alright, who doesn’t love a good crackship? Well be prepared for a crackship so heightening it’s almost cocaine: Margaret of Anjou and Richard Neville 16th Earl of Warwick. This is not even the only thing you will find in the chaotic but short (153 page) spread of this ‘novel’. You will get witchy ‘Elizabeth Woodville Grey Witch Plantagenet Queen’ ‘s love at first sight with Edward ‘The Rose of Ruin’ IV, who (naturally) cannot be mentioned without the words ‘blonde, tall and womanising’ being thrown in; You will also get a random stand-up comedy routine thrown by the Nevilles called ‘A Very Nevill Christmas’, Edgecote Moor, Edward’s capture, the Welles uprising and the Nevilles’ and Clarence’s escape to France summarised in text messages and a whole two-page chapter written in a northern accent! This is frankly what everyone needs in those gloomy times!

It essentially sticks to what actually happens except for the whole Margaret/Warwick thing, which ends up in Edward of Westminster being Warwick’s secret son. This doesn’t really change anything of course, but the part where he and Anne Neville find out and end up playing a prank on the parents is one of the hilights of this book! Is that too spoilery? Oh well. Before moving to characterisation, there is also this absolutely hilarious OC called Dakota FitzPercy which is the ultimate parody of all OCs in historical fiction: all men are overcome with lust just by looking at her even though she’s dressed in men’s garb half of the time (and for no reason!), as Warwick’s spy she knows martial arts as she was ooobviouslyy trained in Cathay and she has an unnecessarily tragic backstory! Of course like most OCs she adds NOTHING to the story and is therefore the perfect parody.

Characterisation: What really really elevates this book in my eyes and rating is that it is so obviously a parody of historical fiction and not the figures themselves. A goodreads reviewer (who I have a lot of respect for btw) has said that this book often crosses the line into ‘defaming the dead’. With all due respect, I have to disagree as it is some of the portrayals in ‘serious’ historical fiction novels about these characters, which are the true offenders. This is what is being lampooned here and, as such, the book defends their reputations by drawing attention to how silly and sometimes downright offensive some authors’ takes on people like Warwick, Margaret of Anjou and Elizabeth Woodville are.

I can’t tell you how much I laughed at ‘Frail and Angelic © Dickon or Richard’ being so frail and angelic and good, Isabel Neville constantly being reffered to as a ‘prawn’ on her father’s ‘cheeseboard’ (obviously at the hackneyed use of the phrase ‘pawns on a chessboard’, which is incessantly repeated with regards to female characters). Among others: Clarence constantly knocking over his wine when he’s not drinking it, Anne Beauchamp constantly being reffered to as ‘pale and insipid’ (no other reason just because she’s a woman ergo...), Edward IV constantly sleeping with everyone around him, Cecily ‘the Rose of Rabies’ being beautiful, proud and pious (her only three personality traits). Don’t even get me started on Margaret of Anjou’s obnoxious French accent (rofl- it turns into a German one by the end) and nonesensical sluttiness. Another fav part must be the one with Elizabeth Woodville offering to call up a fog at Barnet and Edward being something like ‘well you know, it’s true that they won’t see anything but neither will we. I don’t think you understand how important vision is in a battle’ (like damn straight why has no one even bothered to mention this). Overall, humorous characterisation is done best by someone so well-versed in the history as the author (K L Clark), because she really does a good job teasing out some jokes which only seasoned conoisseurs of this period would know e.g. the Countess of Salisbury’s attainder.

Prose: Probably the crowning virtue of this book. The author does not only aptly parody the portrayal of these figures in popular histfic, but she EVEN PARODIES THE PROSE. I couldn’t stop laughing whenever we got the ridiculously gratuitous smut extract - you know the ones where the author describes the act in such a ridiculous and metaphorical manner that you don’t even understand what’s happening. She also parodies the repetitive and long-winded tell-don’t-show prose with such mastery it gave me great satisfaction.

An example: “This all made Richard of Dickson sad because he loved his brothers, though he loved Edward more than he loved George. He also loved his cousin, Richard Lord Neville of Warwick. He loved him more than George but less than Edward. He also loved the Earl of Warwick’s daughter, Anne. A lot. He wished his brother had let him marry Anne against his wishes at the same time that George married Anne’s sister Isobel (also the Earl of Warwick’s daughter), though he handn’t let him marry her either, against his wishes or not. It was all making his heart ache so very much”

Not to mention the over-written prose: ‘A bag drips with the blood, hangs from the saddle of a horse whose animal innocence shields it from the horrors of its burden. Black hearted Clifford chortles as he rides, his prize, his gift, his paeon, his song to his mistress oozing, dripping calaminous blood’

I’ll stop now before I get accused of copyright (not sure how it works but oh well).

One last thing I will say is that each chapter varies in type of prose, sometimes it’s written as a play, a soliloquy, first person and sometimes even text messages and letters hahaha.

Overall, A massively chaotic but enjoyably written and quite intelligent hodgepodge. I may have revealed a lot in this review, but this does not even scratch the surface of the multitude of other gags you will find inside! Highly recommend for anyone already familiar with this period and with a sense of humour! Now excuse me while I go back and read something serious lmao

#lady-plantagenet’s book reviews #also highly recommend it to anyone considering writing histfic #just to be aware of some tropes you might want to avoid #also got a weird version of gisabel - I’m content #The Daisy and the Bear #historical fiction #margaret of anjou #richard neville earl of warwick #warwick the kingmaker #KL Clark #spoof #wars of the roses

[beneaththetangles]

Higurashi, Lent and the Martyrs

Where did it all go wrong? As the events of Higurashi no Naku Koro ni (When They Cry) reset again and again to square one, like an inadvertent Goundhog Day, protagonist Keiichi Mabara repeatedly asks himself this question. Caught in a murder spree of some sort or another, with a different friend of his group involved each time, touches that suggest that something not of this world may be going on. The small village of Himinazawa, with its cornfields and its forests, the countryside school with only a few children, the small clinic, the restaurant, and the local festival of Watanagashi provide the environment of this tightly-constructed horror story of an evil to be released when the cidadas cry.

I should probably begin by pointing out that Higurashi is a quite gory show, full of spilled blood, crushing sounds, and entrails—so gory I almost dropped it twice—with an eerie atmosphere in its everyday scenes (sort of like Serial Experiments Lain—a little too pale, a little too bright). It features compelling characters whose personalities unveil in time; themes of child abuse and estrangement, superstition, torture, mental illness, demonic possesion and murder; and the intelligent planning that the works based on 07th Expansion Visual Novels always deliver, toying with different horror story or murder mystery explanations for the events shown again and again from different perspectives.

Despite this, and of it reminding me of Erased, one of my favorite series, at times I could barely put up with the show: If I didn’t drop it just like Medieval Otaku did a year ago, it was only because I cheated and I investigated some aspects of the story beforehand (and not even that got me through Umineko, the other 07th Expansion horror classic), and I knew that the story valued these characters and was invested in saving them in some way, and not just quartering them psychologically or literally for the thrill of it, as does the infamous “torture porn.”

While I’m still not sure if I like it as a whole, it surely has provided me something to think about just before the Lenten season. After all, the original Lent story also has to do with an unspeakable evil confronting Our Lord when He was physically and mentally pushed to the extreme, an evil that frequently crushes us with its deceit and its horror, and of an unlikely plan of salvation that may bring us the truth about ourselves and others, confronting an evil that transcends time with an even more powerful force, uniting and bringing us salvation. And for us here and now on this Earth, Lent is also a cycle, a year-to-year repetition in the midst of our everyday world as the feast of Watanagashi and the perpetually resetting world of Higurashi are in different ways.

The cycle of Lent and the challenges we face, some self-imposed, some external, are thus an opportunity to meditate and remember what kind of story we are living, benefiting from the knowledge of our previous iterations; what lies and illusions may we, or the world around us, be trapped into, and what should we fight to change in the path of conversion; to fight the kind of devils that do not go out except by prayer and fasting; and to repent and take a different path. And some of it depends on the way we live the path towards the feast—which even if the Good Friday and Watanagashi are almost opposites, involves in both cases a cruel sacrifice and a hidden meaning—on the way we celebrate it, and on the way we live its consequences. As pilgrimage, in a way Lent represents our life on Earth as a whole, marked by grief, evil, love, and hope.

Just as some shows are to be enjoyed from the beginning to the end, some are to be endured at times if you want to reach what they want to tell you. Bokurano, Casshern Sins, Now and then, here and there and Madoka, along with Haruhi Suzumiya´s Endless Eight arc, are the examples that come to mind. What is particularly interesting both in Higurashi and the Lenten season is that the not-so-pleasant moments of either horror and fasting (from food, meat or other good things we may chose to postpone for a time) have the purpose of taking Keiichi (and us) away from the delusions of self-sufficiency of the rich man of the parable of Lazarus and to our true mission, to “unblock” aspects of our embodied reality and the reality of the world we may never come to see otherwise. Because there is true evil acting here and now, evil that may twist our personal stories, and the way out goes through friendship and community, soul searching and repentance, devotion to the truth and help from the transcendent.

I will discuss now some specific parallels which will reveal some aspects of the plot. So spoilers ahead for the horrific first and second season of Higurashi (When they cry).

Something that struck me was how from the very first arc, the characters I had come to like suddenly felt threatening in the course of a scene. Sometimes it is an illusion; sometimes they are in effect falling into the fated role of the killer, some seemingly possessed, others affected by the Syndrome, their traumas, or such overwhelming pressure that they lose it. Familiar faces suddenly look unfamiliar, words become harsh, ugly sentiments come to light and the behavior of Mion, Shion, Rena, Keiichi, and Rika, become dark or even demonic. Twisted parts of their personal stories are revealed. It seems that we never knew them at all. The rest of the characters become afraid for themselves. It is especially unsettling when this happens to the POV protagonist, who we were identifying with, sharing his or her struggles, as Keiichi in Sakoto’s arc or Shion in hers. This kind of reveal happens in real life, too.

Yet we must never forget that in a world of sinners, the worst enemies are inside us, and we and our loved ones are affected by that evil. Sin is indeed dark, and the evil we see is only its manifestation: the root of all evil lives in the heart, not in the external realities of the world. And yet, in the heart there is also thirst for God, a desire to be saved. Those are the people Our Lord loves, heals, and redeems, the people we are called to love. Just as He healed those who were possessed, He inspires our faith in Him to forgive our sins and give us a path. As Keiichi slowly comes to learn in the course of the different arcs, whenever we are afraid of the evil in ourselves and in others, the call of loving and receiving God´s love becomes specially urgent.

Another parallel is found in the path given. Rika Furude, the priest of Oyashiro-sama, turns to be in true connection to the deity, and keeps the memories of all the previous iterations. Thus she knows what will happen beforehand. Yet she is human, one of the group, each of whose members have a different vocation to protect the others, from Satoshi’s bat to the detective skills of Rena. Just like that, in this world in which good and evil, and love and sin transcend time and space, the Church and the Scriptures hand down to us what lies beyond the apparent. This brings us a community, too, whose members have the gifts we need, while we have some they need. Only from there may we overcome a darkness that would devour us were we to combat it with our own force.

Lastly, I was impressed by how explicitly pagan the world of Himinazawa is. Far from the usual Shinto traditions are presented without much thought in most anime series, the cult of Oyashiro-sama is a true self-adoration by the Himinazawa community akin to that of totemic cultures. The true Oyashiro-sama turns out to be benign and eventually part of the gang, just as the real God could not be more different from the idols of the pagans, for they project in them the darkness of their own hearts. For all purposes, she is as forgotten as the Unknown God St. Paul told the Athenians about, and the one who is revered is the statue at the forbidden sanctuary full of instruments of torture.

The way of life of the inhabitants of the village is marked by harsh traditions such as infanticide of the twins. The dance at the Watanashi festival represents the ritual human sacrifice of old, the rule of the three families sometimes entails severe group pressure, and superstition is rampant, along with which seem to be demonic possessions. They are not, but rather paranoia and illusions caused by the Himinazawa Syndrome and narratively something more akin to the self-closure caused by sinking into different sins, from lack of faith to the lust of revenge. Not demonic possession, but demonic temptation. Keiichi, though a stranger, is involved in it all. In that way, he is similar to the first Christians in the Pagan world, including the Apostles, who were often killed in gruesome ways, some of them too gory for even Higurashi to depict. Influenced by the demonic, the hate of the worshippers of the idols towards Christians of all ages often reaches dimensions which seem impossible, as Our Lord told us that will happen. For if the Master has been persecuted, the disciples will be persecuted too.

But Christians know that the path of the martyrs is not one of tragedy and despair, but, like the deaths at Higurashi, precisely a mysterious way of joining Christ at the Cross and saving others. Loving the very executioners that kill them, aided by Providence, they are giving testimony of a love greater than the prince of this world and crossing a door which will lead them to Christ´s Resurrection, just as it lead them throughout Christ´s Passion. In the penultimate episode of the first season, it’s shown that the hopeful path of Higurashi started with a sacrifice: under the bat of a maddened Keiichi, Rena extended her hand towards him and offered love and friendship until the end. He didn’t even notice at the time, but twenty episodes later, this memory came back to show him the first step of a way out for him and for her, and for the others, too. In different arcs, Satoko and Rika did the same. And many have done the same for their tormentors, for their loved ones and for us. And there is life at the other side.

=====

Higurashi can be streamed on Netflix and Hulu.

#Anime #Christianity #Higurashi no Naku Koro ni #When They Cry #Lent #Catholicism #Articles #Author: Gaharet

[anochuu]

Greed (R18+)

⤷ Genres: fluff, very slight angst, vague smut yall naughty children go bless yourself,

⤷ WARNING: includes non-con(force seduction)⚠️

⤷ Jungkook x Reader (Oneshot)

⤷Summary: (Y/n) is totally fine sharing her man with the whole wide world; But the man himself contend otherwise.

I always believed that the love he gave me are limitless-clearly from all the attentions and acts he has given to me even in the eyes of the public does not stop him from the skinship.

Once in a while his hold screams possessiveness,aggressive that it's painful on me but at times his touch could be so gentle that he is so afraid to break the delicate me,treat me with all cautious and gentleness.

He is the young man i have come to know very well-love by many and fans are obsess with him,everything he does are perfect in their eyes. Always known as the innocent features he have,cute peculiar habits and srunches his nose whenever he laughs or grin. Typical,i must say but he really is very charming.

Dating a now famous idol is a challenge for sure and many i have to overcome but fortunately i am not a person to be fuss over things i do not find it necessary to mind about.So i am good to say.

But not with the opposite latter.

"H-hey!" I gasp when he pushes me abruptly against the wall,the walk-in wardrobe door behind us slammed close and he locks it without even looking behind.

"What was that?" He asks,voice low and his breath brushes my cheek considering the closet fits right only for two people but then again, it was suppose to be one.

"What was..what?" I gaze up at him,quizzicaly.

"I left just for a while for the fan meeting and yet,you're flirting already with one of the crews?"

The creased on my forehead deepens,What is he trying to say? Flirting? What i am just having a normal conversations with his staffs is what he called flirting?

"Jungkook,you're mistaken,he was just-"

"Oh i know," He mutters, "But you're letting your guard down too much,(y/n). You're letting all the men have their ways with you."

"And all men are wolves,do you not know that? Or clearly,i haven't shown it to you enough?"

The shivers ran down my spine when his eyes glowered,his grip tightens around me making me unable to move a muscle.

The possessiveness starts to take over him and easily i suppose;on the opposite side, He can't control his emotions well leading to a sensitive jealousy whenever i am out from his sight.

I sigh when he dips his head down to start placing hungry kisses along my neck,his cold pair of lips that sends a guilty ecstacy but love it; me who is one to be manipulated by him;bewitched.

Jungkook unbinds my hair and in no time at all,he inhales the scent of the locks deep,his skillful hands locked mine in place giving him easy access without my fight.

"Jungkook.."

"Do you have any idea how you're looking at me right now?"

"How i'm...?" I shake my head weakly and he uses that motion to glide his lips up and down of my jawline,carressing my cheekbones with his hot breath.

"You misunderstood,we didn't do anything." I manage to speak between ragged  breathing.

"Oh ,angel, i'm not mad at you." He lets out a throaty chuckle and in this dim closet,i could make out a little what expression he is wearing right now.

"I'm frustrated that you're too easy to be approach by other men.Can't you tell the difference?"

A faint commotion was heard from behind closed door and it made him stiffen for a while,the announcement has been released and we both know who it is cue for.

"I guess that's my cue." He glances over his shoulder,before slowly gazing back into my eyes.

"Wait for me back home," His voice softens, peering down into my face, before placing a deep but short enough kiss to my lips,feeling the slight of his wet muscles upon mine.

"I'll call you." He last said then left the closet,leaving me alone with a burning flared heat rise up to my face and i even need to hold myself up against the wall to prevent me from melting down.

"Wh-what the hell..Jeon Jungkook.."

That night,not having the chance to greet him by the door,exhaustion took over me and i could not help but to fall asleep and even the clock is ticking late when all he did back then,when i recalled was that just to wait for him;didn't really specify when.

That is when i felt a weight over the bed around me,the bed creaks as it sunken down and a figure hovers above me.

The gentleness of the fingers graze upon my cheek causes me to stir slowly awake,coming to my senses.

When i did open my eyes,his breathtaking feature came into view,

"Jungkook.." His name slurred from my mouth,rubbing my eyes to make sure it is really him right here.

"Did i wake you up?"

"No," I lied, positioning myself to fully facing him,

"Did you just got home?"

He hums in respond, already stirred by his needs which is,lust.Jungkook held both my arms up, pinioning them beside my head,butterfly kisses were given to my along my jawline. What makes me awake next when he sucks sharply against my skin and jolted me a surprise,his teeth nibbles on them.

"W-wait—Jungkook-ah.."

"Sorry," He apologizes, "I'm here to keep my promise."

His lips found their way back to latch against mine,each foldings sends a shivers down my spine and i had to tilt my head to the side away from him to catch my breath when he did not given me any.

I sigh when his kisses distracted me,but his skillful hands starts to shed my apparel one by one before i knew it,

"Lift your arms up." He whispers hastily and i obliged in the heat of moment;he then pulls my T-shirt up and toss them aimlessly to the other side of the bed,the cold welcoming my body.

"Are you still mad?" I ask when he lowers himself down to place chaste kisses on my chest and stomach.

"No." He reply,pulling away from me just to peel off his own shirt,revealing his muscular biceps-toned abs and abroad chest where his gymnasium results shown very clearly.

"You know how i am,(y/n)." He hovers above me again,tugging on my shorts,in one swift movement he slids down off of it from my legs.

"You are aware of my possessiveness." He leans down,buried his face onto the crook of my neck and purposely tilted my head to the side giving him full access to it.

"But yet you're still here."

At this point i am utterly confuse; Was he doing all this because of natural emotions ,or is it because of jealousy? Is it because he is the way he is right now and no one can change that? Or is it because he love me too much just by seeing another man beside me infuriates him?

The perplexity turns down my will and mood instantly,my hazy eyes and senses snaps back.

"Jungkook—"

"Turn around for me,baby." He interjected,the lust in his eyes became incisive,and whatever is say now might become pointless to his ears.

When i did not even budge, he grabs my shoulder but gently and flips me around as he wishes me to,my stomach facing the bed and my back facing him.His fingertips trace on my skin, to places i have never been but i am blindly following his joy.

"Ah!" I yelped when i felt the tip of his slender fingers flicks my folds below,my hands curling to fists the bed's mattress beneath us.

"This is—unfair," I writhe; "It's a foul mov—Nnh!" I slap a palm over my mouth,refusing to let out the sound coming out from my lips that even i myself heard it very...uncomfortable.

He inserted one digits at a time,ignoring my pleas and stiffled moans-beads of sweats form around my temples whilst his fingers starts to move in and out sending guilt yet pleasure within me.

He bends down and breathe heavily right on the side of my earlobe,

"Lift your ass up." The last cue he had for me

Through my half-lidded eyes he sent me to the abyss and i am in no strength to refuse his evil invitation. I did not realize the tip of his hot sex meets my entrance,without another word easing himself inside and my body tense instantly. Biting my tongue,i hold back the urge to moan.

"Jungkook-!" I called once more before he can move further,laid my head onto the bed and narrowed my eyes to see him above, the sweats also forms around his forehead,down to his chin.

"I don't want this.." I beg,

"Let's..let's stop this now,okay?" I panted, and finally, his movement stop so as his eyes bored to me.

It is unfair how he can keep his composure and even looks up, while i completely bet i look like a shrimp on a steam of hot water right now,wriggling jittery to get free. Now that i'm looking back, all he did was just to relief his stress on me,using my body as he pleases. The touching never stops even if we are in public despite his status and that scared me so much

Am i drunk in this love alone? With him falling half-way instead? This is too terrifying and risky.

Then i snapped out from my own daze when i feel his fingers brushes my fringe out of the way that sticks onto the side of my face,tucking them to the side,

"You hate this?" His voice hoarse,filled the now silent room.

With my remaining strength,i pull myself up and lean on both elbows, "I didn't said that, i just don't like—the situations."

"Situations?"

"Yes!" I sigh exasperatedly, "Jungkook,let's stop for today,please?"

His eyes darkens for a moment that gives me a genuine fear for once, Is it because i defy him?

"Why now of all times?" He questions quietly,sinking himself deeper instead and the fraction of pleasure sends me collapse on the bed again, a loud moan escapes my mouth this time,

"Do you hate me?" His chest bumps on my back,whispering close to the side of my face;the heat he is emitting is too much for me to handle that i am starting to lose my mind and when i do,there is no going back.

"N-no aahn—!" I writhe,squirming under him.

"Then why?"

His movement is slow,electrifying me as if he is taking his time to devour me. His both hands trails up reaching for my fingers,entertwining them all tightly.

I began to see stars and could not answer him for i am too busy not to get ahead over my own voice,giving him the satisfaction that he really is good in doing this. It takes a few moments longer until he sped up and i can not keep up anymore.The fierce heat takes a hold of me,trapping me down.

"I'm too close.." He murmurs,his teeth nibbles on my exposed shoulders,

"(Y/n)," he breathe out; "Look at me,eung?" He adopted a pleading tone and simply he knows it very well he uses that soft tactic against me who can't refuse whenever he does that.

And so i did,this time his sweat drips on the tip of his chin,his eyes seems glossy.He lowers himself and kisses me fiercely,distracting me from the fact he comes but the heat yet reaches the depth of my body

He pulls away leaving a string of saliva between us. He collapses upon me,each of us trying to catch breaths within our lungs,

"Are you disgusted?" Jungkook breaks the silence,

"What?" I manage to speak up but small.

"Are you going to leave me? Because you're disgusted by me?"

I kept quiet. And he continue,

"I am a very selfish man,i like to keep things close to me when they've become my favourites. What's yours is mine and what's mine is mine,you know that very well,don't you?"

There was another pregnant of silence,

"I broke your wings,if that is what you despise,you may wish to go." He pulls himself away and i froze,whirled around to see him fully in the face.

He stood up and putting on his pants quietly,leaving me thinking to myself. Do i want this? Although most part of my heart knows well i love him so badly that i have to deny that fact.

"I can't control my possessiveness,you're scared of that too,i can see it." He pointed out,still not looking at me

"Jungkook," Without thinking i reach out to grab his hand which caught his attention back to our hands,then to me.

"I don't hate it.." Our eyes intensely bored to one another.

"I'm just..i was just,scared that i might break easily if you hold me too tight and at the same time, i am scared i disappointed you;what if you are possessive over nothing at the end?"

Jungkook spun around, "(Y/n),listen to me.You are not nothing." He cups my face,leaning closer,

"I love you,with every ounces of my being.This side of me,is only shown to you because i am terrified with the thought you will get sick of me some day."  He places chaste kisses on each of my eyelids,

"I went overboard today,i'm sorry. Forgive me?"

His beaming gaze pleads,asking for tolerance this time and my heart skips a beat.

I nod,"Please don't do that again," I wrap my arms around his neck,pulling him down with me until my back hits the mattress once more.

A throaty chuckles slips from his mouth and he kisses me again,this time the tip of my nose,

"I was scared,your grips..." i trailed off.

"I know," He rested his forehead on mine;knowing well what i meant,

"I'm sorry ,baby. I won't do it again."

His lips glided down from my cheekbones to my lips,pulling it into a deep-locking sensation,my eyes fluttering close slowly in the process. His hands roams around my hips,his thumb drawing circles lovingly and i anticipated what's next,

"I can't hold back again if you're this cute." He murmurs,sighing against my lips,

"Then don't"

Jungkook pulls away slightly just to get a good look on my expression, a jolt of surprise in his widened eyes,

"(Y/n)?"

I giggled, "Don't stop,Jungkook." I lift myself up,hugging his neck and my turn this time to bury my nose on the valley between his shoulder

"What's yours is yours,you said that."

It took him a few seconds to digest what i had just uttered, he took my face in his hold once more,

"I love you." He repeatedly whispers between our mingling breaths,sinking back to the bed and i was eaten by his abroad back;his hands traces along my thighs before slowly spreading them open,drawing another circles with his thumbs on the inner skin as if i am his proud masterpiece.

"Something so amazing...so beautiful..all for me.”

#bts imagines #bts fluff #bts angst #bts oneshot #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #jeonjungkook #jungkook angst #kpop angst #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook

[yoongislight]

BTS reacting to their s/o watching them perform.

Requested by @imaginescorner, hope you like it!💓

Seokjin

I ain't too sure about myself before stepping on the stage. The choreography for Blood, Sweat & Tears has always been a challenge for me and performing it live always manages to get on my nerves. I have been practicing over and over again until I got it perfect but seeing Hoseok or Jungkook performing their parts somehow gets to me. I feel the need to improve because in my eyes I don't even do it good, I feel like I'm a terrible dancer.

That's why, when we all get on the stage and Jimin starts singing, nervousness gets the best of me. I try my best, doing everything like I practiced back at the studio but still feeling discouraged and disappointed with myself.

That is, until I see her on the crowd. Her expression is bright as a star, not taking her eyes off me while I move around the stage. Her orbs are filled with love and admiration, as if I was some kind of angel fallen right from heaven, as if she is watching the most beautiful thing ever. She is absolutely mesmerized and that's all the strength and assurance I need. I smile lovingly at her, trying to put all of my feelings in that simple gesture. She seems to get it because she smiles back and winks at me, pointing her thumbs up.

From that day on, I have never been nervous about performing BS&T again. I will never forget how she looked in the crowd, bright as an angel. My angel.

Yoongi

The song is a surprise. I have been working on it for weeks, months even until it was completely perfect. I came out with every single lyric and every single beat, all by myself, because I didn't want to share it with anyone. This is my gift for her and I want it to be all mine, like she already is.

The boys knew something was up but didn't ask me about it. I showed the finished song to Namjoon and he approved it, saying she would love it. He is the only one that has listened to it besides me and tonight, fifty thousand people would do it too, at last.

I knew she would be in the crowd, first line right below the stage. That's why, when I come out and see her bright smile, her mouth open as she screams, I can't help but smile too. The concert passes by like a blur due to the nervousness I'm feeling. She has had the time of her life, I can tell by the redness on her cheeks and how wide her smile is now. The boys turn around and start leaving the stage, the crowd thinks we are over but I'm definitely not done yet. I'm left alone on the stage and the crowd screams when the first notes start to play. I begin rapping, not taking my eyes off her while I try to express my feelings through the lyrics I spent so much time writing. I rap about our relationship, about how she helped me get over my hard times, about how we both shared my good times. I rap about how much I love her, despite I don't show her as much as I should. I rap, letting it all out until the song comes to it's end and I stand there breathing heavily.

Tears start streaming down her face and she cries, a smile on her face and love on her eyes as she looks at me deeply. I can't help but do the same and walk to her so I can hold her hand and kiss it, wishing it was just us two in the arena, wishing this moment lasted forever.

Hoseok

Today is our last concert of the tour and despite being tired, I'm also very excited about it. We have prepared a new performance as a gift for the ARMY and I am sure they will love it, the love they gave the little snippets on Twitter shows it.

As happy and excited I am now, I can't help but wish she was here. I know Y/N would have love the new choreography, she has confirmed it whenever I have sent her the practice videos, but I would have wanted her to see it live. Unfortunately, she has too much work to do and isn't able to make it. We have been dating for a few months and she still hasn't seen me perform on concert, just whenever we practiced on the studio. This would have been such a good oportunity.

Our new song is the first one to perform, so when we come out on stage and the beat starts to play, a grin appears on my face. The song is called Rainism and the dance is dark yet very sexy, exactly how fans like it. I start to rock my hips to the rhythm of the music, a mischievous grin plastered on my face. Jimin and Jungkook are on my sides and as we move together, the crowd shouts like crazy. I scan the first row of faces and suddenly see her and my heart skips a beat. I'm about to miss the next step but quickly make it up as happiness overcomes me.

Her eyes are wide open and her lips are parted, her stare never leaving my body. She is absolutely flustered and I can tell it is because of the slow moves of my body. I rock my hips forward particularly hard, looking at her and sticking my tongue out. She jumps slightly and bites her bottom lip, redness covering her cheeks. She is turned on and I know it.

When I get off the stage, she is waiting for me backstage and drags me to the closest room, begging for my body. Needless to say, from now on she comes to every concert.

Namjoon

Ddaeng had such a good impact that we decided to perform it live on 2018 FESTA. It is a surprise, nobody knows it but I know the fans will go crazy when they see it. Yoongi, Hoseok and I worked so hard on the track, staying up late nights after nights until we thought it was perfect, and apparently the fans thought so too.

When we step out on the stage, the first thing my eyes drift to is her face, I would recognize it anywhere. She is looking at me with a bright smile as she screams like all the girls around her. I find that image mesmerazing and I can't take my eyes off her during the first minutes. Soon comes the time to perform Ddaeng and I breath in, getting ready to do my best and see the reaction on her face.

When the first notes come out of the speakers and the fans see us all dressed up they scream like crazy. I can see Y/N is impressed too, because she opens her mouth and her smile widens. She watches Hoseok rap, screaming and cheering. He winks at her before Yoongi starts and he comes closer and high fives her. When my turn comes, I start spiting out the rhymes fluidly and she watches me bewitched, eyes wide and mouth forming a big O. Y/N is impresed and I can tell she is enjoying the performance. I smile and come closer to her until I'm rapping a few centimeters away from her face. Loads of hands try to reach me but only hers manages to do it and she caresses my cheek slightly.

She is the only fuel I need to ace the song and end up in front of a standing ovation.

Jimin

Ever since I was a kid, I have always been a perfeccionist. Everything I do must be perfect, that's why I work hard until I get stuff done exactly how I like it.

When I entered the music industry, that was both a curse and a blessing. I often press myself too much, ending exhausted and stressed because things don't go exactly as I please. Others, I end up achieving what I want and the feeling of success is worth all the effort.

At the concert today, I will be performing MAMA, but with a slight change: I will be bare chested half of the performance. It's the first time I have done something like this, and I'm excited but also extremely worried. I don't want fans to think my body isn't enough, that I'm too skinny or haven't excercised enough. I don't want them to be unhappy or disappointed with me or my body. I'm aware of how much they imagine how our bodies look below the clothes and I don't want to fail their expectations. All these thoughts fly around my head, but at least I have Y/N to keep me in line.

She worships me every time she gets the chance and helps my self esteem go up whenever it's particularly down. She is the reason I'm doing this tonight and I'm glad she will be here to see it.

When the song starts, I'm all covered. Fans cheer and scream as usual and I look for her face in the crowd until I see her near me. She smiles assuringly and holds her thumbs up, encouraging me and making me smile. Soon, the time comes, and I rip off my shirt, leaving just a huge white coat.

Fans go absolutely crazy, the scream that fills the huge stadium almost ending up with me, but all I can see is Y/N. She is staring at me with half love, half lust in her eyes, watching every single inch of my body hungrily. It's probably the tattoos, she didn't know I would wear them tonight. Her expression is all I need to dance even better, rocking my hips sexily and I swear I can see saliva running down her chin as she bites her lip strongly. I know she loves it and that's all the assurance I need.

From then on, every time I feel insecure about my body, I think of her expression and all doubt disappears.

Taehyung

Stigma is a difficult song, a challenge I don't know if I'm ready to overcome. Those high notes are very hard to reach, even more with my low voice. Despite that, I have decided it's time to perform it live and let fans see it. I have been rehearsing for weeks and I'm finally happy with the result. Let's see if I can do this good with the pressure of a full arena right surrounding me.

I step on stage completely alone, welcomed by cheering and shouting. I take my time to look around, scanning every single face like I have always loved to do. These are my fans, my girls and I owe them everything I have. I feel the need to acknowledge every single one of them and let them see I'm paying attention.

Suddenly, one face catches my eye and my heart skips a beat. There she is, looking at me with her brightest smile, looking like the cutest kitten you could imagine. She told me she wouldn't be able to make it, probably to surprise me, and she did.

Y/N, my girlfriend, my other half.

Stigma starts playing and the excited screams sound far away to me as I can't stop looking at her. She cheers too, making me smile and relax. I start singing, my low voice filling the arena while fans move from one side to another, holding their ARMY bombs up. Y/N has one too and she closes her eyes, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music.

I want to do this good, I want to ace this for her. When the high notes come, I sing them myself, not needing to do playback as I have thought in case I couldn't make it. I reach the high pitch and fans start going crazy, but all I can see is her. She looks at me mesmerized, bewitched by my voice. I can tell she is proud and that makes me the happiest man alive.

When the song finishes, I look at her smiling, a single tear rolling down my cheek, happiness filling my body.

Jungkook

I can't believe we have made it to the BBMAs! Not only we are nominated, but we will also be performing live!

Fake Love is the main single in our album and it's debut will be on the BBMAs stage. It's the first time we will perform it and I don't want to disappoint the fans. They look up to it and I hope it fulfills all of their expectations. Besides, we have a little surprise planned and I'm sure they will like it.

My girlfriend, Y/N, will be coming to Los Angeles with us and will also watch us perform. Not even she knows about the surprise and I can't wait to see her face when she sees it. I'm sure she will love it as much as fans, if not more.

The day comes and the BBMAs start. All eyes are on us, paps ask us about our relationship but we don't spill a word, as always. She likes to keep our privacy and I can't help but want the same. The shows passes by like a blurr as I'm beyond excited to perform. We win Top Social Artist, and that only makes my excitement and eagerness grow. Finally, the time to go on stage comes and we come out welcomed by the loudest scream ever.

I spot her and she waves at me, smiling wider than ever as she talks with someone by her side, probably Ciara as they got on well during the show. The song starts playing and the cheering intensifies. I sing without keeping my eyes off her and she winks at me, trying to sing along the lyrics herself.

The time comes, and the chorus starts. Taehyung finishes his 'love you so bad' part and it's my turn in the middle. I start singing and, suddenly, I lift up my shirt, exposing my abs for a few seconds.

The crowd goes crazy and Y/N looks at me absolutely astonished. I'm too far away but I can tell she is looking at me with hunger and somehow possesiveness, as if she doesn't want anyone to see me like this. Her mouth is wide open, like her eyes, and Ciara screams to the top of her lungs. Maybe it is because of the lights, but Y/N's cheeks seem red and I can't help but laugh internally.

I have never been this pleased by her reaction of me exposing my abs.

#bts #bts x reader #bangtan #bangtan x reader #bts reaction #masterlist #kpop #fluff #jin #suga #min yoongi #yoongi #hoseok #jhope #rm #namjoon #jiimin #taehyung #v #jungkook #reaction #BTS imagine #bangtan imagine

[toushindai]

the worst way to waste time

Hades, Zagreus/Megaera(ish)

A lot has changed, but not everything. They are older now, yes, but wiser may be a bit too much to ask.

[ Read on AO3 ]

He brings ambrosia back for Meg whenever he can. It makes a decent excuse to talk to her, and she accepts his generosity, even if she casts it as disposing of contraband. Or calls it bribery. Or accuses him of sycophancy. She knows him too well to think that any of those things are true, but he plays along with her fictions, because she can’t sort kindness from pity and would never accept something that might be mistaken for the latter.

After a dozen or so rounds of this, she only sends a long look at the bottle he places next to her wine glass and follows it up with a long look at him. She rolls her eyes. “Why not,” she mutters, dismissive. “Your room?”

His eyebrows shoot up. “I was… just thinking we could share this,” he protests, “nothing more.”

She locks eyes with him, all intention and imperious fire, and it stirs memories in the recesses of his body. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t still think of her sometimes, or if he tried to claim that their recent battles didn’t remind him of the way they used to spar until their bodies thrummed with the need for a different kind of touch. But they’d left that behind them, he thought. Meg had distanced herself after he’d broken it off, and these fights to the death are the most they’ve seen of each other in a year, and Meg has made her distaste for the entire situation and for him amply clear. But when his eyes dip down to check how much wine she’s already consumed, she scoffs and hooks one knuckle under his chin to drag his gaze back up to hers.

“Yes or no, Zag?”

Well, she won’t explain herself if he asks here. And Zagreus can’t fight desire and curiosity and his longing to repair their friendship before he’s gone forever, not all at once. He palms the ambrosia bottle off the table and slips it back into his tunic. “I’m up for it if you are.”

She drains the last of her wine and stands. “Let’s go, then.”

*

She doesn’t explain herself in his bedroom, either; instead they split the ambrosia between the two of them, reclining on the bed and thinking more than they talk. When he does try to flat-out ask what brought this on all of a sudden, she only murmurs, “You’re not the worst way to waste time.” It’s high praise, coming from her, and Zagreus thanks her accordingly, but his sincerity only drives her back into silence.

Then the ambrosia is gone and they fall, by second nature, to kissing it off each other’s lips. Honeyed sweetness mixes with the tang of iron on Meg’s skin, and Zagreus realizes he must taste the same way. It’s not unpleasant. And they remember each other too well to stay hesitant for long. She pauses only to set her armor aside; then she is atop him and his arms are around her shoulders (gods, those shoulders—he’s missed her) and they’re both panting as she grinds deliberately against his semi. His hands slide towards her rear, needing her closer, but through the haze of anticipation and want he stops, pulls himself together. This doesn’t make sense.

“Meg,” he says, his touch settling on her waist instead and stilling her movement. “Are you sure you want this?”

“Really, Zag?” she snaps. She glares down at him, impatience on her face. He sends a wry smile her way and cradles her jaw in one hand; she just narrows her eyes. “What?”

“What are you really thinking about?” he asks. He can’t believe that she’s suddenly overcome with memory and lust, as convenient as it would be to think so. Not her. Not the Meg he knows.

She glares for a moment longer, then takes his wrists in her hands and shoves them down against the pillows, pinning him. His heart jumps. She leans in, her hair falling over her shoulder to tickle his skin. “You want to know what I’m thinking, Zag?”

“Yes,” he says, his voice coming out at the wrong pitch even though her eyes have only grown colder.

Her thumbs caress the tendons of his wrists. She is close enough to kiss. But then she speaks, her tone callused and cruel. “I’m thinking of tying you to the bed and leaving you here.”

“…Ah.”

He goes cold all at once. His smile tries to slip off his face and his attempt to hold onto it makes it into something twisted instead. Knowing hurt when she sees it, Meg disentangles and turns her back on him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t let anyone in here to clean up, and by now everyone in the House is used to your absence,” she says. She’s not musing, only reporting her thoughts with a clinical coolness. “It might be days before anyone came looking for you.”

Zagreus sits up, straightens his tunic. He stares at Meg’s back and the tense way her wing trembles as she pretends an impassive ease, and he feels an ache in his chest that won’t recede. “That’s an alternative to my father locking me in a room somewhere, I suppose. Did he put you up to this?”

Meg shakes her head, her silvery hair rippling back and forth. “It was my idea. I knew you’d be naïve enough to fall for it.”

“And then I wasn’t,” Zagreus points out.

“You were naïve enough. But too soft.”

“…I guess you’re right.” Too soft, too sympathetic to her emotions to be usefully consumed and distracted by his own. Which would be why she’s standoffish now, bristling under the auspices of kindness and concern as she always has.

Something hangs in the air, tense and dissatisfied, until Meg gives a quiet sigh. “I was right the first time,” she mutters. “This isn’t ever going to work again.”

This, she says; she may as well have said we. Zagreus leans back on his hands, staring mutely up at his ceiling. He does know that. But they bring out something worthwhile in each other, don’t they? She’d gotten him to lie down this time, if nothing else, and that’s more than he usually does between attempts. If he weren’t angry he might have told her that. Instead he just steels himself against the relief seeping into his exhausted muscles. Silence stretches on between them.

Then Meg sighs again, standing to buckle her spaulders back into place. He can see her impassive face reflected in the mirror across the room. She catches him looking, and her reflection meets his eyes. “Do you trust me, Zagreus?”

“Yes,” is his unhesitating answer, out of his mouth before he realizes that he shouldn’t right now. That she’s just made that clear. “To a degree,” he adds belatedly.

She scoffs, not buying the addition, and turns to face him. “You trust me,” she accuses.

“Yes,” he says again, and lets it stand on its own this time.

“Then tell me, Zagreus, why do you think I’m trying to stop you?”

Something twinges in his chest, but he answers with the obvious: “It’s your job. I know Father is making you—”

“No.” Her eyes are hard, and the rest of Zagreus’s claim dies on his tongue. “Forget about Lord Hades. Why do you think I’m doing this?”

His brow furrows as he tries to read her face. He’s seen her speaking with Nyx between his attempts, heard snatches of conversation: Nyx reassuring her of her role in the House, a role built of duty and responsibility and all of those things Meg takes to like breathing. He tries again with what has to be the answer: “It’s your job.”

But that prompts an exasperated glare. “Blood and darkness, Zag, are you this dense on purpose?”

“What, then?” he says, because he can’t guess the answer.

She opens her mouth as if to respond, but then tosses her head and turns away, towards the door back to the hallway. “Forget it. I should just get back to work. Clearly there’s no getting through to you without putting a hole through your chest first.”

“Meg, wait.” He scrambles out of bed and catches her arm, wanting to hear what she meant to tell him. “I trust you,” he affirms again, and hopes she’ll say the rest.

She pulls free and faces him, one eyebrow arched. “Then listen to me, Zag, you need to stop what you’re doing.”

He freezes. Of course it comes down to this. “Meg,” he says, holding his voice even, “you know I can’t. You know what this means to me.”

“I know what you think you’re going to get out of it,” she responds. “But I keep telling you, you’re chasing after a delusion.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” she insists.

“You can’t—”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” he answers, again.

“Then do you think I’m lying to you?”

Her eyes blaze, and Zagreus feels pinned in place once more. She’s cornered him. Because if she isn’t doing this for his father, for her job—if he doesn’t believe that she would lie to stop him—then the only explanation left—

He closes his eyes and he shakes his head and he holds fast to the memory of his mother’s handwriting. “There’s a way out of this place,” he says. “My mother found it, and I will too.”

Her hand is in his hair then and she twists hard, knocking his laurels askew. He winces.

“Look at me, Zag.”

“Meg, let go.” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you believe that I would mislead you to keep you home.” Her voice has gotten dangerous and quiet, barely louder than a breath. “If you can’t do that, admit you understand that I mean what I’m saying. Those are your choices.”

“Meg.” He wrenches his hair from her grasp and opens his eyes and sees exactly what he knew he would: Megaera the Fury radiating superiority and fierce scorn, all of it turned directly on him. She never has considered the possibility that she might be wrong. She just keeps treating him like a child to be shamed into good behavior, whatever her definition of that may be. And if the lilting rasp of her voice and the way her grip has left his scalp throbbing are familiar—if they stir memory in the core of his body—then this argument is just as familiar and it makes his heart race with anger rather than desire. He bares his teeth when he glares at her. “I don’t care if you mean what you’re saying. You don’t know what the Fates have in store for me any better than I do, and I won’t just sit here and rot away waiting for them to decide the course of my life.”

Meg’s lips twist in a tired sneer. “They’ll decide the course of your life wherever you try to go, and they will always bring you back here. To where you belong.”

“I don’t belong here!” This he knows better than anything else in his life; this he feels deep in the pit of his heart, unshakably, a voice crying out endlessly that there has to be something for him beyond the suffocating weight of his father’s domain. His certainty chokes his voice when he speaks. “Gods, Meg, do we have to have this fight again?”

Her jaw sets, just like it always has, and he prepares to hear all the arguments he knows by heart now: that he was born here and will remain here, that he would find a place here if only he would look (as if he’s never looked!), that he knows nothing of the Underworld’s workings and should sit down and shut up until he’s learned to respect them—

But then Meg bats her wing in a shrug. “No,” she says, her voice cold. “You never listen anyway, and I have better things to do.”

“Of course you do.” So he’s not such a good way to waste time, after all. An ugly emotion flares in his chest and he shapes it into faux politeness. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

She sniffs. “See you soon.” The sneer in her eyes turns it into a threat, and before Zagreus can offer a parting shot of his own, she’s turned away and left. He grits his teeth as she goes. She won’t have to fight her way through hordes of wretches to get to where she’s going; she’s granted passage to the edges of Tartarus unopposed. It’s only him who isn’t allowed out of his own damn house, like he’s young enough to still be bound by a curfew.

Well, the wretches can’t stop him, and neither can his father and neither can Meg. Thank the gods that he’s already gotten out of bed. He has no time to rest. His arms and calves are still quivering with exhaustion, but if he gets moving again it won’t matter. He wrestles out of his tunic and changes into a clean one. Then he heads into the courtyard to leave his home behind, one more time.

*

A few hours later and he’s back in Meg’s hall, Aegis heavy and pulsing on his arm. He wants to make it quick this time. He doesn’t like feeling this way about her, but sometimes there’s nothing else for it.

In any case, the feeling looks to be mutual. Meg’s lip curls in something remarkably close to hatred as they start to circle each other. “I guess we’ll just keep doing this the painful way.”

“Every single time,” he answers with false cheer in his voice.

“Idiot.”

The insult glances off him. Maybe he is, but he’s not going to stop. And he sees in Meg’s eyes that she knows that—accepts it, even.

“Just remember that you chose this,” she says, and they begin again.

#hades game #hades supergiant #tou wrote a thing #the worst way to waste time #zagreus (hades game) #megaera (hades game) #zagaera #this one's jossed as well bc it doesn't mesh well with canon ambrosia progression

[argeriant18]

The Moon (Seo Eunkwang x Reader)

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

>"I saw the moon and I thought of this. I don't know where it'll go so, peace!" -Alee Go (9-25-18 @10:48 PM)< _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Wooooowwww!" I said in awe as I looked up the sky and leaned on the terrace railing. "Full moon!" I heard someone chuckle behind me so I turned to look at him and gave him a really big smile. He wrapped his arms around my torso. "You're so cute." I giggled. I wish everyday could be like this as I hummed a little tune. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Ring! Ring! I picked up the phone. "Hello?" I asked as I leaned on the wall. "Jagiya, hi. I miss you." I heard the sound of his voice with such longing after he went away to serve the country. "Qīn ài (亲爱) (Dear), is this even allowed?" I asked, concerned. "Yeah, only for a little while." His breath hitched. "How are you?" I smiled a little, "I'm fine, just missing you. How about you? How are you?" I could feel him smirk on the other side of the line as he said the following words in a husky voice, "My life is incomplete. It's missing you." I can't help but blush a little. How is it possible that he could do that? I mean, he's a guy. I know there's a possibility he could do it. But still! "Ah-ahhhh Ano, um, isn't that Min's line?" I chuckled nervously. "Why that though?" "Because it's true." I heard him reply. "I really miss you, Jagiya." "I miss you too, Eunkwang." I could feel my lips smile as a fuzzy feeling overcomes me. "By the way, have you seen the sky tonight?" He asked. "No," I slowly shook my head. "Why?" "Go see for yourself." He said so I went to look at the window just beside me and I sighed dreamily at what I saw. "Full moon." I breathed out, amazed. "Yep." He said into the receiver, I could almost imagine the smile on his face whenever we spend time together under a full moon. "Beautiful, isn't it? Now I'm happy that even if we're far apart, we're both looking at the same moon." I smiled widely. "By the way, can you sing that song you always sing or hum when you see the moon?" He requested. "Huh?" I asked, confused. "What song?" "The one with the xiang xiang?" He said, unsure. "Xiang xiang?" I muttered and rummaged my mind at whatever he was saying. "Yi xiang yi xiang liang xing xing?" "Huh? What's that?" He asked, surprised. "Twinkle, twinkle little star?" I said shyly with a little nervous laugh. "What? Was that what you sing? Cause I think it goes like this." He said and he hummed a tune. All at once, I knew what he meant. "Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮带我的心) (The Moon Represents My Heart)." I said, quietly. In all honesty, I was quite surprised because he remembered the tune of the song. I'm also quite flattered too because he wanted me to sing it to him. "Eunkwang," I said through the phone. "the song is in Chinese." "It's okay." He said. "Can you sing it to me?" "Are you sure?" I asked, nervously. "Yes." There it was, he said 'yes'. I took a deep breath and started to sing. "Nǐ wèn wǒ ài nǐ yǒu duō shēn (你问我爱你有多深) (You ask me how deep my love for you is)" I listened for a little while to hear any reaction but I was met with silence so I continued. "Wǒ ài nǐ yǒu jǐ fēn (我爱你有几分) (How much I really love you)" I can feel my heart pounding loudly in my chest. I'm really nervous, it's not everyday that I'm requested to sing by THE GREAT SEO EUNKWANG. In all honesty, it's the first time he asked me to sing. "Wǒ de qíng yě zhēn (我的情也真) (My affection is real) Wǒ  de ài yě zhēn (我的爱也真) (My love is real) Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮代表我的心) (The moon represents my heart)" I leaned my right shoulder on the wall as I faced the window to look at the moon. "Nǐ wèn wǒ ài nǐ yǒu duō shēn (你问我爱你有多深) (You ask me how deep my love for you is)" Wǒ ài nǐ yǒu jǐ fēn (我爱你有几分) (How much I really love you) Wǒ de qíng bù yí (我的情不移) (My affection will not waver) Wǒ de ài bú biàn (我的爱不变) (My love will not change) Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮代表我的心) (The moon represents my heart)" I took a deep breath and released it as a quiet sigh. "Qīng qīng de yí ge wěn (轻轻的一个吻) (One soft kiss)" I paused for a moment as I realized what I just sang. A kiss. . . "Yǐ jīng dǎ dòng wǒ de xīn (已经打动我的心) (Has already moved my heart)" As I continued to sing, my mind wandered on our happy and sweet times. But most of all, I thought back on the time I first felt his lips upon mine. How it was soft and how he conveyed his love gently, slow and careful as if I would break upon his touch. "Shēn shēn de yí duàn qíng (深深的一段情) (Our time of deep affection)" I could feel my breath hitch as I thought on a particular night alone with him. "Jiào wǒ sī niàn dào rú jīn (叫我思念到如今) (Has made me miss you ever since then)" I bit my lip for a while forcing to throw away thoughts of one particular night together at the back of my mind as I know it will just make me cry and miss him more. "Nǐ wèn wǒ ài nǐ yǒu duō shēn (你问我爱你有多深) (You ask me how deep my love for you is) Wǒ ài nǐ yǒu jǐ fēn (我爱你有几分) (How much I really love you) Nǐ qù xiǎng yi xiǎng (你去想一想) (Think about it) Nǐ qù kàn yi kàn (你去看一看) (Take a look) Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮代表我的心) (The moon represents my heart) I swayed a little as I hummed the instrumental part. I heard him chuckle at the other end of the line and my lips broke out into a smile. I missed that. . . I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I began to sing again. "Qīng qīng de yí ge wěn (轻轻的一个吻) (One soft kiss) Yǐ jīng dǎ dòng wǒ de xīn (已经打动我的心) (Has already moved my heart) Shēn shēn de yí duàn qíng (深深的一段情) (Our time of deep affection) Jiào wǒ sī niàn dào rú jīn (叫我思念到如今) (Has made me miss you ever since then)" I began to slowly sway to the melody in my mind as I imagined his presence behind me, silently watching my every move. "Nǐ wèn wǒ ài nǐ yǒu duō shēn (你问我爱你有多深) (You ask me how deep my love for you is) Wǒ ài nǐ yǒu jǐ fēn (我爱你有几分) (How much I really love you) Nǐ qù xiǎng yi xiǎng (你去想一想) (Think about it) Nǐ qù kàn yi kàn (你去看一看) (Take a look) Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮代表我的心) (The moon represents my heart)" My lips broke into a smile as the song will come into an end in a few moments. "Nǐ qù xiǎng yi xiǎng (你去想一想) (Think about it) Nǐ qù kàn yi kàn (你去看一看) (Take a look) Yuè liang dài biǎo wǒ de xīn (月亮代表我的心) (The moon represents my heart)" I leaned my head on the wall with a smile as I waited for him to reply. "Wow. . ." I heard him breath out. "That was just. . . Wow. . ." I blushed a little, "Awww. . .thanks, Eunkwang." "No problem cause it's the truth." He said in a cheery voice. "By the way, what were you doing before I called?" "I was preparing for a bath. . ." I said slowly, suddenly feeling self-concious. He hummed, "I wish I was there." I could feel my face heat up. I must be as red as a tomato now. "Eh? Jagiya, you okay?" He asked. Oh my gosh, what am I gonna do? " Uh. . .yep." I replied timidly. "I wish I was there with you though." He said in a sad tone. "Maybe I should run away and join you." I suddenly perked up. "Oi! You can't just ditch military training!" I raised my voice at him. "Even if it means having lots of alone time with you?" He asked, teasingly. "No." I replied, seriously. It's tempting but he should fulfill his duty to his country. "Awww. . ." He said, I could almost imagine his pouting face. "I wanna be with you, how can I solve that?" "There's no limit to your imagination, you know." I advised. "I'll keep that in mind." He said but I could feel that he was smirking. I heard him sigh. "Can I ask for a favor?" "What is it?" I asked. "Wear one of my shirts tonight for me." He said. "Please?" "Okay," I answered slowly. "What for though?" "For my imagination." He replied, I could almost hear the hint of lust in his voice. "Aigooo!!! Bad Eunkwang!!" I screamed as I heard him chuckle. "I was just joking." He said as he calmed me down. "Sorry, sorry." I just rolled my eyes and made little whiny noises. "But you can wear one of my shirts if you miss me." He said. "Is that okay for you?" "Yeah, sure." I answered bitterly. Seo Eunkwang, don't play with my mind and feelings like that. (-_-) "Jagiya, I have to go. Time is up." He said and I could feel the sadness in his voice. "Oh. . ." My face fell. "Take care, Eunkwang." "Take care, too. Jagiya, saranghae." He said lovingly as a bittersweet feeling engulfs both of us. "Wǒ yě ài nǐ (我也爱你) (I love you too) , Eunkwang-ie." I said as I could feel the tears fill up my eyes. "I'll see you soon." He said softly. "I'll be waiting for you, Kwangie-kun." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ *Extra:* I walked around the house with a towel over my head. I suddenly stopped in front of Eunkwang's room. I stared at the door, hesitating on whether I should open the door or not. I took a deep breath and reached for the door handle before I slowly opened the door. The room was really dark since no one was using it recently. My hands groped in the dark for the switch and when I found them, I turned it on and the lights shone bright above me. I paced around it for a while as I dried my hair with my towel. "It's been a long time since I've been in this room." I whispered and I hung my towel on a chair. I sat on his bed for a while, taking in the atmosphere around me until I caught sight of his closet. I walked towards it and opened it to look at the articles of clothing he had left. I smirked and reached for a shirt. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Guys, have you seen her?" Hyunsik asked the other members. "Nope, she's not in the kitchen." Peniel yelled from the kitchen. "She's not picking up." Minhyuk said with a phone pressed on his ear. "She's not in her room but I found her phone." Ilhoon ran downstairs with her phone in hand. "I wonder where's she go?" "Has anyone thought of checking Eunkwang's room?" Sungjae's head popped out from outside. SILENCE "Why didn't we thought of this earlier?" Changsub facepalmed. "Come on." Peniel led them upstairs. He slowly opened the door to Eunkwang's room and they all peeked inside. "I think we should leave her alone." Sungjae suggested. "Eunkwang should see this when he gets back." Ilhoon said. "Someone take a picture." "Done." Minhyuk whispered. "Let's go!" Changing said and they all scrambled downstairs with a picture of her asleep, wearing their leader's shirt. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ The End

#btob #eunkwang #seo eunkwang #eunkwang x reader #reader #chinese #moon #seo eunkwang x reader #songfic

[fullmetalirin]

Fullmetal Alchemist OG vs. Brotherhood: Greed’s Demise (OG 34, BH 14)

We're finally here: the divergence point.

FMA Brotherhood Episode 14: "Those Who Lurk Underground"

Bradley and Armstrong lead a team of state military soldiers to raid Greed's hideout, although Bradley uses it as cover to hunt for Greed. Bradley goes into the sewage passageway beneath the hideout and duels with Greed. Surprised by the abilities of Bradley the Führer, Greed is severely weakened by Bradley who reveals his true identity as Wrath. Roa and Dolcetto attempt to save Greed, but are killed by the Führer. Martel, who is still inside Alphonse, attempts to choke Bradley to death with Alphonse's armor, but she is stabbed by Bradley. Her blood splashes on Alphonse's blood seal and unlocks his forgotten memories. Later, Alphonse reveals to Edward that he managed to recover his former memories, prior to their failed attempt at human transmutation to revive their mother. Greed is taken as a captive to Father, who was disappointed in him after he deserted the rest of the homunculi. When Greed refuses to rejoin the homunculi, he is melted alive to a liquid philosopher's stone, which is then consumed by Father.

We open with MUSTANG because of course we do. He is bothered by peoples' perceptions of him, except he smirks after thinking about them, so I guess not? He reports to the Fuhrer's secretary, who is not important in this continuity, and learns that he's traveled to the south.

The chimeras are taking Al through the sewers. Roa sniffs to find the way.

We cut to Bradley leading a raid on the Devil's Nest.

Greed decides to run away. LOL.

They prepare to chase after him, but Izumi starts vomiting, played absurdly comedically. Life-threatening illnesses during serious battles, so hilarious!!!

Cut to Al struggling with Martel. Where did the others go?

Al looks stunned when Martel lifts his helmet off, but he's been able to move without it before.

Roa and Dolcetto apparently left to find an escape route?

And suddenly Bradley shows up. How did he get here so fast?

Bradley tells the air that he's 60 and his body has started to slow down with age, so he wants to get this done quickly so he can go home. I guess he just likes grandstanding, or he likes bragging about being a special homunculi?

Bradley attacks and it's villain sue time. Despite clearly being several steps away in the previous shot, he's able to instantly slice off Greed's hand as soon as he starts hardening. From there, he just keeps cutting Greed's hands off with his swords that are, I dunno, adamantium given they can cut clean through bone repeatedly without damage. Since Greed can't harden and regenerate, and apparently can't harden unless he's fully healed, Greed is totally helpless during this time.

We cut to Armstrong fighting Dolcetto. He transmutes Dolcetto's hammer into a statue of himself, because Armstrong. Even the statue has bishie sparkles. LOL. Dolcetto throws it away and switches to fisticuffs.

Dolcetto hulks out and… grows horns. I don't think splicing alchemy should work that way. It's pretty clearly only merging existing parts together, not letting you transform at will.

We cut to soldiers gunning down chimeras.

Dolcetto manages to hit Armstrong hard enough to make him bleed.

Armstrong tells him to surrender, but the military show up and shoot at him. His beefy fists can block bullets, apparently. Roa slices through some but not all of the soldiers, who proceed to… somehow completely miss him despite shooting tons of bullets in his direction.

Greed knocks Bradley's eyepatch off and he namedrops the Ultimate Eye. He says it is the reason he was able to dodge bullets on the battlefield and survive long enough to be promoted to his current position. So… Father didn't just install him? What's the point of making a country if you have to appoint your puppet kings through legitimate channels?

Bradley asks how many more times Greed has to be killed before he dies, foreshadowing that their regeneration can be exhausted and also that all future homunculi battles are just going to be people punching them for ages until the author decides they run out of HP.

Martel sees Bradley continuing to just wail on Greed and freaks out. Al tries to keep her hidden.

Roa and Dolcetto show up. Roa does have some bullet wounds, so I guess some did land. He… cuts Al's chains… with his sword that I guess is also adamantium… and tells him to get Martel to safety.

Martel demands Al let her out so she can fight.

Bradley cuts Roa cleanly in half with his magic swords.

Greed taunts Bradley while he's still regenerating because, I dunno, he figures he's going to die anyway? His hand takes ridiculously long to regenerate compared to his brain, which you'd think would be more complex.

Greed gives a speech about how while he's not attached to the chimeras, they're his possessions and he doesn't like Bradley wrecking his stuff.

Greed starts hardening and Bradley charges forward again with super speed. So in addition to being able to dodge bullets and cut through anything, he has super speed so he is not even limited by the range of his magic swords. Greed actually does successfully block the attack, but stops hardening because…?

Bradley stabs Greed, which incapacitates him even though Lust is never knocked unconscious despite explicitly being on her last life later because what is consistency.

Al tries to run away but Martel tries to strangle Bradley, because the irrational woman is too overcome with grief to not immediately jump for the suicide attack.

Bradley is totally unaffected by the strangling even though he is not supposed to have homunculi endurance and stabs Martel to death. It looks really weird; he just sticks the sword in and then blood gushes out all at once.

Some of the blood splatters on Al's bloodseal and this activates his memories of the Gate because…? He did not get knowledge of human transmutation either, so methinks the theory that you get more for paying more is bunk. We then get a shot of him in the created body, implying that thing didn't have a soul to begin with. More on that later.

Then we cut to Al waking up outside. Ed is bandaged and injured. Al says Ed's covered in blood, and then we look down and see Al is too. I think that's an effective sequence.

Al has a breakdown over being unable to save Martel. Ed tries to tell him it'll be okay but it doesn't work.

Bradley shows up to be evil and intimidating. He wants to know if Ed made any deals with Greed, because…? I guess maybe he's worried Greed spilled the beans about Father's plan. But he has no way of knowing if Ed is lying here (unless that's also covered by the Ultimate Sue Eye), so this doesn't seem to accomplish anything but telling Ed he has something to hide. Bradley also asks them if they did human transmutation, which the homunculi must already know if he's already marked for sacrifice, so again this is just giving Ed information.

Bradley offers Izumi a position as State Alchemist. She gets out of it by saying she's just a housewife, but Bradley pointedly says he will return to see if she's changed her mind. Why not just do whatever coercion he has planned now? He has a regiment of soldiers outside already.

Ed mentions he told Hughes about the homunculi. Armstrong gets weird and tells him to be cautious, but nothing more.

Now Al explains his memories have come back. He echoes their earlier cartoon pose about it being awful. He says he didn't learn anything about human transmutation, so it's useless and accomplished nothing. YEP IT SURE DID. The only difference is that now he can do circleless alchemy, because combat upgrades are what really matter.

The brothers then rationally examine how strange it is that the military massacred everyone instead of capturing them for interrogation, and why the Fuhrer came down for such a small operation. Ed says he guesses they'll stick with the military for a while, implying he plans to leave eventually, because military dictatorships will totally let you walk away whenever you want.

Then we get the scene with Father. It is pretty useful to explicitly run over all the homunculi so we can confirm what we know so far. Greed asks why Sloth is missing and we get a shot of him digging the tunnels, foreshadowing that. Why doesn't he ask about Pride, though?

Bradley is apparently new, so was there just not a Wrath before? Greed notes that an aging homunculi is special.

Envy gets mad at being called ugly. The envy demon is vain, geddit, wow such deep symbolism here.

Envy looks more muscular here, more brawler and less prettyboy.

Greed nearly goads Envy into revealing his "true form", but Father stops them. So that's tantalizing us for a future reveal.

Father sits in a chair connected to a bunch of pipes.

Father asks why Greed betrayed him and left, and Greed just says he's only behaving how he was created: greedy. Why is Father purposefully creating things based around fatal flaws?

Greed refuses to return to Father's employ. Father activates some clockwork contraption that lowers Greed into a crucible. As he's melted down, his Philosopher's Stone is extracted into… wine? that Father drinks, using some complicated distillation apparatus. He does realize you get holdup in every step of a process, right? He is losing Philosopher's Stone material every time he does this.

Greed's chains melt as he enters the crucible, but not Bradley's swords. So I guess they really are adamantium.

This is all just way too over-the-top for me. Why does Father need this elaborate getup? It's… intimidating? I guess? But there doesn't seem to actually be much point to it. It's a lot of pretty cruft with no real purpose.

Then we cut to Bradley talking with his family. His wife says he should retire, then Selim nerds out about how Ed is so cool and he wants to learn alchemy so he can help out his dad. I don't… I don't even. Why is Pride doing this. Is he just screwing with Bradley? Does he get off on pretending to be an innocent kid? Is the wife not in on any of this? How did the wife not know she gave birth to a freaky shadow monster? I'm not entirely clear on the mechanics of Pride so I guess I'll have to watch his intro episode later, but this looks really bizarre to me.

Fullmetal Alchemist Episode 34: "Theory of Avarice"

Archer has Edward as well as Izumi and Sig Curtis in custody. Archer reinstates Tucker as a state alchemist under his command and orders his men to take no prisoners hunting down Greed and his associates. As Greed tries to escape with his cohorts, Strongarm burst through the wall and battles with Law until Law collapses the wall, ensuring the group's escape. While Greed and co. recover in a small shack, Lust and Gluttony appear. Dolcetto and Law unwaveringly step up and sacrifice themselves allowing Greed, Al, and Marta (who is still inside of Al's armor) to escape. In a forest, Greed instructs Al to wait for him until sunrise, and for Marta to watch after him while he goes to take care of business. Marta realizes he is headed for Dante's house and tries to go after him, but Al refuses to allow her to do so. When Greed arrives at Dante's, he is greeted by Lyra, who knows his purpose for returning to Dante's. She guides him to a parlor, where he discovers Dante's body split down the middle, seemingly by a sword, and a complex alchemy circle on the ceiling and floor. Before he has time to react, Lyra uses alchemy to forcibly eject the Philosopher's Stone fragments that Greed has consumed in his life. She exits, leaving him in pain, as Ed enters. Shocked at Dante's corpse, he blames her death on Greed. While they fight, Ed discovers the secret to his human shield through logic, and uses alchemy to undo it. He manages to stab Greed in through the chest, which surprisingly causes Greed to collapse in pain. Greed explains to Edward that the only way to kill a homunculus without its regeneration is to physically murder one near the human remains that it was created with, and he also reveals that he let Al go. Greed departs this information with Ed in hopes of ensuring the deaths of the rest of the homunculi, and then he dies, much to the shock of Ed who has never killed before. At sunrise, Marta gets up and leaves Al, knowing that Greed isn't returning. The brothers reunite and, together with Winry, Izumi, and Sig, bury Greed and Dante. They bid Izumi and Sig goodbye, saying they will next find the Ishbalans.

Winry sulks in the meat shop, hoping for a call from Ed.

Archer orders the military to gun down anyone who opposes them. We helpfully get an internal monologue where he thinks he can make as many of them as he wants if he has Tucker, and Greed can't lay a hand on him as long as he has the skull. (So I guess Kimblee did tell him about the weakness?) Eh, kinda tacky. I don't like actually getting into characters' heads for exposition, it's too blunt. It's much more effective when the audience can piece these things together from context clues.

Bido is seen bleeding out in the sewer.

The military guns down chimeras. They catch up to Greed, and Roa stays behind to buy them time. Armstrong cuts them off, and demands they return Al.

Lust says Sloth was responsible for letting Greed escape?

Armstrong's battle with Dolcetto is similar, but the statue doesn't get bishie sparkles. How sad. Armstrong also does not bleed from getting smashed into the wall.

After the battle, Dolcetto caves in the tunnel and escapes with Greed.

We cut to the bar. Soldiers have killed all the patrons. Outside, Ed has slipped off and put dummies in the cloaks.

Greed hides out in a cabin in the woods. We get thoughts AGAIN, this time just him wondering what he can do now.

Lust and Gluttony show up to menace him. They say his only options are to be imprisoned again or be destroyed, because Dante is pissed at him for rebelling.

Roa still slices off Al's chains.

Greed is surprised to see Roa and Dolcetto willing to sacrifice themselves to help him escape. This is where Roa mentions he was fused with a dog and gives his line about loyalty. We don't see them die, just a smash to black.

Al escapes with Greed. Greed tells Martel to stay put until sunrise, and leave if he doesn't come back. This is where we get the scene of Martel trying to escape.

Dante confirms her house is where Greed was born. So she's been sitting here for a while.

Looks like Dante had to split.

I love Dante's theme music. It's so subtly creepy.

Greed looks sick even before Dante activates the circle. Mere proximity to the remains weakens them.

The sealing circle is on the ceiling, which blindsides Greed. Always look up when you’re entering a dungeon! Greed realizes Dante's jumped to Lyra.

The red stones disintegrate when Greed vomits them up. Seems wasteful.

Ah, the circle sigil is Izumi's tattoo. So I guess we can presume she got it from Dante.

Greed smashes Ed's automail pretty bad, and the hand breaks when Ed tries to punch the shield. Ed notes that Winry is awesome because he can still move his arm after that.

Ed figures out how to break Greed's shield, explicitly noting that he can't create something from nothing, so the shield must come from somewhere.

Ed has a breakdown when he realizes he's killed someone.

Greed's body melts into red liquid. We cut to Archer, who notices that the skull has spontaneously disintegrated. Oh, so I guess that actually does answer a question I had: the remains seem linked to the homunculi's life, so they can't just destroy them.

Ed makes two graves. One for Greed?

Ed warns Izumi the military might be after her, and tells her to go into hiding.

Conclusion

On a large scale, these episodes are similar in events, but they're incredibly different in details. Most notably, I much prefer how OG handles the military side of things. It's far more subtle, and raises more questions of what Ed signed on for instead of just pitting him against them. Brotherhood is too sudden: the military is good, now suddenly it's evil, and the only difference is that this might cause problems for Ed. OG's coverage focuses on personal culpability, the ease with which the military can corrupt, the lengths to which the characters will go. Ed has to come to terms with killing people; Mustang must come to terms with the possibility he is starting another massacre. These are hard questions that challenge the characters. In Brotherhood, it's just "You thought Greed was the boss fight, but psyche, this other dude is even scarier!" That's impressive if what's engaging you is who can beat whom, but that's not what engages me about stories.

We even end with a preview of our respective villains, though OG is, as usual, subtler. We know there is some connection between Dante (or at least her house) and the homunculi, and Greed notices that something very weird is going on with Lyra. The pieces are starting to come together.

Even the fights are better in OG, in my opinion. Brotherhood is much too manic and features too many superhuman acrobatics. An even fight is also just so much more interesting than Bradly effortlessly pwning someone.

And I think this is important: Ed gets to defeat the villain. This is something that exasperated me as Brotherhood continued: Ed becomes more and more of a spectator in his own narrative, despite being the only hero I was really interested in. OG keeps Ed at the center of the narrative and allows him crucial victories, and I think that makes OG a tighter narrative overall.

On representation: In Brotherhood, Martel dies stupidly and pointlessly. In OG, she is the sole survivor of an otherwise all-male group, and gets to live for another arc.

Also… now that we've gotten to our first homunculi death, I think it'd be a good time to bring up the theme of irony. Everyone says the homunculi meet ironic fates in Brotherhood. They do not. They just don't, okay? Irony means a situation is different than you expected. "They are the thing they're named after" is the exact opposite of that. You'd have to build up something where they claim to be above their own sin, so it's ironic that they end up succumbing to them or something… but that's not really what happens. They're just either killed by their sin, or killed by someone who embodies their sin better. When you don't actually engage with the sin theme at all and just use them as motifs because you think they're cool, that is not deep meaningful symbolism. "It's just cool" is a fine reason to do or enjoy something, but that doesn't automatically make it have substance. Step back a little, guys, please.

OG is not much better, granted, but I do think it's a lot more meaningful when the homunculi actually do come from alchemists' sins. I always got the impression Dante used the sin theme as a commentary on how or why they were made. Lust was the guy's girlfriend; Sloth was put together poorly (or perhaps it's a jab at Hoenheim, for not coming back to save her?); Pride was an experiment to show how awesome she was; and we know she made Greed, so perhaps that was also a purposeful experiment, perhaps just to make a full set? It's not as blatant because it doesn't matter as much because OG isn't as interested in cool things for the sake of it, but there are ways you can engage with it.

With that in mind, though, I think you can make a case that the homunculi's fates in OG actually are ironic, or at least poetic in a more meaningful way. Let's begin with:

Greed is wasted.

We don't know why Dante made Greed, but we know she did make him. She kept him imprisoned because she didn't want to kill him the first time, but now she cuts her losses and disposes of him. Now, an important component of greed to me is hoarding, the inability to give things up. Greed could have still been useful; certainly, Dante invested all those red stones in him that are now gone. He seemed to be hoping that that would work in his favor and get Dante to spare him, but Dante didn't care. He is killed by a lack of greed. Even narratively, he is wasted: his only purpose is to die to teach Ed, and us, how homunculi can be killed.

#fullmetal alchemist #fma #fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma 2003 #liveblog

[purple-spring]

In here, too.

Post-2x12 extended moment.

Summary: The Jones trailer was a document of their story - of their love, their wounds and their scars. Tonight, they were writing a new chapter.

“Betty’s limbs were imbued with a will of their own, and though she was slowed by the headiness of the moment, she had never felt more sure of herself, or of what she was doing.

He wanted her. Needed her.

And she was going to give it all to him.”

Author’s notes: My first smutty fic, so please be kind! Thank you to the incredible @jandjsalmon and @theatreofexpression for all your help, encouragement and support as I wrote this, and to @aunt-imogene for the gorgeous gif.

Read below the cut, or here on my Ao3.

The Jones trailer was dotted with remnants of their history.

From where she sat, Betty had a clear view of everything. The spot in the living room where he first told her that he loved her. The kitchen counter where he had lifted her roughly, his mouth hot and searching on hers, overcome with passion. The door he creaked open to an ominous crowd of Serpents, who handed him his own jacket. The couch where they had fallen asleep the night they were investigating the Black Hood.

And where they sat now, silently watching TV.

What chapter of our history is this supposed to be? Betty pondered the question as she glanced at him tentatively. They were seated away from each other, their bodies not even touching, yet painfully, the closest they’d been in weeks. Her shoes were off and his beanie was lying flat on the space next to him - small items of clothing discarded casually, as though they were learning to be exposed and unguarded around each other all over again.  

The last 24 hours had been a blur. By some twist of fate, they had fallen into the old rhythms of Betty and Jughead, Sleuthing Duo Extraordinaire, all over again. It felt familiar. It felt right.

But there was something else there - something aching and tender that lingered beneath the dynamic energy that came from bouncing ideas off each other and pursuing leads. To Betty’s surprise, Jughead had broached the subject of their relationship and had been open and vulnerable, apologising to her and owning up to so much - his regret over their breakup, his misdemeanours with Toni, his brief time as a drug mule, and his mutilation of Penny Peabody.

He was laying it all out for her, exposing himself willingly after weeks of shutting himself away from her.

And she was overwhelmed.

What does this mean for us? She looked over to him, fought the urge to reach out and touch his face. Is there still an ‘us’ to be salvaged from the wreck?

Jughead turned the television off. “Good old Hiram Lodge,” he muttered. “I wonder what he’s planning for us. On the Southside.”

She contemplated the question silently. “Maybe we can ask Veronica on Monday.” Oh god, Veronica. Betty winced at the thought of her best friend being drawn into this mess. How does she fit into all this? For the most part, she may have been reeling from the suddenness of being thrust back into Jughead’s sphere again, but still, she couldn’t help but wonder about what would become of them - Veronica, Archie, Jughead, herself. Even Josie and Cheryl. The children of Riverdale. The victims of their parents’ histories.

“Yeah.” Jughead sighed. “Maybe we should just investigate quietly, until we know more.”

Betty nodded, acquiescing.

“We haven’t saved the trailer park yet. And I’m on probation from the Serpents, whatever that means. Because of what I did to Penny.”

What I did to Penny. The thought of it still unsettled her. He hadn’t gone into detail, but Betty knew him enough not to feel angry or incensed - instead, she could only feel unbearable sadness at the desperation he must have been driven to, to feel as though he had no other option than to do what he did.

“But we stopped her from coming back,” Jughead conceded. “ And we got rid of Tall Boy.”

“ We. ” She couldn’t help it. Her face broke out into an involuntary smile. “It’s just nice to hear that again.” And it was. After the many lonely nights that followed their breakup, the dark days of the Black Hood, the emotional rollercoaster of finding her brother and being led into the sordid, clandestine world he inhabited, sitting here with Jughead felt… good. Stable.

He turned to her. “ Look, I’ll be apologising for it for the rest of my life, but I’m sorry. I am.” Betty looked up at him, and saw that his eyes were filled with remorse. “For feeling like I needed to shield you from what I was going through with the Serpents, or… my darkness.” He scoffed at that last word, seeming to cringe at the cliche, but finding nothing better to describe the bleakness of his world without her.

“I can handle it.” And I want to, she added silently.

“I know,” he responded, as if reading her thoughts. “I know you can.”

Betty exhaled. The weight of his words stirred something in her, and suddenly the door she had worked so hard to close since their breakup flew wide open, inviting her to walk through again. And though every part of her longed to do just that, she felt tentative and scared. There was still so much that she needed to tell him. So much that she feared to divulge.

She sighed, her yearning overcome by common sense. “I should probably…” she broke off. You should stay. You should stay. You should stay. “…start heading home.”

The fragile bubble of their moment deflated. But what else was she supposed to do? This had to be enough for her, for now - the simple hope that they weren’t done yet. She needed to leave on that note, because she wanted to fall asleep tonight with that hope tucked away into her heart.

“Or you could stay,” he said, in a half-whisper.

Oh.

Betty stared straight ahead, alarmed by the sudden turn of events and afraid that if she so much as breathed in his direction, she’d betray just how desperately she needed to hear him say that - a direct reversal of their ill-fated conversation in front of the Whyte Wyrm, when he told her to go home. This was anything but that. He was inviting her into his home, into himself. No more pushing each other away.

I guess it didn’t stick, after all.

She exhaled slowly, releasing a breath that had been constricting her chest. She still couldn’t bear to look at him, not now when every part of her - body, heart, mind and soul - was clicking into place as it pointed her to one inevitable conclusion.

“Stay,” he repeated.

His fingers grazed the edge of her dress, a wordless request for her consent. His eyes were fixed on her, all but begging. His mouth hung open, parted as it lingered on the remnants of that single word. Stay.

Betty’s limbs were imbued with a will of their own, and though she was slowed by the headiness of the moment, she had never felt more sure of herself, or of what she was doing.

He wanted her. Needed her.

And she was going to give it all to him.

…

Betty’s heart was clamorous in her chest as their lips met for the first time in what felt like an eternity. She felt curious rather than shocked at the sight of herself climbing up to straddle his lap and pin him against the couch. How did her body even know how to do such things? Then she remembered who she was kissing, remembered that his touch incinerated her unlike anything or anyone she had ever known, and she knew that the answer to that question was tied up entirely in him.

This is your doing, Jughead Jones. This is –

A sharp, metallic sound interrupted her thoughts, and suddenly she was aware of goosebumps raising on the bare flesh on her back as it met the cold air. He had unzipped her dress, and his hands now frantically, expertly grasped the hems, sliding them forward, away from her body.

If there had been any question about where this was going, they were swiftly answered in that one motion. She was now partially naked, her dress bunched around her waist, her silken lavender bra exposed. Hungrily, Jughead continued to kiss her, but his mouth now wandered downwards and away from her mouth, to her neck, her chest, the top of her breasts, leaving a trail of heat in its wake, every coherent thought undone. Underneath her, his desire was making itself evident as she felt his length harden against her, right where she was already growing wetter by the second. On instinct, her hips pressed forward, wanting this, wanting him with a primal, possessive fierceness. He bucked up in response, and she felt a jolt of pure, white-hot pleasure shooting through her body.

“W-wait, wait, wait…” she managed to breathe out. He barely let up, his lips now making quick work of her collarbone. “I need to tell you something.”

If Jughead heard her, it would’ve been entirely accidental. He was completely focused on her, and she remembered now how he always had a thing for kissing her neck, for nipping his teeth at her pulse point in a way that always elicited a breathy moan (which she always had to bite back whenever they were making out on her bed, afraid of the thin walls and of Alice Cooper’s wrath). She knew that if she didn’t physically pull away, he wouldn’t have paid her any heed.

“What?” he panted. “What is it?”

S he felt her body screaming at her, protesting now as Jughead’s lips left her skin. Yes, Betty, it huffed at her. What IS it?

She looked down at him - his head slightly tilted, questioning, his eyes soft and vulnerable but darkened by lust, his face flushed by the heat from its contact with her skin. She had stopped them with the intention of telling him the truth - which truth, she could barely say herself. There were… a few, to put it mildly.

But they were immediately overwhelmed and overtaken by the one truth that mattered most in that moment.

That she loved him. That she never stopped. Couldn’t stop.

And that this - this swirling storm of passion and lust that churned between them, even now as they were parted - was long overdue.

She decided to tell him that truth.

“Nothing,” she whispered in response to his question. Her fingers grazed his bare chest, longing to undo his shirt. “I just… want you. I want all of you. Tonight.”

All of him. Every last inch. Every shade of light and dark. Everything.

If Jughead was impassioned before, her words clearly switched on another gear. She watched him, with a faint sense of pride and smug pleasure, as his eyes grazed greedily over her breasts, evidently seconds away from ravishing them with his mouth.

No, she thought, as she gently tilted his chin up and pulled him in for a searing kiss. Not yet.

Betty needed him in slow motion, at least for now. Needed to savour each second of this encounter. To store up every last frame of it in her memory.

Jughead instinctively picked up on the hint and circled his arms around her bare waist, leaning into the kiss, gentler than before. She sighed into his mouth, their tongues tangling together as they sought a softer intimacy.

How long they spent there, suspended in the leisurely heat of their kiss, Betty had no idea. But as she felt his fingers inching their way up again to the clasp of her bra, she quickly decided that she’d had enough of being the only one naked on the couch. She broke away from their kiss and swiftly pulled him up by his suspenders, which she promptly slid off his shoulders.

Betty saw surprise register on his face at the abrupt change in pace before leaning forward to kiss him again, this time with her hands busy at his shirt. Her fingers sought flesh, and was rewarded when Jughead reached down and unbuttoned the shirt himself. Mirroring his early movements, she gripped the hems and half-tore the garment off his body, freeing his skin so that it was hers to explore. This time, it was her turn to gawk at him - the sinewy muscles of his frame, the slight shadows made by the ripples on his torso.

She had barely finished sweeping her eyes over the expanse of his skin when he pressed his mouth to her left shoulder, the lacy strap of her bra falling off as it gave way to his persistent need to taste her. Leaving a trail of hot breath in their wake, his lips caressed the downward slope of her right breast, and she tilted her head back, closing her eyes in ecstasy as she bit back a cry.

Jughead noticed that and pulled her closer to him, pressing his mouth against her ear. “You’re here with me, Betty, not in your room,” he murmured against her earlobe. “Let me hear you. Please.”

She was so caught up in the urgency of that whisper that she was stunned when her bra suddenly came loose, his clever fingers having worked the clasp, her breasts now freed and exposed to his hungry stare. As he bent down and took one peaked nipple into his mouth, the moans she had worked so hard to stop in her throat pierced the air of the empty trailer, fast and breathless.

“Yeah, Betts, that’s it,” he said, murmuring against her skin. She rocked on top of him, her pussy wet and in desperate need of friction. He was right there with her, thrusting his hardness up against her, and she thought - in between the ministrations of his mouth and the wandering of his hands - that if they kept this up any longer, she’d probably end up reeling over the edge of an orgasm before she even knew it.

Jughead broke away and looked up at her, their eyes level. “Turn around,” he said, his voice low but assertive, no trace of softness or vulnerability evident.

Betty arched an eyebrow at him as she stood up, discarding her dress on the couch, her body completely naked, save for her lacy lavender briefs.

“Wait,” he said, interrupting her as she began to turn. “Can you…? Just stand there for me.”

Betty obeyed him tentatively. They had done some fooling around prior to their break-up, but she had never been this nude in front of him before. His eyebrows were knitted together, his brow furrowed as he looked her over. Betty grew nervous as his silence extended.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing,” he said, his voice ragged, reverent. “You’re just… you’re breathtaking, Betty.”

His words reduced her to a hot, wanton mess. He inched forward in his seat and drew her closer, planting a flutter of a kiss on her abdomen while his hands grazed the back of her thighs. He reached up to cup her ass, then hooked his fingers underneath the flimsy material of her underwear, dragging it down slowly over her lithe, shapely legs.

Her heart was hammering in her ribs as his hands gripped her hips and swivelled her around before pulling her naked form down onto his lap, with the two of them facing in the same direction. Immediately, Betty saw why he wanted her positioned this way: his hands reached around, firmly groping her full, pert breasts.

Jughead’s hands had wandered before, and she had actively encouraged him, but those incursions upon her body were nothing like this: forward, dominant and sure. Perhaps the darkening days of Riverdale were propelling this need: if tomorrow can’t be promised, if death and danger were right around the corner, then…

“ Fuck, Betts.” He swore as she reached behind her to stroke his cock. Sitting up slightly, he pressed his mouth up against her jaw, whispering and groaning her name, loosening forth a stream of words incoherent, sweet and filthy all at once. In rare moments of lucidity, she watched her body in fascination as it squirmed and contorted in response to him, her legs spreading wide open, begging for him to touch her. When his fingers finally found her throbbing entrance, her back arched right off him, she let out an obscene moan, and he threw an arm around her to hold her down against his body.  

“Stay with me,” he commanded. Her breath was coming out in wild spurts now as he traced circles on her clit. It took all of her restraint not to bear down and have the whole thing over quickly. She was frantic for release, but she needed more than that tonight; she needed intimacy.

Jughead slipped a finger into her, slowly at first, gauging her reaction. “Keep going,” she pleaded, and with one slick movement he buried it in. Her cries were pure and primal as he pumped it in and out of her, his voice still raspy in her ear, his other hand working her breast as she writhed in ecstasy.

The tightness that was winding up in her abdomen was now building up to an eruption. Betty recognised the onslaught, and reached up to grab a firm hold of Jughead’s hair - not enough to pull, but certainly enough to be felt. “I’m… I’m nearly…”

“Let me feel it, Betts,” he muttered into her ear as he nipped on her earlobe and pressed down on her clit. “Every bit of it.”

She clamped her pelvis down into his hand, shamelessly fucking his finger. “Jug. I’m, oh god , I–”

Explosions of white behind her eyes. Her mouth forming a silent, salacious scream. Every muscle taut with pleasure as she rode wave after wave. Then, just as she thought it had died down, the aftershocks of her orgasm shuddered through her body like small tremors.

It could’ve been seconds or hours later - she wasn’t sure. Time suddenly felt fluid, irrelevant. Her body lay limp in Jughead’s arms as he kissed her neck, which was now covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

“Jug… please. In me.” Her breath hitched and she was on the verge of incoherence as the last quivers of their encounter shook out of her.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder before looking around the living room. “Here? You don’t want to move to the bed?”

If he had asked her the same question on that night when he unceremoniously slammed her against the kitchen cabinets, she would have undoubtedly said yes. After all, his bed was the trailer’s closest approximation to how she’d pictured their first time in her mind: a small, quaint cottage in the middle of nowhere, a four-poster bed covered in damask curtains, roses on the sheets, candles on the floor.

But she had tended to his wounds on this couch. Fallen asleep in it while enveloped in his arms. Sat upon it with him through happiness and tension and peace and instability.

It was perfect.

“No,” she whispered, as she turned around. “I want this. I want you. Right here.”

Jughead didn’t need to be told twice, as he undid his belt and pushed down his trousers, his hard length springing forth. Betty straddled him again and immediately started kissing him, her wetness slick on his cock. In between kisses, he managed to ask her, “Are you still…? Do I need to…?”

“I’m on the pill, yeah,” she murmured.

He leaned back and looked at her. “If you want… I can still get a condom, Betty. It’s no big deal.”

“No, no,” she protested, before fixing her stare on him. “I said I wanted all of you, Jug. I… I want to feel you, too.”

Jughead could only nod dumbly, much too overcome for speech. He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a soft, sweet kiss. They locked eyes, and she nodded in assent. Yes. Now.  

Betty sat up off his lap and lowered herself gently, gingerly, onto him. She hissed through her teeth as she felt her walls expand suddenly upon his entrance, a sharp pang of pain shooting through her body. Jughead groaned as he was buried to the hilt, but kept his eyes on her. As she winced, he grabbed her hands, gently prying her fingers open before kissing her palms, right where her scars were.

Betty was suddenly less alert to the pain and more conscious of the significance of that gesture. How was it that the person who had shattered her world just moments earlier was now being so gentle, so tender? She looked down at him before tucking her hair behind her ear, and bending down to kiss his shoulder - the very same one that Toni had tattooed with the symbol of his loyalty to the South.

When she said she wanted all of him, she meant it.

Every mistake. Every misdemeanour. Every dark and hidden corner.

Jughead began to thrust up into her, and though some remnant of pain lingered behind, she began to sense how this might feel good, how she might want to try it again, and soon. He leaned back on the couch, taking her forward with him, and the new angle sent sparks of pleasures through her. Slowly, they began to build a rhythm - thrust, grind, up, down.

She clenched down on him, experimenting with the sensation, wanting to see what he liked, what made him feel good. At times, he stopped their rhythm in order to press her down onto him, lapping up her tits, ravishing them again with his mouth. As he built up pressure, his speed increasing, she sensed it; he was nearing the brink, and he was ready for freefall.

She pushed up against him, grinding, bucking up her hips with wild abandon, the pain now a distant memory. He groaned his appreciation, all words lost in incoherent bliss, only sensation remaining. Tight. Wet. Euphoria. Faster, she rode him, every part of her thrumming and throbbing and present in the moment.

“Betts, I’m–”

“Yes, Jug,” She closed her eyes. “Yes.”

“I’m about to –”

His body tensed. Their voices mingled as they said each other’s names in tandem - her voice a whisper; his, a muted shout. Seconds of stunned silence followed as he wordlessly buried his head in her neck before breaking out into a deeper, more guttural groan. Betty held on to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as his warm release filled her. A final moan escaped his lips before he collapsed back into the couch.

A small laugh escaped her lips. 

Holy.

Shit.

 …

Later on, after they were both cleaned up and somewhat dressed, they did end up on his bed, only because she was cold and the couch was too narrow for them to lie on. His arm was slung lazily over her bare stomach, their legs entangled, their silence a comfort.

“I need to go home soon,” she finally said, her tone regretful as she stared at all the missed calls on her phone.

Jughead drew her closer. “You’re home here.”

Betty smiled and turned so that she was facing him. “I know. I am.”

She kissed him before she sat up and got off the bed, the soreness in her legs a pleasant reminder of their encounter. He groaned as she stood up, loathe to part with her. As she slipped her dress back on, combing her fingers through her hair, he fixed his eyes on her, unrelenting.

“You feel okay?” he asked.

“I’ve never been better, Juggie.”

“Good,” he said. “Do you want a ride home or something?”

“No, I’ve got the car,” she replied, somewhat reluctantly, the temptation to feel him between her legs again sorely inviting. “Thank you, though.”

They both fell quiet.

Three unsaid words hung in the air between them. It had been a while since either of them had verbalised it. If she really thought about it, Betty supposed that it might be nice to hear themselves say it. Complete the circle, as it were.

But the night had made that redundant, at least for now. And there were many nights ahead of them. Many days in which they could let it be said, whether whispered against a pillow or uttered in conversation or screamed at the height of pleasure.

Betty looked around Jughead’s room. She thought of the trailer, how it framed and reflected their story, and what her presence in his room now said about the next sequence in their narrative.

The Underwood typewriter she had given him sat proudly on his desk. His small library of books was piled high on the floor. His Serpent jacket was draped over a chair. His bedsheets of dark plaid were soft and inviting.

All of a sudden, she knew the three words that she wanted to and could say, right here and right now. They came out of pure desire, but also out of the promise that the chapters of their history had not shuddered to a halt; that they were being written again.

“In here, too,” she half-whispered to herself.

Jughead smiled, not quite catching it. “What was that?”

“In here, too,” she repeated more clearly. “It’ll happen again, and it’ll happen in here. You and me. We’ll make this ours.”

“‘Ours’,” he exhaled. “I like that.”

She stooped down to kiss him one more time. Quietly, she made it a vow. Imbued it with her love, her desire, her passion for him. Whispered into it the memory of tonight. Made it a wish for an infinite amount of tomorrows.

“Yeah,” she said, her laughter on his lips. “Ours.”

#bughead #bughead fanfiction #bughead smut #paperlesscrown writes

[pinksausageduo]

soulmates aren’t for forever

member: kang daniel genre: angst summary: soulmate au! you have a curse, you can see and cut people’s soulmate strings. you hated the idea of soulmates until you met your soulmate, kang daniel. but fate really does hate you because he has another soulmate. now whose string do you cut? warnings: cheating & suicide requested: nope! BUT IT IS KANG DANIEL’S BIRTHDAY!! daniel the nation’s pick, our cute peach with a bunny smile. all of the fandom loves and appreciates you so much. please on behalf of your fans look after yourself, don’t get sick or overwork yourself. you bust your ass and you are constantly busy and we appreciate it so much but please we want to see you happy and healthy! we love you so so much and we hope you have an amazing 21st birthday!

red strings of fate 

they connected soulmates 

once soulmates touched 

the string instantly showed and they would see the string for a few minutes

until it disappeared 

but they would become true soulmates when they kissed

the couple could see the red string whenever they wanted to 

you were different though

your string was a dark nearly black red

while everyones was a bright cherry red 

you had a curse 

though some might call it a gift

but you hated it with every fibre of your body 

you could see the red strings if the two people were in your eyesight

but not only that you could cut them

you had the power to doom a meant to be couple into the deepest pits of desperation and loneliness 

they usually broke to the point that they killed themselves

the power you had was terrifying 

but not only that 

if you cut a person’s red string around their finger it would instantly kill them 

you’ve never cut anyone’s strings nor do you ever want to 

but there was a chance that you might had to in the future 

your dark red string meant your soulmate

had another soulmate

when you thought about that it broke a little bit of you 

if your soulmate meets the both of you before 21 

you had to cut at least one of the soulmate lines or all three of you will die 

once choice, your soulmate’s other soulmate, you or all of you

in the end you were destroying someone’s will to live 

and that it could be yours terrified you but the fact you might have to live with someone’s death was even more scary

but your parents were the only ones who knew and always said that you could never cut your string not for anyone

your little sister didn’t know, your parents didn’t want her to know 

and you agreed she loved the idea of soulmates 

you could never tell her that you hated it with a passion 

you wanted to protect your little sister from the horrors of the world

she was full of life and love 

you loved her a lot

but still everyday was hard to get up and to be honest you dreaded to meet your soulmate

you just wished you would never meet him and once you were 21 you were completely free

but those feelings completely changed when you saw him

kang daniel 

your soulmate 

there he was with a group of his friends at a park 

you were reading on the swings 

it was the first time you ever saw each other

there he was with his adorable smile and messed up hair with laughing with his friends 

then you two met eyes

and everything in the universe felt right for that moment

you didn’t have to worry about the red strings or any of your other troubles

all you could feel was your heart beating so fast against your chest

and had an overwhelming rush of pure desire and affection 

he felt it too the moment he met your eyes

daniel started to walk fast then started jog before sprinting towards you completely dismissing his friends 

but you couldn’t move you were frozen 

daniel reached you out of breath a little sweaty but with the biggest smile on his face 

that completely melted your heart in milliseconds

“you’re my soulmate” he said affirmatively but sweetly like he had no single doubt you two were meant to be

and couldn’t even imagine that someone else was out there for him 

other than you 

before you could say anything he hugged you 

and gosh you felt all the emptiness simply disappear the moment he did 

his arms wrapped even tighter around you like he if he let you go you might just disappear

and there you were hugging him back savouring it all in 

him, his scent, the feeling, the softness of his hoodie, the warmth. comfort and safety, the complete overwhelmingness of love from him

then you two finally broke apart

and reality came crashing down 

your dark nearly black red soulmate string was showing

then you could see the confused frown of daniel 

and your heart ached and you had the overwhelming urge to burst into tears

you wanted to believe it was all lie that it’d turn bright red if you met your soulmate

no fate wanted to curse you

rip every single bit of your heart, soul, spirit and mind to shreds

then you choked out “i’m so sorry”  

as tears slipped out of your eyes no matter how much you wanted to stop them

daniel knew something was extremely wrong but he was perfect to you 

he wrapped his arms around you making you feel instantly better

and whispered soothingly 

“it’s okay whatever this, you and me, we’re in this together, we’re soulmates and i promise i will be there for you for ” he paused slightly before breathing out 

“forever” 

now a few years later just a couple of weeks before you turn 21

it was the day after daniel’s 21st birthday 

you only had a couple of weeks left until you could spend your whole entire life happily together

after meeting you two spent the whole night talking and what would happen if he met his other soulmate

he finally convinced you that even if he met his other soulmate before 21 

which was pretty unlikely since he said he would try to avoid crowds and bumping into anyone 

that you wouldn’t have to cut their string if they never kissed 

and he promised he would never be unfaithful to you 

you believed him not only because he promised

but because you wanted to believe him so bad 

you were desperate for his words to be true

and as years went on you slowly did believe him 

not only that you fell head over heels in love with him

every single moment with him made you so ridiculously happy

he knew you inside out absolutely everything

and even then he loved you 

you two only had one more obstacle to overcome and everything would be okay 

his birthday passed now after yours 

you two would in the clear

daniel and you could actually live life love it enjoy it to the fullest

and time wouldn’t go fast enough

today was the day your little sister visited 

the first time she met daniel 

you were super happy excited 

two of the most important people in your life was meeting today 

but unbeknownst to you she came to your apartment you live in with daniel just a bit too early 

she knocked 

daniel opened the door as he heard the knocks 

your little sister went right in then stopped in the living room 

as daniel said to her casually “hey you must be y/n little sister”

she thought you opened the door but it wasn’t 

it was daniel 

your little sister said sweetly “yup i am you must be daniel, y/n’s soulmate”

he closed the door 

they both turned around at the exact same time

then they met eyes

and then it was like the universe stopped 

every bit of them was screaming to go to each other 

the burning passion of love, desire even lust 

was completely overwhelming any thought any sort of logic

daniel couldn’t think or move he was completely frozen

his eyes fixated on the girl in front of him 

your little sister felt every single sense tingling like she wanted-no-had to kiss him 

his heart beating 10x more than his heart beated for you 

you 

he thought of you for a spilt of a second

and he hesitated his mind trying to fight control over his heart

guilt pierced through him before desire overcame him

but it didn’t matter what he felt or thought

your little sister ran to him 

and daniel didn’t even need to think he instantly picked her up

she wrapped her legs around his waist

and her arms snaked around his neck 

with all of her heart she kissed him 

and without missing a beat daniel kissed her back with all the love and passion he could muster

both of them too absorbed into their world

to hear the click of a lock being unlocked by a key 

and you with a smile on your face wearing daniel’s hoodie

the one you cried on the first time you two met 

you opened the door 

and there he was the love of your life 

with your precious little sister that you loved and protected all your life

kissing 

and that shattered your heart into a million pieces

desperation, sorrow, disbelief, anger, absolute pure sadness overwhelmed you

it felt like a million knives were continuously stabbing into your heart 

your heart was screaming in pain 

it was being tortured

and the hot tears that were falling from your eyes were

for your sister

for your broken heart

but most of all for kang daniel 

the supposed love of your life 

the tears were running down your face non stop 

but what broke absolutely all of you

your soul, your mind, your heart, your spirit

every single bit of you was completely, utterly, broken 

by that one bright red string 

around both of their fingers 

the colour of true love 

the colour of soulmates

the colour that was never meant to be yours to ever have 

that string that could never be around your finger 

you looked at your string 

it was basically black now 

as if it knew your life was nearly over 

you let out a strangled sob

like it was from a tortured and enslaved animal 

they broke apart 

you didn’t see the shock in their faces, the guilt as they finally realised what they did 

then the eyes you fell for so deeply

those gorgeous soft chocolatey brown eyes met yours 

you could see it in his eyes

the guilt, the sadness, the pity and that he was so sorry 

but you couldn’t see his love anymore that you always saw

when you looked into his eyes 

his love

it wasn’t yours anymore

it was hers 

and with that thought you whispered out the last words you thought you would ever say to the love of your life 

“you couldn’t love me for forever” 

then without even a second glance you sprinted out of there 

you ran and ran and ran 

there were voices somewhere in the background but you didn’t even register them 

somehow you got to your car

with shaking hands you turned the engine on 

and without knowing where you were going you started driving

tears were still streaming down your face

and you were screaming and screaming until your voice was raw 

your whole body was shaking 

you still hadn’t processed it at all 

you didn’t even register that daniel was probably chasing after you 

not a singly bit of you cared about anything

especially not yourself 

nor your life 

then you reached it 

the park 

where you and daniel first met

the first time you felt love 

where you actually thought you could live happily ever after 

you hobbled towards the swings 

and all of you wished you had never met him

never met kang daniel 

but 

even after all his empty promises, his lies, his utmost betrayal 

you still were completely and utterly in love with him 

but it didn’t matter

he was in love with your little sister

and she deserved him 

your little sister deserved to live happily with the love of her life

with kang daniel

tears kept on streaming down your face 

while your heart kept on screaming 

and your mind felt like it was splitting apart

your soul felt like it was being sucked away from you

and your spirit was broken, beyond repair 

you had no reason to live anymore 

you just didn’t want to 

then scissors just simply appeared in the hoodie pocket

and you grabbed them instantly 

without even a second thought 

they were small, silver scissors, and sharp as a knife

you could hear a car parking near you 

and then you remembered 

the feeling of the first hug you received from daniel

his scent, the feeling of safety and comfort and the softness of this exact same hoodie 

and the feeling of pure untainted love 

then you heard his voice, you thought you were hallucinating 

you heard him shout your name “Y/N!!!!”

your body fell instantly calm, you finally felt at peace 

with a smile on your face and thinking you were at one point loved 

you snipped the red string around your finger

daniel reached you before you fell off the swings and he whispered your name over and over again tears staining his cheeks 

and with a few last words, you left your world with him 

this world 

“i will love you for forever”

i’m so sorry for making you feel like this on daniel’s birthday please forgive me! i love you all loads and i love daniel a lot too. also seongwoo’s heirs will be up in a few days. but please tell me what you thought of the scenario if would mean a lot, this is my 2nd angst and idk how good/bad i am at writing angst. please give me feedback! i love you all! hope everyone’s enjoying all the daniel content!

here’s some fluff if you need it! kang daniel: the heirs or prince au  (this is iris’s idea btw she does this after her angsts)

gif: google images

#wanna one #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #kang daniel #kang daniel scenarios #kang daniel imagines #daniel #produce 101 #produce 101 scenarios #produce 101 imagines #wanna one angst #kang daniel angst #wanna one soulmate #kang daniel soulmate #happydanielday #kpop soulmate au #scheduled: im dead

[avid-aviator-blog]

Hi! Okay I know this is a little random, but I was wondering if you could share any of your headcanons about ace Obi-Wan?

@solitudeontatooine So I haven’t been on tumblr lately because of school and depression but I just saw this and of course I will share headcanons about Ace!Obi-Wan. I will literally always talk about ace headcannons. 

#1 When Obi-Wan found the label Asexual he made so. many. Ace. jokes. His friends and Master pretended to hate it, but they were all super happy that he could be comfortable in his own skin, finally. 

#2 At first he didn’t realize sexual attraction was, like… a thing.. that people experienced. Jedi sex ed was very thorough on ‘this is how to have sex safely with whoever’ but they didn’t really talk about different orientations a lot because it isn’t really a big deal. (You got people that wanna do the do with a Besalisk, ain’t nobody be carin’ if you’re a girl that likes girls.) So Obi-Wan always thought that sex was just something other people did to be intimate, but not Jedi. Why do other people do it? Who knows, not Obi-Wan that’s for sure. 

#3 Qui-Gon was an openly affectionate type person before Tahl died. Like that guy that hugs and kisses everybody. So the first time Obi-Wan gets kissed by a teenager that he had rescued, he didn’t think anything of it. Until Quinlan Vos started teasing him about it. 

#4 Some teachers say that sexual feelings are natural and that struggling with them is normal, but Jedi must control themselves… Obi-Wan is praised because he never seems to lose his head around attractive people, (and to a lesser degree because as far as his Master knows, hasn’t had sex at all) Obi-Wan wants to tell them that he isn’t overcoming any primal urges.. he just doesn’t feel them… He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t want to know why he is ‘unnatural’

#5 Eventually Qui-Gon asks about why a healthy 16-year-old boy never seemed interested in…well, anyone. Obi-Wan is all ‘ that’s not fair, Master, I have a lot of friends and I’m very interested in all of them.’ Turns out, that is Not What Qui-Gon Meant. This leads to a discussion about the fact that Obi-Wan just… doesn’t feel the need to or want to have sex with anyone. Qui-Gon gives him words for the things he didn’t experience. It wasn’t a problem, wasn’t unnatural, it was just part of Obi-Wan. 

#6 Satine. 

Ah Satine. She was a firecracker and one that Obi-Wan loved more than anything else. But he still didn’t want to have sex with her. Sometimes even kisses made him uncomfortable, and he told her that. And she told him that was okay. She wasn’t a Jedi but she would quiet her mind, and cradle him with her presence, in her mind, with her soul. This, Obi-Wan thinks, This is what sex must be like, only better. He would have left the Jedi Order had she asked, but had she asked, and had he left, neither would still be the person the other had fallen in love with. 

#7 He had a lot of trouble with Anakin as a padawan because he didn’t understand the struggles the boy was having with sexuality and lust. It…didn’t compute. Anakin called him a stuffy old Jedi, everyone likes sex. Obi-Wan doesn’t really know how to tell a 13-year-old with more sexual experience than he (a 27-year-old) has, how to curb that passion. 

#8 When the Jedi start getting media coverage because of the clone wars, people definitely notice that Kenobi is Fine (TM). Most of the time it isn’t something Obi-Wan thinks about but occasionally he’ll overhear a clone or a civilian say something about his butt or sth, and he completely malfunctions. full on Error 101: rationale could not be found, malfunctions. He doesn’t say anything to anyone that it makes him really uncomfortable to know that people think of him that way, but eventually, Anakin picks up on it. Ani doesn’t really understand why but shortly after this revelation their troops at least stop talking about it. 

#9 Anakin doesn’t know that Obi is Ace until Obi-Wan is talking to Ahsoka about the Jedi Code and love and he mentions that “some people just don’t crave that kind of physical intimacy, and that’s okay. The important thing isn’t whether or not you feel something, it’s what you do about it.” and suddenly a lot of things click. Anakin doesn’t know the word asexual yet, but he feels very, very small about some things he said to his master when they were both younger. 

#10 

Years and Years later, people wonder about the hermit on Tatooine. He never takes anyone home, and he never goes home with anyone, and he never spends time at the brothels and that isn’t the strangest thing about him, but it is, indeed, strange. Tatooine is a place where people don’t live long so they indulge in whatever pleasure they want to whenever they want to. Luke... Luke also doesn’t take anyone home and never goes home with anyone and never visits a brothel and his aunt and uncle don’t care but his friends think it’s weird. They don’t know anyone like Luke. 

So Luke goes to find the hermit, maybe he’ll have answers. 

He does. 

#solitudeontatooine #The Aviator Speaks #asexual obi wan kenobi #asexual luke skywalker #I don't know what i'm doing #Headcanon #you were asking for headcanons #but i almost wrote a sotry #i'm sorry #i'm not good at this #thanks for asking thoug #feel free to talk to me about this #i don't make sense but i enjoy talking back