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cometomecosette · 9 months

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"Les Misérables" musical character interpretations: Javert

Next in my series of characterization comparisons: Javert.

These descriptions are all based on performances of the role that I've seen, either in person or filmed. They can also be combined with each other to create more characterizations: for example, I think Earl Carpenter's excellent Javert struck a balance between the Heart of Stone and the Firebrand, with hints of the Neurotic here and there. I've only seen one Dutiful Officer, though – we all know who – and I'm not sure if that portrayal would work onstage or if it requires the subtlety of film acting.

By the way, I've only attributed a sarcastic sense of humor to the Neurotic because that's what I've seen. In theory, any type of Javert could have that quality, but in my experience, the most sarcastic Javerts have also been the most neurotic and mentally unstable by the end. Whether this is a general rule or not I don't know.

The Heart of Stone

This Javert embodies the hard, cold, unbending nature of the law. He stands with perfect, rigid posture and makes no unnecessary movement. His face is generally emotionless too, except to convey an icy disdain. His entire body and voice radiate sternness, discipline, dignity, and iron-clad dedication to his duty. Rarely will he use physical intimidation or threats of violence – his baton is usually tucked firmly at his side, only raised when necessary – but his hard, withering stare and cutting tone of voice are enough to make anyone except Jean Valjean submit to his will. Lawbreakers barely register as human beings to him: they’re simply dirt to be swept off the street. Only Valjean comes to matter personally for his elusiveness. Yet even then, we sense that he would hunt any other convict just as relentlessly, and that he despises Valjean less as a person than as a symbol of crime, just as he himself seems almost more like a symbol of pitiless law than a human being. This isn’t to say that he’s too stoic and detached to be fierce: in moments like “Confrontation,” he has no lack of ferocity. But it’s a hard fierceness, like the sharpness of an icicle. Even in anger, he never loses control of himself, but is deliberate, decisive, and stony. That is, until Valjean shatters his worldview by sparing his life. At this point, we realize that this Javert is all too human after all, as despite his efforts to fight it, he spirals into confusion, helpless rage, and despair. It’s particularly shocking and poignant to see this Javert fall apart, because he was such a block of granite, who once seemed as if he would never crumble.

The Firebrand

This Javert’s defining trait is anger. He often – though not always – tends to be younger than the Heart of Stone, with the fiery energy of youth and with the wounds of his childhood as the son of criminals still raw. In the Prologue, his “No!” in response to Valjean’s “Yes, it means I’m free!” will likely be an indignant shout (rather than, say, a quiet, disdainful sneer), and if Valjean is especially insolent, he might give him hard blow with his baton. Or else he might not: he might have a controlled, rigid veneer that superficially resembles the Heart of Stone. But whether his fire is contained or wild, we constantly see it burning. He shows utter contempt for every lawbreaker and disgust when they try to beg for mercy, and he typically handles them all in a more aggressive, physical manner than other Javerts do, with free use of his baton for intimidation. His hunting of Valjean is clearly not just dedication to the law, but a quest for revenge against the man he considers his greatest challenge. Their mutual hostility is fiercely personal. His barricade scenes are fierce too, with the students likely needing to restrain him from attacking Enjolras or Gavroche after he’s exposed as a spy. The first stanzas of “Javert’s Suicide” will naturally blaze with fury too. But for the first time in his life, his anger proves futile. Then at last, it dissolves, and more vulnerable emotions consume him: childlike fear, desperation, maybe even tears. To describe just how Valjean’s mercy breaks him, we might recall this quote from Man of La Mancha: “Blows and abuse I can take and give back again. Tenderness I cannot bear.”

The Neurotic

This Javert’s whole journey is a slow descent into madness. At first, he seems like a Heart of Stone: cold, stern, efficient. In his flinty calm, he might even display a sarcastic sense of humor at times. But during “The Runaway Cart,” the cracks start to appear. He’ll convey a quiet yet chilling sense of anger that Jean Valjean has eluded him for so long, and of subtly sadistic pleasure that he’s finally been caught. Then when Monsieur Madeleine, the mayor whom he’s deferred to and obeyed, reveals himself as the real Valjean, something snaps within him. In “Confrontation,” this Javert will be frenzied, animalistic, nearly crazed in his joy at having Valjean in his clutches and then rage when he resists arrest; when they fight at the end, he’ll likely try to brutally beat Valjean, not caring if he takes him away alive or dead. When we meet him again in Paris, nine more years of vain searching will have done no favors for his mental health. This Javert’s rendition of “Stars” isn’t a firm statement of belief, but an anxious, desperate attempt to assure himself that the law is “the way of the Lord” and will prevail. He looks to the stars for comfort; their stability soothes his increasingly unstable mind. In the barricade scenes, he shows increasingly ferocious rage, by now much more like a Firebrand Javert than the calm, sarcastic Heart of Stone he once seemed to be. And when the object of his obsessive hatred spares his life, a total breakdown occurs. His suicide soliloquy is a display of wild-eyed, body-contorting, shuddering insanity, both frightening and pitiful. Yet this breakdown is no shock to us; we will have seen it coming long ago.

The Dutiful Officer

When Valjean sings “You’ve done your duty, nothing more” to this Javert, the audience will be more inclined than usual to agree with him. This inspector is neither icy, nor fiery, nor neurotic, but an ordinary policeman we might meet every day, simply dedicated to his job. While of course he’s stern, unbending in matters of the law, and willing to use intimidation or violence when necessary, he’s a reserved man who rarely gets angry and whose usual demeanor is of dutiful stoicism, not fierceness, sarcasm, or rigidity. Though he disdains lawbreakers, he hasn’t fully lost sight of their humanity and is sometimes willing to hear them out, though their words never move him to mercy. Nor does Jean Valjean seem to be a particular object of his obsession: like his more imposing cousin the Heart of Stone Javert, he would hunt any other convict just as doggedly. The deaths of the revolutionaries don’t leave him unmoved either. Rather than just searching for Valjean after the barricade falls, he’ll survey the students’ bodies with quiet, grim horror, and be especially shaken when he finds Gavroche’s body. At this point, we’ll sense that Valjean’s earlier mercy has opened his eyes to all the law’s injustice, and that as a result, the slaughter at the barricades becomes essential to shattering his faith. Also unique to this Javert is his air of quiet thoughtfulness. There’s no epic breakdown in “Javert’s Suicide”: it’s an anguished yet reflective, intimate moment, where he quietly mulls over his torments and ultimately finds no logical choice but to die. He’s a less dramatic Javert than others, but of all Javerts, he’s the one who most clearly isn’t a villain.

More comparisons to come!

#les mis #les miserables #musical #javert #characterizations #comparison #tw: violence #tw: death #tw: suicide

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whomst-art-thou-whomst-whomst · 1 year

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Oh No! Here Comes Trouble Bus Meta eps 4-10

That’s right, Whomst is BACK, my Lost Tomb fics-in-progress are THRIVING, and this new show is shaping up to be one of my favorite series of the year: it’s the heartbreaking supernatural storylines, it’s the humor and actors’ chemistry, and importantly, it’s the way the show is telling us so much without saying a word.

So here’s another post *flings it into the tumblr abyss* because this show is sneakily showing us Yiyong and Guangyan’s relationship growth through the metaphor of the Taipei public bus system. They’re insane for it and I’m insane for rewatching all the episodes to find scenes where these idiots are on a bus together.

The Bus as a Site of Trauma

It's significant that buses are an important site already for Yiyong, before the main events of the drama begin. A bus was the site of his worst memory, the bus crash that killed his father and landed Yiyong and his grandfather in the hospital, the bus they were on because Yiyong slept in (which he hasn't forgiven himself for).

The main reason Yiyong wasn’t hurt worse or killed, as far as I can tell, is because he moved out of the path of the collision just before it happened—his kind dad urged him to go have a seat in the back rather than stand. It's the last communication he has with his father--silent, a text message, a surly teen grudgingly listening to his parent. And then the freak accident happens, the plane collides with the bus, and Yiyong's world collapses.

So what about post-coma, when he starts riding the bus again?

When he’s alone, he's returning to and grieving the memory of his dad’s last moments. When he’s with Guangyan, however, the experience is different.

First Bus Stop Encounter: Ep 4

Things are tense between them here—it’s their first case together (tattoo lady), and Guangyan is still in denial about what the hell is going on right in front of his sweater vest. I love my fussy, self-absorbed neurotic meow meow.

These boys are still not friends, they are constantly thinking back to and remembering their high school drama years, BUT this is also the episode where the nature of the supernatural case makes Guangyan’s curiosity overcomes his fear and dislike of Yiyong; on the other side of it, Yiyong—still figuring out his own deal as an on-call spectral scribe—gets the reassurance of another person who knows what’s going on and can help. Despite the mutual antagonism, he always acknowledges that Guangyan is smart, and he could use a braincell or two on this team (so sad he won't get it).

The very awkward beginning to their bond is apparent here in the way Yiyong (freshly unemployed) has waited for Guangyan’s bus back from school to get his input, but has to threaten him into walking back together and helping out.

First Bus Ride Together: Still Ep 4

On the way back from looking at the John Doe body, they ride the bus together—but start out sitting far apart. They’ve only just started working together to figure out what happened to the John Doe, so it’s incredibly awkward and there’s a lack of communication between them.

However, we can see the beginnings of a softening between them. Behold Guangyan’s little pout when he sees Yiyong hasn’t come to sit with him. His house cat energy is off the charts here: “I hate him I hate him I hate—WHY ISN’T HE SITTING WITH ME???”

Yiyong, who has clearly not picked up on Anything and is still in case mode, casually starts yelling to Guangyan right there and then about corpses (I love him and his complete lack of care for what people think) and the flustered Guangyan scurries over to sit with him to have this conversation privately, for the love of god.

It’s the first time they sit together and it’s important that Guangyan is the one to initiate it, even if it stems from his fear of what people will think of them.

We still see the pole dividing them, but they’re physically closer now. Yiyong is already using and trusting Guangyan's medical knowledge, and even though they're in the "one step forward, two steps back" phase, it's a start.

The Second Bus Ride Together: Ep 6

The next time is completely different—they’re on their little “stalk the potential kidnapper” date and Guangyan, whose chaotic side is jumping out this episode, is on his usual quest to have Yiyong draw the specter for him.

They’re practically squished in together, with mirroring postures. The pole is now to one side, setting them apart from everyone else.

This is the day that Guangyan skips school to follow Yiyong to a theme park, which we know from his dad is completely out of character. He even comes home with a souvenir toy Yiyong won for him. This is a dynamic that is starting to change.

The Second Bus Stop Encounter: Ep 7

Yiyong’s grandfather has nearly died, and he decides a pre-med student is the best person to get for medical advice. It’s a way of saying without saying, “I trust you, please help me,” which takes the form of Yiyong frantically dragging Guangyan off his bus to school while berating him for not answering his phone. Gotta love this messy little gremlin.

The interesting thing is that Guangyan actually capitulates and goes with him, despite the little performance of protest—he skips school again to be with Yiyong.

The Third Bus Ride Together: Still Ep 7

On their way back from the hospital, we get a fantastic reversal of the first bus ride, where the boys sat down apart and only talked about medical questions. Here, the second they get on the bus, Yiyong casually drags Guangyan to sit with him. He asks Guangyan to video chat with him to help him with a dream, and even gives Guangyan an absent-minded shoulder pat on his way off the bus.

For all his “never in all my life” pearls-clutching act, Guangyan goes along with it and they are once again a united front.

The Third Bus Stop Encounter: Ep 10

Our final bus scene so far (episode 11 and 12 don’t come out until Saturday) is a reversal of the very first “waiting for Guangyan’s bus” scene (see the first bus stop encounter above). The poses are essentially the same, but everything else has changed--the camera view has switched so Yiyong is now on the left and Guangyan is on the right, it's daytime instead of nighttime, and their relationship has grown leaps and bounds.

Look at my babies. The Growth. The fact that they are sitting close together, not because they’re squished into bus seats (plenty of room on that bench, Guangyan honey), but by choice. It’s all about the we statements now, Guangyan has been out there defending Yiyong to the world and Yiyong no longer has to drag him into things, he has a real friend now. They've shared a bed multiple times, Guangyan knows Yiyong's favorite foods, Yiyong has apologized and been vulnerable in front of him...they are at the same bus stop as the beginning of their re-acquaintance, but miles away from what they used to be.

AND it’s in this scene that Guangyan gives Yiyong the cutest, tiniest little smile in response to Yiyong’s sarcastic joke, which absolutely spooks our boy. I know this is supposedly not a BL, but Yiyong’s response that Guangyan shouldn’t make such weird faces at him because it is giving him goosebumps, and abruptly walking away—mmhmm sweetie I’ve been there too.

SO. That’s the bus sequence. I might come back and update this if we get more bus scenes in eps 10 and 11. This will not be my last post on this fantastic show.

#whomst #oh no! here comes trouble #pu yiyong #cao guangyan #public transit as bonding

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shuacore · 2 years

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say something (like you love me)

reader (fem) x yjh — 4.5K words summary: "don't go on that date," he had said. in the six years you had lived with yoon jeonghan, you had never seen him look so forlorn. it's unfamiliarity scared you. tags: swearing, angst lite, y/n is emotionally conflicted, smut (18+), additional warnings under the cut

believe — mumford & sons

additional warnings: car hook-up, unprotected sex (always be safe pls!!!!), oral (m receiving) pet names (princess, angel, baby), probably a billion red flags lol

“Don’t go on that date,” he had said, voice barely above a whisper.

The silence is deafening, broken only by the muffled sounds of some B-grade ballad on the radio.

Your fingers are folded clumsily in his hand. Part of you wonders if he had said anything at all. For a moment, your world stops spinning.

In the six years you had lived with Yoon Jeonghan, you had never seen him look so forlorn. Not when you both failed your chemistry final senior year of high school, not when he lost the keys to his first car, not even when his first girlfriend broke up with him via her best friend. This was the first time you had seen him so broken, so openly distraught over your love life.

It’s unfamiliarity scared you.

“What?” you ask, heart thumping erratically in your throat. Your fingers falter on the car door handle. In hindsight, you still aren’t sure what keeps you; what it is about this moment that feels so heavy.

Important.

Jeonghan has a far-away look in his eyes as he takes in every inch of your skin, his eyes traveling across the dip of your collarbones and the slope of your shoulders and the curve of your thighs. The air from the vents is frigid, fogging the windows of the car from the stifling humidity just beyond your four-wheeled haven.

“Don’t—don’t go,” Jeonghan says again. He’s pleading.

“Why?” you ask, impatience replacing the worry burrowing in your chest.

“You know why,” your roommate mumbles, the same sad look painted across his features.

You shake your head, pulling the door handle. It clicks as you unlatch the jamb. Jeonghan looks desperate, fingers tightening around your hand.

“I can’t read your mind—“

He laughs without humor, the sound harsh and biting and so unlike the Jeonghan you know that you’re rendered speechless. His fingers drum against the steering wheel, the ring on his pinky finger flashing the light. You had never seen this much tension in Jeonghan’s body before, how it crushes his shoulders and tightens his jaw.

Jeonghan drops your hand. He stares ahead unblinkingly.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, like you have much of a choice, but the engine is already started, his hand cranking the clutch into drive, knuckles white on the steering wheel as he peals out of the parking lot. It’s unclear if Jeonghan knows where he’s going, or if his inner turmoil manifests as a dizzying collection of lefts and rights to who-knows-where. Angry protests fall on deaf ears.

Somehow you end up on the side of the road, bordering a deserted field just outside the city, as the breeze rustles the prairie grasses like an earthen whisper in the distance. You unclench your fists, wiggling your fingers to bring the blood back to your numb hands. You’re hurt and angry, but above all you’re just confused.

The stars overhead are beautiful, so distant and cold that in any other situation you might be left breathless in your amazement. You wish you could take the time to appreciate them, except that Jeonghan is inconsolable, hands currently clenched in his hair in distress and it’s putting you on edge.

“For fuck’s sake, what is it?!” you snap, rubbing a hand against your forehead. You have never seen your roommate so neurotic before, so unable to voice the words that choke him. He bangs a fist against the steering wheel, cursing loudly, before cranking opening his door and stumbling out into the grass.

You’re wary—when Jeonghan was volatile he was unpredictable—but your worry outweighs your cautiousness, so you follow him, shutting the door behind you. The heavy clunk of the latch echoes over the quiet of the field. You ignore the chill that runs through your body as the night air hits your skin.

“Jeonghan!” you yell insistently, watching as he crouches on the ground, holding his head in his hands. “Jeonghan, what the hell—”

“Six years!” he finally declares, and you freeze.

Jeonghan stands, lifting his head to look you in the eyes. At any other point you might have made a joke about him being drunk, saying things he didn’t mean, acting strange and irrational.

But the moment you make eye contact, you realize he is terrifyingly sober. Where there’s normally mirth, you only see despair, his pupils blown out and his voice shaky.

Jeonghan takes a deep breath. “Six years.” He turns away again, staring blankly at the night sky above. His hands are balled into fists while he anxiously fidgets his fingers. “Six years I have loved you.”

Nothing in the world could have prepared you for this.

It would be wrong to pretend like you had never thought about Jeonghan in that way. He was young, attractive, charismatic, and you were closer with him than anyone else you knew— you had lived with him for six years, for God’s sake.

Sometimes when you’d overhear Jeonghan and the girls he brought home in his room, you’d pretend it was you under him, producing those horrid whiny moans that drove him wild. The thought made your skin burn and your body ache, and more often than not, your hands would slink down into your pants, leaving you confused and embarrassed and unsatisfied.

Maybe you had always wanted Jeonghan, but maybe part of you had never accepted that it could ever be more than a silly little fantasy.

“Jeonghan—” you protest, but your roommate just sighs bitterly, putting up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t give me that,” he says, and it hurts you to hear him so sad.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you say, taking a step towards your roommate but Jeonghan backs away, hands held up in resistance.

“I want you to realize that I’m the one meant for you, that I’m the one that’s always been there for you. It’s me, y/n,” Jeonghan whispers. Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you know it’s wrong to feel something like this when Jeonghan is so destroyed, but there’s a new rush of heat under your skin, and suddenly you need to touch him, feel him, see him.

“God, I love y—”

“Oh, shut up,” you mutter, and then you’re kissing him with a desperation you never thought possible, and you don’t know if you’re trying to shut him up or prove to yourself that this could happen, but Jeonghan is grabbing at your dress feverishly, fumbling for the zipper, pushing the hem of your skirt over your hips like he’s been waiting his entire life to do this to you.

He presses you against the car, tongue already halfway down your throat as you pull the heavy jacket off his shoulders, breath ragged in his mouth. Your nails click on the metal of Jeonghan’s belt buckle, and he chuckles coarsely, fingers winding in your hair as he fumbles to open the door to the backseat of his car, refusing to break contact with you at the mouth.

Despite the way Jeonghan handles you, there’s a hesitancy in him, shaking fingers rough but uncertain on your body as he unclasps the buttons on your collar, knocked breathless by the sight of your throat and collarbones and sternum. Your smooth skin, practically begging to be marked by his teeth—Jeonghan almost moans out loud as you curve into to his body, guiding him back into a heated embrace, the sweet smell of your perfume as seductive and alluring as he remembers.

You feel how hard Jeonghan is through his pants, erection pressed up against your leg and you simper into your kiss. He was so worked up, so easily turned on by your body that all you had to do was show a little skin and he was all yours.

It’s both gratifying and terrifying.

“Y/n,” Jeonghan says under his breath, hand cupping your neck, “I need you to tell me now if you want to stop.” The same guarded vulnerability has resurfaced in his eyes, and he’s so serious about this, so unlike the person you’ve been living with that you just shake your head restlessly.

You won’t stop now. You can’t.

“I wanna touch you,” you gasp, fingers still knotted in his shirt, and then the two of you are clambering ungainly into the back seat of Jeonghan’s car, like reckless teenagers looking for a quickie, contorting to fit in the awkward space. Your roommate yanks off his jeans, swearing as his arms smack into the seats. You stifle a laugh as you spit on your palm and slip your fingers into his boxers for the first time.

Jeonghan hisses in relief as you take his cock in your hand, twisting along his length a few times, listening to the slurred veneration that tumbles from his lips. It’s hot, to say the least, hearing the way Jeonghan’s voice strains as he breathes your name in the stuffy quiet of the car. His cock is hardening fast, pre-cum wetting your fist after you pump him a few more times.

He rests against the car door, eyes half-closed, as you lean forward to press the tip of his cock to your tongue. Jeonghan groans and swears loudly as you take his length in your mouth, cheeks sucked in, tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Fingers wind in your hair, lightly pushing the back of your head down farther like he’s trying to exercise restraint, but the thought of choking on Jeonghan’s cock turns you on so much, and now the crude sounds of gagging and heavy breathing fill the car like some kind of pornographic symphony. Your arousal is soaking through your panties, and you touch yourself over the fabric, suffocating your quiet moans with your roommate’s cock crammed in your jaws.

Jeonghan whines, high-pitched and breathy, as you finally bottom out, throat relaxing to take his whole length in your mouth, and his fingers are clenched in your hair, pulling you off of him to drag you into a heated kiss. The profanities on his tongue taste just as sweet as the pre-cum on your lips, and you gasp as you feel Jeonghan’s cold fingers trail over your stomach and below the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Jeonghan chokes, fingers coming away slick with your arousal. His eyes are so dark, voice so hoarse with reverence as you finally lay down, spreading your legs wide, pulling your dress over your head with exasperation.

No more time for this strange limbo— you wanted him now.

“Jeonghan, please,” you breath, as Jeonghan pumps his own length in his fist a few times, kneeling in between your thighs.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” Jeonghan whispers, and there’s another glimpse of that palpable fear, like he knows he's so close to getting what he wants that he’s afraid you might shatter in his hands. You brush a strand of hair out of your roommate's eyes, pushing his bangs gently off his forehead, attempting to assuage the anxieties festering in his chest.

“I trust you,” you reply, and Jeonghan captures you in another kiss, sweet and bitter at the same time, lingering a moment too long over your lips as he pulls away.

He pulls aside your panties, gathering some of your arousal on his fingers to rub over his cock, groaning low at how wet you are for him. One more soft kiss to your knee before he sets himself over you, cock positioned at your entrance. You inhale sharply in anticipation.

But then Jeonghan falters. His stare is still dark and uncertain, eyes searching your face for something specific.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice breaks in the quiet of the car.

That was something you had always loved about Jeonghan. Sure, he could be an irritating asshole majority of the time, but he never pushed you past your limits, and that even extended to this moment, here in his car as he positioned himself over you, waiting for you to give him full permission.

Before tonight you had never seen Jeonghan so earnest, nor had you seen him so vulnerable, either. It was unnerving to see him undone like this. Thrilling.

You nod, incapable of suppressing the dopey smile that blossoms across your face, before lifting your head to press a light kiss to the corner of Jeonghan’s mouth. That’s all he needs.

“Okay,” Jeonghan says, more to himself, before stroking his length a few times in his fist, and then he’s easing into you, sucking the breath out of your lungs, mumbling inelegant expletives under his breath about how tight you are, fuck you’re so tight for me, baby, shit.

You barely have enough composure to hold back the strangled sounds coming out of your mouth. Had this been some other hook-up, in some universe where you knew what Jeonghan meant to you, you would have savored the time it took to prepare for his cock, but knowing instead that Jeonghan was filling you up, stretching you out to fit inside you is enough to have you unraveling at the edges. Christ, you could die right here.

“Holy– shit,” you choke, head pitching back against the backseat. You screw your eyes shut, speechless, as Jeonghan pauses to allow you to adjust. He dips his head to press a few kisses to your sternum, his bangs playfully tickling your skin. One of his hands snakes down to intertwine his fingers in yours, slipping your arm above your head. The gesture is sweet and it ignites a burst of adoration for him in your belly. You release a deep breath.

“Hey,” Jeonghan murmurs, lips warm against your cheek. A weak whimper of discomfort escapes from your mouth, and he shushes you gently. “Hey, angel, I’m not going anywhere, I promise. ” He rubs the pad of his thumb across your palm. The pet name barely registers in your muddled state.

You let out a soft huff of air as he shifts in between your legs. Jeonghan quiets you with a deep kiss to your lips, his tongue pushing into your mouth with a new sense of urgency. You taste old hints of amber whiskey on his lips, the flavor just as intoxicating as the airy scent of his cologne pervading your nose.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your fingers clenching his hand as he pushes his cock in a few more inches. Now you were paying the price for your impatience. The pressure in your abdomen only increases.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” Jeonghan murmurs, “I just need you to relax for me a little bit more.” You nod, breath still hitched in your throat as you try to ease the tension in your body. Every synapse is on high alert, so overwhelmed by Jeonghan’s devotion and undivided attention that you can’t think. Your brain feels like it’s filled with fluff. Jeonghan captures your mouth with his own again, sighing as you rock your hips, impatient. You want to touch him like you had always imagined.

Equally as restless, Jeonghan curses and sinks the rest of his length into you in one motion, and you let out a low moan, tossing your head to the side with pleasure. The leather of the seat is cool and slippery under your cheek, soothing the blaze under your skin that seems to increase with each second. The burn has begun to subside, leaving behind nothing but an imperceptible tremor in your fingers.

Jeonghan kisses you on the cheek again, eyes inquisitive.

Are you okay? Does it hurt? How are you doing? they seem to question.

You smile wanly. “I’m so good,” you murmur, voice sticking in your throat as Jeonghan attaches his mouth to your neck. His fingers glide across the skin of your hips, nails biting into your flesh as if to distract you from the ache in between your legs.

The quiet of this moment, the slow and deliberate motion of Jeonghan’s chest, every point of contact between your bodies is seared into your brain forever.

Even despite the fact that you were fucking him in the back of his car, every other casual hook-up, every bland kiss, every other relationship suddenly felt meaningless in comparison to this. It was like every failed romantic encounter made you realize that what you needed had been in front of you all along.

Your roommate and best friend of six years has never looked more radiant, his dark locks ruined by your fingers, lips pink and parted in breathless awe, his body pressed so close to yours. You can’t help yourself, reaching out the hand that isn’t currently intertwined with Jeonghan’s to cup his face, a thumb tracing the soft contour of his bottom lip with painful reverence, like it was the first time you had actually seen him. His eyes seem to glow in the dark of the car as he sighs.

It is far too late in the night, and you are in far too deep to be making such emotional declarations, but now was not the time to think about the nature of your relationship, or what this meant for the two of you. At this point all you could was submit to the desires that had plagued you for so long.

Jeonghan smirks, a strange sadness hidden behind his eyes. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says. “Like you’re about to break my heart.”

You shake your head.“I think I might lo—,” you start to whisper, but your voice breaks before you can get the words out. You’re not sure what you want, and it would be wrong to pretend like you did, leading Jeonghan into a messy situation he didn't deserve. Instead, you pull him closer by the back of his neck, masking your inner discord by pressing a kiss to his mouth.

Jeonghan tips his head forward, a laugh of incredulity bubbling from his lips. “You’re unbelievable.”

You open your mouth to retort, cut off by a faint gasp as Jeonghan rolls his hips into you.

“Don’t lie to me, princess,” he murmurs before kissing you fiercely, teeth grazing against your bottom lip. Your delicate laughter shifts into a lethargic groan as Jeonghan thrusts into you with uncharacteristic ferocity, planting his free hand beside your head. Part of you wonders if he can see beyond your passive facade, sense all of the turmoil this one mistake might cause your entire relationship.

But when Jeonghan drags his cock out and pushes himself back in, you can’t think of anything else.

“You feel s-so good,” you pant, nails scrabbling at the smooth skin of his back as Jeonghan continues to languidly rock his hips, the feeling delicious and agonizing and satiating. You stomp down the impatience in your gut, instead consuming every deifying touch, stifled sound, and sinful taste from Jeonghan as he worships every inch of your body with his fingers.

Every stroke from Jeonghan’s cock fills you until you can’t talk, making your cunt clench as he mutters praises against your skin.

When you feel as if you might erupt, you dig your nails into Jeonghan’s arm, uttering, “Just fuck me, please,” and Jeonghan is more than happy to comply.

He throws one of your legs over his shoulder before thrusting into you with renewed vigor, hips slapping against your ass, clumsily pinning your arms above your head. This time, Jeonghan hardly gives you a moment to accommodate his size before he lifts your hips easily with both hands, fucking into you with new savagery. You stuff an arm into your mouth to bury the girlish whines that threaten to spill from your lips.

He was going to fucking ruin you. (Literally.)

Your head is whirling, twisting, turning, tipping upside down with the way Jeonghan holds you. You clap a hand to the window, fingers scrambling for purchase on the steamy glass. Your eyes are rolling, your jaw dropping open as Jeonghan leans forward to suck a hickey on your stomach, teeth skimming across the delicate skin of your abdomen. He smirks as you let out a quiet mewl, squirming in his bruising grip.

“Keep your eyes open, angel,” Jeonghan pants, “Look at me.”

God, you just wish he would stop fucking talking.

It takes everything in you to wrench your eyes open when Jeonghan is pleasuring you like he wants to see you crash and burn. His eyes are locked on your face, infinitely dark in the dim dusk light; he looks unearthly, mouth dropped open, face echoing the mind-bending pleasure tearing through your body.

You don’t know how much more you can take, feeling the tell-tale signs of release building in your core—the burn of arousal almost unbearable until it has you arching your body into Jeonghan, your voice coming out in pitiful, high-pitched noises of desperation. Except, you’ve never felt this good before and you don’t want it to be over—holding back your orgasm is the hardest thing you’ve ever done as Jeonghan ghosts his lips back over your sternum, breathing against your skin as he groans. The muscles in your abdomen tighten painfully.

But then Jeonghan mumbles, “Come for me, princess,” and you do while crying out his name, pulling him into a searing kiss, teeth clicking together as you breathe hot and heavy into his open mouth, your release spasming through your body.

You had wanted to wait, to feel Jeonghan come with you, to feel him fragment into pieces in your hands, to see him so needy for you. But when he’s mumbling how much he loves you against your neck, caressing every soft swell of your body with inexplicable tenderness, it’s a humbly lost cause.

“Shit!” you whine, pulling yourself up to wind your fingers through Jeonghan’s dark locks, as a particularly powerful rush of post-orgasm pleasure wracks your body. His hands are clammy on your skin, smoothing over your back as he relieves you through your orgasm.

It’s been a while since you felt anything that strong, and you lean your forehead against his shoulder, completely winded in the aftermath.

“Hey, I got you,” Jeonghan reminds you, cradling the back of your head as you hold him, utterly breathless. You press a kiss to his shoulder, unable to form any words, your mouth filled with cotton, your brain even fuzzier. The feeling of Jeonghan’s cock still buried, to the hilt, inside of you is enough to make you sweat as your arousal leaks onto his thighs.

His body is tense as he waits for you to come back down to earth, still rock hard inside of your cunt. You can tell how much Jeonghan wants to spoil you until you’re thoroughly fucked out, but it’s taking everything in him to stay motionless, to let you fully recuperate before you resume. The fog in your head is fading, and you creep your fingers through his hair, pressing your lips against his ear.

“Show me how much you love me,” you whisper, lowering your head to trail kisses across his shoulder, across his collarbones, up his neck, watching with smug delight as the words die in Jeonghan’s throat.

But now you’re eating your words, scratches gouged deep into the leather seats from your nails as Jeonghan takes you from behind, watching you bounce on his cock while you grovel and moan about how big he is, how he fills you up, how you’re all his, all for him, only for him.

Jeonghan grunts against your skin, one hand creeping up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as he presses a sloppy kiss to the base of your neck.

You’re already the most beautiful creature Jeonghan’s ever laid eyes on, but when you’re all stupid and slurring your words all because of him, he thinks he might go crazy. Watching your throbbing cunt take his whole length, seeing your body curve and fold as he molds you under his hands; God, he’s wanted you for so long.

It’s when you lean against his chest, voice raspy with lust, that Jeonghan knows he has you in the palm of his hand. He drops a hand to your cunt, middle finger drawing lazy loops around your clit. You grope around for Jeonghan’s other hand, wrapping his arm around your stomach as the pleasure builds again, threatening another more powerful release.

Except you’re exhausted from your emotional turmoil and the first orgasm, so it’s all you can do to grind down on his cock, the praises tumbling from Jeonghan’s lips buzzing alongside the adrenaline in your veins.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come, Jeonghan,” you whimper, twisting forward, head dropped as the coil in your gut tightens with every second. Jeonghan’s fingers continue to play with your clit as he kisses your shoulders. “Just like that—”

Except Jeonghan doesn’t respond, and you realize he’s close, too, in the way his hands press against your skin with hunger, the tightness in his body.

“Where-where do you—” Jeonghan gasps, and his voice is so tight in his throat that it sets your skin on fire. The coil is superheated, leaving you short-winded.

“—in me,” you mutter, and then Jeonghan is cussing loudly as he comes undone, wrapping around your body, chest hot against your spine. He comes in you, and you know it’s irresponsible, so so irresponsible, but when he’s holding you like this and repeating your name over and over like that— well, you’re not exactly in a place to make sound judgment. It’s enough to have you coming, too, loud and unapologetic, fingers still laced tightly in his. The two of you are panting, needy, and worn-out, as you clutch onto each other.

You feel his release seeping down the inside of your thighs, warm and sticky, as Jeonghan buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and for a moment you remain like that, holding him close to you like you’d always thought about.

It’s easy to pretend like this is normal, like the two of you are meant to be together, but the whispers of doubt still creep into the edges of your mind. Would you have taken him if he hadn’t confessed? Is this a one-time thing? What are you now?

But these are thoughts for another time, when you’re a little more rational, when you’re not pressed up against Jeonghan like this. You push them from your mind with a small jerk of your head, reaching up to twist your fingers in the hair at the nape of Jeonghan’s neck. He sighs, drawing your body just a little closer.

For now, everything is all right. As you gaze out the panoramic sunroof of Jeonghan’s car, you have to smile.

The stars are beautiful tonight.

—

a/n: this was originally supposed to be sweet and soft and gentle bc all of the jeonghan smut i see is so mean and ruthless, but of course i needed to be difficult and make it dramatic and kind of vaguely angsty and sad and confusing???? i’m sorry my lovely jjongjjongies </4 next one will be nice i promise

check out my other stuff! :)

&my first permanent tag! :,) @shadowofchwe <3 thanks to kenz for always listening to me ramble about all these silly ideas ilyyyyy

#kpop #kpop imagines #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen smut #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #yoon jeonghan #jeonghan #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan smut #jeonghan x reader #seventeen angst #jeonghan angst

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electrificata · 1 year

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muppet casting for succession. again because you people cant stop asking me

bunsen and beaker as tom and greg is almost too obvious, like im almost embarrassed to say that. similar deal with fozzie bear as connor, they have the same humor/pathos ratio, of course you see what im saying. janice is willa. hair. sam the eagle is kendall because they have the same kind of unearned thousand-yard stare. i think piggy as gerri, she's a sort of fun and unexpected choice for an only-sane-woman role. using the same logic, i want to cast kermit as roman. its a risk but kermit's wholesome good-guy persona is really going to play interestingly, maybe a little queasily with roman's libertine habits, and we already know he can handle the neurotic emotional stuff. i like animal for logan, to really make explicit the rage that drives him. logan roy makes no secret of the fact that he's a creature of instinct, that's how he succeeded in business, and i think this is a role that could push animal to find new depth in his already-strong persona and tendencies as a performer. shiv is a hard one! i think this could really be a moment for gonzo, he can handle her signature smugness and he can also telegraph that "oh no my schemes have blown up" moment with ease, adn thats a type of moment shiv is having just constantly. we need someone with a really big presence, like a lot of gravitational pull to play mattson and i think the swedish chef is the one for the job. i am NOT being insensitive to the swedish. rizzo could do frank in his sleep, so i say that we let him, same deal with scooter as karolina and rowlf as karl.

#hbo succession #the muppets

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starlitmark · 18 days

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐳 𝐚𝐬 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬

Summary: The Boyz as demigods Pairing: none Genre: humor, headcanon Rating: PG 13 Tropes: demigod au Warnings: language, mentions of violence, magic, ghosts, spoiler alert they're gay, implications of sex (Hyunjae) Word Count: n/a Note: this is for a combine au with them and NCT Dream 🥹 also this is @raibebe 's fault for enabling my cooking

NCT Dream Headcanon

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧

◈ Son of Hestia

◈ Discovered he was a demigod when he accidentally set fire to something

◈ He’s always cooking something for the friend group to try

◈ The exhausted father of the friend group

◈ You can probably find him sat by a hearth at any given moment

◈ He’s very easy to get along with and be comfortable around since his mom is in charge of protecting happiness and peace in the home

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐛 𝐁𝐚𝐞

◈ Son of Charitites

◈ He’s always been a happy bubbly guy and finding out who his mom was just made sense

◈ Found out cause his mom randomly popped in for a visit one day

◈ He takes being Kevin’s emotional support sunshine very seriously

◈ Got rather close with Jaemin from loitering in the mission control center (he’s neurotic about Kevin’s safety)

𝐍𝐚 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐧

◈ Son of Aphrodite

◈ Jaemin’s big brother <3

◈ Cutie pue who loves making pretty things

◈ Accidentally rizzed up a god

◈ Met his mom at the same time as Jaemin (and collected the scalloped shells with him too)

◈ Has no idea how pretty he is

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐉𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

◈ Son of Eros

◈ From the moment he started showing sexual interest in people he’s been a MAJOR flirt

◈ Has tried to rizz up everyone in the friend group at some point (didn’t even try with Mark or Juyeon… he thought they were straighter than anything in the world)

◈ Dad came to introduce and give him a “control your abilities” crash course after he made someone get a little too attached accidentally

◈ Once he and his boyfriend started dating his flirting turned into affectionate bullying each other

𝐋𝐞𝐞 𝐉𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧

◈ Son of Nyx

◈ Has always loved the night time and thrives during it

◈ Found out when he accidentally shadow weilded and scared himself

◈ Gifted in combat (shadow weaponry) and healing but is always worried he’ll fuck up healing somehow (his healing ability works best during the night)

◈ Super private about his feelings until something massive happens

◈ Everyone forgets his bisexual

𝐊𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧

◈ Son of Morpheus

◈ Ironically… he’s an insomniac…

◈ Started questioning his mom when he kept manifesting into people’s dreams

◈ Sassy and blunt but a sweetie to the people he’s close with

◈ Very close with Mark and tells him everything

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐞

◈ Son of Demeter

◈ He’s known it most of his life since his mom comes to check on him in the colder seasons

◈ Technically Persephone’s brother but he doesn’t acknowledge it

◈ Sass sass sass!!!!!

◈ Exhausted thanks to his two extraverted boyfriends

𝐉𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐢𝐧

◈ Son of Hermes

◈ Freaked himself out by teleporting across his room when he sneezed… mom decided it was finally time to tell him

◈ A little shithead /affectionate

◈ Teasing and bullying is his love language

◈ If he can prank at least one person a day he’s happy (his favorite victims are the grumps (Jeno/Kevin/Juyeon) and Jaehyun)

𝐉𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧

◈ Son of Pan

◈ Plants started growing really easily when he had a gardening project… then he could suddenly talk to animals…

◈ Very close with Jisung from being in the same area of study

◈ Likes to bother Chanhee in the greenhouse

◈ Loves chatting with random wildlife on the way to missions

𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐰𝐨𝐨

◈ Son of Helios

◈ Manifested a beam of sunshine in a pitch black room and quite literally screamed it scared him so bad

◈ A very gifted healer but it mostly works in the day time

◈ A little shit about being the son of the literal Sun

◈ Even though he’s a healer he does have good long range attacks

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐒𝐨𝐡𝐧

◈ Son of Hecitate

◈ Started seeing ghosts and having weird purple mist around his hands… he didn’t address it… then his mom showed up and lectured him about not using his gifts

◈ The first time he manipulated mista and warped reality he didn’t associate with anyone for a week

◈ Likes doing silly little spells and readings to play games with/on his friends

◈ One of the strongest but plays a support role on missions since he can’t always control all his abilities

Networks: @kwritersworld @k-vanity

Tag List: @jaehunnyy @kyusqult @ericssmile @anyamaris @jwnghyuns

#kwritersworldnet #kvanity #the boyz fanfic #the boyz au #the boyz imagines

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veryferaldistributions · 8 months

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My Top 10 Favorite Episodes of “My Two Dads”

(Some spoilers ahead for a show from 1987.)

1. Joey’s Mother-in-Law

(Stefan’s Voice) This episode has EVERYTHING! It’s funny, it’s heartfelt, it tackles serious topics. And it’s the episode that cemented in my head that Joey and Michael are meant to be seen as a domestic couple. And this is not just with the title, but with the interactions and plot of this episode. Michael’s mother is a great character. She’s neurotic and initially dismissive of Joey and Michael “playing at being parents,” sure, but she doesn’t mean anything in malice as much as genuine concern. And she comes around by the end of the episode and even, 100% serious, calls Joey her “son-in-law.”

2. Pop, The Question

A sad but necessary episode where Joey and Michael are about to “divorce” and finally decide to take a blood test to find out which one of them is Nicole’s biological father. This decision is made against Nicole’s will, who firmly does not want to have to pick between Michael and Joey. Despite an initial fake-out, the episode actually ends with the audience/characters never knowing the truth, which I think was very big of the writers.

3. Kind of a Drag

Not the best episode, but absolutely the funniest episode. All the humor is pooled into the last 15 minutes, and features Michael dressing in drag as Joey’s pregnant “wife” named Felicia. With whom he has 10 children. All in the attempt to scare a toxic woman away from dating Joey (“Fellas, is it gay if-“). And Nicole is accidentally privy to this moment of Michael crossdressing, and her reaction had me in stitches. I’m completely confident that when Joey is laughing at “Felicia’s” script and behavior, it’s Evigan breaking character.

4. The Artful Dodger

The ending made me cry. Nicole puts off an art class assignment for an unknown reason, only for her dads and the audience to realize at the very end that she doesn’t have any artistic talent, and sees that as proof that she is not Joey’s daughter. Seeing Nicole standing there in the apartment, crying and saying “Joey, I can’t draw!” broke me. Of course they end the episode with the message that certain talents are not genetic, and Nicole’s lack of talent is not proof of anything. And of course, that Joey loves her no matter what.

5. A Story in Development

Possibly the best Judge/Nicole episode. Nicole wants to be as “developed” in breast growth as a girl in her class, who seems to be getting all the attention from the boys. After several failed attempts from her dads trying to counsel her on this (and a HILARIOUS scene where she and Shelby stuff their bras with tissue and the dads are trying so hard not to laugh) Judge finally steps in and explains that being the first girl to get breasts isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

6. In Her Dreams

On the night of her 14th birthday, Nicole dreams what her life might have been like if her mom married either Michael or Joey. This was the only appearance of Marcy Bradford in the series (TBH, I didn’t love the actress they picked. She looks nothing like Nicole and it’s very distracting.) and this is generally a very sweet and cute episode, with a lot of dream logic jokes I enjoyed. It also sneaks in a hilarious but somewhat dirty joke about an implied threesome between Marcy, Michael, and Joey.

7. Nicole’s Big Adventure

This was my episode where I was really and truly like “they don’t just love Nicole, they ADORE her.” Nicole sets out on a weeklong field-trip with her class to go camping, leaving Michael and Joey anxious wrecks. Though they try to have a “guys night” (playing poker with the gayest group of “straight” men I’ve ever seen), they end up getting a call from the camp that Nicole has broken her foot, and they drop everything to bring her home.

8. Sweet Sixteen, See Appendix

This episode flashes back and forth between Nicole in the hospital with appendicitis, and a few days prior where she’s trying to plead her case to spend her 16th birthday skiing with her friends instead of with her dads. The story is, overall, focused on the dads learning to let go and let Nicole be more independent. But, unlike “Nicole’s Big Adventure,” the episode also emphasizes how much Nicole still needs them. On top of that, it’s a genuinely cute episode of Michael and Joey fretting over their kid.

9. Say Goodnight, Gracie

Joey offers to babysit his girlfriend’s infant daughter, an offer which Michael staunchly disagrees with. Gracie, the baby, ends up crying all night and Michael gets stuck as the sole babysitter after Joey gets sick. Purely a self-indulgent love for this episode. I imagine that Gracie is Baby Nicole. And Michael is just adorable for how he fawns over her. The episode also makes a great argument in support of single-parents and is one of the slightly more feminist episodes of the series.

10. The Pilot/Soho’s By You

The first two episodes of the series really feel like one big episode, as they set up the dynamic for this unusual family. In the first episode, Joey and Michael “inherit” Nicole during the will reading of Marcy Bradford, then argue over who will raise her, and in the second episode they attempt to live separately as co-parents before Nicole literally guilt-trips them into living together. It’s a great start to a wonderful show.

#my two dads #top ten list #joey harris #michael taylor #nicole bradford

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kylo-wrecked · 8 months

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what are ur sim traits? 👀

sims 3: grumpy, neurotic, good sense of humor, absent-minded, and observant.

sims 4: erratic, bookworm, active. (i use mods for ts4 and completely forgot you can only have three. i want to mod a trait bundle that's like 'horse girl' and 'intimidated by horse girls.')

everyone should do this for their muses the moment i have a moment to make a dumb muse quiz out of this question.

#ooc #dedinside1995 #just another manic munday #<333 #{simmers: i hate the sims 4 it's not like people randomly start doing pushups at their friend's house irl}#{me: *doing pushups at their friend's house* if i stop moving for 90 seconds i'll die :~D}

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sinisterexaggerator · 2 years

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Warnings: Kissing, flirting, sexual innuendos, humor, blowjobs, male receiving oral. Smut / fluff / mildly dubious consent but not really? Dry-humping, self-esteem issues, self-degradation, self-doubt, mild feelings of worthlessness and slight depression.

Word count: 4.8k+

Summary: Shriv Suurgav is overworked - he sits alone, or tries to, in his office. You’ve come to bother him, or better yet, help him find a way to relieve his stress. This “Duros under duress” must relax.

Notes: I write Shriv Suurgav entirely different from the way I write Cad Bane, so be prepared for a more “ stream of consciousness” type style. I love getting inside this neurotic Duros’ head. Inspired by me eating a lollipop on the way home from work. “A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.” - @amiquinn99

Half a parsec. No. Maybe a whole parsec.

Two parsecs?

Perhaps a parsec was not the right unit of measurement to use in this situation, but Shriv absolutely felt that was how far away he was from finishing this list of menial tasks that was supposed to get done by the end of the day.

It was too much for just one day. Or any day. It was never ending; just a nearly insurmountable heap of red tape and bureaucracy, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Well, almost nothing.

He supposed he could launch himself out of an airlock, but death might be just a little bit worse than having to answer to Lando about this one particular report that was due two standard hours from now.

Who was keeping track of this stuff, anyway? Would they know if he hadn’t submitted it on time? Was Lando really that interested in learning about the finer points of the Pathfinder’s last ground assault? The fact the 61st mobile infantry had lost so many soldiers on Haidoral Prime that they were organizing a recruitment event to try and persuade locals to join their cause?

Not to mention the dangers of Imperial espionage – you never knew who was going to show up to these things. That’s why he stayed away from them. He was too skeptical – they said he would only hinder the process. It was fine by Shriv. He had better things to do.

Let them deal with the repercussions. They couldn’t say he hadn’t warned them.

Of course, the stress of those better things alone was enough to give anyone a stroke; but Shriv did what he did best in these scenarios: he sucked it up. Only today it wasn’t going so well. He had too much on his mind.

When did he not have too much on his mind?

Shriv couldn’t remember the last time his head was absent of thought, negative or otherwise, though negative seemed to be predominant. For a moment, Shriv felt like he had forgotten what it was like to relax, and that made him frown to himself because no one else was around to see it.

He was thankful no one else was around to see it.

For one, they might ask questions, and two, he wasn’t in the mood to explain his… mood.

He tried keeping up appearances with the cadets. They already thought he was a curmudgeon. They called him a killjoy behind his back.

He had heard about it second hand from Luke – he wanted Shriv to be nicer to the new blood, as he called them. He said he came off as “scary” and “mean,” and that he should be trying to instill a sense of camaraderie, giving inspirational speeches, not the opposite.

Shriv wasn’t trying to instill anything. He was just telling it like it is. If they couldn’t handle his authenticity, well …

Sooo sorry I don’t find fighting wars and nearly dying everyday to be the pinnacle of excitement. I apologize for warning them about the risks and dangers involved in going up against an evil, despotic Empire who rather kill them than use them as slave labor just for wearing this damn uniform.

That was what he had wanted to say. Instead, he said: “Yeah, sure, OK.”

Then he had coughed on purpose, followed by a terse: “Commander.”

The terseness had also been on purpose.

Oh, but Shriv wasn’t considered to be his equal even though he was not only a member of the Special Forces, but a Commander in the Alliance Navy, a Marksman, and a damn good pilot.

Far from it.

Luke Skywalker was a Jedi with magical force wieldy powers that could make people smack into walls, or he could slice them in half with his glowy laser sword-thing.

He won medals and made girls smile.

Shriv only made girls give disgusted faces.

He supposed he should be thankful he was on their side, not annoyed one bit that he had told him how to do his job he had been doing since before Luke had even bothered to show up.

Yeah, OK, so he had blown up a Death Star.

Even Shriv had to admit that was impressive, but he didn’t want to.

Besides, he had help, but everyone seemed to forget that little tidbit of information.

Han Solo didn’t forget that tidbit of information.

In fact, he talked about it daily.

Ten minutes went by before Shriv realized his datapad had gone idle and he was staring at a blank screen with his stylus pinched between two fingers and his teeth.

Well, they were more like fangs, but he called them teeth. He didn’t want to draw any attention to them unnecessarily. He already got weird enough looks as is. Being one of the only Duros on this particular ship had its ups and downs.

For one thing, he didn’t have to worry about anyone getting territorial on him, and for another, he felt like he couldn’t relate to anyone.

Everyone had such … small heads. Skin instead of scales. Tiny eyes instead of big red or yellow ones. Hair.

Hair …

He would be loath to admit it, but he liked the stuff. It was … interesting.

Shriv stared at his reflection gazing back at him for a moment in the blackened screen realizing he looked … tired. He had the thought to get a cup of caf at the same moment you cleared your throat.

Shriv jumped almost imperceptibly right before he pretended to look like he was doing something important, his eyes darting up just enough to get a full view of your kneecaps before they shot back down to look at nothing in particular.

“That door there, it was closed, I think?” It wasn’t a question, more like a statement given with a little bit too much attitude, his inflection rising at the tail end of the last word so as to impart just how much your appearance had annoyed him.

He refused to give you any more of his attention, assuming maybe you would do him the favor of leaving him alone when he so clearly didn’t want to be bothered, but the Galaxy was an unforgiving place. Instead of doing that, you stepped inside the room.

“No,” your feminine voice rang out, haughty yet somehow flirtatious at the same time, “It was wide open.”

Shriv’s lips, or the lips he had, settled into a scowl, not letting you get the best of him. He thought he recognized you, but he was trying very hard not to focus on anything but his façade of busyness. If he pretended to be busy long enough maybe you would leave. Then maybe he would also get some work done.

“Well, would you mind shutting it?” he asked, trying to keep the irritation from his words but it was not at all working.

You coyly did what he had requested.

He should have been more specific. “With you on the other side,” he said dryly.

At this point you took a step closer and Shriv got an eyeful of your thick thighs as you strolled forward. Then you had the nerve to sit down in the only other chair left available; the one right across from him.

That’s when he was forced to look at you face-to-face. Shriv cleared his throat this time. You were one of the newer recruits; one of the ones he had recently yelled at for not knowing how to hold a blaster steady. You had caught on eventually, faster than some of the others in your cohort.

But … why were you in his office? And why had you closed the door?

Well, he had asked you to, that’s why.

“I’m busy,” he stated, shifting his eyes to look down at his darkened datapad.

“I can see that,” you smirked, kicking your legs out over the arm of your chair.

“Look, can I help you?” he grouchily questioned you. He almost felt bad the minute it left him. It was just so hard not to be so rude all the time when you were constantly under duress.

Duros.

A Duros under duress.

Shriv hadn’t liked the tone you were using. It sounded like you were mocking him.

He couldn’t blame you, really. He had been caught red handed doing nothing and he already felt guilty enough, as it were.

The guilt. It always there. The nagging sensation that he should be doing something twenty-four hours a day lest someone die or lose a limb.

But he thought he heard something else, too. Like you were eating something in his presence. It was the strangest thing. So strange in fact he bothered to look at you.

You had a piece of candy in your mouth, the end of which was attached to a stick. Shriv shook his head at you as you pulled it from between your lips, sucking ever so gently as you grinned at him.

“Gods, you’re hot-” you started off.

“-what?”

“-headed. Hotheaded.”

He blinked. He didn’t know what else to do or say for that matter. It took him a second to recuperate. His eyes were focused on your mouth he noticed; the Duros was suddenly lost for words.

That didn’t last long however as he managed to make a come back from this suddenly not at all awkward situation.

“Wh-what is that? Is that a… lollipop?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed casually, sucking on the red orb again that was shiny with your spit. You swirled the sweet tasting sugary substance with your tongue. It was also kind of tart.

Sour and sweet. Just like your commanding officer, you mused.

Shriv stared at you. You stood out in his mind as one of the recruits who might turn out to be a handful. You tend to talk back to your superiors, but you seem to mean well.

You were fierce, something the Rebellion needed, and your heart was in the right place – but your mouth.

Your mouth was currently wrapped around something that was threatening to burn Shriv’s cheeks red-hot; hotter than the Lava back on Sullust would have been had he not of managed to escape - no thanks to Lando.

He suddenly remembered helping you of all things. It had been a few weeks now. He so rarely did that. Helped people directly, that is. He did his job and kept his head down, but he had … wanted to.

Hells, up close you had been … cuter than he thought. It was the wrong thought. He wasn’t allowed to think like that.

He did what he had set out to do; adjust your stance. He had tried not to touch you too much. He nudged your foot with his boot then kept going down the line.

He was pretty sure you had stared after him. He remembered ignoring it and then forgetting about you entirely. He hated to admit it to himself, but you would probably be dead in a few months, anyway - just another soul taken down by the occasional well-placed aim of a Stormtrooper or someone another.

But here you were. And you had asked him something.

“Want one?” You dug into your pocket and retrieved another lollipop, waving it in the air at him. This one was still sealed off from the outside elements – and blue. Like him.

Figuratively and literally.

Shriv balked, wrinkling up his forehead at you. “What?!” he asked heatedly. “N-no!”

He paused, frowning a little more than he already had been. “Where’d you even get that-”

He stopped himself, redirecting his curiosity to something he was more comfortable with – ambivalence. “You know what, it doesn’t matt-”

“Brought them from home,” you answered quickly, not letting him finish his sentence. “I like candy. It brings a little joy to your day, don’t you think?”

Shriv’s eyes narrowed even though he hadn’t meant for them to. “Candy’s for … kids. It’s what parents give their younglings to either placate or silence them.”

“I always thought it was a bit of a reward for being good.”

“Well, either way – it’s … inappropriate.”

“Oh,” you lazily retorted. Then you smiled again.

You gave a quick lick to your lollipop.

Shriv tried not to look directly at you.

“Do that. Just keep doing… that - scolding me,” you teased. His temper did not bother you at all, even though you bothered Shriv a lot.

Shriv sighed. His voice lowered as he attempted to give off his best impression of authority, though it was lacking… somehow. He wasn’t a natural when it came to this. He had to try. Hard.

“Look, either tell me what you want or get out of-”

You sat up quickly. “You,” you shot back. “I want you.”

Your hand had moved. One was… touching yourself. Shriv didn’t bat an eye or move as you palmed your crotch through your jumpsuit, the other hand still holding onto that damn lollipop as your soft, wet, pink…

No.

“I-I’m-I’m-I’m sorry?” Shriv stammered.

You kicked your legs around and stood. That … wasn’t a good sign.

Was it?

Shriv knew he didn’t hear you right. He knew you weren’t walking towards him. This was all… some kind of dream. Some kind of … nightmare? Fantasy? Lucky break?

He didn’t think to budge. He might of. He just… couldn’t seem to feel his legs anymore. He had gone numb from head to foot. He suddenly wondered if he was having that stroke after all.

“Why don’t you relax, sir…”

Shriv did the exact opposite in that moment. His shoulders stiffened. He forgot how to breathe suddenly.

Sir?

Did you say it that way on purpose? It wasn’t a normal “sir” like you would expect a cadet to address a superior officer. No, it had sounded like you were …

Shriv began to panic as you continued your slow advance towards him. It was almost as if you were dragging it out on purpose just to torture him. His green blood was rushing in his ears; he couldn’t hear anything but the thrum inside his head as you had the audacity to come behind his desk.

“Uhh-uhh…” Shriv said.

That was … articulate.

Someone somewhere must be having a good laugh at his expense, he gathered. The only problem was he didn’t know whether that person was corporeal, or ethereal. He was unwilling to call it a God, though Gods were known for their less than fair treatment of their subjects.

Jokes on you God, I don’t believe in you.

Though, maybe it was a particularly cruel God who had it out for Shriv just because he denied their existence.

No. Wait.

This was karma, wasn’t it? This was the way the universe was going to get back at him for all those snarky, underhanded comments that everyone most assuredly deserved at some point or another and that Shriv did not regret in the least bit for saying.

Whatever was happening, he wasn’t sure he was going to like it.

That, or he would like it too much.

Shriv held his breath as you did the unthinkable. He hoped to all Sith hells the door was locked and that Lando or some other person of rank, or any person at all for that matter, wouldn’t come marching in and see him like this; with a woman straddling his lap.

Shriv did the only thing he could do. He put his hands up. He wouldn’t be caught dead touching you. He didn’t have permission for that. But, you didn’t have permission to sit on his lap, either, yet here you were.

Shriv could smell the cherry flavor on your breath, and then he could see the lollipop itself as you plucked it out of your mouth with an audible pop. You had thrown it behind you to some unknown location – he wondered who was going to have to clean that up.

Shriv suddenly felt… sad. That was the only way to describe it.

You were beautiful, too beautiful to be doing this with the likes of him – in the human way, that is. Maybe he needed to take you … somewhere.

Definitely not his quarters, though he was a Duros in his prime. He had thought about it for a fleeting instant, but it was replaced by the idea that you sorely needed to see a medic.

Shriv’s heart jumped to his throat as you wrapped your arms around his neck. You were grinding your pelvis into his … his …

He opened his mouth to speak and all that came out was a rattled breath of air. He felt faint for a moment. He overcame every insensible thing he wanted to do to you and instead meekly stuttered out a few sparse words.

“Pl-lease d-don’t …don’t … this isn’t… I don’t wanna… It’s cruel to…”

He couldn’t seem to complete a thought, or a sentence, until it came out all at once in a rush, Shriv barely able to contain his flustered, nervous, excitable energy.

“Don’t treat me like this. I know I’m an ass, but whoever put you up to-”

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

Shriv caught himself. He had craned his neck just a fraction of an inch, like that kind of thing could actually be possible for someone like him. This had gone on for long enough and it had barely even started.

He regained his courage, or more like, tried to hold onto what little dignity he had left.

“You shouldn’t-”

You sealed his lips shut with that kiss you had so wanted.

…toy with people’s emotions.

You rode against him as you pressed your tongue into his mouth. You moaned into him, taking Shriv’s raised hands and grasping them so you could place them firmly against your breasts.

You couldn’t stop. He smelled; tasted; felt wonderful beneath you. He was sizeable. His cock had risen just as you had expected it to.

It was the only thing you wanted out of him.

Shriv groaned until it transformed into a low whimper against your hot and hungry mouth. His dick was threshing against the confines of his trousers, and he was embarrassed of himself – of his own neediness.

What is she … she…

A more merciful God, if that was what this was all about, would have ended his life quickly back on Sullust. What he wouldn’t have given to have drowned in lava right about now.

Well, not drowned. More like, incinerated. Melted. That thing his willpower was doing currently.

Ughhh, and you tasted like candy … sickening …ly sweet.

Shriv fought himself internally as he was stricken with an intense bout of instincts. He wanted to devour you – in the good way, but … he didn’t even know your name.

Not that he would have done that, anyway.

“Swee-sweetheart…” he mumbled out against your lips.

You pressed his hands tighter around your perky tits as you ended the kiss with such force that he nearly gasped as he was pushed away from you.

Your pelvis undulated across his lap as you stroked the curved shape of his head with both hands, practically humping him through your clothes until you couldn’t stand it anymore.

You stood, leaving Shriv a mess as he was trembling in his chair, looking up at you with two pitiful, beautiful red eyes.

But, he had expected this.

You had kissed him, and now you didn’t want to anymore.

That wasn’t exactly a surprise, and he was glad that he had mentally prepared himself for this, otherwise …

His hands remained open in the air, cupped, yet empty.

Shriv jerked as you unexpectantly fell to your knees before him.

The color drained from his face; he was a ghost, a specter of his former self as you unzipped his pants.

This wasn’t really happening. He should stop you – degrading yourself like this.

It was…

How far is she …

Shriv gripped the arms of his chair the minute your warm human hand found his hardened cock. He wondered if you even knew what you were doing – not in that sense, but had you ever …?

The twinkle in your eye made him… anxious. Perhaps you’d never seen a Duros’ … and he had never seen …

Duros were drastically different than humans as far as Shriv was aware, though the parts could still match up he’d heard. Some of Shriv’s friends back home had decidedly more luck with this kind of thing.

He tried to control himself as his knee wanted to involuntarily twitch. He was much too jittery.

This girl’s going to think you’ve never gotten a…

Well, you haven’t.

He didn’t have much more time to bicker with himself at this point because you had planted your soft, plush lips around the girth of his member, your tongue beginning to wind and encircle him like it had that lollipop.

It took more than self-control to try and stop himself from cumming that very minute – it was a damn miracle was what it was.

Shriv saw stars; constellations, entire galaxies expand and contract as he closed his eyes. His ragged breath hitched in his throat as he pressed his body backward into his office chair.

His gloved fingers dug in harder to the armrests, Shriv unable to keep himself from biting down on his lower lip with his fangs – teeth.

A volley of Durese curse words escaped him, followed by an apology. He hadn’t meant to speak such foul language, but he could hardly help it.

Holy karkin’ hells, she’s really going for it – what is this girl on – maybe she’s mentally…

All coherent thought flew away in that moment, your thickset muscle making waves along his pliant spines and ridges. The sensation tickled the roof of your mouth, and his slick was pure saccharine - you couldn’t get enough.

It was better than candy.

Shriv did something that made you ache with longing as your cheeks hollowed out; you slowed your pace, moaning purely out of an indescribable feeling of total gratification as he had finally given in – the fingers of one hand had moved to run through your hair.

It only encouraged you.

Shriv didn’t know why he did it – it just seemed like the right thing to do. The fact that you hummed against his cock like a well-tuned ion engine made him think it was the right choice.

You were slurping; sucking on him like he was the best damn thing you had ever tasted – his eyelids fluttered as his eyes nearly rolled towards the back of his head.

He thought he should say something, but what would it have been? It had been hard enough before this to enunciate properly. Now he was just going to sound plain laserbrained.

Shriv kept his mouth shut, or at least he tried to.

Something… happened. He had not meant to do this, but a low rumble escaped him. It was a sound demarcating pleasure from a Duros who was … experiencing something quite pleasant … sexually. Usually.

There were different noises that signified different things, and this one had definitely been a … purr. Or a kind of purr. Duros didn’t purr … they just…

OK, it was a purr.

You sat up on your knees to get better leverage at the agreeable way Shriv had announced his affection for you. This was going better than you had expected.

You nuzzled your head into Shriv’s palm to let him know you liked what he was doing, and he responded by making the cutest “mmm” you had ever heard.

You took the time to glance up from your work and his face was contorted in a visually pleasing show of ecstasy. You were so very happy with yourself – he was finally relaxing.

Now for the finale.

Shriv rasped for air as you took him to the hilt, fully imbibing his blue-green shaft down the bottomless pit of your throat. Your head bobbed slow and steady, almost devious in your ministrations, taking your time to feel every inch of his unique shape.

You freed your hands, though your mouth still had a firm grasp on his cock. You pinched either side of his hips as you practically swallowed his entire phallus. You had no gag reflex. Shriv retaliated by giving your cheek the most loving, gentle caress you had ever experienced.

Shriv didn’t know what he was doing – where he was - there was only one thing. The pull of his abdominal muscles as he was slowly being coaxed to the brink of an orgasm. He was honestly surprised he had lasted this long, and he felt it was something to be proud of.

“I’m gonna – gonna- you better-” was all he could manage to say as a warning, but that did not stop you. You persisted more readily.

A supernova exploded inside Shriv’s brain at the same time his seed discharged from the slit at the top of his cock like an errant bolt of blaster fire, though thankfully it hadn’t been as quick.

It was more of a slow torrent; a sea of… semen. It was cold, slightly sticky, and it reminded you of another kind of candy – only this one was sour. That didn’t keep you from guzzling every drop.

A brilliant burst of light had enveloped Shriv and permeated throughout his entire being. His body felt like it broke atmo and someone had forgotten to turn on the artificial gravity.

Shriv’s mind, on the other hand, felt like it had been overtaken by a nebulous cloud of fog and vapor, caught in a swirling haze of thoughts, feelings, and emotions that coalesced together to make him cry out a pathetic sound of long overdue bliss.

He went blank.

Something had short-circuited. It must have –

His eyelids flitted until he was able to fully open them to gaze at one of the most beautiful sights his sore eyes had ever seen.

You.

And you were wiping your mouth off on the back of your hand.

Shriv blushed full flush in the face; bluer than Bantha Milk, though he was already blue to begin with.

You rose slowly to the full extent sitting on your knees would give you. You rubbed your belly as you licked your lips seductively. You could not deny this could easily become addicting – his flavor – the expression on his face – the way his fangs peeked out of his half open mouth as he had trouble looking into your eyes.

You smiled, you gave a little “mn” and watched him turn an even darker shade as he hassled in his chair, trying to slow his oxygen intake.

You reached out and gently caressed his face right down the length of his intriguing scar, asking him a simple question, your voice soft.

“Do you feel better now?”

He responded with a small nod, his brow ridge knitting inward. He seemed honestly, genuinely confused.

“Why’d you - what was -”

Shriv didn’t mean for it to come out sounding ungrateful, he was admittedly just curious. Nothing had ever happened to him like this before, or at all, if he was being truthful.

“You know what they say …” you offered idly, standing to your feet. Shriv watched after you, not bothering to get up as he was glued to his chair and didn’t know if he would ever be able to peel himself out of it again.

The Duros shook his head, answering with a small “nuh-uh,” as that was all he could manage to muster in his current state. He wanted to say something more profound, or maybe appreciative, but his tongue and his brain weren’t communicating like he thought they should be.

It was probably for the best, he surmised.

“A blowjob a day keeps the melancholy away.”

His eyes went wide at the concept. A blowjob … a day?

Were you serious?

Is she…

That’s gotta be…

A joke?!

She’s gonna… do this… everyday??!

Shriv was either terribly frightened, or terribly turned on in that moment. Maybe a little of both, though he did not have time to speak or react besides the shocked and somewhat appalled look on his face that only made you giggle as you turned towards the exit of his office.

You sauntered towards the door - Shriv immediately fumbled with his pants, putting himself back into place, hoping that no one saw you enter, nor would they see you leave.

He watched as you vanished from his sight. You closed the door with yourself on the other side this time.

Shriv did nothing, even though that report was still due – and now within the next hour or less.

He didn’t know how he felt about any of this, only that he was … relaxed.

But there was one thing he did know - and that was that he still didn’t know your name.

—-

Masterlist

#Shriv Suurgav #Shriv x Reader #Shriv Suurgav x Reader #Star Wars #Battlefront 2 #Star Wars Battlefront 2

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mademoiselle-red · 1 year

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TC chapter 2 reread, some disorganized thoughts (part 2 of 2):

Among the first things we learn about Ralph is that he spent the summer holiday working his passage to Iceland and back on a trawler, was recently accepted for a research expedition to the Arctic, and had the bleak courage of the self-disciplined neurotic. And because of his sexuality, he loses everything he worked so hard for. I get so angry at society & homophobia in general whenever I read stuff like this. I’m not surprised Laurie is still indignant on behalf of Ralph seven years later. I don’t think this is something Laurie will ever stop feeling angry about, especially since Ralph refuses to see himself as a victim of injustice, so Laurie has to do it for him. It’s quite romantic and sweet, the way Laurie carried Ralph’s emotional baggage for him all these years.

Also love how Laurie observes Ralph’s extremely tidy room, neat hair, and shirt that looks like he’d just put it on. Right now, he only sees Ralph at the surface level. Later, he would fall in love with the way the neat hair gets ruffled after their love-making, and look protectively and tenderly at the perfectly clean shirt Ralph leaves on the bed because it’s wasn’t clean enough for him. He sees beyond the tidy exterior and loves Ralph all the more for the messy bits and neuroticisms below the surface.

When Laurie says “you can’t actually kill me, so it won’t stop me for long” after Ralph threatens him with violence, that’s the moment Ralph realizes that Laurie loves him. He realizes that Laurie would rather get knocked out cold than abandon him to his fate. And this realization completely changes their dynamic. Ralph drops his fist. They become equals.

When Ralph tells Laurie the accusations against him are true, “a man disappeared: a right-thinking, crisply defined, forcible person, rather dogmatic and intolerant in a decent, humorous way; the nearest in succession of Laurie’s potential selves” and was replaced by a “usurper […] concerned only with his sudden perception […] that the gods feel pain.” This happens again in chapter 16: whatever moral dogmatism he entertained about living a chaste life is thrown out the window the moment he realized that Ralph was in pain. Like in chapter 16, “something has to be done, and no one else was here to do it. All the rest would have to be thought about later.” Nothing is more important to Laurie than comforting Ralph when he is in pain. In every instance where Laurie notices Ralph’s distress, he can’t help but reach out to soothe the pain. He loves him so much 🥰🥰🥰

“Laurie followed him, and looked over his shoulder. Lanyon straightened abruptly; his light, fine hair flocked across Laurie’s cheek.” LOL I love how Laurie just casually invades his personal space, and gets a feel of Ralph’s hair on his cheek. Perfect fodder for those dreams too direct to fascinate an analyst 😍

And Laurie being so sensitive to their hands touching as Ralph hands him The Phaedrus! I love how there’s so much sexual tension between them right from the get-go 👀

I love how Laurie is so proactive in this scene about not wanting this to be the end of their budding relationship, not wanting to let Ralph go. When Ralph says “it’s too late now”, Laurie counters with “is it?” So adorable! 🥰

And Ralph turns him down because he thinks it’s “too much responsibility” for him to be his first boyfriend when Laurie hasn’t even figured out his own sexuality yet. Laurie counters with “I can take my own responsibility”, already demonstrating an eagerness to be Ralph’s equal and pursue a romantic relationship with him. He repeats this phrase again in chapter 13 when he thinks Ralph is being condescending. In chapter 16, Laurie finally gets the opportunity (and the maturity, wisdom, ability) to take responsibility in their relationship.

And I’ve said this before, but I simply adore how after their kiss, Laurie immediately demands more: “but when can we—” 😘😘😘

In my opinion, sixteen year old Laurie displays so much more romantic initiative and emotional maturity than nineteen year old Andrew (or Laurie’s idealized perception of Andrew, since he doesn’t actually know the man very well). Like, nineteen is still very young, but Laurie is sixteen here and Ralph is nineteen! And they manage to have a rather productive and relatively open conversation about queerness!

Also, since I’m only a little older than Ralph’s age right now, I can say that from just my own experience, Ralph isn’t “too mature” for his age at all. Not at 19 and definitely not at 26. I studied abroad and lived independently in a foreign city at age 19, and got into all the typical misadventures of people in that kind of situation. I was going through a quarter-life crisis when I turned 26, starting a new job in a new career path, reevaluating my hopes and dreams, and packing up my life and moving across continents, again. Like, nothing about Ralph seems non-age-appropriate. His experiences are atypical in that he worked his way up the merchant navy ladder instead of remaining more sheltered in an academic environment, and is in the military during wartime instead of a normal mid-twenties career, but he still behaves his age. I really don’t understand why so many readers find him mature for his age. Like, sorry if this is TMI but I knew what sex was when I was 19, and I had a decent-ish life skills when I was 26!

Also, Laurie’s eagerness and devotion to Ralph in this chapter really strengthened my feeling that the Ralph/Laurie ship only sails because it is a team effort, because both Ralph and Laurie have the courage and the will to act on their love, even when it is difficult, even when their futures are uncertain.

#the charioteer

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ao3feed-zukka · 11 months

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Talk Too Much

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/p6oOWzS

by thehundrethpoet

“What’s this?” Zuko asks, arching a brow as he takes the napkin he’s offered, eyes flickering over the digits inked in smudged calligraphy but readable. “My number. So you can call me later.” The guy with blue eyes and hickeys along his collarbone says, smiling confidently for a moment. Truly, only a moment. Next thing he knows some insecurity passes by his face and he is crumbling into excuses, talking too fast and too much and this side of neurotic. “I mean, if you want to call me later. I don't want to assume, it's just last night was nice— not nice, hot— no, not hot, good. Last night was good and I like you so— not like you as in love you, like you as in you're nice— not nice, hot— no, not hot— fuck!” His face meets his hands and he lets out a quiet sound of gut-wrenching despair. “You're a rambler, aren't you?” He answers amusedly, good eye crinkling at the edges with a held back smile and bad eye hidden under a dark curtain of hair.

(Or the one where Zuko's one time flings talks like he expects not to be listened to and Zuko listens. Over and over again.)

Words: 35226, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 2 of knit your soul to mine and i will turn you into a poem

Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Aang (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Bato (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai (Avatar)

Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar)

Additional Tags: god help me people actually liked my first one - freeform, and it’s been three whole ass years, but atla live action looks GOOD, and i finally made it, so here we go aGA I N-, I AM BACK, hide your feelings hide your children, hi terra, I'm sorry this was meant to be your Christmas gift and I am so majorly late, like... by three whole ass years, but it's still my gift to you, it’s just not Christmas, yay (?), pardon a girl her shortcomings, to all of you i hereby promise, no angst just softness..., fine there's ONE (1) piece of angst, but it's just the onE, i think, don't quote me on it, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff, Happy Ending, zukka - Freeform, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), Zuko's Scar (Avatar), Minor Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), minor Kataang, minor bakoda, Uncle Iroh And His Cup Of Tea, Azula (Avatar) is A Good Sister, Azula (Avatar) And Her Asexual Smolder, Poet Zuko (Avatar), Poet Zuko (Avatar) Supremacy, College Student Zuko (Avatar), College Student Sokka (Avatar), the title says everything you need to know, so does the summary, The Author Regrets Nothing, begone fics where these two insist on hurting each other through miscommunication, ( yes i am aware my previous Zukka fic is one such story what about it ), and let's have healthy and good communication!, here we fucking goooooooo

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/p6oOWzS

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #zukka #avatar: the last airbender #atla #zuko #sokka

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ao3feedzukka-blog · 11 months

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Talk Too Much

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47954218 by thehundrethpoet “What’s this?” Zuko asks, arching a brow as he takes the napkin he’s offered, eyes flickering over the digits inked in smudged calligraphy but readable. “My number. So you can call me later.” The guy with blue eyes and hickeys along his collarbone says, smiling confidently for a moment. Truly, only a moment. Next thing he knows some insecurity passes by his face and he is crumbling into excuses, talking too fast and too much and this side of neurotic. “I mean, if you want to call me later. I don't want to assume, it's just last night was nice— not nice, hot— no, not hot, good. Last night was good and I like you so— not like you as in love you, like you as in you're nice— not nice, hot— no, not hot— fuck!” His face meets his hands and he lets out a quiet sound of gut-wrenching despair. “You're a rambler, aren't you?” He answers amusedly, good eye crinkling at the edges with a held back smile and bad eye hidden under a dark curtain of hair. (Or the one where Zuko's one time flings talks like he expects not to be listened to and Zuko listens. Over and over again.) Words: 35226, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 2 of knit your soul to mine and i will turn you into a poem Fandoms: Avatar: The Last Airbender Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Zuko (Avatar), Sokka (Avatar), Iroh (Avatar), Azula (Avatar), Katara (Avatar), Toph Beifong, Aang (Avatar), Suki (Avatar), Bato (Avatar), Hakoda (Avatar), Ty Lee (Avatar), Mai (Avatar) Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka & Zuko (Avatar) Additional Tags: god help me people actually liked my first one - freeform, and it’s been three whole ass years, but atla live action looks GOOD, and i finally made it, so here we go aGA I N-, I AM BACK, hide your feelings hide your children, hi terra, I'm sorry this was meant to be your Christmas gift and I am so majorly late, like... by three whole ass years, but it's still my gift to you, it’s just not Christmas, yay (?), pardon a girl her shortcomings, to all of you i hereby promise, no angst just softness..., fine there's ONE (1) piece of angst, but it's just the onE, i think, don't quote me on it, Dorks in Love, Fluff and Humor, Romantic Fluff, Happy Ending, zukka - Freeform, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, Sokka (Avatar)-centric, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), Zuko's Scar (Avatar), Minor Mai/Ty Lee (Avatar), minor Kataang, minor bakoda, Uncle Iroh And His Cup Of Tea, Azula (Avatar) is A Good Sister, Azula (Avatar) And Her Asexual Smolder, Poet Zuko (Avatar), Poet Zuko (Avatar) Supremacy, College Student Zuko (Avatar), College Student Sokka (Avatar), the title says everything you need to know, so does the summary, The Author Regrets Nothing, begone fics where these two insist on hurting each other through miscommunication, ( yes i am aware my previous Zukka fic is one such story what about it ), and let's have healthy and good communication!, here we fucking goooooooo June 17, 2023 at 10:54PM

#IFTTT #Zukka #AO3Feed Zukka #Sokka/Zuko

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triviareads · 4 months

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Hi! I hope you’re doing fine :)

I was planning on reading the Bridgerton Chronicles, but I heard there are many books, so here’s my question: in what order should I read them?

Also, are they really that good? How’s the vibe of the books? Is it light and funny or heavy and angsty?

Thank you!

Hi! I do think each book in the Bridgerton series can be read individually and out of order, but it's nice to read them in order I think. The series is overall very light and set among London's high society (with a few exceptions— all mostly in aristocratic country estates and castles). Julia Quinn does good humor and banter (and she does rely on slapstick humor and physical comedy at times... The Viscount Who Loved Me in particular had a lot of this). The romances themselves range from solid to tepid, as do the plots, so here's how I'd rank them:

When He Was Wicked: The sexiest book of the eight, and very emotional because Francesca's husband dies at the beginning and the hero Michael is her husband's cousin and Michael and Francesca were close as well (there was definitely some flirting that occurred before John Stirling's death), so cue all the angst and guilt. Flashforward to when Francesca decides to remarry but freaks out over her feelings for Michael and flees to Scotland where the best seduction scene in the series (that also uses the title of the book) occurs. My favorite thing about this book is when they're basically playing a high-stakes game of "if I get you pregnant we'll have to marry" roulette until they finally get their shit together.

The Viscount Who Loved Me: Look, as much as Anthony is billed as a rake, I really don't think he is. Book!Anthony is a messy, somewhat neurotic man who decides to court Kate's seventeen year-old sister because she's the diamond of the season, but ends up falling for spinster Kate instead. The banter in this one is excellent, as are all these moments of physical comedy ranging from straight-up hilarious (Anthony falling into the river thanks to Newton the dog) to hot (Anthony panic-sucking the bee venom out of Kate's tit and Portia Featherington uttering the greatest line in the series, "Lud, girl, he had his mouth on your bubbies"), to questionable but still hot (Kate biting Anthony's leg from under his desk, and then Anthony basically forcing a first kiss on her). There is an accidental compromise followed by a forced marriage, only after which they fall in love.

It's In His Kiss: Gareth is another rake hero (illegitimate, has daddy issues, which is classic Julia), but the true standout in this book is Hyacinth, who's a spinster but a fun spinster with few qualms about B&E, gives good banter, and has relatively lesser inhibitions compared to the other 6 virgin heroines. The plot, from what I remember is just them repeatedly breaking and entering in order to find treasure hidden by Gareth's grandma(?), with a side of Gareth's daddy issues (that... may have influenced him to compromise and marry Hyacinth). Lady Danbury has a pretty big role in this book.

The Duke And I: This was one of the first historical romances I ever read, and my first impression was that it was really cute with a simple plot: Daphne is in his third season but is worried about her marital prospects because she's seen as One Of The Guys, so she agrees to fake-court her brother's best friend Simon, Duke of Hastings, except they're caught in a compromising position, Simon nearly fights a duel over her, but they marry. The big issue however, is that Simon doesn't inform Daphne that he doesn't want children (as opposed to being unable to have them, and Daphne doesn't know how sex works :/). Ultimately, Daphne sexually assaults Simon (he says no and he's drunk, but she continues anyway) and it's never treated as such nor does she ever repent so.... bear that in mind.

Romancing Mr. Bridgerton: Here's my thing— book!Penelope is a pretty solid heroine and I did enjoy the low-stakes, less-spiteful version of Lady Whistledown, her scandal sheet she secretly publishes. Basically, if you like an underdog heroine, she's not a bad one. What I disliked was how she tragically pined over Colin for over a DECADE, as well as how her weight loss was treated as a condition to her being seen as attractive and finding love (regardless of how many years prior it took place to her getting with Colin, narratively it's gross). Colin, on the other hand, is a relatively childish hero who actually gets jealous of Penelope for having purpose when he doesn't, at one point even grabbing her arm so tightly he knows it's going to bruise.

On The Way To The Wedding: Gregory Bridgerton never quite overcomes his baby-of-the-family status, even in his own romance. He spends a lot of it waffling between two women and Lucy the heroine was just... meh. You'd think a story where the hero kidnaps the heroine (for her safety ostensibly lol) would be more interesting... but it isn't.

An Offer From a Gentleman: Cinderella adaptation but a super dull one, tbh. The way the narrative virtue-signaled with how Sophie repeatedly refused to be Benedict's mistress always irritated me. And on Benedict's end, the man has zero game, keeps hounding Sophie while she's working for his mom, and it has literally the cringiest virginity-loss scene ever.

To Sir Phillip With Love: Genuinely the most horrific of the books which is saying something, considering #4. I despise Phillip for his brand of absentee fatherhood which literally involves turning a blind eye to abuse, he victim-blames his first wife Marina for her depression (and he basically sexually assaults a depressed woman who is unable to consent to having sex and is laying catatonic under him) and subsequent suicide and CONSTANTLY compares Marina to how "happy" and "cheerful" the heroine Eloise is, and he basically sees Eloise as a live-in sex doll and mother figure. Eloise herself is.... fine, as far a heroines go. But Phillips kids? They were horrible. Eloise deserved better.

I used to say this series is a good introduction-to-historical-romance series, but I think you can probably do better. Try Adriana Herrera's Las Leonas series (stunning, gorgeous), or Vivienne Lorret's Mating Habits of Scoundrels series (for that humor and banter), or KJ Charles' Doomsday series (which were marketed as Bridgerton-meets-Poldark).

#bridgerton #ask

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