#(Marie and the last name predicament)

[5hark-byt3]

Callie this is why you lost your gas station privileges

[therealslimshakespeare]

Gone Presley || chap. 5

Sarge 2nd Generation. || An early chapter from the memoirs of Bee DeWitt Presley, wife of Danny Presley. (I have such fun making these “extra” materials to go with this universe, things like tabloids or memoirs, etc.) So here’s Sarge’s daughter-in-law’s memoir pictured above.

Warnings: fluffy, based loosely on Brooke Shields’s harrowing time as a child actress so there’s mentions of awfulness on set and bad relations with her mother, a thirteen year old crushing hard on a sixteen year old. Elvis being an awesome dad, Shiloh having a led foot on Marie’s golf cart, studio lot shenanigans, the day that Bee met the Presleys…terrible descriptors of studio lots. Marie is a director by now, a lá Sofia Coppola

🏷️ Taglist: I used my old one since it’s been so long, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Circa: 1993

Chapter Five:

It’s a matter of course that in a life, unless that life is entirely stagnant which is only achieved by death, you can often look back and point to a single moment where everything changed.

Some of us have a series of those days, for others they come all in a rush in the early years, for some they are inconsequential little blasts of fate until the end, for others it’s a great crescendo up until the small slide of hours and years that make up their life.

And for me, by 13 years old, I thought I had had quite enough of them to last a lifetime. Until I met the Presleys, and everything, quite literally and metaphorically, changed for me.

All these previous little changes that had me so bored and no doubt had my readers in a similar predicament these past few chapters had me occupied most rigorously one day on Lot B in the Warner Brothers studio, filming my fifth take on my twentieth day of shooting my seventh film, a bit of a raunchy coming of age flick with the working name of Pretty Baby. Seeing as how the oldest age this coming of age film featured was thirteen, the studio sagaciously renamed it Carmella upon release and I won a golden globe nomination for my performance of childhood sex work.

I also finished ninth grade grammar that year, precocious regarding literature but hopeless in chemistry. Which is perhaps why I’d never managed to be particularly rebellious outside of reading material, I could dress however I pleased with my mother’s indifferent standards and my behavior was moderately subdued as might be expected from an overtaxed child performer- how very different was this outlook compared to that of the vivacious little hellion who drove her big sister’s green painted golf cart onto my set and asked if I could I play.

It will show you just how very domesticated and subdued a child I was that upon seeing a fellow preteen driving like mad on the studio lot, I did not so much envy the fact she had a golf cart or her father’s stupidly perfect face but rather, the freedom to play about at 1:45 in the afternoon of a weekday. What kind of carefree existence was that?

Unthinkable! Off putting, dangerous, irritating.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hate her for assuming I could play, or give her a benediction and beg her to enjoy good ole thirteen for me.

I’m Shiloh Presley, she’d told me in that simple way of kids meeting kids. Shiloh had long legs, a confidant grin and the easy way of a very loved kid. She still acted like we were five year olds and everlasting affection could be gained by swapping a toy, sharing a shiny bit or bob, offering food. If she’d been any less devasting I might have stayed on that stupid studio lot filming a dubious film and never met the family who changed my life.

I know who you are, I told her, probably coldly and as vinegary as a jaded thirteen year old could manage, I’ve seen you around with Marie.

I’d have given my left foot, my front two teeth, my prized Tiffany locket, everything but my doggie Beau for the chance of being directed by Marie Presley. I just knew she’d give me a fabulous part where I could cry and scream and smile to great effect and it would be like those therapy couches my mother spent our money on…only, successful at making me feel something..

We’re all here to visit her, she didn’t come for Easter and Daddy is put out by it, Shiloh informed me though I didn’t ask.

In fact I was on a five minute break, standing by the water cooler near the huge studio lot door and that’s why I’d seen her at all when she rolled in. I was bored and ruining takes, she then said, and-Daddy told me to go run off the energy and grab you if I was so bored”.

I had to take a minute to process the fact Elvis Presley knew I existed and sent his daughter to grab me as a playmate. It was rather thrilling. With only thirty seconds left on that water break I made a decisive move to climb into the green golf cart and let Shiloh Presley drive me off in a tailspin of poor gear shifting. I mostly did it because if Elvis Presley knew I existed, I didn’t want his only firsthand report of me to be that I was a boring goody two shoes who was too straight laced to leave her job and have some fun.

I was starting to care about my reputation, you see.

It didn’t take long before, gratefully and as it should have been, the mythic Elvis Presley and my frazzled teenage fame were dwindled down to a static roar in the back of girlish screeching and an outright tipping golf cart. We careened about the place for over an hour, vaguely aware of the terror we were producing in what was essentially an overly glamorized workplace. Blurry figures sent to fetch me whirled past as we took another turn and clipped a pile of pallets, we ended up extras in the background of another film which gratfully was set in the present times so our appearance was not ruinously anachronistic.

I’m not sure we said more than twenty words that first hour of friendship, Shiloh and I, but you learn a lot about somebody when you’re whooping and hollering and vulnerably happy. What I learned from her was how to be sweetly impossible and to be sure of what you wanted, something I hadn’t had a break to figure out for myself as yet. She wanted to spend her time having fun and she went after it with a blithe tenacity that was foreign to me. We picked up another kid, one of the few times Shiloh braked for anything. I never did get his name but I think his mother was a stan- in extra and he was bored of all the waiting between takes.

Suddenly in the shimmering road ahead of us appeared the figure of a man somehow out glowing the sun with his magnetism. He was older, heavier, graying, and every bit as devastating as he had been when he’d first cuckolded the entire male world in 1956 -and he was waving us to a screeching stop with his jeweled fingers acting like reflectors on the end of a traffic conductor’s wands.

Shiloh brakes for him. It’s her father after all. All I can see is Elvis Presley leaning into our space, ducked under the fringe canopy of the cart and perspiring from the heat and what might be effort to catch up to us. He helps himself into the cart next to me, I’m suddenly in the middle before remembering having scooted over for him. The gear shift bumps my shins when Shiloh engages it again.

Go faster, her father tells her and his famous voice gave me a shudder. It was so thrilling and uncanny to hear it close— Go faster. her mama’s bouncer fella is after us.

Her. That’s me. I realize. He’s playing hooky with us. I love him madly. My fate is sealed. Shiloh shifts again, my shin is going to be bruised.

Elvis Presley then held a conversion with me while his daughter floored it back towards Marie’s set. We went through all the usual junk we’d gone through on the way here, makeshift wardrobes and caterers and shade tents for directors, some sound equipment and we barely skirted a pen set up for a braying, real life, genuine camel. Elvis held the conversation, I gasped out nothing but muffled shrieks pertaining to the driving.

He asked if wanted to come to dinner, he hoped I would, his missus had been longing to get a good, hearty meal into me since she met me last week. I’d never had a father, I’d never had someone want to feed me. My mother hadn’t either. She was more interested in scales. Elaine Presley knew I existed and wanted to feed me.

I fell in love again.

Elaine Presley wanted to feed me.

I adored Elaine Presley and had specifically incorporated more orange into my wardrobe because of her Vogue cover of last fall despite the fact my complexion didn’t suit it like her. I had torn apart a complimentary bouquet and scattered it in my bathtub to mimic her Bazaar photo shoot. I had perfected my southern drawl. I had crafted a ring the size of her re-marriage diamond out of costume rhinestones.

I’d do anything to be the next Elaine Presley

I couldn’t find my voice to say any of that. Thankfully. I couldn’t even find it to give Elvis a proper thank you for the invite.

Or, crucially, to cite my mother as cause and decline.

Fate had other plans, took the trajectory right out of mine, and like most scary things it ended up being something good for me in the long run. We’d turned at the corner that has the queer blue hydrant when something large and curly headed splattered on our hood.

A whole boy, in fact. Spread eagle, gripping the top of the cart’s dash panel with long, tanned fingers that brushed against the dials, his back shiny under the sun and his legs going on so long past the headlights his bare toes almost drug against the cement as his sister hadn’t paused in her pressure on the gas.

Floor it Shi!- he told her in a wheeze, the impact had affected him but only in the lungs, his face was unrepentantly cheeky and his eyes utterly innocent- I’ve gotta get off this damn lot, all the producers want their money back for the rock candy.

Something about his face told me it was actual rocks. That he’d sold as candy. And that they’d bought it. And that he’d made a lot off them for it. And that he was the sorta guy to manage that. And right when he needed it, his sister's golf cart would come in and play the getaway driver for him. And I was a cynical thirteen year old but sue me, I actually laughed till I cried at the notion that all those high and mighty executives who had made me feel so low and small had bitten into rocks they’d paid for before questioning if they were being had by a Presley child.

Danny, his father addressed him as we passed F Lot and careened into safer territory, into Marie’s set for They Come Softly and its old west props of cacti and wagons, Danny you spend too much time with Jack, his father observed.

Daddy, Danny had said back, I spend all my time with you.

Now that’s not true, Elvis responded, you spend plenty with your mother and she teaches you better than this.

Daddy, Danny was smirking by now and I was in love, she just says to me to be like you but smarter.

When the golf cart stopped, Elvis helped me out and I about fell over into his arms- from dizziness. Honest. That night I did go to dinner with them. Afterwards I was so sure I’d be in immense trouble by the time I got home to mother. Turns out she had been pacified somehow by Elaine Presley before the dumpster fire of our relationship could fully implode from this episode. Mother asked if I’d like to spend my nights with them at their Palm Springs house sometimes when she was in Vegas. Such times I was usually alone at the house in the canyon so I jumped at the chance. To be with such nice people, to have a friend in Shiloh, to get away from the producers, to watch Danny Presley in all his sixteen gloriously ripe years, bake himself on a pool floatie.

I’m not sure if he noticed me then. He isn’t either, even now. He was very busy being sixteen. I was his kid sister’s friend. Worlds apart, someone for me to watch during dinner and spy on at the beach showers. Someone to ask about homework questions because Elaine made sure I kept up with school.

I never learned much from him even though he was impressively patient and very smart, even then. His mature voice had come in and it turned me to goo, hearing it in my ear as he talked equations. I mostly just stared at the way he held a pencil.

That was the happiest summer of my life up to that point.

I learned how to be young.

In doing so, I became too young for the first thing I’d ever wanted all on my own volition.

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—-

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[clegfly]

OKAY SO LITTLE THING I DONT SEE PEOPLE TALK ABOUT MUCH BUT I FIND VERY COOL AND SIGNIFICANT BUT……

Can. Can we talk about how mari is tethered to omori’s knife?

This symbolism is constant throughout the game, and I think it’s very neat!!

For example, in each of the phobia sequences, mari will appear in tandem with or lead sunny to the knife, and will disappear after collecting it. Then, during the battle, mari will communicate with sunny.

It’s also shown in the crossroads area that it represents (or at least, the reason it is a knife is because of) the first time sunny ever saw mari cry which strengthens the connection between the two:

Also, it has extremely similar visuals to mari herself!!! E.g the way it defies the lighting of any given scene like mari (New hc it glows now like her woaghhhhhh)

Essentially, it’s heavily implied that mari’s spirit is, in some way, connected to this knife- spiritually and symbolically linked to it.

This is significant for a NUMBER of reasons.

Firstly, the fact that it’s OMORI’S knife. The knife we see during these sequences is definitely omori’s knife and not sunny’s steak knife- it’s monochrome and sunny only gets the steak knife after wielding it, which is promptly confiscated by kel later. This is omori’s knife.

Omori, however, represents mari’s piano. He shares a name and design with it. Sunny’s subtle manifestation of the gnawing, subconscious thought that drove so many of the actions that led to that fateful day, that mari loved her music and piano and everything else more than him, that she no longer cared about him. Omori is conceptually tied to the recital and the incident, which is ironic as he is the being created to repress it. Perhaps that’s why he is the piano in the first place. But this isn’t an OMORI analysis so I’ll save all that contemplation for another post!

Either way, isn’t it funny how the character who represents the repression of the incident, or the recital, of all of mari’s and sunny’s flaws, of the truth, wields what represents mari’s flaws and humanity as his weapon? These two concepts in constant juxtaposition- the first time mari’s exhausting facade was forced to drop in front of her beloved sibling, and the being created to ensure sunny only remembered her as perfect, as remembering her otherwise would lead to heartache and suffering?

Not to mention that he STABS himself with it. The way you wake up and become sunny, the way you escape labyrinths… by forcing that pain and humanity upon a being who embodies the very absence of it. I just wanted to mention that because ITS VERY NEAT. Its one of the really cool little pieces of subtlety that comes WIGH those moments, such as how the game accustoms the player to considering suicide as the optimal solution and a relief to see as an option in any predicament. Mari, or something she is so physically linked to, being used as tye core instrument in this, the very thing she wants now more than anything to prevent from becoming reality, is even more heartbreaking. GOD THIS GAME.

But the thing I wanted to draw most attention to is its use in the final battle.

In the good ending.

When sunny has played the duet and embraced the truth, accepted what happened, and is ready to move on. When sunny embraces omori.

And omori, after hesitation, after visible effort…

Lets go of the knife.

Lets go of mari, the real, raw mari, accepting that person at last and being ready to let go of her, and fading away.

There’s a lot more I want to get into here- the deteriorating state of the knife and what that represents for mari ESPECIALLY in the omori route, the fact it’s a weapon, more about the phobia fights in general but I am EXHAUSTED and this is supposed to be short and silly so. Here!!!

Also if this is worded horribly I’m sorry I’m so tired rn NSNEKSJ- I just really wanted to talk about this hehe. I want to make a full full mari analysis one day wirh everything I’ve observed about her so a lot more of this will make sense then but for now I hope this brings more attention to this concept because I think it’s really cool and clever and devastating!!!!!

[irenethewoman]

Mrs. Shelby - Chapter One- Escape (part 1)

This chapter is quite long, it’s going to be in two parts. Hope you enjoy.

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In October 1914, I found myself in Birmingham. The train came to a halt on the platform, and as it did, a person in brown hastily disembarked from the car. I scanned my surroundings cautiously. The platform lay in dimly lit solitude, the air was chilly, so I draped my half-worn cashmere coat around me and hastened forward, my gaze fixed ahead. My hope was to secure a job in Birmingham that would sustain me, putting an end to my northward travels. My intention was to find a place to rest and recuperate for a while before seeking employment. With all the men away at war, the factories surely lacked labor. Ideally, it would be an office job, but upon arriving at a hotel, I discovered a hole had been cut into my wallet, and the coins inside had vanished. The gaping gash, created by a blade, danced in Birmingham's cold breeze, taunting me. The innkeeper's eyes spoke volumes; he clearly regarded me with suspicion, assuming I had ulterior motives. Over the past two weeks of fleeing, I had endured much hardship.

The injustices I'd encountered, unlike any I'd known in the past 15 years, left the Baroness in a melancholic state. I had wanted to unleash my anger, to scold the innkeeper, but considering my current predicament, discretion was the better part of valor. I couldn't risk leaving a lasting impression that might lead to my being taken back to London. So, I swallowed the sharp retort on the tip of my tongue, turned on my heel, and exited with my head held high. It wasn't until I was out of the innkeeper's view that I crouched down on the street, wrapped my arms around my knees, and wept. If my father were still alive, this would never have happened! He had aspired to marry his little princess into No. 10 Downing Street. The memory of Nurse Claire and Sister Mary helping me pack on that night remained vivid. The wet nurse had packed my luggage with nearly all the jewelry and coins I could carry. My pregnant sister Mary had suffered at the hands of her child's father, my illegitimate brother, for concealing my whereabouts. I'll never forget how Nurse Claire clung to me in tears inside the dark closet, preventing me from rushing out. We had held each other in silence while Sister Mary's voice faded into the distance. I would never forget the sight of the bloodstains on the marble floor of Turner House as we hastily departed. Shards of shattered glass glistened under the crystal lamp's glow. We had left in a hurry amid my sister's screams, and Nurse Claire had personally escorted me onto the northbound train. Despite my pleading, she had refused to accompany me, choosing to stay in London. Her brown eyes had been brimming with tears as she'd said, "Live well, miss, live well..." The gnawing hunger in my stomach pulled me from my reverie. I needed to survive, for the honor of Baroness Turner, for Nurse Claire and Sister Mary. Only through survival could I have a future. I wiped away my tears and, after patting myself down, retrieved three chocolate pieces wrapped in gold foil. It was a humble brand available at malls. In the past, we had imported Swiss and Belgian confections, and I wouldn't have touched this variety. But now, with not a penny to my name, I welcomed it gladly. As I unwrapped the chocolate, ready to take my first bite, I noticed a young boy sitting across the street, about the age of my brother, his blue eyes locked onto me and the chocolate coin in my hand. We shared a prolonged gaze from across the street. He was a child, and I, in my desperation, was acting rather childishly myself. Eventually, I made my way over, suitcase in tow, and sat beside him, offering him the unopened chocolates. My intuition told me he was a runaway. To run away at a time like this, he must have been loved and cared for at home. Perhaps he was the little angel I needed to escape my troubles. He accepted the chocolates but seemed in no hurry to open them. I paid him no mind as my hunger overtook me, devouring the chocolate in my hand. "What's this?" he asked softly, eyeing me as I ate. "Chocolate," I replied honestly. "You're lying. The chocolate here doesn't look like that," he retorted, still fixated on the chocolate in his hand. True, even though it was a cheap brand, the glittering wrapping paper had an irresistible allure to children, not to mention the delicious chocolate within. "But this is how they make chocolate in London," I shrugged. "I've tasted better ones, from Switzerland and Belgium. The French are skilled in making chocolate desserts too. We used to have a French chef at home, and his desserts were exquisite." The boy's interest grew with each word I spoke. It was a promising start. "So, can I come to your house?" I feigned regret, "I'm afraid not. We had to let that chef go." The boy's bright blue eyes dimmed at my response, but I quickly added, "But I did learn a few dessert recipes from him. If there's a kitchen, I can make some for you." After some internal struggle, the boy finally stood up, took my hand, and led me to a busier street.

[m0chisenpai]

but you, are mine

˚｡⋆ oberyn martell x black!fem!reader

authors note: Part of the Marie Antoinette series. You don't need to read the other parts but if you'd like more background I'd suggest reading some of the other imagines before this one.

Oberyn loved his son, loves him more than the entirety of his being. Of course he loved each and every one of his daughters. He held no favoritism amongst them all. But a part of him could not help but yearn for a son. And so as you pressed his first son to your flushed, heaving chest he felt his own heave as Ellaria hugged herself behind him. 

"A son..." Oberyn sat himself beside your body. He pressed kiss after kiss to the side of your face, thanking you, praising you. "You did amazing my love, so amazing. Bearing my child is a gift I could never repay. Oh you have given me the greatest of treasures."

Your tired smile was all you could offer as your arms held your first born to your chest as the midwives made work of cleaning you and your babe. You had no words to offer, but Oberyn could see what you wished in that moment.

"Thank you...thank you my love."

Ellaria takes seat besdie his love to lay upon your hand. "You can rest now flower. He will be fine. I will watch over you both." She watches as you allow your eyes to fall shut and carefully pick the cooing babe up for Oberyn to gaze down.

Oh how did we get here? Oberyn wondered as he brushed his knuckles upon his sons cheek. The last nine moons, the pair watched as the beloved girl would die and the woman before him be reborn.

When you first found yourself to be with a child you were beyond furious. You begged the midwife to check again, you’d been careful for years, you were young. Grandmother taught you to not let a single drop taint your womb lest it was legitimate that could bring favor to your house name. And you had too much life ahead of you! But alas the women once more told you that you were with child. You’d miss your flowering twice. It was a telltale sign.

You were calm, too calm as you stood and walked down the stony halls. Maids looked upon your stoic face in concern as they were so used to your joyous greetings. Your gaze was blank, so cold that whispers began to spread among the palace that very day.

There as the assumption you would be shipped back to Highgarden, Oberyn finally disposed of you, your father or mother passing.

Your hand carefully grazed the hidden dagger within your dresses, sliding it beneath your sleeve. You'd only ned to slip your other hand and the thin blade would end any attackers life then and there.

And as you turned the corner you saw the one who cursed you greet you most joyously in your shared chamber.

Oberyn found out when you had taken your most prized gift and pressed it to his throat, cursing him to the gods. Yet despite this predicament he held the most joyous smile with the sharp weapon just inches from putting an end to him. 

"You smile at what you have done to me?" You hiss between clenched teeth.

"Easy my flower, I do not jest. I am truly filled with such joy! A babe oh how long has it been Ellaria-"

"I will find my joy when I have you head!" You press the blade further and for a moment Oberyn swears you are not lying.

Ellaria managed to talk you down, her gentle hand curling around the fist and lowered the slim dagger. She understood your anger was truly the pain of loss, you were becoming a woman. And it was painful. She held you in her arms watching as the anger morphed itself into bitter pain, into sadness that drenched your cheeks with bitter tears that she wiped away.

She walked you to your chambers while Oberyn went to alert his brother of the news.

A legitimate heir for House Martell.

You did not attend the celebration deast that following night, only watcching from the seat of your balcony.

She would try to bring it up in conversations. She offered to send word to your mother about the newborn, you waved it off. You would fall into silence, or spit out a short response. It was as though the thread between the three of you was being pulled tight.

You refused to speak to Oberyn. He first found it to be part of that quick temper he fell in love with. But slowly it festered. Unforgiveness planted seeds which blossomed into a garden of silent hatred. You would mumble to yourself in the mirror, to your stomach at times. He heard you curse it, his little snake. That’s when the thread snapped. The day you cursed the babe back from whence it came. 

As you joined for evening meal your cup flew to hit the wall behind Oberyn's head.

Ellaria's eyes fall shut as she breths deeply through her nose, knowing her own anger would not help either of you.

��It has done nothing against you to earn you bitter hatred!”

“I never wanted it! I never wanted this burden Oberyn! What do you know? You merely plant seeds, but do you know the burden of a mother? My mother told me stories! The pains, the aches, the near death.” You hissed each word. “You’ve damned me and I hate you both!” 

“Take your words back” Oberyn’s voice is hoarse. He could care less about your hatred towards him, but his babe? He refused to allow the child into a world without a mother to love. Your lips pressed tight as your fist shook, and Ellaria wrapped her arms around her lover.

“Let us go Oberyn, give her time to breathe…please.” She begs, her eyes are tired as she guides him out the room, her gaze stares upon your broken resolve before the doors shut, much like your heart. 

You leave the meal there, locking away for the evening, in your personal chamber away from the two. You let a pair of your attending women know to bring more of your belongings and clotbing over.

You and Oberyn found yourselves in a period of silence. When it was time to break fast, enjoy a mid day meal, Ellaria would notice the stiff tension between the two of you. At this point you had just barely begun to show. You hid your bump like it was a dirty secret, like you were ashamed. Your favorite dresses are replaced with ones much looser. You felt disgusting. Your diamonds, and jewels no longer held the shine to them. 

They recieve reports from servants that they have taken extra steps to bathing you and clothng you for the day after havign found you slept through the morning and nearly into the evening.

You start taking more of your meals away in the comfort of your room or in the gardens hidden from the world.

It was a day where Oberyn was needed to attend to his duties, Ellaria was to accompany you. And as she went to your dressing quarters she saw you crumbled to the ground, surrounded by your gowns. Your jewelry scattered as you blubbered incoherently. 

It broke her heart. Because after she watched you quickly fix yourself and whisper harshly to your reflection as you dabbed at your eyes. She watched you pick up broken pieces, and it made her ill as she sat upon your bed waiting for you. When you stepped out you jumped at Ellaria sitting on your bed. “How are you flower?”

And she felt her eyes water as the mask smiled and breathed out, “well.”

Slowly you found yourself sleeping in your personal chambers apart from Ellaria and Oberyn. His heart tore in two. He had forgotten what it was like without your form. He missed how you’d tug the sheets to yourself on the more chilly nights. Or how Ellaria managed to always hold you to her chest and massage your head till your slow breaths lulled him to sleep. 

He wonders if you can sleep well, att his point surely your back is aching. He should be there to aid you in this tender time.

But all eh can do is allow his hand to lay upon your spot.

You were at the stage of aching. You could no longer run after the girls in the gardens. You couldn’t keep your meals down, Oberyn nearly broke down your door hearing your whimpers and curses in your bed chamber as you heaved. One of the midwives would sit beside your side, dabbing at your damp head with cold towels, messaging your back and belly with oils.

Your personal maidens rubbed at your feet, offering old wives tales and trcks to get through it.

You sit outside more often finding the fresh air to be a help.

They’d deliver updates to Oberyn daily, the babe was healthy and fine as was the mother. How she was moving a bit more, keeping some food down. A sad smile found its way to his face when she informed the prince how she adored cherries. You would sneak bowls of them in your rooms and the servants would find bowls filled with stems and seeds. 

So now he makes sure every morning you awaken to a bowl beside your chaise. He imagines feeding them to you as you lay int he gardens. But all he can do is watxh from his own window as you pluck a cherry while the girls surround you.

“Ellaria,” he never sounded so broken in his life, “have I truly cursed her. My precious rose.” 

She can only wrap him into her arms and kiss his tears away. “No my love.”

A trip, just you and Ellaria. She asked, no, she demanded you two would go away while you. Oberyn bid his paramour a safe travel, he said the same to you, but you kept your eyes ahead, hands folded beneath your aching stomach. The villa was set atop a hill. You remember Oberyn bringing you to see it.

This would be the girls second time and they loved it just as much as their first with you.

They ran throughout the halls, enjoying their echoes as they each found their rooms and the servants brought in your trunks. You were too tired and fell aslep the moment your room was settled, but the girls brought your supper to your room telling you of all their adventures.

"And we saw this crab Aunty Y/N but then ever more of them started springing up from the sands!!"

"Oh did you my love? Careful let me-"

"No let us please Aunty Y/N?" Oh how could you say no to those big brown eyes? You smiled as you let the girls feed you bread and broth and tell you more of the day until Ellaria told them to allow you to get rest.

It felt incomplete without him there. You hate to admit as you lay in your bed eyeing the space where he would surely be. Instead you find Ellaria's back, and you press your eyes tight to get some rest.

You sat on the beach beside watching the girls dance about in the waters. Ellaria picked up Loreza twirling her in her arms eliciting a gleeful cry of joy that in turn made you smile. They asked if you would join, but you declined. The warmth heat was making you sleepy and you didn't want to fall ill. 

The sun slowly began to set and the girls sat upon their own blankets eating whatever pastries and meats the villas cooks provide in woven baskets. You managed to hold down a few berries, sipping on cool water.

“My love,” Ellaria stood looking down at you. Your eyes gazed down at her hand which she offered to you. “The water should be much cooler now.” Her arm draped around your back in support that eased some of the pains. She matched your slow steps not once rushing you, and when the gentle waves hit your feet you let out a small groan. 

It felt like heaven surrounded you as you waded in more, pulling your skirts up to avoid getting them drenched. Ellaria smiled from beside you as your eyes stared out to the golden sun. Your eyes looked down as you stepped onto something hard and smooth.

“Mama! Auntie Y/N! Look!”

“For the baby.” 

You smiled down at the little one taking the small pouch of shells. “I am sure the little one will love them”

The storm had blown past. You and Oberyn work slowly day by day to build back the relationship you had. Apologies are exchanged. Affection returns slowly but surely. And by the time your water has broken, you cling to Oberyn and push through hours of painful labor demanding he stay by your side.

The moon sbines bright when you finally awaken, and he sits beside you, gazing fondly at the baby situated in a bundle of blankets beside you. Ellaria helps you to sit up tucking the sheets over your lap.

“Have you thought of a name?”

“No, not yet. I think that’s a gift Oberyn is worthy of.”

“Oh my love..." Ellaria cooed softly as she sat beside Oberyn, her hands brushing your curls off your damp forehead. Her nimble fingers smoothed back the baby's soft curls. He was so quiet, so beautiful. A beautiful combination of yourself and Oberyn. 

Oberyn begged to name him and who were you to withhold it. And so now as he lovingly gazes upon the bundle of life swaddled in the softest of blankets in Dorne. His eyes scrunched tight, silent gurgles that pull at his heart. He reaaches down to bring his son to his face to place a kiss upon his forehead.

"Orion, my first and beloved son" Oberyn breathes.

[ouatnextgen]

these are some stock images i found that are giving christmas cygnet scholar! 😁

Adorable! That last one is so cute, I had to write a drabble for it <3

Thanks for sending these!

(drabble under the cut)

Christmas in Storybrooke was always...a bit different from what the movies said small town Christmases were like.

That doesn't mean they didn't try, though.

They didn't have a mall, or...any place really, where kids could meet and take pictures with 'Santa,' so every year they'd doll up an old abandoned farm house and dub it 'Santa's Workshop.' They'd hire in some older guy to play Santa--it almost always ended up being Gepetto--and manage to convince the local youth on Christmas break to be hired on as his elves.

Hence, why Hope and Gideon were in their current predicament.

Usually, to gain Christmas present money, Hope would shovel driveways and sidewalks for her elderly and/or lazy neighbors.

But it was December 20th, and it had not snowed a single inch.

Desperate, Hope had taken the Santa's Workshop job, and convinced her best friend/ secret boyfriend to do it with her.

Gideon was always good at saving money, so he didn't necessarily need to take the job. But he never could say no to Hope.

Which was how he ended up in a scratchy green tunic, ill-fitting green tights, and a stupid hat with giant plastic elf ears attached to the sides.

"I'm telling you, Gid. We need to come up with our elfsonas." He and Hope had been tasked with sweeping up the pine needles under the large Christmas tree, which was a never ending battle between sticky, sappy pine needles and the worst broom known to man.

"Hmm. Well, what's a good elfsona name?" Gideon smirked and leaned his chin against the broom handle. Even in an abhorrently colored green dress and plastic elf ears, Hope still managed to look beautiful.

"Tinsel McSleigh?"

"Jingle Holidayson." Gideon offered.

"Mary Christmas...but spelled M-A-R-Y."

"Pepper M. Int."

"Frosty the Elfman."

"Buddy the Elf, but not that one."

A shadow suddenly fell over the Christmas tree. "Elves. Quick yapping and get back to work." Gretel, who'd been hired on as 'head elf,' was standing there with her hands on her hips, looking grumpy.

"Sorry, Gretel." They both chimed, and giggled a little bashfully.

As soon as Gretel walked away, the conversation recommenced. Just quieter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a grueling six hours of sweeping pine needles, herding small children through long lines, and wrapping prop presents, the two teens were more than excited to ditch their 'elfsonas' and leave.

"Freedom!" Hope lifted her arms and spun around. "Until tomorrow, at least. Aw, man..."

Gideon chuckled, lightly tossing his arm around her shoulder. "Think of the paycheck, Hope."

"Eyes on the prize." She agreed, squinting up at the sky. "It looks like it's gonna snow."

Gideon looked up as well. Sure enough, the clouds had that...look to them, like something was gonna happen. "Let's hope it at least snows in time for Christmas."

"Bet you $5 of my elf money that it'll be too cold for snow." She shivered, snuggling closer to Gideon. "'Cause that's just our luck."

"Actually, that's a common misconception. Snow can occur at any cold temperature, it's the humidity of an area that determines how much snowfall-"

Hope reached up and gently grabbed Gideon's cheek. "Hey, Gid?"

"Uh...yeah?" He blushed.

"I'm gonna kiss you now."

So she did, cupping his cheek in her cold hand.

The kiss was chaste and short, but Hope always had a way of leaving Gideon breathless no matter what.

"What ever happened to surprising our parents with us at Christmas dinner?" He asked, moving his arm around her middle like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Hope shrugged, mischief dancing in her blue eyes. "They won't find out. Watch." She kissed him again, this time using her hand to block their connected lips from view. "Foolproof."

They pulled away from each other, grinning like idiots in love. And that's when they noticed the change in weather.

"Hey! It's snowing!" Hope held out her hand, catching a fat snowflake on her palm.

Gideon chuckled. "Wow. It's like our kiss made it snow, or something."

"I mean...stranger things have happened in this town." Hope cocked her head, genuinely considering the possibility.

"Sure. Let's go with that. It's not just nature." He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. "Let's go home. I seem to remember you promising me a Mario Kart rematch."

She smirked, competitive side flaring. "Ready for me to win again, you mean?"

"You wish!"

The two of them continued to bicker, all the way home.

[haveyoulistenedtothisalbum-poll]

Tracklist:

Concerning the UFO Sighting Near Highland, Illinois • The Black Hawk War, or, How to Demolish an Entire Civilization and Still Feel Good About Yourself in the Morning, or, We Apologize for the Inconvenience but You're Going to Have to Leave Now, or, 'I Have Fought the Big Knives and Will Continue to Fight Them Until They Are Off Our Lands!' • Come On! Feel the Illinoise! (Part I: The World's Columbian Exposition — Part II: Carl Sandburg Visits Me in a Dream) • John Wayne Gacy, Jr. • Jacksonville (free) • A short reprise for Mary Todd, who went insane, but for very good reasons • Decatur, or, Round of Applause for Your Stepmother! • One Last 'Whoo-Hoo!' for the Pullman • Chicago • Casimir Pulaski Day • To the Workers of the Rock River Valley Region, I have an idea concerning your predicament • The Man of Metropolis Steals Our Hearts • Prairie Fire That Wanders About • A conjunction of drones simulating the way in which Sufjan Stevens has an existential crisis in the Great Godfrey Maze • The Predatory Wasp of the Palisades Is Out to Get Us! • They Are Night Zombies!! They Are Neighbors!! They Have Come Back from the Dead!! Ahhhh! • Let's hear that string part again, because I don't think they heard it all the way out in Bushnell • In This Temple as in the Hearts of Man for Whom He Saved the Earth" • The Seer's Tower • The Tallest Man, the Broadest Shoulders (Part I: The Great Frontier — Part II: Come to Me Only with Playthings Now) • Riffs and Variations on a Single Note for Jelly Roll, Earl Hines, Louis Armstrong, Baby Dodds, and the King of Swing, to name a few • Out of Egypt, into the Great Laugh of Mankind, and I shake the dirt from my sandals as I run

Spotify ♪ Bandcamp ♪ YouTube

[natk2002]

The Rookie Rewatch - 2x19 The Q Word

Air Date: 3 May 2020

Written By: Natalie Callaghan & Nick Hurwitz

Directed By: David McWhirter

First Appearances:

Erin Cole

Chris Rios

Serj Derian

Ruben Derian

Last Appearances: 

Chris Rios - deceased

Erin Cole - deceased

Guest Appearances:

Erin Cole - a rookie who went the academy with Nolan, West, Chen

Chris Rios - a rookie who went the academy with Nolan, West, Chen

Nick Armstrong

Emmett Lang

Officer Martinez - Rios’ TO

Grace Sawyer

Serj Derian - no.1 on Robbery-Homicide’s hit list, younger brother of Ruben (head of Derian crime family), linked to drug trafficking, extortion, kidnapping, murder but no charges have stuck

Ruben Derian - Serj Derian’s brother

Smitty

Nurse Lisa

Cold Open:

Nolan, West, Chen in the bar, talking about events that happened in 1x15; Cole talks to Nolan as she’s worried about Rios; suicide darts

Injuries/Deaths:

Rios - shot in chest, ambulance, possible lung collapse, catastrophic blood loss, flatlines, defibrillated, dies (off-screen)

West - emotional distress at Rios’ predicament

Martinez - tweaked arm

Cole - shot twice by Armstrong, dies

Name Drops:

Donovan Town - Harper talks about their custody agreement

Commander West - talks about IA mobilising

Stapleton - involved in raid

Cole - involved in raid

Jennings - involved in raid

Sanchez - involved in raid

Police Codes and Such:

New dispatch syntax: “Wilshire units, information only. Hollywood division is in pursuit after a shots fired call. Event 8-0-5 working on channel 4. Information only.”

Pairings and Call Signs:

Bradford and Chen - 7-Adam-19

Harper and Nolan - 7-Adam-15

Armstrong and Nolan - 7-Adam-15

Lopez and West - 7-Adam-07

Martinez and Rios - 6-Mary-47 (North Hollywood)

Cases/Calls:

Harper and Nolan; Bradford and Chen; Lopez and West - attach themselves to the North Hollywood pursuit and arrive on scene to give backup

Harper and Nolan - chase the suspect vehicle, locate it, suspect is gone, Nolan designated the finder and stays with the gun

Lopez and West - stay with injured Rios

Bradford and Chen - breach suspect Derian’s home but come up empty, search through his belongings

Lopez, Armstrong, Nolan - raid of Ruben Derian’s house

Lopez - reviewing body cam footage from the raid to try and locate the missing gun

Harper and Nolan - breaching Cole’s RV, but she drives off in her RV -> Armstrong, Bradford and Chen join in when Cole abandons RV -> Nolan catches up to Cole who is armed with a handgun -> Cole shot dead by Armstrong -> Nolan reviews bodycam footage and realises Cole says Armstrong’s name before she sees him

Acronyms:

TC - traffic collision

GOA - gone on arrival

ATL - attempt to locate

245 - assault with a deadly weapon

TID - Technical Investigation Division

Quotes:

Chen: No joke, my T.O. goes, "When you're in the LAPD"... Chen, Nolan, West: "You're never alone."

Chen: I mean, maybe if you're playing pick-up with him, but not when he's your T.O. He once designed an IED to blow up baby powder in my face just to make a point.

Grey: The end of the race is always the hardest. The Push is to remind you not to celebrate until you cross the finish line. Understand?

Chen: I didn't realize happiness was an impediment to being a good cop.

Lopez: Do I look like a woman who's ever worn peach? West: No. You're definitely an autumn. 

Harper: Na-na-ah-ah-ah-ah! Stop! You do not, under any circumstance, ever use the "Q" word while on duty. That is like saying "Macbeth" in a theater or talking about a no-hitter in the dugout.

Bradford: It's the hardest part about being a T.O. Okay? We drill it into their head, but at the end of the day, they make their own calls.

Bradford: She's my Boot. I'll talk to her however the hell I want to so she doesn't end up eating through a tube the rest of her life. You got that? Let's go, Boot.

Grey: I know I can trust you. So I'm making you acting detective until this calms down. You already passed the exam, so I might as well take advantage of you until the brass realizes what they're missing out on.

Bradford: You may be 30 days from crossing the finish line, but the only thing that happens when you cross it is that I won't be there to keep you from washing out. Or worse. So you better believe this next month is gonna be tough. 'Cause I know you can handle it. Chen: That's oddly sweet. But you're not the one I'm mad at right now. I'm used to you.

Lang: Uh... You're one of the toughest women I've ever met. The last thing you need is a protector, and I didn't mean to imply that you did. I'm sorry. Chen: Thanks. I accept your apology.

Character Lore:

Cole was a rookie at the academy with our Rookies

Rios was a rookie at the academy with our Rookies

Rios’ father worked with Percy West in Narcotics back in the day

Rios beat West in the obstacle course in the Academy even though he had a torn hamstring

Harper has a custody hearing re Lila Town

Lopez becomes acting Detective

Harper now has shared custody with no conditions over Lila Town

Notable Scenes:

Armstrong and Nolan talking about Sawyer potentially going back to her husband

Rookies and their TOs in their shops

MW officers converging on the North Hollywood distress call

Bradford talking to Martinez re Rios

West talking to Rios whilst he’s semi-conscious in the back of the ambulance

Lang telling Bradford he doesn’t need to talk to Chen in his tone

Grey making Lopez acting detective until the situation dies down

Grey telling Rios is dead when Nolan announces that the gun is missing

Smitty’s body cam footage being reviewed by Lopez

Chen comforting West

Us finding out that Armstrong is the dirty cop

Ship Scenes:

Chen/Lang

Both at Chen’s when Lang asks her to stay in bed longer, but she says she doesn’t want to incur Bradford’s wrath

Kiss

Shake hands to make a deal that they’ll keep their relationship on the DL at work

Chen gets annoyed at Lang for acting like she needs help with Bradford

Lang apologises to Chen and they kiss

Chenford

Bradford questioning in the shop why Chen is so happy

Bradford berating Chen for having her gun hand busy

Breaching Derian’s house

Discovering that there is a dirty cop that has been feeding Derian information

Bradford telling Chen the next month will be tough because he knows she can handle it

Nolan/Sawyer

Awkward back and forth in the hospital post-Rios’ death

Timeline Attempt:

In thirty (30) days, the Rookie’s will no longer be rookies

Episode marks the Rookie’s one (1) year mark in the FTO program and is the first day of their Thirty (30) Day Push

Locations:

Normandie - suspect vehicle chase

Eastbound on Wilshire - suspect vehicle chase

MacArthur Park - suspect vehicle chase

Park View - suspect vehicle chase

South on Alvarado - suspect vehicle chase

6th and Grand - suspect vehicle chase

Glendale - Ruben Derian runs things from there

Mission Road towards 1st - RV chase

Colorado towards Pasadena - RV chase

Rose Bowl Stadium - RV abandoned

Callbacks/Parallels

Chen tells Lang about the time Bradford set up an IED to blow up baby powder in her face (episode 2x1 Impact)

Music:

Crossover by Cortes - cold open

Insane World by Mixed Blood Majority - officers enter Derian’s home

Dirty Sun by Part Chimp - Nolan finds the gun is missing

Death in the Turnstile by Distorted Pony - Cole’s attempted escape in her RV

Get There Soon by Geographer - Chen comforts West

Applicable Ao3 Tags:

Episode: s02e19 The Q Word (The Rookie)

[minsungjinho]

restricted - Hyunjin x Reader

18+ MDNI ~ feedback always appreciated also let me know if I should make a part two word count: 9.1K genre: strangers to lovers, travel situationship warnings below the cut

warnings: cock warming, choking, pet names, dom!hyunjin, body worship(?), swearing, after care, unprotected sex (wrap your willys), fainting, rope play, rope binding and restricting, odontophilia aka biting, degrading kinda, the opposite of pulling out (please dont), orgasm control, lots of dirty talk, let me know if I missed any :3

Your skin was feverishly hot. Cheeks and ears bright red at the exposing position this crazy artist had you in. Naked, like completely bare, tied, and shaking from the knees at how long you’ve been there. How did you even get into this mess in the first place?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bills were due once again, and just after barely catching up to last month's expenses you found yourself in quite the predicament once again. Your part-time job wasn’t enough to cover all of your bills, let alone put food in your fridge. College + Working + Trying to work on your own hobby = completely broke. 

You requested extra hours at work, but you were only able to add a couple of hours to various shifts which wasn’t going to cut it. You reached out to your school, perhaps there was a way to make money there such as working in the cafeteria, cleaning classrooms, or picking for trash in the common grounds. Another dead end, realizing how many other students were in the same boat as you.

You left your number on the bulletin board of the office after asking for work through the college, hoping maybe someone would need help with something, anything that could keep you from being borderline homeless. You took the long way home, strolling through parks and neighborhoods trying to sift through your thoughts on extra ways to make money. 

It was another night of ramen and frozen broccoli, two cheap foods that never go bad. You were scrolling all sorts of job apps, even Facebook pages for people that need extra help around town. You tapped away at the screen all night. While eating, while bathing, and getting ready for bed- until you fell asleep. 

The next three days were classes in the morning, a part-time job in the evening, and endless scrolling on your phone once you got home at night. It felt hopeless, and unimaginably useless to try and keep living by yourself without help from your family. You were ready to throw in the towel and move back home. 

It wasn’t until the following day that you saw a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel, a hail mary, or a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity- you could call it. A fellow artist in your painting class had overheard some upperclassmen talk about an artist at the school who was recruiting a model but with very specific requirements. Has to be this tall, that build, these colored eyes, this colored hair, and so on and so forth. 

You were able to find the artist who was requesting a model through crowd-sourcing around campus. He was rarely at the school, only for a select few classes that were mostly one-on-one with the professor. He was already famed for his skill and most especially his parents. Photographers with more experience and ability than almost anyone else in the world. They were retired, of course at an early age like most achieved artists, but apparently very intent on making their only son a prodigy of the arts as well. 

That night you set up a small corner of your apartment with a white sheet backdrop, taking headshots and pictures of your body’s shape- clothed obviously. You figured if you were going to indulge in his request while knowing how picky he is, you might as well be prepared. You printed them out the next morning at the school's library, arriving extra early so no one would see your weird attempt at a modeling resume. 

Watching out the window as the pictures printed you noticed a man walking into the building, a large bag in hand with a coffee in the other. He walked tall, muscularly lanky, and yet handsome as hell. His dark brown hair came down to his shoulders, slicked back without gel as if he were born with that hairstyle. Putting the pieces together, you remembered the description of the talented artist and bolted out of the library with your pictures in hand. 

Extraordinary good looks? Check. Luscious brown hair and plump lips? Double check. A toned yet skinny body? Tall? For sure. You knew it was him, Hwang Hyunjin, the son of the most talented photographers out there. You raced through the mostly empty halls, hoping to catch him before his classes. Bolting up the stairs, you make your way toward the Fine Arts wing of the campus, finding him waiting outside of a studio's door.

He was sipping his coffee, presumably an iced Americano judging on the color. It wasn’t until he could hear your panting breaths from running that he noticed you, judgementally looking you up and down before you spoke. 

“You’re.. Looking for a model.. Right?” You managed to squeak out in between breaths. 

He removed his lips from the straw of his drink, and man was everyone right about how plush they were. He nodded, accepting the freshly printed pictures you offered him and thoroughly examining them. He wasn’t looking at anything in particular, but almost looking through the pictures- seeing the potential you have and what he could do with a body like yours. 

He looked at you, inspecting your features, how long your legs were, if your chest was too big or too small, how far apart your eyes were from the bridge of your nose, the width of your hips, all of the things that would make you uncomfortable if you hadn’t known he was an artist. 

“Let me think about it.” That was all he said to you within the three-minute exchange. Your heart dropped into your stomach at his words, feeling silly that he would blindly accept your offer. It wasn’t as if you were expecting a flat-out yes, but you weren’t mentally prepared for this outcome.

You took a page from him, flipping it around and writing your number on the back of the picture along with your name. “I’ll do anything.” You pleaded. “Just let me know.” You handed the print back to him before flashing a weak smile, having to look up in order for him to see you due to the height difference. 

You walk past him through the art wing, opening the last door at the end of the hallway- which was the room for painting classes where you were spending most of your time this semester. You flipped the lights on, letting the door close behind you with a soft thud. The room was never locked, and even though you didn’t have a class until much later in the morning you decided to get some work done in the hope of finishing a project early. 

You took your apron off of its hook, wrapping and tying the string around your waist. It was a cooler day, the middle of autumn, so you decided a nice thick sweater would be a good option for your outfit. It didn’t flatter you though, it didn’t indicate how thin of a waist you had or the hourglass shape that hid underneath. 

You pulled your hair into a messy bun, letting the fallen strands hang with little to no care. You had walked over to your easel, looking at the work you had done the day before. You were about to walk over to the sink and counters, getting everything you needed to start painting before the door opened behind you. 

It was him, the famous, dreamy-looking man who was walking over to you with a serious expression. “What does ‘anything’ mean to you?” He asked once getting only two or three inches away. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at you, head cocked slightly to the side with interest. 

“Anything means anything.” You state, feeling a bit intimidated at how fast he came toward you. “If you want me to jump into the lake in this freezing weather just to prove myself, I will. If you want me to dress like a clown, I will. If you want me to-” 

“That’s not what I mean, darling, what I’m thinking of has nothing to do with proving yourself.” He backs away from you after his interruption, leaning against a cabinet. “I’m assuming you don’t know what kind of art I do.” Hyunjin crosses his arms and eyes you up and down once more.

“Well, I know you mainly use charcoal as your medium.” You start, feeling embarrassed that you didn’t actually know that much about him. “I’ve seen some of your paintings too, but that's about it.” You copy his motions, crossing your arms as he nods his head. 

“Nude. I do nude charcoal drawings and nude paintings.” He grins as he watches your face change color. This was unbeknownst to you, no one had said anything about this when you asked all around about this guy. You shake your head at the embarrassment, shoving it from your mind. 

“That's fine, that still sits under the category of ‘anything’.” He looks at you with an amused expression, running his tongue along his bottom lip before biting it with a smile. 

“Mmm, okay.” He puffs his chest and lifts his body back into a straight standing position. “This weekend then, the location is a bit far away but I’ll drive us there.” You uncross your arms, letting them fall to your sides as you hear his approval. 

“Before that though, I’m going to text you some examples of my work. If it’s something you think you can handle, then send me your banking info and I’ll send the first half of your pay.” He was still grinning, an egotistical one that he actually seemed to deserve based on his looks alone. 

You nodded in response, still taking in and processing everything he said. He walked toward the door, opening it halfway before turning back to look at you. “You look good in that apron.” Was all he said before closing the door behind him. 

In complete shock and disbelief, you sit in the closest chair you can find while trying to take in all of the info. “He actually said yes.” Was all that ran through your brain for the rest of the day, excitedly awaiting for his text. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Your classes were completed today, and you didn’t have a shift at your part-time job so you rushed home to eagerly pack some of your belongings for the trip in two days' time. Once you packed almost all of your necessities, you hopped in the shower and basked in the warm water that steamed up the whole room. 

A ding could be heard from your bedroom where your phone was charging, causing you to hastily finish your shower and rush to check if it was from Hyunjin. To your surprise, he sent over 15 pictures of his work, most of them charcoal drawings but some were paintings too. You open the message fully, finally able to see the detail in his work but not even getting past the second painting before the realization hits you. 

Every single woman in these paintings is in a sexual position, either from a man’s point of view in the bed or a bystander. You keep scrolling through the photos, seeing women handcuffed to a bed or being bent over a table, all of it is lewd and makes you want to clean your eyes with soap. The only thing reassuring about these pieces of art was that each woman seemed to be having a great time, or at the very least comfortable. 

You pondered the situation for quite some time, taking the night to mull over what kind of model shoot this actually is, and if it’s worth it. You woke up late in the morning, your alarm not going off from the lack of classes you were attending today. You sit up in your bed, only an oversized teeshirt covering your upper half as you rub your eyes. 

Picking up your phone, you see two texts. One from your landlord, and the other from Hyunjin. You open the message from your landlord first, which ultimately stated that your rent money better be sent to him by Sunday or there would be a problem. You sighed and slumped back into your bed, knowing you were out of options.

You opened Hyunjin’s text, which only read ��well?”, and nothing else. You kicked your feet into the bed, knowing you might regret accepting his offer- but doing exactly that. You sent over your bank info, mentally punching yourself in the face. 

Within minutes you got a notification that money was sent to your account, your phone slipping from your hand at the insane amount he wired over. You texted him immediately, asking if he made a mistake- and he plainly texted back that he didn’t. If this was the first half of your pay- you might be able to pay three months' worth of rent once the job was finished. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You were in the car viewing the trees that had finished changing color and were now shedding their leaves. Quiet music played, and very few words were exchanged. It was about two hours away, deep into the middle of nowhere. You started feeling anxious, wondering if you made a mistake and perhaps he was actually a serial killer.

“My parents bought this cabin a few years ago but have only used it a handful of times,” He started, one hand on the wheel and the other holding his head with an elbow propped on the edge of the car door. “It felt like a waste, so I’ve sorta commandeered it to be my own studio.” This explanation eased some of your nerves but brought up more questions you wanted answers to. 

Why did you start doing art? When did you start to take it seriously? Why charcoal? What would you be doing if not art? Is the cabin nice? Where do you get your looks from? Why use a live model rather than images online? Why choose me? 

His answers were plain, very little thought put behind them. 

Around the time I turned 4. When I turned 10. I like the way it feels in my hands. Probably some entry-level job. Very. Definitely my mom. Reasons. You’re beautiful. 

By the time you had ended your questionnaire, you were pulling into a long driveway, secluded from any other cottages or homes in the area. You felt the redness of your ears lingering from his compliment towards you. Once the trees slipped from your view, the car was pushed into park in front of a beautiful, modern, yet homey log cabin. You couldn’t help the muttering of your amazement as you exited the car. Hyunjin pressed a button on the dash, the trunk of the SUV opening for him to grab your bags and his. 

You couldn’t contain your excitement to see the inside, practically jumping up and down as he entered the passcode with the buttons on the electrical door lock. He opened the door and let you enter first, a small chivalrous gesture that you would remember. You slipped your shoes off in the doorway, taking in every detail of the way the walls were shifting slightly, the windows that were ever so slightly dusty from the lack of living in the goddamn house. You understood why people had vacation homes, but part of it felt so foreign and useless to you. 

The cabin seemed to be two stories high, with a basic living area, half bathroom, kitchen and dining space downstairs, and bedrooms on the second. The first floor was very much an open concept, with no walls separating the rooms as the wooden floors ran their course through its entirety. There was very little furniture, which you expected for a house that wasn’t very lived in. A basic leather couch facing a TV mounted on the wall adjacent to it, a small dining room table with a bowl of fake fruits, and no small appliances or decor on the kitchen countertops.

Once you found the stairs leading to the second floor, you gestured at them as Hyunjin came into your sight- making sure it was okay to proceed. He nodded, tagging along right behind you with the bags in hand. You opened each door, finding two bedrooms, a master bathroom, and an office turned into an art studio. Neither bedroom looked used at all, each piece of furniture placed perfectly like an IKEA storefront. 

He placed both bags of luggage onto the dresser of the master bedroom, making you tilt your head ever so slightly in confusion. You decided not to ask, or challenge him about it, seeing as you granted him the ‘anything’ part of the deal. You walk back downstairs as Hyunjin empties his clothes from his bag into the dresser, turning on a few lights and opening curtains to gain more lighting. You spread open a thick set of curtains that leads to a deck, and of course, you’re too curious to ignore it.

You open the sliding door, a breeze drafting past you before you step onto the porch. The wood beneath your bare feet is cold, Autumn has set in earlier here than in the city you live in. A couple of deck chairs inhabit the far left corner, but what really piqued your interest was the large hot tub on the opposite side, steam leaking from the sides of its covers. 

Steps from behind you disrupted your thoughts, causing you to spin and find Hyunjin leaning against the doorway. “You never told me there was a hot tub.” You said with a hint of excitement. “I told you to bring swimwear, didn’t I?” He retorted, scoffing before entering the house once more. You followed closely behind, shutting the sliding glass behind you. 

“We need to go to a store or something and get food for meals, ya know.” You didn’t make eye contact with him as you said this but rather spoke to the entire house instead. 

“Already covered.” He said plainly, a knock on the door being heard from the front of the house.

You eyed him suspiciously, not following too closely behind as he answered the door. He shook his head, silently mocking you while you stalked behind him cautiously. As he swung the door ajar, you noticed no people on the steps but paper bags. 

“Are you going to help me?” He asked with a cocky tone, leaning forward to grab a bag. 

“Oh. Yeah.” You slid past him and grabbed a bag as well, repeating this a few times until there were none left to collect. 

You were both gathered in the kitchen, emptying the contents of the bags onto the counters. When did he have time to place an order for groceries and what company would deliver them all the way out here? You pondered, sighing at the fact that it must be the perks of having money and slight fame to your family name. 

“I wasn’t sure what you would like, so I got a bit of everything.” He said quietly, opening cabinets to store snacks in.

He was right, there was a little bit of everything in these bags; from classic American junk food to what seemed like ingredients for a fancy pasta dish. There were a couple of out-of-place items, such as chocolate syrup and whipped cream, though you didn’t pay any mind to that and expected there to be ice cream in one of the bags as well. This menial, married-couple-esque type of task made you feel more at ease with your stay here.

After putting everything away, Hyunjin went back upstairs to finish unpacking, you assumed. It was just about lunchtime, perhaps an hour later than the designated time to eat, however, you were very hungry and a snack wasn’t going to cut it. Unfamiliar with having real ingredients to work with rather than just ramen and frozen vegetables, you had been staring into the fridge for too long trying to think of something to make. 

You had decided on something relatively simple, avocado toast and crackers with cheese. It took almost no time to prepare and left minimal dishes to be washed later. You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media while eating. It was very quiet, almost too subtle in your opinion. Not to mention how oddly timed the groceries had arrived. Everything about this escapade seemed to be going too well.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

That night, with instruction from Hyunjin, you relaxed in preparation for the next day's activities. You were comfortably slumped into the hot tub, letting the jets drive into the skin of your back and neck. It relieves so much pressure and relaxes some of your muscles that got knotted together by the drive up here. You hum to yourself, enjoying the warmth and bubbles. The high of being immersed in the water for so long starts to make you feel heavy, enjoyably light-headed in fact. 

You let yourself feel the bubbles dancing on your skin, little ones that cause you to shiver and big ones that float to the surface to end with a “pop”. The comfort of an eyes-closed, nighttime bath outside was something you’d never gotten to experience prior to this. 

You stand up, letting the cool breeze of the woods cool you down slightly before reentering the 104-degree water. Sitting back down, you jolt against the walls of the tub, an oddly placed jet shooting water between your legs. It startled you, but not in a bad way. You figured Hyunjin was sleeping or at the very least lying in bed based on the windows upstairs being dark, and no lights on. You let your body relax loosely in the tub, slowly slipping back into the sturdy stream of water.

You didn’t move once your body found the sweet spot, not necessarily grinding or moving around the jet- but not removing yourself from its presence either. You tilted your head back, the pleasing sensation of aerated water contributing to the high from the heat. You let yourself sigh in contentment, not even loud enough to hear from five feet away.

The longer you sit there, the more pressure you feel builds up in your stomach. With the feeling of butterflies and sensitive skin from below the waist you push into the jet slowly, rocking your hips back and forth. Small, quaint moans leave your lips while you feel yourself about to release, your back arched slightly as you move. You imagine the head of a handsome man between your legs, eyes closed as you rock your hips.

“I told you to relax for the night, not to fuck yourself in my hot tub.” Cold hands grip at the tops of your shoulders, fingers just above the collarbone. 

Your body tenses immediately, caught in the act after you assured yourself he would be asleep. You tilt your head back, seeing his eyes glaze over your body as your back rests against his stomach. Were his hands cold? Or was your skin just flaming hot from the water? He pushes you down, your ass slipping into the seat and your clit being flushed with pulsating water that makes you squirm. 

“This is the punishment you get,” He holds you still, your body forced down onto the jet; overstimulating you so much that your legs twitch and shake in response. “for not letting me watch.” 

He caresses the skin from your shoulder to your neck with one hand, the other keeping you firmly in place. He places his palm ever so gently around the front of your neck, feeling the vibrations in your throat while you moan in both pleasure and agony. It was too much, too much pressure building inside of you, too hot for your body to be emerged, and too embarrassing that he caught you out here. 

“Be good and sit still.” His voice sounded lower than you’d typically heard it, but his casual manner toward this situation is what really had you puzzled. You tried your best not to move, raising your hips ever so slightly to relieve the constant fluttering feeling against your clit. His hand travels up your neck to your chin, forcing eye contact.

He looks at you from above, almost amused at your attempt to obey him. His hand rests against your chin, thumb sliding against your lower lip. He forces it through, opening your mouth for you and hooking his thumb in like a freshly caught fish. 

With your lips sucking around his finger, he grins, unknowingly pleased at your response. You bite down gently, doe eyes staring back at him as he towers over you. The pressure inside of you is no longer able to be kept at bay, the buzzing in your ear becoming the only thing you hear once you start to ride your high. You shut your eyes tight, your face a scrunched-up mess as all of your muscles contract. 

Your core begs to be touched, your inner walls squeezing around nothing has you more bothered than the man watching you have a ridiculously overpowering orgasm. Your moans of satisfaction change into grunts and whines from the lack of friction in your core. He notices this, quite early on, but chooses to ignore it. He has all the power over you. Hell, he could drown you right now if he was ever so inclined to. He pushed his thumb further past your lips, letting your tongue curl around it.

He released his grip on you, removing his digit and backing away from you. “Let’s save the rest for tomorrow,” he says through his teeth, obviously showing frustration and restraint. You watch him walk away and slam the sliding glass doors behind him. If it weren’t for the lack of noise you would have guessed he shattered it with how much force he put behind closing it. 

Taking a deep breath you tried processing what had just occurred until something in the house caught your eye. You watch the lights slowly turn on upstairs, first the hallway light, then the bedroom, and finally the bathroom. You took this opportunity to dry yourself off quickly and get your things from the bedroom. Despite his anger and aggression, you felt safe from harm around him, seeing how gentle he truly is through his actions. 

You jog quietly up the stairs, the shower running as you rummage through your bag for clothes. You figured your best bet would be to sleep in the other bedroom, or even on the couch downstairs to avoid an awkward conversation. 

With only an oversized tee and a fresh pair of underwear slipped on, the water turns off, panic filling your chest. You gently put your luggage onto the floor, trying your best not to make any noise. With your hair still wet you sneakily climb into the bed and cover yourself almost completely with the heavy blanket. Hyunjin exits the bathroom as the air depletes from underneath the blanket, making it look like you are sound asleep, and have been for a few minutes. You could hear him shuffling around the room quietly, a couple of drawers opening and closing as he dressed himself. 

A dip in the bed alerts you of his presence, clenching the blanket between your fingers with anxiety; bringing the small hairs behind your neck to rise. His body radiates heat from under the covers, unlike yours which is half dry and slightly shivering.  

You try to mimic the breathing of a person in deep sleep, slow breaths that are steady and not too close together. This was difficult to achieve, your body betraying you with its little trembles due to the wetness of your hair. A TV is turned on, one you didn’t even know existed in this room until now. Hyunjin keeps the volume low; just barely being able to hear the voices coming through the screen. You both stayed like this for what felt like decades, with you pretending to be asleep and him doing whatever it was that he was doing. 

An ample shiver rolled through your body like a wave on the beach, there was no way he didn’t notice that one. 

“Hey, Y/N? Are you cold?” He gently nudges your shoulder while whispering oh so quietly. 

You responded with what you thought was best, a sleepy groan and pulling your body into a loose fetal position. This was apparently not the best option, as it led you exactly where you didn’t want to be. He had pulled your body close to his by your waist, not quite spooning you with close contact but bringing you close enough for his body to warm you up. He untucked hair from your neck, letting it fall past his fingers onto the pillow. 

“You don’t even know what you did to me,” he starts, drawing circles on your skin where your tee shirt left your shoulder exposed. “Had me rubbing one out in the shower for fuck’s sake.”

You could feel the boiling hot air leave his mouth as he spoke, your body soaking up every little ounce of heat possible from him. 

“I bet you’re not even sorry.” His voice drops lower. “Or maybe you would be so sorry that you would allow me to fuck your face while on your knees begging for forgiveness.” He hisses, sucking on his teeth. “All of the things I hope to capture on canvas with you tomorrow… I hope you’ll be good and let me.” He pulls himself closer to you, his hard-on prodding you. You get goosebumps once again, though not for being cold this time, but by being incredibly turned on. 

At some point in time, you fell asleep with his arm wrapped around your waist, his head resting on his arm with your bodies glued together. When you awoke, however, he was not behind you anymore but in front of you. Your arm wrapped around his chest and legs over his hips in a bear hug- your face nuzzled into the nape of his neck. 

It was still dark outside, the stars and moon illuminating the room with the TV now turned off. You didn’t want to move, in fear of waking Hyunjin. His warmth was too much for you now, especially in tandem with the thick comforter surrounding you. Your skin was glistening with sweat, and you decided to very carefully, and slowly attempt to roll over away from him. It took you a few minutes to safely remove your body from his. He only stirred once, but not enough to wake up. Finally, in a more comfortable, and less hot sleeping position, you were able to fall back into a blissful dream. 

The early morning glow let you know as soon as it was time to wake up, the sun shining in your eyes and blinding you temporarily as you awoke. You groaned and covered your face with the blanket, unwavering from your spot in bed. You stayed there for a little while, scrolling through TikTok and other apps until you felt you had enough energy to get up. You forgot about Hyunjin during this time, blissfully unaware when he was looking at you from the hallway.

“Hungry?” He questioned, dressed only in long pajama pants and slippers.

You sit up, looking him up and down and blushing not only at his bare chest and abdomen but the words he spoke to you last night when he assumed you were asleep. You answered with a simple ‘yes,’ and waited for him to walk downstairs before getting out from underneath the protective covers. You pulled on some sweatpants before going downstairs yourself, hair a disheveled mess and eyes still squinted halfway shut from sleep. 

You sat on the couch, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and attempting to smooth out the stray hairs from your bedhead. Hyunjin walks in front of you, handing you a cup of coffee that was steaming from the mug. You shoot him a small smile and thank him, sipping at it while enjoying the view from the windows. A beautiful lake was less than a five-minute walk away, a trail leading to it from the backyard. Kayaks, small canoes, and a speed boat were tied up to the dock, covered with thick material to keep them safe from bad weather. 

Hyunjin had whipped up a quick breakfast, calling for you to eat when it was ready. He had placed the plates of food on the square dining table, some pancakes stacked high with various toppings and sides. Bacon and eggs were on another plate, toast and jam on another. You marveled at the sight, mouth practically dripping with drool at such a feast. 

You each ate more than you could handle, slumped into the chairs with hands on your stomachs. You had the awkward small talk that comes along with morning breakfast, slowly pushing into deeper topics as time went by. After enough time, there was no more delicate conversation but simple banter between new friends. After helping him clean up and dry the dishes he washed, you decided to hop in the shower to get the chlorine smell off of your skin from the night prior. You ran through yesterday's events in your head, mentally and physically facepalming at your actions. 

You spent most of the day alone after that, sketching in your notebook, making lunch, and watching TV, all without the disruption of Hyunjin. You had called up to him from the bottom of the stairs to eat at lunch, to no avail, and left it at that. It was well past lunchtime, about 3 in the afternoon and you had become suspicious of what he could possibly be doing.

Walking upstairs, you checked the bedroom, and the bathroom, yet Hyunjin was still nowhere to be found. A light clattering noise was heard from the office-turned-studio, causing you to open the door just a crack. There he was, still in nothing but pajama pants in slippers while painting the view from the window just as you had done. 

“I thought you only painted lewd things, what a surprise.” You chuckled and leaned into the doorframe, watching him jump at your words. 

“You scared me,” He placed a hand on his chest, some woodsy colors of paint splattered on his skin. 

“I did try calling up to you for lunch, but you didn’t answer.” You walked deeper into the room, eyeing his painting. “I must have been focused.” He put his palette down, and his brush in the coffee mug full of green, cloudy water. “I was just warming up.” He stretches his arms and back, sighing before walking over to you. “Are you ready?” He looked down at you, eyebrow cocked while awaiting your response. 

You nodded, a sudden feeling of anxiety washing over you. He explained to you what he wanted, various poses and positions of your body for him to sketch first with pencil, then either using charcoal or paint to finalize it. 

“What you’re wearing right now is good, but I’ll need you to take your bra off.” After you gave him a questioning look, he explained further. “They don’t look good in my paintings or drawings. It’s easier to just draw your chest naturally.” You followed his lead, slipping the bra off of your shoulders and pulling it from underneath the dress. 

He abandoned his painting, grabbed a sketch pad and pencil, and guided you to the second bedroom. There were no pillows on this bed, only a white blanket covering its entirety, something you didn’t notice when you had explored the house yesterday. It sat maybe two and a half feet tall, the standard height of a queen-sized bed with a frame. He instructed you into your first pose, facing the bed at an angle- you had your right leg straightened out with your left knee planted onto the edge of the bed as if you were climbing onto it. You had pulled your cardigan down just barely lower than your shoulder blades, fingers gripping the fabric with your shoulders exposed. 

He had you still yourself, posing like that for probably about ten minutes, long enough for your arms to cramp and your ankle to feel sore from supporting your weight on only that one leg. He assured you that he was almost done, rapidly etching his pencil against the paper. 

This went on for a while, him sketching, you posing, no words exchanged beyond that. That was until each pose got more provocative, almost pornographic how he had you positioned. Hyunjin’s hands would touch you all over as he guided your limbs the way he wanted them to be. He would make little comments too, like how soft your skin was, how beautiful you looked in each pose, or how flexible you were. 

“Do you bruise easily?” He asked casually; as if you being splayed out in front of him while being completely naked wasn’t bothering him in the slightest. He must just be really serious about his art.

“Yes and no.” You answered him, turning your head towards his voice. His hands were untangling a rope, his head nodding at your words. 

“I guess we’ll find out now, won't we?” His voice was soft but his face showed other intentions. “You don't mind, right?” He asked, holding up the now untangled ropes. You shake your head, swallowing a gulp of air as he walks closer to you. 

“You don’t mind being completely restricted? Who knows what I could do to you?” His lips were pulled into a grin while speaking, carefully starting to wrap your limbs with the silky material. Hyunjin takes advantage of your silence. “Oh, maybe you like being tied up? Do we have a little rope bunny on our hands?” He’s got you almost completely tied up now, hands and feet pulled behind your back tightly. 

He backs away from you once he’s done with the knotting, admiring the work he’s done to your body. Breathing was difficult due to being stretched and bent like a pretzel. He bites on his knuckle and figures out which angle he likes best before drawing. Your skin is hot, a mixture of embarrassment and being turned on by his words. You decide to bite back. 

“I’m not sorry.” You declare, remembering the words he said to you the night prior. He shoots you a confused look before realizing what you mean, laughing at himself.

“So you were awake? Figures.” He steps back over to you, bending at the knees to face you at your level. “Just because you aren’t sorry about it doesn’t mean I couldn’t face fuck you right here, right now.” He brings his thumb to your lips, pushing it into your mouth just like he did last night. You wiggle and squirm, trying to free yourself from the rope that binds you. 

He smears your own saliva across your lips, holding your head up afterward by your chin. “Why do I feel like you would enjoy that more than me?” He stands up laughing, turning his body away from you. “No more sassy comments, love.” 

“Or what?” You still struggle against the ropes but hoped if you pressed his buttons enough that maybe he actually would fuck you. 

You’d never thought that dirty talk was sexy, or even remotely attractive. Dirty talk during sex with ex-boyfriends or just plain old hookups made you want to pull your ears off, but something to do with Hyunjin’s voice, or the way his lips move while he talks is so intoxicating.

He scoffed, turning back to you. “Or what? Are you genuinely curious, or just want to test me?” 

If you were able to shrug, you probably would have; but the only thing you managed to do was grin, giving him all the answers he needed. Your core was already throbbing from his soft, accidental touches to your skin while tying you up, his words only adding fuel to the fire. You’ve already done so many new things today, why not try more?

He races over to you, untying each knot he previously made and discarding the rope.

“Stand up.” He demands, backing far enough away for you to do so.

You sit up, stretching and rubbing at your limbs for just a moment before standing in front of him; your nipples hard, crotch fully visible, and your hair a mess. 

“I’m only going to ask this once, got it?” He starts, in turn having you nod in response. “Do you actually want me to fuck you? Because I won't stop once I start, no matter what.” He steps closer to you as he questions you, analyzing your face for any signs of fear or concern. You nod again.

“I need words.” He orders.

“Yes, I want this.” You’re barely able to get the words out of your mouth before he’s scooping you up, your body flung over his shoulder. He walks to the master bedroom, letting you fall onto the covers once he’s close enough to the bed. 

“Last chance.” He whispers into your ear, his body towering over yours with his hands planted onto the mattress on each side of your face. 

You pull your body up, just high enough to leave a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. His face changes emotion, from dark and intimidating to joyful and thrilled. He slips his hand under your head, pulling your lips to his again and kissing you deeply. He situates himself between your legs, groaning into your lips as his bulge presses into your core. Your hands wander all over him, feeling his muscular arms while his teeth find your lip and tugs at it roughly.

You wince and moan at the pain, just the reaction he was looking for. His dark brown hair falls over his face while he gropes at your breast, pinching the nipple between his fingers. You bring your hand to his head and pull the hair from his face only to grip at it and earn a profound moan from him. 

“Your body fits so perfectly underneath me,” He whispers into the kiss. “like a puzzle piece.” He lowers his head, aligning his mouth to the other nipple on your chest, nibbling and sucking at it erratically. “Too bad I’m going to break you.” His hand moves underneath your head, gripping strongly at your scalp and yanking your head back into the bed with your neck exposed. 

His lips travel up your chest, stopping at your collarbone and eventually behind your ear, kissing, and biting deep into your skin. Each pinch with his teeth earns a whine from you, your body arching and raising into his. He’s enjoying toying with you, slowly making his way back to your mouth. His kisses are salty, the sweat from your skin residing on his lips. His hand moves from your chest to your hips, gripping at them painfully with his nails digging into your skin- sure to leave marks. He pulls your hips into him, jamming his hard-on deep into your swollen mess of a cunt. 

There was no way he couldn’t feel how wet you were, your essence most definitely dampening through his fleece pants. He pulls away from you just slightly, his grip on your hair lesser than it was. He swipes a finger through your folds, your body jumping at the sudden contact on your swollen clit. 

“How long have you been this wet for me, darling?” He pushes his now-wet finger into your mouth, almost deep enough to make you gag. You suck it clean, whining at the taste of yourself as he enjoys the show. He pushes it deeper, his digit now poking at the back of your throat. You gag against it, his hips rutting into yours while sighing in pleasure. Despite the uncomfortable gagging, you were loving every second of this and never wanted it to end.

He practically fisted his fingers into your mouth while he dry-humped against your core, moans being exchanged between you both. He removed his fingers, instead using them to grab at your neck roughly.

“Is your cunt as tight as your throat is?” He whispers this into your ear with his hips still clothed and grinding into you. “I don’t know which one I want to stretch out first.” He squeezes your neck, airflow being cut short while he pulls away and looks into your tear-lined eyes. He pulls you up into a sitting position by your neck, releasing you once your face turns red. He steps off of the bed, grinning, while pulling his pants and boxers down his legs. 

“I’ll be nice and let you pick.” His voice has returned to its deep and sultry tone. His dick slaps against his defined stomach once released from his shorts. Your core throbs at the sight of his cock, so pretty and long. You can’t help looking at it, eyes darting from his length to his face over and over.

“Can’t decide? Alright.” On his knees he climbs to the top of the bed, leaning his back against the headboard while sitting up straight. “I’ll let you keep me warm while I play with you.” He grins and gestures for you to come to him, flipping your body around to face away from him. 

He lowers you onto his length slowly, easily able to prod at your soaked entrance with his tip. His head tilts back as your walls surround him, stretching out to accommodate his size. Your moan gets caught in your throat once he bottoms out, eyes squinted shut with pain and pleasure. He pulls your back into his chest, keeping a hand on your hip so you don’t move. 

Your head falls back onto his shoulder and you sit still on his cock, your body twitching for more movement or friction. Hyunjin’s other hand rubs at your thigh, almost comforting you. 

“H-Hyunjin.” You breathe out softly, your body now aching for more attention at your core. “Yes, baby?” He responds uncharacteristically soft, pulling loose hairs from your face and tucking them behind your ear. “Please touch me.” You plead, attempting to lift your hips, failing due to his stronghold against you. “Only because you said please,” He starts, his hand traveling to between your legs. “and because I want to feel you grip at my dick when I make you cum.” He whispers into your ear, nipping at it slightly before his fingers meet your core. 

He starts to strum at your clit, purposefully making your body jolt as he holds you close. He adds more pressure, rubbing circularly until finding where you enjoy it the most. You clench around him once he does, moaning quietly as your body squirms. 

“Stay still and keep my cock warm, beautiful.” He rubs your sweet spot steadily, your breathing still heavy and littered with moans. 

His voice sends a shiver down your spine, amplifying his touch. You already felt so close. Your stomach full of butterflies and your chest tight, toes curling as your body floods with pressure. He notices this, picking up the pace and moaning in unison with you- your walls clenching around his cock tight. Your legs are shaking like crazy from the overstimulation on your clit. Within a millisecond you feel the rush of your orgasm flooding through you, your back arching and shoulders digging into his chest as you let it overtake your body. He rubs your clit more aggressively while moaning in unison with you, his movements making your high last much longer than you ever had before. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you're gripping me so fucking tight.” He growls, just barely rutting his hips up into you. 

You cry out his name not long before your body relaxes into him, feeling exhausted at how strongly you came. He slows his movements on your clit, still thoroughly enjoying the way your walls pulsate against his length. Removing his hand, he wraps his arms around you tight, holding you close to him. 

“Fucked out already?” Hyunjin questions after a few moments. “I’m not done with you yet, you’ll have to bare with me, darling.” He pushes you forward onto the bed, his cock slipping out of you as you land on your stomach, too tired to move. 

The bed dips, and lifts back up as he leaves the room, only to return a just moment later. He pulls your arms behind your back, using a small piece of the rope he grabbed to tie your wrists. You lay there limp, letting him play with your body like a doll as he positions you the way he wants to. He pulls your ass up into the air, doggy style with your face and chest planted into the mattress. He’s speaking words to you, but they’re unclear because of the ringing in your ears from your orgasm. 

You feel his dick press into you again, his hips slowly pressing further into you until reaching your hilt. A moan escapes from deep within his chest, his hands gripping at your waist and pulling you into him. The feeling of his cock pulsating inside of you pulls your consciousness back into the room, your body feeling exhilarated once more. Once he starts pumping his length into you, the sweet feeling of pain and pleasure resume.

“You know,” He breathes deeply before continuing. “Part of me wants to treat you like an angel and the other wants to fuck you so hard you’re unable to walk for the rest of the night.” 

His words cripple you, that and how hard he pulled out and rammed himself into you once more. Your body jerks forward from the impact and you let out such a loud moan that the neighbors are sure to hear it. He draws out his actions, slamming the tip of his cock into your hilt over and over until he’s satisfied, and slows his movement.

“No one’s ever taken my dick this well,” He pulls your upper body up by your restricted wrists, still on your knees as your back meets his chest. “I knew you were a special one, but not this special.” He raises a leg, planting the sole of his foot on the bed for leverage as he starts to pound into you again. 

Nasty squelching sounds fill the room, the combination of how wet you are and how fast he fucks you resulting in such. He holds your body against his, pummeling away at your cunt and bringing his hand to your neck. Your groaning and whining get stuck in your throat, his ring-decorated fingers squeezing your throat as if they belonged there. Your walls have adjusted to him, no longer feeling the pain of his size but now accepting it, feeling every vein and ridge it had to offer. 

“I think I’ll be claiming you as mine after this.” His voice is loud in your ear while declaring his rights to ownership, the thought of more situations like these in the future had you feeling even more wet. 

“Please.” is all you can mutter from your mouth, words barely traveling past your lips from the lack of airflow. He hears you, loosening his grip to let you repeat yourself. “Please, Hyunjin.” 

The impact of your words was heavier than you expected them to be, a moan leaving his lips at the pronunciation of his name. “Again.” He growls. 

“Hyunjin..” You repeat, whining as you draw your words out. 

He sloppily ruts into you, his name coming from your mouth has an affect on him that he had never felt before. His dick drives into your hilt, his teeth now piercing into the skin of your shoulder as he starts to feel his first high of the night. You yelp at the pain, only making him bite deeper, and pound you harder while your breasts jiggle and bounce. 

Neither of you can speak at this point, feeling so close to your highs. You mumble random curse words as your walls tighten, his breaths hot and fast against your skin. Grunts escape from Hyunjin as he feels the electricity travel through his body, your cunt clenching around him only adding more enjoyment. You feel extra sensitive after your first orgasm, your insides screaming with joy as he wrecks you. Never have you been able to cum without some type of stimulation on your clit, but the way he rocks his dick into your body makes it feel so easy.

His hold around your neck loosens, and eventually, his hands grip only at your waist to pull you deeper onto his length. You try to assist him, bouncing and forcing your weight down with every thrust. “Fuck, Y/N.” His voice is shaking, his orgasm starting to take him over. 

That sets you off, the way your body is able to make him fold brings you over the edge and shaking with bliss. He cums right alongside you, his cock twitching as his seed expels from his body and mixes with your essence. He keeps pushing himself into you despite already cumming, letting you ride out your orgasm to the fullest. You throb around him, a wiggling mess as you scream out his name.

Once finished, you find yourself freed from the ropes, lying on your side under the covers. Hyunjin’s hands are gently running along your body, soft touches causing you to shiver. 

“Look who finally woke up.” He quietly taunts, a grin plastered on his lips. 

He plants a kiss on your shoulder, making sure you’re aware of his presence in your exhausted state. “I don’t remember passing out.” Your voice is raspy, both from sleeping and screaming at the top of your lungs for the last hour. “Mmm, well you did, with my dick still inside of you actually. Looks like cumming twice is your limit.” He lifts the covers and steps out of bed, holding his hands out for you to grab. “For now, at least.” He smiles down at you, his tongue rimming his bottom lip as a tease.

He runs you a bath, joining you and helping you wash up from behind. He’s careful with his touches, gently washing your hair and making sure not to get any water in your eyes when rinsing it out. He wraps a large towel around you after stepping out of the tub, grabbing one for himself afterward. 

“I meant what I said earlier.” He says from across the room while putting on clean clothes. “You’re mine now.”

[littlefella69]

DUCK WHO?????

It was always me versus the world Until I found it's me versus me Why, why, why, why? Why, why, why, why? Just remember, what happens on Earth stays on Earth! We gon' put it in reverse

Darling, I told you many times And I am telling you once again Just to remind you, sweetheart That my-

Oh, Lamar, Hail Mary and marijuana, times is hard Pray with the hooligans, shadows all in the dark Fellowship with demons and relatives, I'm a star Life is one funny mo'fucker A true comedian, you gotta love him, you gotta trust him I might be buggin', infomercials and no sleep Introverted by my thoughts; children, listen, it gets deep

See, once upon a time inside the Nickerson Garden projects The object was to process and digest poverty's dialect Adaptation inevitable, gun violence, crack spot Federal policies raid buildings and drug professionals Anthony was the oldest of seven Well-respected, calm and collected Laughin' and jokin' made life easier, hard times, Momma on crack A four-year-old tellin' his nanny he needed her

His family history, pimpin' and bangin' He was meant to be dangerous Clocked him a grip and start slangin' 15, scrapin' up his jeans with quarter pieces Even got some head from a smoker last weekend Dodged a policeman, workin' for his big homie Small-time hustler, graduated to a brick on him 10, 000 dollars out of a project housing, that's on the daily Seen his first mill' 20 years old, had a couple of babies

Had a couple of shooters Caught a murder case, fingerprints on the gun they assumin' But witnesses couldn't prove it That was back when he turned his back and they killed his cousin He beat the case and went back to hustlin' Bird-shufflin', Anthony rang The first in the projects with the two-tone Mustang That 5.0 thing, they say 5-0 came Circlin' parking lots and parking spots And hoppin' out while harrassin' the corner blocks

Crooked cops told Anthony he should kick it He brushed 'em off and walked back to the Kentucky Fried Chicken See, at this chicken spot There was a light-skinned nigga that talked a lot With a curly top and a gap in his teeth He worked the window, his name was Ducky He came from the streets, the Robert Taylor Homes Southside Projects, Chiraq, the Terror Dome Drove to California with a woman on him and 500 dollars

They had a son, hopin' that he'd see college Hustlin' on the side with a nine-to-five to freak it Cadillac Seville, he'd ride his son around on weekends Three-piece special with his name on the shirt pocket 'Cross the street from the projects, Anthony planned to rob it Stuck up the place before, back in '84 That's when affiliation was really eight gears of war So many relatives tellin' us, sellin' us devilish works Killin' us, crime, intelligent, felonious Prevalent proposition with 9's

Ducky was well-aware They robbed the manager and shot a customer last year He figured he'd get on these niggas' good sides Free chicken every time Anthony posted in line Two extra biscuits, Anthony liked him and then let him slide They didn't kill him, in fact, it look like they're the last to survive Pay attention, that one decision changed both of they lives One curse at a time

Reverse the manifest and good karma, and I'll tell you why You take two strangers and put 'em in random predicaments Give 'em a soul so they can make their own choices and live with it 20 years later, them same strangers, you make 'em meet again Inside recording studios where they reapin' their benefits Then you start remindin' them about that chicken incident Whoever thought the greatest rapper would be from coincidence? Because if Anthony killed Ducky, Top Dawg could be servin' life While I grew up without a father and die in a gunfight

crikey

[thursdaygarbageday]

The Enchanting Woods of Whimsywood: A Tale of Life and Joy !!!

In a quaint little town called Whimsywood where the trees giggled and the rivers danced, lived a not-so-perfect but genuinely kind-hearted woman named Ann Mary. Ann Mary had a knack for getting herself into delightful predicaments, all while sharing an infectious joy that brightened everyone’s day.

One sunny afternoon, while tending to her garden of singing sunflowers, Ann Mary exclaimed, “You know, they say gardening is a way of showing that you believe in!” To which her sunflower, Sunny Jim, replied, “As long as you don’t plant cucumbers! They think they’re the star of the show!” Ann Mary chuckled and said, "Fair enough! You guys are definitely the daisies of my day!"

Now, Whimsywood was known for its annual Talent Show, where every resident showcased their quirky skills. The grand prize was a magical spoon, said to stir up anything, including laughter and happiness. Ann Mary decided this year she would enter with her unique talent: making the most absurdly funny faces.

As the night of the Talent Show arrived, the townsfolk filled the colorful tent, buzzing with excitement. The mayor, a rotund man with a penchant for fancy hats, opened the show with a quote: “Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving.” He promptly lost his balance and fell off stage, prompting a round of laughter from the audience.

When it was Ann Mary’s turn, she took a deep breath and stepped onto the stage. “Remember,” she announced playfully, “if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you!” With that, she contorted her face into the silliest expressions, each one more ridiculous than the last, accompanied by goofy sound effects.

The crowd roared with laughter. A little squirrel named Nutty, who was the self-proclaimed judge, squeaked, “If I had a nut for every funny face, I’d have… well, that’s a lot of nuts!” Ann Mary winked and continued her act, adding exaggerated dances and silly poses.

Just as she was about to crown her finale with a particularly bizarre face—a combination of a duck and a llama—something unexpected happened. A sparkly gust of wind swirled around her, and suddenly, her funny faces created magical illusions of dancing animals around her! There were rabbits doing the cha-cha and bears waltzing gracefully.

The crowd gasped, but Nutty shouted, “What’s better than a bear in a tutu? A bear with a sense of humor!” And with that, he burst into laughter, bringing everyone back to the joyous moment.

Finally, as the show came to an end, the mayor regained his composure and announced, “And the winner of this year’s Talent Show, showcasing not just a talent but also a gift of joy, is… Ann Mary!” The audience erupted into applause, and Nutty tossed a handful of acorns into the air in celebration.

Ann Mary accepted the magical spoon with a grin, saying, “This spoon might stir laughter, but it’s the joy we share that truly makes the magic happen.” The townspeople cheered, and the night ended in a whirlwind of jokes, laughter, and tales shared under the twinkling stars.

From that day on, Ann Mary became the heart of Whimsywood, using her magical spoon not just to stir up good food but to sprinkle joy everywhere she went—even if it meant a few silly faces along the way. After all, as she often reminded her friends, “Life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans… or funny faces!”

#power #powerpittsburgh #pittsburghpower #pittsburgh

[rodionray]

What is John silent about?

The bell rang, and a young girl rushed into the cafe. She immediately took a table and signaled the waiter.

"Mary?" the waiter exclaimed joyfully.

"John! What a coincidence! How many years has it been since I visited our town? Sit with me!"

"Yes, it's me," John smiled and sat opposite Mary. "The last time we saw each other was at graduation! How's your studies at the School of Arts?"

"In six months, my studies will be over! I don't want to jinx it, but my teacher promised to arrange some film auditions for me this year!"

"I'm so happy for you! You've always wanted this!"

"Want to hear something? Remember our graduation? Someone put an envelope with a large sum of money and a cut-out cover of the book 'Truth about Forever' by Sarah Dessen in my bag? Everyone knew that playing the lead role in the movie adaptation of that book was my dream! And everyone knew I couldn't afford the tuition! But no one ever confessed to the act! I left for New York without knowing the name of the person who gave me that chance. Well, finally, I found out who it was!"

"Really? Who was it?" John adjusted his glasses with thick lenses.

"Our classmate, Bobby! Three years ago, we accidentally met in New York. Turns out he's studying at the business school in the neighboring district! He invited me on a date and told me about his noble gesture! Unbelievable, John! Do you believe in destiny? Maybe, that's what it is! We got married a week ago! Oh..." Mary blushed, "I hope your high school feelings for me have cooled off by now? It's been a long time..."

"Of course, Mary. I'm so happy for you both," John smiled.

"And what about you? Are you not studying anywhere?" she asked, looking at his apron.

"I'm planning to. I think I'll work for another year and save up the necessary amount for tuition."

"But as far as I remember, you had money..."

"Yes, but life is a strange thing; you can find yourself in a predicament..."

"Too bad, really too bad. I'll have a coffee and a double Big Mac, John."

The guy took the order and returned to work. Ten minutes later, she left, bidding him farewell with just a smile and the jingle of the bell. That evening, the television in his house was silent, the radio wasn't playing, and the laptop was asleep. John sat at the table, and his hands instinctively reached for the bookshelf. He took out a book without a cover, placed it on the table, and put on his glasses. Pulling out a bookmark, John opened the book to the most worn-out page: "I must admit, unrequited love is much better than the real thing. I mean, it's perfect... Until something hasn't even started, you don't have to worry about it ending. It has endless potential."

[dearworms]

Worm's TBR List

One Last Stop

"One Last Stop" follows the life of August Landry, a young woman who moves to New York City to start over. She meets a captivating and mysterious woman named Jane on the subway, but soon discovers that Jane is trapped in a time loop on the Q train, unable to leave the 1970s. August and her friends embark on a mission to unravel the mystery behind Jane's predicament and free her from the time loop. Along the way, August and Jane's relationship deepens, leading to a heartwarming and magical love story that transcends time and space.

Masters of Death

Viola Marek is a struggling real estate agent, and a vampire. But her biggest problem currently is that the house she needs to sell is haunted. The ghost haunting the house has been murdered, and until he can solve the mystery of how he died, he refuses to move on. Fox D’Mora is a medium, and though is also most-definitely a shameless fraud, he isn’t entirely without his uses—seeing as he’s actually the godson of Death. When Viola seeks out Fox to help her with her ghost-infested mansion, he becomes inextricably involved in a quest that neither he nor Vi expects (or wants).

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

It is the morning of the reaping that will kick off the tenth annual Hunger Games. In the Capital, eighteen-year-old Coriolanus Snow is preparing for his one shot at glory as a mentor in the Games. The once-mighty house of Snow has fallen on hard times, its fate hanging on the slender chance that Coriolanus will be able to outcharm, outwit, and outmaneuver his fellow students to mentor the winning tribute. he odds are against him. He's been given the humiliating assignment of mentoring the female tribute from District 12, the lowest of the low.

Love on the Brain

Bee Königswasser lives by a simple code: What would Marie Curie do? If NASA offered her the lead on a neuroengineering project - a literal dream come true - Marie would accept without hesitation. Duh. But the mother of modern physics never had to co-lead with Levi Ward. Sure, Levi is attractive in a tall, dark, and piercing-eyes kind of way. But Levi made his feelings toward Bee very clear in grad school - archenemies work best employed in their own galaxies far, far away. But when her equipment starts to go missing and the staff ignore her, Bee could swear she sees Levi softening into an ally, backing her plays, seconding her ideas... devouring her with those eyes. The possibilities have all her neurons firing. But when it comes time to actually make a move and put her heart on the line, there's only one question that matters: What will Bee Königswasser do?

[darkmagyk]

Which is also part of the point of Lizzie turning down Mr. Collins. She knows her mother married her father for money, and yet, it didn't save her, and they are both miserable.

Mr. Collins is actually making a decent offer to the Bennet Girls. But because its an offer only about making him look good, not about mutual affection, it's not a offer that would have gone over well. (Something is made of Mary being a better choice, in the narrative and in a lot of Janite literature and discussions, and I don't think that would have worked out, either, in a way I'll mention below.) Lizzie would have gone into the relationship thinking poorly of her husband and though she has good manners, it's clear she wouldn't have been able to play pretend with him. And even more so, she wouldn't have been able to play pretend with Lady Catherine. Lizzie spends the whole time in Kent making it clear she isn't going to kowtow to her, something that Lady Catherine expects of everyone, but especially of those directly in her power.

Which brings us to Charlotte. Because though Charlotte's choice to marry Mr. Collins is often framed as her bowing to either social pressure or practicality, I think there is a lot to suggest that Charlotte does have some things in common with Mr. Collins. She's perfectly willing to support his career. She's attentive to Lady Catherine. She's also clocks Darcy's interest in Lizzie, and is very aware that having a best friend who's the Mistress of Pemberley would mean good things for her husbands livings going forward. (This is, partly, where I think Mary would have failed. Perhaps they might have liked moralizing together, but I don't think Mary would ever have been in the mood to fawn over Lady Catherine, and certainly not Anne, when Mary has spent her whole life trying to make a point about being accomplished and well thought of.) It's also worth noting that Mr. Collins is very like Sir William. Sir William is an amiable man who is constantly name dropping the important places he's been and trying to make connections that way. (Compare Sir William trying to connect with Darcy over being at St James's and Mr. Collins making the Lady Catherine connection.) It is the type of person Charlotte knows and has affection for. (Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet, and Mr. Bennet are all embarrassments in their own way, but they are not the same kind of embarrassments.). Charlotte and Mr. Collins are a good pair.

And Mr. Bennet, who knows how miserable both he and his wife are in their marriage, has enough...affection to support his daughters in not making matches that will make them miserable. He is fine with the Mr. Collins thing, and he even tried to talk her out of Darcy basically by saying "um...you won't like a match that you can't respect." Which is a great great thing for him to do. He wants his daughters (at least Lizzie and Jane, it seems) to be happy. He knows that money isn't everything in marriage.

The problem is that he doesn't then do anything to help the other side of the predicament. (Or very little, he does go and meet Mr. Bingly.) He doesn't keep the younger three out so Lizzie and Jane have less competition, he doesn't watch or educate them. He doesn't work for Lizzie and Jane to find matches. He doesn't save money for his family. (Which I do think is slightly more understandable. Mrs. Bennet is probably in her early 40s. And by all accounts still a beautiful woman, it would make sense that they only gave up within the last few years.)

So Mrs. Bennet only cares about the money (because she knows she'll get the brunt of it when he dies, because he's almost certainly older then her.) . And Mr. Bennet doesn't care enough about the money and material position of his family once he dies or about (but does care about them not being miserable before him. Which might even lend some credence to why Mary, Kitty, and Lydia are out without Jane and Lizzie being married. He wants them to have fun.)

And so they are all in bad spot.

If none of them married, how desperate would the Bennett girls actually have been?

Well the only dowry they have is £50 apiece from their mother’s small inheritance, per year; so that’s a total of £250 generated by Mrs. Bennet’s inherited investments per annum.

The Dashwoods (four women) are living on £500 a year when they are forced to live in Barton Cottage (with good-will making the rent presumably ridiculously low thanks to Sir John Middleton’s good nature, to say nothing of all the dinners and outings he invites the ladies to, which will help them economize on housekeeping costs for heavier meals.)

So there would be six Bennet women left to live on half as much as the Dashwoods are barely scraping by on. £250 is roughly considered enough to keep ONE gentleman at a barely-genteel level of leisure (presuming he does not keep a horse or estate or have any major expenses beyond securing his own lodgings/clothes/meals at a level becoming of a gentleman.)

None of the Bennet girls have been educated well enough for them to be governesses to support themselves, so…yes, their situation would heavily rely on mega-charity from others to just help them survive, much less maintain them in the lifestyle they’ve been accustomed to. The Dashwood women have NO social life beyond the outings provided by Sir John and the offer of Mrs. Jennings to host the older girls in London–otherwise they’d be stuck in their cottage, meeting absolutely no eligible men, creating a cycle of being poor and unmarried and too poor to meet anyone with money they could marry.

If the Bennet girls don’t at least have ONE of them marry well enough to help the rest before their father dies, they are really, truly, deeply fucked.

They may joke about beautiful Jane being the saviour of the family, but…it’s true. Mr. Bennet failed his daughters several times over in A) presuming he’d have a son, B) not saving money independently from his income to support his family after his death when it became clear he wasn’t going to have a son, C) not educating them well enough to enable them to support themselves in even in the disagreeable way of being a governess, D) not making any effort to escort his daughters to London or even local assemblies to help their matrimonial chances because he just doesn’t feel like it, E) throwing up his hands and shrugging when faced with the crises of Mr. Collins and Wickham.

Much as we are relieved on a romantic level that Mr. Bennet’s support of Elizabeth saves her from parental pressure to accept Mr. Collins, Mrs. Bennet is NOT A DICK for pushing for the match, because on a material level it very much means they get to KEEP THEIR HOUSE and gain a connection to the powerful patron Lady Catherine de Bourgh, which could be VERY advantageous for the other unmarried girls.

And the scandal of Wickham very nearly scuppers the chances of ANY of the other girls, and Wickham is a further DRAIN on the family finances, not a man who is going to substantially be able to support them. It is SUCH a disaster, and of course there’s not much Mr. Bennet can do until they are found, but he’s away in London and doing…what, exactly? Mr. Gardiner takes over and manages everything and Mr. Bennet seems happy to just let him.

Mr. Bennet does the ABSOLUTE LEAST, and actively damages his children’s futures by his inaction AND by his one action to support Lizzie’s individual needs being prioritized over the collective gain, which…I mean, Lizzie is going to be JUST as homeless and destitute as her sisters when he dies, so much good being Dad’s Favourite is going to do her. :/

[ao3feed-peterparker]

Leave a Trail Behind

by Himiko_Shune When a dragon finds itself on its deathbed, it meets and befriends a young Peter Parker who is in the same predicament. With nothing left to lose, it grants him a wish. Years later, someone is anonymously sending packages containing evidence and information on criminal organizations to police stations, throughout New York City. No address or name, no clue or trace. No one knows who it is, where they are, or what the motive behind all of this is, and some people are a little more than curious to find out. Notably a certain Devil & Moon, but sometimes you get more than you bargained for. —————— This is a rewrite of my fanfic ‘Last Hybrid Standing’ where many changes have been made. You’ll notice a big difference, but the key concept is the same. Please keep mind of the tags as some will be added as we go along. Words: 4207, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Daredevil (TV), Moon Knight (TV 2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Matt Murdock, Steven Grant (Marvel), Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, Karen Page, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson, Original Characters, Richard Parker (Marvel), Mary Parker (Marvel), May Parker (Spider-Man), Ben Parker, Jessica Jones (Marvel), Danny Rand, Luke Cage, Wade Wilson, Frank Castle, Brett Mahoney Relationships: Peter Parker & Original Character(s), Matt Murdock & Peter Parker, Steven Grant & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Marc Spector, Matt Murdock & Franklin "Foggy" Nelson & Karen Page, Matt Murdock & Peter Parker & Wade Wilson, Peter Parker & Defenders, Steven Grant & Jake Lockley & Peter Parker & Marc Spector, Steven Grant & Khonshu (Moon Knight) & Jake Lockley & Marc Spector Additional Tags: Dragon/spider hybrid Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Past Torture, Blood and Violence, Mute Peter Parker, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Everyone Loves Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, Spider-Man doesn’t exist, Precious Peter Parker via https://ift.tt/YNP76Hs

[dayneston]

House of the Dragon: Rhaenyra Targaryen and The Politics of Having Illegitimate Heirs

I don’t think people understand why Alicent was so bothered by Rhaenyra having illegitimate children as much as she was. Yes, part of it was coming from a place of frustration at Rhaenyra for scoffing at tradition and not honouring her marriage vows, but Alicent’s primary focus was on the politics - and how it put her own children in mortal danger.

Painting: The Execution of Lady Jane Grey

You see, if Rhaenyra had legitimate children with Ser Laenor, then the Greens would have no reason whatsoever to try and replace Rhaenyra as heir to the throne with Aegon. They, in truth, would’ve been usurpers. But as we know, Rhaenyra having bastards not only weakened her own claim to the throne but by it, she has given her enemies a legitimate reason to support Aegon instead of her. Just think about it - nearly every lord in the realm has a bastard of his own. If Rhaenyra puts her own bastards on the throne, it sets a precedent - that bastards can have a claim to a title just as much as legitimate children can. This of course presents a HUGE crisis to the lords who probably have multiple bastards running around, now all potential heirs to his house. Some lords might even have older bastard brothers, brothers who would potentially be better rulers than them if they were trueborn. Brothers who would follow Rhaenyra’s suit and place themselves in positions of great power and usurp their trueborn sibling’s claims. No doubt, this would lead to violence, in-fighting, bloodshed and the potential extinction of houses and bloodlines that go back thousands of years.

So naturally, any lord who would be fearful of this playing out would naturally ally themselves with the trueborn children of House Targaryen - Alicent’s children. Whether the Greens want it or not, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron would become unwilling figureheads for rebellions against Rhaenyra. These rebels would rally themselves around Alicent’s children, demand them to be crowned instead of Rhaenyra, and of course, Rhaenyra would have absolutely no choice but to execute her half-siblings, to save herself and her children. Whether Alicent’s children want it or not, they are living, breathing, constant challenges to Rhaenyra’s throne.

It’s the exact predicament Mary I of England faced - a Catholic queen who had just deposed her Protestant cousin, the Lady Jane Grey, Mary had no choice but to order 16 year old Jane’s execution in 1554. Despite having Jane imprisoned, rebels kept on popping up around England, all marching on London to dethrone Mary in Jane’s name, even though Jane herself was oblivious to what was happening because she was behind bars and had already relinquished her crown and declared for Mary. Mary was hoping to restore Catholicism to England and was planning to marry a foreign prince so she could provide England with a Catholic heir - but she knew so long as Jane lived, Mary, her future children and England would never know peace. So she reluctantly signed Jane’s death warrant, causing the death of one of England’s most tragic figures.

This would be the fate of Alicent’s children if Rhaenyra ever ascended the throne. No matter how good willed Queen Rhaenyra would be to her siblings, it wouldn’t last. The minute the first lord lit the beacon of rebellion and openly called Rhaenyra’s sons illegitimate usurpers of Alicent’s trueborn children with no right to the throne, Alicent’s children would’ve been executed. There’s absolutely no way Rhaenyra would ever chose Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron’s lives over her own living children - what mother would?