≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @hellhunted_
Fingers are tangled into hounds hair, tugging at it somewhat needing, hungrily- there was a certain desperation in movements as he clutched at locks. Coarse, rough, before hands instead slid to cup at jaw. Pipped with stubble and tanned, nails dug against the skin as lips crushed against immortals over and over again. ' Ig...Ig.... 'breathless sounds, perched in the others lap. The makeouts had been innocent at first, both of them still fully clothed, though avian was half hard and grinding against the others pants now that things had gotten more intense. ' I love you... '
the bird had always been such a good boy, listening and doing anything and everything the older had told him; and even the things he didn't, things that were solely written upon scarred visage. even now, as he'd coaxed the other to crawl into his lap with little more than a simple curl of fingers, had him smirking, all smug.
at first his touches were faint and feather-soft, barely ghosting over pale skin as he teasingly tugged at shorts, toyed with lover's shirt. the grin against naoto's own lips was unmistakeable and sure to be felt, teasing in the way he nipped at pale lips and only caused the falcon to want him more, when the amount of attention he was getting now was barely sufficent. it made him chuckle; a noise that was quick to be swallowed by the over-eager boy, in petulant hopes of getting the demon to take it seriously.
" i know, i know, " he cooed softly in response to the repeat of his name, first a bit demanding, then a bit more desperate once larger palms had tightened their hold onto slender frame at last— gripping hard at hips and yanking the youth down against his own, further accentuated by the way he leaned much harder into any subsequent kisses, as if trying to take over control, but... just barely so. just to give the bird exactly what he wanted— or was there more? " mm? " a quiet hum, eyes narrowing and head tilting a bit as they briefly separated for air. his own features were a tad flushed from the lack of oxygen— but they could not compare to naoto's own, pulling forth yet another sadistic grin.
hands wandered lower yet, thumbs hooking into the band of shorts, pulling at them somewhat clumsily, like they were in the way, while the rest of his claws dug into ass, enough to leave behind red marks. a pull to spread cheeks in some measure of underlying desire.
" i love you, too, pretty boy, " he murmurred back, voice low and raspy, caught somewhat in his throat as he nipped at tiers, pulling them between sharpened teeth before trailing southwards, licking along jaw. wandering maws were a temporary thing, quick to return to lover's own mouth time and time again, to silence any possible complaints— verbal or not, he knew naoto had them, if he wasn't getting exactly what he wanted.
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Your thoughts on the prolific author Jean Plaidy? Did you read any of her books? Do you have favorite/most hated? What do you think about her view on the Tudors, Boleyn's, Yorks, Stuarts, Hapsburgs, etc?
I have found them very dull, paint by the numbers, etc. Honestly I find most of the novels from that era of that era that way, though, it's part of why I can't stand Weir's, hers just feel like a complete emulation of Norah Loft's which are also that way for me. I feel like newer authors of the genre are more likely to take risks, even if all their creative decisions are not my favorite, I can respect that (Suzannah Dunn, Christopher Rae, etc).
To be more specific, as a Henry VIII Enjoyer, these novels miss the mark for me. He's always very one-dimensional, sadistic satyr meets bluff hail-fellow-well-met, extremely pliable and easy to manipulate; it's just very boring and not satisfying to read.
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Drawing parallels between Bruce's grief over Jason and Heathcliff mourning Cathy. The destruction of self and everyone around them, the guilt of feeling responsible for their death and being haunted by it every waking moment.
The same comparison can be made with Cathy and Jason if you really dig in to it, the two being complex characters who are so full of life and passion that they can't help but leave a lasting mark on everyone who meets them. Despite the pain Gotham caused Jason, he still loves it and is drawn to it and is almost the very personification of the city, much like Catherine has the very spirit of Wuthering Heights within her.
'Why am I so changed? Why does my blood rush into a hell of tumult at a few words? I'm sure I should be myself were I amongst the heather on those hills' Jason's return to Gotham almost reflects the same sentiment as this, he's trying to return to the person he once was, return to a time where he was happier without the anger and trauma he carries now.
Both stories show how easily love and hate can get twisted, how love isn't always positive, that sometimes it can be a destructive, obsessive force. It would be better for them to let the love go and move on, but instead they'd rather watch the other burn, because love is misery and if they do not suffer- is that really love?
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