#my take on the hamlet conversation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

longing-for-the-past-times · 8 months

Text

Their reaction to seeing you reading

Task Force 141 x Reader headcanons

notes: I don't know if this was done before, but once I got the idea, I couldn't get it out of my head before writing it down. This is my first time writing headcanons, I hope I did the characters justice :). Let me know what you think about it!

find it on a03 masterlist

Captain 'John' Price

He is headed towards the lounging area after staying overtime because of due paperwork. It is already dark outside and, when he sees the lights on, he thinks someone just forgot them that way.

You may understand his surprised reaction when he sees you sitting cross-legged on the couch, a book in your hands.

“Nearly gave me a heart attack, kid!”

You give him a sheepish smile and hide your face behind the book, staying true to the principle: out of mind, out of sight. You didn’t mean to stay long - you just wanted to finish the chapter. But it ended in a cliffhanger so you had to at least begin the next chapter and the vicious cycle went on.

It doesn’t take him long to realise that you are, in fact, holding a book. And he can’t hide his grin when he figures you must have lost track of time because of it.

“Didn’t take you for a reader, kid!”, he raises an eyebrow as he joins you on the couch, his eyes drifting to the cover. “And certainly did not know you read classics!”

“Always full of surprises, Captain!”, you smile at him as you look around, searching for something. A triumphant smile graces your lips when you find the piece of crumpled paper, and you proceed to put it on the page you remained at, before closing the book.

Definitely asks you about the book you’re reading and what else you’ve read, proceeding to compare your literary preferences

He may not read as much as he did when he was younger, but he can and will boast with the filled bookshelves he has at home

Encourages your reading habits when you are at the base and brings you reading snacks when you decide to spend your evenings in the base’s lounging room, curled up with whatever book you’re reading at the moment

Might sometimes join you with a book of his own. Nobody dares to say anything about the two operators who occasionally spend their lunch break with their noses stuck in a book.

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley

Never been much of a reader as he simply did not have the time, or the available resources

So at first, he does not understand why you are sobbing by yourself in the kitchen, frantically highlighting something with a neon marker

Who did that to you? Did he need to hunt down someone?

It was when he got closer that he realised you were actually reading something and the content must have made you upset

No problem, he’ll track the writer down and-

"Oh, Ghost, didn’t see you there!", you looked up at him, a shy smile on your face.

He is at a loss for words and ends up nodding towards the open book: “Is it any good?”

“Well, I think it would be an insult to say Shakespeare is ‘just good’, don’t you think?”

All he’s thinking of are those literature classes he should have paid more attention to.

He quickly steers the conversation in another direction, asking you about training and whatnot. Something blooms in his chest when he sees you setting the book away in an instant, a warm smile gracing your features as you turn your attention towards him.

He spends the following evening researching Shakespeare’s works as much as he can. He’d caught a glimpse of the book you’d been reading, Hamlet, and he ends up ordering an annotated copy.

It takes him an entire week to get through it, but the look on your face when he asks you about the book is priceless.

You spend the entire afternoon talking about it (you talk, he mostly listens), and he was surprised he didn’t notice your reading habits earlier. When you talked about books, you could light up the room with your enthusiasm and passion.

Is the kind of man who would build you a bookshelf from scratch

“Your books wouldn’t fit in a standard bookshelf anyway. And I can paint the wood to match the tone of your walls.”

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish

The type of man that says he’ll wait for the movie to come out

And if there is a book adaptation, he'll definitely make you watch it with him to prove his point

You spend the next hours pointing out why the book was better than the movie, while he tries to convince you otherwise

Constantly teases you about your reading habits, but secretly, he loves to watch you read. The array of emotional states you seem to go through when reading fascinates him.

"Maybe we should start calling you Belle from now on, bonnie. You know, the Belle from Beauty and the Beast - the one who's always with her nose stuck in a book?"

One day a recruit decides to prank you and hides your current read in the men's showers.

Soap takes note of your distracted state, but doesn't push it. He knows you'll come to him when it feels right.

Until he stumbles upon what was left of your book when preparing to take a shower. He recognizes it only by the vibrant colour of the cover as the pages are wrinkled and illegible, due to the water exposure.

It does not take him long to find the culprit. He was too busy boasting about his "achievement" to his team-mates, in the locker room.

Soap makes sure he regrets his actions by assigning him to latrine duty for the following month.

He also makes it his personal mission to buy you another copy of the book. The only problem is that he does not remember the title. Or the author. Or the plot.

"It has this orange cover, with two people on it! And there's white text on it too!"

Safe to say, the librarian is unimpressed by his comprehensive description.

So he has to spend an entire night scrolling through an online library page to find it.

But it's all worth it in the end. He'll never forget the shocked expression on your face when he handed you the hastily wrapped book. Or the wide smile that spreads across your face, followed by a tight and warm hug.

He might buy you more books in the future, just to have you grin at him like that.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Like Ghost, he didn't particularly care for reading. It was not that he didn't like it, he just had other priorities

He wasn't even aware of your reading habits until you were both stuck in a safe house, waiting to be evacuated.

You were leaning against the wall, next to him, when you pulled a book out of your pocket.

He had to do a double take- why did you have a leatherbound book in your pocket? Were you carrying it throughout the entire mission? What if you got shot - was the leather thick enough to stop the bullet if it got past your tac vest?

"Gaz, you're staring."

"Just took me by surprise, love."

You playfully rolled your eyes at the endearment, your hand leafing through the pages.

He knew you could feel him watching you, but he couldn't help himself. He felt like he just unlocked a new part of your personality.

"Is it any good?"

"Do you want to read it?"

"I wouldn't mind you reading to me..."

Once again, you rolled your eyes in fake annoyance but complied with his request and went back to the beginning of the chapter.

The story was quite gripping, something about a rich bachelor who must be in search of a wife. Kyle tried to focus on the story, but he was more intent on enjoying your calm and soothing voice.

He unintentionally fell asleep and you did not realise until you felt the weight of his body leaning against your shoulder.

As retaliation, you forced him to join you on a trip to the library. He did not bother to hide the fact that he did not see it as a punishment, not when he knew it would make you happy.

He let you drag across the entire fiction section and patiently listened to you describing all the books you've read. He also took a lot of mental notes on the books you intended to read in the future- if only the covers did not look so similar!

Eventually discovers he's more of an audiobook person.

So he would listen to the novel you were currently reading, excited to meet with you at the end of the day and discuss it with you.

2K notes · View notes

charmandabear · 4 months

Text

Office Hours

Summary:

Your colleague Dr. Ancunin is a smug condescending bastard and you can't stand him. But you also can't get him out of your head.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.2k Tags/Warnings: unprotected p in v sex, creampie, no breeding kink, masturbation, vaginal fingering, vampire bites, modern au, college/university au, urban fantasy, enemies to lovers, like the briefest mention of suicide while talking about Hamlet

This would not exist without @zipzoomzaria's gorgeous glasses screenshots because PROFESSOR, PLS. Go follow her bc her edits are out of this world. The masturbation scene is also heavily inspired by @astarionfreak's "Are You Satisfied, Darling?" If you haven't read it what are you doing???

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

There’s something about him that rubs you the wrong way. It could be his arrogance, or the condescending way he peers over his glasses at you and your other colleagues. It might be the overpriced cashmere turtlenecks that hug his figure perfectly or the stupid silver earrings adorning his stupid elf ears. But every time he opens his pretty little mouth you feel a snarl growing deep in your throat.

This is the first university you’ve worked at where the theatre and English departments shared an office. Theatre and music, sure, even theatre and dance. But theatre and English? It feels insulting, honestly. English PhDs are some of the snobbiest people you’ve ever met, and they always speak to you like a child. Is it because they’re unimpressed by your MFA, like it made you less deserving of your position? Who knows. But Astarion Ancunin is no different.

“Grace, would you mind making twelve copies of pages 219-254 when you get a chance?” You hand the administrative assistant the heavy book. “You can leave them in my mailbox, I’ll pick them up later.” Grace opens the book to the instructed page.

“Oh, Much Ado About Nothing! I love that one!” she squeals with delight. “That Beatrice and Benedick,” she sighs, stroking the Complete Works lovingly. You smile at her cordially.

“They’re great, they’re basically the non-problematic version of Kate and Petruchio,” you respond in agreement.

“How tragic that Taming’s writing is better.”

You whirl around to see Ancunin walking in looking at something on his phone. He doesn’t even look up as he inserts himself into your conversation. You glare at his interruption. He looks up at Grace, bypassing you completely.

“Good morning, Grace darling, how are you today?” He sweeps over to her and takes her hand in his, planting a kiss on her knuckles. Gods he’s fucking insufferable. Not to mention unprofessional. Grace, however, blushes and giggles like a schoolgirl.

“I’m doing well, Dr. Ancunin, and yourself?” The tiefling’s voice jumps up about three pitches and her tail starts swishing excitedly.

“Leagues better now that I’ve been blessed with your presence,” he coos at her, voice positively saccharine. It takes every ounce of your patience to keep from rolling your eyes. He casts his gaze to you, and even you need to turn away from those piercing red eyes.

“Good morning, professor. Starting Much Ado with your students, I take it?” he asks with a light smile that makes you bristle.

“Yes, it’s a great way for them to practice switching between verse and prose,” you respond coolly, more than a little defensive.

“Of course, one of his best.” He glances down at the volume still in Grace’s hands and his eyebrows raise, peering over the top of his round glasses. “Going with the Bevington, hmm? Interesting. I’m more of a Norton man, myself.” He runs a slender finger along the binding as you grit your teeth. Is he really patronizing you over your choice of edition of Shakespeare’s Complete Works? Of course, he’s an English scholar.

“The Norton is a great tool dramaturgically, but the Bevington is a much better resource for actors, so, yes.” Your voice is steady but there’s an undeniable venom in it. Can he tell how much he’s bothering you? Probably, he’s almost certainly getting enjoyment out of riling you up. His little smirk would seem to suggest it, at least.

“Well certainly, and who knows acting resources better than our resident classical acting expert?” he intones, voice still dripping with honey. You narrow your eyes at him, unsure if he’s taking another jab at your degree.

“Well, as much as I enjoy standing around and debating the merit of various editions of the Complete Works, I’m about to be late for a meeting. Grace, thank you so much, I’ll be back later to pick up those copies. Dr. Ancunin,” you turn to his smug face and he looks back at you innocently. “A pleasure, as always.” You grab your papers and leave the office, feeling the heat of his gaze boring into the back of your head as you leave.

***

“Yes, Thaniel, come on in, have a seat,” you call out to the freshman loitering in the hallway outside your office. He comes in and drops his overfull backpack next to the teal club chair across from your desk. You close your laptop and smile at him warmly.

“So, Hamlet, that’s ambitious! I think it’s a good choice for you, but it’ll be a lot of work,” you say, glancing at your own copy of the monologue.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” Thaniel says nervously. “I’m fine with the scansion and stuff, that I get, but I still don’t get the actual words. And I know you said how important that is.”

“For sure, I can guarantee all of the bad Shakespeare you’ve seen has been because the actors had no idea what they were saying. Have you used the Lexicon?” Thaniel looks off to the side, embarrassed.

“No, I don’t really get how that works either,” he says, an air of chagrin creeping into his voice.

“No worries, it takes practice. Here, we’ll do a few lines together. So first off, to be or not to be, that’s fairly obvious, right?”

“Yeah, he’s talking about suicide, right?”

“Sure, but what is he actually saying about it? To take arms against a sea of troubles/And by opposing, end them. What’s ‘them’ referring to?”

“The sea of troubles?”

“Right, the aforementioned slings and arrows. So even though you might know what those words mean individually, look them up in the Lexicon to see if they have a different context here. But you’re right, he’s trying to figure out if it’s better to suffer through the shittiness of existence or to take your fate into your own hands and, well, end them.” You highlight the line and lean over your desk to show Thaniel. A voice pipes up from the doorway.

“That’s not exactly what he’s saying, you know.”

The paper crumples in your hand slightly as your fist instinctively tightens. You plaster a strained smile on your face and look up at him.

“Dr. Ancunin, thank you for gracing us with your presence. Care to elaborate?”

He’s leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, face in shadows. Your office is unusually dark because of the storm outside, and so the bright fluorescents in the hallway give him an almost ethereal halo effect

“It’s a common misconception that Hamlet is contemplating suicide here. Life and death, sure, but ‘to take arms’ isn’t metaphorical, it’s literal. He’s contemplating dying as a result of killing Claudius, not taking his own life,” he says, almost sounding bored. You stand abruptly, your office chair skidding backwards.

“How can that possibly be true? He says ‘to take arms against a sea of troubles.’ He’s using the active voice, deciding whether or not to continue his life or end it. To be or not to be. It’s the first line in the monologue. He’s not talking about the consequences of killing Claudius.” You try to keep your voice from shaking. You know that you don't sound nearly as eloquent as him, and it’s pissing you off. He shrugs nonchalantly.

“You’re oversimplifying it, it’s exceedingly more complicated than that. The whole soliloquy is filled with war imagery. He’s at war with himself, the part of him that wants to kill Claudius and the part of him that is afraid to die.” He pushes himself off the door frame and steps back into the hallway. “But apologies, please don’t let me interrupt your instruction.” And like that he was off, leaving you to stew in silence. Thaniel looks up at you and looks back at the doorway where he stood.

“Should I…” he starts, but you cut him off with a wave of your hand.

“Dr. Ancunin comes at this from a very different angle as an English academic. He’s more interested in the words on the page, rather than how they translate to the stage. But,” you sigh, loathe to give him any credit, “it’s a valid interpretation. We can go down that route, if you want, or we can look at it through this lens.” Thaniel chews his lip while he considers his options.

“I think what you said makes more sense, the suicide bit,” he finally decides. You nod and pull out your copies of the Shakespeare Lexicon.

“Great, let’s go over how to use the Lexicon again,” you say as you flip through the book, looking for the entry for ‘slings.’

***

You drop off your bag and toss your keys into a bowl on the counter. Fucking exhausting day. You unzip your boots and kick them vaguely in the direction of the shoe rack, stretching and curling your toes for relief. You hang up your wet coat and shake rain from your hair. Your eyes dart between the refrigerator, wherein resides a bottle of white wine, and the bathroom door, contemplating how good a hot bath would feel. Both? Both is good.

You pour yourself a generous glass of Riesling and strip your clothes on your way to the bathroom. One of the perks of living alone. Sitting naked on the edge of the tub, you sip your wine as the bath fills.

Fucking Ancunin.

You’re a little shocked at how much he got under your skin today. Normally you don’t think twice about him, excepting the few times you have the misfortune of passing him in the hallway. But today the fates decided to throw you together and your schedules aligned. Well, in your defense, you didn’t seek him out that second time, he was the one who decided to crash your office hours.

You don’t even like Hamlet that much. You certainly don’t care about alternative interpretations of “To be or not to be.” But you’re mostly annoyed because he had a fair point. His read makes Hamlet a more interesting character rather than a cowardly incel romanticizing suicide.

You slide into the bath, hissing slightly as the hot water flows over your chilled skin. Without prompting, Ancunin worms his way back into your thoughts. Hmmph. You take a gulp of wine to try to wash away the taste of the unpleasant image.

Well… not entirely unpleasant. He’s a good looking man, you’d be a fool to deny it. But gods he’s so smug. And interrupting your meeting with Thaniel was wildly inappropriate. Leaning your head against the edge of the tub, you try to focus your thoughts elsewhere. You’re not about to let him interrupt you again, and when he’s not even present, no less.

But there he is, in your mind, crimson eyes looking over the top of those metal frame glasses that you’re, like, 99% sure he doesn’t actually need to see. You take another swig of wine to drown his stupid face. With his stupid cheekbones. And his dumb fucking earrings that you want to bite.

Nine hells, what is happening? You’ve been drinking your wine quickly and aren’t thinking straight. You grab your phone and open Spotify, letting your daily mix play through the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

Now Playing: Hatefuck by The Bravery.

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

By Mystra’s fucking grace, seriously? You growl at the growing heat between your legs. Between putting off dinner and chugging your wine, your head is swimming. You might be better off getting it out of your system.

The wine glass hits the tub edge with a clank as you angrily put it down and sink into the water up to your chin. You are satiating a purely physical need, nothing else.

You still shiver as you slip your hand between your legs, lightly running your finger up your slit. You can see his face, looking down on you through those glasses - those infuriating glasses - and your lips flutter. What does he look like under those sweaters? He’s so thin, but his clothes fit incredibly well. It’s not hard to imagine a sculpted body beneath. You spread your legs further and let the warm water tickle your folds.

His silvery curls would look so good between your legs, slender fingers wrapped around your thighs while he laps you up. At least then he’d shut up. A gentle moan escapes your lips as you run your finger along your inner lips, pretending it’s him. You could grab hold of those perfect locks, yanking on them to control where he can go, fucking his face.

You move your other hand up to your breast and start teasing your nipple, feeling his lips around it. You give it a little tug and groan, just like if he nipped at it.

You imagine sitting on his pretty face, pointed ears flushed and hair a mess. Your hips buck into your hand as they might on top of him and your toes curl. You make gentle circles around your clit, thinking of all the other uses for his silver tongue. You whine and squirm at the sensations of heat radiating through your body. You slip a finger inside and hiss as you can see his pale digits entering you in your mind’s eye. You curl it upwards and gasp, his imaginary eyes looking up at you through those long lashes and a smirk playing across his imaginary lips.

“Are you ready for more of me, darling?” You can hear him murmur into your ear.

“Yes, gods yes,” you reply breathlessly into the cold bathroom air. You slide another finger in and feel that delicious stretch. The ghost of him moans, coming undone at the sight of you. You could leave him speechless, for once.

You reach over the edge of the tub and grab the box of waterproof toys. You frantically sift through your collection of dildos, trying to find the right one. Here. It’s long and svelte like the rest of him, but bright shimmery purple. You suction it to the bottom of the tub and hover above it on your knees. It sways lightly in the water, tip of it teasing your pussy just like you’d love to do to him.

Gods, to see him beg for your cunt. To see him reduced to a babbling mess, pleading to let him inside you. Your breath quickens at the mental image of him pulling on his own hair waiting for you to satisfy him. You sink down onto the dildo and your groan of pleasure mirrors what you’d like to hear from him.

You start sliding yourself on the purple dick, feeling its ridges glide against the walls of your cunt as you continue to finger your clit. You imagine your hand splayed across his chest, your black nails standing in contrast against his pale skin. You claw at the bottom of the tub as you increase your pace, desperate to see the pink raised skin that your nails leave behind. The fingers on your clit speed up as well, and you can feel yourself getting close.

“Oh gods, Astarion, don’t stop,” the words tumble from your mouth unbidden. You will absolutely hate yourself for that later, but right now all that matters is your ecstasy. You bounce atop the dildo, disregarding the water that splashes over the side of the tub as you chase your finish. Your moans increase in pitch and fervor as the various images of him in all sorts of positions flash through your mind. Between your thighs, sitting on his face, riding his dick, even fucking pegging him from behind because why the hell not?

“Astarion!” You cry out his name as you crash over the edge, legs shaking and pussy pulsing. Your orgasm reverberates throughout your whole body as you ride it out. Eventually, your movement slows and the water gently sways around you. You look down at your hand, milky juices swirling in the now tepid tub water.

Shit.

***

The next day at work, you avoid him like the plague. You keep your office door closed, usually an unthinkable act but entirely necessary right now. You double check the hallway before leaving to go teach, and then after class you immediately duck back into your office and close the door again. You even avoid the main office for fear of running into him there.

You can’t look at his face right now. You can’t possibly look him in the eye.

When 5:00 rolls around, you glance out into the hallway. Most of the other professors are leaving. To play it safe, you decide to work until 6 so that you can be sure that he’s gone when you leave. You absentmindedly grade performance responses. After you’ve read one paragraph about Miss Julie maybe a half dozen times, you realize that it’s probably time to go.

You slowly open the door and glance out into the hallway. You can’t tell from this angle if his door is open or not. You grab your bag and coat, take a deep breath, and make a beeline for the stairs. As you approach his office you realize it’s open.

Fuck.

It’s fine. You’ll just walk past it and get to the parking lot and then you won’t need to worry about it. He might not even be in there. Or if he is, he probably has his head down and won’t notice you walk by. It’s fine. You’ve got this.

“Oh, professor, a word?” His voice floats into the hallway right as you’re passing his door. Are you fucking kidding? You turn to see him sitting at his desk, head down, writing something. He doesn’t even look up at you. Prick.

“Yes?” you ask, not budging from your spot in the hall. He glances up at you over his glasses. Those fucking glasses. You want to rip them off his face and throw them out the window.

“Do you have a moment? I think we need to talk.” His voice is low and cool. Does he fucking know? There’s no way he can know.

Right?

You tentatively take a step into his office. It’s surprisingly cluttered for a man who always looks so put together, but it’s still warm and inviting. You can barely see the walls for being covered corner to corner in bookshelves full to bursting. He’s got a big mahogany desk in the middle of the room - significantly nicer than the university-issued one. It’s covered in stacks of papers, books, weird little knick knacks; it’s amazing how he’s able to get anything done on it. There are two chairs facing his desk, much like yours, but a rich plush velvet instead of a scratchy cotton weave. He’s got a scent diffuser somewhere, giving the room an aroma like an earthy spiced tea.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the cushy red chairs across from him. You stand there, clutching your bag, staring at him like a deer in the headlights. When he realizes you’re not going to sit, he gets up and crosses over to the door.

“Do you mind if I close this? It’s… a bit embarrassing,” he asks with a crooked smile. You can feel the heat in your cheeks rising. Your mouth goes dry and you try to swallow the lump forming in your throat.

There’s no way he knows.

Right?

But something compels you to nod, so he closes the door and walks back to his desk, but rather than sitting behind it, he leans back casually on the front of it. He’s taken off the blazer he usually wears and is down to just the turtleneck, sleeves pushed up just below his elbows. He crosses his arms in front of his chest as you stare, waiting.

“I wanted to… apologize. For yesterday.”

You blink at him, the conversation not going in the direction you expected. You had been so focused on yourself, that it took you a moment to realize what he was referring to.

“It was inappropriate to barge in on your meeting with your student. You were mid-instruction, and I needn’t have inserted myself into your conversation.” He leaned back on his hands, stretching out his lean figure to impossible proportions. The grip on your bag slackened and you couldn’t help but drag your gaze over the length of his body. He looks at you quizzically.

“I get the sense that you don’t very much like me,” he muses.

Now it’s his turn to give you the once-over, and you feel practically naked before him the way he looks at you. “Then again,” he adds, and pushes himself off his desk. He slowly advances toward you, though whether like someone approaching a vicious beast or a predator stalking its prey, it’s unclear. You retreat while holding his gaze until your back is flush against the door.

No escape now.

He gets precariously close to you and takes an unsettling whiff. When he speaks again, his voice is a husky growl.

“I think it’s entirely possible you like me… quite a bit.” He’s got at least a half foot on you, and he looks down on you with heavy-lidded eyes. The heat in your face has fully reached the tips of your ears now, and your breath comes out ragged.

“I’m sure I-” you start, but it comes out thick and raspy. You clear your throat and try again. “I’m sure I don't know what you mean,” you finally manage with all of the composure you can muster. He cocks an eyebrow at you, then slowly takes off those infuriating glasses.

“No? Then perhaps I’m mistaken, and your heart rate hasn’t increased by approximately 20 beats per second in the past few minutes.” His eyes continue boring into you. “And maybe that smell between your legs is completely unrelated.”

An undignified splutter comes out of you as you press your thighs closer together. He takes a half step back to let you respond.

“If I am indeed mistaken, then I’ve said my peace and you’re free to go.” The seductive honey is gone from his voice, and in its place is a politely professional tone. You fully feel that he’s giving you an out, that you can both laugh on this as an embarrassing moment and neither will bring it up ever again.

But on the other hand…

“You’re not mistaken,” you choke out in a whisper. The lazy smile is back and he lifts your chin with his index finger.

“What was that? Speak up.” His command weakens your knees and you wither under his gaze.

“You’re not wrong,” you say more boldly, trying to meet his energy. His smile broadens, and for the first time you notice two pointy fangs slip out beneath his upper lip.

Fucking

vampire??

That explains how he could track your heartbeat, and even more his ridiculously keen sense of smell. Doesn’t make it any less humiliating.

“No, I don’t suppose I am,” he snarls and suddenly he’s kissing you roughly, hands twisting in your hair and one knee sliding up between your legs. He pushes you against the door and lifts you off your feet slightly. You’re desperate just to keep up as he devours you, hands weakly grasping at his hips, shoulders, neck. But he’s fully in control of the kiss, and after a moment you let him take you.

He breaks the kiss but doesn’t pull away, and you’re both breathing heavily, air cycling between your lungs. Your head feels full of a thick fog and you can’t fully see straight. His hands are still in your hair, tight but not pulling - yet. You get the sense that might not last long.

He drops to his knees and you nearly double over from the sudden lack of support. He runs his nose and lips across the hem of your black denim skirt, inhaling again. Your fingers lace into his hair, but not even remotely in the dominant way from your fantasy. At this point you’re just trying not to collapse.

He looks up at you, flashing another fang-bearing grin. His hand slips up your skirt and his thumb runs across your pussy, barricaded by your sheer tights and panties.

“Darling, you’re positively soaked,” he hums contentedly. “You’d have a hard time hiding this from anyone.” You bite your lower lip, trying to keep the needy whines at bay. But when he fiercely rips the crotch of your tights and presses the flat of his tongue against the drenched gusset, you can’t stop the cry from escaping your throat. He sucks lasciviously, the debauched slurping noise ringing in your ears. Your knees buckle and he grabs hold of your hips, hiking your skirt up to your waist to get better access to your dripping cunt.

He stands and kisses you again, the taste of you lingering on

his lips. He grabs your ass and digs his fingers into your flesh, spreading them until you gasp into his kiss. In one fluid motion he sweeps up your legs and wraps them around his waist, carrying you over to that incredible mahogany desk.

He plops you down on the hardwood and you hear books and papers tumbling onto the floor behind you. He presses his bulge into your mound, this time the sound of both of your moans mingling pleasingly. He tears at your chiffon button down, trailing hungry kisses down your chest as you throw your head back in pleasure. He makes quick work of fully removing your top, though you’re certain he sacrificed some buttons in the process. You hardly care as you paw wantonly at the back of his neck, desperate for him to get his lips onto every single inch of you. He pulls the lace cup of your bra down with his teeth and starts sucking on your nipple, pressing his hand into the small of your back. You arch into him, his hands working you like a soft clay.

So much for the pleading mess that you pictured last night. Instead, you’re the one who's been reduced to shambles, begging for satisfaction.

“Puh-please,” you stutter, and those devilish eyes lock onto yours again. He snakes his way back up your chest and bites your lower lip.

“Puh-please what?” he mocks your stammering, but makes up for it when he rolls his hips forward, dragging that delicious hardness against you. You squirm, trying to pull him closer but he’s got your arms locked in his grip. His lips leave yours and ghost over the flesh of your neck. He very gently scrapes his fangs across your jugular, eliciting a ghoulish moan from you in return. By all the gods, you hadn’t even considered that as a part of it. His movement made it clear that he won’t bite unless you want him to.

But holy hells do you want him to.

“Gods Astarion,” you gasp, and you swear you can feel his cock twitch at the sound of his own name. “Fuck me then bite me, or the other way around I don’t care, but please get in me!” The string of words almost sounds foreign to your own ears, but you’re well beyond the point of trying to sound clever. In an instant, he’s undone his belt buckle and his erection springs forth, bouncing and already dripping precum. He roughly shoves your panties to the side and sinks his cock and teeth into you simultaneously, drawing out your cry of both pain and pleasure. You wrap your legs and arms around him, trying to pull him in deeper. You can feel his mouth filling up with your hot blood just as your cunt fills up with his dick.

You’re panting as you grow more lightheaded, clinging to his neck. Unthinkingly, your fingers stroke his ears, playing with those tiny silver hoops. He lurches and pulls away from your neck, looking absolutely feral with your blood dripping down his chin, which only sets you off more. You angle your hips toward him, trying to get him to start thrusting into you. He pushes your back down onto the desk and hooks his elbows beneath your knee high boots. Then he starts pounding into you properly, and you feel like you’re close to losing it. You grab onto the edge of the desk as he revs up his pace, his cock stretching you out as he keeps your legs close to your ears. You can feel the heat mounting in your core and you know it won’t be long before you come. But at this point you’re just trying to hold on for dear life.

“Fuck, gods, Astarion, I’m-” You finish before your sentence does. He doesn’t relent as the orgasm wracks your body, if anything, he fucks you harder. Just as you’ve barely come down off your climax, he pulls out and yanks you off the desk, spins you around and pushes your face down into the smooth mahogany, warmed from where you had just been. He enters you again, this time from behind, and already you’re working your way up to a second one. Your bare tits squish against the polished surface and he grabs your hair, pulling your head up and arching your back into him.

For the first time you notice the mirror on the opposite wall across from his desk. But rather than both of you, you only see yourself, disheveled and well-fucked, lips swollen from his abuse. Your hair is pulled up by an invisible force behind you. Another unexpected aspect of vampire fucking.

You desperately wish you could see his face because you can feel his thrusts getting more uneven and erratic. You try to turn to get a glimpse of him, but his grip on your hair remains tight. But even if you can’t see him, you can hear him, his grunts and the low string of incoherent swears pouring out of his mouth. The sound of him getting lost in you is enough, and your own moans start building and mixing with his, an utter symphony of epicurism.

His hips give a few more broken thrusts and you can feel his climax, setting off yours. The throbs of his cock match those wracking your cunt, and you hold onto the edge of the desk as the waves wash over you. Once they’ve come to an end he pulls out, and you can feel his semen dripping out of the sudden emptiness and running down your leg. You quietly say a thankful prayer for your IUD.

You’re both panting as he collapses onto your back, planting a half-hearted kiss on your spine. You weakly push yourself up off the desk and see the devastation of papers, smears and fluids. You turn yourself around and relish in his appearance. Your blood is splattered on his fine cream sweater, his usually perfectly coiffed curls damp and sticking to his forehead. You reach up and wipe the remainder of your blood off his chin. He smirks and kisses you, significantly more gently this time.

“That was good,” you murmur through steadying breaths, “but next time, keep the fucking glasses on.”

#astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate fanfiction #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate smut #fanfiction #smut #professor astarion #astarion x reader #astarion x you #office hours

521 notes · View notes

dreams-shape-the-world · 8 months

Text

I love Shakespeare, and I love Hamlet, compound that with the fact that they had Aziraphale and Crowley at the Globe Theater while they were playing Hamlet put me over the moon.

What I find most amusing, is that both Michael Sheen and David Tennant have both played the part of the Danish prince.

So we have our favorite angel and demon, meeting at the Globe because of their new "arrangement" to do miracles or temptations that are just plain and simple, a pain in the ass to do, but management wants them to do anyway.

They also discuss the fact that if either one of their sides knew about the "arrangement" it would be abysmal for them. We know what eventually happens to Crowley later on in the future, when he saves Elspeth from attempting to take her life.

I think the one thing that is key with this part of their history, is how much concern Aziraphale has started to show for Crowley. Even though he denies ever knowing Crowley, he is nonetheless worried about his wellbeing. These are the early stages of their relationship, with Aziraphale voicing his distress at the possibility of Crowley being destroyed if caught by his superiors.

During their conversation, Hamlet is playing on stage, and Aziraphale loves this play. Unfortunately, it's not that popular and it concerns him very much. They then have their coin toss to see who get to do the good and bad thing in Edinburgh.

Poor Aziraphale loses that toss and get stuck having to go there. At this point, Aziphale hears Shakespeare bemoan the fact that no likes Hamlet. This is where Aziraphale gives Crowley the, what has been called, his "heart eyes" looks. I call it the, "oh please my dear, can you do this for me?" look and Crowley just can't say no to him.

It doesn't even take him a second to agree to his angel's request, so much for putting up a fight. He never has a chance, Crowley already has it bad and doesn't even know it.

I will say, that to me, Crowley fell in love first with Aziraphale. The debate is, when, at Eden or during Job minisode? We can debate that forever, but in the end, he is already in love.

I adore how happy it makes Aziraphale, when his demon capitulates to his wishes. Look at him, he is beaming with happiness, how can anyone not love him.

Crowley makes it like, yea, whatever, but you can't tell me he wasn't smiling as he walked away, knowing that he made his angel happy.

Anyway, I love this whole minisode as I said earlier. It is adorable in their interactions over one of my favorite plays. Plus, Elizabethan Crowley is just gorgeous!

791 notes · View notes

tismrot · 7 months

Text

GOOD OMENS in CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER (a fanfic helper)

I tried to find this online, but I only found bits and pieces here and there. This should be a very good tool when writing fanfics, or just for understanding the narrative - so, here's my best attempt at a timeline for the canonized events in the show. Let me know if I missed any, or if something is wrong! CHRONOLOGY of GOOD OMENS 4004 BC: Before the Beginning (Sunday, October 21st, Nowhere, no name for Crowley) Aziraphale meets Crowley as an angel in Heaven pre-Beginning and Crowley makes a star factory. 4004 BC: The Eden Wall (Rather more than 7 days later, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziriaphale on the Eden wall and they talk about right and wrong. Aziraphale gave his sword to Adam and lies to God about it. Eve looks about 6 months pregnant. 3004 BC: Noah’s Ark (Ancient Mesopotamia, Crawley) Crowley finds Aziraphale in front of the Ark and they talk about how God will drown kids. 2500 BC: A Companion to Owls (Land of Uz, Crawley) Crowley and Aziraphale work together to save Job's kids from God. 1353 - 1336 BC: Nefertiti's reign as queen, during which, at some point, Aziraphale did a magic trick for her. (Thebes/Luxor, ancient Egypt, Crawley) (unfilmed, just mentioned) We know he fooled her with a "lone caraway seed and three cowry shells" 33 AD: Crucifixion of Jesus (Golgotha, Palestine, name change to Crowley) Crowley (canonically confirmed female form) tells Aziraphale she showed Jesus the world. 41 AD: Oysters in Rome (41 AD) Aziraphale playfully tempts Crowley to go eat oysters with him at Petronus' restaurant. If this isn't innuendo, I don't know what is. 537 AD: Medieval England/King Arthur (Kingdom of West Essex) Aziraphale as a knight of the Round Table meets the Black Knight (Crowley) who suggests the Arrangement for the first time. Aziraphale says no. 1020: The Arrangement is agreed to (unfilmed, just mentioned in the book or by Neil) I can't find the exact date - tell me if this is wrong? 1040 - 1601: Crowley and Aziraphale act on their arrangement "dozens of times", as mentioned in the Globe Theatre. As far as I've understood this arrangement (correct me if I'm wrong) it means that whenever they receive orders from Heaven or Hell, they tell the other, compare notes, and if it takes place in the same area, they agree that just one of them has to go do both tasks. Either that, or both tell their respective bosses that the task has been done, because they would have cancelled each other out either way. Letters would probably be too risky communication other than "Let's meet up at....", so I assume they have seen a lot of each other during this time. 1500s: Something related to the Catholic Church and the Papacy (Rome?). (Unfilmed idea) My theory: Raphael/Crowley (Raffaello Sanzio da Urbino) works as painter in Rome from 1508 until his "death" in 1520. He was invited to Rome by Pope Julius II and was immediately commissioned to work on a series of frescoes for the Pope's private library in the Vatican Palace. Crowley can't enter consecrated spaces. Hilarity ensues. This would explain his conversation about helicopters (in the book) with Leonardo da Vinci. 1601: Hamlet (Globe Theatre, London) Aziraphale and Crowley meet inconspicuously as Shakespeare struggles with Hamlet (both actor and play), and Aziraphale agrees to do both his and Crowley's assignments in Edinburgh. 1650: Aziraphale does his first apology dance (unknown) Nothing more is known about this event. 1655: Agnes Nutter's book is published, and doesn't sell a single copy. 1656: Agnes Nutter is burned (Lancashire, England, 1656) After writing the Nice and Accurate Prophecies, she is burned by Pulsifer's ancestor. 1793: French Revolution (The Bastille, Paris) Aziraphale puts himself in harm's way by dressing like a nobleman while looking for crepes in revolutionary Paris, just so that Crowley will save him. 1800s: Aziraphale opens his bookshop. (Soho, London) I can't figure out when, it just says 19th century online. Crowley asks if Aziraphale wasn't supposed to open a bookshop when he saves him in the Bastille.

1827: The Resurrectionist (Edinburgh, October) Aziraphale and Crowley discuss morality, meet Elspeth and Wee Morag - and the body snatching doctor.

1827 - ????: Crowley sleeps or is in Hell We don't actually know long or exactly when, but in the book it's mentioned he only got up to go to the toilet once. Why?

1862: St. James’s Park, London Crowley is paranoid, Aziraphale won't give him holy water. 1862 - ????: Wild West meetup (Unfilmed idea) Neil Gaiman just had the idea, it wasn't filmed.

1928: Crowley buys the Bentley And he keeps it in tip-top shape until the Not-Apocalypse. 1933: Aziraphale gets his driving license (unknown location)

1941: WW2 Blitz (London) Church bombing, magic show, photo taken, shades of dark and light grey.

1967: Aziraphale gives Crowley holy water (Soho, London) ...And says Crowley goes too fast for him. He does it because Crowley is about to orchestrate the robbery of a church. One of the robbers is Witchfinder Sergeant Shadwell, who we meet later. He offers his 'army' to Crowley.

1980s: Crowley designs the M25 (Hell) No other demons understand the whole thing about constant, low-level, effortless evil.

2007: Three children are born in a hospital in Tadfield The old switch-a-roo.

2007 - later that night: Godfather meetup (Soho, ca 2009) They're drunk, talking about whale brains and agreeing to raise Warlock as nanny and gardener.

2012 - 2018: Raising Warlock (Winfield House, England) He's way too normal! 2018: Not-Apocalypse (Saturday, August 11th, Tadfield Airbase) Do I need to explain this? 2019 - 2023: Beelzebub and Gabriel start meeting each other. We see them meet in an American bar, a Russian café and in the Resurrectionist in Edinburgh. 2020: Lockdown (London) Aziraphale goes on about cake, Crowley wants to come by and watch him eat. Aziraphale chickens out.

2023: Jimbriel (Soho, London) A naked archangel with amnesia shows up on Aziraphale's doorstep. --- UPDATED AND IMPROVED

508 notes · View notes

spacecowboyhotch · 3 months

Text

In Plain Sight: Family Dinner

summary: nathan meets your sisters— alternatively, you get grilled by your family (nathan joins in of course).

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: this entire series is 18+, SIBLINGSSSSSS, talks of dating, bi!reader, teasing, food mention, mentions of caretaking/sick parent, kissing, nathan is so in love (so is reader)

wc: 1,465

an: back at it with these two again. i adore them. i love them. this is lowkey chaos. and nathan sort of fits in perfectly with her family’s chaos which i was expecting to struggle with a bit. thank you to @juneknight for always being there to listen and brainstorm, you’re too good to me!

in plain sight masterlist | tiana | planted | little hamlet

3 months post To Atomize

“If neither of you are ready he doesn’t have to come. But, he’s very excited to meet you.”

Emma and Phillipa are sat on the couch as you stand— more like pace— in front of them. You shouldn’t be nervous, it’s not like this is the first time they’ve met someone you’ve been involved with. Nathan isn’t just somebody is he though? Asshole boss turned slightly less asshole boyfriend. The word feels weird in your mouth, not just because 6 months ago you were calling him Mr. Bateman, but because he seems like so much more than that.

All of his talk of being obsessed, about being consumed, well you feel the same way. You aren’t sure that the term boyfriend really compasses that. But, who would you be to shut that down— saying it doesn’t feel right, or strong enough— when Nathan had the most smug, giddy look on his face when he called you his girlfriend for the first time?

“Oh my god, don’t be a chicken, we’re ready,” Phillipa gripes, leaning back against the couch to more easily fish her phone out of her pocket.

“Hey, don’t call me a chicken.”

“You’ve been dating Mr. Bateman forever,” She says, scrolling on her phone. “It’s been on Twitter.”

“Its been 6 months. Call him Nathan, he's not some stuffy old man.” You say. Well— he’s not old at least. “And please don’t mention Twitter, I’m perceived enough these days.”

Emma pipes up finally, “Phil says that’s a hella long time.”

You narrow your eyes at the older girl who’s giving your younger sister a similar look. “Phil says hella, does she?”

“Emma you swore you wouldn’t tell!”

“I didn’t! I used it in a sentence!”

“Okay, okay— we don’t yell at each other.. You’re both sure?”

“Yes!” They say together with different levels of eagerness, though they’re both excited.

You regard them with wary eyes. Nathan’s excited. They’re excited. Your nerves are certainly there, but you are too.

“Alright but I need you both to be on your best behavior. Be the sweet girls I know you are. And no more cussing. Either of you.”

—

Nathan’s been uncharacteristically quiet but you know that he’s just gathering information, feeling things out. But, Phillipa takes that as nerves and being the rebellious teenager that she is, she wants to have some fun.

She mixes up the pasta in front of her, examines it as she nonchalantly asks, “Nathan, where do babies come from?”

Nathan bites back a nervous laugh. “Don’t they teach you that in sex ed? I mean scientifically speaking it’s a bore but—“

“Nathan,” You grit out in warning, your eyes meeting his.

He gets the message straight away, going in for a different method of attack. “I could make a baby with my bare hands. Program it to never cry or eat, to sleep its 16 hours.”

Emma perks up. “Like a babydoll? Mine is broken.”

“Emma, a new doll is on your Christmas list. It's not broken, you just want the new one,” Phillipa says, reaching for the red pepper flakes.

“I could build her one that's better than anything you could buy on the market. Those things crap out, they malfunction.”

Your brow furrows as you look over at Nathan, this is not where you expected this conversation to go, though you’re not ungrateful. “You’re going to build my sister a doll?”

“Oh, please? Please, please, Mr. Bateman!”

“I told you to call him Nathan, Em.”

Phillipa leans in, “Hey, what about me? Emma gets a doll what do I get.”

“Nathan isn't here to give you thinks, Phil, he was just here to meet you.”

“That depends on what you like Philippa. I can do anything,” Nathan proclaims, leaning back against his chair and crossing his arms.

“Nobody can do anything.”

“That was before you met me. Name it.”

“I’m gonna think of something super impossible.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong, Phil.”

Phil studies him for a moment, trying to decide if she’ll say what’s on her mind. “You’re cooler than anybody she’s ever dated.”

“Oh really?”

“Phil, please,” You plead, completely abandoning eating in turn for twirling your pasta anxiously.

Phillipa ignores completely ignores you, grinning at Nathan’s interest. “Yeah, the last guy she brought looked like Goofy and sounded like Mickey Mouse.”

“Mickey Mouse, huh? You into rats, sweetheart?”

“What about the lady with the curly hair? I liked her,” Emma says softly.

Nathan’s brows raise as he trains his gaze on you. “The lady?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers. Your sisters and Nathan grilling you— together. This was simultaneously the best and the worst idea. They had to meet of course, what with you being pretty sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Nathan. But did they have to gang up on you like a well choreographed dance? Especially on the first go of it.

“We were friends. How do you even remember her, Em, you were a toddler?” You look at her with eyes that say back off but she’s 7, in her own world, having a great time.

Nathan’s building her a babydoll for gods sakes.

Emma grins, “She always gave me candies.”

“Wait a fuc—“ He stops himself, mindful of your sisters, repeating with just as much shock as before, “a lady?”

“Friends,” You emphasis again.

“I literally caught you two kissing,” Phil says, rolling her eyes.

“Philippa—“

Nathan throws his head back, laughing loudly, “Not much of an explanation for that, is there honey?”

“It never went anywhere— not that I owe to any of you to explain,” You give all of them narrowed eyes, your face feeling hotter than the surface of the sun.

“They were all nice at least,” Philippa muses, twirling some pasta around her fork.

“Like I would bring home somebody that would be mean to either of you.”

“Phillipa says people say Nathan’s a jackass,” Emma announces before stuffing more garlic bread in her mouth.

You fix Phillipa with an icy look, and she quickly looks away, suddenly very interested in the basket of garlic bread in front of her. “When I told you to spend more time with your sister, that really did not include teaching her swear words.”

“I like swear words!” Emma protests.

Nathan leans in, smiling wide, eyes glittering mischievously, “Emma, so do I.”

You lean closer to Nathan, whispering, “Honey, you’re not helping.”

“Right. Lips zipping,” He whispers back, straightening up.

You turn back to your sisters. “Less swear words, more dinner. Or are you finished?”

“I’m finished. Can we have the brownies Phillipa made?”

“Of course, little one. Phillipa? Nathan?”

Phil just gives you a nod, while Nathan says, “All good, sweetheart.”

Dessert is much more mellow, and afterwards Nathan offers to do the dishes for you so that you can make sure your sisters get to bed alright. Once you’ve said goodnight to them, you return to your room. You find Nathan there, fingers tracing the trinkets and family heirlooms that sit on your desk.

You shut the door quietly behind you, “I told you they were…”

“Like you?” Nathan suggests, his mouth sitting in that smug grin.

You scoff. “Nosy. I’m not nosy.”

“You’re pretty fucking nosy.”

“Am not.”

“I didn’t say I disliked it about you honey, don’t get your panties in a twist,” He reaches for you, crowding you against the wall near your bed.

“My panties are untwisted, Nathan,” You say matter of factly, unimpressed with him.

He grins, pressing a kiss to your cheek, your jaw, your neck. “Can I take them off then?”

“My sisters are down the hall, so is my mom,” You whisper, a little breathless and Nathan takes note of that.

“I thought you liked covering my mouth?” He asks, pulling away from your neck to wag his eyebrows at you. You stare up at him, eyes alight, mouth flat. He wants to kiss you until his brain melts out of his ears but digresses. “Alright, alright. I’ll behave.”

“Thank you, Mr. Bateman,” You say, your voice a little exasperated though there’s a smile pulling at your lips. You detangle yourself from him, starting towards the door. “I’ll get you some towels to shower and check on my mom.”

“You’ll let me know if she’s up for company?” Nathan watches you deflate, sorry that he even asked. But, he’s eager to meet the woman who raised you. He wants to ask questions and know more about the both of you.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know,” You murmur.

“If not, I’ll just write her a note. You know I’m good for it,” He murmurs, nodding head towards the note he’d written you that sits on your nightstand. “Come back here. Please.”

When you cross the room to him, he pulls in close, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that makes you so dizzy you can’t remember that you were sad.

“What was that for?”

He raises a brow at you, “What, I can’t kiss my girlfriend whenever I want?”

“You and that word are really going strong?”

“You jealous?”

“Nathan, that would make a negative amount of sense, my love.”

He starts to kiss at your neck like before, using a little more teeth this time. “Oh that’s new. I like that. Say it again.”

“To the shower, Bateman.”

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho, @redcake333

#nathan bateman x reader #nathan bateman x f!reader #nathan bateman x fem!reader #nathan bateman #nathan bateman fanfiction #ex machina fanfiction #x reader #in plain sight #not sfw #arson writes

151 notes · View notes

octuscle · 2 months

Note

A weird change has been going on with all the guys at my office. Many of them are now acting “southern” wearing cowboy boots and hats and belt buckles and even talking in southern accents despite almost none of them being from the south. They also started driving giant trucks and even some of my more liberal co workers are now talking about conservative politics.

Could the chronivac be behind these changes?

You have the feeling that the young employees were the first to be affected. When you went home a few days ago, you heard a "Goodbye, Mister! Havuh nice eevnun!!" from Frederick's desk. Frederick is an intern. A promising Harvard student from the best family in Providence. You're actually on a first-name basis in the office. But you don't actually wear a cowboy hat either…

The next person to be hit is Peter from the coffee shop downstairs in the office building. Peter is actually a talented barista and, like all people in the catering industry, is actually a disabled actor. You once saw him as Hamlet in an off-Broadway production. He wasn't any worse. "Hello Mr. Goldmann, sir! Uh hot blaak filter coffee as usual?" You look at him in amazement. "Peter? Is that you? I always have a cappuccino. Have you forgotten?" "Kaynt bay, mister! Way don't sayul thet kinduh stuff. An by thuh way, mah name iz Pete."

Fucking hell, Pete is really smoking hot. Okay, the conversation between you is getting more monosyllabic by the day. You'll get used to the black coffee. Not to his Trump praise.

Over the next few days, more and more of these cowboys and rednecks will come your way. There is talk in the news of a hacker attack on TikTok accounts and on Chronivac by the Russians. Allegedly, it is no longer the will of the voters but the voters themselves who are being manipulated. Thank God you don't use TikTok.

A few days later, things get more serious. You come out of the elevator, your eyes engrossed in the New York Times. What is that stench? Your eyes fall on Frank, the young man working at reception. A cloud of sweat and musk wafts around him. His left hand is under the table, moving rhythmically back and forth. "Good morning, Frank!" you say sternly. His hand is suddenly on the table and he clicks away the porn on the screen. "Excuse may, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Ah didn't say yawl coming." You say that your name is Sebastian and that he should get back to work. Apparently he misunderstood. As soon as you turn around, he jerks off again.

And it smells bad in the office. A lot of employees here seem to have an increasing problem with personal hygiene. And spend more time in the gym. And watching cowboy movies. Still mostly young colleagues. But also a few who are your age. It's frightening.

You're sitting at the financial statements. They have to be finished in the next few days. And apart from you, no one in accounting seems to have a clear head anymore. What you're given is full of errors. In terms of content, spelling, grammar… A catastrophe. You hear heavy footsteps behind you. "Goldmann, Smith, Wagner. Into thuh conference room. Now!" You turn around. The two giants look a bit like your CEO and CFO. But they smell like the locker room at a rodeo.

The two of them will forward you the links to a few TikTok videos. You should watch them! Don't have an account yet? Then bloody well get one. You'll get a lecture that our business model isn't patriotic enough. That you're doing too much business with the disgusting gooks and the cowardly French and Krauts. You're supposed to make America great again. America first!

Robert and Richard look at each other and at you, embarrassed. They don't really understand what they should do now. Admittedly, neither do you. You wonder whether the board has gone mad. Robert and Richard, who represent product development and sales, start to discuss whether it is even possible to restructure the supply chains and distribution channels in the short term.

You install TikTok and take a look at the videos sent by the CEO. They are basically advertising messages from the right wing of the Republican party. Repulsive stuff. And you have no idea what this has to do with your company's accounting and controlling.

After reflecting on the situation for a few minutes, you get up and think that you need a drink for the shock. You wonder if they could do with one too? Robert and Richard, who have also just installed TikTok and are watching the videos, look up briefly and shake their heads.

The cognac you received as a gift a few years ago is no longer in your office. You also can't remember whether you gave it to someone as a gift or took it to a company party. Surprisingly, you find beer in the fridge in the coffee kitchen, which is actually against company policy, but no schnapps or anything like that. You go to Frank and ask if you have any whiskey or something similar. Frank spits his chewing tobacco into the wastepaper basket and pulls a silver hip flask out of a drawer. "Home-brewed by mah dad, Mr. Goldmann, sir! Do yawl need uh glass?" You shake your head, take the flask and take a big swig.

Rick and Bob ask if you've brought booze and chewing tobacco. The two of them rant about the government, fantasize about how good everything will be once Trump is back in power and scratch their balls. They're both good guys. A bit hollow in the head. But they have their hearts in the right place, don't think twice and implement orders quickly and efficiently.

You really can't believe the gobbledygook they spout. You sit down, take a pinch of chewing tobacco and push the tin over to them. And after an impressive burp that smells wonderfully of the chili from today's lunch, you take a deep breath.

"Buddies, is way men or weaklings? Thuh bosses want ideas frum us, not whinin'. Wadja thank uh thuh fallerin' plan: naw more deliveries uh goods frum China frum next year an doubled prices fahwar sales tuh Europe!" Bob and Rick both snot their tobacco in the corner, shout "Yeehaw" and fart. Hehehe, they also had the chili. Shit, a good chili fart always makes you horny. You pull down the blinds in the meeting room. And Bob and Rick undo their belt buckles.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #inked man #mullet #musk #stop trump #ai image

116 notes · View notes

choiwonder · 1 year

Text

FIRST KISS . HAN JISUNG

tw/cw ༝ 0.8k wc, ummm a little tiny bit suggestive, hints of pining, teasing, making out, my little interpretation of college/frat boy jisung, i am actually going over shakespeare and hamlet in class so i’m lowkey projecting, hyunjin is a cockblocker!!!!

“hey,” han steps aside as he opened the door.

you look around the house, not surprised by the amount of drinks, trash bags and food surrounding the kitchen. being a close friend of hyunjin would initially lead to you being constantly invited to his parties, “hey, where’s hyunjin?”

“he just went out to buy snacks for you guys.”

“oh, okay,” you nod, setting your bag down on the couch. you place your notebook, papers and laptop to prepare for tonight.

“what’re you guys going over tonight?” jisung asks, taking a seat and looking over what you set down on the table.

“shakespearean drama and the tragedy of hamlet,” you sigh, eyes lifting away from your phone and over to his, “we need to discuss the theme, its significance and the relationship of hamlet and horatio.”

han shook his head, leaning back, “so glad i don’t have to deal with that shit anymore. my classes are way better this year.”

“oh, yeah,” you smile, copying the way jisung leaned back on the couch and moved a few inches closer, “i forgot you switched majors… what’re you doing now?”

“dance.”

impressed by his response, your eyebrows raise. han’s lips stretch at your reaction, his body impulsively turning to face you.

“surprised?”

“kinda.”

he feigns offence, “why? what’d you expect?”

“maybe rap or producing,” you laugh as if it was obvious.

while hyunjin always invited you out, jisung was also there and you couldn’t help but admire him from afar. though you knew he was a good dancer, you also took notice at how good he was at rapping, singing and producing music. you were astonished and respected him for being hardworking and remaining humble.

“i know it’s something you’re good at… plus,” you voice drops down to a whisper and your hand aims for him to come closer as if someone was listening to this conversation. han leans over, fulfilling your request when his ear is next to your lips, “you’d look really hot working in a studio.”

jisung leans back, just enough for your faces to be inches apart. he could only smile at your comment, his pearly whites peeking through. his deep brown eyes flicker across the features of your face, solely focusing on the canvas of your lips.

han sucks in a breath, his hand carefully placed on your knee, itching to caress the palette of your thigh, “… do you think hyunjin would care if i kissed you right now?”

“mmmmm…. maybe,” you shrug with a small smile. if hyunjin were to find his two best friends kissing each other he’d likely throw a fit about how weird it is; but that was the least of your concerns, this conversation with jisung was far more important.

jisung falsely pouts, lightly squeezing your cheek, “well that’s too bad,” he pulls away with a sigh, all the warmness drafting from his skin vanished all too soon.

“such a tease,” you huff, rolling your eyes. you knew he wanted you to plead and beg for something as simple as a kiss but your stubbornness was stronger than his desire to see you compliant, “i have homework to do, go away.”

“aw, don’t be like that,” jisung laughs, “here, come, i’ll give you a kiss.”

you roll your eyes again, pushing him away as he tugs on your arm, but he doesn’t budge, his strength completely pulling you towards him. like mere seconds ago, han places his hand on your knee, leaning in close enough his mouth hovers centimeters above yours.

his free hand cups your cheek and you wait for him to make the first move but he does nothing except lean you back against the couch.

you heart thumped out your chest, yearning for this exact moment. you caved just as jisung hoped you would, but he only pulls back by a centimeter to watch you continuously feen for a kiss.

of course, knowing you’d push him away with no qualms of forgiveness, he finally fills the gap that settled between you. is this a dream? you think, feeling and adoring the way he drops his body weight, his knee resting idly between your legs. jisung hums, his hand moving up your thigh and under your shirt.

you quickly grip the back of his head, holding him close to you as he dares to pull away. from what was initially a simple first kiss turned into a mini makeout session. han could only chuckle, his breath intake reaching its limit, “you know i would love to continue but hyunjin’s here…”

a sigh of disappointment left the traces of your lips, you kiss han once more before moving away from him. he smiles, squeezing your cheek, ready to report back to his room, “don’t miss me too much, alright?”

taglist: @luvrhyune @ttyunz @uno7

511 notes · View notes

lavenderapollo · 4 months

Text

more things from my production of hamlet that permanently altered my brain chemistry

getting to pick out my own costume, wearing an old peacoat that i eventually took with me to college

all of the tiny details of my costume that nobody but myself noticed

horatio wearing a tiny heart locket because of the whole “heart’s core” thing

horatio fiddling with the necklace while watching the play within a play, while watching the fencing match

our director cut the script to create a deeper relationship between horatio and gertrude while hamlet is away getting captured by pirates

the letter scene

hamlet and horatio reading hamlet’s letter in sync, except hamlet reads “horatio” alone in the beginning and horatio reading “hamlet” alone at the end of the letter

horatio going straight from the letter scene into a conversation with gertrude about ophelia’s health

horatio being in ophelia’s mad scenes, watching her break down and cry, assisting with her wheelchair

gertrude relying on horatio for the truth about hamlet’s whereabouts

horatio staying with gertrude as she dies, then attending to laertes, then finally, to hamlet

our director remind our hamlet to “die center!!!”

hearing the bows music for the first time (the other side by david gray)

wittenberg crew making each other friendship bracelets (r&g had matching “rosie” and “guildy” bracelets, ho&ham had bracelets that read “good night” and “sweet prince” respectively)

making myself a bracelet that said “L + horatio”

THE GRAVEDIGGER SCENE

wearing my peacoat in the final scene, then tearing it off to give to laertes as he’s dying

hamlet holding claudius’ head, forcing him to drink the poison, then finishing him off with a small little nick to the ear, giving claudius a taste of his own medicine

ophelia having one fleeting moment of clarity when she sees laertes, running to hug him

polonia taking an awkward family photo with her kids, chastising them for not smiling enough

(accidentally photobombing those photos during rehearsals)

i mentioned yorick hot potato in the last post, but i didn’t mention that i pulled out a bottle of hand sanitizer after tossing the skull away

the lighting, the set

having to carefully fumble my way offstage once the lights went down, the three times i almost tripped over a foil

and the one time where i actually did

after that they put glow tape on the stage

our set designer crafted an entirely original crest for the hamlet family, using nordic, danish, and even some tolkien characters for inspiration

seeing the set for the first time

our first time staging the death scene

there’s a photo of me in my lil spot by hamlet, surrounded by dead bodies and bathed in red light just kinda going like 😁👍👍

crushing the other teams at shakespeare trivia during our closing night cast party

#shakespeare #hamlet #hamratio #shut up apollo #william shakespeare #horatio #tragic danish boyfriends #classic literature #better late than never #cuz it’s been a very long time

109 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

The Stranger 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Destroyer!Chris

Summary: A stranger buys the farmstead nearby and disturbs your sleepy village life.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Your grandmother sends you into town for groceries. Mads, the old welder from down the road, drives you in with your wagon, dropping you off on his way to the next county. His son lives in the next hamlet with his new wife. Their wedding was the last big event in Hammer Ford.

Mads helps you unload the wagon from the bed of his truck and bids you a goodbye. You hope he enjoys his visit with Matthias, he seems to miss him. You wave at his departure before you set off down to the grocer.

You mill the aisles as you follow the list your grandmother gave you. Nothing beyond the usual haul. If only her old car hadn’t broken down. It seems everything around you is at a limit. You feel it all commingling as inevitability looms. Something’s gotta give.

You turn into the dairy section, searching out the plain Skyr. You squint at the selection, looking for the decisive blue banner. You reach for a container but quickly shy away as another mirrors your movement. You back up and stare at the rest of the selection, waiting for the other shopper to grab their yogurt and go.

“You like this stuff?” The rocky voice rolls through you.

You wince. It’s familiar. Well, around here, it’s bound to be. You peer over at the other customer. That man. The newcomer. The one you brought the pie too.

You shrug and claim a container of your own and put it in the wagon. You just want to get this done with. You have to drag the wagon all the way back to your grandmother’s. It’s better than walking both ways but still a trek.

“Is it better than Greek?” He asks.

You tug the wagon across the aisle and look at the cheese. He sighs. You hear the dull clack of the plastic tub set back on the shelf. His shadow lurks behind you.

“Did I do something? Say something?” He wonders as he steps in front of you.

You ignore him and grab a brick of cream cheese. You add it to your load. His sole squeaks on the floor and he rests his hand on the shelf.

“Look, I think maybe we got off to a bad start. I’m Chris, what’s your name?”

You blanch and blink at him. Why is he bothering you? Can’t he see you’re utterly hopeless?

You mutter your name, thinking it might just make him leave you alone. He’s being nice but you’re not ready for this. Entirely unprepared for him or a conversation. He’s a stranger, even if you do know his name.

“I like that,” he says, “pie was good.”

You frown and shake your head before you realise what he means.

“Grandma baked it,” you say plainly.

“Oh. You live with her?” He wonders.

You nod and grab the handle of the wagon again, “excuse me, sir.”

You bow your head and try to step past him. He doesn’t move. His cart is on the other side of the aisle, penning you in.

“I’ll have to say thank you. It was very nice of you to walk all the way up there.”

“Sir,” you look down at the list, a subtle way of saying you’re busy.

“You walk all the way here?” He leans to look around you at the wagon, “I could give you a lift back. I still owe you.”

“It’s okay,” you barely get your voice above a whisper. You don’t know what’s wrong with you. He’s being perfectly pleasant but you just want to disappear. “Thanks.”

“Right,” he crosses his arms, “well, just try not to get lost in the woods.”

You wince and peer up at him. Your cheeks burn and you drop your eyes shamefully at the allusion of your previous gaff. You don’t think you’ll be taking the same short cut again.

“I’m kidding,” he says, “sorry, I… I’m just trying to lighten the mood. Look, if you don’t need a ride, maybe I could buy you a slice of pie from that bakery down the road. Then we can call it even.”

You rock back and forth. You push your hand down to hide the tremble in it, pressing the list against your stomach. You take a breath and look him in the face, just for a moment before you shy away and end up talking to the collar of his shirt.

“Even?” You echo.

“Sure,” he agrees, “pie for a pie.”

Your cheek pinches at the bad pun. You nod and sway, glancing back at your wagon.

“I gotta finish,” you crinkle the paper as you wave it.

“Right, me too,” he drawls, “I’ll meet ya there?”

You sniff and nod. You got his name, that means you can appease your grandmother, and you can get him to leave you alone for good. Even, done. No more reason to bother you. Besides, you wouldn’t mind sitting down before you head back down the country roads.

“Okay,” you murmur softly.

“Promise,” he insists.

“Mhmm,” you hum and put your nose down to the list, “excuse me, I gotta grab more sugar.”

“Of course,” he sidles out of the way, moving to stand behind his cart, crossing his arms against the bar, “what kinda pie do you like?”

You hesitate before dragging the wagon forward. Your mind is racing. You’re already regretting your surrender.

“Apple,” you utter and roll down the aisle. He repeats the word in his silty tone, toying with it as he hums.

You turn down the next row as you hide behind the list. You think of just heading out with what you have and seeing if you can’t get a head start before he can catch up. No, no. You already made a mess of this. It won’t take much more for him to realise you’re a disaster better left alone.

#the stranger #destroyer!chris #dark chris #dark!chris #destroyer!chris x reader #destroyer #backwoods au #au #series #drabble

95 notes · View notes

abilouwrites · 6 months

Text

HOW YOU GET THE GIRL

Mat Barzal x fem!oc

Series Masterlist

ONE

I only like the bookstore during the night, when it’s slow and nobody’s around. The lights are flickering and the town suddenly goes quiet in contrast with the bustle of the busy mornings and heavy traffic of the day.

I only work here on the weekends for the closing shifts or the opening ones. Something to make a little more money to fall back on besides my adult corporate job. My parents are proud, more my father than my mother that I’ve begun my climb up the corporate ladder.

I don’t hate my job, far from it. Simply the long hours and bossy bosses that make me pull at my fingers and tug at my hair. Especially with my youth and admitted naivety, those at my job can be wary about me either in the break room or being hesitant to invite me out for drinks.

I’ve been told by my therapist that I rushed my childhood, skipping grades and taking collage classes while also taking highschool classes at the same time. I want to fight her on it, claim that I did have a childhood and had dreams but I know that I’m defending something I never had.

Two parents who were always fighting; hated eachother but swore to stay together because of their vows, “Hey Bella” I smile at the older lady standing at the counter as I tuck behind into the back room and set my purse onto the table and wrapping my apron around my body, “slow day?” I ask as I switch from heels to converse.

“Yeah, it’s the middle of the school season so all the kidlets are probably studying” she sighs out rubbing her tired eyes, “ok, I’m off. Be safe. Please” she reminds me as she pats my shoulder, “I’ll need you to come in a bit earlier tomorrow for the opening shift, we’re getting a new shipment of books for the month”

“Uhh, yeah yeah I can do that, so 5:30 instead of six?” I clarify, as I clock myself in on the timetable next to the register.

“Yes, thank you Emma. You’re a doll” She smiles and blows me a kiss exiting the building as the cold wind brushes against her; gently pulling at the greying blonde hair that’s always been tucked into a a little bun.

I turn on some music to keep my mind from straying as I walk around the store. Gently brushing my fingers against the creased spines and occasional leather covered book. Those nice collectors editions are always Romeo and Juliet, or Hamlet.

Personally I’ve thought Romeo and Juliet a bit childish and immature, but I’ve always been told I’m looking at it from a modern perspective. I believe that Romeo and Juliet is the way to not fall in love.

But then again, that’s coming from the girl who watched her parents try and fix an already broken marriage by having an abundance of kids and forcing themselves to stay together even though, everyone’s known they’d be better apart. Even their own kids.

I tidy up the reading corner, setting the old book. Princess and the pea back onto the shelf and searching for the one tomorrow.

My my fingers pull and push against the covers of the kids books, looking for something different. I don’t pay attention when the bell jingles and jangles while I hear a heavy step quickly become softer. I hear them physically relax as they walk the isles.

I eventually decide on a book with a unicorn and a blonde girl. Something I fondly remember of my own childhood.

I stretch up a little and let my hair down from its clip, it falls unevenly against my shoulders but I don’t mind or even care that much. This bookstore is my happy place; where I am safe and content within my own body. Here I will never care what I look like.

I view the man searching in the fiction section, something specific I can tell by his body language. If he needs help I’ll allow him to ask; yet I’m wary of going up to a man and guiding him to the book.

When he finally notices me watching him he turns around and asks, “do you know where I can find ‘The road’ it’s uh. Geez by I think by Cormac McCarthy?” He stumbles out; slowly dragging a hand across his face and brushing his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes.

His face is soft but sharp; his eyes evoke a warm bubbly feeling inside me. Eyes that make me feel comfortable being alone with him, “yes, I believe we only have a few left” I tell him, walking off to a different section of the store, “I know, our shop is set up weird” I explain.

“And why’s that?” He inquires, his pace isnt rushed or faster than mine. But relaxed and nonchalant. As if he has all the time in the world.

“The original owners, she has a special section called ‘Meine Leibe’ which I think translates to ‘My loves’ or ‘my life’ once she passed her daughter kept it the same so this little section would always be here for her. I find it endearing” I know I ramble on a bit but I’ve suddenly grown afraid of having a silence against the two of us

“It is, it’s just a little place with all her favorite books?” He keeps asking, as I turn into the cozy little corner. I thumb through the alphabetical order.

“Yeah, her favorite chair, pillows. Shannon was such a kind lady” I reminisce, “here is The Road, is there anything else I can help you with? Or will that be all for today?”

“Uhh, ha unless you have ‘The deal’ by Elle Kennedy then I’ll take that too” I think he’s being sarcastic but I can’t really tell.

“I think we do, are you a hockey fan?” I ask walking to the romance section.

“I guess you could say that, do you watch?” He asks, “do you need a hand?”

“I watch a bit, just the New Jersey Devils with my dad. Yeah it’s just above there” I point, even on my tip toes the store has ceiling high bookshelves. And because it’s night the ladders been locked up. I move to the side as he grabs the book.

“Are you from Jersey?”

“Yeah, I lived there before I came to New York for a work deal”

“I’m going to assume it’s not this job.. right?” As he makes his way to the register and I slink behind the counter

“Yeah, my uh big girl job as my mom likes to address it as” I hear the roll in my eyes as I scan the bar codes and ring him up, “will that be with cash or card?”

“Card” He pulls his wallet out of the front pocket of his jacket, “thank you”, he checks for my name eyes staring just above but also at my chest.

I poke my eyebrows up at him praying to god this man isn’t looking at my tits directly; not even with the slightest bit of discretion.

“I’m uh looking for your name to thank you— I swear I’m not looking at your uh. You know boobs” he almost whispers out the last bit before continuing, “not that they aren’t nice or anything but uh” the tips of his ears turn pink and his cheeks suddenly become flushed, “I will just pay now” he groans out softly; handing me his card and rubbing his eyes with his hands.

I ring him up and he puts his pin in, “thank you again, you never told me your name” he questions for that piece of information

“Emma”

“Thank you Emma, have a good evening” he purses his lips and grabs his books. Hands shaking as he smiles and starts to leave.

“You too, wait” I lean over the bar slightly, “you never told me your name?”

“Mat”

“Alright then, have a good evening Mat. Come back soon”

The door jingles as he leaves and I watch him through the window, I see him sigh and smack his books against his head. Though I don’t exactly hear what he says; noises muffled through the glass and the music.

“Huh. What a strange guy”

#hockey #nhl #mat barzal my beloved #mat barzal #mat barzal x reader #mathew barzal #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x oc #new york #new york islanders #New York hockey #New York islanders hockey #islander hockey #mb13 #mathew barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #louiseabilenewrites

142 notes · View notes

wen-kexing-apologist · 6 months

Text

SHADOW THE SERIES!!

ALRIGHT Y’ALL I HAVE SUCCESSFULLY BINGED ALL SEVEN EPISODES OF SHADOW (2023) THAT HAVE CURRENTLY BEEN RELEASED AND MY BRAIN IS GOING A MILE A FUCKING MINUTE. I HAVE ABOUT 25 THEORIES ALL BOUNCING AROUND IN HERE, ALL OF WHICH ARE PROBABLY WRONG.

Thank God for @so-much-yet-to-learn deciding not to watch this, meaning he can’t be spoiled and I can spam his DMs with all the twists, and turns.

I literally do not think at this point, even seven episodes in I can really write analysis of the show. I’m almost certainly going to rewatch this, and maybe that will inspire conversations around lighting, and blocking, and use of reflection but for now, I am just going to talk about some of the things I have been noticing and some paths I see those threads taking.

First of all, in a ghost story, I do not think that I am actually putting too much weight on the use of Hamlet as a play in this story. However, I will admit upfront that I am very potentially putting too much weight on the Greek mythology (River Styx, and Orpheus and Eurydice) that were referenced in, I think like…episode 1 or 2.

gif by @pharawee

But, what can you expect when some of the first supernatural happenings we get is Dan waking up on a boat in the middle of a body of water (River Styx)? This does not hold consistently, but there is a trend I have been noticing, of following. It has been making me think of Orpheus and Eurydice, that Orpheus is supposed to guide his lover out of the underworld, and back to the land of the living, but he cannot turn to look behind him. He has to trust that Eurydice is there, following behind him.

And I have been noticing some point in the show where following behind and not turning back to look have been particularly relevant. In Episode 6, Dan sees a reflection of Trin in the bathroom mirror. Trin is technically behind Dan, but the second that Dan turns to look? Trin is gone. When Dan looks away, he sees a reflection in the mirror of Trin leaving the bathroom, and he follows behind Trin all the way to the funhouse.

This scene had some particularly striking and beautiful uses of mirrors and reflections. Namely that we see Trin, walking, and Dan following far behind in a number of mirrors. But every time a mirror appears Dan stops for a moment to look at himself. At this point, Trin has continued moving (in fact Trin never stops moving) and we see Dan completely alone in the mirror. What does this have to do with anything? What is the show trying to say about what purpose Trin, the shadow, the visions Dan have serve? Not sure yet! But it’s fucking fascinating.

Hamlet, of course, is an obvious choice of story for a boy that can see ghosts, especially because Dan sees the ghost of his father at some point(s) in the show. Especially because there is a recurring theme/motif of drowning in this show. We have multiple boys who are haunted, both Dan and Nai being able to see ghosts, we have Dan who harbors anger in his heart for the way his father abused the family, we have a boy who went missing, last seen by the lake and whose ghost consistently appears waterlogged. We have a shadow that grabs Dan by the ankle and tries to keep him below water, we have a moment where Dan sees Trin’s lifeless body floating in a pool. Where are they going with this? I don’t know! And I want to find out.

photo from @sparklyeyedhimbo

I have thoughts about water and it’s relation to baptism, that these boys are attending a Catholic school, that Dan is constantly pushing back against the way the school functions and the beliefs that Brother Anurak holds. I am so fascinated by the fact that Catholic priest Brother Anurak cannot confirm the existence of spirits, (when Dan has been haunted by this shadow for almost a decade of his life), and that he turns to Buddhism, and a venerable monk to help him navigate the moments where he slips between reality and dreams.

I am fascinated by the fact that the Shadow we see gets progressively less scary, at least to me, as time goes on. This is an entity that has been following Dan from the time he was seven. When he was a child, at his mother’s funeral he called this Shadow his friend when he was talking to Brother Anurak.

This may seem tangential, but, about a year or two ago, I played a little indie video came called Gone Home. The premise is that you arrive back to your childhood home, unannounced only to find that no one in your family is home, they have vanished without a trace, and all that remains are these letters your sister left. When I started playing this game, I was tense, I thought perhaps the house was haunted, perhaps my family had been killed and a murderer was about to pop out from around a corner. But as the story unfolds, as you read more letters from your sister, you realize that she’s queer, she’s telling you a story of why she has left, she has gone to reunite with her girlfriend. And I cannot explain the level of safety and comfort that washed over me the second I realized this was a queer story.

In some ways that is what this Shadow feels like to me. At first it is scary, it is set up to be, it creeps up, background music builds tension, creates jumpscares of sorts, the shadow is what keeps nearly drowning Dan. But as the episodes continue, the shadow doesn’t do that anymore, Dan turns around and hugs the Shadow, and it takes him to his father (who is a massive fucking asshole to be fair).

gif by @pharawee

In Episode 6 or 7, Dan is dreaming of one of the few peaceful and happy memories he has of childhood, and the Shadow rests it’s incorporeal hands on his shoulders, almost familiar and comforting, and Dan talks to it. Dan asks it if he can stay there a little longer, and the Shadow lets him. And for me this begs the question, what is the Shadow? Is the Shadow one entity, or multiple? Are the different interactions with the Shadow meant to signify Dan is interacting with multiple different people? Is the Shadow a spirit, or a manifestation of something else: grief, anger, pain? Did Dan die/is Dan dead?

We see two instances of almost sexual acts performed by the Shadow on Dan. Once happens in a dream, and within the dream Dan is conscious. But he wakes up the next morning wet and covered in scratch marks. The second time, Dan is unconscious, but the Shadow appears in the real world, not the dream world (as far as we can tell) and starts pulling up Dan’s shirt, leans in close, so that they are almost mouth to Shadow…mouth? Both times, there is some form of pleasure on Dan’s face, but both times Dan is technically unconscious, and not really able to give consent.

Is Dan supposed to be enjoying these moments? If so, are they coming from a lover of his, either one from the past or are we perpetuating circles of time where Dan is retroactively being haunted by someone he loves and loses in the future? I don’t know about you all, and personally I don’t want every story that involved Catholicism to focus on the known history of pedophilia within the Catholic church, but…

gif from @pharawee

Dan has been seeing the Shadow since after he was shot accidentally by his mother and she had a mental breakdown, but this is around the same time that Brother Anurak, Catholic Priest, Brother Anurak enters the picture. And Dan says that the Shadow has been getting stronger since he started at this boarding school where Brother Anurak is a teacher. Could the Shadow be a metaphor for childhood sexual assault trauma that Dan cannot remember, or does not want to face? Possibly. Brother Anurak has seemed a little bit suspicious in the show thus far, (not wholly in the like, “possibly a pedophile” way to be clear, just in the “this dude almost certainly knows more about this student’s disappearance than he is letting on” kind of way).

Then again, according to the precisely thirty seconds of google searching on name meanings I did, Anurak as a name apparently means “the one who takes care” or “male angel”. I would love someone who is not me and has an actual understanding of the Thai language to correct me if I am wrong. (@recentadultburnout or @lurkingteapot are either of you watching this show? If so, would you be willing to discuss name meanings for Shadow the series? Obviously, no pressure or obligation).

ANYWAY, the Shadow does not really seem like all too much of an antagonistic force at this point, more of a neutral or potentially positive force, so again, I have 25 different theories that are all possibly wrong, and this is one of them.

Other theories about the Shadow: Dan started seeing it after almost dying of a gunshot wound, it’s just like the manifestation of death and Dan has been running from it for awhile, it is a manifestation of the people Dan cares about in his life, it is actively trying to possess Dan and keeps getting interrupted, it is a spiritual guide that is supposed to lead Dan towards helping other spirits find justice and peace. It’s a physical manifestation of queerness. Like seriously, I could probably go on all day.

And actually, queerness is something I do want to talk about while I am here. Because this show is certainly not shying away from homophobia.

gif by @pharawee

Nai has suffered for revealing his crush on Anan the previous year, he is still suffering for it. It did not escape my notice that the only known queer kid at an all-boys Catholic boarding school does not have a roommate. Nai is pretty much always alone, until Dan shows up, and Nai is warned by his teacher to stay away from Dan to make sure “Dan stays out of trouble”. Ever time that Dan and Nai are seen walking together, touch each other casually, exit a room together, they are called a slur. Nai tries to tell Dan to stay away from him so that Dan isn’t condemning himself to the life of a social pariah. We get one good Token Straight Friend in Josh. We learn that Trin was queer, and Trin was friends with Nai, and now Trin has disappeared.

The queer kid(s) or the kids associated with the queer kid are the only people getting beaten up at this school, and the actor that plays dickbag Anan is truly committing to the bit, because the (fake) punches he delivers look like they got some force to them.

I was actually just chatting with @so-much-yet-to-learn and as I was writing out the sentence “what if the Shadow is a physical manifestation of queerness?” he wrote “ooh, so Nai sees them as human figures whereas Dan sees his as a shadow commentary on how aware they are of their sexuality, maybe?” Dan does see Trin in full form, so I am not sure how much this does track, but it is at least worth acknowledging that Nai is aware of his queerness, has been outed, is The Known Queer at school, and has a very visibly obvious crush on Dan. Meanwhile, Dan reads queer (to me), some of the things he says, the way he laughed at Josh asking him if he liked Cha-aim, the fact that he sticks with Nai, make me think he is aware of his queerness. But, we as the audience have not actually gotten any explicit confirmation that Dan is queer or aware of his queerness.

photo from @blmpff

However, it is worth noting the physical ghost that Dan is able to see is Trin, another queer boy, (who everyone at school knew was queer because they knew he had a crush on his male theater teacher) and then some random boy that we have never seen before that he, once again, only sees in a mirror. But in Episode 7, Dan has lost this grounding stone, and the line between reality and dreams is constantly blurring. In Episode 7, Dan dreams of a near empty place, the only thing on the floor are drawings of a boxer, a naval ship, a sailor. He sees a man with one arm missing, the remainder of the limb bandaged and bleeding, he sees a man (again, only from behind) handcuffed to a table, behind bars, reading a letter by candlelight, he sees a man tied to a post, blindfolded and about to be executed, once again facing away, back turned to a firing squad.

Dan finds out like, practically the next day about the local legend of the One Armed Man, who was a boxer, joined the navy, lost his arm, sold himself to homosexual millionaires, and got arrested for selling drugs to party goers who ended up dying of drug overdoses. You know who else has currently been associated with a narcotics related drug overdose?

Trin.

The missing, queer boy who was trying to break tradition, and bring progress to his school.

Trin, the missing queer boy who has hallucinations. Hallucinations like…

Dead bodies.

You know who else saw dead bodies in the most recent episodes?

Dan.

photos from @sparklyeyedhimbo

I don’t know where I am going with this beyond the fact that Trin is established to have bipolar disorder, for which was on medication. In flashback he is shown stating that he wants to get off his medication, we are told in the present that he had stopped taking his medication, and that instead he was treating his bipolar with narcotics, and that he had smoked week the night of his disappearance. It is at this point I would like to say, this show would be absolutely fucking based if they actually gave Trin bipolar disorder, and then had the adults that are suspicious and clearly hiding something, weaponize the stigma against his mental health disorder to try to discredit whatever Trin was trying to do, as well as distance themselves from any potential suspicion around their level of involvement in Trin’s disappearance. (This is not to say this is behavior I support irl, it is to say that it would be excellent commentary around how someone’s mental health can be weaponized against them in truly terrible ways)

So by my count we have two instances of drug overdose mentions from two separate people and stories (Trin’s disappearance and the One Armed Man), and two instances of “hallucinations” of seeing dead people (Trin’s vision he discusses in an audio recording and Dan’s vision in art class). These are not enough data points to say they are definitively doing something with this, but it is just something I am noting.

Another theory that @so-much-yet-to-learn floated in conversation with me was the idea that the boys that were being haunted were ones who were breaking the status quo in some way. Trin was trying to do away with hazing at school and was called in to the administrator’s office multiple times and told to change his student president campaign policies, Nai is currently the only known queer at school, and Dan does not engage in anything even resembling filial piety. (Again, his dad is a Grade A Major Fucking Asshole).

photos from @sparklyeyedhimbo

Where am I going with this? I don’t know! Maybe nowhere! Again, my brain is going BRRRRRRR and I am just rapidly cycling through a thousand unformed theories. God, I just want to know what happened, I want to know what everyone knows, I want to know what the fuck is up with Anan and the teacher he is fucking and their involvement in all of this, I wanna know why the fuck he is as reactive as he is (like he literally almost strangled Dan to the point of unconsciousness at the end of Episode 7), Anan and HIS TEACHER keep making references to Trin, to “the nurses other daughter”, throwing suspicion on Dan about knowing about them. I want to know how they are involved in all of this.

I JUST WANT TO KNOW EVERYTHING! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IS HAPPENING, I CAN SEE A MILLION DIFFERENT OUTCOMES, I AM HAVING A GREAT TIME AND I FUCKING HOPE THIS SHOW CAN STICK THE LANDING BECAUSE I AM ENJOYING IT SO MUCH.

#shadow #shadow the series #singto prachaya #fluke natouch #thai bl #gagaoolala #shadow meta #shadow analysis #shadow the series meta #shadow the series analysis #brain dump #i need the rest of this show immediately

86 notes · View notes

heartss4val · 11 months

Text

𝐞𝐝𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐜'𝐬

summary. headcanons of your relationship with edmund pevensie before dating. (fem reader)

— straight up fluff, nothing else. PART 1/2

— Caspian introducing you to him as a friend, and Edmund being absolutely awestruck by everything about you so much so that he forgets to even tell you his name. He is visibly blushing and stuttering, unable to meet your eyes.

— Him slowly becoming more comfortable with physical touch, but ONLY if it's coming from you. But once he gets comfortable, he's always trying to find an excuse to be closer to you.

— "Accidental" hand touches (which are totally on purpose) when both of you are reaching for the same book. Then getting flustered and immediately pulling away before reaching for the same book once more and brushing hands AGAIN.

— Reciting Shakespearean quotes to each other. You two can have a whole conversation with just quotes from Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, or even A Midsummer Night’s Dream. But the quotes just keep getting more and more suggestive until you're both just absentmindedly flirting with each other without even realizing it because it just seems so natural.

— Him teaching you how to play chess, which ends up being a mistake once you two have your first chess game. Because he just ends up staring at your concentrated face, thinking you're the most beautiful thing he's ever laid his eyes upon. So he just absolutely FUMBLES. Putting his king in danger, not taking your free bishops, trading off his queen, etc. But he's okay with it because it just means he'll get to see your face light up once you realize you're winning.

— Eye contact across a crowded room. His eyes just naturally gravitate towards the most alluring thing in the room.. which happens to be you. And exchanging smiles once you realize he's staring at you. The amount of hours he's spent admiring you from afar.. he can't keep count.

— If you happen to be shorter than him, every single insecurity about his height VANISHES. The height difference ends up being a great source of enjoyment for him. He's never really the tallest in the room, so he gets some sort of pride and confidence from the height difference, even if you're only an inch shorter than him. Either way, the teasing will be astronomical.

— Him finding a way to touch you one way or the other. Picking a petal out of your hair, comparing hand sizes, or sharing an umbrella. He'll make an excuse like, "My hands are so cold, feel them." but he doesn't pull his hand away.

— Hang out's that start to feel more and more like dates. Because what kind of "best friends" lie their head in the other's lap while reading, or cuddle in the library, or give each other "TOTALLY PLATONIC AND FRIENDLY" kisses on the nose and cheeks?

— His siblings noticing that he smiles a LOT more often around you. Like he's full on blushing and fidgeting.. a blind man could tell that he likes you. Peter always finds a way to tease him about it.

— Lucy being his wingwoman because YES.

— Susan, Lucy, and Peter making bets on the two of you. Like who's going to confess first, who will initiate the first kiss, and even who will propose first. Mind you, these bets were all placed BEFORE the two of you started dating.

— Him not even realizing that he's gushing about you. Like you're all he ever talks about. Always managing to bring you into a conversation. Like, "oh, Y/N would love that." or "Y/N loves that story too. She has an impeccable taste in books, doesn't she?" He makes it wayyy to obvious..

— Unsent letters. UNSENT LETTERS. Hear me out. Him just pouring out his feelings for you, and everything he loves about you, and describing every minuscule detail about your appearance, and writing a list of your favorite things. And he laminates them and everything, writes your name on the top of the letter as if he's going to give it to you, but he never does. So his stack of letters about you, and only you, are always growing on a never-ending pile on his desk.

— Star-gazing to clear your minds, with one of his arms wrapped around your shoulder. Except his eyes aren't looking at the stars, they're trained on you, thinking about how beautiful you look in the pale moonlight.

∙ a/n woop woop! first post! hope u enjoyed it. not sure when the next update will arrive, but summer break is soon sooo?? ill probably write again once finals are over AUGH.

∙ okk, au revoir! val tuning out.

#edmund pevensie x reader #edmund pevensie fluff #edmund pevensie fanfiction #edmund pevensie imagine #edmund x reader #narnia #edmund pevensie headcanon #narnia x reader #edmund pevensie x you

379 notes · View notes

ariel-seagull-wings · 9 days

Text

BICHO DE PALHA

@princesssarisa @hamlet-macbeth-othello @softlytowardthesun @grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales @themousefromfantasyland @professorlehnsherr-almashy @faintingheroine @allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken

(Portuguese and Brazilian Folktale)

They say that a very rich man was widowed and remarried, having a daughter, Maria, who looked young and was beautiful.

The stepmother immediately disliked her stepdaughter and became angry when she had a daughter and she was relatively ugly, compared to Maria.

The man had scattered properties and lived traveling, running his businesses.

He only lasted a short time at home and in those moments, Maria felt better.

In her father's absence, her stepmother forced her to do the roughest and hardest jobs, feeding her the worst and in insignificant quantities.

Life became unbearable for the girl who consoled herself by praying and crying.

On the way to the river where she went to wash clothes, she always met an old lady with serene features and very kind. Maria ended up talking about her suffering and remaining silent so as not to hurt her father.

The old lady encouraged her with words full of sweetness.

As the stepmother became more violent and brutal, the stepdaughter decided to leave the house and look for work far away from that hell.

She met with the old lady and confessing her idea, the old woman agreed, gave her a lot of advice, gave her blessing and as she said goodbye, she took out a small wand, white as silver, saying:

"Take this wand, Maria, and when you are in danger, desire or suffering, you must say: "my magic wand, for the magic that God gave you, give me". And everything will happen as you ask."

Maria was very grateful and ran away. First, obeying the old woman's advice, she made a large plaited straw cloak with a hood through which there was a way to look through, and got inside.

After walking for a long time, she arrived at an important city.

She asked for a job in a palace and was told there were no more places.

She was leaving, sad and hungry, when an employee remembered that they needed someone to wash the rooms, corridors and stairs and clean the servants' quarters. Maria accepted the task and, thanks to her unique dress, they only called her “Bicho de Palha”. Dirty, silent, withdrawn into corners, always working, Bicho de Palha didn't bother anyone and everyone tolerated her.

The palace belonged to a young, well-made and handsome prince, who still had a mother, and was of marriageable age. In another palace, on the opposite side of the city, parties would be held for three days.

The girls were excited about the dances, attended by the society boys. In the palace the conversation was about the balls. Nurses, visitors and maids commented on the organization and splendor of the three elegant evenings.

Finally the first night arrived.

Bicho de Palha, through the holes in her mask, looked at the prince and loved him sincerely. She discreetly hovered near him, yearning for an order. In the afternoon, as there was no other maid around, the prince shouted:

"Bicho de Palha! Bring me a basin of water..."

Bicho de Palha took the basin and the prince washed his face. Afterwards, everyone went to the ball, some to dance and others to watch.

Being alone in her dark room, Bicho de Palha took off her cloak, took her wand and commanded, as the old lady had taught her:

"My magic wand! For the gift that God gave you, give me a silver carriage and a dress the color of the field with all its flowers."

Words spoken, the silver carriage, coachmen and servants appeared, a complete dress, from the diadem to the field-colored shoes with all their flowers. Bicho de Palha got dressed, took the carriage and went to the ball where he caused a sensation.

The prince immediately came to greet her and only danced with her, not allowing the other young men to approach her.

He confessed that he was impressed and asked where she lived. Bicho de Palha taught:

"I live on Basin Street..."

At exactly midnight, on the pretext of going to breathe the fresh air, the girl ran to her carriage which disappeared down the road. The prince was inconsolable and left the party soon after.

The other day, at the palace, the maids told Bicho de Palha about the events of the ball and about the mysterious princess who had the most beautiful outfit and the most beautiful face of the night.

The prince had dispatched many servants to look for Basin Street, but they all returned without knowing anything. That afternoon, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a towel.

When everyone left for the party, Bicho de Palha took the wand and obtained a golden carriage and a dress the color of the sea with all its fish. He got dressed and went to the ball palace.

As soon as she entered, everyone recognized her and hailed her as the most elegant, graceful and friendly. The prince never left her side, talking, dancing, asking a thousand questions. He insisted on the girl's address.

"I no longer live on Basin Street, but on Towel Street. I moved today." It happened like the first night. Bicho de Palha invented an excuse and got into the carriage that ran like crazy.

The prince also left and spent the next day sighing and ordering the whole city to look for the Towel Street.

Bicho de Palha listened to the enthusiastic impressions of the servants in the kitchen, all talking about the prince's passion and the beauty of the girl.

On the afternoon of that day, the prince asked Bicho de Palha for a comb. Finding herself alone in the palace, Bicho de Palha invoked the power of the magic wand and received a carriage of diamonds and a dress the color of the sky with all its stars.

Entering the ballroom, Bicho de Palha received the greetings as if she were a queen. No one had ever seen such an attractive girl and such a rare dress.

The prince walked behind her like a shadow, serving her and asking everything, crazy with love. Bicho de Palha said that she had moved to Comb Street, permanently. And they danced a lot.

Close to midnight, knowing that it was the time when the girl disappeared as if she were enchanted, the prince called his servants and ordered an excavation to be opened near the palace gate, waiting for the carriage to stop.

This, however, did not happen, Bicho de Palha jumped into the carriage and it took off like lightning, jumping over the ditch, but the jolt was so sudden that one of Bicho de Palha's shoes, thrown outside the door, was lost. A servant found it and took it to the prince, who was very pleased.

Everyone looked for Comb Street in the city.

The prince decided to find the girl another way. He ordered the shoe to be taken to every house, putting it on everyone's feet.

Whoever wore it perfectly, neither loose nor tight, would be the charming girl at the dances. The servants walked up and down the street, putting shoes on the feet of the young women and the old women.

None of them could take a single step with him on their feet. The servants returned to the palace and tried putting tits on the maids and nurses. Anything.

Finally, a servant in charge remembered that Bicho de Palha had not been invited to wear the cute shoes. They all laughed, but, so that the prince wouldn't accuse them of having left someone to wear the shoe, they sent for Bicho de Palha, as a reason to laugh, and told him to try it on.

Bicho de Palha, with her wand in hand, asked that the dress from the third night of the party appear on her body, beneath the straw cape.

The prince came to watch.

Bicho de Palha, surrounded by laughing servants, put his foot into the shoe and it fit her perfectly.

Then she stretched out his other foot and everyone saw that he was wearing shoes just like the first.

They could hardly believe what they saw, when the straw fell and the beautiful girl from the three balls appeared, with the dress the color of the sky with all the stars, the diadem with the diamond moon, everything shining like the very stars of the firmament.

The prince rushed in hugging her and calling for his mother so she could meet her future daughter-in-law.

They got married soon.

Bicho de Palha told her story, and the magic wand, fulfilling the wishes of the old lady, who was Our Lady, disappeared, leaving them very happy on earth.

#cinderella #folklore #folktales #fairy tales #fantasy #literature #brazil

28 notes · View notes

ashisgreedy · 6 months

Text

Richard Jackdaw xF!MC

“In Your Best Nightmares.”

WC: 4,800

"If another ghost would dare to tell me he likes you, I'll have none of it; and, if a mortal man tries to steal you, I'll haunt his dreams."

"If you can haunt their dreams… then why don’t you visit me in mine?"

MC makes her way through the streets of Hogsmead delicately clutching a small parcel to her chest. Her feet pound the cobblestone as lanterns light her path back to her hamlet, a pleasant floral aroma wafting from the bag in her hands. She was two galleons lighter as she smiled into the night air, her cloak flowing behind her as her home grew in the distance.

“I got it!” She exclaimed, busting her front door open and yelling into the darkness.

She took a few deep breaths and watched the ghost of Richard Jackdaw float languidly down the short hallway from her bedroom.

“They had some in stock?” He smiled, nearing her with curious eyes. He looked down at the small bag in her hands and tried to take a whiff. He frowned when nothing accosted his senses.

“Yes! The shopkeeper said she had even more Blue Lotus flowers in case I wanted more later.” MC smiled and lifted her hand out to the apparition. It melted into his form as she gave him a wide smile. “She said it was guaranteed to produce results as long as I drank enough for my tolerance, that is.”

Richard moved toward her hand, as if he were leaning into her touch, and gazed into her wide eyes. “Well, this first night will be the test run, I suppose. We shall see how much Blue Lotus flower you must take first to induce lucidity.”

“Richard…” She took a deep breath and slid her fingertips in the air along his jawline. “I can’t wait. I want to take it right now and try to fall asleep.”

Jackdaw smiled and let out a small laugh “My dear, it is still early and you’ve yet to have dinner. Please, eat and go about your nightly routine as normal. Trust me, I won’t forget to remind you about the flower.” His hand moved to her face and she felt a tingle of ice race down her spine. It was a very welcome feeling and something she’d grown fond of since their ‘relationship’ had continued past graduation. She agreed and set the parcel down on her small dining table for now.

Soon, the evening was in full swing. She lit the fireplace and cooked a meal for one in the kitchen as Richard made conversation. He watched her saute mushrooms over her shoulder. Telling her how he’d love to kiss her cheek at this moment, smiling pleasantly when she blushed.

Despite their relationship being full of “If I could’s” and “Where I able’s”, they’d managed a mostly ‘normal’ relationship in their eyes. Albeit, sometimes one or both were frustrated with their predicament, they still managed to work through it and continue in their blissful dream a bit longer.

The question “How long could this possibly last?” hung silently in the air, always unspoken but appearing as a look or even a gesture between them. It couldn’t end just yet, MC was sure of what she wanted. She wanted Richard for as long as they were both happy… or as happy as a phantom and a human could possibly be. Their relationship heavily weighted on emotional support between the two. Richard was her rock in any situation, happy or sad. They grew together and learned how to comfort one another with their words and fill the other's hearts despite touch and warmth being out of the picture.

Tonight's idea, however, could hopefully change their relationship in ways they’d only imagined. He made it known that an ability of his was to find himself in her dreams most nights. It took concentration and effort, but when he took the time to do so, he was able to witness her dreams as if he were part of it. MC rarely remembered her dreams, but one fateful night, when she’d gone to bed well past 3 a.m., she had a short lucid dream that caused something to change. She could see him clear as day, entirely human. She’d woken up, of course, and hugged her pillow tight as they both excitedly recounted their experience. They needed to try that again and for much longer than a few measly seconds.

When dinner was over, she entered her nightly bath. She poured copious amounts of lavender salts, and other calming herbs, to help aid her body in an easy and deep sleep.

Once she was dried off, she rubbed moisturizer over her parched skin and changed into a comfortable silk nightgown. Revisiting the parcel on the table, she peeled it open and removed three dried flowers.

“Starting out strong?” Jackdaw smiled from where he floated above the table.

“I don't want to risk it not working…” She added the fragrant flowers to a teapot and closed the lid.

“We have all the time in the world,” Richard reassured her. “We can try this every night, spirit willing.” He chuckled.

“And body willing,” She started a boiling pot of water on the stove. “I fear lucid dreaming may not be as deep of a sleep as I need… but I don’t rightfully care at the moment.” A grin split her face as all the possibilities filled her mind. They could be anywhere in reality and of their own creation bound only by their imagination. And, hopefully, they could do anything within those dimensions as they saw fit.

“You’ll care when your work suffers the next day.” He moved to the table and looked down at the book that started it all ‘Lucid Dreaming, The Induction Method.’ It was full of recipes and techniques to induce lucid dreaming in those who were unable to do so or didn’t have time to train their minds to do it naturally. The most promising method was making tea out of the Blue Lotus flower. It was known for causing Lucid dreaming and also a mild hallucinogen if taken in large doses.

“Depends on how good the dream is, I may have no regrets whatsoever.” She shot him a playful wink and brought the boiling kettle to her teapot and filled it slowly, making sure not to splash. “You don’t sound very excited.” She accused in a playful tone. She knew Richard well and his tendency to keep people, things, or ideas at arm's length until they proved themselves worthy of his time. This idea was no different. He wouldn’t be truly bubbling over with excitement until it was proven that it could work in the way they’d hoped.

“I am ecstatic, Darling. I assure you.” He gave her a small bow of his head. “I apologize if I don’t come off as such…”

MC watched the clock, waiting for 5 minutes to tick by for the petals to steep, as instructed by the shopkeeper.

“It’s alright, Dear. I know, in your phantasmal heart, you’re practically leaping for joy.”

With that, Richard's mood rose. “You’re smile is contagious as ever. Your excitement is my excitement. Tonight, we will meet each other in your dreams.” He reached out to caress her face, hand phasing through the skin.

She nodded, a surefire smile on her face as she waited for the minutes to tick by.

As the petals finished steeping, MC poured the lilac liquid into a mug. It smelled of honeysuckle and an assortment of fresh-cut berries. She blew on the steaming liquid and took a timid sip. “Mmm! Not bad!” She said, taking another larger sip. The tea tasted as good as it smelled and she had no trouble taking large gulps.

Richard grinned and crossed his arms. “Well, at least it's not repugnant.”

She pointed at him as if she agreed and took a few more deep gulps.

“Don’t drown yourself, Dear.” He shook his head, laughing a bit as she downed the rest of the tea.

“I will drink the second one slower.” She assured, wiping her mouth with the back of her arm. She poured the second cup of tea and held the mug in her hands. “Shall we be off to bed then?” She quirked a brow with a grin.

“We shall,” He offered his arm as a gesture to escort her to bed for the night. She happily pretended to take his arm and they walked down the hall to her room.

“The tea is making me feel a bit hot, I'm going to keep the covers off for now.” She took a large gulp of the tea and sat it on her bedside table.

“Where shall we try to go?” Richard floated through the room to the unoccupied side of the bed. “The book said, focus on a place until you can visualize it and allow it to build around you in your dream.” Richard sat on the bed next to her weightlessly.

“I was thinking, something as simple as just our bedroom?” She gestured to the familiar space. “I can easily visualize this. If this works, we can go to more complicated places next time.” She yawed, fluffing her pillow as she rested her head on it.

Jackdaw reclined back against the headboard with a wistful gaze. “Shall I sing you to sleep?” He jokingly offered.

“Oh god, no.” She laughed and lay on her side, facing him. “If I wanted to listen to a goose strangling itself, I’d go to upper Hogsfield.”

Richard balked at her comment. “Alright, Alright,” He laughed. “No singing then. Maybe I can tell you a bedtime story?”

MC yawned again and blinked her bleary eyes. The hot lavender bath and the tea settling in her belly seemed to be doing the work of making her whole body relax. She gazed out her bedroom window and focused on the twinkling stars in the night sky.

“I think I will be asleep soon, my dear.” She yawed again, kicking the blankets to the side. “Meet me in my dream, will you?”

“Of course, my love. I will be there.”

His smile was the last thing she saw before closing her eyes. Her breathing was steady and soft, as her whole body relaxed. Soon, she was slipping into the land of dreams.

Darkness prevailed as her mind floated in space. There was a whisper in the distance and MC blinked into the abyss. There was nothing but the void as she slowly became conscious of her surroundings. Another sound came from behind her and she moved her head.

“Hello?” She called out, her voice feeling inadequate in the vastness of the space.

“MC…” The masculine voice came again.

“That's my name.” She said straining her eyes to try and see anything from where the voice was coming from.

“Visualize! Remember?” The voice was closer. “Visualize the bedroom.”

She was confused and let the words wash over her. “The bedroom? What bedroom?" Her mind wandered.

“Visualize your bed.” The voice was right behind her. She spun again but no one was there.

The longer she was in that space, the more memories flooded into her head. She knew that voice. “Oh… right.”

“Remember? The tea? You’re dreaming.” Richard’s voice rang out from all around.

“I’m dreaming!” With her realization, the ground beneath her faded and she was falling. It didn’t feel scary to her, it was exhilarating as the butterflies swarmed in her tummy. She smiled and began to visualize her room. She pictured the bookcase in the corner, the lamp to her right, and the window showing off her small garden on the left.

Soon swirls of blue began to move around the edges of her vision. Her falling slowed to a hover and her room began to form around her. She visualized the navy blue bedsheets and the fuzzy plush carpet, her ceiling with one exposed wooden beam through the middle.

Before she knew it, she was standing in the middle of her familiar bedroom. Things were off, like a candle stick instead of a lamp. The bookshelf was empty instead of filled to the brim with collectibles and knickknacks from her adventures.

A knock came over the door and she flinched. She walked over curiously, feet sliding over the plush carpet as her heart raced. Who could be trying to enter her bedroom this late at night?

“Hello? Who’s there?!” She asked, hand squeezing the bronze knob.

“It’s me, darling.” Richard's voice was muffled by the door. “I-...” His voice trailed off. “It’s your boyfriend.”

Her mind snapped into place. Oh, she was dreaming, and she was lucid! Very lucid! She lifted her hands to her face and made fists. She had all 10 fingers and toes. She was MC, and this was a dream she induced herself. “Ha!”

She swung the door open and smiled at the man on the other end. He was devastatingly handsome, standing several inches taller than herself. His brown wavy hair was perfectly styled. He wore clothes that were several years out of fashion as he clasped his hands at his waist.

“Boyfriend?” She grinned up at him. “I didn’t think we had a label.”

Richard’s features were twisted with emotion as he reached out for her. “Would you like a label?” He asked, stepping closer and finally, finally, touching her face.

MC’s chest squeezed as she closed her eyes allowing the first feeling of his warm touch to wash over her. “Oh.” She bit her lip to stop it from quivering as he caressed her cheek. Not a single chill down her spine, nor an icy prickle on the back of her neck.

His hand moved through her hair and he looked every bit as misty-eyed as she was.

“Your hair…” He let it fall between his fingers “It’s so soft, like silk.”

She cupped his face, brushing a thumb under his eye. “You’re eyes are such a pretty shade.”

A warm smile grew over Jackdaw's face, his dark lashes fanning as he looked down at her hands cupping his cheeks. “I’ve never gotten that compliment before having brown eyes.” His voice wavered with emotion.

“There's a hint of gold flecks in the center…” She added, moving closer to take him into an embrace while still gazing into his eyes. They wrapped their arms around one another, pressing their foreheads together. Richard's hand ran up and down the center of her back, gliding along her silk night dress.

She drank in his corporeal features, very solid, and very vivid. His skin was pale, and smooth, with a single thin scar dashing through his right eyebrow. She smiled and lovingly rubbed the tiny blemish with her thumb.

He drank in a shaky breath “I just want to hold you for as long as I can.”

The bed springs creek under their combined weight as they settle into the mattress. Finally, Richard was able to occupy the empty space meant for him on their bed.

MC giggled, feeling his arms wrap tight around her and their legs twine together.

“It worked… it actually worked.” She whispered, unable to wipe the smile from her face. She played with a piece of his dark wavy hair as his large hand splayed over her stomach.

“It worked… I-I can’t even describe how I’m feeling at this moment.” His eyes looked between both of hers and then down to her lips. “I never want this to end…”

“We have all night…” She answers, leaning in closer to his face.

“I long to feel every bit of you, my love. I don’t want to stop until I’ve memorized every inch of your body.” He leaned in as well, taking a breath before pressing his lips to hers.

There it was, the spark… The spark she’d always known was there between them, waiting to be ignited. As their lips met in a new angle, fireworks went off in her heart. It was a profound understanding, a soul-deep knowing, that they were weaved for one another by something much greater than their minds could possibly imagine.

Richard's hand moved to hold the back of her head, holding her into his searing kiss. His brows were knitted, and she wondered if being here like this took more concentration than he’d previously led on.

“Richard,” She pulled away, worried he might disappear from the dream entirely if they kept on, but his lips slammed back into hers in an instant.

“I can’t stop, I’m addicted.” He spoke between kisses, slipping his tongue past her lips. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted since I met you.”

She welcomed it, wrapping her arms around his neck as he moved to hover over top of her. If he wasn’t concerned, she would not bear the worry as well.

His weight, his precious weight, pressed against her as his soft lips captured hers over and over. It wasn’t long before she was drunk on his kisses, sighing and breathing heavier than before. This was much better than the countless times she’d envisioned this moment.

His hair brushed her cheeks as he moved his lips down her jaw to her ear. He tugged on her lobe gently, nibbling over the cuff of the cartilage.

“Ah…” She let out a pleasurable noise.

“Hm… sensitive ears?” He whispered, running his tongue along the outline. “Let’s see what else I can get away with.” He teased, kissing his way down the curve of her neck.

She gasped when his lips lightly sucked the skin. “Oh… thats nice…” Chills rushed down her arm.

He moved to kiss her shoulder, lips quirked into a small smile. “I want to know every part of you that makes you gasp, my Darling. So that I may kiss every one of those parts over and over until you are breathless and wanting.”

A sense of pride came over her realizing she made the impossible possible again. She wasn’t sure she’d share this new knowledge with others. Would there be many people who would have the need to touch someone who's long since departed?

His hands moved along her frame, touching every inch of her as he promised. He met her lips again while his hand squeezed her thigh. “Must I ask?”

“No, keep going.” She answered confidently. "And don't stop."

Smooth hands inched their way up her night dress and her heart hammered away in her chest in anticipation of his next move. Her hands moved up and down his back, gently rubbing and caressing him as their tongues mingled.

Their actions were that of two lovers separated for too long and finally coming together at last. Richard’s hands had not stopped, pushing her night dress up until her stomach was exposed. He broke the kiss, eyes connecting with hers. She felt weightless in the wake of his gaze, a look of adoration and starvation riddled his features.

“I love you.” He whispered, his warm hand cupping the side of her face. “I love you more every minute of every day and fall head over heels for you with every smile you give me.”

“Richard…” She swallows the lump that is growing in her throat. “I love you too, and in all things. I love and desire you the most.”

He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners of the expression. “If I could grow old with you, I would. And if you want to live out a life with me in your dreams, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

They were both smiling now, hugging one another and squeezing tight. She memorized the full sensation of him in her arms, the weight of him pressed against her chest, and the softness of his waves tickling her skin.

“I don’t want this night to end.” The words Richard spoke hung in the air.

“Me neither.” She pulled back, pushing his hair out of his face. “I’m actually curious about some things…” She admitted.

“Such as?” His brow quirked playfully.

“I want to know what you like.”

Understanding washed over his features. “I want to know what you like first.” He kissed her jaw then her neck and that spot on her ear that made her squirm.

She laughed, but the sound quickly turned to a gasp when his lips latched onto the skin and lightly sucked. The thin strap of her nightdress was easy to slip down her shoulders. He stopped kissing her. “I want this off.” He indicated the night dress with a tug.

She nodded eagerly. He sat back on the bed, unbuttoning his shirt while she easily slipped the silk dress off and tossed it to the side. He stopped before he got to the last button and raked his eyes over her nude frame. Swallowing thickly, he pushed off his own shirt and moved to kiss from her neck down to her chest. His hands joined his expedition, moving to cup her breasts just as his lips found their way to them.

She touched his pale skin, nails scratching at his back the more pleasurable his mouth felt on her breasts. He took his time, his tongue sliding this way and that, moving in every way possible to find the one that made her moan the loudest. He was studying her body, needing to know precisely how she liked it to use that to his advantage.

Her fingers twined in his hair, pushing him gently to urge him to go lower. Not much else was needed to make Richard move lower. He was eagerly kissing a trail down her body to make it to his goal.

This was a new side of Richard she’d never seen, of course. Something swelled in her heart watching his never-before-seen actions play out in front of her. There was only so far fantasies could go, but they would never tell you the nuances of the situation. Before this night, she would have never known how his kisses left fire in their wake. How he hummed in pleasure after making her moan. Or how soft his tongue’s touch would be once he found her clit.

She fisted the sheets, legs trembling on either side of his body. Richard rested on his stomach, using both hands and his mouth to please her. One hand caressed her thigh, keeping it open enough for him to get close enough to pleasure her. His other hand ran up and down her slit, gently touching and caressing her most intimate parts while his lips and tongue focused on her clit.

His soft hums and delicate licks sent sparks through her body. It was easy to get lost and forget this was all one big lucid dream. The tea had made it feel extremely real. If it wasn’t for the small nuances that were different in the room and the fact her ghostly boyfriend was now a solid man, she could have easily been fooled into thinking this was reality. She tossed her head back wishing this could be her waking life as well. She was quick to bury that wish, replacing it with just being grateful for the opportunity they were given.

His finger slid inside her entrance, slowly moving in and out. She grabbed a fistful of his hair and held him there, silently begging him not to stop. Waves of pleasure washed over her skin. She wondered if this was how it would really feel or if the dream was amplifying the sensations. Her stomach muscles clenched, preparing for an eminent release. The excitement her body felt having her ghostly boyfriend now physically touching her built the pleasure faster than she was used to.

Before long, his two fingers were curling inside just how she liked it causing her back to arch off the bed. She moaned his name and he rewarded her with faster movements and gentle sucking. That was all she needed to skyrocket over the edge. Her body came alive. The room blurred before becoming solid again. She focused on his tongue placement, the feeling of his warm hand rubbing her thigh and on his other hand with two fingers stroking her inside while the orgasm rushed through her.

Once the release ended, Richard took his time kissing up and down her thighs. Her heart rate started to come back down slowly, but he remained low, kissing every inch of her skin. After a time, he made his way up with a trail of kisses, wavy brown strands tickling her skin as he did. It wasn’t until he got to her mouth that he spoke again. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” She replied. It was a breathless exchange as the couple turned to face one another side by side. His trousers were discarded along with any shoes and socks he’d been wearing. She kissed him passionately, hoping the sun was still hours from rising.

Richard’s hand smoothed down her back until he met her thigh. With a gentle pull, he hooked her leg over his waist and moved in closer. As their lips met in a passionate kiss, her fingers ran through his hair. She was still so surprised by how saturated the color was. His usual faded form washed out all his color making it difficult to visualize what he had looked like when he was alive.

It was slow and gentle the way he pressed inside of her. She felt full in an instant and grasped at his shoulder. He paused, gazing at her for a long moment. “Are you okay?” He asked, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

She nodded, forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Yes, yes.” She kissed his pale shoulder, trailing her lips to his neck. “I am perfectly fine.”

She felt him shudder when her lips trailed over his neck. She kissed the shell of his ear and noticed his breath catch. It was a delight learning all these new things about the man she’d been sharing her life with for years now. Her lips met the curve of his jaw before capturing him in another heated kiss.

Richard’s hand grasped her backside, bracing her body for his thrusts. Their moans of pleasure were muffled by one another's lips. He didn’t lose control, and, instead, went at a slow steady pace. The two’s skin began to grow clammy the longer they made love in her dream. She wondered for just a moment if her skin in the outside world was just as warm. His body, his voice, and his passion all washed over her and soon she was unable to think of anything else but how real this moment felt between them.

They lay like that for what felt like hours. The tea doing its job of keeping her deep in this lucid dream with her partner. The dream didn’t start to fade until the sun was already well into the sky. It poured into her room through the window overlooking her small garden.

Her focus faded from the dream and back into her lit bedroom. She rubbed her eyes with her hands and let out a yawn. Her lips instantly curled into a smile, and a profound sense of fulfillment and joy filled her chest. Her nightstand was decorated with her familiar lamp and abandoned cup of tea from the night before. She glanced over at the bookshelf that was now full again with all the knickknacks she’d acquired over the years. She was sure she was back in the waking world once again.

She turned over on the bed and noticed Richard’s translucent form resting next to her. His back was against the headboard, arms crossed and eyes closed as if he were sleeping. She could only imagine just how much concentration infiltrating someone's dream could be, let alone being an active member of it.

She swiped her hand through his form and he immediately roused, uncrossing his feet. His eyes fluttered open and a bigger smile than she’d seen in a while was plastered on it.

Despite not being able to hug him at this moment, she felt closer to Richard than ever. They easily slipped into a conversation about how the experience felt for them and what they’d like to try next time. Not even an ill word from her mother could wipe the smile off her face. Even if the whole world was against them and their unusual relationship, at least she knew that their love transcended the boundaries of life and death. Where there was love, there was a way, and nothing could take that away from them.

She would treasure every moment with him, in waking and in her dreams. There was nothing they couldn’t do despite it being unconventional. She thought about how they could arguably do more than a normal couple could making her deep sense of love feel even more nurtured and reassured. Nothing could keep them apart. Not time, nor space, nor death itself.

#richard jackdaw #richard jackdaw x mc #richard jackdaw smut #smutober 23

93 notes · View notes