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amazingnerd · 2 years ago

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The Dragons Fire

chapter 1.

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x OC!Fem!Reader

themes: Misogyny, enemies to lovers, Daemon being a d!ck.

Previous: prologue

Next: chapter 2

It is a sunny day in King's Landing. There is not a cloud in the sky and the sun's rays are bright and blistering over the city. The common folk walk the streets, going about their days as they usually do, buying and selling things, exchanging conversation, and laughing together. It's a pleasant scene.

A lone carriage rides through the city, carrying a woman foreign to this area of the realm. Gaelyra is sitting in the carriage with her trusted sword at her hip and her handmaid by her side. Gaelyra takes comfort in that she was allowed to bring Terra with her, at least she will have one friend in this place.

Terra, unlike Gaelyra, has never left the Riverlands. So Gaelyra is not surprised to find her looking out of the carriage windows with wonder, they should he arriving at the castle soon, and after that they will meet the king.

Even though the king is a distant relative to Gaelyra, she has never met him. Will he be a hard king? Will he be harsh and strict? Or will he be a kind and gentle man? She knows not. And she will not deny that she is nervous.

"My lady..." Gaelyra is pulled from her thoughts as she hears Terra's soft voice beside her, and she looks over at her. Terra points towards the window, "I believe we are here..." she says, leaning forward to peek out the window just as the carriage comes to a stop. Gaelyra watches her lady-in-waiting, and she is startled as Terra jumps back away from the window to grip Gaelyra's arm with a gasp, "It's the princess!" She whispers excitedly.

Ah yes. The princess Rhaenyra. The woman who will sit the Iron Throne after King Viserys passes. Of course Gaelyra knows of the princess, who doesn't? She is the first woman who will inherit the Iron Throne. One would have to be living under a rock at the bottom of the ocean to not know who she is.

She actually came to greet Gaelyra? That is surprising. Gaelyra just assumed that they would send a knight or servant, not the heir to the throne.

Terra takes in a deep breath to calm herself and she straightens her posture, "Pardon me, my lady. I shall announce you at once." She says. The opens the door and she climbs down, leaving Gaelyra alone for the first time in hours.

Gaelyra closes her eyes, as if meditating, as she hears Terra announce her;

"I present the Lady Gaelyra of the honorable blood of Vaela. The first of her name, a daughter of the first men, and the jewel of the Riverlands."

Taking a deep breath, she knows that it is now or never and she stands up from her seat, walking down the carriage steps until she touches down on the cobblestone. She looks up, and she is immediately met by the gaze of the princess herself.

Though she has been through the trials of marriage and the pain of childbirth, the princess Rhaenyra is as beautiful as they say. Her hair is long and glittering in the bright sun, and her purple eyes are calm and intelligent. The gaze of a future queen. The eyes of a mother.

Gaelyra places a hand upon her chest and she bows her head, "Your highness," she says.

Rhaenyra smiles at Gaelyra, "Do not bother with that, we are to be family, lady Gaelyra." She says.

Gaelyra lifts her head, and she is calmed by the kindness in the princess's eyes. She straightens her posture, and Rhaenyra speaks, "I will have the servants take your things to your new quarters," she says, turning her head and giving a nod. On cue, a collection of men come and take the various trunks and bags off of the back of the carriage to carry them inside.

Terra knows that she should go with these servants to Gaelyra's quarters, but she hesitates. She and Gaelyra are strangers here, she does not want to leave her lady here alone.

She looks at Gaelyra, "You will be alright, my lady?" She questions. Gaelyra looks at Terra and she gives her a nod. Terra bows her head and she turns, following the other servants into the castle.

Now alone, Gaelyra turns to look at Rhaenyra. The princess smiles, "Come, I will take you to my father. He is most eager to meet you." She says as she turns to walk to the castle, taking her sons hands, who had been standing beside her to greet Gaelyra, and leading them up the stairs.

Gaelyra watches Rhaenyra walk off, and she stays where she is for a moment. Turning her head, she stares out at the city. From where she stands there is the sound of the peoples chatter and the sound of music. Faint but clear. She can hear the the breeze blow past her, she can feel the sunshine from above, it is warm, and it is calm. So different from what Gaelyra feels in her heart.

She is in a strange place surrounded by strange people. Completely alone. Her home is far away, her beloved brothers are hundreds of miles away and her mother... She lowers her head as she remembers her mother's expression as she stormed out of her parents chambers in anger. The worry, the sorrow, the pain. Pain that something is going to happen to her daughter that she cannot stop. Pain that she may have just lost her daughter because of this unforseen engagement.

Gaelyra sighs. She will have to write to her mother soon. At least to reassure her mother that her anger is not directed at her.

"My lady?"

She quickly remembers that she is supposed to be following the princess and she turns, moving quickly to catch up with the royal woman.

Unbeknownst to Gaelyra, she was being watched from one of the castle balconies by a certain rogue prince. His eyes watch her as she stares out at the city, seemingly lost in thought where she stands. Even from high above her, he can see the way her hair shines in the light of the sun. With every movement she makes, no matter how small, her hair reflects the suns rays as if each strand was made up of flames. He can not deny, it is quite enchanting to look at.

He tilts his head slightly, a barely noticeable movement. And as Gaelyra turns to enter the castle, he too turns and enters, heading straight for the throne room.

••••

Gaelyra is given a tour of the castle by the princess herself and her young children, who both couldn't be over six years old. She is shown every inch of this castle by them. The children are most eager to show the lady Vaela the great hall. They speak of all the parties and the feasts that they have had here over the years, and Gaelyra listens to them speak with a smile on her face. She has always liked children, and to have these two welcome her here with open arms helps her to feel calm. She is shown the small hall, the great library, the garden, the training grounds, and the godswood. Each place has a story, and she listens to each story with a smile.

Eventually, Rhaenyra stops in her steps for a moment, looking out to the sky, "Gods, it is far past midday." She says. "Father must be feeling quite impatient by now... I did not realize that much time had passed," she seems concerned now, worried that she may have angered her father by letting so much time pass between her and her aunt-to-be. But her sons were having so much fun, it was easy to let the time pass.

Gaelyra too realizes how much time has passed since she arrived here. She turns her head to look at the princess, "If he is cross, your highness, I will gladly take the blame. I will tell him that I asked for a tour of the castle before I went to meet his royal highness," she says.

Rhaenyra looks at her with a raise of her brow, the corner of her lip quirking upwards in a smile, "You would lie to the king?" She questions.

Gaelyra leans towards Rhaenyra to speak in a hushed voice, "Call it a secret between friends, princess." She jests, giving her a smile and a wink.

Rhaenyra can't help but laugh. She has known Gaelyra for a little over three hours, and she is already quite fond of her. Clearly her sons are fond of the Vaela woman, that much is obvious just by the way they look at her. Then again, Gaelyra has had the attention of the princess ever since Viserys told Rhaenyra about her. A woman warrior who has made her own way in the world without the help of anyone? Gaelyra automatically has the respect of Rhaenyra, and she didn't even have to do try.

Rhaenyra clears her throat and looks ahead, "We should go to the throne room now, I know my father is eager to meet you." She says.

Gaelyra nods, and she gestures down the corridor with a wave of her arm, "After you, your highness." She says.

Rhaenyra gives her a smile and she reaches down, taking her sons hands and leading them down the corridor with Gaelyra trailing behind them. Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon hold on to their mothers hands, both of them speaking rapidly to her about anything the two toddlers can think about.

Time passes and soon, they have arrived at the throne room.

The doors open, and Gaelyra catches bits of a conversation that two men are having with each other;

"Brother stay, please. You should meet your future bride before you go gallivanting around."

"I don't see any reason to-"

And then the doors are pushed open, and the men go silent.

Rhaenyra walks in first with her sons, and Gaelyra follows after. Rhaenyra steps towards the side of the room to give Gaelyra the full attention of the king and the prince, and she stands there with her sons as she watches Gaelyra walk forward.

The iron throne is something that every class of people, common or noble, know of. It's legend is history, it itself is proof that the tale of Aegon the Conquerer is true and not just some kind of fairy tale parents tell their children to get them to sleep. If one has the opportunity to gaze upon the iron throne in their lifetime, they will know it all to be true.

Faced with it now, Gaelyra feels her heart clench with nervousness and her stomach twist into knots. The throne itself is terrifying, forged in fire from the blades of countless defeated enemies past. The throne doesn't even end with the seat, on the floor all around it, ancient swords stick up like pikes from the ground, one wrong move up those stairs, one misstep, and there could be a bloodbath. Perhaps that is a part of the intimidation that comes with gazing upon the throne, one wrong move, one wrong word from your mouth, and the king will have you killed with a wave of his hand.

The walk to the throne feels much longer than it actually is as Gaelyra approaches the king. She sees the king Viserys sitting upon his throne, his eyes watching her closely. Though she realizes that he is not the only one watching her every move.

Gaelyra becomes very aware of another set of eyes on her, eyes that are far more intimidating and piercing than the kings. She glances over and her eyes fall upon another man. He is tall, with long white hair, and purple eyes that could melt steel. He is quite handsome, and she can see that he is strong. The leather attire he wears does not leave much to the imagination, she can see his muscles beneath his shirt, and his intense gaze on her tells her all she needs to know.

This is her betrothed.

She turns her gaze to the king as she stops at the bottom of the steps, a step away from the two guards, and she gives a bow, "Your grace." She greets, keeping her voice calm and smooth despite the nervous feelings in her heart.

Viserys bows his head to her, "Lady Gaelyra. I hope the journey was kind to you."

Gaelyra nods, "Indeed, your grace. I believe the gods have blessed us all with kind weather on this day," she says, lifting her head to look at him.

The king smiles, "It is good to have you here my lady, your presence here has brought much joy to my house."

It is not as if I had a choice. Is what she wants to say, but she bites her tongue, and she gives Viserys a pleasant smile, "You honor me, my king." She says, bowing her head once more.

The kings smile grows, and he turns his gaze towards Daemon, who continues to stare at Gaelyra, "Have you been introduced to my brother, prince Daemon?" He questions her.

Gaelyra shakes her head in answer and she too looks towards Daemon, "I have not," she says, her expression calm, her voice polite.

Daemon glances at his brother with a small glare in his eyes. He was perfectly happy staying out of the conversation, being brought in like this annoys him. Viserys's expression turns hard and he gestures with a tilt of his head towards Gaelyra, silently telling his brother to approach her.

Gaelyra watches the prince closely. She sees in that moment how his jaw clenches and his brows furrow before he turns to look at her. He walks forward and she turns to face him, staring into his eyes despite the fire within his gaze. She pours some of her own fire into her eyes, future husband or not, she will not be intimidated.

He stops in front of her and he stares down into her eyes, like a lion, no, a dragon analyzing its prey. Most would cower away at the gaze of the prince, most would try to escape his scorching eyes as quickly as possible, but Gaelyra holds her ground.

Keep your head held high.

Her father told her this long ago.

Do not let anyone look down upon you. You carry the fire of Vaela in your veins. You are descended from kings and legends. Let no one intimidate you, my daughter.

She stares up at Daemon, and her eyes burn with the fire of her house as she looks into his eyes, holding her head up high.

Neither of them speak, they don't need to. Their eyes say so much to each other.

Kneel to me.

Never.

Daemon tilts his head at her, and he leans back on his heel, looking her up and down. He let's out a quiet scoff before he turns and walks away from her, walking through the open doors and leaving them all in silence.

••••

Night has fallen, Gaelyra is now in her new chambers in the castle. After meeting Daemon, the king apologized for his brothers behavior and he announced that a feast would be held in a week to celebrate the engagement, after that they were all dismissed, and Gaelyra was lead to her chambers by one of the guards. Ser Criston Cole. He was polite and courteous to her the entire way to her quarters, and he wished her a good night before he left her alone to enter.

Her room is beautiful. There is a large bed with silk sheets, a sofa in the corner of the room by the balcony, and a wash room connected to her room by a door. The balcony is her favorite part of her quarters. That is actually where she is now. She leans against the rail, looking down at the city. The air is cool. Especially since she is wearing only a night dress and a thin robe, but she doesn't mind it. It was blistering hot today, the cold night air feels much better compared to the heat of the day. It's nice. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes sliding shut as the night air blows through her hair.

"So he did not say anything to you?!"

Gaelyra opens her eyes and she turns to look at Terra within the chambers, who is busy unpacking. She shakes her head, "No. He just stared at me." She tells her lady-in-waiting.

Terra huffs, "The nerve of him! Forgive me my lady but prince or not, he had no right to behave that way!" She says, folding a tunic with rushed, angry movements.

Gaelyra sighs and walks back into the room, closing the balcony doors behind her. She draws the curtains closed and she looks at Terra, "I suppose he is about as happy about this engagement as I am," she says. She walks to the bed and she sits down, laying back against the soft mattress and letting out a sigh, bringing her hands up to rest them comfortably above her head.

Her eyes stare at the ceiling as Terra speaks from the end of her bed, "Any man would be blessed to have you my lady. I happen to know for a fact that your father rejected many proposals for your hand in the past. Many noble lords desired you. If this engagement does not work out, many others would have you." She assures Gaelyra.

Gaelyra only frowns in response, because she knows Terra is right. Gaelyra has received many marriage offers over the years from many different men. Noble or wealthy, young and old, many have sought her hand. And she rejected them all. Back then, her father actually came to her to discuss these proposals before he sent the inevitable rejection back. They would talk, for hours if need be, about why she should or should not marry this particular man. He'd come to her with the proposal, she'd say no, he'd ask why, she would explain, he would accept it and leave. Like clockwork. It was an accepted part of their lives, they were both happy with it, or at least Gaelyra thought they were.

When Gaelyra thought about her future, she never thought she'd be sentenced to be the wife of a man who can't seek to find the decency in him to speak to her. She always thought that she'd live, fight, and die in the Riverlands. She never would have guessed that her father would stab her in the back like this. She never would have guessed that this would happen.

She sighs and turns to lay on her side, her eyes still staring at the ceiling, "Terra?"

"Yes, my lady?"

"I would like to try and get some sleep now. I have a feeling these next few days are going to be... eventful." She says, removing her robe and pulling the blanket up to cover herself.

Terra nods and bows her head, "Of course, my lady. I shall leave you be now," she says. "I hope you have pleasant dreams tonight." She says.

Gaelyra can hear the quiet click of the door opening, and then she hears the click again as it closes. Her body visibly relaxes once she is finally alone and she sits up, blowing out the lone candle on the night table before she lays back down, curling up beneath the blanket and pulling her knees to her chest.

It is silent in her room for a long time. The only sound that she can hear is the quiet chirping of a cricket outside one of the many windows of her room.

She takes in a deep breath and she let's it out slowly through her nose, closing her eyes and pulling the blanket tighter around her body.

After a while, Gaelyra is pulled into a quiet, dreamless slumber. But just before sleep takes her, she sends a quiet prayer to whoever is listening that something good will come out of this horrid arrangement.

Something, anything will do. Just let there be a little light here.

Taglist: @cheappixel (love ya bestie!)

#house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #daemon x oc #fantasy #daemon targaryen x oc

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maguro13-2 · 5 months ago

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The Dark Beginnings RETOLD ~ Origins of the Ink Demon Pt.10.5 ~

*Somewhere at Popstar*

"MAGMA FLOWS"

*cue Metroid Item Room Theme*

Drawcia : After three years of success I have finally recreated the inhabitants of that universe which was destroyed by the Time Eater, but I never imagined that it would be founded right here at the Magma Flows area. I'll bring this to headquarters for future instructions.

Paintra via Communications : You think so, sis? Hours ago, The Ohkuboverse was destroyed in some sort of way, but it's inhabitants had been isekai'd to the Real World, ma'am.

Drawcia : Isekai, that lame old genre again? How many people have isekai'd to another world? I just recreated their original selves after finding out that the boy who saved the world didn't saved, he let it destroyed to be killed as the very first of it's witnesses.

Paintra via Communications : Witnesses, sis?

Drawcia : Let's all sink that in for further details, but follow their progress closely. We have finally completed the resurrection of the pillar, eight sacrifices that were keys to open the door to darkness used by the entity named Demon Vibe. We created the copies of the Pillars, but there are only five of them. The Five of the Eight Pillars of the Eight Pure Hearts were getting a close reaction on whether are dead or alive, they'll be fully awaken by the time we would perfect them. Remember, they are copies that I created from the powers of my magical paintbrush, an artifact that was used by the family for generations.

Paintra via Communications : "Magical Paintbrush"?

Drawcia : Sumimasen. I'm returning to headquarters, I'll be there shortly in a moment.

Paintra via Communications : Affirmative, sis. Please get home safely.

[Dark Moon by Michiru Yamane]

Drawcia : Damn that Time Eater. It has been 1000 years for him since he destroyed the Ohkuboverse after scolding them to become the very first of it's "witnesses". All the religion, all the craziness, and all the stubborness they had within each of the stories , and now, with those who have been resurrected to become what they truly are again, I will make sure that the real world would never be in vain. I must do what I must do and make sacrifices that are needed to be done. Thanks to my intelligence and knowledge with the research data I gathered, things like make believes will be reborn. Justice to the heartless will be served. Time to pass the time while the final preparations are all completed.

"DRAWCIA THE SORCERESS...HEAD OF DRAWCIA FAMILY"

Drawcia : *snickers*

*scene changes*

*Bubbling*

Paintra : Sis, you made it back. Did you get the data of the First Pillar and the Pure heart itself?

[Misgiving by Seirou Okamoto]

Drawcia : Affirmative. I have the data right here. So these are one of the eight pillars, but there's only five of them that has been resurrected, I forgot about the eight pillars. Five plus three equals eight, that makes five women and three men makes up the eight pillars that will lead to the door to darkness, but Demon Vibe's plan was foiled by this and was imprison within in a dimension where he could never be forgiven.

Paintra : So that's why the cult in Shinra's wanted a new era, they weren't going to find a new era for humanity, they wanted everyone to be drown into darkness. So it turns out the white clad were just a facade by orchestrated by Demon Vibe to lure Shinra out of commission, but then thanks to the help of Angel Vibe, he was finally banished in the dimension for good.

Drawcia : Well, you are certainly a genius, dear sister. This is our latest journey to recreate those who wanted to put Demon Vibe out of commission, so in order to do so, I guarantee you that everyone in the universe would be a very complicated settlement, all the stories, all the craziness, and all of the weirdness that this boy called Shinra has brought everything from all the multiverse's into one hope that he gathered to create his ever lasting legacy, the legacy that he created to bring hope, but all of that hope lasted when the Time Eater and came to scolded him...to be the very first of it's witnesses.

Paintra : So who was responsible for annihilating Shinra and the so-called Ohkuboverse.

Drawcia : According to my analysis, the ones responsible for destroy the Ohkuboverse was the Time-Traveling entity the Time Eater and it's so-called human relative Homura Akemi.

Paintra : Homura, we heard that name before. She's the one who is going to create the new era for all of Real World AU. So what happened to everyone in the Ohkuboverse after the Time Destroyed it?

Drawcia : They all died by the hands of the creature's power same goes to the girl.

Paintra : So they all died, and how did existed in the Real World?

Drawcia : We create copies of them, based on our research, I found away that we can recreate the inhabitants of the Ohkuboverse that died when it was destroyed by the Time Eater's erasing powers. To make way for the New Era on Real World AU. But what's left from the Ohkuboverse was the legacy that Shinra created before even resurrected with the powers of the Seven Emeralds.

Paintra : No way...the Seven Emeralds. That's preposterous! Even if they risked your lives as heroes, what do they want to agree while the Real World must be kept safe. Despite this knowledge, He even found a person that he could ever meet, his successor that is the key to his future.

*Maka's face is shown on the mainframe*

[Messages by Michiru Yamane]

Drawcia : I see. This is the opportunity for a head start, this girl would be the key to his future, a pair of two heroes that are destined to meet them from the past and into the future. They are linked to another they are heroes whose responsibilities that could really shape the future of this world. But rest assure of you, that this Maka Albarn that was born on the moon, was actually a copy of the original that Imprisoned her as the queen to the demons of darkness 70 years ago. But now that she has returned to the light, to seek the copy with the help of her loyal servants once respected with dignity and her consort is a demon gaining the power of darkness to control the night our selves. We would be demanding the ways that our Para Sorceress Force would handle the situation as peacekeeping forces. But there is another organization that had a connection with the peacekeeping forces.

Paintra : Who are the other peacekeeping forces. Is it the DWMA?

Drawcia : Negative, it's this organization of masked beings called Phantoms that have a linkage with any femae beings on the planet, but had some connections with Majo Detective Force. Unlike Clear Heart Force and other kind of peacekeeping forces, World Heroes Force had remain silent since the Space Colony ARK incident.

Paintra : But who was commanding World Heroes Forces anyway?

Drawcia : Shinra Kusakabe, the first hero and creator of the world and Story of Soul Eater. This organization was the last of his legacy to make DWMA it's spiritual successor, but on what costs of what?

Paintra : Well, I'm sure his comrades and everyone who that he known and cherished got some few minor setbacks, but his people will hardly recognize if he holds grudges to know about humans as keys.

Drawcia : His people? That's impossible, his people and his comrades were killed by the Time Eater over a 1000 years ago.

*BEEPING*

Computer : Master Drawcia. I have completed the resurrection of the Ohkuboverse's first inhabitants. But my readings states that the area from the Egg Carrier has dectected a level 4 heartless contanimation that has spread into the California/Nevada Zone.

Drawcia : Casulties in the states? Report.

Computer : Over 80 percent of the DWMA staff has been infected by the Darkness itself. The survival rate from them is less then 2% allowing our forces to succeed in driving the enemy intrusion.

Drawcia : Huh. It is such a shame that Shinra's man-made son would be the last of his doing for making humans protect the legacy he has left from his universe. Since their universe was erased as well, I wonder how long does the DWMA have to suffer a lot before it could go out of it's reach as the problematice peacekeeping forces? But we don't have a choice to make any sacrifices to be made. I got my eye on this one.

[Echo Night - Beyond OST : Track 14]

Drawcia : Proceed with the Pillars' resurrection and get them on hold, we need them to complete our research before Homura Akemi creates the New Era for the real world.

Computer : Proceeding with the Pillars' resurrection activation program scheduled. Two identified threats heading towards the west coast from the eastern seaboard of the Japanese Coast.

Drawcia : What pulsating ideas from them have to prove that the DWMA can be a peacekeeping forces when it comes to faces of true evil itself. Did they think that they have the opportunity to destroy the boy's legacy and the safety of Witchkind? I'll be enjoying this watching the DWMA meet it's last. There won't be another organization from them, not in a million years. *snickers evilly*

*Meanwhile at San Francisco*

Ansem via Phone : Here's what you do for me, Scorpion. I know you can hear my voice, you're one of the sisters of a witch trio who were jeered for their crimes against others. Your goal is to search the other two heartless, Jorogumo and Snake Witch's.

Erazor via Phone : And whatever you do, do not anything ridiculous in the country. You are born from Darkness and you are opposing yourself a witch thinking that you are the Majo Order's member. Am I making myself clear for that, missy?

Shaula Gorgon : Well, what are you telling me about it? Maba has nothing to tell me about it, I don't get any involvements with her.

Erazor via Phone : What I'm telling you is that you will beginning your assignment, I dedicated that you are captain of Squad Scorpion, your squad was useless when I see you licking another person's face. But if I see you doing it again, I'll have that tongue of yours cut off yours with soap. Don't you think that you will be having your treats within the next 24 hours and I mean it now. ASAP.

Shaula Gorgon : Yeah, Yeah, whatever. I got it. I can do it without any humans to lick on even if it costs us the country. So whatever Maba's doing well or not, I will give the meanings of sisters to give the legacy a good farewell.

Ansem via Phone : But remember. Make sure to keep an eye on the Keyblade wielder that did this to me, he'll regret on making doing so after the light foiled me from existence. That boy will make sure he will find that kid when he comes to the real world just to see the girl to make her the best hero there is.

Shaula Gorgon : Like the one who destroyed Japan's population?

Ansem via Phone : Correction. You will do necessarily and needed to make all the sacrifices you want to. And remember, do not fail me this time. This will exactly be the part of my revenge.

Shaula Gorgon : Okay...got it.

*hangs phone*

Shaula Gorgon : Well now...I hope I wouldn't be too much in the city to have this delightful reasoning. So this is where the girl lives. It's time to find the ones that are the keys to the future. And to make things possible for any means necessarily, I will must seek destruction on the boy who saved the world 1000 years before us. I must find the ones that are in the real world. And then we will destroy this planet. But if it costs us the planet and the galaxy, darkness is truly the everlasting power for our lust to fueld. I will make humanity watch their last.

*LIGHTS TURNED ON*

[Shadow Android by Jun Senoue]

Egg Pawn via radio : This is Headquarters to mobile units. headquarters to mobile units!

Delta Team Member : This is Delta Team, Delta Team to HQ. we have you on radar. We confirmed the target in close range. Beyond the lookout for Shaula Gorgon, one of the trio that are wanted for the crimes against others and the renegade against witchkind. She is leading a group of terrorists that are attempting to overthrow the Kusakabe legacy.

Egg Pawn via Radio : Good to hear, men. Orders are to capture her Dead or alive is ours.

Shaula Gorgon : I didn't expected that those tin-can would holding out their toys at me, would they? I better play nice with them, but to make sure of it, get out of my way!

Delta Team Member 1 : Halt! Don't you dare move!

Delta Team Member 2 : We have you surrounded!

Delta Team Member 3 : Surrender to yourself to Justice!

Shaula Gorgon : Make me!

Delta Team Leader : Alright, men. Stay in your positions. Lock on target.

*Gun cocks+Gunpoint at Shaula*

Delta Team Leader : Ready...Aim...FIRE!

*Gunfire rapidly*

Delta Team Leader : Cease Fire, men!

Delta Team Member 3 : Did we get her? Has the target been deceased?

Delta Team Leader : ....I think the target's deceased. San Fran to Headquarters, San Fran to Headquarters. This is Delta. we have eliminated the Target. We

Egg Pawn via Radio : Excellent. How are far are you away to the Gateway to PSO.

Delta Team Leader : Well...About 10 mintues to...

*Shaula gets up and regenerates*

[S.E.E.D by Kenichi Tokoi & Masamichi Amano]

Delta Team Leader : W-What the--?! Th...This witch! She regenerated herself! What sorcerey is this!? Come into HQ! Come ino HQ! This is Delta! The enemy is somehow stronger! Requesting backup Immediately!

Ansem : Enough children's toys! I shall dispose to all of you!

Delta Team Leader : HQ! Do you copy!? HQ! Can anyone hear me!? This witch named Shaula isn't a witch, she's really...

Ansem : Begone!

*summons an army of Heartless*

Delta Team Leader : Alpha! Bravo! Charlie! Can anyone respond!? Open Fire! Open fire!

*They pull out some tools*

Heartless : It's hammer time!

*scene cuts to Egg Pawn*

Egg Pawn : Delta! Delta what happened!? Respond!

Delta Team Leader via Radio : *screams in agony* THEY'RE DESTROYING US! THEY'RE DESTROYING US WITH TOOLS AND IT HURTS! OH GOD! THE HEARTLESS ARE EVERYWHERE!

Egg Pawn : Delta! Respond! RESPOND! Dr.Eggman, sir! We lost Delta! The Heartless and this witch that arrived is not really a witch at all, she's something else!

Dr.Eggman as client : Ngh! Stupid shadowy creatures! THEIR MANNERS ARE AS BAD AS EVER! I AM AT MY LIMIT, I HAVE NO CHOICE! Alert all in coming Mech Battle sections. I'm using full tactical use of vessels. Prepare to mobilize the mech unit Egg Emperor.

Egg Pawn : But Eggman, sir! The Emeperor's all prepared, but I don't think it's ready for combat, it just needs more a little testing.

Dr.Eggman as client : It's ready when I say it is and I mean it! Now you do it and to make sure that we're still in hot pursuit with Metal Sonic's renegade. I'm making the Chaotix completing every missions to free me. I hope we gathered the seven chaos emeralds from the Special Stages. But I am giving Grim a taste of how the shadows feels.

Egg Pawn : Yes sir! I'll get the mech ready right away!

*starts running*

*scene cuts*

Egg Pawn : Men! We need to release Egg Emepror before we...Huh? Metal Sonic! What are you doing! We need to that to save the city! Lives were at stake!!

Neo Metal Sonic : Or else what, slave? The "heroes" are too busy being heroes to stop me and are interfering with my plans. Those imbeciles are to easy to be distracted by the decoys.

Egg Pawn : But isn't the Chaotix knew that the Real Eggman is on their way to have a rematch.

Neo Metal Sonic : What!? The Chaotix are involved in this too? Not those idiots again! They're going to expose my plans of my life long dream of being the ultimate overlord and overthrow my jealousy too that Black Hedgehog! I just wanted to be the villain of my dream, so I could start a renegade! I have to do it to destroy my ownly enemies, who wanted stop this renegade before the Black Arms Arrive.

*Disguises himself as Eggman*

Dr. Eggman (Neo Metal Sonic) : And if even if it costs them the planet as much, They'll won't make mincemeat out of me, I'll make mincemeat out of them.

*enters the Egg Emperor*

"ULTIMATE WEAPON : EGG EMPEROR"

Dr. Eggman (Neo Metal Sonic : Hasta la bye bye, suckers!

*DBZ SFX : Blasting off+boosting*

Egg Pawn : Metal Sonic!

*Scene changes to Ansem*

Ansem : Well...Now that's the last of their toys. What does the famous Grim Reaper had offer us in store? Heartless, now's the time to find the girl. Search her and do not let any of those machine get near you.

Shaula Gorgon : Okay, ma! I understand now.

*cuts to Sora from the rooftop*

Sora : *with binoculars* What's going on here? It feels like that this town is being turned into a war zone. Hey, that witch...She looks familiar.

Donald : That can't be good. A witch? How come you never seen a witch before?

Goofy : Sora, this isn't the time for halloween. Whatever that witch is gonna do to those people we mustn't let her reach to Nevada! We gotta stop her and save the town, before San Francisco is San Donecisco!

Sora : I'm always on the case. Hey, isn't that...?

*DBZ SFX : Surprise*

Sora : No way! Ansem? What's he's doing here in the city, and why did he comeback? I can feel that presence coming from that witch.

Goofy : What do you think this means, Sora? You feel a presence?

Sora : I just recognized that witch leading to those heartless is not a witch, but it's a heartless copy sented by someone else! I better stop that monster before it's too late! Guys! I'm going to put an end to Ansem's schemes once and for all!

*scene cuts to Inky Albarn at Golden Gate Bridge*

[I know Professor by Jun Senoue]

Inky Albarn : This is where Maka lives...San Francisco.

Bendy's Voice : Maka, please. I am counting you to save this family.

Inky Albarn : I know dear. I'll be back to honor your presence soon as possible, once I complete my task and return to Brooklyn. I must take control of the night and fulfill my destiny. Now my son let us show what this world can do for us.

Inky Jr : I understand clearly. Time to paint this entire town red.

*The demon releases it's bat-like wings*

Inky Jr : Let's see when things fly through the night.

Inky Albarn : Agree.

*Both of them flies off towards the city*

~ Special Event : A Revolution To the End ~

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snacksizedgates · 3 years ago

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El "Jane" Hopper — Independence, Selflessness and Male Trauma, A Character Analysis

Hello again. As you may know, I typically post Byler analyses and I also posted that I was working on a Mike Wheeler post but along the way of rewatching and rewatching, it became clear to me that El is the character that truly needs to be understood here, not just in regards to everything I have said in my posts, but in regards to her entire place in the show and who she represents. She is such an important character and I'm so excited to analyze her!

**So to my Byler readers: READ THIS ONE! I know you may only be interested in anything that "proves" Byler but I promise you that reading this will give you a clearer understanding of how El is the central character in this love triangle and how she's the one who holds the power in it, not Mike or Will. It's very purposeful that they made Mike her love interest.**

But without further ado, El Hopper:

I think El is such an important character on the show because her arc represents the trauma a lot of women deal with at the hands of men. And I don't want to make this post about men, this is not my intention, I want to make that very very clear, but I think for many women world wide our lives are heavily impacted by how men treat us, intentionally or unintentionally. So I think it's so important this story was told and El is an amazing character to tell it through because she is the embodiment of being independent her entire life. Also, please note that I love all the women on the show and they contribute to this theme in all types of ways as well, but this post is simply about El!

Independence And Intelligence, The Basis of Her Character

From the very beginning we know El is extraordinarily independent and strong; this is something that can never be misinterpreted because physically she's capable of a lot more than most and what sets her apart from 95% of the rest of the women on the show. But she's also emotionally and intellectually strong as well; she not only is able to endure many years of captivity and brainwash, she's able to free herself from that captivity at the mere of age of 11? 12? She's not as naïve as the some would like you to believe; when the boys find her, they suggest telling their parents, which is obviously reasonable. But El knows better, even if she doesn't know "They're going to take me to CPS" she knows telling an adult will lead to her getting taken back to the bad men. She's keen. She also points Will out of the pictures, indicating she has a big heart and would be willing to help them find Will, even though she doesn't have to even clue them in on any of it. Obviously narratively it helps the story along but it also indicates that she's a good person with empathy; she's emotionally intelligent even though she has not been lent the same empathy in most of her life. Not only is she able to care for herself but she saves the characters each season; In season one, she kills the demogorgan, in season two she closes the gate, in season three she fights til she can no longer fight and in season four she banishes Vecna. This proves that El isn't just the most independent character in the series, she's also the most selfless, constantly pushing herself to her limits in order to save the rest.

People would also like you to believe that she was/is completely unaware of social cues and norms. Which yes, there is definitely a lot she didn't pick up on because of her environment, but she's not completely unaware. In the first season she looks at the picture of Nancy and calls her "pretty", meaning she's knows what girls typically look like in society and may or may not want to look that way too. When she steals eggos, she knows she has to use her powers to get away because she has no money and she looks like a lost child. In season three, she doesn't automatically believe what Mike says about nana - she goes to Max because she knows something is off, even without a lot of social interactions and examples. All of this shows that she's a very perceptive character and understands other people a lot more than you think she does when you first watch it. The fact that she can go and find people in her mind also represents that she's very perceptive to others even if the main story line would like you to think otherwise. She's also very smart and finds other creative ways to describe what she wants to say. Despite knowing nothing about DnD yet she's able to use the game pieces and board to convey where Will is. She has survival skills. At Benny's she gets out of there as quickly as she can. Before that, she only tells him as little as possible in order to get food. She understands what he's saying and could answer "yes" or "no" but didn't. Most children would if they had been lost in the woods and homeless. Furthermore, she survives in the woods for presumably at least a little while, while it's freezing out. She finds food and warmth. She doesn't need someone else to come and save her, even though Hopper does. Further along in S2 she goes off entirely on her own in the Lost Sister episodes and is confident that she can survive out there by herself; she knows to some degree how independent she is. In season three, when Jonathan is trying to remove the creature from her leg, she tells him to stop and does it herself - she is completely capable on her own and knows how to survive without anyone else and there are plenty of examples of it throughout the show.

So now we have established that El is the most independent character on the show. But what we haven't talked about is if El views herself that way - which she doesn't. Of course to some degree she knows she is because of her powers and is seen by the risks that she takes but she still has codependency issues because of Papa, which is what we will see her come out of in S5.

Male Trauma

El ends up having three main males in her life: Brenner, Hopper and Mike. Now at first glance they all seem like completely different characters, and they are, yet they hold similairities when it comes to El's life and expericences with them. Now hear me out because I know that may sound insane. Hopper and Brenner? Alike? Mike like either of them?

However, there are clear and distinct parallels between them. Hopper and Mike actually truly care for El and that's why it makes the dynamics difficult for not only El but also us; it's harder to see.

So we know Brenner keeps El locked up her entire childhood. He's not outwardly sadistic towards her majority of the time though. He has a gentle voice, he pretends he's helping her with her powers rather than reducing her to a lab experiment, he convinces her that he protects her, calls her daughter and refers to himself as her Papa, etc. We as an audience can see how sadistic his behavior is but El herself doesn't fully understand until years of abuse and even after she escapes she still struggles with it, because it's all she knows until the of 12. That's a long time to go in an atypical abusive environment. Because she doesn't fully understand him being a bad person she has conflicting feelings for him. Her relationship with Brenner sets the tone for all of her relationships with other men; confusing poor treatment with love, fearing they don't love her for her but for her powers, fearing they're scared of her for her powers, fearing they're not telling the truth, etc.

Hopper, on the other hand, clearly cares for her, and we as the audience know it. El knows it. We know he keeps her inside to protect her, and in the beginning El understands this too. Even as season two progresses she on some level understands it's for her protection. But at the same time she is still a child and has been locked inside a house for a year now. This clearly resembles her previous situation, at least to her. She's heard lies from Brenner before, contradictions; and now it feels like she's hearing them from Hopper too. That he's the one keeping her locked away this time. She knows it's obviously different but to her, to this child who's emotions are only just beginning to develop into her own, it's confusing and on top of that she doesn't want to be locked away anymore. She even compares Hopper directly to Papa, indicating she definitely does have a difficult time fully understanding the difference in their behavior. Another parallel that is formed between Brenner and Hopper is when Hopper says "I protect, I feed, I teach" which is essentially exactly what Brenner did/claimed to do and what El perceives Brenner's actions as. Furthermore, once the tensions get to a point and Hopper and El begin to fight, El begins using her powers to express her anger. Hopper exclaims "What the hell is wrong with you?!" which can parallel what we figure out Brenner says to her in S4; "What did you do?" indicating she used her powers for bad and it makes her a bad person. What other character also says this to her? Mike, after she's hit Angela, this time not even using her powers, just reinforcing to her headspace that she's a bad person, this time with or without powers. This line/theme that is said to El throughout the show also reinforces the fear that the people, specifically the males, in her life are afraid of her because of her powers. Not only that but Hopper, in their fight, exclaims he can send her back to the lab, indicating to her (remember, a child) that as soon as she becomes difficult, she's to be given up on. I love Hopper and he's only saying it in the heat of the moment but he's also talking to a child who interprets, internalizes and connects things differently than an adult does. It's similar to her relationship with Mike, especially in S4; once she has no powers, she feels as though she's recognized a distance in Mike (still not being able to say ily) and that he doesn't love her anymore. She's become too difficult or useless (no powers) so now she's to be given up on (Mike doesn't love her anymore.) This is also why she doesn't tell him about the bullying even knowing he has been bullied and Will already knows; because again, she's become too difficult (Can't defend herself from bullies), and will be given up on (Mike will see me as weak and leave me.) Mike's behavior only strengthens this thought in her mind. It also goes back to her being the most independent and selfless character even if she doesn't realize it; she doesn't want or need Mike to defend her. She doesn't want to be seen as weak, especially by the men in her life, because she perceives her powers as why they love or care for her (Brenner, Mike) or why they took her in (Hopper, Mike).

Both Hopper and Brenner "lock" her away, creating a distinct parallel between them, even if they had completely different intentions. But how do we create this parallel with the last main male in her life, Mike? Well I'm sure a lot of you are aware of the subtext in the scene where Mike puts El in the closet in S1. If you're not, basically he hides her in his closet and the he has a very coming out coded conversation with his mom and many people think this points to him being gay, myself included.

However I feel as though no one has taken a look at the scene in the context of El and what that means for her character. This is yet again another instance where a man locks her away, in reality or metaphorically. In the scene El looks scared and frightened, which narratively reflects the trauma she has from being locked in cells by Brenner, creating a distinct parallel between Mike and Brenner. Obviously we know Mike and Brenner are nothing alike and Mike didn't mean to traumatize her by locking her in there, but it's very symbolic. Essentially, it foreshadows how El is going to feel in their future relationship; locked away inside Mike's secret closet, completely in the dark about what their relationship even is. And Mike, in the subsequent seasons, is totally unaware of this up until a certain point which reflects in how he comes back upstairs and is surprised to find her crying when he finally opens the door. He shouldn't be surprised though;. he already knows she doesn't like to be in closed small rooms because she told him the day before. You could make the argument that he forgot, but it's a script so it's important. He also says something along the lines of "you have to" or "it'll be quick"; can't remember the exact line but something conveying that he knows she doesn't want to go in there but she has to for his sake. Brenner did everything he did to El for his personal gain, not El's. We're not supposed to see the connection in real-time, only in retrospect.

So basically the men in El's life have all treated her similar regardless of their very contrasting personalities. By the time we get to season 4, this shows her that men will hurt her, intentionally or not, no matter how different or better they seem than the last one or the others in her life. The fact that the connections begin in the very first few episodes shows that this is a huge part of her characterization and heavily flows in each and everyone of her seasonal arcs.

In season four, we finally see her starting to let go of Mike, even though she began the season obsessed and heavily emotionally reliant on him. And although I'm sure Hopper and El will always be close, he's right behind her in the last shot, while she's descending downwards on her own, with Mike, Will and Joyce also behind her. This suggest she's not only moving on from Mike, but gaining even more independence from men and her family (Hopper, Joyce, Will). Remember, even though we as the audience know El is incredibly independent in all kinds of ways as I've explained, she has not necessarily understood that throughout all of the seasons, at least not entirely. That's why she clings so closely to Mike or Hopper and why she had trouble letting go of Papa until the very end of S4. It's obviously very reasonable that she would; Mike is her boyfriend and the first person to take her in, Hopper is her true father figure and in S4 she thinks he died, creating even more trauma and codependent issues to arise, and Papa was her very first father figure. But next season, we are going to see an El Hopper who does not need anyone and knows it.

How This Reflects In S4 and Sets Up S5

This brings us to S4, which sets up the precedent for El's final arc in S5.

In S4, we meet El where she has lost the most important male figure she's ever had; Hopper, while simultaneously being separated from the only other main male in her life who has treated her nicely, Mike. She's finally by herself, AND without powers, which gives her the time to finally understand her true self.

When she's being bullied and can't defend herself because of her loss of powers, it reflects how El thinks of herself without powers. That she's weak and can't defend herself. We see that because of her past, she has put her self worth into being a super powered person. Again, pointing to why she doesn't tell Mike. She's embarrassed and doesn't want Mike to see her as worthless now that she can't even defend herself; after SHE used to defend THEM from bullies. Of course this has to affect her self esteem deeply. She's never really been without powers, so at this point she's connected that to not just her entire persona but her value as a person. She thinks it's the sole reason other people are attracted to her, or want to help her.

This is why Mike not being able to say I love you and separate her powers from her as a person is so important to El's arc. While yes it says a lot about how Mike feels, it also says a lot about how El has felt this entire time.

Having her own boyfriend, the person who is supposed to love her no matter what, only see her as the one thing she's been told her entire life is what gives her value, hurts her deeply, especially now that that "value" has been taken away. It hurts her more than people are willing to admit. This is the one person she wants to love her for more than the surface, and he can't.

And she confronts the topic when she has no powers and says "so you don't love me anymore?" indicating that she used to view him as someone who loved her for more than her powers, even though he's never told her that verbally. Now that she doesn't have her powers and he is very obviously not saying I love you (for his own reasons), it reinforces her idea that her powers hold her value. And that's why she goes and gets them back; not because she truly wants them. I'm sure she misses them and wish she had them in certain situations like Angela, but if she had never been offered a solution or a problem (Mike wants me to have powers, my friends in Hawkins are in danger) she wouldn't have tried to find one just to get her powers back. Note that her reasons only strengthen her selflessness. Throughout the entire show she has been incredibly selfless and the journey she goes in in S4 is meant to show how in S5, she's for once going to be thinking about herself (not just being independent but knowing you are.)

This is the catalyst for El finding her true self; and it's only metaphorical that she has to look deep inside her memories for what truly happened, which on the surface seems like it's strictly related to the main plot line with Vecna or getting her powers back. However, it's extremely important for El's character development. She's going back into her mind to understand that she is not the monster, even though that is what she's been intentionally or unintentionally told her entire life, even just a few days ago by her boyfriend. This whole time this is what she has believed and for the first time she's processing her trauma and realizing the truth, that she's so much more than her powers - she's a good person (when she banished One to the Upside Down for the children he murdered). I think the idea that she struggles with knowing she is a good person because of the male treatment she's been subjected to, is further supported by her solo episode, The Lost Sister. Her sister is practically the only one throughout the show who truly shows her the value of her powers and how her powers don't make her bad, they make her strong.

The shaving of her head is also very symbolic of her journey from being independent but not feeling that way into someone who knows how strong she is. For viewers it seemed very traumatic and wrong that they did this, which I definitely agree with narratively. But it's trying to convey that El is going through a rebirth - she's cutting out all of the old and starting fresh again. Cutting the hair off is typically symbolic of this. It also shows that it wasn't her choice but she's going to have to embrace it anyway. It wasn't her choice but it's time she grows out of this cycle she's been in with others, especially men, in her life. And it's only more ironic that presumably men are the one's who cut her hair - they are forcing her to let them go. Mike's behavior is causing El to realize her self worth. Hopper's death is forcing her to confront the reality that she doesn't truly need him and never did, though she may love him deeply. Brenner being the person behind this maximizes the theme to the fullest, because he's where all of her trauma stems from, and we know she is finally able to let him go this season. She's worked through her trauma and is realizing her own independence, how strong she is.

This theme is further emphasized at the very end when she is the only one to descend into the rotting flowers, just coincidentally the same ones Mike, a male in her life, picked for her. The old is rotting away for her, her old self is disintegrating and her new self will rise. Furthermore, she's also wearing all white, which can represent many things like innocence (I wasn't the monster this whole time) and rebirth (now that I know I'm truly good what will I do with that?)

We're going to see a huge, probably amazing, shift in El's character in S4 from feeling dependent to knowing her independence. She isn't going to be paired with anyone and she's going to be a huge character because she'll most likely be more powerful than ever now that she understands herself and how her powers do not give her value. I'm not sure how this will reflect narratively but get ready for an even more bad ass Eleven for the finale season! I'm so excited for her to break away from everything she thinks she needs and grow into her own!!!

#El Hopper #el jane hopper #eleven #stranger things #el hopper character analysis #hopper #brenner #mileven #mike wheeler #byler #stranger things 4 #stranger things 5 #stranger things analysis

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pastelcryptid · 2 years ago

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something that I’ve personally not seen other people talk about exactly before re: Nope (despite talking in general about neurodivergency in the characters, some offhand jokes about being gender non-conforming) is that

as someone who loves a lot of action movies, save-the-world movies I am very aware on some level when I watch those films (I mean, movies in general are like this but especially those genres) that they are taken up by (white, cis, straight) men. And as much as I might love those movies and the characters and the tropes, there is a fatigue that comes with experiencing such a high percentage of films where the cast is dominated by men. Sometimes there might be only one woman in the main cast, and you’re lucky if she’s treated well (this is obviously improving slowly), to say nothing of NB people. However, I noticed at some point that, huh, Nope is still a majority male cast. Yet I don’t feel that fatigue when I watch the movie. Why?

Of what I consider to be the key players, four are men - OJ, Angel, Jupe/Ricky and Antlers. Even with Otis Sr., who has about 3 minutes of screen time, he is a figure that looms large over the story. He established the ranch, its reputation (that in itself inspired by his great-great grandfather).

Apart from Emerald (appropriately named as she is a fucking gem) there are only a few female speaking parts in the film and they get a handful of lines. I would say that the most important women in the film aside from Em, in terms of how they fit into the themes of the movie, are Amber Park and Mary Jo Elliott. Amber has doesn’t have a huge part, and then she dies horribly. You could say Mary Jo also doesn’t have many lines but actually, when I was writing this I realised... Mary Jo doesn’t have any. The only time we hear her speak is when she’s saying Haley’s lines, the rest is barely intelligible begging as she’s brutalised. Adult Mary Jo never says a word, and then she also dies horribly. She never gets to speak for herself, Jupe takes all the attention, and she is consumed. This obviously fits into the whole thing, and I feel like you could write a tonne about Mary Jo alone, but this isn’t what I came to talk about exactly.

so, if it’s so male-heavy, why does it almost not feel that way? I think one of the most interesting things about this film, and something I love about it, is that it has such varied, interesting portrayals of masculinity. Even in their mildly problematic to incredibly reprehensible moments, the men in this movie do not feel like cookie cutter sticks of bravado. The same ones we have been exposed to decade after decade, especially in Westerns.

firstly, you have OJ. I’m not saying anything new in talking about the fact that he is very spectrum-coded. He dislikes eye contact, finds it hard to pick up on social cues, he comes across as awkward or blunt to those who don’t know him well, likes his routine, and prefers to spend his time alone, working with the horses. He’s also speaks very little, in fact as a side bar, I would say Daniel Kaluuya has made quiet characters into an art form. He has played many roles that are not loud, or overly talkative, and yet they all feel incredibly distinct from one another.

I also find it important to note that another very good post by tumblr user @soupbi pointed out that, while I consider the autistic tones to OJ’s personality to be undeniable, there is a history of Black men having to avoid eye contact with white people in order to protect themselves from racist abuse/murder. I’d say this definitely factors in during the commercial shoot, particularly given Bonnie’s reaction to his name and everyone’s general rudeness to him that can’t be handwaved as general “well everyone in LA is rude af”. OJ’s Blackness is also relevant because his presence is not just another example of white masculinity and heroism. OJ is a hero, but he is allowed to be one not in spite of his lack of - for a better term - conformity, but because of it. His family’s place in film history is intertwined with Black history. His knowledge, his care, his skill, his love, his reluctance to Look, are all things that help to figure out how to deal with Jean Jacket, and keep his sister safe. And despite his difficulty relating to others, he accepts Angel pretty easily despite the fact that Angel has incredibly contrasting traits.

So then you have Angel. Again, not another white dude. I think if he had been played by one, he would’ve been danger of coming off a bit creepy/incel. Angel does have some tendencies that are more in line with what you might expect from a typical tech/conspiracy guy in these movies - griping about his ex-girlfriend in the beginning, referencing the whole “probes up our asses” obsession that so many people seem to have with UFOs (that I have always felt comes from a similar place of fear to prison rape jokes because... why is that such a common thread in invasion stories/theories?), and apparently he mines cryptocurrency based on something he has in his apartment?? I don’t know shit about mining crypto and I don’t want to, but anyway.

All this to say, when you get down to it Angel is a socially awkward guy with a lot of fear played with incredible depth by Brandon Perea (we all know how much the movie got edited to accommodate his revamped character). A lot of scenes in the movie involve him being visibly and verbally scared. Incidentally, maybe the line of his I find most charming is when he goes off about forgetting to do the feed for Antlers’ camera because he was busy rigging the sky dancers and then says “Sorry. I’m scared.” Taking responsibility for his outburst, admitting his fear. And while he isn’t exactly avoiding attention, he is one of the characters that seems most disparaging of fame. Most explicitly in the dinner scene near the end where he essentially says, “we’re doing this for more than just fame, right? We’re doing it to help people?” He is also visibly more disturbed by Antlers death than him potentially sabotaging their efforts to film. He takes OJ and Em in very easily despite his tinyass apartment. He’s an emotional, fearful guy. But he’s also allowed to be smart, loyal, and ultimately indispensable.

So then you have Jupe. I’ve seen it stated that Jesse Plemons was actually Jordan’s first choice for this role, but had scheduling conflicts. I don’t know at what point in the negotiations it was established he couldn’t participate, but I feel as though this makes a lot of sense when you look at the way Jupe is written and his background. If only because Jordan addresses the role that race plays in all his movies, and yet I feel as though Jupe’s identity as a Korean-American is not addressed as heavily as you’d expect - especially in a story that’s about fame, conformity, fetishisation and the consumption of other people’s trauma and personal lives. There are references, obviously, but it makes a lot of sense if you imagine it was written for a white man.

That being said, I think this works very well in a way that may not have been 100% intentional. For starters, Ricky isn’t even known by his name, he’s goes by the name of his most famous character in an attempt to hold onto the fame he achieved through Kid Sheriff. We know very little about Ricky Park as a person, and it seems as though there is a black hole between Gordy’s Home and Jupiter’s Claim. I’m kind of reminded of Ke Huy Quan and how after Indiana Jones and The Goonies he spent decades largely off-camera (and at one time used a different name because of racism) until Crazy Rich Asians inspired him to return to acting, as he didn’t think there was place for him (I recommend listening to his episode on the podcast Feeling Seen).

When you take into account Jupe’s presence on the sitcom, I know there are American shows like Diff’rent Strokes and Webster which involved white families adopting Black children and that was a key element of the show (I’m English and I’ve never seen those shows come up on British channels let alone watched them, but I looked them both up on Youtube and I noticed the living room in Webster looks very similar to the one in Gordy’s Home). So you have the complexities of that at play. I don’t know enough about this and I don’t think it’s my place to really go into it, but suffice to say you have that as a complex element in Ricky’s background. He’s mostly known for token roles and he’s had to play up to them to stay relevant. A once famous dude having unresolved trauma and a desire for - or need for recognition through - the spotlight which eventually costs him and/or others is not new.

But I think there’s something very different about the way Steven Yeun manifests that, and manages to keep it grounded and even charming. In at least fan reaction to Ricky, it’s a pretty consistent response that we are disgusted by the way he treats the Haywoods and gets everyone at the Star Lasso Experience (including his wife and children) killed and yet we are also fascinated and even endeared to him. He’s not the guy punching holes in the wall, or refusing to open up to his wife, or going around stabbing people to death. He’s an Icarus, and we see his vulnerability. We were under the dinner table with him, we were there when he was alone with his wife, and we were with him as he stared into Jean Jacket and knew he was about to die. This isn’t meant to be a defense of his actions, obviously, just an observation about how he is presented as a man, especially one who literally cosplays as a cowboy (while he feeds the horses of the real cowboys to a flying saucer).

And then finally, you have Antlers. Antlers is the character I feel I least sympathise with and least understand, which is a personal thing (I’ll be interested to see what the Bluray special features affect this actually), but I think is also tied to the fact that he is what you would expect the most, historically, from a film like this. He is an old white guy. He’s sort of the old guard of cinema, and he’s very stoic, selfish, and keeps his cards close to his chest. Not to mention he has such a typically “Western” accent it took all 5 of my watches at the cinema to parse all of his lines. On paper he is the picture of traditional masculinity… except he’s actually not the picture of traditional masculinity. In every scene, he’s either wearing a dress or a skirt of some kind, and the bracelet on his wrist even goes against what you would consider traditional masculine jewellery. If he was a young man, the dress code might almost be read as a piss-take of “quirky” young filmmakers and thereby making a derogatory statement re: AMAB people who wear gender non confirming clothes. But this is a much older man who is clearly making a choice of expression and comfort. It’s not extravagant – in fact on my first watch I didn’t even realise Antlers was wearing a skirt.

All this to say, it’s incredibly interesting to have such diversity in storytelling and representation of gender through it, and that it doesn’t always come down to “there should be more women in this.”

Anyway guys did you notice there’s a big cloud mural on the wall in the Fry’s store? This movie is batshit

#things I banged on about instead of working on my nano #this ended up longer than I intended oh well #at least if no one else reads it I got it out!#Nope 2022 #Nope movie

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“...Charles Perrault appended two morals to "La Barbe-Bleue," which one translation gives as: "Ladies, you should never pry,— You'll repent it by and by!" and "Then the husband ruled as king. Now it's quite a different thing; Be his beard what, hue it may— Madam has a word to say!" The first message warns women to resist curiosity which equals trouble; the second chides men for losing their authority thanks to the feminine "vice" of talk. In Johnson's translation, both morals nostalgically look back to a time of innocence and absolute male power and both blame women for the change. Though just as playfully ironic, Perrault's French text is not as explicit in its woman-blaming. As Zipes's more literal translation shows, Perrault's first moralite seems to be a universal, non-gendered warning: "Curiosity, in spite of its charm, / Too often causes a great deal of harm," though it eventually turns to the second sex or sexe, euphemistically rendered as "ladies" in translation.

The second moral does not refer to women's talking, and it does admit that Bluebeard's behavior is unacceptable: "No longer are husbands so terrible, / Or insist on having the impossible." The French text does however betray a certain insecurity about household power: "And whatever color his beard may be, / It's difficult to know who the master be." Whether in a more crudely sexist translation or in the original, Perrault's two morals still uphold absolute patriarchy as a "paradise," lost when women's curiosity opened the door to the bloody chamber. As the most authoritative version of "Bluebeard," it should not be surprising that Perrault's narrative has led literary retellers and commentators, especially in the nineteenth century, to identify the tale's central theme and crime as women's curiosity. The key is the central motif; women are targeted as the primary audience for the tale's apparent cautionary message.

In The Hard Facts of the Grimms' Fairy Tales and in Off with Their Heads! Maria Tatar has recently shown how this interpretation depends on reading "Bluebeard" as an echo of "the Genesis account of the Fall," which not only identifies Eve, and thus every woman, "as the principal agent of transgression" but also infuses "her act of disobedience with strong sexual overtones" (Off with Their Heads! 96). The result in some literary versions of "Bluebeard," and in Perrault's and Bechstein's especially, is an explicit condemnation of the heroine's curiosity, but total silence on the ethics of the husband's serial murders. Such editorial comments have encouraged psychoanalytical interpretations that view the bloody key as a sign of the heroine's sexual knowledge and betrayal.

Bruno Bettelheim's reading is typical: "Bluebeard" is a tale about sexual temptation. . . . However one interprets "Bluebeard," it is a cautionary tale which warns: Women, don't give in to your sexual curiosity; men, don't permit yourself to be carried away by your anger at being sexually betrayed. There is nothing subtle about it; most of all, no development toward higher humanity is being projected. (301-2) When considered within a folkloristic framework, however, such cautionary readings appear narrow and unconvincing—yet another reminder that relying on one or two texts for interpretation is dangerous, and that the narrator's/editor's comments are ideological variables which cannot determine the tale's semantics.

Tatar, for example, draws on the related tale "Mr. Fox" and examples from The Thousand and One Nights to show how curiosity can, when "paired with intelligence," prove to be "life-saving" rather than "self-defeating" (Hard Facts 178). Tatar claims that following Perrault's cue writers and critics have turned a tale of adventure based on a prohibition/violation sequence into a cautionary tale "rehearsing the perils of curiosity or celebrating the power of craft" (Hard Facts 178). Evoking earlier folkloristic research, especially E. Sidney Hartland's, in re-reading the structural and thematic role of curiosity, Tatar comes to provocatively fresh conclusions with both narrative and gender implications. Thus, as Catherine Velay-Vallaritin's careful work has also shown, exploring the rich and varied folkloric tradition of "Bluebeard" is an important step toward a feminist reading of the talc and its contemporary re-visions (L'ffistoire des conies43—93).

Take, for example, what E. Sidney Hartland identified in 1885 as the tale's "Forbidden Chamber" (C611) motif. Clearly, this prohibition need not have a cautionary value, nor does it have to affect women alone. In fact, the knowledge gained by exploring the bloody chamber in such tales is often instrumental to the hero's or heroine's deliverance. If the "Forbidden Chamber" rather than the "Bloody Key" is treated as the tale's central motif, then "Bluebeard" is no longer primarily about the consequences of failing a test—will the heroine be able to control her curiosity?—but about a process of initiation which requires entering the forbidden chamber. Sexual curiosity, with its implication of betrayal because it occurs behind her husband's back, is not the issue.

The heroine's knowledge of her husband, of herself, and of sexual politics is what matters. The test is whether she can acquire this knowledge and then use it cleverly enough to triumph over death. Focusing on initiation and survival helps us recognize that "Bluebeard" (AT312), "Rescue by the Sister" (AT311), and "The Robber Bridegroom" (AT955) are sister tales. …The initiatory pattern and other commonalities of these three tale types become even more evident if we consider folk versions that are closer to the oral tradition than the Perrault or Grimms' texts are. How the girl comes under Bluebeard's power varies. She marries him of her own free will; she is offered by her father; she is traded; she is tricked or captured. Reasons for choosing to marry him include money or, in some cases, her attraction to a special feature—sometimes even his beard.

While not perhaps significant in themselves, the many reasons given for the marriage multiply interpretive possibilities: Perrault to the contrary, then, the girl is not always the guilty party. As for the Bluebeard figure, he is inevitably presented as Other, belonging to a different class, land, or world altogether. He may be an ogre, a vampire-like creature, a cannibal, or even the Devil himself. Certainly a stranger, he is also a mysterious being who usually presents himself as a rich man with a beard, be it blue or green, or a silver nose in an Italian version, as the visible clue to his otherness. The heroine's test in itself requires a knowledge of death/otherness and forces her to use her cleverness in the name of life/the familiar. The forbidden chamber can therefore be the husband's bloody chamber, a room where the heroine is asked to consume human flesh, or Hell itself.

She tricks the Bluebeard figure: by sending an animal messenger to her family; by not carrying the key, flower, egg, or other object entrusted to her into the forbidden room; by making him believe she has eaten the human hand or foot he gave her; by exposing him in public through her "dream." In the process of saving herself, she often saves earlier victims—her sisters, a young prince. The girl reassembles their bodies, applies a magic ointment, or pulls them out of Hell. Even when she does not literally rescue others, she contributes to the general welfare, by sharing her dead husband's riches or by pointing her finger at the criminal and thus putting a stop to the murders. And, in most cases, the girl does not passively rely on chance for rescue. She initiates her own rescue by sending an animal helper back to her family, or she plans and executes her own deliverance.

"Bluebeard" and related "Forbidden Chamber" tales (ATM 2, ATS 11 and AT955) are therefore tales of initiation in which the protagonist successfully confronts death because she is bold and clever or because she has strong community ties. Bravery, not simply curiosity, lead her to unlock the forbidden chamber, especially when her husband tells her that her sisters are dead, and that she will be too if she disobeys. She must be clever to see him not as the Law but as the enemy. Sometimes she does not trust him in her heart; other times, though proven to be false, he holds her in his power. Surviving requires clever deception and siding with her human allies, which again reinforces the social dimension of this initiation. In the face of death, she relies on her family, her sisters or brothers, and more broadly humankind, the community (to which the Bluebeard figure does not belong), to re-establish a link with life.

…Regardless of the details, the tale's resolution reaffirms the protagonist's membership in a variety of social groups—humanity, women, family, the town—and establishes her right to make a home for herself with her own kind. She is transformed by the experience. Female disobedience is therefore hardly the point. Focusing on the initiatory pattern redeems the heroine, restoring her to her place as the tale's rightful protagonist. But this is not the whole story. Emphasizing the bride does not necessarily place her husband or husband-to-be in a subordinate role, since he remains the other subject of this double-plotted narrative. Pursuing independent though related goals, each functions as means and obstacle in the other's plot. By crossing the threshold of the bloody chamber, both have trespassed, and blood marks them both. Both also want knowledge of, and power over, the other.”

- Christina Bacchilega, “”Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold.”: Double Agents and Bluebeard’s Plot.” in Postmodern Fairy Tales: Gender and Narrative Strategies

#christina bacchilega #fairy tales #bluebeard #postmodern fairy tales

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wwilloww · 5 years ago

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sugar | ksj

A/N: This story was commissioned by @jamaisjoons through @ficswithluv‘s Changes With Luv project. Thank you so much for your donation. I had so much fun writing this Jin and exploring these characters so—I hope you enjoy it! A million thousand hundred THANK YOUS to @unlikelylittlemiss and @ot7always for beta’ing this!

After many hours of technical difficulties, I’ve formatted what I hope will be the final version of this story. So far I think it’s the favorite one that I’ve written, so if you like this piece, please let me know! It means the world to me when I hear from you all.

|| masterlist || moodboard || ao3 ||

©wwilloww Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without my permission.

Seokjin traces the rim of the crystal glass, absentmindedly watching the crowd around him swell and sway like a tide. His eyes sweep over the sea of faces, but he doesn't find what he's looking for.

He swirls the golden liquid around the glass and takes a slow sip, wetting his lips with his tongue as he relishes in the comfortable burn of peaty scotch sliding down his throat.

Finally, his gaze captures what he's been searching for.

You. Dressed in a slim asymmetrical white number, sheer fabric draping delicately over one arm. You're unmistakable.

Above you, thousands of shards of crystal hang as if suspended in midair, the art piece paling in comparison to the presence you command. The venue is dimly lit, but the blend of candlelight and starshine is enough to illuminate your face and paint your features in a dance of shimmering light.

He watches the million-dollar sculpture light your slight smile and curious eyes with a silver radiance. The pinkish light of a neon sign had bounced off of your features in an almost identical fashion the night you met.

ONE YEAR AGO

It was chance. Two strangers, anonymous in your settings, both searching for an escape. After finishing your first ever commission, you were desperate to get out of your cramped, barely-affordable studio, while Jin wanted to slip away from the pressures and strict culture of his high-end gallery. Neither knew who the other was, but you gravitated to each other nonetheless.

He sees you first as you shoulder through the front door of the dive bar, your rain-drenched jacket slung over your back, your eyes bright and intelligent. But you were the one to approach the tall, broad shouldered man first, riding off the high of a completed project. You buy him a drink—and then a second. You don’t talk about work tonight. Don’t talk about your lives. You’re both so absorbed in the other that you’re oblivious to the scent of tobacco smoke drifting over you, or the sounds of a rowdy pool game behind you. After four hours cozied up at that bar as the rain pours down outside, you invite him back to your tiny, paint and plant addled apartment.

Once you arrive back home, your roommate nowhere to be seen, you quickly offer him a drink. You hurried to the kitchen to dig through the fridge to find something— really, anything—to serve the handsome man standing in your living room and curse yourself for not getting groceries this week.

“Who is this?” Jin asks.

“Huh?”

“The painting. Who is it?”

You turn to find him staring starry-eyed at your most recent project, hanging above your couch.

“Oh, that. Moi.”

“Who?”

“Me, dummy.”

“You? You paint?” He’s looking at you, eyes wide and curious.

“Yeah, if you can call it that.”

“You can definitely call it that,” he says sternly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He reaches out as if to touch it, but freezes, fingers held an inch away from the canvas.

“You can touch it, if you want,” you offer.

He shoots you a flabbergasted look, as if to say really?, and you nod at him as you pull out plastic cups from your sparse cupboard. You pour two glasses of wine and hold one out to him as he comes back to you.

“I was always told not to touch the works of art,” he says, taking the glasses out of your hand and setting them down on the counter. “But this just makes the experience all the more memorable.”

You hiccup at his attempt at dirty talk, not used to men who know what they want, who are willing to spread their desire so plainly before you.

He kicks apart your legs, pressing a thigh against your heated core. He lowers his lips just enough that they almost brush up against yours.

“May I?” he breathes against you. You nod and suddenly he’s captured you in a kiss, the plush of his lips moving heatedly against you. You wrap your arms around his neck and he sighs at your touch. When you break apart, his eyes dark with lust and your breath quickening in your chest, you don’t hesitate to take his hand and lead him to the bedroom.

Before you can step inside, he swings you around and picks you up. Your legs wrap around his waist and you can feel his length pressed hard against you. He backs you against the doorframe, your spine hitting the wood—but you don’t even notice it. All you can feel is the way his cock is jutting against your clit.

“Look at you, grinding yourself against me.”

You groan as he thrusts his clothed cock against you.

“Bed. Now,” you demand.

He walks towards the bed, still holding you, still kissing you, until his knees hit the mattress. And then his grip is loosening and you’re thrown onto the soft surface of the bed, a gasp rushing through your lungs. You watch as he pulls his shirt off, revealing a toned chest. You didn’t think the man in front of you could get any hotter, but as he crawls up the bed to hover over you, you’re proven wrong.

“Please, god, fuck me,” you groan as he kisses you.

It’s all he needs to hear.

The next morning you wake to an unfamiliar arm wrapped around your waist and morning breath tickling your ear. You smile as the details of last night come flooding back.

“Morning,” you grumble, feeling the man shift behind you.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he replies, a heavenly rasp edging his voice.

His hand comes to trace your waist and you let out a quiet moan, your senses softened by sleep. A smile flickers across your lips as his hand dips lower, casting warmth over your hips, your pelvic bone, and finally, your lower lips as his hands explore your body.

“You’re so wet I could just slip right into you, no problem,” he says as he runs his finger along your slick folds. You twist yourself around so you’re on your back now with Jin pressed against your side. Without breaking eye contact, you reach down with one hand to wrap around his length. With your other hand, you grab his hips, pulling him towards you—he takes the cue and straddles you, his hands coming down on either side of your head. You pull him closer so that the head of his cock is pressed against your entrance. “Now?” he asks.

“Now,” you reply.

Despite your wetness and the stretch from last night, he’s still a tight fit as he slides into you. A delightful ache threads through your belly and you arch your back to better accommodate him.

“God, how are you this perfect?” he groans once he’s buried entirely within your walls. He settles his weight against you, giving you a moment to adjust to his girth. “What would it take to get you like this again?”

“Get me into the Whitney,” you joke.

“Done.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. “You’re hysterical.”

“I’m not joking.”

You search his expression for any sign of a joke, but you find none. “Wh-what?” you fumble.

“I’m serious.”

His gaze is calm and collected as if he had just agreed to buy you breakfast—not kickstart your art career.

“Do you not know who I am?”

“Why the fuck would I know who you are?”

His eyes widen for a moment before he breaks out in laughter.

“Oh, well then, don’t worry about it.”

As his chest shakes as he chuckles against you, you’re reminded of your current position. You look down to where your bodies are joined, his cock hard and not even fully sheathed within you.

“You’re not, like, some kind of serial killer right?”

“Uh, no.”

“Okay, well then I literally couldn’t care less who you are.” He smirks at you and you pout. “Can you please just fuck me now?”

He chuckles. “It seems you have to keep asking me for that.” He thrusts into you with enough force that your body slides several inches up the mattress and the two of you groan as you adjust to his girth. He relishes in the tight throbbing of your cunt. and he relishes in the tight throbbing of your cunt.

He fucks you slow and hard, each thrust slamming into your body, making your toes curl and your back arch. You both come quickly, relishing in the feeling of one another and the pleasure rippling across each other’s face.

“I’ll be honest,” you say, as you pull your shirt over your head. “I kinda liked it when you pushed me around last night. We should do that again.”

“After breakfast though?”

“After breakfast.”

A month later, you had been scrolling through your email when you saw a message from an unknown sender.

Subject : Acceptance to Whitney Museum of American Art.

————————————————————-

Thank you so much for your submission to our open call for pieces exploring “identity and landscape.” We are thrilled to inform you that your art has been accepted by our committee and will be displayed in our upcoming exhibit. Your piece explores these themes in a manner that took the committee’s breath away…

Your phone slips out of your grasp and drops to the floor, cracking the screen in the process.

You’d been submitting your art to them for years, and yet why was it that only after that strange comment Jin had made that you got in? Could it be more than just a coincidence?

The rest of the day is filled with half blossoming excitement and half mortification. Had Jin done this for you? You had been frequenting the museum since before you could hold a paintbrush, and trying to get into their gallery since you began painting professionally—but then all of a sudden as soon as you meet this mysterious stranger, your dream was placed right into your hands.

Three days later, you’re standing in front of the biggest art event you’ve ever been invited to, staring at a very large, very expensive banner that features none other than Jin.

CURATOR OF THE YEAR, the text reads.

Oh. Oh.

It all makes sense. Do you not know who I am? he had asked. You should have known. His name was plastered on every major art exhibit in this city. You had heard about him a thousand times before, but never even thought to connect the dots between the Kim Seokjin who visited your apartment several times a week and reorganized your fridge and the Kim Seokjin. He was a curator, but more than that he was a mentor of sorts. His approach to work was one of a kind: he led the artists he took under his wing with a gentle, guiding touch. Instead of shackling them into contracts or monetary and social debt like others in his position did, he gave them the tools they needed and allowed them the space and support they required to flourish on their own. This kind of business structure not only led to artists all over the world adoring him, but came back to repay him a thousand times over.

You never got into the Whitney on your own merit, you think. It was all Jin’s doing.

After you collect your jaw off the floor and enter the building, you almost immediately spot Jin.

Taking a deep breath to calm the swirling emotions in your belly and mustering all the courage you had, you tuck your painting underneath your arm and stomped up to him.

He’s standing, admiring a large mural. His face is painted in contemplation. For whatever reason, it reminds you of the feeling of standing in a spring clearing, in the middle of nowhere, letting a gentle breeze wash over you. You shove that feeling away as you stride up to him, stopping a foot or two behind him.

“Jin?”

“Hm—?” Jin spins on his heel. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise.” His eyes light up. “I haven’t heard from you in a couple of days, I was worried something was wrong.”

“I got into the Whitney.”

“Wait, what? That’s amazing!”

“And I figured out who you are.”

His eyes widen.

“Before anything else, I wanted to thank you for your help. I…” You shake your head, trying to wrap your mind around what’s just happened. “I’m not really sure how to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do anything.”

“I’ve been submitting to the Whitney for years and I’ve never even gotten a rejection email from them. And then I met you, and—and then it’s done. I’m in.” You look to him for an explanation.

“Okay, I admit,” Jin says, running a hand through his hair. “I put in a good word for you. But I did nothing more than mention to the board that I had seen your art and that I was very impressed by it.”

“That’s too much,” you frown.

“It’s not. It literally took thirty seconds of my time. And I did it because I genuinely believe in the vision of your projects.”

“If they believed in the vision of my projects, they would have accepted them without your name attached to it,” you snap.

“I—I’m sorry,” he says, looking down. “I didn’t realize it would upset you. I thought it would make you happy.”

You sigh, putting your hand on his arm. You only speak when he looks at you. “I’m upset, but I’m also really excited. I just—I want to do this on my own. I don’t want it to because of someone’s name. I want it to be because of my work. And I know that’s romantic and maybe not super realistic, but I need you to understand that that’s what I want.” You take a deep breath before continuing and he slips his hand into yours. “And more than that, I want to make it clear that I’m not just seeing you because of your status.”

“I understand,” he says softly, squeezing your hand. “So you’re seeing me now?”

You flush at your slip of tongue.

“I-I mean—”

“I’d like to see you,” he says. “If you’ll have me.”

Seokjin quickly became a constant fixture in your life. While he stopped involving himself in your work (and immediately after your conversation in the gallery, had quickly excused himself to make several calls to call off different projects and potential buyers) he did insist on buying your art supplies, moving you into a larger studio, and helping you work through the complicated process of finding grants to apply for. And of course, Jin was always ready to take care of your other, ahem, needs as well.

Your relationship quickly developed. You talked about the ins and outs of sex and your roles in the bedroom, but somehow never seemed to move the conversation about what you were to each other outside of your sheets—or the closet in the gallery, or the bathroom of your now-favorite bar.

PRESENT DAY

Jin sets his half-full glass down to make his way over to you. As he stands from the bar, an arm slides into his elbow, forcing him to turn away from you.

Your heart thrums in your chest as you stood at the top of the marble stairs, looking down into the outdoor amphitheater where tonight’s gala was being hosted.

You had arrived solo on your own instances. Even after a year together, you were still hesitant to show up as Seokjin’s date, knowing you were more likely to garner the title “girlfriend” than “artist.” Still, the thought of seeing Seokjin sent goosebumps chasing down your skin and you smiled softly to yourself as you searched the crowd for the tall man. You had come straight from your studio and there was still paint and paper mache stuck beneath your fingernails, a fact that didn’t quite fit into the posh environment you were in, but one that made you feel grounded nonetheless.

"Hello, darling," a deep voice sings into your ear. "You're looking particularly ravishing tonight."

You turn, expecting to see Seokjin. Instead, a strapping young man, unfamiliar but recognizable to you, stands in his place.

"Jeon Jungkook," you address the famous photographer as he takes your hand and presses a kiss to it. You suppress the urge to grimace as his lips meet your skin. The young man is undoubtedly handsome—there's no denying it—and you shyly look down as his eyes rove over you like you are a piece of art to be appraised.

"I've seen you at these events for quite a while now."

"Have you now?"

"Always on Mr. Kim's arm, too. Don't you think he's a little... maturefor you?"

It’s not like we’re together, you want to respond, but you hold your tongue. There was only a seven year age gap between you and Soekjin. And yet, because he carried himself with such discipline and stature, this was a constant question you had to navigate whether it came up in terms of your relationship with, working or otherwise.

“Speaking of Mr. Kim, have you seen him anywhere?” you ask, smiling tightly.

Jungkook takes your arm and turns you, pointing through the crowd.

There he is. Jin is dressed impeccably in a light-colored suit, the cut accenting his tall frame, broad shoulders, and narrow waist. You smile upon seeing him and wave, but he doesn’t see you.

There’s a flash of blonde hair and suddenly you realize what’s occupying Jin’s attentions.

You frown as you watch the woman's arm snake around Jin's. Tonight was supposed to have been a chance for the two of you to spend some quality time together, surrounded by beautiful art and artists, to see each other without interruption — but then again maybe a gala wasn't the best choice for quality time.

"There's something about you," Jungkook muses, oblivious to your distraction. "A light in your eye. Passion. You know, I would love to photograph you some time."

You glance over Jungkook's shoulder to see the woman with her hand gripping Jin's bicep, obviously trying to capture and hold his attention. And yet Jin's gaze is fixed on you. You meet his eyes, only to let a ghost of a smirk dash across your lips, before returning your focus to Jungkook. Even though you know Jin’s attention is only focused on you, you figure you might have some fun with the current situation.

"Oh really?" you say, blinking up at him flirtatiously. "And how would you have me?"

Jeon Jungkook was known for his abstract and mythological concepts. His photos were stunning, portraying story and eroticism at their most intellectual and beautiful.

"Aphrodite. No doubt."

Original, you think, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Hm," you hum, as if mulling it over. "Tell me more." Your switch from professional to outrightly coquettish startles him and he stumbles over his words for a moment before regaining his composure and leaning in.

"Pink lighting. Texture? Hm, dove wings. I've been playing with fabric lately—" Jungkook falls into the description of his concept, flowing so quickly through the smallest of details, almost as if he's thought this through before, specifically for you. Instead of listening, you watch Jin out of your peripheral vision. "I can almost imagine the magazine spread now."

Your attention snaps back to the young man in front of you and as an idea flashes across your mind, you do your best not to giggle and to remain serious. "You know, I would love to be spread out for you." You smile innocently and Jungkook gulps.

"I, ah—” Jungkook is stopped mid sentence as a hand is clapped on his shoulder.

"Jeon," Seokjin nods at the younger man, a stiff smile painting his face. "I see you've met my—" Your eyebrows shoot up at the slip, but Jin quickly catches himself. "YN. One of the best painters I know."

Jungkook scoffs. “Uh, yeah, obviously.” When he looks up to find you and Jin staring confusedly at him, he clears his throat. “I mean—what I meant to say is her talent is underrated. Which you probably already know.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Alright, then,” Jin says.

“Aw, thanks, Jungkookie,” you say, swatting his shoulder and you watch as the young man flushes while Jin’s brow raises in question at the use of the pet name.

“Drinks?” Jin says, breaking the quickly rising tension between the three of you. Taking your elbow he leads you towards the bar and Jungkook quickly trots behind. He orders another scotch and you shake your head, “Nothing for me.” As Jungkook leans over the bar, Jin steps behind you, his hand coming to rest gently on your waist.

“Behave,” he whispers.

“Hm?” you hum innocently, brushing your hair over your shoulders.

“At this rate, you’re asking to be punished,” Jin growls.

You smile sweetly up at him, pinching his cheek playfully before realizing where you are and who might see. You quickly snatch your hand back, hoping no one saw.

Jungkook turns back with a martini in hand. Interesting choice, you think.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” Jungkook asks you.

“She already said she didn’t want anything.” Jin answers for you.

“I can speak for myself, thank you very much,” you cut in, crossing your arms. “But no, maybe later.”

A long moment of silence hangs between the three of you.

“Well, don’t mind me then. I have a couple of people I need to speak with.” Jin nods at the two of you and turns on his heel. You watch his tall frame, tracking where he’s going. The game is on.

It seems as the night drags on, Jin is purposefully ignoring you, knowing it’ll rile you up just enough. He continues to engage with artists and experts from all over the globe and Jungkook hangs at your side. Beyond the awkward flirtation he keeps throwing your way—which you don’t blame him for, considering you keep egging him on—he’s quite an intelligent young man with a vision.

After half an hour of Jin’s lack of presence, you’re bored and tired. The two of you wander around the gala, looking at the art pieces. When you see Jin hovering near one in the corner, you gently guide Jungkook over. As you approach, you realize why Jin has been spending so much time over here.

The eight by ten piece that you had sold to an anonymous buyer last week is hanging on the wall. The bright oranges and deep blues seem to shimmer and swim within the space compared to the crystal, silver, and gold pieces that pepper the event tonight.

“This is yours, right?” Jungkook asks. “I’d recognize the style anywhere.”

“Uh, yeah, I just didn’t expect it to be here. I sold it to an anonymous buyer last week. I have no idea how it got here.”

Jungkook looks confusedly at you. “Hm. Weird.”

You stare blankly at your own art for a while, puzzling over how it could have gotten to this level of a gala. The buyer from last week had said nothing about the gala. But here it is in front of you, big and commanding—and marked with a $500,000 price tag? The proceeds of tonight’s event were going directly to charity and still your mouth hangs open as you ogle the string of zeros in front of you.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything to drink?” Jungkook asks, breaking through your reverie. “I don’t mind getting it for you.”

“That’s so kind of you,” you smile, knowing that tonight’s event hosts an open bar. At that moment you notice Jin’s gaze finally, finallyresting on you. “Actually, your drink is looking pretty good to me right now.” You take a step closer to Jungkook, meeting his gaze and resting one of your hands gently on his elbow. He shudders under your touch. As much as he puts on a confident front, you know your forwardness unravels him just enough. Without breaking eye contact, you reach into his martini glass and pull out a green olive. Opening your mouth slowly, you purse your lips around the round fruit before sucking it into your mouth. You open your mouth just enough for Jungkook to see how it rests on your tongue.

Jungkook’s jaw is hanging open.

“Oh my god.”

Suddenly, a hand is clasped onto Jungkook’s shoulder. He spins around to see a towering Jin. Jin’s features are relaxed and calm, but you catch the hard edge in his tone, even as it slips past Jungkook’s awareness.

“Jeon, I was just talking to an up-and-coming dancer earlier tonight. He’s looking to partner with a photographer for a project. I mentioned your work to him and he would love to talk to you.” Jin turns Jungkook to point to a handsome man standing across the room, a sun-filled smile dancing across his lips.

“Wait—really?” Jungkook looks flabbergasted.

“Of course, I admire your work,” Jin says.

“Wow, thank you. I really appreciate it.” He reaches out to shake Jin’s hand. “Thank you so much, sir.” A smirk threatens to break Jin’s calm demeanor.

“Anytime.”

Jungkook turns to walk towards the dancer but spins back towards you. “Don’t, uh, don’t go anywhere, yeah?”

“Sure.”

Once Jungkook is out of range of hearing, Jin steps closer to you. "Upstairs. Now."

Because tonight's gala was in part hosted by Seokjin and his company, it took place in the courtyard of one of Seokjin's highrises.

With the ghost of a smirk playing on your features, you turn on your heel, head held high, and make your way to the elevators.

It’s just like him to make you wait.

Twenty minutes after you arrived in the penthouse apartment, Jin was nowhere to be seen. So you kick your heels off and make your way to the fridge, finding an open bottle of your favorite wine that he kept in stock just for you. You pour yourself a glass and make your way to the gigantic kitchen island, leaning over it and scrolling through your phone. You know Jin would expect you to be waiting ready and in position for him, but tonight you feel like pushing the limits.

A gentle ding echoes through the living room. You click your phone off and look up just in time to see the silver door of the elevator slide shut behind him.

Seokjin runs a hand through his hair, loosening the strands from his perfect slicked-back look. You nearly salivate at the sight of him unbuttoning the top button of his dress shirt, even as your heart beats like it is ready to jump straight out of your chest.

You gulp as his eyes land on you. Finally.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” you say.

“Have I?”

“Are you punishing me?”

“You won’t need to ask me if I’m punishing you when I’m punishing you. You’ll know.” Despite the coldness of his words, there’s a playful glint in his eyes. You know his anger is for show and not genuine. The direction you're headed is a space the two of you have carefully mapped out, experimented with, and discussed over the course of your relationship. When he slips into this role, it's for both of your pleasure, and never as an outlet for his anger. "So no, I'm not. At least, not yet."

"Jin—" you say.

"Sir," Jin corrects.

"—Sir," you repeat, standing up from the island and walking slowly towards him. You bat your eyes and saunter over to him, pressing yourself against his chest as you take one of his hands and guide it under your dress. His eyes widen when he realizes you're not wearing any underwear.

"God, you're wet."

"I wanna cum," you state matter of factly. You thought your directness might startle him, but instead, his composure remains unaffected.

"You misbehaved all night long," Jin murmurs in your ear. "But maybe if you're a good girl for me and take your punishment, we can talk about you cumming."

And just like that, his hand is gone.

"Are you gonna be good?"

You don’t respond. Instead, you smile sweetly at him. You meet his gaze but don’t move. He cocks an eyebrow and pulls you tight against him with one hand as he pinches your chin with the other.

"You thought you could use this pretty little costume of innocence,” he says as he plays with the sleeve of your dress, a sneer painting his face. “Dressed all in white, and so elegant too. You thought you could hide the whore you are beneath a dress like this?"

His grip on your hips tightens as he pushes you forward, turning you forcibly. It shocks the breath out of your lungs. He pulls you back, your ass flush against his hard but clothed cock. His hands grab your shoulders, steadying you.

"I'd like to fuck you in one of these cute little outfits sometime. But not tonight. Tonight I want you entirely bare." The next thing you know, the sound of ripping fabric fills the space and your dress falls down in shreds at your feet.

"My-my dress," you gasp.

"A shame.” He feigns a pout. “You looked so good in it. But you look even better like this."

It briefly flashes through your mind that you're not sure how you're going to be able to leave, as you hadn't brought a change of clothes—and then that concern is quickly replaced by the confusion as he bends down to examine you.

"When was the last time you touched yourself?" Jin asks as he runs a finger over your slit. You shudder at the sensation.

"You were the last one to touch me."

“So you’re telling me you’re ready to flirt with any man who approaches you, make him think you’re gonna let him fuck you, but then it’s all for show?” He slips a single finger into your cunt. “What a tease.”

“For you,” you gasp as he hooks his finger and hits a particularly sensitive spot. “I would never.”

“Never what?”

“Never fuck another man.”

“Your actions tonight tell me something else.”

Your brow furrows as Jin adds a second finger.

“I-I just wanted you to pay attention.”

"That’s all you wanted, hm, little one? My attention?"

"Yes, sir," you mumble back.

"Good. You have it." He pulls his fingers from your dripping entrance and stands.

Your brows furrowed in frustration. "I want more," you say.

"And I want you to behave yourself when we're out in public together. It seems like neither of us is getting what we want, hm?" When you pout, he chuckles. "But I bet you can make it up to me. Take your punishment like a good girl. And we'll see if we can't both have what we want." You nod, eagerly. "Go bend over the couch and wait for me."

You quickly lay yourself over the arm of the black leather couch that stretches across the sprawling living room. Jin disappears into one of the back rooms for a moment, but you soon hear his footsteps echoing on the marble, approaching you from behind. He rests a hand on your bare ass, roving over it in slow circles before coming to kneel down beside you.

"Safeword?"

"Peaches."

His eyes search yours—checking, making sure you're really okay with this before he continues, that same awareness never leaving his eyes. "Good. You'll use it if you need to."

You nod.

“You know why I have to do this right?” Jin asks, his voice calm and clear as he stands and steps out of your line of vision. You can hear the clink of a belt buckle as he doubles it up in his hand.

“I disobeyed you.”

“And?”

“I didn’t listen when you asked me to stop.”

“And what exactly did I want you to stop doing?”

“Flirting with him.”

“Who? Say his name.”

“Jeon Jungkook.”

He chuckles. “I want that to be the last time his name leaves your lips tonight. Understood?” You nod, wholeheartedly. “The poor boy. You left him so hard and eager for your pretty little cunt. I bet he thought he was going to get to fuck you after all that teasing. Tell me, is that what you wanted him to think?”

“Yes,” you admit.

“And yet, after all that work and you were so quick to drop him just for me. I’m going to spank you and you’re going to take it like a good girl. Seven hits. Count for me.”

That’s when the first hit lands. The air in your lungs whooshes out of you in shock. After the initial pain, a soft warmth spreads through your cheeks.

“I said, count.”

“One,” you say, your voice strong.

The belt comes down on you a second time, cracking against your other cheek. “Two.” Your nails dig into the leather of the couch and his hand spreads across your ass, soothing over the spots where he’s hit you. The feeling of his fingertips against your skin brings coolness to the surface of your burning skin and the contrast sends arousal spiraling through your core.

“Good girl.”

Smack.

“Three.”

On four, you realize you’ve been holding your breath. The number comes out as a gasp, a puff of air and you realize you’ve been holding something else in. Shame. Guilt. Upset.

On five, you let out a particularly loud yelp, your cry of pain mixing with emotion and cutting through your pronunciation. Jin's hand immediately brushes across your sore ass to smooth over the most recent hit.

"Color?" he says softly.

"Green—green, please, keep going," you pant, tears threatening your eyes.

“Only two left.”

On six, you feel something split within you. You know it isn’t just about tonight, about your disobedience or your flirtations with a strange man. It’s about holding back. It’s about letting your brattiness build a wall between the warm thing that’s been building in your chest and Jin, the man who keeps showing up for you.

“Seven! M’ sorry!” you call out as seven comes down on your ass. The wall splits open within you, sending a flood of emotion and endorphins through your body. All you want is to fall into this sensation. The one where he’s here for you, and you can let him be here for you.

Jin smoothes his hands over your ass one final time. You wince slightly, knowing it’s going to be painful to sit for the next couple of days. And yet all you can feel is a golden glow, pulsing through your veins, tinting your perception. Your body feels lighter, the space around you more spacious, and the look in Jin’s eyes is glowing.

Jin pulls you up to your feet, searching your eyes to make sure you’re alright. He finds a strange, new warmth in them, one that spills out completely for him. And something close to daze.

“No hands.” Still, you can’t help but reach out to him, lacing your fingers into the front of his shirt. “I said, no hands.” You refuse to remove them. He’s suddenly stepping back from you. "You can't seem to listen, can you, little one? Hands behind your back." You stare blankly at him. "I won't ask you twice."

You bring your hands behind you, clasping one hand around a wrist. He circles around you until he's out of your range of sight. You hear the tearing of fabric and then the cool brush of what you assume must be your dress wrapping around your wrists as Jin expertly ties them together. When the knot is tight and secure, he walks slowly back around you so you're face to face.

"Kneel."

Your knees hit the cold marble floor.

"Suck my cock."

"But—" You attempt to protest, your hands still tied behind your back. Your voice trails off as his eyes harden.

His belt is already open and you take the cold metal in your mouth, leaning your head back as you pull it out of the loops. It's an awkward angle, but you do your best and soon it falls to the floor with a clink. You glance up at him, searching for validation. His gaze is still hard, but there's a glimmer of a smile—pride? delight?—hanging at the corner of his lips.

"Keep going."

Leaning forward, you nudge your nose along the hard length sporting in his pants. His arousal is more than apparent through the fabric of his pants: thick, and long, and impossibly hard. Without breaking eye contact, you stick your tongue out of your mouth and slowly trace it up the length of his covered cock.

His hand tightens in your hair and you yelp as pain shoots into your scalp.

"I asked you to do something. Are you getting distracted?" What was once painful has quickly turned into a delicious pleasure as your face flushes, the hand in your hair teasing tingles down your spine. "Answer me." He grips your hair tighter, forcing your head back even further.

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

He releases his grasp just enough that you're able to lean back to the tenting bulge in his pants, but still does not release you fully.

Carefully, you suck the button of his slacks into your mouth, expertly sucking and tonguing the cold metal until you feel it slip through the hole, before moving down to pull the zipper between your teeth and tug it all the way down. You gasp as you realize he's not wearing underwear and your cunt contracts around nothing. You're face to face with his bare cock.

"Sir, may I?"

He nods and you immediately lean forward to lick a broad, wet stripe up from the base of his cock to the tip. Without the use of your hands, you find yourself relying on the movements of your upper body and your mouth to pleasure him.

Slowly, you lick around the angry red head of his cock, teasing a light gasp from him. You continue to do this until you know he’s just on the edge of frustration and before he can say anything, you purse your lips around him.

As you take him into your mouth, you’re particularly aware of the remainder that you’re unable to fit. Usually, you would wrap one or both of your hands around him, stroking him where you couldn’t reach. But now that’s inaccessible to you.

Relaxing your throat, you attempt to take him deeper but choke at the sensation of his thick head hitting the back of your throat.

"You're so good at this, almost as if you were made to have your mouth stuffed with cock."

His praise urges you to take him deeper and press past the urge to gag. Taking a deep breath, you edge forward, allowing him to slip into the tight confines of your throat. He hiss at this and his hands tighten in your hair, this being the first time you’ve deepthroated him. Tears well in your eyes, blurring your vision as you continue to ease him deeper within you.

He begins thrusting into your throat. If you could reach up to wrap your hand around your throat, you would feel the protrusion of his cock pressing forward through the skin of your throat, visible and bulging.

You choke around him and he audibly groans at the sensation.

Jin looks down to find tears streaming out of your face, chin wet with drool. The sight of you, so lost in your actions, strikes something in his chest. As you meet his gaze, your lips so pink and pouted around him, the glaze in your eyes filled with adoration, his hips buck and he thrusts into your throat.

“I’m gonna cum,” he growls. “And I want you to swallow every last drop of it.”

He grabs your head as he fucks up into you one last time, pushing your nose against his pubic bone. You can feel his cum, hot and bitter, sliding down your throat. He doesn’t release you until he’s done. Finally, he pulls you off of him, your lips releasing from his spent cock with a pop.

Air comes rushing back into your lungs, replacing the black spots that had started to pepper your vision with starshine as you look up at Jin clearly. His forehead is shining with sweat and his cheeks are flushed in pleasure. He’s never prettier than he is now, spent with passion.

Jin quickly regains his wits as he pulls you up and takes his thumb to wipe the combination of drool and cum from your chin.

Something gleams in his eye.

“Up against the window,” he orders.

“Wha—”

Before you can finish your sentence, Jin is walking you backward until your back hits the cold glass. You gasp at the sensation of your heated ass cheeks mixed with the cold spark of the smooth surface.

With your back against the glass, hips pushed towards him again, he kisses languidly up your stomach. There is a gentleness in the way his lips whispered against your skin that shoots something through your chest and leaves you wanting more of whatever it is.

You gather yourself enough to look down and see his plump lips pursed around a nipple. As your eyes meet, he bites down around the swollen bud, and you whimper. He continues to bite and suck your breasts, drawing increasingly lewd sounds from you.

But then his lips leave the tender flesh of your breasts and kiss their way upwards to your neck. For a moment you think his gentle side might return, only to squirm beneath him as his teeth graze the delicate skin. Before you know it, his lips are pressed against you and he's sucking the skin in between his teeth.

"You'll leave a mark!" You exclaim, bound hands struggling to escape from where they’re still tied behind your back But he's quicker and stronger than you and he holds you down, stilling your movements, before continuing to suck and bite at your neck.

"Good." He moves his mouth to the hollow of your throat, sucking a bruise to the surface of your skin. "I want everyone to know exactly who you belong to. I want you to wear me, so no one even has a doubt in their mind whose slut you are."

As you look down, you realize he’s hard again. It’s not uncommon for him to be up and ready to go for a second or third round. His cock is red and rock-hard, and as he realizes what you’re looking at he smirks.

“Like what you see?”

“Yes, sir.” You swallow. “Want it—want you.”

“Do you think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You took your punishment well,” he muses languidly. “And you sucked Sir off so well, too.”

He drags a finger through your slit, forcing you to buck up into his touch.

“Please—” you gasp.

“Since you asked so nicely—” abruptly, he spins you around so you’re facing towards the window. “I’ll fuck you. But I want everyone to see exactly the kind of slut you are for this cock.”

“But—”

“Color?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. From this far up, you can see the gala, still in full swing. Even from this height, you can see their individual faces and you know if any of the people in sparkling gowns and tailored suits were to look up and squint, they would see your fucked-out form pressed against the window of the penthouse, your hands bound behind your back thrusting your chest forward obscenely. The thought sends a flood of arousal to your cunt.

“Green.”

“Good.”

At that, you feel the head of his cock brush against your dripping entrance. Jin looks down to see his huge cock resting against your red cheeks. You look tiny compared to him, and the sight makes him even harder. As he grips the base of his dick, he pushes gently against your entrance, the bulbous head slipping inside. His cock twitches as he hears you moan.

Jin is undoubtedly the biggest cock you’ve ever fucked. Even after months of him filling you, he was still a tight fit. While you often used lube to ease the slide in, tonight you were dripping wet, your arousal coating your swollen lips and beginning to run down your inner thighs. Slowly, he pushes into you. The sensation of being filled, of being stretched by him has you moaning, the sound filling the spacious apartment.

“You’re such a good slut for me, you take this cock so well,” Jin says as he presses the last inch of his length into you.

Kim Seokjin is a man of control. Despite the painful ache in his cock and the burning desire to pound into you, he isn't done drawing out your pleasure. Torturously slow, he slides his cock in and out of your tight cunt, his thick head dragging against your walls. You whine wantonly, pushing back against him.

He stops.

"Please. Sir," you nearly sob. "Need you."

"And I need you to use your words. This is mine." He reaches down to spread his palm over your sore ass, spreading you even further open for him. The sight of you impaled on his thick cock is one he’ll never get used to. "And I'll do what I want with it."

He can feel you shudder at his words, knowing that his possessiveness affected you just as much as it did him.

"You like that?" he growls. "Knowing you're mine? You're stuffed full of cock and still you want more. What a greedy slut."

"Please, Sir. Need you to fuck me," you beg. Still, Jin makes no indication of moving. "Please. Need you to show them who I belong to."

That does it.

“You. Belong. To. Me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, his cock spearing through the tightness of your walls.

“Fuck,” you hiss as he lifts your leg. The head of his cock begins to hit the knot of pleasure that’s tightly wound within your cunt. “Sir, you feel so good.” It’s all you can think about.

“He’s down there, isn’t he?” For a moment you’re not even sure who he’s talking about, so lost in pleasure and the sensations he’s teasing out of your body. “He could look up at any moment and see you like this, tits out, pressed up against the glass, letting me ruin you like this.” You moan at his words. “I bet you would like that, slut.” He punctuates the final word with a particularly hard thrust.

Your pussy clenches around him and he moans as he feels your tight walls grip him tighter.

“I think there’s a part of you that loves the idea of the world watching you get fucked.”

"Gonna—gonna cum," you gasp, your words stuttered out of your mouth by Jin's rough thrusts. "Sir, please, can I come?"

"No."

"Sir, please."

"Did you not hear me?" he growls. "Listen, or I'll stuff that pretty little mouth with something less pleasant than my cock."

You throw your head back, squeezing your eyes shut and clenching your abdominal muscles in an attempt to hold back the waves of euphoria that threaten to wash over you any moment now.

“Please, sir, need to come. I’ll do anything.” The tears that have been threatening to run down your face finally spill over as you’re split in pleasure and discomfort. “Please, anything.”

Jin releases your leg with a grunt and pushes your legs together, making it a tighter fit for both of you. With one hand he pushes down on your lower back, arching it for you. His other hand comes to wrap around your bound wrists, using the grip to power his thrusts into you. Somehow the new angle makes him seem even bigger than he already is and you mewl.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Jin,” you force out, trying to find your words through the pleasure that he’s pounding into you. “Only you.” Too late, you realize that you had used the wrong name for him and you gasp, ready for whatever correction he deems fit for you.

But it seems that’s exactly what he wanted you to say.

“Good girl. Cum. Now.”

As soon as the sound has left his lips your orgasm barrels through you.

“Jin!” you cry. You throw your head back, white overtaking your vision. Your cunt pulses around his hard length, spasming for what feels like minutes. Your breath freezes in your throat as sparks of pleasure flood your body.

Watching you come unraveled around his name is what does it for him. He groans as his orgasm washes over him, sending waves of pleasure throughout his whole body. He shudders against you, releasing ropes of cum into your still-pulsating cunt. You can feel his cock twitch against your oversensitive walls as he empties himself into you. His breath is heavy against your neck as his arms tighten around you. As much as you love the Jin in control, these moments when he releases all pretenses are precious to you.

Even as he stays sheathed within you, you can feel his cum begin to drip out of your cunt, running down your thighs. When he finally pulls out, the mix of your combined orgasms gushes out of you and you frown at the proceeding sensation of emptiness.

As you slump against the window, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure and exhaustion, you feel Jin’s large hands ghost down your arms, releasing the fabring binding your wrists together. When he’s done, his hands come to rest on your hips, turning you as he kneels down in front of you. You gasp as you feel him swipe two of his fingers through the swollen folds of your cunt, as he collects his own cum. The sensation splits you in overwhelm.

"Open," Jin commands, standing up. You open your mouth and he slides the two cum covered fingers past your lips. "Suck." Dutifully, you press your lips around him, swallowing around him until he pulls out, not a drop of cum left on his fingers. His eyes burn in desire, and if it weren't for the exhaustion apparent in your posture, you know he would be ready to go for a second round. "Good girl."

You smile softly up at him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He holds you close and the two of you simply breathe together. You feel comforted against his large frame, his breath flowing easily and freely through him, your own body finding solace in the soft rhythm. He holds you like that for what feels like forever before he tips your weight into his body and leads you to the sleek leather couch. There, he sits down, pulling you into his lap. You curl up against his wide chest, nestling your nose into the crook of his neck.

"How are you?" he asks as he brushes the hair out of your eyes.

"Feel so good," you murmur, eyes fluttering shut in the afterglow that radiates throughout your whole body. Every muscle in your body feels warm and stretched.

"Do you want me to bring you to bed?" After all this time, Jin knows how sleepy you get after a scene like this.

"Mm, surprisingly not sleepy. Just... happy."

He holds you for a while, and you bask in the feeling of his arms wrapped securely around you and the light brush of his steady breath against your hair.

“Earlier,” you begin slowly. “You slipped. You started to call me ‘my’—and then you stopped. What were you going to say?”

Jin is quiet and for a moment you wonder if you misspoke.

“Honestly?” he finally says, his voice brushing over you like a soft breeze.

“Honestly,” you repeat, twisting into him to look him in the eyes. There’s something desperately gentle in his gaze. You could fall into it.

“Honestly, I don’t really know where my mind was going in that moment.” He pauses, chewing over his words. “But, I would like to call you mine—in some way.”

“Yours?”

He nods, shyly. “Mine.”

“Sure, I’ll be yours,” you grin, snuggling into his chest.

“Yeah?”

“But only if you’ll be mine, too.”

“I think we can arrange that.”

Seokjin pulls you tighter and just holds you like that for several minutes before he stands up and disappears into the bedroom for a moment. When he returns, he's holding a slim black box, which he hands to you.

"Put this on," he says.

You open the box to reveal a small black number.

"We're going back?" you ask.

"Only to get our winnings," he grins back to you, pushing his hair back again. "And to show everyone just exactly how much I won tonight."

“What do you mean, winnings?”

“I made a purchase tonight.” He presses a kiss to your lips. “The most colorful piece in the whole building.”

“—You?”

Jin smirks and comes behind you to zip up the beautiful piece of clothing. He traces over the bruises blossoming on your shoulders and neck with a gentle touch before pressing his lips to each and every one of them.

"Only if you're comfortable," he adds softly as you melt against his touch. There's no doubt you're tired. But still, the idea of finally walking into an event with Jin—no pretenses, no questions, no secrets—just together, has a thrill sparking in your core.

“I’m always comfortable with you,” you grin, taking his hand and leading him to the elevators.

|| masterlist || moodboard || ao3 ||

taglist: @velvetwicebang @spicykoreantatertots @usuallynervoussheep @dulcaet

#ficswithluv #changeswithluv #ksmutclub #btsgoldnet #btswriterscollective #bangtanarmynet #hyunglinenetwork #jin smut #ksj smut #ksj #ksj x reader #bts #bts smut #bts fic #smut #fluff #kim seokjin

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vidalinav · 4 years ago

Note

One of the main selling points for nessian was that cassian saw nesta so when sjm made him so obtuse to her suffering,really weakens his character imo.

Yeah... I mean. I think so too. Because there’s definitely a difference between ACOMAF/ACOWAR Cassian to ACOFAS/ACOSF Cassian. It’s very odd to me.

I know someone commented on one of my posts that they didn’t think Cassian lacks emotional intelligence like I claimed and I wrote a giant analysis so to speak, about emotional intelligence and Pre-ACOFAS Cassian and Post-ACOFAS Cassian, but I never posted it because at that point I was like ehh... wtf cares. I’ve ranted enough. It doesn’t matter in the slightest. It was way too long.

But there was a time I remember before ACOFAS, where a lot of the fandom was like the IC treat Cassian like he’s dumb. Like he’s just the comedic relief, or he’s just the person who sleeps around, who would sleep with Feyre yadda yadda, who don’t really validate his own feelings either, because with Feyre he was this lovable person who was very charismatic and I dare say emotionally intelligent. But with the IC, he was set in a role. There was a good amount of dialogue in ACOMAF about how they perceived Cassian, and it could of been friends speaking to friends, but it definitely didn’t seem like it.

But in ACOFAS and beyond, it really felt like the ignorance set in. Like he was made to be the dumb character. I don’t know if that was because conflict needed to be made, because the whole of the IC was unempathetic and that was a theme. I don’t know what it was. But there are many instances that I feel ACOWAR Cassian wouldn’t have been like that. There are so many times where Nesta is so obviously hurting that I don’t see how you wouldn’t connect dots and then change your own behavior accordingly, if nothing but being more sympathetic or even pitying or considering that Nesta is a victim of circumstance. But the theme as I’ve said many times in nicer ways of ACOSF, was “we’re not going to change, you’re going to change.”

Prime examples of Cassian’s lack of emotional intelligence was “Starving won’t bring your father back to life” HHAAHA I have to laugh, and then being given the evidence in three books that Nesta is a prideful, private person and then knowing she is suffering, knowing that she has suffered some sort of assault, which he himself has acknowledged and then bringing her to train in front of a bunch of men who are misogynistic and who’s own women won’t train either, and then being like WHY NESTA? WHY AREN’T YOU TRAINING? Why sit on that rock? and then not even asking her. LOL. Stupid.

And then... the fire. He literally notes in his own POV at least twice that she stays away from it, or she asks to move away and he doesn’t connect that she has some problem with it... until she explicitly tells him. MmmK.

And then with the marriage vs. mating bond, he notes that she is uncomfortable, he says “what spooked you?” or whatever so he knows that she’s obviously troubled in some way and she’s literally trying to tell him, and he’s like.... nah, I’m going to keep pushing and then he’s like “shackled.” Oy.

And in ACOFAS, the whole scene with the present for solstice and her “bullshit behavior” when they literally didn’t talk to her the entire time. They didn’t even try, and he’s over here like “I hope you try next year” or whatever. HAHAH. Cue maniacal laughter.

Like I understand you certainly wouldn’t know what goes on in Nesta’s head, but... is he that stupid to not connect dots from what he already knows? Especially from the male who visited the families of soldiers who died, who mourned them, who felt guilty, who understood Mor’s discomfort in the triangle to be the buffer, because he explicitly says that he played the buffer in ACOSF, so he was aware of the situation, who was actually a lot nicer and sweeter and patient with Feyre, offering in turn to train with him, because he understood the poverty, what she did, the killing of the fae, how that might have affected her, who literally kept going back to Nesta even after she was like get away from me in ACOWAR, because he understood that she had been violated, and no one else validated that except him. Where was the validation in this book?

Where was that Cassian?

He was kind I admit after moments of stupidity in ACOSF, but that doesn’t make him emotionally intelligent. Caring is not the same thing as empathy. But yeah... I really don’t understand why that was his MO in ACOSF, obliviousness... I would have appreciated it more if it was Cassian showing explicitly that he cared about Nesta and understood her pain, even if he didn’t understand why she was pushing him away, if it was less of Amren telling him to keep reaching out his hand, and him just being like No I need to reach out my hand, because she’s been through a war and I have known war all of my life. I’ve been through that aftermath many times. I’ve seen what it does as any kind and charismatic general would. But unfortunately no critical thought went into this book and the Cassian in ACOWAR is no longer.

#cassian #nesta archeron #nessian #anti sjm #anti acosf

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cali-holland · 5 years ago

Text

Golden Bullets, Ch. One: On Her Majesty’s Secret Service

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond!AU

Harrison Osterfield, Agent 007, was once the best MI6 agent around with the astounding reputation as a womanizer. Between illegal gold smuggling and black market trading of weapons, he finds himself deeper in his latest mission than intended, weaving himself into a web of the criminal organization, S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. At the center of it all is the one woman who’s never fallen for his charms- you, Agent 006, the best MI6 agent, the new assistant director of the program, and his new partner.

Word Count: 3500

Gif is not mine

Golden Bullets Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: sexual themes (no smut!), mentions of death/violence

~~~

Harrison still wasn’t quite sure how it went so wrong so quickly. He got ahead of himself with the other woman- he’d admit to that much, but he didn’t think she was with the enemy. Between the gunfight and the bullets, he knew he had been a bit reckless and sloppy, especially with kicking the man off the roof. On the bright side, he wasn’t injured besides a few sore limbs and a couple bruises on his neck from said man that he kicked off the roof- actually, Harrison really didn’t feel bad about that kick, he deserved it.

As he made his way down to Q’s lab later that day, he played with the octopus ring between his fingers. This had to mean something; he needed it to mean something. If it was nothing, then he would have gained nothing from his mission. He knew the deal was off now that his cover had been blown, so really all he gained was the knowledge that the dealer was also a gold smuggler.

“Good morning, Q.” Harrison said, stalking past the glass doors of the lab.

“It’s ten in the morning. I’d hardly say that’s good, 007.” The quartermaster replied, glaring at the agent. He cracked a tired smile, “What do you have, Harrison?”

“A ring. The dealer had one on as well.” He handed over the small silver ring. “So, Tom, think you can run a few tests and see what this is about?”

“Already on it.” Tom placed the ring on a small platform connected to his computer before clicking away at the keys. “How sure are you that this leads to something?”

“Whoever shot the man that was wearing this didn’t want me to get him alive. This has to be bigger than gold smuggling and black market weapons.”

“A criminal organization?” He asked, and the agent hummed in agreement. Tom continued to mess with his computer as he ran some tests on the ring. “M seems rather upset with you.”

“I know, which is why I’m here and not seeing her right now. She had some other business that’s more important than me.”

“Oh no, you’re not her top priority. It’s almost like she has other agents.” He joked sarcastically, before seriously adding, “I heard she’s meeting with the new assistant director of MI6.”

“Who is it?” Harrison asked.

“No one knows yet.” Tom replied with a small shrug.

“Do you have any new toys for me?” The blond asked with a smile, hopeful about some new gadgets from the quartermaster. Tom eagerly made his way over to the closed garage door, and Harrison followed behind him.

As the gray steel door lifted to reveal Tom’s latest work, he spoke, “The Aston Martin DB10. 0 to 60 in 3.4 seconds. I’m not quite finished yet, but she’ll be completely bulletproof and equipped with machine guns and flamethrowers.”

“Oh, Q, she is a beauty.” Harrison sighed as he looked at the fancy gray car. Just as he was about to walk up to inspect it, Tom stopped him.

“She was meant for you, but after last night, M has decided she’s more fit for another agent.” He explained, watching the agent’s face fall.

“Well, what do I get then?” He asked, and the quartermaster handed him a watch. Unamused, Harrison took it. “What does it do?”

“It tells the time, and it’s got a grenade in the alarm, if you’re into that sort of thing.” Tom’s laugh was cut short as the computer beeped, signaling the tests had finished. Before Tom and Harrison could reach the computer again, the lab’s entrance opened and you walked out. With one hand in his pocket, Harrison turned on his charm.

“Well, hello, beautiful. I don’t believe I’ve seen you around before.” He said with his signature look playing on his lips as he eyed you up and down, taking in how your black pant suit fitted your figure perfectly.

“You must be 007.” You smiled, acting unphased by his flirtatiousness.

“Heard about me? All good things, I hope.” He sent you a wink, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“M has requested your presence, agent.” You told him.

“Well, I need to get going then, but I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” Harrison turned back to Tom, “Q, send the results on the ring up to M. She’ll need to know whatever this is.”

“Right away, 007.” Tom nodded, typing on his computer. As Harrison left the lab, he heard you speak to the quartermaster.

“M says you have something for me?”

Harrison made his way to the elevator, taking it up to M’s personal floor. When he walked out of the elevator, Moneypenny greeted him from her spot at the secretary desk. He walked past the large oak door and into M’s office.

“M, how lovely it is to see you.” Harrison said, smoothly taking a seat in the plush black chair across from the Head of MI6.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve walking in here all cocky after last night.” She said, unamused by his antics.

“Trust me, M, no one’s more exhausted than me.” He sent her his best smile.

“Trust me, 007, you’ll be getting plenty of rest in the coming weeks.” She countered, and he furrowed his eyebrows at her words.

“Are you- are you firing me? I was doing my job.” Harrison argued.

“Not firing, no. Your ego’s gotten far too large, Osterfield. You will go on leave for a few weeks until you stop thinking with what’s between your legs and start thinking with what’s in your head.” She stated, and he was doing his best to keep his composure, “This was a strictly intel mission, and now we have to clean up a rooftop full of bodies because of your mistake- and even a few from the street.”

“M, you can’t put me on leave. I figured something out, I just- I don’t know what it is yet. Q sent you the test results; there was a ring-”

“Yes, I know.” She replied, her eyes drifting over to her computer. “Special Executive for Counter-Intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge, and Extortion- or as we call it S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. A criminal organization that I had thought we stopped years ago. It seems that this weapons dealer and gold smuggler is acting under the guise of S.P.E.C.T.R.E.. ”

“So it was something important. I knew it. M, you can’t take me off this mission, I’m in this already.” Harrison pleaded. He had only gotten a small taste of this new mission, but he knew he needed to finish it.

“I have already assigned another agent to this case, but there is another option for you.” She started, and he eagerly sat up, “You work with this agent, but you work under them.”

“I don’t need a nanny, M.” He scoffed.

“No, you need a handler. You used to be one of my best agents until you got so reckless, but your new partner is my best agent and you will work under her orders.” M said definitively.

“Her?” Harrison questioned, and, as if on cue, you walked through the large oak door.

“Q’s not quite done with the prototype DB10 yet.” You informed her, and Harrison looked between you and the director.

“Agent 007, meet the new assistant director and your new partner, Agent 006, Y/N Y/L/N.” M stated, and you smirked as Harrison’s jaw dropped. He was in for it now.

~~~

“Goddamn, how do you walk so fast?” Harrison cursed, trying to keep up with you in your black stiletto heels.

“You may be unfamiliar with the concept, 007, but when a woman walks away from you, she’s not interested in talking to you.” You quipped, rolling your eyes at his scoff.

“How is it you? You’re the agent that stole my title, my case, and my car.” He questioned, trailing after you as you walked out of MI6’s headquarters to your black BMW that would soon be replaced with the shiny new Aston.

“Your car? Q never even gave it to you, and as for the title and the case, that’s not my problem now, is it?” You replied, placing a hand on your door handle, but Harrison blocked you from opening your car door, putting his own hand on it too.

“The DB10 was designed for me.” He argued.

“No, Q designed it for MI6. As the best agent, of course I’d get the best car. And, may I remind you that I’m now assistant director of MI6?” You added, raising an eyebrow daringly at him.

“Sweetheart, you should know titles like that mean nothing to me.” He smirked, his blue eyes shining mischievously.

“In that case, you should know that not only am I your superior in the program as a whole, but I am also your superior for this case.” You smiled innocently at him, making it clear you were falling for his flirty tricks, “Now, 007, if you want to help me get to the bottom of this, you’ll do as I say, and right now, that is leaving me alone while M gathers more intel on S.P.E.C.T.R.E. and while Q finishes my car.”

Before Harrison could protest, you put your heel down on his foot, knowing if you slammed it down you’d break his foot. He jumped back in surprise and took his hand off your car. You took the opportunity to get into the safety of your car and drive off, leaving him alone.

“Ah, shit.” Harrison hissed, holding his foot in pain. Not only did it hurt because they were stilettos but they had to be made of steel too- and knowing Q, they probably were.

Grumbling, he got into his own car, still upset over the whole situation. He’s never messed up so badly on such a small mission; sure, there had been some casualties along his other missions, but those were missions in which some casualties were unavoidable. This mission, though, was simple, just gathering intel, and yet he had to go off with that nameless woman, the woman that then tipped off the dealer’s men. And now, they didn’t know how to get to the dealer, nor how to track him again. All they had was a ring linking him and his henchmen to the elusive S.P.E.C.T.R.E..

And worst of all, he had to have a babysitter along the way. This was a one-man mission, he could do it all on his own but yet he still needed you there. He had never met you before, you were always away on high-stake field work (or at least everyone made it out to be that way), but he’d heard of the mysterious 006 and how she was supposedly the best of the best. Some of the other male agents who had met you called you the Maneater based on how you could easily seduce a man and kill him without hesitation. Harrison knew he had an incredible ability at seducing women, but damn, he still hesitated when one was his target.

That night, he poured himself a glass of whiskey, swirling it as he pondered his next moves. This mission would be a hell of a lot harder than he thought if you were involved because not only did you seem to detest him, but also because you were the only girl who’s rejected him and, damn, that only made him want you more. And the fact that you were so superior to him made you even more of a forbidden fruit. Maybe he’d have his own side mission to this S.P.E.C.T.R.E. task: seduce the seductress.

Just two days later, he was called in by M for an important meeting on the upcoming mission. Arriving early (for once), he strolled down to Q’s lab, hoping that his good friend would give him a beautiful new car to drive- like the DB10 that was his. Q seemed almost unamused to see the familiar blond agent, casually walking into his workspace.

“If you’re here about a car, the answer’s still no.” Tom reminded him, running a hand through his brown hair as he worked tediously over his computer.

“Oh come on, you know she was built for me.” Harrison said, making his way over to the garage door that the silver car was hiding behind.

“No, she was made for MI6 agents and is currently in use by 006.” He corrected, not moving an inch when Harrison opened up the garage door to find the car to be missing.

“Where’s my baby gone?” He questioned.

“I told you, the car’s currently in use by 006, your partner. Maybe if you weren’t so careless with the DB5, you would’ve gotten a car for this mission.”

“God, so first 006 is hired as my babysitter and now I don’t even get a car on this mission?” Harrison let out a frustrated groan- this was going to drive him mad.

“She’s your partner. And since she’s also your superior, I wouldn’t get too annoyed by her having the car.” Tom stated, and the agent made his way back to the elevator, “007, please do try not to ruin the DB10. It’s still a prototype.”

Harrison rolled his eyes, pressing the button to take him to M’s floor, where he knew you’d be waiting with the director by now. After a few moments, the silent ride came to a halt, and he stepped out of the doors to be greeted by Moneypenny.

“Aren’t you looking exceptionally beautiful today?” Harrison winked at her, turning on his charm.

“Oh please, you know that won’t work on me, 007. I heard you’re already fighting with the new assistant director.” She teased, smiling at him.

“Maybe. I never fight and tell.” He replied coyly.

“Get in there, Osterfield. M’s got a big update on the case.” Moneypenny reminded him of why he was there in the first place.

“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten since Q won’t give me my bloody car.” He shook his head and the secretary just rolled her brown eyes at him.

“You had it coming, 007.” She laughed lightly, opening the door to M’s office. Harrison walked in behind her and spotted M sitting at her desk, the usual stern, but loving scowl on her aged face. You sat in the large leather chair in front of her, one chair remained open for Harrison.

“Hello, ladies.” Harrison flashed a bright smile, sitting down in the chair.

“You’re late. I thought Q gave you a watch specifically to fix your punctuality.” M said flatly, not impressed by his casualness.

“It doesn’t quite go with this suit.” He replied, adjusting his suit jacket, and you let out a small sigh.

“M, is it too late for me to ask for a new, more competent partner?” You asked as you ignored the offended look on Harrison’s face.

“You two are the best agents for this case.” M answered, before sliding over two identical manila folders to the two of you. You and Harrison both simultaneously picked them up and flicked through the pages while M started discussing the mission. “S.P.E.C.T.R.E. was a criminal organization that was supposedly flushed out by previous agents years ago. It appears that there were a few stragglers, all of which have united under one crime boss, Auric Goldfinger. Goldfinger has long been attached to a series of bullion smugglings across the globe. The dealer from the other night that 007 was meant to surveillance was assassin Marco Sciarra. The woman that 007 so freely slept with was his wife.” Harrison bit back a scowl as you giggled softly at his choice in women; as if he couldn’t have messed up more that night, he had to go and sleep with the literal enemy. “Seems someone wasn’t too pleased with her adultery- she was found in a back alley by the hotel with a sniper shot through her head.”

“Was it Goldfinger?” You asked, pearing up from the gruesome photograph. The fact that Sciarra’s wife was still wearing the same dress from the other night told Harrison that her death most likely occurred right after she left.

“No. It has to be the same sniper that shot the man I was chasing. That or there were two snipers that night with excellent head shot skills.” Harrison voiced his observations.

“We believe the sniper is one of Goldfinger’s.” M stated, “As we saw two nights ago, a sniper has followed Sciarra and his men to keep them in line.”

“So either Goldfinger doesn’t trust Sciarra to handle the deal or-” You started, but Harrison cut you off.

“Sciarra screwed over Goldfinger.”

“Do we know who the sniper is?” You spoke up, skimming through the next few papers, stopping as you spotted a very blurry black and white photograph of a woman with a sniper.

“No.” M replied. “We only know it’s a blonde woman. And that is where 007’s,” She paused, narrowing her eyes at him momentarily, “expertise comes in.”

“And me?” You asked, refusing to look at Harrison as his smirk widened.

“Sciarra may not have liked his wife with other men, but he had a reputation as an adulterous gambler with a drinking problem. He was spotted landing in Monaco an hour ago. Your missions are to go to the casino that he will be at. Agent 006, you use your methods to get to him, bring him in for questioning only. Agent 007, you will be her protection. If the sniper shows her face in the casino, then you will use your own methods to bring her in as well.” Before you or Harrison could speak up again, she added, “We want Sciarra alive, we need him to get to Goldfinger. And I hope this is the last time I remind you both that Agent 006 is calling the shots on this mission while you two are in the field.”

Harrison swallowed a lump in his throat, but nodded nonetheless, “Of course.”

“Good. Now, get out of my office.” She said, and Harrison stood up, smoothing out his black suit, as he made his way to the door. You got up as well, adjusting your own pantsuit properly as you did so. Before either of you could get out the door, M spoke up one last time, “Also the DB10 is Agent 006’s. You two are bloody grown-ups, I shouldn’t be hearing from Q any pestering over the car situation.”

Harrison shot you a glare as you smiled innocently at him, before you left the room. He huffed running after you, ignoring Moneypenny’s presence at the desk. “What the hell are you playing at?”

“What are you on about, 007?” You questioned, pressing the button for the elevator.

“I want the DB10 back.” He said. The elevator dinged open and he followed you inside.

“It was never yours. It’s a £3 million prototype, only a fool would let someone as reckless as you handle it. Besides, you heard M, it’s mine. Act like a bloody grown-up.” You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. The elevator seemed to be taking its sweet time down to the parking lot. “I can’t believe I have to be your partner on this case.”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” He reminded you.

“No, you just slept with the wrong woman and now I have to clean up your mess in Monaco.” You stated.

“You almost sound jealous.” Harrison smirked, placing his hand on the elevator wall beside your head. You grabbed his wrist and twisted it, maneuvering to pin him to the wall, both of your hands securely wrapped around his wrists.

“Don’t think for one second that I’d ever be jealous of where you stick it.” You leaned into his face threateningly, and he could swear he could taste the cherry lipstick you wore. “You’re very sure of yourself, aren’t you? Suppose I were to kill you for a thrill.”

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, amused, before using his legs to knock you off your balance. Your grip loosened on his wrists, giving him enough time to slam you against the metal wall. He pinned your hands to your side. “Aren’t you a little young to be assistant director of MI6?”

“Aren’t you a little old to be so damn horny all the time?” You quipped back. Harrison pretended to think about it for a moment before shaking his head.

“Never too old for a little,” He moved his hips slightly, brushing ever so lightly against yours.

“You can turn off the charm, I’m immune.” You lifted up your foot, planning to ram your steel heel into his shoe again, but he let go of you and moved back defensively as the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened to the parking lot.

“I’m a quick learner, love.” Harrison said.

“I’ll see you in a few hours. Don’t be late.” You threatened, stalking off to your car, the beautiful DB10. Harrison whistled as he made his way back to his own car. Sure, his BMW Z8 was a beautiful car with a couple neat gadgets (thanks to Q), but it was nothing like the shiny new car that was the DB10. As Harrison watched you drive away in the prototype, he began to think maybe he wasn’t annoyed about not getting the car, but instead, he was annoyed by not getting the girl.

~~~

Tag List:

@viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson

Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series

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showo-todowoki · 4 years ago

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🔮 My name is Lily, I am 16.

🌒 INFJ. 5w4 (541) . LII. Leo ☀, Capricorn 🌙, libra rising.

🌌 Female, Heterosexual. I have an irl boyfriend.

🔮 I am Hindu 🕉️. I also believe in paganism

🌖 My fandoms are My Hero Academia, Supernatural, Sailor Moon. Other media interests: Undertale, the Nightmare Before Christmas

🌙 I self ship with Shoto Todoroki. He is the loml! I have soul bonded with him. I am his soulmate, we are married and spiritually together. I get very lovey dovey when it comes to him. Cue the lovecore. I don't hold anything back when it comes to gushing on this blog. (If you also self ship with him or have a crush on him that's fine. It doesn't bother me, and you may interact with me.)

🌒 This is mostly a reblog account. I've been thinking about making a blog specifically for original self ship posts.

🔮 This is a happy blog, where I rt stuff that makes me happy. Therefore, I will not be talking about politics, discourse, etc. I have listed political stuff in my dni for comfort reasons. I will tell you, I'm not a leftist or a liberal. If you are uncomfortable with that despite this not being a political blog do not follow.

🌖 As for my personality ; people describe me as being an intelligent, kind, introspective, and calm person. I try to be funny and make people laugh. Lots of people describe me as "baby". I'm pretty.... Complex, so it'd be impossible to describe my entire personality in such a short paragraph. I do have depression. For some periods of time I'm completely fine and other times I relapse. Sorry if I come off as stern and overly serious in this introduction, I promise I'm not always like this. I just decided to keep a more professional tone in this post.

🌙 I am also autistic, self diagnosed. If you have a problem with this I don't want to hear it. I have done extensive research on it, I am an intelligent and introspective person, I am capable of figuring myself out. I am what you would call "high functioning" (although I understand that some fellow autistic people have issues with functioning labels). Shoto Todoroki and the fantasy au of BNHA are my special interests.

🌌 DNI:

- NSFW / porn blogs

- Any kind of radfems

- You think sexism towards men isn’t a thing, think saying “kill all men” or making sexist generalizations of men is in any way acceptable, basically if you’re a misandrist fuck off I don’t tolerate that.

- Radical leftists (communist, etc)

- Basically if you’re anything like a stereotypical picrew/anime profile pic twitter user go away please I beg of you I’ve had enough of those

- Joe Biden supporters or settle for Biden people. If you support Biden you’re supporting a pedophile and sexual assaulter! Idc if he’s “”better than Trump””. Before anyone asks - no, I am not a Trump supporter. They both stink.

- Pro-shippers

- You sexualize the BNHA kids or any fictional minors

- You're an adult who self ships with minors or you age up minors for shipping

- Endeavor stans

- You don't like Shoto Todoroki

- you kin Shoto Todoroki

- You ship todobaku (to put it bluntly, I find this ship gross/uncomfortable and it's in my best interest to not interact with those who ship it.)

The shippings tododeku and inatodo also make me uncomfortable for personal reasons, if I follow you please just tag them so I don't have to see them! Thank you. I do not need Todomomo or Todochako tagged, I actually like seeing fanart of those ships because it’s easy for me to put myself in Momo/Ochako’s place!

Please tag posts like stuff from @/dark-self-ship-imagines, they make me extremely uncomfortable. I don’t mean just from that blog specifically, I mean every post that contains themes like the stuff they post.

Other than that, the only things I need tagged are porn heavy NSFW and gore (light blood and blood without injuries is fine). Gore is the worst of these. Don't tag them with //s (ex, NSFW ///) or censor them (ex g//re) please, or the filter wont pick it up. Just tag them normally.

I will not tag any triggers (unless they are serious triggers, like, will actually cause panic attacks if seen) that do not apply to more than two followers of mine for maintenance reasons. Triggers that aren't standard triggers are, alas, too hard to always remember to tag. I doubt I'd reblog any triggering content anyways so I doubt this will be an issue.

Please do not tag any of my self ship posts as x don’t look. I do not ask anyone to tag other Todo self shippers as “Lily don’t look”. Likewise, I will not tag anyone's stuff as x don't look. If this will really be such an issue just block the person I'm reblogging from.

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theessaflett · 4 years ago

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Tiffany Aching: The Perfect Introduction to Witchery

Once, every so often, but not so very often that it stops being exciting, a reader comes across a book that says exactly what they need to hear in that very moment.

It’s a feeling of surprised recognition; of being seen. Someone out there, either the writer or the characters they have created, know what it is like to be you, right down to the fabric of your soul. Sometimes that feeling can be disquieting – the only character I’ve ever read with exactly the feelings of vague existential dread I know all too well did not get a happy ending, which felt like a rather alarming prophesy - and sometimes it can be a blissful relief. That someone, somewhere, gets it.

In my 19 years or so of being an avid bookworm this has only happened to me a handful of times, but every time has been special. The Thirteenth Tale and I Capture The Castle came along in my early teens when I was wondering if anyone else felt slightly lonely a lot of the time and like books were easier companions than people. Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit popped up in my life when I was despairing about coming to terms with my sexuality and my religious background. (In fact, I secretly read it in church during a particularly boring sermon with a feeling of rather illicit thrill.) Shiver appeared as if on cue when I was a sixteen -year- old despairing of ever finding a book series with a sensible protagonist. Just when I was wondering if there were any women writing in folkloric academia I stumbled across Georgina Boyes’ brilliant Imagined Village on a library shelf, and when I was trying to cope with stress and my mental health at university Nora Robert’s Dallas series was a huge comfort as I imagined the protagonist Eve forging forward with an unstoppable confidence and power.

But before any of these books, before any of these discoveries, there was a nine-year-old who wandered around the countryside imagining she could control the weather and who was convinced that there were fairies in the hills. And there was a nine-year-old called Tiffany Aching.

I don’t remember an awful lot about being nine, but I do remember an overwhelming feeling of impatience and mild irritation that people were insisting on treating me like I was, well, eight. Life as a home-educated only child in a sleepy country village suited me very well, and by the time I had reached nine I was being taught about life by a variety of tutors of varying levels of eccentricity. (The art lessons taught by a retired teacher in her front room were perfectly safe; the lessons in experimenting with home plumbing using a rusty saw from a retired photographer were possibly not.) I enjoyed conversing with all these ad-hoc tutors about lots of different topics, and if I came across a word I didn’t know I only had to look it up in the giant, battered red dictionary that was shelved next to the fish tank. (I only regretted this once, when after an over-dinner remark about me from a teasing friend of the family I looked up the word ‘precocious’ and then swore that family friend was now my enemy for life.) Other children my own age tended to find me a bit odd and I tended to find them a bit loud. I liked reading, and writing, and standing in the sea pretending I was a selkie.

…It’s not exactly surprising, then, that when the audiobook of Tiffany Aching’s first adventure, The Wee Free Men, made its way into our car CD player it was love at first listen. Here, finally, was a nine-year-old like me! A nine-year-old that spoke in intelligent sentences – I immediately made sure to memorise the word susurration – didn’t rely on grown-ups and saved the day and the stupid boy at the end of the book. The CD was practically worn out within the year and I still hear the voice of Tony Robinson narrating it whenever I read a passage from the book in a way that is just a little bit unnerving. I re-read it today for the first time in about twelve years for this homework and was struck by how much I wanted to dismiss the possibility of such a young girl being such a capable hero as impossible. My younger self hadn’t thought it was impossible; I’d thought it was practically the only book that showed how smart children under the age of ten could actually be.

Self-identification through the protagonist aside, The Wee Free Men also was my first experience with the concept of witchcraft. As I’ve explored Paganism the last few years it’s been a surprise to discover that the witchery I thought of as ‘Tiffany Aching’s witchcraft’, presuming that it largely came from Pratchett’s imagination, was in fact just plain old witchcraft, very little fiction about it. As ever, the brilliance of Pratchett’s writing came from his real-life inspiration, and the believability of the rituals and supernatural ideas found in the Tiffany Aching series is down to their deep roots in traditions hundreds of years old. I have to say I’m thoroughly impressed with how Terry Pratchett managed to wind his plot round the crucial basics of witchcraft as it’s practised by those in the modern world, most notably the most important rule of all: And It Harm None, a theme that regularly comes up throughout the series. Growing up, thanks to Tiffany Aching, I didn’t think of witches as evil despots who cackled, boiled children in cauldrons and owned flying monkeys. I thought that they were clever, thoughtful women who knew that thinking first and talking second is always a good idea and that it’s never helpful to lose your temper or your courage, and it has to be said that as I increasingly meet witches in real life that seems to be quite a fair representation. (Even if they don’t tend to wear pointy hats, not even mostly invisible ones.)

The Tiffany Aching books gave me a sense of confidence and a sense of identity when I needed it. If I ever have a daughter, I think my present for her ninth birthday is already decided.

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goblin-alchemist · 5 years ago

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Do you have any tips for getting a hang of characterizations? You always do so amazingly, especially with Gabriel!

Thank you!

I have talked about this with a few friends prior, so I'll see if I can put it into words again. This might be redundant to those who remember discussing this with me before, but here we go. I'll focus upon Gabriel since he seems to be the trickiest for people to write. I'll also reference some of my stories to give examples.

Gabriel's primary motivation, in my mind, is Emilie. I default everything back to Emilie. If Gabriel gets absorbed in something and forgets his grief/goals, etc, I have him suddenly think “Man, if Emilie were here we would be able to watch Adrien experience these milestones together” or “I wish I could hold Emilie's hand like Adrien is doing with Marinette”. And then he gets sad again. It's an instant grounding focus for him, and thus leads to renewed determination. “I am doing this because the ends justify the means. I just want Emilie back.” I kind of play with the sunk-cost fallacy with Gabriel, too. At this point, he's put in so much to being Hawkmoth that he can't back out now. (Until I slam something in his face that gets him to stop abruptly, like him discovering the heroes' identities).

So that's his primary motivation. But now to address a lot of the rest of his personality.

The fandom likes to emphasize that Adrien is the face of the company and he has to put on a mask, and only when he's Chat Noir does that mask slip and he's allowed to be his “true self”. I feel Gabriel is also in the same boat. He's the head of his company. He's expected to maintain certain social graces just like his son (if not more so). He's quiet and reserved and polite, but he's not very forthcoming because of fears of industrial sabotage, or revealing a weakness to competitors that can be used against him, or getting taken advantage of (all of which as an adult, he should have experienced at one point in his life). His stoic poker face was developed as a result of his life experiences.

However, we're shown he's not really reserved and in control. Just like Chat Noir, we have canon evidence that Gabriel is as ham-fisted, emotional, and pun-filled as Chat Noir. We see it in every single Hawkmoth monologue, in every time Hawkmoth transforms and gets giddy with excitement that he might win, and with every anger-fueled declaration of vengeance. (The argument of 'are those Gabriel's legit emotions or does the butterfly miraculous emphasize those emotions from his victims?' is a nice angle to play with in fiction as well).

But as Gabriel, he's not excessively impulsive (Miraculous-stealing opportunities aside). He lets people speak their case before forming judgment (more on this in a moment), but once the judgment is formed, it's hard to get him to change his mind. He's stubborn.

So if I'm writing the story or scene from a third-person-perspective, like Marinette, I can't delve into his thoughts on paper. I have to show the audience what he's thinking through other cues. Since he's a man of little words, I'll have him silently scan a room before speaking. He allows people to speak and give them the opportunity to screw up in his presence before he says a word as to his opinion. Once that opinion is formed, however, good luck getting him to change his mind. I have to show this using his glowers, frowns, squared shoulders, and clenched hands.

If something pops up that's great dramatic irony (when he was secretly overjoyed that Marinette designed a Hawkmoth-themed dress, for example), I'll show it as flashes of amusement in his eyes, twitching of lips, the relaxing of his posture, and the crinkling of his eyes. The key here is to show subtle ways of expressing emotions without outright stating that's what's happening, because Gabriel schools himself and his emotions in front of others.

But when I write directly from his POV, that's where the fun begins. There, I can describe his internal monologue, which is inspired by his actions as Hawkmoth. I can have Gabriel sit silent, glowering at anyone who approaches while he observes and dryly comments on everything around him. He won't say his sarcastic thoughts aloud, but he'll be thinking them, and here's my opportunity to channel the exasperation. Somethings things will just slip out because honestly, is everyone around him an idiot?! He'll recover and glower away any funny looks aimed at him, because his intimidation is as much a weapon as his silence is.

Frustrated exasperation is what I usually write Gabriel as a lot of times. As Hawkmoth, he releases that frustration. As Gabriel, it has to be kept bottled up inside and it only comes out in internal sarcastic remarks.

If I feel Gabriel strays too much into the OOC/cracky territory (which happens a lot in my stories, I admit) when I channel a bit too much Hawkmoth through his civilian form, I stick Nathalie in there as his straight man. She displays even less emotion than Gabriel and ends up being a really nice balance when I go a bit overboard on Gabriel's emotional outbursts. A few pointed phrases or deadpan replies that juuuuuust touch upon inappropriate for an assistant to talk to her powerful boss, but she helps ground Gabriel into more of his realistic canon personality instead of complete OOC crack.

He's a man of few words as Gabriel, and he's used to being in a position of power, surrounded by yes-men (Nathalie and the Gorilla). He isn't used to having anyone challenge him. So, he doesn't need to explain his reasons to people. When Marinette was rambling on about why he of all people was bidding on her dress design, he halted her mid-ramble and merely said “I like it.” The end. He keeps his cards close to his chest, and the only time I've actually seen him let down his guard is oddly, to Nooroo. I'm certain this is just a narrative device for us, the viewer, but the fact is Gabriel is weirdly forthcoming to Nooroo and pretty much lays out his thoughts, plans, and analysis on the situation at hand. I use that to my advantage in my stories when writing the Nooroo/Gabriel relationship, and how subconsciously, Gabriel might view Nooroo as a mentor (even if he disregards all of the advice Nooroo freely gives).

He's the head of his multi-million euro company. He didn't get there by being lax and lazy. He has super high standards, and isn't afraid to verbally rip apart his peers if it's warranted. However, he's not entirely unfair, I don't think. He allowed Marinette to defend her hat design in Mr. Pigeon before coming to a judgment on it. He allowed Nino to propose his last-minute plan in Bubbler to throw Adrien a birthday party before he denied it (and then interrupted Nino and got angry with him only after the boy continued to push the point). He allowed Marinette to explain how she stumbled across his Miraculous book before saying anything to her.

To me, the fact he actually went and met with these people in the first place shows a lot about his character. He's willing to hear people out, but he makes fast judgments and doesn't budge from them. People have to get into his good graces right away or it's hard to change his mind later. He has flashes of anger, but its not sustained, because he's already moving onto finding a solution to the problem (like in Volpina when he got that phone call about an issue with his designs). Sometimes, I wonder how much of his anger and irritation is a result of his real thoughts and emotions, or just him seeing an opportunity to akumatize someone by riling them up further.

In this manner, he's calculating, very calculating, and if something reflects him in a poor light its probably for a reason (staging his 'temper tantrum' in Collector). I ignore the canonical inconsistencies toward his waffling degrees of intelligence and treat Gabriel as very smart, but oblivious and arrogant.

I see him actually as very much like Marinette, only bitter and jaded. She's clever and creative, and so is he. The only difference between the two is that life has struck him down with angst. He's lost his soulmate. He's experienced the lows of being a starving artist. He's encountered failure. Marinette has yet to go through any of that.

I could probably go on further and delve into different aspects of different scenarios (his wish, etc) but I think I've rambled on long enough and seems like I've jumped erratically between a bunch of different points :) Let me know if you have any additional questions and I hope this has helped at little at least.

#miraculous ladybug #gabriel agreste #characterization #writing #tips #writing tips #hawkmoth #character analysis

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eddsworld-late · 5 years ago

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The Box Part 2

Or maybe it’s how all of those Amazon and Fed-Ex packages keep getting messed up.

1132 words, 6507 characters.

Meanwhile, back at the Red Army base, Red Leader shot at a target a few times at the shooting range. “What do you want me to tell you?” his A.I assistant, Cindy, retorted, “Your aim is perfect.” “I’m bored,” he sighed, “I just want something to do!” “You could go help retrieve your box,” she suggested, “That could be fun.” He reloaded several of the guns and sighed. “You’re right. Let’s go to Bosnia and hopefully not get shot out of the sky!” He ran out to the other plane, punched in the coordinates and set it to autopilot. He reclined the seat and kicked his feet up on the control panel with a yawn. “Wake me up when we get there or if I need to take control, Cindy,” he said, closing his eyes. When Cindy finally did wake him up, it was because they were headed directly towards a mountain. Tord yelped and quickly took control of the plane so he could avoid the mountain, looking down in time to see the Blue Army base… And a zombie tyrannosaurus rex. He grinned in anticipation as he landed near it. He watched it for a few minutes as it attacked the outside of the base. “So that’s where all of those zombie dinosaurs from that island went...” he mumbled to himself as he began sneaking towards it. Soon enough, he was on it and riding it inside the building and into the chamber with the other zombie tyrannosaurus rex. He felt like James Bond. Suave, intelligent, breaking all the typical codes of conduct, storming enemy lines on a sweet ride... “HEY!” he yelled, “OVER HERE, BIG ROTTING UGLY!” The other dinosaur whipped around to look at him, its massive tail throwing Patryck against the far wall. Tord smirked. “YOU!” Blue Leader yelled, pointing at him from behind the glass. “You bet!” he replied, “Don’t tell me you seriously didn’t think I wouldn’t show up! And in the flesh, which is more than can be said for you and your robot selves!” She scowled and ran off. Tord turned back to the problem in front of him – that is to say, the zombie T-Rex that he wasn’t riding – with a smirk across his face. “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” he said, charging his own massive dinosaur at it. Of course, zombies don’t mess with other zombies. It was a flaw that became more evident after he realized that the dinosaur he was on was actually going for his men. He quickly slid down its back and ran to the now wide open giant door. “Guys!” he called, “This way!” And once he was sure his men were following, he ran off. “Where’s the plane?” he asked. “It’s just down there!” Yuu said, pointing at the landing strip ahead of them. Patryck looked back. “I didn’t know this before,” he began, “But as it turns out, Tyrannosaurs can really haul a-” He was cut off by gunfire from ahead. “Oh come ON!” Yanov cried, sliding under the hail of bullets and firing back at the previously hidden guards with his own two pistols, “Can’t you give us a break?!” Paul pulled out some throwing knives and threw them at the opposing forces as he ran for the plane while Patryck and Yuu ran in different directions to cause a distraction. Tord stopped midstep and just grinned at a thought that occurred to him, that clearly hadn’t occurred to anyone in the Blue Army. There were more zombie dinosaurs. Zombies are never sufficiently contained either. He turned back around and calmly walked between the legs of the enormous undead T-Rexes and followed the trail of blaring red hazard lights down to the rest of the zombies. With a grin, he slammed his hand on the button to let them all out. Then, much like the Tyrannosaurs, he hauled a- When Paul got to the cockpit, he glared ahead at Blue Leader, who was calmly sitting on the control panel with a devious smirk. Yanov quickly joined him. “Can we just call it a day?” Paul asked, “This is encroaching on my smoke break.” Yanov stared at him. “THAT’S what you’re worried about?!” he exclaimed. “So says the guy who took a flamethrower to some guards over the fate of his portable gaming console,” Paul replied dryly. Blue Leader rolled her eyes. “Here you two are arguing when I’m the one holding all the cards,” she said, “And by “cards,” I mean-” “ZOMBIE DINOSAUR STAMPEDE!” Tord laughed from outside the plane, “GET THE PLANE GOING GUYS! I DON’T WANT US TO DIE HERE!” Yuu and Patryck quickly ran into the cockpit. “Four against one,” Yuu said, “I think I like our odds.” “You four just lost against me less than an hour ago,” Blue Leader said. “You had guards!” Patryck said. “And you can make it five!” Tord grinned, carrying in the gunblade, “Now you can either get out of here and deal with the problem in your base, or I can figure out how to use this thing.” “My guards here are expendable,” she said, “I don’t care about them. I don’t care about this base. I don’t even care about Bosnia. I’d rather see you go down.” “I guess it’s time for an epic gunblade fight!” Tord grinned, “Cindy! Play my boss fight theme for me!” On cue, a sick beat and thumping rhythm took over the speakers as the weapon charged up a blast. Paul, Patryck, Yuu and Yanov watched as the robotic body for Blue Leader exploded into smithereens from one blast of the gunblade. “Really?” Tord said, half disappointed and half intrigued, “I was hoping for more of a fight. But I really do appreciate decent firepower.” Patryck took off, shooting the plane into the sky. Once they were safe, he punched the coordinates for the Red Army base and sighed, flopping into one of the seats and promptly sliding out of it. “So what’s in the box anyway?” Yanov asked curiously. “Oh, you know...” Tord said. Unfortunately, Cindy turned his epic boss theme up too loud, effectively covering up his explanation of what was in the box. Everyone was more or less annoyed about that, but they gave in, exhausted from everything that just happened. “I’m glad all of that is over,” Patryck groaned. “Me too,” Yuu agreed. When the five returned to the base, they made a group effort to carry the precious cargo to Tord’s quarters. Tord pried the lid off and they all peered inside. A grin spread across Tord’s face. “At last!” he said reaching in, “It’s finally here!” “That’s what we went through all of that for?” Paul grumbled. “I think it was worth it!” Yanov grinned, “It’s amazing!” “Definitely,” Yuu replied. Patryck just laid on the floor, asleep at this point. “Let’s go try it out!” Tord said. “Let’s not,” Paul replied, “It’s been a long day.” “Whatever, Paul!” Yanov said, opening the door, “I’m off to the training area with Tord!” “Me too!” Yuu agreed.

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stillness-in-green · 6 years ago

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Seven Stars Tea Blends

Ever since I saw that the Gundam Café in Akihabara was selling official, licensed teas with the Bauduin and Fareed family crests on them, I knew I was going to write this post someday.

The calls below (other than the two canonical ones) are based on a sort of ambiguous blend of what I think a café might pick (On the Menu), what the characters would think of their family tea in a world with more surviving tea culture than I suspect the IBO world actually has (Tea Culture), and stray facts that influenced my picks or that make fun parallels (Supplementary Notes). I’m tempted to go back in and make bonus picks for Ein, Isurugi, and Julietta, but for now, I’ll try to keep on-theme.

Bauduin Family Blend: Earl Grey.

On the Menu: Bergamont's rich floral scent belies the strength of the black tea brew with its piquant citrus twist; in the same way, the Bauduin family's comfortable affluence masks their intense dedication and trained skill. Tea Culture: Gaelio is surprisingly fond of tea for a soldier, likely due in no small part to his sister's tireless efforts. His palate is not terribly refined, but he can certainly taste when a brew has turned bitter and isn't afraid to say so. Takes his tea with a lot of milk. Gallus leaves the milk but takes a dash of sugar, and likes his teas brewed strong. Almiria has weaned herself off of both milk and sugar when drinking with company, wanting to seem grown-up; though she secretly does prefer a splash of milk added, she nevertheless has the most refined palate of her family. Supplementary Notes: Earl Grey has a storied history that, despite all its associations with high-class luxury, has some outrageously fake elements to it. I enjoy the way this echoes how very prepared Gaelio and Almiria both are to flush their family fortunes straight down the drain the moment Earth taboos or paternal authority conflict with their personal desires. Those kids look like nobles, but deep down, they are far more attuned to their own emotions and goals than they are advancing the family's standing in the peerage.

Fareed Family Blend: Darjeeling.

On the Menu: While the labeling of Darjeeling is strictly regulated and monitored, the tea itself is a mild, soft black with faint floral notes. This juxtaposition echoes both the Fareed family's meticulous intelligence and their talent for the delicate art of social maneuvering. Tea Culture: McGillis has done enough reading, and is attentive enough to social cues, that he can fake it, particularly for Almiria, but his palate is actually quite poor. He can take or leave tea as a drink--he actually prefers coffee--but weird tea classism is exactly the kind of frivolous luxury he loathes on principle. Iznario, on the other hand, is quite discerning. Supplementary Notes: A fun fact about Darjeeling: While the bulk of black tea in India is cultivated from the local variety of the Camellia sinensis plant, assamica, Darjeeling derives from the Chinese type, sinensis. Literally--early Darjeeling tea was grown from seeds smuggled in from forbidden provinces in China, because the East India Trading Company was getting desperate. I am delighted by the way this parallels Iznario's propensity to more or less steal children to advance his own ends--of course we all know how he came by McGillis, but Carta and Almiria's ties to the Fareed family echo the methodology as well.

Issue Family Blend: Matcha.

On the Menu: The Issue family puts a great deal of stock in tradition and ceremony. Our matcha--rich, astringent, and demanding--is a perfect match. Tea Culture: Carta, with her strict personality, would be startlingly skilled with the whole matcha process, though it would have taxed her patience mightily as a young child. She would be smug bordering on intolerable that she drinks it straight, unlike that thin, oversweetened nonsense Gaelio favors. Supplementary Notes: Probably the least likely in-universe call, as Teiwaz and its associated members are the ones hanging onto most of the Japanese culture in the setting, rather than Gjallarhorn, with its European trappings. However, I can't resist drawing the parallel between Carta's fondness for (even reliance on) established battle strategies, her kitsune tails and kabuki makeup, and matcha, that most rigorously, performatively Japanese of teas. If I didn't go with matcha, I probably would have gone with a good quality white, but the delicacy and subtlety of white teas didn't really seem like Carta's bag, and we don't have any other family members to compare to.

Kujan Family Blend: Masala Chai.

On the Menu: An Assam-based blend, this bold black tea is warmed by cloves, ginger and nutmeg. It reflects the Kujan family's reputation for producing leaders whose strength and easy charisma win the unflagging loyalty of their followers. Sweeten liberally with milk and cinnamon for the young or young at heart! Tea Culture: Iok's father, a man of such legendary prowess and charm that he had a generation of soldiers prepared to die for his children, probably drank this mostly straight, adding milk to sweeten it a bit when he was sharing it with his men. Iok, who has the taste palate of a spoiled nine-year-old, likes it so sweet that the family cook has secretly taken to leaving the Assam out entirely. Supplementary Notes: Iok is actually the person in the cast most likely to know his way around a Japanese tea ceremony, if his talent for kanji calligraphy is anything to go by, but chai's particularities--a widely social drink, and one whose production varies so hugely recipe to recipe that some of them don't even bother with tea leaves at all--make it an easy call for someone like Iok, whose charisma and passion make it easy to miss that someone left all the authenticity in his father's cup. Iok is also the most "exotic"-looking of the Gjallarhorn cast, and chai is exotic enough that it's spread overseas under a name that in its own language just means "tea," making it a likely call from our hypothetical Gundam café looking to find something that's foreign-sounding but not so obscure that it's unmarketable.

Elion Family Blend: Russian Caravan.

On the Menu: This green/black tea blend--oolong, keemun, and lapsang souchong--is famed for its characteristically smoky flavor. Bold and complex by turns, but with a mellow finish, this nuanced brew matches perfectly to the Elion family's dauntless yet urbane heir. Tea Culture: Rustal, like McGillis, has little investment in Tea Culture, though in his case it's more because he already knows what he likes and has little interest in exploring other flavors as a weird rich person hobby. Exasperatingly set in his ways, he makes no secret of the fact that he thinks his family brew is a superior tea, and is happy to lean into the star-faring romance of its characteristic flavor blend (see below). Supplementary Notes: The smoke flavor today comes from the lapsang souchong, which is dried over pine smoke, but folklorically, it was thought to have been imparted to the tea by the smoke of campfires on the long trek through Mongolia between China and Russia. As the admiral of the Arianrhod fleet, Rustal is the member of the Gjallarhorn cast who does the most traveling in the black depths of space, and so the imagery of strong-flavored brews to push back against the cold felt like a natural match. Additionally, while Rustal isn't canonically of any particular nationality, he does share his ash blond hair shade with many an anime Russian, which also influenced this match.

Baklazan Family Blend: Silver Needle.

On the Menu: This most rarified of white teas features a profoundly delicate flavor with just a whisper of natural sweetness. The skill, care and discernment involved in its production speak to the Baklazan family head's light touch and keen insight, honed over his many long years on the Council of the Seven Stars. Tea Culture: Lord Baklazan sticks almost completely to white and green teas; even oolong is a bit over-strong for his palate. He's blind, and so finds quite enough to savor in the milder, more nuanced cups of the traditional Eastern teas. He's a bit busy to mind his family's tea brand on his own, but there's an underling on the family payroll whose only and entire job description is "tea master," who Nemo is relieved to say he's unlikely to outlive. Supplementary Notes: We know precious little about Nemo Baklazan, other than his very particular design--even his being blind is blatant supposition on my part--but someone in that council room after McGillis's coup looked around at a room full of dudes in full riot gear and decided, "Despite the implications of those worryingly large guns, McGillis actually can't force us to side with him." Between Nemo, Gallus, and Lord Falk, I'm willing to bet it was Nemo, suggesting a prudent, cautious, but ultimately insightful man. I also wanted to have a proper white on this list somewhere, and he definitely looks the type to have the most refined tastes in Chinese teas. Silver Needle is, not coincidentally, also the most expensive white tea, which feels appropriate for one of the oldest and most influential men in the solar system.

Falk Family Blend: English Breakfast.

On the Menu: A blend of Ceylon and Assam teas with an added earthy Kenyan, brewed to stand up to all the milk or sugar you could add as an indispensable part of the classic full breakfast. Our stoutest black, this tea reflects the Falk family's pragmatism and resolve in the face of the changing times. Tea Culture: Probably the member of the Seven Stars with the greatest active interest in where his household is procuring its tea, Lord Falk always has time to offer his opinion on a cup--Almiria found him to be quite the educational resource, on the few occasions they ever spoke. He has a generous, adventurous palate, though he feels most at home with traditional blacks. Supplementary Notes: Oh my god, you guys, we know basically nothing about Elek Falk--he doesn't even have Lord Baklazan's distinct design! He has a big medallion of the sort that you sometimes see on Anime Popes, but there's no indication that organized religion figures into Gjallarhorn's affairs, and even if it does, the dude who responds, "That's just a fairy tale!" to claims of Agnika's soul animating Bael does not strike me as a likely spiritual leader. He seems interested in getting to the bottom of mysteries--he's one of the voices pressing for continued investigation into Galan Mossa after the Silent War--but those are literally all of the characterization cues we get for him. I don't want to sit here saying, "I picked English Breakfast because he looks like a guy who never skips a good full breakfast, if you get my drift, hohoho," but, like, if the shoe fits...

#mobile suit gundam: iron-blooded orphans #gundam ibo #g tekketsu #mcgillis fareed #gaelio bauduin #almiria bauduin #gallus bauduin #carta issue #iok kujan #rustal elion #seven stars #my writing #ibo meta #please take this nonsense

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