#nobody does it like Nine and Rose

[heliomanteia]

I looked at how they depicted Olympus in that last episode. You know, trip to Olympus. Percy's biggest whoa! in the entire book. Then I went back to reread description from the TLT book and:

From the top of the clouds rose the decapitated peak of a mountain, its summit covered with snow. Clinging to the mountainside were dozens of multileveled palaces-a city of mansions-all with white-columned porticos, gilded terraces, and bronze braziers glowing with a thousand fires. Roads wound crazily up to the peak, where the largest palace gleamed against the snow. Precariously perched gardens bloomed with olive trees and rosebushes. I could make out an open-air market filled with colorful tents, a stone amphitheater built on one side of the mountain, a hippodrome and a coliseum on the other. It was an Ancient Greek city, except it wasn’t in ruins. It was new, and clean, and colorful, the way Athens must’ve looked twenty-five hundred years ago.

&

My trip through Olympus was a daze. I passed some giggling wood nymphs who threw olives at me from their garden. Hawkers in the market offered to sell me ambrosia-on-a-stick, and a new shield, and a genuine glitter-weave replica of the Golden Fleece, as seen on Hephaestus-TV. The nine muses were tuning their instruments for a concert in the park while a small crowd gathered-satyrs and naiads and a bunch of goodlooking teenagers who might’ve been minor gods and goddesses. Nobody seemed worried about an impending civil war. In fact, everybody seemed in a festive mood. Several of them turned to watch me pass, and whispered to themselves.

Well...

Does this look like a colorful Ancient Greek city to you. This is not even Ancient Greek architecture.

It's on screen for exactly 6 seconds before we cut to Zeus' domain, which looks like a boring platform with a number of similar-looking stone-cut thrones. That's it. That's the entire "daze" of the show.

The entire place is empty too. There's no one but Percy. There are no muses, or minor gods, or demigods, or literally anyone there.

They drained the fun out of Mount goddamn Olympus.

P. S. I'm just reminding you that the TLT movie Riordan hates with such burning passion made MO resemble Athenian Parthenon. Like it's still gloomy as hell but it looks Greek:

#🏛️ #....does Richard know how Mediterranean architecture looks because it was not Greek not Roman not even Iranian or Egyptian. #Did the cultural erasure series culture....erase... again... no way. #Okay enough for me <3 #pjo show crit #pjo tv crit #pjo spoilers #🧍‍♂️ #pjo

[myymi]

i want to talk about the paradox prism for a minute because it's really interesting to me

[everything below is purely speculation / headcanon - please don't mistake it for canon. beware of spoilers for sonic prime part 3]

similar to the master/chaos emeralds, the paradox prism has a level a sentience. not anywhere close to the same level as the emeralds, but there's still something there

the chaos emeralds tend to set up a line of dominos to cause a future event (ex; sonic taking tails under his wing and learning to become more responsible from it)

the paradox prism doesn't do anything close to that, but it does share something with the master emerald; it holds memories

the prism was able to create more versions of the people it saw based on the emotions it saw them project (tails, knuckles, amy, rouge, and eggman)

the different shards / shatterspaces are made up from other major events. whether from this timeline or another is different for each shatterspace

new yoke was created from the group's frustration with sonic + an ending where eggman's almost won (i believe this could be pulled from the events of forces, considering the enforcers)

i think the reason new yoke is the only shatterspace to have a version of eggman is because it's the only one that makes sense to have one

it's pretty well known by now that eggman will need a helping hand if he wants any chance at taking over the world

the only thing better than an evil genius is five evil geniuses, right?

the new yoke group are, as i said, everyone's frustration

nine is frustrated with his past. reminiscing about his tormentors brings him more anger than pain, and living in solitude definitely does not help

rebel and knux are frustrated by the loss of their home (and the egg council in general). having watched their home be destroyed was more heartbreaking than anything at first, it eventually grew to an anger that spurred them on to fix it

rusty is frustrated with those who disobey/fight against the council, but her anger eventually ends up directed towards the council for the way they used her.

i could go more in depth about the new yoke group, but this post is gonna be long enough as is wefoefwof

the shard being red could simply be because that's the color that represents anger, but i'd like to think that-going back to forces-it was a bit influenced by the phantom ruby/infinite as well

no place is formed by the underlying sadness + a devastating event that permanently changed the world (chaos' rampage)

im not connecting no place to chaos because of the fact it's flooded, im connecting it because of the way the stories parallelled

chaos' rampage begun when pachacamac attempted to steal and harness the power of the chaos emeralds for his own gain

dread seeks out the 'devil's ligthouse' solely to prove he is a legend, nearly killing his original crew trying to do so

both protagonists of these stories are selfish and caused destruction for their own gain

dread's, well, dread comes from his failure of proving himself to be the most feared pirate to ever live.

him failing to collect the shard caused him to believe that he truly wasn't a good pirate, leaving him to spiral into a life of cowardice.

the rest of the pirates' dread comes from their longing to be actual pirates.

because of his failure and cowardice, dread now leads a peaceful crew. they don't do any 'pirating', which leaves much to be desired

they enjoy the parties and all, but their true fun comes from being pirates, which dread deprives them of

boscage maze comes from the protectiveness surging between everyone + a world where harmony between enemies is possible to achieve (possibly comes from a timeline where eggman simply doesnt exist, leaving mobius to grow peacefully)

boscage is the shatterspace with the most life. it's full of all kinds of plants because nobody there is destroying it (intentionally, anyways)

thorn rose is protective over birdie and the green. she does what she can to protect both, even if it means hurting people she once called friends

keeping the jungle and birdie safe is her #1 priority, and nothing will ever change that (that's not to say something else can't join them in being her priority)

the scavengers are protective over their belongings and, no matter how strangely they show it, each other

gnarly was nervous when sonic touched his house, immediately turning aggressive to make sure he wouldn't damage it

instead of hiding the berry, prim showed it to the others for a chance they could all share it

instead of running off on his own, mangey let the scavengers follow him as he sniffed out the berry (+ him fetching the one that fell off the treetops, showing it off to the group)

hangry allows mangey to crawl around him, which we can assume means it happens a lot off screen as well

they stick together and cover each other's backs, no matter how hard the fight gets

while we don't know what this shatterspace was before it turned into the grim, it's pretty safe to assume that it was apocalyptic

who or whatever used to live here is long gone. the only thing standing are the purple crystal things.

my guess is it's a timeline where eggman won. he won, and the world died out because he ruined the ecosystem from building so many machines.

while purple is usually associated with royalty or mystery, it's also associated with power, ambition, peace, and independence

whatever happened to the world before the grim, it's very probable that it was out of high ambition with a need for more power. eventually, the world found its peace and is now independent

ghost hill is the blueprint. the time before sonic & co. make their mark on the world. a blank canvas.

maybe a timeline where they don't get a chance to make their mark on the world

yellow is a very light, energetic color. the feeling of happiness at the chance to create something new and fun.

ghost hill and the grim don't have much in terms of characters and design, but i think the colors of their respective shards give us plenty of information about them

the paradox prism is nothing like the chaos emeralds, but is also just like them at the same time. it's powered by pure chaos with no sort of indication on how it was created or why it has the powers it does

i wonder if eggman knew what the prism was exactly or if he only knew that it was powerful

did he know breaking it would cause the world to shatter? did he know how may memories it holds? how many lifetimes it's lived?

i also wonder if the prism knew sonic would shatter it, and that it was already preparing the shatterspaces; hence why it glows brighter

maybe it understood that sonic is a hands-on learner. maybe it knew he needed to experience the lessons first hand, needed them to-quite literally-slap him in the face

maybe it knew they all had their own flaws that they needed to be aware of. maybe it lived through the timeline where sonic never shattered the prism.

maybe the prism planned to be shattered by someone so it could share its memories. maybe there was some sort of pull that told sonic it needed to be shattered.

#long post #this might actually be a mix of me analyzing the prism and the shatterspaces #but thats fine #this world is very interesting to me #sonic the hedgehog #sth #miles tails prower #sonic #knuckles the echidna #amy rose #rouge the bat #dr eggman #sonic prime spoilers #sonic prime #paradox prism #myyhcs #world building my beloved #miles nine prower #rusty rose #renegade knucks #rebel rouge #knuckles the dread #batton rouge #sails the fox #black rose #thorn rose #prim rouge #mangey tails #gnarly knuckles #hangry the cat

[man049]

After finally getting around to watching Kill The Moon I was very much surprised, pleasantly in fact.

While the abortion metaphor is 100% a valid reading you can make of the story, I don't buy it being the true conflict and message of the episode. Knowing that apparently Peter Harness didn't intend this to be an abortion metaphor, I can let it pass as what is probably a writer's political views subconsciously leaking into the script.

Judging the story literally and not metaphorically. It's about choosing if it's right/worth to kill an innocent being to save the lives of many.

This is literally the trolley problem.

Then you remember that this episode works as a sort of prelude for Mummy On The Orient Express and the true intentions of this episode come to light.

This is a story about having no "good choices", about taking risks when you aren't sure what's going to happen.

Clara is put way more in a bad light than what most people say. Clara is left speechless and with no counter arguments to what Lundwik argues and concedes to letting earth decide. When she finally pushes the button it was clearly a sudden and irrational move.

Clara outright says she didn't know what was going to happen, that she wasn't planning to press the button. Clara didn't make this choice because of knowing what was for the best, she did it because she couldn't bear the weight of intentionally killing an innocent being. She gambled, she took a leap of faith and it paid off.

Beyond the choice itself. Another big aspect of the episode is why The Doctor put Clara in this situation.

The Doctor is lonely. Everybody knows that. But even when companions are close to him, he still feels alone because there's nobody in the universe like him.

He can relate to some, but there's always a thing or two getting in the way (for example Time Lords being dead). So he craves, he strongly craves for someone like him. When The Doctor is asked why he wants to rehabilitate Missy a big reason he gives is the fact she is the only person somewhat similar to him.

The Doctor desires someone he can relate to so badly it makes him want to redeem the person who destroyed 1/4 of the universe.

And now in an adventure with her he finds a situation in which they have to decide if they are willing to stop the birth of a living being to save the lives of many? That sounds familiar.

Just like Nine brought Rose to the future so she could also experience what it's like seeing your planet explode and be the last member of your species, Twelve put Clara in this situation so she could experience what it's like to be the one who makes the big choices.

The Doctor all the time makes decisions that affect the lives of many. Decisions that most of the time he isn't sure if they will work. He risks it all every day. It brings him a lot of pain but he feels forced to do it because he thinks no one else can. He always has to save humanity because he thinks none of them could do what he does.

This... Sadly brings out the uncomfortable truth. Which is that The Doctor does look down upon humans. Don't get me wrong, he adores them, he would give it all to be like them. But he is aware that he considers himself superior to humanity, which is a side of him he (usually) tries to keep in check.

Humanity is for The Doctor what animals are for humanity. We love animals, we admire what they can do and even envy them in some areas, but we still don't consider them as capable, as intelligent as us.

This side of The Doctor can be seen as far back as the first episode of the revival. Calling humans stupid apes, and describing them as a species on it's first baby steps. Because of it, he wants them to be better, he knows how amazing they can and will be and wants them to achieve their potential.

What I'm getting at is that he feels like he is the only one who has to make the big choices, he feels alone taking that burden. But at the same time, he likes it, he enjoys taking these decisions, and he would be more than pleased to have someone right by his side taking them as well.

This is about nurturing Clara into becoming something greater. In his eyes, this means stop being a little human and grow to be the tiniest little bit similar to him.

All of this makes me remember that one moment in The End Of Time Part 2.

The Doctor said humans look like giants, he never said they look bigger than him.

#ramblings #doctor who #nuwho #12th doctor #the twelfth doctor #clara oswald #whouffaldi #whouffle #twelveclara #kill the moon

[rachetmath]

Pyrrha: Hi you must be Alyx.

Alyx: Yes.

Pyrrha: Well I just want to talk to you about something.

Alyx: I mean sure but what-

Pyrrha: Not what. It’s who. You know Jaune Arc?

Alyx: I mean y-

Pyrrha: You know the Rustud Knight? The one you betrayed? Who you poisoned?

Alyx: Well I can- *attempts to run*

Penny: *blocks her path*Nope. All attempts of escape are at zero right now.

Alyx: You can’t be serious.

Penny: As the current generation would say," Oh yes bitch. Try me."

Alyx: Okay I may have wronged him a little bit.

Lewis: A little? You completely poisoned him.

Alyx: Lewis you are not helping.

Lewis: At least like Jaune I was trying. But you never listen.

Alyx: Look I understand but what’s the big deal? He got back to Remnant.

Pyrrha: Why?! Why did you do it?

Alyx: I mean… well… I… um….

Pyrrha: Alyx, understand, you have two deadly women on both sides of you. If you don’t give us a good explanation well…. I guess we’ll finally see if you can fall from heaven.

Alyx: Well I saw this vision and I didn’t like it.

Penny: Understood, what was the vision?

Alyx: Um… I *whisper* don’t remember.

Penny: You what?!

Alyx: I don’t remember okay?!

Pyrrha: What vision? Who’s vision?

Alyx: I don’t know. The writers didn’t give me anything. I saved him though. That counts, right?

Pyrrha: No. He just survived.

Penny: Plus your ‘help’ could give him problems down the road.

Alyx: Like what?

Me: I mean the fan base speaks for itself. I mean the guy hasn’t been in Remnant for years it’s going to be kind of hard for him to readjust. Not only that he has to recover from years of isolation, PTSD, trauma, and because of you he might as well also be having trust issues. Not only that he had to leave another friend behind. You and the Ever After might as have shattered him

Alyx: Oh Oum.

Pyrrha: Yeah. Oum can’t save you. Penny.

Penny: Way ahead of you.

Alyx: Wait you wouldn’t hurt an innocent black child right?

Pyrrha and Penny: ………..

Me: Alyx you heard the saying, “Equal rights equal fights.”

Alyx: Let’s say I don’t.

Me: No matter your race. No matter your sexuality. No more matter your gender or age. You made a choice to do what you do. And as a result of said choice you must face said consequences. Weither they be good or bad. Basically you may be a kid but you were grown enough commit murder. And as such-

Pyrrha: You have this coming.

Alyx: *crying* I’m sorry. I just wanted to home. Jaune had no idea how. So I did what ever took. And then the Cat betrayed me and I died. Please? Don’t hurt me!

Summer: Come now ladies. I know you’re both upset but-

Pyrrha: Ms. Rose! Shut up!

Summer: I’m sorry? Who are you talking to?

Pyrrha: You are a nobody. You have been irrelevant for a while now. You left your daughters and died. Your daughter ain’t shit. Your team is still disbanded even after you died. You might as well be an afterthought at this point.

Summer: Said the girl who’s only job was to run away.

Pyrrha: I went out in a blaze of glory. I proved myself. What the fuck have you done?

Summer: Um.

Penny: Friend Pyrrha I know I have no rights to talk.

Pyrrha: Damn straight. You suffered more than myself. All you had to do was live. Instead, you traumatized my man. He just got over me too. Why would you do that?

Penny: Okay, I’m sorry. But, he’s going to be fine now. Let’s just let her go. And we pray he gets better.

Pyrrha: Fine. You're lucky Alyx.

Alyx: Thank you. But I am sorry.

Pyrrha: Shut up. Oum damn. If this story continues he better get stronger and kill Cinder. Because this is stupid. I mean how much trauma does one guy need? How he is not a villain? I mean, come on, he can’t be like Yuji, he doesn’t have skills like that.

Penny: Well friend W-

Pyrrha: If you say her name I will end you.

Summer: Okay woah, it’s been nine volumes why are you mad about this?

Pyrrha: One; he deserves better. Two; I prefer your daughter or anyone else than her. Three; she’s fucking useless. And four; it took him being an old man for her to start liking him. Fuck that bitch.

Summer: Well like said, if you stayed alive then-

Pyrrha: If you stayed alive maybe Qrow would have stopped drinking. If you stayed alive maybe your baby daddy wouldn’t be in a state of depression. Maybe if you stayed alive you could help your daughter learn how to control her eyes and be less useless in fighting the Queen of Grimm.

Summer: That was uncalled for.

Pyrrha: Move along side character.

#rwby #jaune arc #rwby alyx #penny polendina #pyrrha nikos #summer rose #qrow branwen #weiss x jaune #weiss schnee

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle - jjk | four

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - smut, a lil dirty talk over text, titwank, lil spit, lil degradation, lots of praise <3, handjob, showers, vaginal sex, (1) reference to you up?, jungkook cums 3 times in this one, the oc.... does not. CURIOUS. jaykay is soooo smitten :( Busan is proposed!! oh how our throttle couple luv busan <3, the angst is about to go from a 2 to a 6, jk is the pied piper, jk and cc play the desperation olympics, and they both lose!! namjoon is the worst (calls the oc a sket (twice!))

word count - 10.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

"Look what the cat dragged in," you smile, all big and bashful as soon as you see him.

It's been a little while; too long, you think. Different schedules and busy personal lives have kept you apart - but none of the distance ever matters. It always melts away with one flash of his pearly smile, which he often tries (and fails) to contain around you. 

"I wish," he groans, flopping onto your sofa. You're on the floor, typing away on your laptop, indifferent to the way he just lets himself into your apartment. It's been this way for a while now. "Haven't been near pussy in ages."

You gag, as if he's your brother or something. "Shut the fuck up, Yoongi."

He's dressed down in a pair of jeans and a shirt two sizes too big for him, but you can smell his laundry detergent from where you're sat. He's made an effort.

"You started it," he snorts, eyes not on you, but on your television. It's playing some muted drama that neither of you care for. He knows this, even when he asks you, "Whatcha watching?"

"Dunno," you hum, as predicted. "Just had it on for company."

Yoongi nods, understanding the desire.

He does it too; leaves the television running just so that he doesn't have to be alone with his thoughts.

Things are better these days. He's not as scared as he once was. It's been a couple of weeks, and after all, time heals. Eases. Pacifies.

Yoongi asks what you're doing, and pretends to be shocked when you tell him you're stalking. 

"Who is it this time?"

"Just a guy."

"It's never 'just a guy'."

It's morbid, the curiosity that Yoongi forces himself to endure. It's like your nails have a grasp around his heart, and with every beat of it, they sink further into the muscle. The more attached he becomes, the deeper the pain runs.

You don't realise quite how profoundly his blood turns green. He's good at feigning indifference; good at pretending like it is just a crush.

And so he asks questions because he wants to hurt himself a little bit more. Wants his heart to ache. Wants to feel the discomfort he so closely associates with love. It's reached a point where he thinks love has to hurt, otherwise, it's not real.

"Since when has a guy ever been more than just a guy," you toy back. None of your past lovers have ever lasted too long. You doubt Jungkook will, either. Just the way the cookie crumbles.

"Since you fall in love at the drop of a hat," Yoongi smiles. His eyes are slightly clouded, the sombre vapour of burnt-out desire smoking in them.

"I've never been in love," you retort a little too quickly.

It's not a lie, but it makes way for the admittance of something else instead:  you just love the attention that comes with men fawning after you.

And so you let Yoongi think that you have the capacity within you to love, because you fear that the love he has for you is conditional; transactional.

You just have to trust that the intentions behind acts of love are pure. You have to trust.

This issue with trust is that it's earned, not owed; and nobody has ever earned your trust. Never. Serpents lie beneath roses, and you'll be damned if you pick one either way, 'cause if it ain't a fang, it's a thorn that'll get you instead. 

"Anyways," you hum, not wanting to dwell on the topic. All of your searches of Jungkook's name have garnered minimal results, nothing of which you can be sure relates to him. Now, you need a distraction and Yoongi is as good as any. Your knees click as you stretch out, and Yoongi winces at the sound, before you plonk yourself down on the sofa next to him. "What shall we order for dinner?"

There's a howl of wind sneaking between the cracks in your window panes; a stark reminder that winter is still here, and it's still as bitter as ever. Like the river you walk across on a near-daily basis, your heart will take a while to thaw.

But as with all seasons, winter will mollify; and perhaps so will the ice chains that wrap themselves around your warmest muscle. Maybe. The way Jungkook hugs around your chest when he takes you from behind already has the ice weeping in the dark of night. You think it's just some kind of placebo effect. Best not to get carried away with sensation. 

Yoongi says something, but you're not listening. All you can hear is the soft splatter of water dripping from the ice; right down onto the chime that's oscillating in your stomach again. Fuck.

Across the street from your apartment complex sits a black SsangYong. It lurks in the shadows; silent, sinister, stalking.

A curt snap echoes through the car, as Namjoon breaks a Pepero stick in half, much to Jungkook's annoyance. 

That's literally not how you eat them, he seethes internally. His nostrils are a little flared, and his eyes are hard as they stare out the window and across to the stairs that lead up to your entryway. It has a plain end for a reason.

Namjoon knows this, obviously. Doesn't care. Can sense the way it's getting under Jungkook's skin, so he does it again.

"No point in us being here," Jungkook eventually huffs, channelling his disdain into something - anything - that isn't how fucking annoying Namjoon is. It's been nearly an hour.

"Whoever owns that heap of shit has to come out, soon," Namjoon says of the Mini parked outside of your apartment block. He mutters under his breath for what must be the millionth time, "Fuckin' Ajumma's car."

"It's a John Cooper Works," Jungkook says a little flippantly. He's not impressed, not by any means, but he knows it isn't something to turn his nose up at. Might look like the kind of thing his mother would have loved, but it packs a punch. Limited edition, factory-grade. One of only two thousand. A mean little beast that'd give his Pony a run for its money, even with the mods.

"Okay? Tell Mr John Cooper that it's still an Ajumma's car," Namjoon shrugs. He doesn't give a shit about imports. They're all weak in comparison to the homegrown beauties he likes to drive. Jungkook could argue for days that he's wrong, but Namjoon simply wouldn't bother to listen - so what was the point? "Anyways," he continues, snapping another chocolate coated stick. It's about now that Jungkook wishes Peperos would have sharp ends so that he could stick them in his ears. "Either the fucker who drives it comes out now, or he says inside and carries on railing the sket until the sun comes up. Doesn't matter which. We've got a car to keep tabs on."

"You don't know he's fucking her-"

"We've both seen her," Namjoon scoffs, mouth half full, a little biscuit dust puffing out from his plump lips. "He's screwing the absolute fuck out of her."

"What does that even mean?" Jungkook's nose really is upturned, now. "You're just being vulgar for the sake-"

"Oh, give over. What was the first thing you said about her?"

"I-"

"Prissy bitch," Namjoon imitates. "Stick up her ass - pretty good ass though."

It almost makes Jungkook laugh, because while his former self isn't wrong (he thinks your ass is a gift from the Gods), he knows that it's your tits he could worship all day long. 

If it were him in your apartment, he knows he'd be doing just that. Praising you; Worshipping, devoting, revering. He's never believed in God, not really. Never prays, never looks to the sky and mumbles words of desperation; but when he's beneath you, he finds himself beseeching. Imploring the man in the sky to let him feel the way that he feels when he's inside of you forever. Sometimes he wonders if you must be what heaven feels like. Knows he'd sacrafice himself for it. For you.

In theory, at least. Fears if he tells Namjoon this, he'll have to experience it in practise. He's not ready to, not yet. Just in case he's wrong, and he really does lose the closest thing to heaven that he's ever known.

"I just think we're going to an awful lot of effort for this," he deflects. "The more we know about this girl, the more variables we have to consider, and the less likely it is that we can actually get this shit done."

"We knew less last time," Namjoon says without skipping a beat. He knows this game better than most. Knows that it's imperative that they resolve the mess they made in the gas station as quickly as possible. "And look at where that got us - beating up some fuckin' dude who didn't have a clue what was going on."

"You didn't have to go so hard on him."

"I did. You know I did."

Silence resumes, and remains that way until Namjoon whacks Jungkook on his chest with the back of his hand a few hours later. His attention is diverted from his phone, which drops to his laps as his neck almost snaps to look in the direction of your apartment.

You're laughing as you walk down the stairs from your entryway. Jungkook thinks he can hear you. 

He can't. He just remembers. Know the way it almost sounds like you're hiccuping when you start struggling to draw more air into your lungs, too happy to focus on keeping yourself alive.

Your body leans into the guy you're with, and there's an ease to the way you are together, one that has Jungkook feeling all uneasy. He adjusts in his seat - earns himself a hiss from Namjoon for being 'distracting' - and tries to focus on anything but the way you pull the guy in for a hug. It's not necessarily anything more than platonic, but it's not the hug of a stranger, either.

"It's him," Namjoon's voice is low, barely a vibration between his lips. "Guy from the gas station. Sket is shitting where she eats." He laughs. "Un-fucking-believable."

Jungkook says nothing. It's a little hard to speak with the weight of the world crashing down on your lungs, though.

Instead he simply nods, and reaches for his phone.

꾹: i gotta see you.

꾹: think i'm going crazy without you.

You don't reply until you're inside, clearing up the remains of the food you'd shared with Yoongi.

You: i'm not a therapist :/

꾹: please.

You: my place or yours?

꾹: mine.

When Namjoon asks who Jungkook is texting, he lies. 

"Just Jin. Says if we have a visual on the driver, we're good to go."

"Good to go?" The question is asked an octave or so higher than Namjoon's usual deep drawl, surprised at such an instruction. "Thought we had to tail?"

Jungkook shrugs. "Change of plan. Says Kang ain't around to report to, so it doesn't matter what we do."

His lies will catch up with him eventually, but not today. 

Today, Jungkook gets to pretend like everything is okay for just a little while longer. He's lucky that Jin trusts him enough to get the job done. He won't ask questions, will just know that whatever reason Jungkook had to lie will be worth it in the long run. He's a good worker, part of the team. He'd never intentionally sabotage them.

Or at least, he was a good worker. Was part of the team. Was never one to sabotage. Was one to play by the rules, and always win.

But Jungkook is playing games with trick dice, now. Rolling doubles every single time. He's gonna be the first to reach the exit line, but he's gonna reach it alone.

"Alright," Namjoon sighs, starting the engine up. The lights from his headlamps flare in front of the vehicle, flooding the desolate road. It's always quiet around these parts after it hits midnight.

A little off the beaten track, your place is on the backstreets; somewhere inconspicuous. Somewhere easily hidden. Concealed. The daughter of a politician disguised in breadline poverty. 

Jungkook kind of hates that he knows where you live.

Not because he doesn't want to know, but because you haven't shown him. You've always gone back to his. He wouldn't suggest anything else, for fear of being caught without reason down around your side of town. There are only so many times he can lie about late-night boxing sessions without someone catching on.

"What a waste of an evening," Namjoon huffs a little more. He's a smart guy, smarter than Jungkook and probably every other fucker who congregates at Old Kang's place, but he's credulous to an absolute fault when it comes to the fuckers he runs the streets with. Would never betray a single one of them - not even Jungkook.

"It was past your bedtime, like, three hours ago. Consider yourself lucky that you got to stay out and play for this long," Jungkook ribs. 

See, Namjoon's partner doesn't like him staying out so late. They worry. Blow up his phone, not to control, but out of concern. They've seen the dark side of the business that the boys are caught up in, and don't want that darkness to stain the colours of the man they love. 

It's a mean jibe, and between close friends, it would have been funny -but the pair of them haven't laughed together in weeks.

Not since Jungkook fucked Namjoon's younger sister.

He hadn't meant for it to go as far as it had, but she was keen and he was horny. What's a boy to do?

They'd been in the same year group at school, so it's not like it was the most absurd pairing in the world. Never been friends, not really, but knew each other well enough that they always managed to strike up a conversation after a few drinks.

She was always hanging around the bars the boy went to, and Jungkook had been letting his hair down; one last night of freedom before he had to knuckle down and start the job Kang was assigning them.

He'll never admit it, but your assumptions about him on the first night you met were right. The KNJ on his phone was a FWB turned far too clingy: Kim Naejeon.

Needless to say, Namjoon hasn't exactly been Jungkook's biggest fan since he found out. Such is life.

Jungkook's phone buzzes in his lap, and he's relieved to see two little c's on the screen where the message ID is.

You: time?

꾹: just on my way home.

꾹: lemme send a taxi to yours.

Sat on your floor again, laptop open with your last search - jungkook, daegu, pony - on screen, you find yourself deafened by the chime in your stomach. It rings like the theme to a studio ghibli film, all pompous and ridiculous, and warm and lovely. 

You sound like a banshee, squeaking with badly handled excitement. The shrill noise that escapes your lips as you throw your phone onto the sofa is borderline psychotic.

You never get like this over a boy.

You don't actually think you've ever squealed over a boy before, but one small act of chivalry - the bare minimum - has you doing somersaults.

It's funny, because it's not like he's the first guy to ever suggest sending a taxi your way. Unlike all of Yoongi's offers, though, you accept. You play it all cool and coy by simply sending him through your address, not like he needs it.

꾹: on its way.

꾹: i can't wait to see you.

You're not really sure how to deal with such a declaration. It's needy and pathetic and if it were any other boy, it would have you throwing up in your mouth - but it's not just any boy. It's him. 

You:  someone's a little desperate.

You don't have it in you to play nice, even if your grin is wider than the river behind your apartment block. Jungkook doesn't expect any less. In fact, he smiles when the message comes through - and quickly stiffens his cheeks again, not wanting Namjoon to make a comment.

꾹: desperate? 

꾹: i'm not sure this is a game you want to play, CC.

Oh, how wrong he is.

You:  i love games.

The double-entendre isn't lost on him, but any ability to not let you affect him is. Blood pumps around his body faster. Harder. It rushes, almost, with a single destination in mind. Makes him adjust ever so slightly in his seat, his spare hand coming to rest between his legs. He used to think he had self-control, but you're constantly surprising him. 

He's learnt more about himself since he met you than he has in years. Realised that he isn't maybe who he thinks he is. Doesn't dwell on it, though, 'cause he enjoys the way it feels when the crotch of his trousers gets tighter.

꾹: i only like them when i win.

You:  i only ever win.

꾹:we'll see about that tonight.

You: oh?

꾹: see who really is the desperate one.

You:  its you :) x

The taxi arrives far faster than you expect, but Jungkook is pleased when he checks the app and sees the car en-route to his. He takes a note of the number plate and the registered driver. Doesn't trust the drivers around here. They're too fast without enough skill, he always thinks. Has lost count of the number of busses he's seen rear-end asshole taxi drivers. Luckily the roads are dead at this time of night, but he'll be damned if anything happens to you.

꾹: sure about that?

꾹: i know a few ways to get you a little desperate.

You:  you don't know shit.

꾹: i know you get a little desperate when my hand is round your throat.

You: bullshit.

꾹: i know you get incredibly desperate when my fingers are in your mouth.

You:  your fingers have never been in my mouth.

It's a lie. Of course it is. It's kinda become rare for the two of you to fuck without them being in your mouth at some point or another, whether it's to clean them off or just to give him a visual of just how devoted you look when he does it. He loves it and so do you.

꾹: no?

Jungkook almost ignores Namjoon as he asks, "what are you smiling at?", only to tell him that it's none of his business, lowering the brightness of his screen and clicking through into his camera roll.

He's a visual guy. Likes the things he can see. Tangible stuff. The photo that comes through to your phone has you flustered.

It's just the lower half of your face, and Jungkook's distinctive, tattooed hands in your mouth. There's a sheen to your lips. His fingers, too.

It's alarming how quickly you've become so comfortable with him. You barely know the guy. Shame that the alarm bells are always muted by the chime in your stomach.

You: must be some other girl ;)

꾹: told you already, CC.

꾹: i'm not interested in any other girls.

꾹: i only wanna see you.

When a picture of your legs, crossed and poised prettily in the back of the taxi, comes through to his phone, he's pleased. You're wearing tights. It's one of his favourite things a girl can wear - though he's not really sure why. He just loves how soft they are, how smooth they feel against his skin. Has him thinking about running his hands up and down them, and the way he knows you'll be looking all smug when he does so.

You:  i'll see u soon x

You:  desperate ;)

Jungkook thinks about locking his phone. Thinks about leaving you hanging. Thinks about the fact it will probably put you on edge a little if he doesn't reply - but he's weak. Knows that not replying will just put him on edge instead.

꾹: will it make you feel better if i admit it?

You:  yes.

꾹: fine.

꾹: been thinking about you since the moment you left my apartment last.

꾹: impossible not to when my fucking pillows smell like you.

꾹: think about you when i smell gasoline at kangs.

꾹: think about you when i stop at red lights.

꾹: also think about how fucking wet you were the last time we stopped at one.

꾹: i'm at a red light right now.

꾹: god, i gotta fuck you.

You:  told you you were desperate :) 

꾹: i am.

You:  how do you want me tonight?

꾹: naked.

You:  that goes without saying, no?

꾹: naked and begging.

You:  i don't beg.

You: not for any man.

꾹: c'mon, CC. a little reciprocation goes a long way.

꾹: you got me on my metaphorical knees.

꾹: be nice of you to get on yours.

You roll your eyes as the taxi rolls to a stop downtown, just by Jungkooks place. It parks on the wrong side of the street, but you pay it no notice. Chalk it up to a GPS error on the app.

You:  i'm pulling up to yours now. you home yet?

꾹: not yet. be about 5. let yourself in. code is 0901.

There's a casual intimacy to the way in which Jungkook trusts you with his door code. It's an act of convenience, not anything to read too much into, but you're a creature of habit. Assumptions are your bread and butter. If there are conclusions to be jumped to, you're getting your pole vault out. Setting a new PB. Going for the world record.

So no, it doesn't have to mean anything. You know it probably doesn't - but you indulge in the 'what if' just for the hell of it.

His apartment is cold, the ondol off, one of the windows cracked open ever so slightly to let the air out. Winters are dry round these parts, and Jungkook has an odd paranoia around developing black mould in his apartment. It's not unwarranted - he's pretty sure his last place made him sick because of it. Knows for certain that it made his mother weaker before she passed. Refuses to let history ever repeat itself.

You're unaware of this, though, and slide the window shut. It's the height of winter, and he knows damn well if he's gonna get lucky tonight that it's gotta be a little bit warmer in his apartment.

You take a moment to refamiliarise yourself with his place. There's not much. A little furniture, some prints you recognise from the market downtown up on his wall. There are no personal artifacts, though. No more clues as to who Jungkook really is. You'll have him naked tonight, granted, but you won't have him naked. He won't be vulnerable; laid bare.

But you're not exactly gonna complain when you have him bare in the other sense.

In fact, you think you much prefer it this way. It'll be easier to let him go when the time inevitably comes.

You toss your coat on his desk chair and your shoes are kicked beneath it, not caring much for neatness. The rest of your clothes follow suit, and then you're waiting, all desperate and pliant, just like he asked for. 

Though you're not one to beg, you're aware of how nicely he had requested - and how hot and bothered he had gotten you en-route to his place.

There's a thrum in your chest, and it beats to the same harmonious melody that the chime in your stomach produces.

Back straight, feathers smoothed, you're a songbird waiting for someone to hear your call. It only takes a few moments, the beep of Jungkook's keypad echoing through the door as he punches in the code adding a new layer to your song.

"Hey," he calls through, his voice muffled slightly through the sliding partition doors. The glass is frosted, but you can make out his silhouette as he kicks his shoes off by the door. "Just been on a job. Emergency at an office building downtown. Some bad wires. Tripped."

The lies roll off his tongue like butter in a hot pan. They sizzle. Spit. Burn you and scar you with the portrayal of a man who isn't who he pretends to be.

Thing is, Jungkook is exactly who he pretends to be.

He really does get too hot in the night, and genuinely does find videos of kids falling over far funnier than he knows he should. His hair sticks up on end when he wakes up, and he loves his car more than life itself. The way he winces after taking shots, and his dimples, which form in moments of contemplation beneath his cheeks, are entirely natural to him.

None of it - none of him - is a lie. At his core, Jungkook is the idea in your head; the yellow of midafternoon sun before it sets.

He's the amber light that flashes before fading into red. 

That's his issue, though. Inevitably, he will always, unavoidably, turn red.

Jungkook likes to tell himself he's not a bad person. He just does bad things, occasionally. But don't we all?

Yeah, the voice in his head would rationalise. But bad things are sneakily not paying for plastic carrier bags at supermarket self-checkouts, or failing to tell a friend they have food stuck in their teeth. Not petty violent crimes and conspiracy to-

"Took your time," you flirt.

It takes him longer than he'd like to get from his kitchen and to where you are, his laces proving to be a bit of a bitch when he's in a hurry. He's dressed down, a pair of light wash jeans clinging to his thighs for dear life, a baggy grey sweater hiding that itty bitty waist of his.

You find yourself smiling, his presence bringing more than just the promise of satisfied desire.

It's dangerous how you can't hear anything other than the chime in your stomach whenever you see him. Might deafen you one day. Or maybe you'll hear it so often that it will just fade into white noise. Not a favourable outcome, not by any stretch of the imagination.

"Holy fuckin' shit."

You tilt your head and feign confusion, as if you don't know why he's salivating like a dog being offered a bone. You're on your knees, as requested, palms flat on the tops of your thighs; not naked, but you may as well be. A lace red set leaves little to the imagination, one of his flannel shirts draped over your shoulders to keep you warm - but also 'cause he seems like the kind of guy to eat that shit up.

So while you're right where he wanted you, as he struggles to form a coherent sentence, he's exactly where you wanted him.

Finally, he finds a few words.

"Desperation looks good on you, CC."

Arrogant son of a bitch, you think, but there's a grin on your lips that you just can't hide. 

"Mmm," you flirt, not caring to drag things out. You want him so badly that hard to get seems like a dumb idea. "Maybe - but I think you'll find I look better on your dick."

His shoulders pull up towards his ears, head dropping as a small laugh vibrates in his throat at the boldness of such a statement.

"You're not wrong - but I like this," he says, closing the space between you. His voice is soft, as one of his hands cups your cheek and angles your jaw upwards so that you're looking directly at him. His thumb traces your bottom lip, and - almost like you've been conditioned - your lips part for it to rest on your tongue. "I like this a lot."

Your lips close around it, tongue massaging his thumb as you slowly suck on it.

It's gentle, and warm, and - fuck - he's spent so long thinking about the way your mouth feels but it never compares to actually experiencing it. Your lips vibrate as you hum, satisfied with the effect you seem to be having on him.

His lips are parted, eyes void of all thoughts, as if you've bewitched him. Maybe you have. He wouldn't put it past you. There's something dark behind your eyes, something he doesn't quite understand. Something he knows better than to let himself study for too long.

Jungkook's room is dark, the glow of his fairy lights dousing him in soft reservoirs of gold. The light from his kitchen pours in behind him, his back to the clouded screen door, a halo circling around his darling blonde waves. Your eyes must be betraying you, you think, 'cause there's no way a man this heavenly exists. It's impossible.

"Bet you're wet, aren't you?" he toys, voice low, a teasing grin on those pretty pink lips of his. He may look like an angel, but there's a pair of horns hidden beneath his curls.

There's no hesitation as you nod, vocalisations cut short thanks to his thumb remaining snug between your lips. Why lie? He wants you desperate, so he's getting exactly that. You think he deserves it. Think he always makes you feel good, so why not indulge him in this little fantasy? You can play desperate, if he really wants.

"Show me," he says so quietly it's almost a whisper; almost as if he doesn't believe he's asking you to do such a thing for him. It's not like it would be the most outlandish exchange the pair of you have had together, but the vulnerability is never easy. 

Never easy to ask for, never easy to give. Especially not when Jungkook is harbouring secrets that he knows would shatter the fortress walls he's built up around the pair of you. 

You're unaware of this as your hand creeps between your thighs, to where a mess is pooling in your panties. 

It annoys you just how eager you are for him. You wish you weren't; wish he had to work for it. The tips of your fingers push against your entrance, but it's all just for show - you've been wet since the moment he first messaged you that evening. 

You let your eyes fall to his crotch. It's strained, the pale denim doing an awful job at hiding how hard he is. He's been plump the entire journey home, but now that he's here - now that you're looking like that - he's solid.

He watches you, the way you move, the slight heave of your chest, and knows that you're down just as bad as he is. You wouldn't be on your knees if you weren't. In fact, you wouldn't be here, full stop.

You reach for his belt and set about getting to work immediately. His jeans are pushed to midway down his thighs, boxers following suit. The way his cock springs out of them, all fat and proud, has you salivating.

And so it's only fair that you take it in your mouth as soon as you can.

He reaches behind you and tweaks at the clasp of your bra. It loosens almost instantly, and you hum in approval of how easily he managed to do that. You let the straps slide down your arms, his cock still in your mouth as you toss it to the side.

"Between them," he instructs.

It's tempting to just do as he says. Irresistible, almost. You want him between your tits just as much as he wants to be there, but you want him more vocal. Want him begging. It's his own fault for getting you into such a submissive position. It's a flaw, the way you need to level the playing field, but one that he never fails to deliver on.

"C'mon, CC," he whispers, voice dulcet, trapped in his throat as he suppresses a moan. "Put my cock between your tits."

Your hands fall from the backs of his thighs to play with your breasts, your nipples hard and eager for him. Vibrating around his mouth as you moan, you're pleased with the grip he has on your hair. It tightens, and when he speaks, you're convinced his voice could make you cum alone, "I'm not gonna ask you again."

His cock takes a few more strokes of your hot mouth before you withdraw, stiff and flushed in front of you. He encourages you up so that you're sat on your knees, ass up instead of resting on your ankles as it had been. There's a string of your slick running from your heels to your pussy, the mess desperately seeping from you. Jungkook can't see it, isn't aware of it, so before you do anything, you dip two of your fingers between your folds to gather it up. He watches with laboured breaths.

You don't drop contact with his eyes, not even when they're trained on your fingers. He watches as you hold them up, glittering from the reflection of his fairy lights, before your tongue licks them clean. His cock jerks, the visual stimulation building his need to come undone by tenfold.

There's a little bit of your slickness still on your fingers when you pump his cock, once, twice, three times. 

"Sorry, baby," you toy with the term of endearment, the groan he exhales when you say it confirming that you need to call him sweet nothings more often. "Where did you want your cock, again?"

He's been avoiding touching your chest, not wanting to take control of the situation, but your shoulders roll back just a little, your soft mounds his for the taking. His grip drops from your hair, the tips of his fingers ghosting your chest. He runs them delicately across your stiff nipples, his touch so minimal that you feel yourself leak, pussy throbbing, desperate for more.

Resting perfectly between his index finger and thumb, your nipples are pulled ever so slightly, before he finally indulges himself and cups your tits like he so desperately wants to. He holds them together and wobbles them, obsessed with how soft they are. He edges closer, the tip of his cock nudging against your cleavage. There's a small trail of precum leaking from his tip, the sheen now coating your skin. "Right there."

Spit gathers and pools in your mouth, lips pouting as you let it drip onto your tits. Jungkook groans, his hips pushing his cock further onto your chest. You hold your tits apart, his leaking crown kissing your sternum before you angle him upwards. The soft, pillowy cushions press around his thick shaft, keeping him firmly in place.

"That's it, baby," he mewls as you spit again, this time onto the head of his cock. You drop your gaze and lower your head, tongue flat as it licks the tip, spreading your spit. His hips are jerking against you, his foreskin nestled in place, cock tugging against itself.

"Look at me," he says quietly, as dulcet as the atmosphere in his room. Your eyes meet his, as your hands firmly jiggle your cleavage. His mouth hangs ajar, brows knotted in such a way you think he looks like his mind is all tangled up. You're not wrong - he can't think straight like this. All he can think about is how much he wants to fuck you in every single capacity he can. "That's it."

You grin, but try to hide it. "You like my tits, huh?"

Jungkook wants to roll his eyes, and almost does - but then you spit again, the pace of your jiggling hands quickening, and he finds himself doubling over. 

"Fuck," he whines, completely undignified. Any strong, stable demeanour he has feigned is lost as his cock gets slippery, covered in your spit, being massaged by your tits. "Spit."

The momentum is retained, but it's getting sloppier. There's limited friction, your spit acting as the perfect lube for him to fuck your tits. He doesn't really know what to do with himself, how to withhold himself from spilling onto your chest, but he's all hot and bothered. He isn't gonna last long.

"Bed," he husks, pulling away from you, not even registering the fact he's helping you up. He just kind of does it, his mind entirely on where he wants to be. "On your back."

You do as you're told, your bare back hitting his freshly laundered duvet as your head nestles into his mountain of pillows. His legs straddle either side of your chest, movements frantic as he traps his cock between your tits once more. He's in control, the pace entirely set by him, his large hands gripping the flesh of your chest like he normally does your waist. 

"Shit," he hisses. "Fuckin' love your tits."

Your hands grip his ass, encouraging his movements, before one of them roams to toy with your clit. The change in your moans is noticed by Jungkook, who glances back to check you're doing what he thinks you are. Suspicions confirmed, he laughs. "Dirty bitch," he keens. "Love being owned by my cock, don't you?"

You pause, and Jungkook notices a look in your eyes. It's one he knows well; one he enjoys. Nonetheless, one that panics him when he's in such a compromising position, because it looks like you've just been challenged.

With a pathetic, pouty mewl, you push your fingers into yourself. It's quick, your fingers pumping frantically to build enough slickness on them to wipe the smirk off Jungkooks face.

The hand that's still on his ass squeezes, your nails indenting him ever so slightly. He hisses, a lopsided grin on his lips as he continues to fuck your chest - until the feeling of your soaked fingers stroking his taint has him stuttering.

You apply a little pressure, the pump of his cock slow between your tits. His breaths are laboured. It almost sounds like he gasping for air, unable to concentrate on anything but the sensation of you.

Brows furrowed, eyes wide, you pout. "Thought I was being owned by your cock, baby?" You tease him, and are met with him cursing you out, a saccharine smile on his lips.

"Fucking hate you," he laughs, abs shuddering as your fingers trails further up. They're stroking, caressing, toying - and they don't stop. Not until they reach the tight muscle of his that you're just dying to penetrate. He's silent now. Doesn't want to tell you that he wants it, but fuck it, he does. He pulls back, eyes on yours. There's a hint of a nod, but you're not gonna do anything too daring unless he explicitly asks for it.

Your soaked finger presses against him, cautious not to take it too far. You're still learning each other; what you both like, and you aren't sure where his limits lie.

"Yes? No?" you question, eyes earnest. His ass has never been explicitly discussed between the pair of you, but he also never ruled it out, either.

He's quiet, but smiles when he shakes his head. "Not yet, C. Another time, though."

"I'll hold you to that," you tease, curious about his desires. You wanna know all the ways you can get him off, and you think you'll be willing to do almost anything. In fact, you know you will. All he has to do is say the word, and your tongue will be wherever he wants it.

His eyes roll back, and so do his hips. "And I'll hold you to the offer."

It's a rarity, he's found, for girls to be so bold. He's always had to be the one to initiate his own pleasure, or to just finish quicker than he'd like because his partner was already done. He likes this about you. Likes that you like to fuck. Likes that you apparently, for whatever reason, seem to especially like fucking him.

It's thoughts like these - something about luck, fate - that plague his mind as he pushes his cock between your tits again. It's fast, and it's sloppy, and it's wet, and soon enough, he isn't thinking at all. All he can do is feel - your warmth, your softness - and then all he can feel is how fucking good it is to be with you.

When he comes, he comes hard. It hits your throat, coating you in everything he is. A moan catches in his throat, eyes closed, hands pushing your tits so tight together that it fucking hurts - but he's shaking, and you know that his orgasm has him unable to realise just how strong his grip is. 

It's not till he looks down at you, all breathless and blushed that he realises. There's a sheen on your chest, and he knows better than to dirty you all over again - but he's a creature of habit. His grip loosens, chest heaving as his hands begin to stroke at your tits. They fill his palms, overspill blooming between his spread fingers as he gently remedies them of his strength. It's unintentional, though not minded, how he spreads his cum as he does so. 

You try and keep a straight face, but it's impossible, and then you're both laughing. It echoes around his room like the missing instrument to the song in your stomach. You aren't really sure why you're laughing. Nor is he. You're just happy. The pair of you remain this way for a moment or so, casually enamoured with how easy things are; how easy they could be.

"C'mon, CC," he speaks fondly, but spanks your titty for the fun of it regardless. "Let's get you cleaned up."

There's a tender nature to the way Jungkook moves your body. So docile, he's a world away from the version of himself that you'd just had in his bed.

This Jungkook - the one gently pulling your hair back so it doesn't get too wet while you wait for the shower to fully heat up - is so well mannered that you couldn't imagine him cursing, let alone calling you a bitch during sex.

Something about it, about him, has you feeling far more infatuated than you should be at this stage.

You're not ready for all this. Not prepared for the way you're feeling. It scares you. Gets you wanting to grab the towel and make a swift exit - but then he kisses your neck, hands on your hips, chest pressed into your back, and you realise that there's no place you'd rather be.

He reaches out to check the temperature of the water that's steaming into his bathroom, and decides it's just right. It's not that the water is particularly hot, just that his bathroom is bloody freezing. 

Your reflection in his mirror is a vision of beauty; eyes trained on him, skin tainted by what would have been his legacy. Part of him doesn't want to wash it away. Just wants to marvel at you. Study the way your skin dimples and bumps when you're cold; then remembers that you can't cum when you're cold, so you probably aren't enjoying this as much as he is. He lifts the showerhead from its holder, and lets the water pour over you, and you alone.

The warmth has your shoulders easing almost instantly, and Jungkook feels a little guilty for having kept you cold so selfishly.

He's quiet as he rinses himself from you, contemplative dimples perching themselves beneath his cheeks. He barely utters a word for the entire shower; just peppers your shoulders in kisses.

It's not till you turn to face him, taking the showerhead from his hand and begin rinsing his body that he finally speaks up.

He takes a moment to study you first; watch the way your eyes glaze over his body, following the trajectory of the water, making sure you don't miss a single inch of his skin. Your lashes are dark, hiding your eyes from him, and he doesn't like it. Instinctively, his hands cup your jaw, bringing your eyes to his.

"Thank you."

His lips are on yours, soft, no pressure - and then they're not. They're trailing down your neck instead, as if he can't decide which part of you he wants to devour.

'All of you' is the correct answer, but he eats for pleasure, not for sustenance.

Easily, he could have you for everything that you are within a few seconds - but he wants to savour you. Wants to hear the way your breath hitches as his tongue flicks against your earlobe; feel your fingers dig into his scalp as he paws at your round ass. He wants the memory of your body in his hands, 'cause he fears you're like sand, and that his grasp won't be able to keep hold of you forever.

His bathroom is cramped, more like a wetroom, and the same grey tiles are on the walls that are on the floor. Shower attached to the sink, it's the standard for one-room apartments around these parts.

Yours is the same - but you do have the added luxury of boujie conditioners and loofas to soften the blow.

Jungkook has a 2-in-1 body wash and shampoo combo, and doesn't see the point in fancy scrubs when the labour of his job leaves his hands all rough anyway.

In your right mind, you'd moan about it. Tell him that he's such a boy, or that next time, he's coming to yours for a shower - but you're distracted by the hardness of his cock against your stomach and his hands cupping at your chest while he kisses you. The stream of water makes it borderline impossible to open your eyes, so you revel in the way it feels to be overwhelmed by everything he is.

"Again?" You mumble into his lips, to which you're met with a nod.

You slip your rings off and hear them clink against the porcelain of his sink, praying that your aim is correct and they won't end up down the drain. He hums a small purr of confusion, questioning your actions, and then groans an 'oh' into your mouth when your hand clasps around the base of his cock.

"Gentle," he reminds you, still sensitive but desperate for you once more.

His lips leave yours, head tilting back as he revels in your touch. Neither of you speak, but there's really not much to say. You'd just be making noise for the sake of it.

Regardless, there's a weight in your chest, clamping down on your lungs, that makes talking seem impossible. Might be trepidation. Might be nothing at all - but it sure does feel like something.

You marvel at the column of his thick neck as it stretches back, and think how pretty it would look covered in purple and pink, the bruise of your intimacy staining his skin just like it has done your heart.

Your movements pause when you realise you're thinking about your fucking heart. You're not sappy. You don't attribute sex to love, and the idea of even falling in love has you wanting to run for the hills.

It's been said before that the heart is just a muscle. It has no real bearing on your emotions, nor your amatory exploits.

But when the thoughts of your feelings cloud your mind with dainty pink vapours, all sparkly and strawberry scented, you can't help but feel like you're in danger.

In your chest, you can feel your heart ache.

So yeah, it is just a muscle, but muscles get worn out.

Jungkook notices your hesitation. He casts his eyes down to check you're okay. His crown rests against the wet tiles, water-saturated hair stuck to his face, lashes damp and lips all pouty. The man is a vision. Naked, bare, vulnerable. Yours for the taking, or so it seems. His eyes are heavy-lidded, deep brown; sweet as chocolate, sinful as straight whisky.

"You good?" He asks quietly, only for you to nod and pick the pace up again. His eyes stay on yours as a laboured grunt escapes his lips, brows pinching together. The way you feel around him is so good. Not too tight, just the way he likes it. Fingers all dainty, nails painted red, it's a sight he thinks about when he's alone more than he cares to admit. He's thick and hot in your grasp, working his foreskin up and down his shaft.

There are goosebumps on your skin, body positioned just out of the shower stream because you wanted to look at him; watch as you wound him up, just to make him unravel again. He pulls you closer, hands cupping your jaw as he kisses you, until you're beneath the water again.

His tongue is in your mouth as his hand drops to meet yours. So much larger than your own, his fingers clasp around yours and joins the effort, speeding up. He doesn't say anything else, but he's struggling to kiss you, now. His lips are ajar, resting against yours, little purrs of satisfaction finding a home on your tongue.

"Yeah?" You encourage a little breathlessly, as if you're the one moments away from ruin. "That's it, Kook."

He nods, as the hand that isn't on yours tangles in the back of your hair to keep you close. His hand works to increase the pace, making it a little rougher. There's a wetness between your legs that isn't from the shower, but you're too focused on him - on making him feel good, on being what he needs - to bother doing anything about it. He'll return the favour later, you're sure. He always does.

His grip on your hand loosens, leaving it up to you to finish the job. It only takes a second or two, and then you're milking him, thick white cum desecrating your hand and spurting into your stomach. There's not much, most of it spent on your chest earlier. He shudders, one of his legs a little more so than the other, his moans lost in the pitter-patter of the shower until they become nothing more than hot, heavy breaths.

And then, because quite frankly he doesn't know how to articulate how good, how fucking precious, how god damn infuriatingly beautiful you are, he kisses you again. Though his tongue is soft as it strokes against yours, his piercing is hard - much like his cock which is still firm against your stomach. He encourages your arms up and around his neck, hugging tightly. Your chest presses to his, nipples hard, tits pillowy and soft, and Jungkook swears he'll risk it all for you.

Thinks it would be worth it.

He'd do this wherever with you; in his crappy apartment, in a hotel he'll pay far too much for, in a derelict motel that hides you both when it inevitably becomes time to run.

Thing is, he knows you now. Knows you'll never run with him. Knows that when you find out, he'll never get to do this ever again. It makes him want to cry. Makes him wanna get on his knees and beg for forgiveness before you even know you're mad at him.

You don't forgive. You don't forget, either. You wouldn't be working in a shitty GS25 if you did. He knows this. Knows that as soon as the truth is out, so is he.

And so Jungkook lies. "Come to Busan with me."

Your noses are nestled together, and you can feel his words against your lips. The shower keeps on pouring, but it won't cleanse him of his sins. The water still runs red, even if you can't see it. 

"Busan?"

He nods, steals a kiss, and begins to build upon the weak foundations he's formed. "I gotta go visit home. Been putting it off. Think it'll be more bearable with you there."

You kiss him back. Partially because you want to, but mainly because you don't know what the fuck to say. Your heart rate has doubled. Trebled. In fact, you're not sure it's beating anymore.

Family isn't a subject either of you has divulged in, not really. You fear that him opening up requires reciprocation, and that's just not something you're willing to give. Not to him, nor anyone else for that matter.

"When?" You finally murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek before pulling away to slip your rings back onto your fingers.

He doesn't want you to meet his family. Doesn't want you anywhere near them - but when the time comes, he needs you to know why he ended up here. Needs you to know that everything he's done, rightfully or wrongfully, has been for them.

Doing right by them means doing wrong by you, but he didn't know you when all this started.

Didn't know that you're the type to point out every trash cat you see, or that you make up little songs to soundtrack almost everything you do (regardless of the fact you're tone-deaf). He didn't know that you drank peach tea like it's water, or that you'd somehow taste a little bit like it too. He didn't know that you'd become his favourite flavour, or that the scent of your perfume would have him hugging his fucking pillows for days after you slept over. 

He didn't know. 

Didn't fuckin' know.

And now he does. And it's tearing him apart.

He's a good liar, though, so you don't notice just how cut up he is when he shrugs and twists the shower tap off. He reaches around for the towel and begins to wrap you up when he says, "Next weekend?"

When he's like this - voice soft, skin bare, tucking the top of the towel over against your chest - it's like you've got the upper hand. There's no battle being fought between the pair of you, and yet you don't feel like equals. Feels like the balls in your court. You just don't realise you're playing different games.

There's pitter-patter beneath your feet and a chime in your stomach. You shuffle between his feet, his arms wrapped around you, lips pressing a kiss against your hair.

"I'll have to check the rota," you say, but you know you'll just ask Yoongi to swap shifts if you are scheduled on. "But I haven't been to Busan in a while. I'd like to come."

His eyes are hot as he presses them shut, chin resting on your head. You think the stutter in his chest is just a hiccup, so you smile. Without the sound of the shower, he can hear his phone buzzing, vibrating on his desk in the next room over.

"Gotta get that," he says, squeezing you before loosening his grip and reaching for a small towel that barely covers his ass. The air is cold against his skin as he opens the bathroom door. Steam gushes out of the room, and so does the hazy, cum-drunk atmosphere the pair of you had created. You miss it the second your skin begins to pebble, goosebumps chilling you, the hair on your arms stood up on end. Almost like someone's walking over your grave.

Maybe just leading you to an early one. Either, or.

You hear him as he mumbles on the phone - "Jin. Yeah? What's up? Cool, can do." - but ignore it. Steam has fogged up the mirror, creating a cloudy canvas for you to do your worst upon. It's childish, yes, but nothing stops you from drawing a little something on there to remind him of you next time he showers.

An uneasy weight sits on your chest when you look at what you've done. It's nothing bad, but part of you thinks you'll regret it - but that part of you is silent when he calls through for you. 

When you emerge a few moments later, you're casual as you ask him who was on the other end of the line. He says 'a friend,' and then clarifies that it's 'one of the boys' because he doesn't want you to think the worst. It's an answer you accept.

Dropping the towel, you're unbothered by his eyes as you spend a few moments naked. You're just reaching for his shirt, but the way you move, how your muscles flex above your bones, but the soft flesh of your curves moves without your control has him feeling all kinds of fucked up. He's never wanted anyone more; never known that it was possible to feel such a way. 

He tells himself it's just hormones. He's fucking empty, entirely spent on you. That's gotta be the reason. Some kind of primal desire type thing. 

Even he's shocked when he begins to talk.

"You can't ever leave."

It's barely a whisper, his voice small, though the weight of his words is so incredibly large. 

"Need you here forever."

It's the way that Jungkook talks in such certain terms that has the chime in your stomach ringing again. 

You're sure he must have broken a thousand hearts with words like that. You wonder if there are still girls across the city pining after him, thinking about the way his breath feels on their skin as he fucks himself into them. Wonder if the fondness in his eyes is because of you, or because he's just riding a post-climax endorphin high.

"You don't mean that," you tell him, because you don't believe he does.

He shakes his head. Senses the challenge in your voice, and smiles. "You think I'm lying?"

"Think you haven't reached post-nut clarity, yet."

"You'll have to fuck me again, then. Third time lucky."

The third time comes in the morning. 

It's still dark outside, Jungkook waking you with dainty kisses along your shoulders, his hands pawing at your tits.

"Morning," he husks into your neck when your hand goes to join his on your chest. "Dreamt about you."

"You are so full of shit," you laugh.

Truth be told, he didn't really sleep. Looked at you for far too long. It's borderline creepy, he thinks, how utterly obsessed he is. Part of him doesn't understand it, but the rest of him does. 

You're forbidden. 

He can't help but want you. 

Jungkook may be Adam, but you're no Eve. You're that damn snake. Or maybe you're the fruit. He doesn't know at this point; just knows that he's eaten it, and he's pretty sure it's poisonous.

"Am not," he grins, riding that poison high. "What did you dream about?"

He's repulsed he's even asking such a thing.

"Can't remember," you pout, turning to face him. Dreams always elude you. It's frustrating, but at least you're not having nightmares. "What about you? What were we doing? Where did we go?"

Just like him, the fact you're asking him questions like that has you wanting to die.

"Busan."

It's not a lie this time. He isn't looking at you, though, so you half think it is. 

He's just focused on the hand of his that's toying with your hair, pushing strands away from your face. The only reason he isn't looking at you is because he's embarrassed. 

"Busan?" You ask, reminded of his proposition from the night before.

"Mhmm," he nods, his hair no doubt tangling against the pillow. "You 'n' me."

Again, you don't know if it's a lie, but oh what a beautiful one it would be.

"We were on the beach," he continues. "Not really doing much. Just sort of existing."  

You laugh, eyes fond but away from his. You're looking at his hair now, too, playing with it. Mirroring his actions. Reciprocating. "Existing?"

"Existing," he says, refusing to clarify. You're distracted when you notice the way his smile brightens. No longer contemplative, he's got a dimple that only comes out when he's beaming all big and bashfully. "I like existing with you."

And so exist you do, in his bed for the next hour and a half. There's no talk of any substance and yet you're chattering for the entire time. He barely even kisses you. Just wants to hear you talk. Wants to hear your perspective on the world, and all the assumptions you make about it.

Jungkook's duvet is shitty quality. The heat it traps is minimal, but you'd take a morning beneath his sheets in the height of winter over being back at your place any day. 

It's thoughts like these that make your feet itchy. Makes you wanna run. Bolt. Head for the hills and never look back - but you're locked in place by his arm over your torso. Faint light pours in through the clouded glass of his window panes, curtains apparently too much of a luxury despite the holes in the wall where a rail once sat, and you study the dark ink marking his skin. 

There's a story to be told from reading his arms, but you haven't figured that out yet. No google search of his name could ever match the lore embedded in his skin. The tips of your glossy red nails trace the lines in awe, wondering how many people have had this luxury before you.

You wonder who sat by his side during the tattoo appointments, and who laughed with fondness as he winced in pain. Whose hand did he hold? Whose suggestions did he listen to for placements? It plagues your mind like a disease, turning the rubies in your veins to emeralds. 

Who are you, you think to yourself. And why am I feeling like this?

It's only a matter of a time - a few languid movements and a couple affirmations later - until he's fucking himself into you again. Predictable, really. Money would be wasted on a fortune teller, and yet you want to go and see one anyway just to confirm whether or not you get to keep him forever. 

Lazy and slow, the sex is just an accompaniment to the way he's kissing you. His cock is thick and deep as it fills you, but his hips are sluggish and tepid.

It's almost laughable that the sex is an afterthought. 

By its basic definition Jungkook is fucking you - but he's fucked you enough times for you to know how likes to conduct his lays. Quick, fast, to the point. Finish line in his sights.

This doesn't feel like that. 

It doesn't feel like that at all.

Even the way his kisses you as his cock stiffens and pulses, unloading itself into you isn't familiar. It's short, his stamina not back up to his usual performance, but it's so deep you think it might be fatal. Any chance you had of getting your heart out of this alive? Yeah. Good luck.

He groans into your mouth, tells you how good you feel, and presses his lips so tightly shut that it's almost as if he's scared he'll never kiss you again.

It's interesting, the way that Jungkook doesn't make you cum. Sure, the sex is good. You've enjoyed it all - but you're currently on 3-0. You chalk it up to a lack of realisation. Innocent inconsideration. 

See, his words may betray him, but he's trying to be better. Trying not to drag you further into the web of lies he's woven around the pair of you. Issue is, you've mistaken it for silk. You're comfortable. Enjoy where you are.

He thinks it doesn't count; thinks that if he's the only one who finishes, then you won't be falling for him in the way that he hears girls do. Jimin had ribbed him for it after he'd fucked Naejeon; told him that the reason she was so into him was to do with the oxytocin cocktail that had flooded her bloodstream. It's not like it was news to Jungkook. He'd always known it was a thing, he'd just never really seen the impact of it quite so severely.

The way he see's it, the less you cum, the less you care. It's flawed logic, and it leaves him feeling guilty, which is why he blurts out dumb shit about wanting you around forever. Might be true, might not be. Maybe he's the one confusing hormones for heartfelt honesty. 

But as you watch him tear himself away from the bed and head towards the shower, you realise that none of it matters. 

You've been hearing bells since the moment you met him.

They're so loud they drown out the bullshit.

"You coming, C?" He calls through, as the shower begins to splutter into action in the next room over. He appears in the doorway, a tattooed hand cupping his balls and covering his modesty. His eyes are soft, grin lopsided as the sun rises. 

It's beyond your choice as you move towards the sound of his voice, like he's some kind of pied piper.

You know he's taken over you. 

Yet still, you follow the sound of the pipe.

And whether you like it or not, you know you'll let him drag you to the river, just for him to watch you drown.

────────────

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #boxer!jungkook #mafia!jungkook #throttle #byholly #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook x y/n

[gallusrostromegalus]

Any plans for Kensei and his 69 protege Hissgi. Hated how they were like this guy inspired a background character so cool that we gave him his own light novel series but he's gonna release his very cool looking bannaí twice and you don't get to see either fight implying he lost offscreen

…No one told Kaname about their "69" tattoos.

The issue was not that anyone was trying to keep them secret. The issue is that nobody knew Kaname didn't know.

Why would he? It's not like they come up in conversation- Shuuhei's in particular is as plain as the nose on his face (kind of literally), so nobody mentions it, like people don't typically comment on someone's hair color in conversation that often. It's at the first post-Aizen moon-viewing party in Shunsui's back garden that the subject finally comes up.

Shunsui's Moon-Viewing parties are appropriately named in the sense that most of the partygoers do end up looking at the moon- often after becoming so intoxicated that they fall over in the garden and decide to stay down in the grass and admire the celestial bodies. Before that phase of the evening, things can get rowdy. While some of the party members are listening to Shunsui and Shinji grow more frustrated as they attempt to explain the Transit Of Venus to Rose and Love, who are having difficulty with the difference between orbits and rotataions, let alone axial tilt, others are laying bets with Ukitake over the Kenpachi-Vs-Everyone-Arm-Wrestling-Tournament.

"YAUGH!" Kensei shouted as his knuckles crack against the edge of the table as Kenpachi claims another Flawless Victory. "MOTHER FUCKER!!" he shouts, squeezing his hand and reddening knuckles. Lisa pokes Kensei in the back of the head as Ukitake balances out the wagers and takes his generous bookie's fee. "Why are you being a weenie, your tattoo had to hurt more!" She teases. Kaname speaks up from where he has been quietly lounging in Sajin's lap and asks "-You have a Tattoo?"

"YEAH!" says Kensei, immediately forgetting his pain at the delight because he gets to tell someone about the tattoo again. "I got it the night I became captain, to commemorate my service in the sixth and ninth divisions!"

"-And after Captain Kensei saved me and my class from a mass hollow attack, I decided that was the kind of fearless Shinigami I wanted to be, and dedicated myself to that path with a matching one!" adds Shuuhei.

He and Kensei high-five while Kaname squints suspiciously.

"…What does this commemoration and dedication look like?" he asks, a little too casually.

"I got the numbers 6 and 9 tattooed over my manipura chakra, because that service is the source of my strength!" Kensei explains.

"-and I got the same pair on my face, so I see it every time I look at myself, to remind me of my commitment!" added Shuuhei.

Kaname twitches. "You mean to tell me you both have been walking around with tattoos of the number 69 in prominently visible locations this whole time?"

"Yeah!" Said Kensei.

"…Kensei-san. Did someone suggest this design to you?" He asks, gripping Koumori's hilt.

"Yoruichi-san did!" Kensei says, too thrilled with the joy of sharing this story to notice Kaname's darkening aura.

--- In the human world, Yoruichi's teacup splits in half.

"Aw. Fuck." She sighs.

---

Kaname sighs. Perhaps it's not as bad as it seems. "You gentlemen are aware that there's a slang meaning associated- stop trying to shush me Jushiro- there's a slang meaning associated with the number?"

"There is?" Shuuhei asks, genuinely oblivious.

--- The teapot cracks into perfect sixths.

"What did you DO?" hisses Urahara. ---

"The term 'Sixty-Nining' colloquially refers to the act of mutual oral sex between partners." Kaname says flatly, Sajin halfway to grabbing his face to muffle him before remembering that Kaname is absolutely not above biting him when annoyed, and he's well past annoyed now.

There is a moment of silence at the moon-viewing party.

"-This is not an obscure bit of slang either, I'm not sure how either of you have managed to maintain total ignorance of it." Kaname frowns in the general direction of Ukitake and Shunsui, who absolutely should have shared this Fun Fact earlier.

Kensei and Shuuhei continue to ponder this revelation in shocked silence.

"Is that why people keep offering to give me blowjobs?" Shuuhei finally breaks the silence.

"Oh! because the numbers each kind of look like a mouth and a dick!" Kensei realizes in a flash of insight several centuries overdue.

"NICE!" they agree, and high-five again.

"I'm quitting." Kaname groans, despairing.

"You can't quit." declares Yamamoto from the lawn, where he has gone directly to the Moon-viewing phase of the party. "If you quit, I have to promote someone, and that means we have to have a Captain's Meeting. You remember the rule: no more than one Captain's meeting per decade."

"Ah. Yes. There has already been enough violence." Kaname nodded, recalling the destruction that followed every captain's meeting he'd ever attended. "What do you propose then, Sir?"

"Get another bottle and come join me. The moon is beautiful tonight." he waved.

"...I'll take your word for it." Kaname sighed.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfiction #shuuhei hisagi #kensei muguruma #Kaname Tousen #They both deserve a friend to be stupid with

[distortionbobble]

A Knight To Remember

pairing: knight!poc!reader (they/them pronouns used) x prince!anakin skywalker

summary: fantasy au of a certain prince and his knight, because who wouldn't fall in love with anakin skywalker?

warnings: minors dni must have age in bio to interact. anakin being a bit of a slut, fingerbanging, p in v, general smut warnings and a little bit of violence towards the end, and a really cringey pun title

a/n: this is my submission for the lovely @bizarrebankai 's 1K celebration !! so glad they got 1K, she deserves all the followers. anyways, much love to u jules for hosting this fantastic challenge! this probably isn't my best work but.. medieval fantasy skywalker? i couldn't resist myself!! and, as always, likes and comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy!

Anakin wishes he’d never met you. And it’s not because he doesn’t like you— in fact, it’s the opposite, he likes you too damn much for any of this to work. He is, after all, next in line for the throne, while you’re just a member of the king’s guard. As Obi-Wan’s ward, he was trained in every possible duty, every possible obligation and was constantly hyper aware of all that he needed to do. And suddenly you had come along, with that sweet smile of yours, showing him that his title wasn’t why he mattered. He hadn’t felt that in a long time.

But he’s promised to someone else. Padmé Amidala, princess from a neighboring kingdom, was his betrothed and had been since he’d turned nine. It was a political alliance, but at age nine, Anakin had only registered the angelic glow of his fiancee and the fact that she was supposed to be his. She, however, had only seen him as a child, and years later, he realized he couldn’t blame her. Things between the two of them had waxed and waned, instability woven into the very foundations of their relationship. She was sweet, true, but there was something off. Padme wasn’t the type to call out Anakin when he desperately needed it, and couldn’t balance him.

That’s where you differed. You were like any other knight he’d been protected by before, because you simply didn’t let him get away with anything. And you did all of it with the quietest demeanor he’d seen. He thought often of that first night that you’d guarded him; he was convinced that he’d tricked you into thinking he was asleep, and had scaled down the walls of the tower in the dead of the night to go see Padme. But instead, you’d been waiting at the base of the tower, his cloak in your hand.

“My prince,” was all you said when he stared at you, mouth agape in his confusion. “Lady Amidala awaits you, does she not?” You had outsmarted him, and it haunted him for the rest of that night.

And the morning after that, when he was certain that you would’ve reported his illicit actions to King Obi-Wan, but the only surprise that had come forth was you waiting by his bedside the next morning with his breakfast laid out on the table behind you. At first, he’d tried to throw a tantrum; shouted at you, sent every other servant running from his room, all while you stood calmly at his side, unbudging in the face of his glowering. Your unpredictability was what scared him. He didn’t understand you, and it angered him.

“Will you just tell me what you want?” He had caved, finally, as the sun rose to high noon. And you had smiled and placed your palms on the table in his chambers, leaning your weight onto it so your face was mere inches away from his own.

“I’m tasked with protecting you, my Prince. That’s not something I take lightly. But I also can see that nobody’s done the job right. I want you to be honest with me, my Lord, I am not your enemy.”

Anakin hadn’t been the same since.

~~~

“Anakin, we can’t,” Padmé gasps. Her skin is plush and soft as Anakin presses his lips against it, hips grinding against hers. She’s under him on a picnic blanket, covered by the shade of a large oak tree by the banks of the river that borders their two kingdoms.

“And why not, Princess?” He mouths against her skin, delirious from pleasure.

“Your- your guard is right there!” She giggles, rolling her hips upwards to match his movements. He’s caught in between the pendulum of recklessness and sensibility, losing himself to recklessness more and more as his hand trails her inner thighs. The summer heat makes a thin sheen of sweat on her body but she’s sweet nonetheless, pliable to his touch.

“They won’t notice,” he growls into her hair, nipping at her neck before he steals a glance at you. You’re still mounted on your horse, hand toying with the handle of your sword as you gaze over the scene. No, you’re too busy keeping him safe. You’re a damn good guard. “Let me make you feel good.”

~~~

The clip-clop of horsehooves against the road is peaceful, and the presence of you next to him is more intoxicating than the rays of sun on his skin. Anakin looks over at you, transfixed by your brown skin soaking the warm golden light as it caresses your face gently. It doesn’t make sense to him. He should want Padmé, and he does, but you’re… altogether different, and he wants you even more. Even when he was lost in the throes of passion with her moments before, it was you who he imagined when he closed his eyes.

“Is there something the matter, my lord?” You ask him coolly, gaze still trained on the road. He learned long ago that that this wasn’t some sort of tactic to offend him, but rather that you were surveilling each blade of grass with careful, suspect eyes.

Anakin hesitates. Can he even voice what he’s feeling? Part of him doesn’t want to. Part of him can’t stop himself and the words fall out of his mouth like they’ve been burning his tongue to be kept in so long.

“You’re intoxicating,” he blurts. It fazes you, your concentration broken from the surroundings as you turn to face him instead. And you remain characteristically silent, studying his face for any hint of a joke. It makes his stomach churn, even if it’s normal for you, because he just wants you to say something. Anything. But you just stare at him, a frown twisting the corners of your lips downwards, before you return your focus to the road as if he said nothing.

“D-didn’t you hear me?” He asks, confused. You nod sharply, refusing to look at him now. “Well then, won’t you respond?” A sigh flutters past your lips, but nothing else. He feels irritation and anger creep into his fingertips, crawling their way up into his heart so that it beats faster.

“As your Prince, I demand that you respond to me.” Anakin regrets the statement as soon as it leaves his lips, the haughty demand that demeans you and all that you’ve done for him. And for the first time, he sees that stoic mask of yours crack and it’s anger that he sees, anger that he never thought he’d be on the recieving end of.

“How dare you, my liege?” The honorific is tacked on with fury, but the venom you spit is unfinished. “You have the audacity to fuck the Princess in front of me, thinking I won’t notice? And then, moments later, you toy with me such, as if I cannot still see her lip rouge smeared on your lips. It astounds me, your majesty, that you’d think to do this to me. I know not of the arrangement you have with the Princess. But know this, Anakin Skywalker, you will keep me out of—“

You’re interrupted by the hollers and screams that spring from the sides of the roads. Men in loose cotton— bandits— jump out and brandish their swords.

“Fuck,” you curse, swinging your legs off of your horse as you sweep your sword out of its sheathe. Anakin’s quick to join you, metal clanging against metal as they fight the bandits; but they outnumber the two of you, and Anakin’s concentration is wavering from the fury of your rejection. It takes just one wrong step, and suddenly his sword is knocked to the ground with steel kissing the thin skin of his neck.

“You! Drop it if you want him to live!” His captor hollers out, and Anakin feels real fear, sees it in your eyes too as you swallow your emotions and drop your sword to surrender. His knees buckle from his captor kicking them and he falls to the ground with an oof, his wrists tightly bound with cloth as he watches you receive the same treatment.

“Pretty thing, this one,” one of them sneers, brutishly grabbing your chin. Anakin’s grateful that it doesn’t go further that; instead, the two of you are tossed into the back of a cart rather unceremoniously before being dragged away.

“What do you want with us?” You call out to the bandits. There’s not a sign of struggle in your body, and it arouses suspicion in Anakin. What are you planning?

“There’s a bounty on your head. Both of yours,” he answers back, clearly uncaring about the orchestrated kidnapping so long as he gets his coin.

“What are you planning to do to us?” You ask.

The bandit turns back and shoots a look that Anakin almost doesn’t recognize. A look that he’s never been on the recieving end of.

Pity.

~~~

The cell that the both of you are dropped into is dingy and damp, and Anakin can hear the mice scurrying about in the corners. You grunt softly from the force of the stone against your frame, struggling to get yourself upright in the darkness.

“This is my fault,” Anakin bemoans, bringing his head to his knees with his hands still tied tightly behind his back. “If I hadn’t distracted you, we wouldn’t be here.”

“Stop your whining. There’s something much bigger at play, Prince Anakin. And you know it.” Your words unsettle him, and he sits with it for a second.

“A bounty on both of your heads. That’s what he said. They want me and you, but why? It has to be some sort of threat to the kingdom. Eliminate us both and pin it on the Kingdom of Naboo?”

“Possible. Eliminate us both, leaves no survivors and the last witness would be the princess.”

The quiet clatter of a knife falling to the ground makes Anakin’s head shoot up, facing him with the sight of you rolling your sore wrists and wincing.

“You could’ve killed them this whole time,” Anakin realizes. You nod, then collect the knife to work on his restraints. Once he’s freed he still can’t bring himself to stand up, still frozen in his position. You rest your head on the plane of his back, placing a soft hand on his arm as you reassure him silently.

“Milord, what happened earlier… it wasn’t your fault. I apologize for losing my composure. It was unacceptable and I know that I asked for your honesty. But your majesty, you must understand my perspective,” you whisper, caressing his arm softly before you place a kiss on the nape of his neck.

You’ve never shown him such affection.

“I do not wish to be treated as your toy, your majesty. And what I wish for I could not possibly dare to say.” The words are still hushed from your fear.

“Say it.”

“I want you, Anakin Skywalker. To rule my heart as you will these lands someday. I want you selfishly, my lord, I wish to fall at your feet and to be the only devotee there.”

Anakin twists his back to face you, holding your face between his palms as he kisses you for the first time. A kiss that feels like breathing for the first time even as you steal his breath and leave him delirious. You feel more right than existing and it’s now that he realizes he’s been craving you, just you, for all his life.

“I’ll make you mine,” he whispers, bruising your lips with his own as he draws you into him, closer to him, frantically pawing at your body as he grinds you against his bulge. He leaves bite marks on your exposed neckline, marking you as his in that possessive, poisonous way that he’s been burning to do for so long. His. You’re his.

“I’ll burn the world down for you,” he promises, sliding your trousers down and leaving you just in your tunic for easy access. Anakin sinks two fingers into your heat, massaging circles into your wall as he mirrors the action with his thumb on your clit. A woozy pleasure begins to envelop him as you wrap your hand around his neck and squeeze ever so slightly, riding his fingers as you near your climax.

“Did you use this on her?” You hiss, kissing him and biting his bottom lip sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re all mine, Skywalker. Mine.”

“Yours,” Anakin gasps as you let go of his neck, undoing his trousers and pumping his shaft. You align his shaft with your dripping hole, ripping out his fingers and replacing it with his length. You’re messy and quick as you fuck him, spreading your arousal over his thighs and your own as you bounce and grind your hips, bucking furiously as you tangle your fingers in his hair. Your tongue is sloppy and flat against his own, as desperate for him as he is for you.

His thumb plays against your clit as you grind, your bones pressing against his base. You’re desperate in your chase for your pleasure, uncaring of him and it drives him mad, blood coursing to his cock as he watches you. He snakes his hands under your tunic as you fuck him, thumbing your nipples and plucking at the sensitive buds. The moan that you elicit in response makes him buck his hips up. You pull him close to you as your walls begin to flutter around him and your legs convulse, finally reaching your peak.

“I’m close,” he gasps, watching your face contort in pleasure. You’re quick to pull yourself off of him, replacing yourself with your hand and working his length until he spills onto the hay in the cell with a grunt. You pull him in for one last sloppy kiss before you pull your trousers up, pulling your daggers out of their sheathes. As Anakin pulls himself together, you pick the lock of the cell with a rather slender-looking tool. You sneak out quickly and quietly, any sound of yours covered by the rambunctious party going on elsewhere in the castle.

The sound of blood splattering on the stone walls makes him run out, where you stand above the assigned guard, crimson dripping off of your daggers. You wipe them on the dead man’s cheek, anger storming in your eyes as you look at Anakin. He recognizes that look. The lover he’d been in minutes earlier had gone, replaced with a machine of fury and steel that serves at his command.

“We’ve likely got, at most, a few minutes before they come to find us. We were probably their dinner party entertainment, so we must make it out of here. Quick,” he murmurs, signaling to move forward as he takes the sword from the guard. The two of you are quick and quiet as you make your way up the stairwell, plastered to the stone walls.

“Hey!” A man shouts, but you’re quicker than he is, silencing him with a dagger flying clean into his throat. You leave a trail of bodies and blood in your wake, making it to the great hall unscathed and silently. The two of you are molded to the shadows, power in your movements as you watch and wait for the leader to make his move.

You’re rewarded when a hooded figure stands up amidst the celebration, a silence settling on the audience as he removes his hood.

“Chancellor Palpatine,” Anakin realizes in horror, rage flushing his body with heat as the betrayal of one of the kingdom’s allies sinks in. He looks around quietly, a plan formulating as he internalizes the betrayal. He signals for you to follow him to the stables, stealing two horses and mounting them before riding them through the castle. By the time you return, the hushed confusion of the crowd indicates their awareness of your disappearance.

“Search the castle!” Palpatine bellows, the resounding crash of metal echoing in the face of his anger.

“No need, Palpatine. I’m right here,” Anakin shouts out from the entrance of the hall, kicking the sides of the horse to race through the hall and onto the table. You follow behind him, daggers flying as you kill anyone that gets in his way. Anakin’s sword quickly decapitates Palpatine, the dead Chancellor’s head dripping blood on the food of Anakin’s enemies.

“Let this be a warning,” Anakin shouts, “lest any of you get the idea that the Kingdom of Coruscant will tolerate the disrespect of its Prince or of the Prince’s Guard— if I get word of there being a bounty or so much as a wish to hurt a hair on their body, I will not rest until the earth is stained red with your blood, and the blood of your sons and daughters.”

~~~

“Do you think they’ll come after Coruscant?” You ask on the way back, the clip-clop of the horses puncturing the silence of the night. Anakin doesn’t respond, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“Whatever battles we must fight, we’ll fight it together,” he reassured, placing a kiss on your hand. “That, I promise you.”

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #star wars smut #star wars #smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x fem!reader #anakin x you #reader insert #smut reader insert #anakin skywalker #distortionbobble's fics

[we-drank-too-much-bleach]

every captain’s music taste go

ooooooooooo I love thinking about the music taste of characters!!

-Yamamoto doesn't like music but if he was forced to listen to something' it'd be 60s rock

-Soi Fon listens to country in secret and cries over love songs because they remind her of her girlfriend

-Rose is a big 70s-90s rock fan and will never shut up about it. He does a LOT of covers and knows more than literally anyone else. (he is also a Lady Gaga fan)

-Unohana listens to death metal and nu metal and sometimes softcore stuff

-Shinji is a canon jazz fan but likes hip hop and rnb stuff too

-Byakuya likes classical Japanese music but ever since Rukia introduced him to Hatsune Miku he's been fascinated by her

-Komamura listens to folk music

-Shunsui listens to the Rolling Stones /Lisa listens to the most explicit music ever (she loves WAP and thinks Closer by Nine Inch Nails is relatable)

-Kensei listens to Sabaton and indie love songs but literally nobody believes that he does

-Toshiro listens to whatever Rangiku forces him to

-Kenpachi listens to whatever Yachiru listens to (death metal)

-Mayuri listens to breakcore and merzbow

-Ukitake listens to the Beatles (and argues with Shunsui over which band is better)/Rukia is the biggest vocaloid fan ever

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

FORMER CAPTAINS WOOOO

-Yoruichi's music taste is so random that whenever she puts on her playlist everyone is like "you're a fan of them too?" and she's like "...yea why wouldn't I?"

-Urahara listens to EDM and has raves in his basement

-Isshin listens to pop music...fuckin loser

-Aizen listens to classical music

-Gin listens to 80s pop rock, Aizen and Tosen don't really like it

-Tosen listens to classical music (that's the only way he's bonded with Aizen) and lofi because he thinks it sounds nice

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

oh my gosh oh my gosh I'm sorry we haven't said anything in a moment but still this was fun I loved itttttt :D

-Meninas

I no have comment

-Giselle

#bleach headcanons #bleach #headcanon #bleach 2023 #giselle gewelle #meninas mcallon #gotei 13 #sajin komamura #kensei muguruma #toshiro hitsugaya #isshin kurosaki #kisuke urahara #yoruichi shihouin #soi fon #kaname tosen #sosuke aizen #mayuri kurotsuchi #kenpachi zaraki #retsu unohana #genryusai shigekuni yamamoto #gin ichimaru #rojuro otoribashi #shinji hirako #byakuya kuchiki #bleach rukia #shunsui kyoraku #jushiro ukitake #lisa yadomaru #rukia kuchiki

[the-muse-court]

Because I am addicted now, I'm thinking of an roleswap AU featuring Amy taking Sonic's place in the plot, with a focus on Sonic Adventure 1. Major details being:

Eggman and Professor Gerald swap places. Gerald sees himself as the good guy who wants to create a safe and just world...The only problem is, most people don't like that his idea of "safe and just" involves setting himself up as ruler of everything. Using the badnik designs his grandfather Ivo created, he plans to make a world worthy of his beloved and sick niece, Maria.

Amy is the hero with a tendency to get in the way of the Professor's plans. With her hammer in hand and a strong sense of justice, Amy Adventure 1 (proper name pending) is only the latest of her adventures, after having stopped Gerald's Death Egg (better name pending), saving Angel Island, and protecting Little Planet. Now in Station Square, she's about to get roped into something new...

Cream is Amy's "sidekick", who helped her destroy the Death Egg (much to the complaints of her mother Vanilla). Cream doesn't seek out adventure like Amy does, but her desire to protect people often means she gets involved. While her role as Amy's closest friend is similar to Tails' from the Main Universe, her part in Amy Adventure is actually closer to Main!Amy's, as she meets a chao (who she names Cheese) fleeing with a special pendant from a dangerous badnik. Soon, she has to protect this little chao when nobody else will.

Rouge the Bat is the guardian of Angel Island, the last of the bat clan that has protected the Master Emerald for so long. Unlike the Main Universe Knuckles, who takes to his role rather well, Rouge is...frustrated with her job. She's dedicated to protecting her home and the Emerald (the latter of which she adores), she would never abandon her post, but ever since meeting Amy Rose and getting to see a small piece of the outside world, she wants more. When Chaos is unleashed by Professor Gerald and the Master Emerald is shattered across the region, she sees this as her chance to explore and get a taste of what the world is like. And if she can steal a few precious gems or neat toys? All the better.

Sonic's role is, oddly enough, closer to Tails' from Sonic Adventure 1. He works closely with Amy to stop Gerald and gather the Chaos Emeralds. He has a confusing relationship with Amy; she saved him when he was captured by Metal Amy back on Little Planet, and the two have a fairly close friendship because of that. That said, Amy's crush on him makes him uncomfortable, and it makes them have trouble working together sometimes. It's an issue they're working to get over. (Additionally, Amy and Sonic are both the same age for this AU.)

Tails takes the role of Big, with a little inspiration from Nine from Sonic Prime. Tails never met Sonic growing up, so he's more reclusive and less certain that he can trust others. From his workshop in the Mystic Ruins, he's created a robotic fox companion--the Prower Prowler, meant to be a pet as well as a bodyguard. But when the Prowler absorbs energy from Chaos and steals Tails' Chaos Emerald, the young loner is forced to find it--and maybe learn to trust others in the process.

Emerl is Professor Gerald's finest creation--a powerful robot capable of helping him gather the Chaos Emeralds to empower Chaos. A one-of-a-kind robot of a different kind than badniks, Emerl is very simple in thought, but will grow as time goes on. As Gerald's chief enforcer, Emerl must decide what he wants to be as he starts to learn and change, and whether or not Gerald has his best interests at heart.

I'm actually working on writing this AU as a fic, though it still has issues. Sonic feels like he needs a more concrete role and focus, for example, but generally I think this can be a really fun AU. Now to just finish the first chapter.

#sth #sonic the hedgehog #amy rose #emerl #cream the rabbit #rouge the bat #miles “tails” prower #AU #alternate universe #fic idea #courtly musings

[theautisticgamer]

How Sonic Prime is a Refreshing Take on Multiverse Stories

It might be easy to overlook and pass Sonic Prime simply because it’s milking on the latest story-telling trope, the multiverse. But this would be a mistake. Sonic Prime is great and a fresh take on the multiverse, and here’s why.

While Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse had critical acclaim, Wildbrain Studios wasn’t content with the idea of making a Sonic copycat of that movie, instead changing a key aspect of it that sets it apart from not only Spiderverse but the way the multiverse is portrayed in media as a whole.

In Into the Spiderverse, the very first two minutes make it very clear that New York City and its safety revolve around Spider-Man like how the planets of our solar system revolve around the sun. Because this world revolves around Spider-Man, the story tells what it means to be Spider-Man by comparing different Spider-Men and Spider-Women from across the multiverse. While Sonic Prime uses this story-telling formula, it turns it completely on its head.

Sonic’s world usually revolves around Sonic, and Sonic seems pretty used to this (the battle between his friends and Doctor Eggman for the Paradox Prism seemingly doesn’t start until Sonic arrives unintentionally yet unapologetically late). However, when Sonic enters the Shatterverse, he doesn’t exist in any of the Shatterspaces (multiverses) naturally, instead he hops between them all. The people he considers his friends/enemies exist in their own lives without him. Sonic means nothing to these people before his arrival, and Sonic means little to them by the time he leaves. Time will also significantly pass as he hops between the Shatterspaces, with nowhere and nobody waiting upon Sonic's actions, which is the complete opposite of the show's opening battle in Sonic's universe. Instead of the world and Sonic’s friends revolving around Sonic, Sonic is revolving around his friends and their worlds.

Likewise, instead of the show focusing on what it means to be Sonic the Hedgehog, Sonic the Hedgehog is learning more about what each of his friends brings to the table. And honestly, that’s pretty important considering Sonic’s supporting cast seems to get thrown under the bus more than any other supporting cast I’ve ever seen. People often complain about how some of these characters are annoying, or that Sonic’s supporting cast is too large. Previous Sonic cartoons like Sonic X and Sonic Boom are partially to blame for this public perception as they mostly focus on Sonic’s coolness and fail to flesh out Sonic’s supporting cast. It’s unfortunate, because Sonic’s supporting cast is probably more supportive than in most series, with each character bringing something special to the table.

But back on topic: Sonic is learning what makes each of his friends special, and more often than not they do this by robbing these characters of their special traits. Miles “Tails” Prower is reliable and trustworthy, but one version of Tails, named Nine, is unreliable and untrustworthy because he’s been too hurt by others to understand trust. Amy Rose is empathetic and has strong verbal conflict resolution skills as a result, but a version of her named Thorn Rose does not have these skills and resorts to actions that hurt her friends as a result. Knuckles is fearless and never gives up, but a version of him named Dread is cowardly after failing a dangerous mission and he gives up on his goals.

Even more interesting is how different Shatterspaces may focus on taking away different strengths of the same character. While I already mentioned Tails’s reliability being paralleled by Nine’s unreliability, Tails’s sharp mind and advanced technical skills are absent in another version of Tails named Mangey. Likewise, Amy is not limited to her empathy but also has compassion, which another version of her named Rusty Rose lacks, making her a dangerous foe.

Even though the show focuses on other characters, this doesn’t mean Sonic doesn’t get character development. Quite the contrary. Sonic usually has to attempt to teach his former friends the skills they used to have, and this is difficult for Sonic to do since these skills aren’t his personal strengths. This means Sonic is forced by his circumstances to broaden his horizons in order to overcome the conflicts at hand.

Sonic also learns hard lessons of his own based on his flaws. The first arc shows how Sonic’s failure to be responsible resulted in his universe breaking into the multiple mini-universes that are the Shatterspaces, and when Sonic realizes this mess is his fault and not Eggman’s, he has a moment of deep reflection that really resonated with me. Sonic also is overconfident in his leadership skills in the last arc of the first 8-episode wave, which ultimately endangers the safety of his friends, and to resolve the issue Sonic humbles himself and puts leadership back into the hands of someone else and is willing to humbly obey orders for the greater good of his team.

This may be my favorite Sonic series simply due to how well they are doing character development and character introspective. (Of course my opinions are not limited to that, I adore Sonic Prime’s high quality animation and choreography, and Deven Mack may be Sonic’s greatest voice actor yet. This show is a wonderful experience!) I am excited to watch more of Sonic Prime in the future, and I hope my observations about the show inspire others to give this show a try.

#sonic prime #sega #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic #Netflix #cartoon #videogame #Spiderverse #Spiderman #Multiverse #Story-telling #video games #new show

[juneberrie]

ILLEGALLY LOVED leo valdez

summary: leo forgot your anniversary and it seems like he's disappeared off of the face of the earth...

pairing: leo valdez x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst to fluff, pretty cabin neutral, light swearing

lizzie’s note — leo my fave glorified arsonist

word count: 0.5k

"hey, piper? have you seen leo?" yn said. she had looked all over camp for her boyfriend and couldn't find him anywhere. she had even tried bunker nine, but when she called his name, nobody had answered.

piper's multicolored eyes glanced up at the girl from where she was laying under the shade of a tree and shook her head. "sorry, babe. haven't seen him since breakfast."

dejected, yn turned to leave. she couldn't believe leo had forgotten their anniversary. they had been dating for an entire year now; he'd never forgotten anything, from her favorite color to her birthday. but he had forgotten their one year. she sighed. maybe he was just busy training or something. yeah, that must be it, she told herself, heading back to her cabin.

a few hours later, piper and jason were eating dinner when leo rushed at them and nearly ran into the table. he looked at them, wide-eyed, and then took notice of the empty seat next to piper.

"where's she?" he demanded, panting. jason shrugged and went back to his mashed potatoes.

"she said she was looking for you earlier," the aphrodite girl offered. "check her cabin?"

"i just did that! i checked her cabin, the forges, the range, everywhere!" he said, exasperated. he shoved jason over a seat and grabbed one of piper's french fries.

"have you checked the field?" jason said. he took a sip of his drink and side-eyed his friend. "i saw her heading that way before din—"

leo got up and smacked jason upside the head. "why didn't you say anything earlier? cabron," he muttered. he ran off to find his girlfriend, leaving jason to holler a "you're welcome" after him.

leo was in the middle of the field when he saw her, sitting under the same tree she had asked piper for her boyfriend's whereabouts.

he ran up to her and sat down. "hi, cariño."

"leo," she said, staring out at camp. the bonfire burned from a distance, changing colors with the mood of the campers.

"did i do something wrong?" he asked, taking her hand. "i know i've been busy lately but—"

"leo, you missed our anniversary!" she exclaimed. she pulled her hand away and stood up, wiping tears away. "you forgot our one year!"

"i didn't forget, amor," leo whispered. he pulled something out of his pocket and stood to join yn. "i was making this." he uncurled his palm and showed her a ring. a beautifully made ring, gold, with a small rose on top. the moonlight caught on the words engraved inside. for my yn, the light of my life.

a soft gasp. "leo..."

"yn, i know demigods don't live forever. nobody does. and i want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you, mi amor. so, technically illegal and unofficial, but will you marry me?"

"gods, yes, leo!! yes, yes yes!!" she cried. she pressed a kiss to his lips and said, with a giddy smile, "i love you so much."

"not as much as i love you," he grinned, slipping the ring onto her finger. the two sat together, looking at the stars. "i guess we're married now?"

"illegally," yn smiled. "but all the same."

#leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #pjo #pjo x reader #hoo x reader #hoo #heroes of olympus x reader #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #[🧸] dear diary

[spockandawe]

OKAY, before I go back to gently decaying into the floor, I feel like I have to make a quick impassioned case for victoria goddard's books in general, and at the feet of the sun specifically, because I had assumed that at some point the series would reach an emotional peak and that later highs would be pleasant but not the same HEIGHTS, and... so far I have not been proven correct!

Okay. OKAY. 'The Hands Of The Emperor' was very very good. I read it, what, last year? I'd had it for a little while, one of those purchases for when I'm feeling sorry for myself and like 'surely this book will fix me' and then I impulse purchase a huge slab of paper. I think a friend was checking it out, and that persuaded me to actually dive in, and at a certain early point, the momentum tipped, and oh MAN, this slip-n-slide has no end in sight and I'm still accelerating.

The universe this is set in is called the Nine Worlds, and there are assorted novellas and short stories and a few sub-series of books, but HOTE is a good place to start. Career bureaucrat Cliopher (Kip) Mdang is secretary to the emperor at the middle of this fantasy world, a position he rose to despite being a nobody from some remote backwater and subject to a lot of fantasy racism. He periodically goes home to visit his family and childhood friends, who are all very impatient to retire, but he's still involved in piecing the world back together after a magical apocalypse (between 25 and 1000 years ago, depending where in the world you are), and is trying to improve the government at the same time.

The action begins with Kip tentatively inviting the emperor, his radiancy, the sun-on-earth, the magical linchpin at the center of the empire, if he wants to go on a vacation. The emperor does, and oh my god, I should have had such trouble getting into a story that's so.... quiet isn't exactly the right word, sedate isn't the right word, but it's bureaucracy that's front and center, and family dynamics, and politics and government, and it should have been a hard sell for me. I took a day or two off work so I could keep reading at maximum velocity.

Smash cut to the end of the book. I am about to dramatically oversimplify and also skip over a NUMBER of heartwrenching reveals. The emperor is placing a certain amount of ceremonial and political power in Kip's hands, and going off into the world to look for his heir. I thought that was the end of that, honestly? Again, usually, I would be a hard sell for an ending with those nominal stakes, but I was fully Into It here. That's 'Hands Of The Emperor'

The next book, 'The Return Of Fitzroy Angursell' (The Red Company Reformed, Book 1) follows Emperor Artorin Damara as he sets out on his hot girl summer, and while I am reluctant to drop any momentum at all for the big chonkers, this is 1) good shit, and 2) load-bearing context for the next huge book, the one that just came out. It might be possible to read the big book without this one, but I really, really recommend reading it. You won't have context for why Kip gets ancient civilization visitors, and that's only a start. I highly recommend every single novella and short story too, but this is the one that's key.

Now, a spoiler cut, because I don't think I can write about how this book hit me like a sledgehammer without getting into some spoilery developments, but I need to scream.

OKAY. 'At The Feet Of The Sun.' Kip is in charge of the government, even though he misses his radiancy and is also highkey ready to go back home and live in the house he bought and maybe invite his several closest friends from the emperor's household to come live with him. I thought I could see the shape of where this book was headed. Then. The emperor's spymaster started confiding in him about telepathic dinosaur soulmates and discussing his 'dear friend, his correspondent, the imposter' and what she told him, and I started to get a sneaking suspicion that shit was going to go off the RAILS

(also, i called it, I COMPLETELY CALLED WHO HIS PEN PAL WAS, I'm so proud of myself. It wasn't all that hard, but I nailed it the moment it came up)

Yeah, even though I was suspicious, I had no clue about why things were going to go in certain directions, or how, or where. After that first book, I expected to stay firmly entrenched in either government life or domesticity and uhhh. Nope! That did not happen.

FIRST, we've got canonical AU time, which delighted me to NO end, and was milked for all the juicy emotional potential I could hope for. If you read the book and want Even More, the discord has links to extra chapters from the pov of [spoilers redacted] during this portion.

But also, without going into context? ADVENTURE. We're off on a journey! Kip mentioned earlyish in the first book that he had a very close friend he lost contact with over the course of the magic apocalypse and hasn't heard from since, and he finally has the time and space to go looking for him! I'm sure this won't get wacky and wild, this is a very sensible book after all, starting a bunch of middle-aged bureaucrats.

HELL NO, DOG, WE'RE ON AN ADVENTURE! I can't say much context, a lot of it really, really has to be experienced, and the little book in between the big two ones is such crucial context for emotional developments. But. We're getting properly mythical up in this joint, we're in the realm of the divine, we're negotiating and bargaining with gods and other such entities. But where a strapping young lad might be doing favors and winning tokens, so that when a god gives him an impossible task he has the secret to success... Kip largely does for himself! With exquisite courtesy and skill at bargaining won over the course of a long and very successful career. I'm not making it sound as delightful as it is, but if you've been aware of Kip's success at Littleridge since the first book, and you see him come to negotiate with the Sun now, just!!!!!!

Meanwhile, Tor is hanging with the boat crew eating popcorn and learning hobbies like 'oh my god, kip is seriously the BEST, isn't he?' (this is not exactly what the emperor was doing, there were reasons he wasn't along for the ride, this was delightful to me, again, when i wouldn't have pinged this as my hole that is made for me)

And now it's time for old men in the absolute THROES of emotion!!!!! We are going to have AWKWARD CONVERSATIONS and talk about PRIVATE MATTERS, and it's going to be nervewracking for me, the reader, who was honestly trying to get back onto a decent sleep schedule!!! We're going to see some heckin REVELATIONS from side characters who bring this whole vibrancy to the life of this poor man who was stuck in a sterile environment hedged around by magical taboos for half his life! It's going to be extra moving for reasons I'm not disclosing! The scope of this second book is properly MYTHIC, and almost none of the most logical story beats I thought it would address (heir, retirement) are even fully covered, because there's going to be a third book, babey!!!!!

Oh my goodness. If you haven't read HOTE, I can't contextualize the incredible intensity of the bombshells ludvic drops in this story, and rhodin is so much more delightfully unhinged than I ever gave him credit for. Conju manages to be as wonderful as ever despite minimal screen time (i would DIE for him), and I've never seen a man so eloquently express his affection through hair care advice. The scale of this book is MYTHIC, but also, vibrantly human. Some of the passages in here put me in mind of like.... the first time I read the sedna myth, feeling that settle into my brain and hollow out a new space. But we've got some fabulous, bright exchanges over poetry, both the love of it and the creation of it (and the BANANA SCALE). It has an iguana!

It's hard to say that a book has it all, but this one really does. The first book was still incredibly good, don't get me wrong, I recommend it so, so hard. But this one had me howling with delight at each new plot development. I am painfully invested in these old men. I still need to finish the Greenwing and Dart series, but after meeting Jullanar in there and in the return of fitzroy angursell, I need to finish the series for whatever more of her I can consume. I need to read The Redoubtable Pali Avramapul, which I somehow missed, and the second Sisters Avramapul novel. I've also already started rereading HOTE, and the things that are more OOMPH in retrospect are already coming fast and heavy. I reread Petty Treasons and Aurelius (To Be Called Magnus), both of which are so GOOD, and I know that The Tower At The Edge Of The World will destroy me (and Portrait Of A Wide Seas Islander i'm saving for dessert)

I don't know how much spread this series has, I don't participate in Online Book Communities so much, I don't read often enough or thoroughly enough to make it worth keeping tabs on those tides. But this is a book where I feel like I have to recommend it at maximum intensity to anyone with the poor judgment to make eye contact with me. I love everything about this book, and I have to at least try to introduce it to anyone who's unaware of it

#at the feet of the sun #lays of the hearth fire #spoilers #atfots spoilers #vaguely #i went in completely blind and it was #i felt emotionally hungover at the end of that marathon #but in a very good way #long post/

[eirian-houpe]

For Your Consideration

In light of the fact that the nomination deadline has been extended, I am going ahead and putting some suggestions out there for fics that could be nominated. I've chosen some of my lesser known fics for this purpose.

Time's Curse

Never fall in love - such is the admonition given to Rumplestiltskin. Blue sees fit to interfere with his plan to reach a world without magic by sending him there herself so that he can pursue his quest to find his son, but he is not alone in this world without magic, nor does it appear that he is entirely free to live his life as he would wish. In the course of his seemingly fruitless search for Baelfire, Rumplestiltskin takes a job as a history teacher at an exclusive private school, and there meets Isabelle - the French teacher. All of a sudden that interdiction against falling in love seems to be really important.

Could be nominated for: Drama Angst - Hurts So Good AU (Other Media).

On Whose Hands?

Belle has no memory of how she has so much blood on her hands, but it seems the townsfolk have turned against her, blaming her for some unseen crime. Rumplestiltskin, under the control of the Dark One's Dagger, held by Zelena, suddenly appears and makes matters a whole lot worse. Canon compliant variation of what might have happened when Rumple was trying to warn the people of Storybrooke of Zelena's dark intentions during the time he was her prisoner.

Could be nominated for: Angst - Hurts So Good Angst - Misunderstanding

Tuesday

When you go poking around in time, you might sometimes find that it pushes back, as Nick Rush finds out… the hard way.

Could be nominated for: Best Anyelle

Secret of the Seas

Belle and Ruby take a much needed vacation, treating themselves to a fourteen day cruise. Jefferson is Head Mixologist aboard the ship, Secret of the Seas, and Gold is Deck Nine Supervisor, and amid much flirting, and false starts, holiday romances and forbidden loves ensue. Written from the Rumbelle Bingo prompts: Bed sharing, Vulnerability, Jefferson, Pesky Royals, Roses.

Could be nominated for: Threesome Polyship AU Original

Nobody Knew

Nobody knew the true cost of living with two lives in your head in a world where everyone else has forgotten one of them. Nobody except Jefferson, and when he'd finally reached the end of his rope and exacted his revenge on Regina for being the one to hurt so many people just to get her own happy ending, what could he do than give his all - give everything to reunite his two closest friends, and return to them the gift of true love?

Could be nominated for: Angst - Hurts So Good BFF/Wingman (Jefferson) AU: Once Upon A Time

Modern Wonders

Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, and when Regina casts Rumple's Dark Curse, just a few words here and there creates Storybrooke in a very different place, with a very different atmosphere, and very different issues to deal with. Alliances and enmity permeate the lives of the citizens of Storybrooke, (and beyond), as they tiptoe around the various dangers they face every day. Who is awake? How can they break the curse within a curse? And what of the power struggles rife both within, and outside of Storybrooke itself.

Could be nominated for: AU - Other Media

Scattered

Casting a spell, any spell - at least the ones that involve more than just the wave of a hand, or worse, the wave of an irritating fairy’s wand - takes time, and patience, and the right ingredients, and… just like any recipe, if you get it wrong, it doesn’t mean the cake won’t cook, rather then will, just with unexpected or unintended outcomes. All of Rumplestiltskin’s careful planning and manipulation, all of his hopes and dreams turn to dust; ashes in his bitter heart in the blink of an eye… in the fall of an equine heart. Belle exchanges one terrible prison for another, and it’s one she is desperate to escape, and though Rumple’s fate as The Savior was severed from him centuries ago, sometimes fate itself has a way of finding an alternate route home.

Could be nominated for: Best (Worst) Villain (Gaston, or more subtly Regina)

The Price

All magic comes with a price, but this is one price that Rumplestiltskin is more than willing to pay.

Could be nominated for: Unexpected Twist

Seven Tastes

Jefferson and Grace visit the Dark Castle to try and persuade Rumplestiltskin to celebrate the Winter Solstice. What begins with a hidden sprig of mistletoe leads through the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime, that ends in a beautiful redemption.

Could be nominated for: Best Holiday-Centric Angst - Hurts So Good

Methedhênlû

Rumplestiltskin is wisked away just as he is approaching the Dark Castle, and after a surprise visit from Jefferson, on a very strange day, Belle follows soon after. They find themselves in a world where darkness is approaching unless a sacrifice is made, and all because a king is unwilling to join the war; would much rather save his own, than become a hero and save the world.

Could be nominated for: Crossover

#cca 2024 #chipped cup awards #fyc #for your consideration

[vengekiss]

daughter.

why be good at one thing when you can be good at everything?

this is what i ask myself when i wake up in the morning.

today, i mouth to the ceiling, i will be the best there can be.

i will not only do, i will excel.

and most importantly, it will bring honor to my family.

this is what i think as i walk in the hallway.

this is the path of the righteous man, i believe.

i walk to my classes and do my homework and raise my hand and walk home after it all.

i practice and study and help and pass and win with a docile smile on my face, and i am happy.

my life is simple, i say to myself, my life is good.

this is what is in my head when he's looking at me.

i take off my rose tinted glasses to wipe them and that's when i see it.

who is this? i wonder. why does he look at me? what does he want from me?

and then he looks away, and we're feet apart again, in parallel paths of righteous men.

the questions on my lips dissolve into a bitter taste.

i still don't know, i tell myself. i need to know.

this is what im analyzing late at night.

his glances turn to stares, his greetings turn to warm conversation.

i am still fulfilling the nine steps of winners.

i am still on the path of the righteous man.

he is smart like me, he tries to make his family proud like me.

he walks with men i've only ever heard of.

he acts like people i can't be seen with.

he could be, i start before i restrain myself from saying, the one.

my friends have seen his glances turn to stares.

they have seen my glassy-eyed face crack at the corners.

is this what it means to be human?

this is the battle i fight with myself every day.

which step are you on? my parents ask. are you bringing honor to our family?

i stop being good at everything.

for the first time in my life, i am drowning.

his eyes are a deep cave in which i find myself.

chapter 14, in which our heroine loses herself.

i pace the hallways and forget my homework and bite my nails and stay after school with fantasies in my head.

i must change, i implore myself, for the better.

what is better?

this is what i ask myself as i hit "yes" and tell him no.

he glares at me now and gives me reasons to hate.

i slowly go back to being good at everything.

my friends quickly move on to a new monster of the week.

now i have become daughter, destroyer of dreams.

the mirror won't even look me in the eye anymore.

did i do what was right for me? i wish i could answer. was there another way?

this is what i wish i could tell my mom.

i eat in silence with her and silent tears drop into my rice as i swallow everything i cannot say.

the ceiling reminds me of him when i wake up.

i whisper sweet nothings to nobody at all.

moving on is not something that you can be good at, and i seem to be the worst at it.

i wish i may, i say to the shooting star. i wish i might.

this is what keeps me up tonight.

i try to put a name to the feelings as i lose my voice.

my eyes are hungry for a replacement, someone to use to forget.

i swallow the blue pill with a dry mouth and my eyes glaze over.

i wish i could say something in the car but then the moment's over and the vault swings shut.

i am a disgrace, i cry, i have lost my honor.

why be bad at one thing when you could be bad at everything?

#if my muses found this theyd be feral #thats what motivates me #poetry #jai's bakwaaz #poems on tumblr #poem #original poem #romantic poetry #romantic poem #romantic #poets on tumblr

[gingerteaonthetardis]

you ever see those posts about when people just have stray cats like magically appear in their house and they have that funny moment of “I don’t own a cat”?? what if that but like. In the TARDIS. Rose wakes up one morning and there’s just a cat wandering around the console room. Zero explanation. Nine is losing his mind trying to figure out how a cat got into the TARDIS. He does fifty scans on it convinced it’s some infinitely powerful alien life form but turns out it’s literally just a normal cat. eventually they just silently decide to keep it and nobody ever questions it again.

i'm obsessed with this because i'm actually 100% convinced my cat can walk through walls. i will put him outside (yes, i know it's bad :/ but we inherited him and he's too old to change) and then i swear to god, he will just appear ten minutes later in the kitchen or something!!! cats are just Like That and i think the doctor would equally struggle with this reality. although, i'm partial to rose being like, "*big watery eyes* can we keep him? please???" and nine can't really say no, because picking up strays around time and space is kind of His Thing.

#sunnibits #abbey.txt #dw #ninerose

[swamplatibule]

MAY I PRESENT TO YOU….

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN….

KILLIGAN!!

A.K.A a paracosm of mine that I haven’t talked about literally ever because due to The Horrors i have been unable to daydreampost. Sorry.

Anyway! Fair warning for a little bit of fucked up shit! Mostly murder and cult stuff and some graphic violence. One of our dual protagonists kills people for a living so I’d say that’s to be expected, yknow? But we’ll get to that guy later- Allow me to introduce you to John.

Johnathan Parse is nobody. People simply do not notice him, and he goes about his life as a background character to everyone else. This anxious wreck is a private investigator who usually takes up missing persons cases. He’s good at his job, but there’s one person he was never able to find - his daughter, Kyrie. She vanished nine years ago and was presumed dead, but he knows she’s still out there somewhere and he’s been searching for her ever since. He’s still no closer to finding her than the day she went missing. Sad!

However… he does have one lead. A ludicrous, unreliable lead, but a lead nonetheless.

We’ll get to that in a bit.

Now let me introduce you to our OTHER protagonist- Vic Killigan, the titular character.

Killigan is a hitman with a very fortunate name (even thought it’s not his Real Name but we are not delving into that today). He’s terrifyingly good at his job, and impossible to find unless he wants you to. This weird little freak has been running circles around the law for years.

Very few people have been brave enough to try hunting Vic down, and none have survived.

Unfortunately, he is the only lead John has.

You see, Vic was raised in what is essentially an elite child soldier death cult known as the ROSE Order. At the ripe old age of 19, he escaped ROSE, faked his death, and proceeded to capitalize on murder since it was the only life skill he had. John has reason to believe that this “Order” is responsible for his daughter’s disappearance, and that Vic has some sort of connection, but if Killigan is hard to find, ROSE is out of the question.

Let me pause for a second and explain ROSE. It’s an underground paramilitary organization that is comprised of highly efficient and ruthless assassins, most of which were kidnapped as young children to be trained. ROSE has a foothold in most governments, puppeteering from the background, but they also work in providing private military services to their many sponsors. If you’re raised in the Order, there’s like a 50% chance you’ll become a ROSE spy/assassin, and a 50% chance you’ll get shipped off to go do shady murder shit for some rich fuck.

The only people who know how deep the Order runs are those in charge - or those who find out too much and are subsequently killed. Of course, there’s a slim percentage that manage to escape ROSE, but even most of them don’t have a clue.

Vic Killigan does.

If John has any hope of finding his daughter, Killigan’s his man- which leads him to spend months fruitlessly trying to track him down until a ✨potential informant✨ makes contact, and John winds up roped into attending a big gala. His informant doesn’t show, but the host of the gala is murdered by none other than Killigan himself. John manages to get a tracker on him in the form of a very fancy pen and, because he’s allowed to be a dumb bitch occasionally, breaks into his house without a plan to try and find a lead.

Clearly that does not go well, and not long after, John wakes up ziptied to a chair with the man the myth the legend Killigan interrogating him as to how the Fuck he tracked him down. Great first impressions <3 John, being scared shitless for obvious reasons, tells him everything immediately. Killigan just stares at him for a minute, and then… he leaves the room without a single word. You’ll notice he does that a lot.

It takes John a somewhat pathetic fifteen minutes to break free from his ziptie prison, and he walks out to see Vic sitting on the kitchen counter staring off into space. He’s beginning to get the feeling that this was a very bad idea, and that this Killigan character is in fact extremely fucking weird. Too late now!

(^ a gorgeous commission by @/ratt-teeth !!! :])

Killigan very politely informs him that there is no way in hell he’s going to mess with the Order because while he might have a death wish that is absolutely not the way he wants to go. He also advises John to stay the fuck away from ROSE if he doesn’t want to get McMurdered. However! After some small deliberation, Vic goes “ugh. god. fine.” and agrees not to help him get to ROSE, but connect him with some friends who might be willing to.

First stop: Anastasia Cruz and her team.

faceclaims are lovie simone and diana silvers

Anastasia Cruz is, like Vic, an escaped ROSE agent who then decided to put her skills to use. She runs a syndicate of thieves known as the Sapphires, which Vic never stops making fun of because he thinks it sounds like a band (and he’s not wrong). Ruby Garnier is Anastasia’s far less charismatic second-in-command.

Vic is a close friend of Anastasia’s. They might as well be siblings! And yet, when he arrives at the Sapphire’s base of operations, he and John are immediately attacked, knocked out, and taken prisoner. Well, shit!! That’s not good!

Anyway this has been in my drafts for a few weeks so I’m just going to post it and I’ll write out a part 2 later lmfaooo

Taglist: @sugarcoatedsadism @diphtheria420 @parasdreams @dreamyblur @daydreaming-memories @acircusfullofdemons

#paracosm: killigan #this is barely scratching the surface but I need to put SOMETHING out there #if you want to be added to the taglist just ask!! #paraportal #maddblr #diogenes does a thing #daydreamposting