#AND I FUCKING TRANSLATED IT. several months ago in fact.

[sovamurka]

Congratulations, my second bayana playlist somehow turned into a linguafrankenstein monster because my melomaniac philologist ass decided it was a great idea to put Russian, Croatian, English, French and German songs in one place.

[ava-of-shenanigans]

Translating Nyarlathotep’s names, titles, and epithets into Middle Egyptian for funsies

Middle Egyptian is the version of the Ancient Egyptian language that was spoken from about 2000 BCE (4000 years ago) to 1300 BCE (3300 years ago). I’ve been learning it for several months now, but since I am still learning there are many epithets I just do not know how to translate yet (and I could be wrong even about the ones I think I do know how to translate). Also, I’m pretty sure that the lore around Nyarlathotep is that he was in Egypt in the Old Kingdom, when they spoke Old Egyptian not Middle Egyptian, but I don’t know Old Egyptian so fuck it, we ball.

All the hieroglyphs I’m going to show here should be read left to right, top to bottom. If you want to change them to be read right to left (which is how hieroglyphs were usually read), you just have to mirror reverse them so they face the other way. Hieroglyphs can’t be read bottom to top, however, so you can’t change that. Some formatting changes would be required to change the ones that are primarily horizontal to being primarily vertical, and vice versa.

First off: His name.

Originally, I was going to start this post with a punishingly long explanation of exactly what all this means and why I have all these different variations of the name. I think an explanation like that is necessary to put somewhere on this post, but I don’t want to force people who just do not care to read all that, so I’ve put it at the very end beneath a “keep reading.”

Now for (some) epithets and titles:

“Mighty Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wsr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy weser or uputy user.

“Great Messenger:”

Transliteration: wpwty wr. A way to pronounce it: Weputy wer or Uputy ur.

The “Black Pharaoh:”

There are two ways to write this one. The first is this:

Transliteration: nsw km. A way to pronounce it: Nesu kem.

It means “black king” not “black pharaoh,” but I think it might make more sense to say it this way. The way you’d say “black pharaoh” is like this:

Transliteration: pr-ʿȝ km. A way to pronounce it: Per a’a kem.

This literally means “the black Great House,” since the word “pharaoh” literally means “Great House.” This would be sort of like if Nyarlathotep appeared on earth today in the form of a United States president and we called him “the black White House,” or if he appeared as a Russian president and we called him “the black Kremlin.” The problem with this one is that I’m not so clear on if the rules for stacking adjectives would even allow for you to say this.

Also, fun fact, Ancient Egyptians considered black to be a good colour, since they associated it with the fertile soil beside the Nile. So this title would not be sinister to them. Like if Nyarlathotep appeared as a US president and we called him “the cool awesome White House.”

“Soul (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka keywey netcheru.

It’s hard to just translate “soul” directly into Egyptian because the Ancient Egyptians didn’t just believe in “a soul,” they believed in a bunch of different parts of a soul that all did different things. The part I’ve used for this translation is the ka, because I think it’s the closest to what we might think of when we hear the word “soul.” I think you could make an argument that since Nyarlathotep’s job is to go and enact the Other God’s will for them, he could be considered their akh, but the akh is a very distinctly Egyptian concept and has lot to do with being dead and getting to the Egyptian afterlife, so I don’t think it works well here. You might also argue that he could be their heart (ib) since the Egyptians thought that you did your thinking with your heart instead of your brain, and Nyarlathotep seems to be a lot more capable of thought than the rest of the “blind, voiceless, mindless” Other Gods, but hearts don’t go out and do things for you so I don’t think that one works either.

“Soul and messenger (of the Other Gods):”

Transliteration: kȝ wpwty kywy nṯrw. A way to pronounce it: Ka weputy keywey netcheru.

“God of a Thousand Forms:”

Transliteration: nṯr ḫprw ḫȝ. A way to pronounce it: Netcher kheperu kha.

Also, as a bonus, I noticed while I was looking for epithets to translate that Fungi From Yuggoth calls Azathoth the “Lord of All.” That’s an Azathoth epithet, so I don’t really have an excuse to translate it into Egyptian, but “Lord of All” is also a common epithet for the Egyptian god Horus. If I ever write that thing about Egyptian gods fighting Nyarlathotep then I will find a way to exploit this. Anyway, here’s how you can say “Lord of All:”

Transliteration: nb tm. A way to pronounce it: Neb tem.

Nyarlathotep’s name is kind of a nightmare to try and spell with the Ancient Egyptian alphabet (good for him, he’d probably want it that way). Here’s my long ass explanation of why I chose to write it the ways I did in this post:

Why is his name spelled without vowels?:

In Ancient Egyptian writing, the vowels are usually left out and only the consonant sounds in words are written down (it’s a lot like Hebrew in this way). The Egyptians eventually did create a system for writing vowels, and that was used for words that Egyptian readers wouldn’t already know how to pronounce, like foreign names. Nyarlathotep, coming from outer space, would be pretty foreign to them, but the earliest vocalic writing is from the end of the Old Kingdom. I’m going to use that as an excuse to say it didn’t exist when he was around and just not bother with it, because there is no way to spell his name in any vocalic writing system that isn’t incomplete and/or confusing (there are two A’s in there and one of them is right next to an L and that is An Issue). The Is in the spellings of his names with the eye symbol in them do not count as vowels, because they are actually transliteration symbols for a consonant sound.

The L sound:

The L sound in his name is an issue because Ancient Egyptian languages might have had an L sound in them, at some point, but they might’ve not. Basically: If you’ve ever done one of those things that will tell you how to write your name in hieroglyphs, you’ve probably been told that this vulture glyph 𓄿 makes an A sound. That is only true in certain types of vocalic writing. The rest of the time it made a consonant sound. We don’t know what consonant sound, though, because the Egyptians stopped pronouncing it in the New Kingdom. Our best guess (based on it being used to transcribe words from other languages that we know had L and R sounds) is that it made a sound like L or R, which is why I’ve used it here for the L sound.

Why are there all those variations around the TH sound?:

Ancient Egyptian languages did not have a TH sound, and the Egyptian letter T and the Egyptian letter H did not combine to make a new sound like they do in English. They did have an F sound, so you could just spell it Nyarlafotep instead. However, “hotep” (transliteration: ḥtp) is an actual Ancient Egyptian word. It means “peace.” Many Ancient Egyptian names are the name of a god + ḥtp, for example “Amenhotep” which means “Amen is at peace.” That the Ancient Egyptians would have thought Nyarlathotep’s name meant that someone called Nyarlat was at peace is too deliciously ironic to ignore, and that meaning is lost if you spell it NYRLFTP. The two options to preserve that meaning are to make the T the bread loaf glyph 𓏏 (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlat-hotep) or to try and keep the TH sound somewhat by putting the horned viper glyph 𓆑 in there (this would change the pronunciation to Nyarlaf-hotep).

What do the variations with the eye sign in them mean?:

The eye sign is a hieroglyph that makes two consonant sounds. These sounds are transliterated ir, but that i does not represent an actual I sound (except in vocalic writing). Usually, i made a glottal stop sound, but sometimes it made a Y sound. This means you could use the eye glyph for the consonants YR in his name (and this is cosmic horror, where we like eyeballs and put them on everything wherever we can). However, this might make the name even more confusing to read, because it makes it easy to mistake the Y in the name for a glottal stop.

Why is his name in a cartouche?:

The names of pharaohs (and only pharaohs) were written inside cartouches. And not just any of the pharaoh’s names. Pharaohs had several different types of names, and only the throne name and birth name were written in cartouches. This means it could be debated wether or not it would be proper for his name to be written in a cartouche. However, Nyarlathotep is not actually from Egypt, he’s from space, and at least one of the stories he’s in portrays him as a showman who uses aesthetic connections to Ancient Egypt as a gimmick to get people to come see his brainwashing prophecies of doom, so I feel like he would not care if it was proper or not and would use it anyway because it’s a very recognizable piece of iconography. But if we found hieroglyphic carvings by Ancient Egyptians that warned of the evils of the god Nyarlathotep, his name might not be written in a cartouche and instead be written with the determinative for god 𓀭 after it.

[lilareviewsbooks]

The Goblin Emperor 5/5: I’m Bored and I’m Having So Much Fun

5/5 stars

446 pages

Contains: an emperor that doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing; kindness as like a plot point; court intrigue!!!

The Goblin Emperor has been on my TBR for years, now. I’d heard someone say, a long time ago, that it was a weird book, and that “you’ve never read something like this before”. Of course, my curiosity was piqued. I love weird, funky little books, that turn you upside down and shake you a bit, especially if they’re speculative fiction. So The Goblin Emperor went into my TBR, until this month, when the mood to read it finally struck me and I sat down with it.

But The Goblin Emperor is not best described by “weird”, in my opinion, nor is “uneventful” a good descriptor, either. I think those of you who have read the book will agree with me that there are several big events throughout the story that capture your attention and are major turning points for the characters. However, it’s impossible to avoid, when recommending this, the fact that it is… boring?

Let me be clear: I don’t mean this in a bad way, at all – I had so much fun reading The Goblin Emperor. Nor am I using it to suggest that Ms. Addison’s writing choices were inadequate. I’m using this word because I think it’s the best way to describe what happens here. 

I’ll explain myself: it’s not that nothing happens in The Goblin Emperor, but the pacing is slow. And not in a bad way – things just take their time. We follow our main character in an almost day-by-day basis. We watch him wake up, have breakfast… And at the end of the day, we are with him as he puts on his pajamas and goes to bed. 

And then there is the fact that Ms. Addison takes what I called an “almost anthropological approach to describing culture” in my review of the Teixcalaani Duology, by Arkady Martine. Much like Ms. Martine does in her two books, A Memory Called Empire and A Desolation Called Peace, Ms. Addison takes her time to consider every move in its cultural context. If, in A Memory Called Empire, the most striking element of this approach is the Teixcalaani smile, which differs from how other parts of the world chose to do so, here we see this attention to detail in the elvish language.

In this world, “we” is the default first person singular. It’s the formal “I”, and “you” is the formal second person singular. Watching these characters drop this formality barrier or decide to put it up makes for a beautiful addition to the dialogue and character relationships throughout the book. It also, of course, tells us much about this world and this culture, which is bound tightly by strings of formality and tradition. (And is also a reflection of how other languages work, in the real world. French, Italian and Spanish, for example, have formal yous, as I’m sure other non-European languages do, too. This makes me super curious to see how this quirk was translated in languages that already have this as a feature. If anyone knows, please tell me!)

This almost-anthropological lens, however, adds a stillness to the story that makes it move slower, taking more time in each of the character’s movements. Which, in turn, makes this book a little more boring.

But, like I said, this is boring in a good way. This stillness, this slowness, allows us to spend ample time with our characters, really getting to know them. And the world sparkles around them, made so vivid by this attention to detail, this approach to a fictional culture. It feels alive outside of the pages, like we’ve only popped in for a visit, and the clock will continue ticking when we’re not there.

But the crux of the story, and the reason why it needs to slow down, the most, is our protagonist, Maia. Maia is the youngest, half-goblin son of the elvish Emperor, who scorns him. He is secluded to a remote location with his cousin Setheris, until a messenger arrives – the Emperor and all his other sons have died in a freak accident, meaning Maia has inherited the throne. With no education in politics and no friends, Maia journeys to court, where he will learn to rule.

And although he’s put in this position of power, and finds himself, in several ways, helpless and dependent on others, Maia never loses his kindness. He’s a generous soul who strives to make decisions for the good of others, and this is the axis around which the rest of the plot moves, slowly, forwards.

To really understand this kindness, to dig into it and be aware of its various implications, its causes, it’s necessary to spend quite a while in the company of Maia, as he blunders forward. And what a journey it is! I’ll tell you, “boring” might be a good word to describe this book, but so is “compelling”. When it hooks you, it hooks you, and it leaves you wanting to bury yourself further and further into this world, to know more, to spend more time with Maia, and find out all the intricacies of his language.

Thank you for reading this review! I’m working on a list of similar books, which will be called something like “Books for Humanities Nerds”, so if this sounds like your cup of tea, keep an eye out! Have a nice day :)

[freneticfloetry]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Will I ever get enough of these? No? Thanks to @liminalmemories21, @strandnreyes, @welcometololaland, and @reyesstrand for the tags!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

45. RIP to the lost works of my OG fandom, published on a ship board/archive that no longer exists. (I still have most of them, they just won’t be seeing the light of day. Like ever.)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

368,184. (Again, RIP to all those now-unpublished words — with them I’d be somewhere around 800k.)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

LOL So glad this question is phrased the way it is. Right now, I’m only actively writing in 911 Lone Star fandom, though I have a WIP in Magicians fandom that I fully intend to finish. Historically, I’ve written in about 40 fandoms (36 on AO3), most with a single fic. Thanks, Yuletide!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ashes and Flame (Every You and Every Me), The Hunger Games Trilogy (I get a kudos email for this one at least five times a week. How are people still finding and reading this little fic?)

Lost in Translation, The Losers

Deck the Halls with Daddy Issues, pre-film Avengers MCU

Big Girl Pants, New Girl

Shells of a Long-Ago Lifetime (Faces That Once Were Mine Mix), Supernatural

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

99.9% of the time, absolutely. Comments are my biggest motivation — the serotonin section fuels my muse. If people take the time to tell me they read and enjoyed a fic (especially if they tell me why), I like to at least thank them for that. There have been times when Real Life has been Happening A Lot and comments on the more popular stuff have gotten by me, and I feel weird about going back months after the fact to respond — that Hunger Games fic, for instance, has a couple pages of unanswered comments.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Posted, probably Of All Our Yesterdays. I am typically an Angst with a Happy Ending writer without fail, but the boys of the Black Dagger Brotherhood don’t do typical happy, and Phury is lowkey the angstiest of the bunch.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I’m actually gonna say scenes from an unfinished story, because I think Quentin Coldwater having this happy ending, the way this one happens, is the biggest fuck you to show canon and its creators that I could possibly craft.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I recently got my first hate comment! I posted about it, but I’ve also left it up in all its glory.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do now! Not that I haven’t in the past — I wrote several het scenes for my very first ship, and Quentin and Eliot had some delightful married kitchen sex we picked up right in the middle in What Baking Can Do — but I feel like Tarlos has really helped me unleash my inner smut writer. My smut from Carlos’ POV has a lot of feelings (LOL), but the stuff I’m writing from TK’s POV is a little sillier and dirtier and more fun. With feelings.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do love me a good crossover. Outside of canons I’ve crossed that exist in the same universe (We Are the Ones We Have Been Waiting For, in Jessica Jones/Luke Cage fandom, plus And to All a Goodnight, for two Jennifer Crusie books), I once wrote tens of thousands of words of a ridiculously plot-heavy Roswell/Angel crossover that will forever hold a soft spot in my heart, a randomly cracky and super angsty Supernatural/Grey’s Anatomy, and a minor character-focused Supernatural/Sarah Connor Chronicles, Requiem, that I still sort of love a lot.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

That Hunger Games fic has been swiped a few times. Weird.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Again, the Hunger Games fic — it exists somewhere on the internet in Dutch. And that one, the SPN/TSCC crossover, and an old Dexter fic, Dinner and a Show, have been podficed.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have! An old friend and I once cowrote ~25k of our idea of fluff, which was basically hijinks, smut, and torturing our leading man with a boom box and Billy Joel.

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

For ships that I’ve written… Hmm. I think, before I wrote to build a home, I would’ve said it was a tossup between Tarlos, Queliot, Chlollie, and Jules/Robin from Troubleshooters, but now there’s just no contest. Weewoo Husbands for the win. For ships in general, Tarlos still tops the list, alongside the ones I mentioned, the OT3 (Eliot/Hardison/Parker), Arthur/Eames, Phedre/Joscelin from the Kushiel’s Legacy books, Frank/Karen from the Netflix Marvelverse, Aidan/Sally from Being Human US, and my MCU crack cube of Steve/Nat/Bucky/Sam.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

God, this is such a throwback, but it’s probably Adagio in B-Flat, the Sherlock music porn murder mystery I half wrote and got hopelessly blocked on.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue, I’d say, especially banter. And understanding characters, I guess? I’m good at making characters sound like themselves, whether they’re speaking or internalizing. And, I’m now proud to say, plot. That’s something I wouldn’t have dared to claim this time ten years ago.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oof. Brevity. I have completely lost the ability to write short (and, by extension, to the point). I’m also the slowest writer in the world, thanks to my tendency to edit every sentence within an inch of its life.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

My Lone Star mutuals are laughing right now. Clearly I hate it. 😊 I’ve written three fics that feature Spanish, two sort of significantly, and all my old Firefly fics have some Mandarin in there somewhere.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

OG Roswell. So much OG Roswell. Michael/Liz, specifically, with a side of Kyle/Isabel.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

It almost feels like cheating, since it’s my most recent fic (and the only one I’ve published so far in my current fandom), but I’m so stupidly proud of to build a home. Carlos is such a touchstone character for me that writing him was oddly therapeutic. And I think I’ve said this before, but writing the two of them together was like the evolution of the clarity I found writing Queliot, which was the first time I’d really explored a ship in fic where I loved both halves of the pairing even close to equally — it helped me unearth my Carlos and who he is in my heart, but it also helped me uncover the true depth of my love for TK.

No pressure tagging @orchidscript, @heartstringsduet, @never-blooms, @rmd-writes, @walkinginland, @paperstorm, @mixtapestar, @catanisspicy, and @alrightbuckaroo!

[byzantine-suggestions]

Theodora: A Summary

So, a few months ago, I decided to torment myself by reading Theodora by Samuel Edwards, a deeply questionable "vintage" novel from 1969 that, in many ways, makes Robert Graves's Count Belisarius look tame. I did a whole summary of it that I never posted because it got too long and unwieldy, but I got bored this past weekend, so I went back and edited it down to bullet points and individual sub-parts for more readability. So, if you're interested in Highly Questionable Byzantine Shennanigans, here goes:

The book starts off normally enough, detailing the gossip circulating around Constantinople in the weeks before Justinian and Theodora’s engagement. It quickly introduces several important characters by basically just listing their names and their thoughts about Theodora; predictably, the patricians all dislike her, the other courtesans are all jealous of her, the Monophysite clergy love her because she’s championing their cause, and Belisarius has no opinion whatsoever about her because he’s too loyal to Justinian to give a shit about his romantic entanglements. And *then* the book introduces Narses, and it immediately gets weird. Basically, Narses is sexually attracted to Justinian, to the point of having frequent erotic fantasies about him, and he’s therefore disappointed upon hearing of Justinian’s courtship with Theodora. This is a one-off sentence or two in the intro, but don’t worry, Narses’s crush on Justinian (and general sexual deviancy) will become a major recurring theme. So we’re already off to a great start.

The reader is then introduced to Justinian, who is quickly established as a.) mysterious, b.) devoted to his work, and c.) completely fucking insane. We are told that he only sleeps 3 hours a night and frequently goes 72 hours without rest, and is still somehow completely functional, so “the sleepless one” is a literal moniker. He’s also, inexplicably, a talented swordsman (this never comes up again) who’s so strong that he can walk around without guards because he can defend himself using his sheer physical prowess, and he recently graduated college, having completed fourteen years of coursework in five years. Basically, he’s amazing at everything to an absolutely ludicrous degree. The reader meets him in a flashback to the night he first met Theodora, so he’s presently very lonely, wandering Constantinople and pondering the emptiness of his heart.

It isn’t long before Justinian, still lonely and sexually dissatisfied, goes to the Hagia Sophia to seek life advice from God. Of course, Theodora is in the Hagia Sophia, and he’s instantaneously attracted to her, because of course he is. We are told that Theodora has long black hair and purple eyes like a teenage girl’s OC, her waist is so tiny that Justinian can encircle it in his hands, and she looks much younger than she is (it takes Justinian a while to realize that she’s in her twenties and not, in fact, sixteen. Her apparent youth, of course, makes her more attractive to him.) When Justinian first notices her, she’s reading a book, and he finds this astonishing. So astonishing, in fact, that he basically just walks up to her and demands that she read some lines aloud to him in order to prove that she’s actually reading and not just, I don’t know, quietly staring at paper. So she reads him a paragraph or so, but he’s still not satisfied, so he makes her translate some more lines for him, and it’s just kind of exhausting. Justinian really comes across as, like, an angry nerd who walks up to a girl wearing a Star Wars T-shirt and goes “oh, you like Star Wars? Prove it by answering my trivia!” But Theodora indulges him, then they get into an argument about the divine nature of Christ, and she’s so charmed by his shitty attitude that she decides to follow him home.

We are then introduced to Justinian’s house, which is a decrepit hovel that desperately needs a woman to make it into A Home. (Obviously, Theodora is that woman.) She makes Justinian dinner because he’s too inept to feed himself, Justinian infodumps to her about bread, and then he gets called away to some meeting. When he returns from his meeting, he discovers that Theodora has miraculously transformed his terrible house into a habitable environment, then fallen asleep on his couch. So he decides to let her stay, and she basically moves in with him (having known him for a sum total of a few hours). It has the same energy as, like, someone bringing home a stray alley cat, then adopting the cat because it turns out to be really good at interior decorating.

The next morning, Theodora has someone make Justinian his favorite stew, and he’s like “HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS IS MY FAVORITE?” and she’s like “idk, it was a lucky guess :)” But then the narration reveals that she has been obsessively targeting Justinian for weeks, noting all of his movements in the hopes of attracting him and ending up as his mistress, and, as part of her campaign to worm her way into his heart, she’s been following workmen from the same region as him and observing what they eat so she could use that knowledge to make Justinian meals that remind him of his childhood. Which is so incredibly Machiavellian that it kind of circles back around to being amazing. I mean, that’s delusional stalker behavior, but I respect it!

It turns out that Theodora also has access to some important intel about the general Vitalian, which she got by, idk, being a courtesan and knowing things, and right after she admits this to Justinian, Narses and Belisarius conveniently show up with a problem regarding Vitalian. Theodora is able to fix the problem (to Narses’s envy) and Justinian is so happy about this that he gives her some expensive jewelry, which makes her cry. The entire time she’s crying, he just hovers over her and does nothing, like a creep. And then they have sex, because there’s nothing sexier than crying.

They start living as a couple, obviously, but Theodora quickly becomes kind of a homebody, refusing to leave the house or go outside for any reason. This is obviously weird and abnormal, and Justinian is unnerved by it, so he asks her what’s up. Lo and behold, the issue is the Prostitute Dress Code.

What is the Prostitute Dress Code, you ask? Well, it’s a bizarre, inexplicable, completely ahistorical set of rules that governs what color socks prostitutes can wear. Prostitutes of a certain rank have to wear a ridiculous yellow outfit, and prostitutes of another rank have to wear a ridiculous red outfit, and you can be upgraded from a yellow prostitute to a red prostitute, and it’s all just really stupid. And that’s why Theodora doesn’t want to go outside. Because she’d have to wear red socks. I don’t know.

(As an aside, Theodora has been wearing red and purple this entire time. She was introduced in chapter one wearing purple, even though she was a penniless prostitute at the time. Which kind of takes the bite out of “purple is the noblest shroud,” right? If everyone can wear purple whenever they want, and purple has no special significance to her beyond being pretty and fun, her whole speech becomes kind of meaningless.)

Anyway, Theodora doesn’t want to wear the Prostitute Socks, but she doesn’t want to *not* wear the Prostitute Socks because that would mean breaking the law, and this leads to an argument between her and Justinian, which culminates in him proposing to her. As one does.

That concludes the courtship and falling-in-love montage! If you're thinking "this relationship sounds shaky and Justinian sounds very unpleasant," hold on to your stolas; it gets worse in part two.

[2dkapsddr]

- 《Archive: RHYTHM GAME 2023 RECAP AND 2024 GOALS FOR 2024》 -

Helloooooo internet!!! Welcome to a post that I really should've made a YEAR AGO (this sentence used to say a week ago, but it's been so long since i wrote this that it's now almost the end of 2024 and i still have yet to publish this... will make writing the 2024 recap MUCH easier though, so hang tight!!), but that I've had to delay to catch up on other writing. But now that I have the time and opportunity, now's my chance to finally do this!

So! Rhythm game progress! It's a natural process when playing, of course, but isn't it nice to look back every so often on what you've accomplished between a certain time period? A month, a couple months, a year, a couple years, you name it! Well, for me, that certain time period just so happens to be... a year! Starting now, each year I want to go back to the first day of the previous year and compare it to the last day to see how much I've progressed in 365 days in each rhythm game, and then I want to use that data to create future goals that I want to meet by the end of the year in each rhythm game too!

But alas, since I play so many rhythm games, I need to be cautious about my goals for each one and not make them too extreme (except for the ones I main). At the same time, however, caution is not something I know. So! Some goals may be extreme depending on my aspirations, some may be a little weaker if I don't play the game enough (or if I don't like it), but I'll do my best to meet every single one of them in time for the new year...!

With all of that out of the way, let's look at the 2023 recap first! Cue the music! (play world vanquisher while reading all this)

(NOTE: As it's been a year since I've started writing this, there have been several rating scale changes in certain games that have made some of my original statements inaccurate. Given I have much better access to information now at the end of 2024, and given it'd be weird to translate ratings from a year ago to ratings now, I've done my best to translate my specific difficulty achievements to the new scales for consistency. I might've missed some, however, but it should be fairly accurate to what their ratings are in the present day (notably in Rotaeno, DJMAX, and vivid/stasis). I apologize for the potential confusion in reading some of these achievements, but hope the adjustments can better future-proof this post as I link it in my pinned.)

(Side-note: Due to the volatility, recency, and honestly terrible changes in CHUNITHM VERSE's rating scale, the game's rating and scale will only be accurate to the scale of LUMINOUS PLUS, as I honestly can't make sense of what the hell they were thinking with the new scale and can't be bothered to translate it over. This is also due to the fact that CHUNITHM VERSE replaces recent scores' contributions to rating with scores on new version songs, which I obviously don't have access to, and thus I cannot measure my rating in any meaningful sense with the game's system.

*=- 2023: Year in Rhythm Review!!! -=*

CHUNITHM: 14.55 -> 15.50 Rating (Achievements: 13+ FC, 14 FC, 15 S)

DDR: ????.?? -> 1400.60 Skill Attack (very skewed since i didn't have basic course until halfway into this year, so the Skill Attack rating obtained this year includes Everything from 2022 as well) (Achievements: First 15 PFC, A Fuck Ton of 16 AAAs, First 17 AAAs, First tourney appearance (MOTL5!))

Groove Coaster: ????? (no rating system really, how do i even measure progression on this?) (Achievements: Garakuta Doll Play (Hard 14) FC)

GITADORA (Drummania): 112.71 -> 234.44 SKILL (Achievements: idk honestly i barely played this)

IIDX: 5th Dan (CastHour) -> 6th Dan (EPOLIS) (Achievements: First four 10 clears, First 8 FCs)

jubeat: 472.8 -> 2169.0 Jubility (Achievements: First 8 clear, First 7 SS)

PIU: Intermediate Lv.9 -> Advanced Lv.1 (basically) (Achievements: First S21 clear, First D21 clear)

SDVX: 10.181 -> 15.316 VF (Achievements: First 15 S, First 16 AAA, First 17 clears (and AAA too ig??))

Arcaea: 10.72 -> 11.32 PTT (Achievements: First 10 EX+, First 10+ Clear)

Phigros: 14.68 -> 15.41 RKS (Achievements: Several 15 Phis, Almost All Legacy Chapter Phi, KALPA Folder Phi, GOOD COLLECTION Folder FC)

MUSIC DIVER (NEW!): 0.00 -> 1106.14 Rate (Achievements: Started playing??? SS on an old-scale 10 and 9...)

TAKUMI Cubic: 0.000 -> 18.499 Rating (Achievements: S ranks on 15s and a former 15+, ALL JUST on a 14+ (and FC on another harder 14+), MAX-1 on a 13+)

ProSeka: Diamond -> MASTER (Ranked, EN), Kaiden 11 -> 18(?), Shin Kaiden 2 -> 9 (110 Master APs?) (Shin Kaiden) (Achievements: 200+ Master FCs, First 31 AP, Several 30 APs)

Rotaeno: 7.083 -> 13.563 Rating (Achievements: First Lv13 clear, First few APs (K.Moe & Infinity Heaven IV Lv.11), Bolt's Challenges All AP, S+ on multiple 13s)

DJMAX: ???? (No rating system as of yet) (Achievements: First 6BSC MAX COMBO (Tok! Tok! Tok! 6BSC 4*), First 4BSC 8* PERFECT PLAY/PP (Ask to Wind (Live Mix) 4BSC 8*)

EZ2ON (NEW!): 0.000 -> 4.565 Rating (4K Standard) (Achievements: First 4S Lv.17 All Cool, First 6S Lv.13 No Miss/Full Combo)

vivid/stasis (NEW!): Class 0 -> 8, 0 -> 15986 Rating (Achievements: Several FINALE chart MAXes, First 11+ MAX (Crosshatch [FINALE 11+]), First 13 AC (Credits [FINALE 13])

Whew, that's quite a lot of rhythm games!!! But somehow, I think I've managed to cross off most of my rhythm game progression and updates from the end of 2022 to the beginning of 2024. Some stats may be a little inaccurate, as I may not have properly archived them at the exact start/end of the year and thus have had to rely on images from either a bit deep into 2024, or a bit back in 2022, but this should offer a pretty clear retrospective into what scores I've gotten over this year-long period. I also started playing several other rhythm games starting this year, so those games don't have any ratings from 2022 to start for, and are thus labeled "0.000" at their start or something like that. There's also the potential for missing certain achievements I got in certain games over this time period, so I apologize for their absence if there are any and will update this post in case I find or recall anything important achieved in 2023.

With all that said, however, I think I did a really good job in archiving all of my measurable rhythm gaming achievements in each game!!! And if I didn't, then I'll do better in next year's post!!! Speaking of next year, though, it's no time to be dwelling on my past rhythm game legacy... and instead, it's time to set goals and go EVEN FURTHER this coming 2024!!! This one's bound to be a doozy, as several rhythm games will likely change their rating system and make the goals either easier or harder to get (though that shouldn't really be a problem now as I'm writing this a year into the future), but I'll do my best to set reasonable yet challenging goals for future me to achieve in this new year's time...!

*=- 2024: Steps and Goals Towards The Future!!! -=*

CHUNITHM: 16.00 Rating (Rainbow), 14 AJ, 14+ FC

DDR: 1700 Skill Attack, 16 and 17 PFCs, AAA an 18, Cobalt V (LIFE4DDR), Participate in another tourney

Groove Coaster: FC a few more 15s, i guess...? Not sure how to measure achievements in this game, in all honesty...

GITADORA (Drummania): 500.00 SKILL, Clear a Level 6.00+ chart, FC a 3.50+ chart

IIDX: 7th dan (newest version), FC a 9, HC a 10, Clear an 11, Learn how to Play with Random

jubeat: 4000.0 jubility...? Clear a 10, FC a 7, idk man i don't play this

PIU: Advanced Lv.5, Clear a 22 (any mode), SSS a 20 (new ranking system)

SDVX: 17.000 VF, PUC a 15, UC a 17, Excessive Clear an 18, Clear a 19

Arcaea: 12.50 PTT (Double Star), PM a 10, FC/Full Recall on a 10+, Catch Up with the Damn Story

Phigros: 16.00 RKS, FC a 16, aughhhhh idk

MUSIC DIVER: 10000 rating, Class 8(?), FC a Level 15 (new scale), something else idk... don't play this game enough w

TAKUMI Cubic: 19.000 rating, FC a 15+, AJ a 15, Unlock all unlockable songs and Insanity/Ravage charts

ProSeka: 400 Master APs (Shin Kaiden 38...?), Ranked Master in JP, participate in more tourneys if possible

Rotaeno: 15.000 Rating, AP a 12, FC a 13, Catch Up with the Damn Story (again)

DJMAX: No rating system, no rating goals... but for new-scale stuff? MAX COMBO/FC an SC 15* (4B), SC 10* (6B & 5B), and SC 1* (8B), as well as PERFECT PLAY/PP an SC 12* (4B), SC 7* (6B), and SC 5* (5B), and try to MAX COMBO every SC chart below 15* on 4B

EZ2ON: 15.000 Rating (4K Standard), 10.000 Rating (6K Standard), AC an 18 (4K), FC a 19 (4K), AC a 13 (6K), FC a 15 (6K)

vivid/stasis: 17000 Rating...? Maintain highest class clear, AC a 15+, FC a 16, MAX a 14

...aaaand that should be all of 'em!!! Given I'm writing this at the end of 2024, how many of these did I achieve this year? ...well, honestly I don't know. And after all, I still have 4 days to get to the ones that I didn't achieve yet. So once it's the new year, I'll come back to write another 2024 year in review and another set of goals for 2025 somewhat based on my scores and goals from this year. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go arcade gaming today to hopefully knock out some goals that I have yet to achieve... but I'll keep y'all posted with those scores, and you might even match up some goals of mine to some newly-achieved scores!!! But if I were writing this in 2023... I'd say I was really optimistic about my rhythm gaming this year, and I hope to keep my enthusiasm up and running all year so I can knock out all these bad boys!!!

[velvetvexations]

#prev not like incredibly recently. maybe like a few months back? dimension20 Finally had a transfem npc #and her name amounted to a dick a joke that brennan was clearly v proud of #and people have been pointing out how its fucked that theres p good transmasc representation on drop out and even whole campaigns #about and by drag queens but there are like 0 transfems on any of their shows

God I love you so much for these tags butchfeygela because it goes to show you truly have no idea what you're talking about! I'm going to break down your multiple errors of fact and prove beyond the shadow of the doubt that you need to never open your mouth for the rest of your life.

That transfem NPC was from several years ago when the "13th Zodiac sign" was viral news the month the season started filming. Her name was completely normal but she mentioned that being her Zodiac sign and the fact that she was transfem and it translated to "serpent bearer" was a coincidence. Brennan was "proud" of surprising Ally with a random Zodiac thing she hadn't heard about. Please consider learning about things before you speak about them!

The transmasc rep is Ally. It is literally just Ally and they massively inflate the statistics being bandied about showing Dropout loves tee em ee trans people so much. Vic Michalis and Erika Ishii are regular cast members and Alex Song-Xia has been on two Dimension 20s seasons, but none of them are "masc" and even if they were that is still a tiny number that proves nothing.

There have been multiple transfems on their shows including a couple of those drag queens.

This is separate from the Dropout thing really but if you want to be a good ally to trans women you shouldn't support jokes about how funny it is to be a trans woman that sexually abuses other trans women.

I love Dropout, I really do, which is why I think we need to be pushing on them to involve more trans women, to give trans women permanent roles.

[nat-20s]

me looking at my own post: you could fanfic out of this!

Anyway here’s how I think a typical “Martin’s Poetry Corner” would go!

~*~

Martin: And for my second thing, we’re going back to the poetry corner!

Jon: Again? Didn’t you have a poetry corner last week?

Martin: It’s been well over two months since the last poetry corner, my dear. And just for that comment I’m going to up the amount of the poetry corner. From now on this podcast is me reading poetry interjected with some guy talking nonsense.

Jon: You say that like the majority of our audience wouldn’t prefer that. Also, some guy? I’m wounded! Earlier you were calling me ‘beloved husband’ and ‘cherished one’ and now I’m ‘some guy’? What did I do to deserve that level of downgrade?

Martin: You decried the poetry corner!

Jon: I decried nothing! It was a purely non-judgmental comment on the frequency of it. If you want to do poem every week, I have nothing against that.

Martin: Hmm. I might test you on that. I know the whole point of this thing is to share things we think are lovely, and I do find all the poems I read lovely, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive.

Jon: Oh? And what might your nefarious hidden agenda be?

Martin: I’m certain you’re the only one that would find it nefarious, but I can, must, shall, and will find a poem that affects you. Now, I’m sure the listeners at home would decry that goal. After all Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Wendy Cope, and Langston Hughes all did nothing. He didn’t even blink at “The Two-Headed Calf”, surely there can’t possibly-

Jon, laughing, which severely limits how much he’s able to sell his faux offense: I’ve been affected by poetry before!

Martin: Name one poem you had an actual strong reaction to.

Jon, smugly: It’s almost certainly not one you know. It’s called “Streets” and it’s by this really obscure author. God, what was his name? K was his middle initial I believe?

Martin, laughing: Piss off!

Jon: Well it’s true! I felt something at all of your poetry.

Martin: Liar! I very distinctly remember you calling it ‘almost affecting’! And you declared I was enamored with Keats, which doesn’t even make sense, we have wildly different composition styles.

Jon: You’re working from incomplete information. That tape was from my first read through. It was the reread where they got me.

Martin: Reread? I thought you hated rereading things?

Jon: Typically, yes. But. Ah. It was during the year you were gone.

Martin: Oh. Oh, love.

Jon: It’s been half a decade since then, Martin, I can assure you I’m fine. Though, I suppose reflecting on it, the affecting quality was more to do with who had written the poetry itself. Even now, you could write a grocery list for fun and I’d be hopelessly endeared by it.

Martin: Shut up.

Jon: I shall not! It’s been a hell of a road to get here, I think it’s more than acceptable to flaunt how much I like my husband, especially when he’s doing something he enjoys. In fact, I think it’d be more than appropriate if I did one of your poems for one of my wonderful things next week.

Martin: Absolutely not! Jon, there is a certain level of ‘embarrassing old men in love’ we’re allowed to be in the public sphere, and that would exceed it by, fuck, tenfold? Our quota would be wiped out for the year. For the next five years. No. Besides, my poems aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes and ears but my own, and occasionally you when you’re being nosy.

Jon, with audible shit eating grin: So you’re saying you wouldn’t like to hear your poetry in my voice?

Martin, having a gay panic despite being married to this man for years: I..uh..

Jon: Yes?

Martin: I would..I would like that very much. Privately. Er, please.

Jon: Well, since you asked so nicely. I suppose the poetry corner shall remain yours, for now.

Martin: Thank you for your grand generosity and understanding. Speaking of, should I get to the actual poem? I think I might have a winner with this one.

Jon: Please do.

Martin: So this week I’m bringing a poem written by an, as far as I can tell, unnamed ninth century Irish Monk-

Jon: -ninth century? Decided to abandon the contemporary route then?

Martin: Somewhat? The poem was written in the ninth century, but no one wants to hear me butcher the original, so I’m going to read the English translation by Seamus Heaney, which was done in 2006, so sort of contemporary? Depending how you look at it? Anyway, this is Pangur Bán:

Pangur Bán and I at work,

Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:

His whole instinct is to hunt,

Mine to free the meaning pent.

More than loud acclaim, I love

Books, silence, thought, my alcove.

Happy for me, Pangur Bán

Child-plays round some mouse’s den.

Truth to tell, just being here,

Housed alone, housed together,

Adds up to its own reward:

Concentration, stealthy art.

Next thing an unwary mouse

Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.

Next thing lines that held and held

Meaning back begin to yield.

All the while, his round bright eye

Fixes on the wall, while I

Focus my less piercing gaze

On the challenge of the page.

With his unsheathed, perfect nails

Pangur springs, exults and kills.

When the longed-for, difficult

Answers come, I too exult.

So it goes. To each his own.

No vying. No vexation.

Taking pleasure, taking pains,

Kindred spirits, veterans.

Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,

Pangur Bán has learned his trade.

Day and night, my own hard work

Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.

Isn’t that just delightful? Jon what did you-holy shit!

Jon, voice tight: What?

Martin: You teared up! You’re affected! Fuckin’ gottem!! I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known that the way to Jonathan Sims’ soul was through a poem about a man feeling kinship with his cat. Incredible.

Jon, slightly sniffling: It’s a very nice poem! You read it because it’s a very nice poem!

Martin: Yes it is! That doesn’t discount the fact that I have read poems about love and hardships and finding joy in being alive and it’s the one about the cat that gets to you. Of course. I love you.

Jon: I love you too. Even if you are a bit too victorious over this. I think that will wrap it up for this week?

Martin: Think so! And as we say at the end of every episode, uh, the way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach, but through cat poems from a thousand years ago.

[mrs-gucci]

Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking. 

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense.  But this doesn’t make sense… 

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five. 

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again. 

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair. 

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him. 

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

-

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday. 

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure. 

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone. 

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him. 

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles. 

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue. 

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand.  “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say. 

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator. 

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb. 

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another. 

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit. 

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly. 

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his. 

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom. 

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room. 

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly. 

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling. 

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine. 

This is gonna be a long night.

-

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’. 

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago. 

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you. 

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune. 

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling. 

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh. 

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit. 

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head. 

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless. 

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place. 

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely. 

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you. 

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor. 

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin. 

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms. 

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close. 

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features. 

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace. 

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face. 

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face. 

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out. 

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod. 

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head. 

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer. 

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away. 

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling. 

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come. 

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb. 

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed. 

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together. 

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot. 

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly. 

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs. 

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf. 

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone. 

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons. 

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure. 

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt. 

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you. 

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently. 

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple. 

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip. 

He laughs softly. 

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink. 

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat. 

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release. 

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally. 

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster. 

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry. 

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out. 

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back. 

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes. 

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance. 

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding. 

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts. 

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly. 

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes. 

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate. 

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head. 

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently. 

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you. 

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes. 

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly. 

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head. 

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding. 

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself. 

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you. 

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now. 

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm. 

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently. 

After a short while, he looks up at you. 

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. 

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself. 

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly. 

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail. 

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door. 

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer. 

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open. 

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him. 

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

[elizabeethan]

The Swan and her Handler

Emma Swan was cursed, and the only way to break it is with True Love's Kiss. Try breaking a curse with True Love's Kiss when you're a damn swan.

Yes, it's true, I've written a CS AU based on Walnut the Crane, a crane who fell in love with her handler. I'm ashamed at how idiotic this is. It’s by far the dumbest thing I've ever written in all my life. It’s nothing more than crack written in about an hour, un-betaed and barely edited. Sorry, and you’re welcome.

Rated T for language

~2000 words

Read my other stuff

Read on Ao3

These damn idiots can’t get anything right. It was bad enough when Emma showed up on their doorstep with perfectly clear care instructions that were completely ignored, but now they keep trying to get her to reproduce as if she’s some kind of zoo animal. 

  Of course, given her current living situation, it does make at least a tiny bit of sense. 

  Ever since the curse, Emma has been stuck in a wildlife refuge and has been unable to get any of her stupid caretakers to figure out how to help her. She knows exactly what she needs, but unfortunately, no one here speaks swan and she can’t exactly hold a pen. Her care instructions were translated upon her transformation, so the one thing that could have helped her now looks like chicken-- er, swan scratch. 

  “She needs a mate,” one of the jack asses points out. “She’ll probably want to mate for life.”

  True, she thinks, although, not with any of the stinky fluff balls you have sent my way.  

  First it was Neal. He tried to mate with her, so she killed him. Last week, they put Walsh in her enclosure, and she pecked at him violently until they took pity on him and sent him to the medical unit. 

  Although today seems different, because her newest caretaker has shown up, and she realizes that he just might be exactly what she’s been looking for. 

Emma Swan, unfortunately very appropriately named, requires a mate who can break her curse, True Loves Kiss the only thing that can bring her back to her truest form as a human adult woman. And when the new dark haired, stunning eyed veterinarian comes strutting into her enclosure, she hurries towards him to get a closer look at his name tag. 

  He jumps away, making some comment about her being fiery , and she blushes, squawking at him as she tries to get closer. Killian , it reads, and if she had lips and not a bill, she would smile. 

  “We think she’s depressed,” the stupid one with the big eyes says. “She’s killed every mate we’ve tried to pair her with.” 

  Good, she thinks. I must have done more damage on Walsh than I initially thought.  

  “You’re just misunderstood, aren’t you, love?” the angel-man asks, making her squawk in agreement. She thinks she could make this quick, this man obviously understanding her horrible twist of fate, so she lunges for him once more, trying hard to kiss his hand and hoping beyond hope that it will transform her back into the woman she's supposed to be. No more feathers, she prays. 

  He exclaims again, jumping and complaining of his hand hurting as she pecks him, so she rolls her eyes and squawks angrily. “Alright, darling,” he says with his hands up, his smooth, accented voice making her heart flutter inside her chest. Her breast? She knows very little about swan anatomy, despite having been turned into one. “Perhaps she’s stressed about her environment. Have you tried giving her a dark, quiet place to nest?” 

  “Not yet,” the dumbass admits. 

  The handsome one, Killian, a name she could get used to rolling off of her tongue, steps away from her, so she hurriedly follows. “Perhaps here in this corner will do.” 

  I would love to spend time in a dark corner with you, she thinks, giving the man what she hopes is a salacious smirk. She watches appreciatively as he sits down, crossing his legs as he starts to fiddle with some sticks as if she would be interested in them. Rather than helping him to make a nest out of the twigs and leaves, she plops herself right in his lap, nestling herself into his crossed legs and gazing up at his beautiful features, earning a smile from him. 

  “There we are, love,” he says happily, clearly surprised that she chose to plant herself upon him, although he shouldn't be. Just look at him, for god’s sake. “Comfortable?” 

  She squawks loudly, making him cringe, then fluffs her feathers in an attempt to gussy herself up for him. If she’s going to earn True Love’s Kiss from this perfect specimen, she’s going to have to work for it. The man chuckles as he looks down at her-- is he gazing? -- and lifts his hand slowly, placing a finger gently upon the top of her head and petting back down her neck, sending a chill down her spine, at least she thinks it’s her spine. She pushes her head towards him again, demanding more attention in an effort to get him to fall for her. It shouldn’t take long; she’s very enchanting. 

  “She’s never been this calm,” the dumb one says, making her snap her head towards him with a glare, shouting at him in disapproval. Killian shushes her soothingly, his finger softly stroking along her stupid feathers once more and making her shut her eyes. 

  “She just needed a bit of attention, it seems.” 

  “We’d best be careful,” someone else says, the bookworm who always thinks she knows everything about swan science. Of course, she probably knows more than Swan Emma. “We wouldn’t want her to imprint on you ,” she seems to joke. 

  “That’s quite alright, isn’t it love?” he asks her, essentially giving her permission to fall in love with this handsome bastard. 

  He comes by a few times a week for the next several months, each time sitting with her in her tiny, dirty nest and not seeming to care that his pants get soiled. She’s always careful to do her business elsewhere, making sure that her prince can sit in comfort when he arrives. She gets angry with him when he brings someone new, a sickly looking male named Graham who she assures is not welcome, so Killian gives up trying to get her to mate with someone. For some reason, they're concerned about her procreating, but she can assure everyone that she will not be giving birth to a damn swan baby while she’s under this curse. 

  One day, when Killian visits near the end of his shift, he’s finally alone, leaving behind the dumb one and the book worm and giving her all of the attention she desires as his strong hand softly pets along her soft feathers. She can’t wait to get rid of these stupid feathers. 

  “You’re quite funny,” he remarks as the sun starts to set. “Unlike any swan I’ve ever met.”

  She squawks at him-- I’m not a damn swan-- and he smiles. “Quire the personality. It always seems like you’re trying to communicate with me.” 

  Yes, you stupid handsome man, that’s exactly right! She tries to nod, lifting and dropping her head in quick succession and making the beauty laugh. She nudges her head against his hand in demand of more pets. 

  “What is it you want me to know, darling?” he asks gently, his voice soft and soothing and deep. 

  She groans, a sound that comes out like a pained cry, and his face shifts. “Are you alright, love?” 

  In pure frustration, Emma drops her head against the man’s chest, likely assaulting him with how badly she smells like bird shit, and he chuckles again, letting his hand run along her feathers some more. “There, there. I know life as a swan must be difficult. All you seem to want is for someone to listen.” 

  She looks up, hoping that her expression conveys her complete and utter irritation at the fact that he’s literally hitting the nail on the head and yet he has no idea. 

  “Such a personality,” he says again. “I’ve got to head home now, love. I’m looking forward to having Chinese for dinner. Perhaps I'll bring you an eggroll tomorrow, or is that insensitive?” 

  She squawks, half because she’s laughing, and half because she would quite literally kill another potential mate for an eggroll. Wanting to beg him not to go, she gives him her best sad face through her inability to emote, and nestles her head against his palm one more time. 

  “I’ll sneak you one, love,” he laughs, and as he does, he finally, finally , leans down towards her, and plants his stupid, dumb, lucious lips upon the top of her stinky bird head. 

  Cramps start to run through her whole stupid bird body, the same ones she felt when she was cursed on Halloween decades ago. He stands, not seeming to notice her pain and discomfort until he’s a few steps away, and he turns back around. “Swan, are you alright?” he asks, as if she could answer, and she shouts back at him wordlessly. 

  She praises whatever gods might be listening as she feels things start to change, her feathers shedding as her skin is exposed to the chilly fall air. The webbing between her toes retracts, her legs turning flesh colored rather than that horrifying orange. Her bill turns back into her nose and mouth, preparing her to smooch her savior rather than peck at him. Finally, she’s back!

  “Bloody fucking hell,” Killian breathes as he stares on, Emma transforming back into her old self, laying in a heap on the ground as she brushes off the dirt and twigs and leaves. 

  “You did it,” she praises before clearing her throat, raw from misuse after all these years. She grins at him as she’s been wanting to since they met, and is met with a horrified, shocked look on his face. His jaw is gaping, his eyes wide as they catch the light of the setting sun. “I knew you would.” 

  “What the fuck?” 

  “You broke the curse,” she says happily, standing up and exposing her nude form to him, cursing the lack of feathers although she vowed she never would. Immediately, he removes his jacket, despite his shock still clearly running through him, and hands it to her. 

  “I did what now?”

  “I was cursed. Why do you think I was such a miserable swan?” 

  He’s looking around, his mouth snapping shut and dropping open in succession as he tries to process the fact that there was a swan in the enclosure just a second ago, and now there’s a frankly beautiful, naked woman standing before him. “You were cursed,” he says doubtfully. 

  “Yes, I was. An evil witch cursed me on Halloween decades ago and I've been stuck in that infernal bird form ever since. All I needed was True Love’s Kiss to break it, but imaging trying to fall in love with someone as a damn bird.” 

  “So you… you fell in love… with me…?” 

  “Obviously,” she smiles, taking a step towards him on shaky legs, tripping and falling into his waiting arms as he catches her, careful not to grope her, although she isn’t sure she would mind. “And you broke the curse, so… Do I have to tell you what that means?”

  “I-- I’m having a lot of trouble processing the fact that I've evidently been in love with a swan for months.” 

  “Well, my name is Emma Swan, so you can be in love with a Swan for the rest of your life, if you’d like.” 

  “Emma,” he murmurs, staring into her eyes and smiling when he seems to recognize her. She’s never been able to see herself in the mirror, because the book worm was worried she would attack it, but based on the way he’s staring, she would guess that the evil witch let her keep her eyes. “Do you know it just happens to be Halloween tonight?”

  “Kismet,” she says softly, gazing up at him. He lifts his hand like he did while she was planted in his lap, and she’s finally able to feel his calloused finger along the skin of her cheek, then of her neck, just as he had done before. 

  “Aye,” he agrees. “The spirit of the holiday does make this whole thing a bit easier to accept.” 

  “Yeah,” she says dismissively. “Now take me home. I was promised an eggroll and I haven't eaten anything but grass and stale bread in almost thirty years.”

~~~~

Tagging (with apologies):

@courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @daxx04 @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @therooksshiningknight @eeteeaytay @xsajx @itsfridaysomewhere @alexa-fangirl-forever @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @rapunzelsghosts @spaceconveyor @badcats-andmice @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @pirateprincessofpizza @captainswan21 @hookedmom @lostintheskyfaraway @undercaffinatednightmare @strangestarlighttree

[jgukmilk]

he won’t know 03 (m) final

➔ summary: after weeks of hiding from the world, your friend, Mina, finally convinces you to crawl out of your cave and join her at a friday-frat party. You definitely didn’t think you’d end up with the person you had spent several weeks trying to avoid. 

➔ pairing: Jungkook X Reader

➔ genre: cheating!au, smut, angst if you squint, much deserved fluff fucking finally

➔ warnings: mention of sexual assault, unprotected sex, soft sex because i’m a whore for that shit, jungoo is the one crying in this part, jungoo being a soft idiot nothing out of the ordinary, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), handjob, fingering, mild dirty talk, cervix kisses :), cum eating, throat fucking•_•, runny mascara because it’s chef’s kiss, soft dom jungoo, a really lame biology pick up line at the end that i am pathetically proud of, that’s it..? it’s unedited btw :P

➔ wordcount: 8.3k

➔ a/n: this was a bitch to finish but holy fuck. hope you enjoy ;) feedback is always appreciated !

part 1, part 2, part 3 final.

It had officially been seventeen and-a-half days since Jungkook came to visit you at your dorm, only to end up in you crying your eyes out in front of him and shove him out of your room.

Mina came home later that night and questioned your tear-stained cheeks. Did you tell her? No, of course not. You brushed it off and convinced her that you were having a hard time with the breakup with Jaehyun, that everything was still so fresh, and you simply just needed time. Though that was as far from the truth as it could possibly be, she believed you regardless which you were thankful for.

You didn’t miss Jaehyun, not one bit. You hadn’t seen him after your last encounter, and you thanked your stars daily. To be honest you weren’t given a chance to run into that asshole since you had reduced your time spent outside of the dorm.

Your schedule pretty much consisted of wake up, go to your classes, come back to the dorm, study, eat, sleep, repeat. It sounded like one of those shabby T-shirt every twelve-year-old would wear back in middle school and show it off for being ‘quirky’.

You weren’t complaining, you preferred things this way, for now at least. Though you couldn’t deny that you missed your friends, but you needed some time alone and you knew that, so to distract yourself from missing your friends, what better way to do so than studying till the ass-crack of dawn on a Friday night.

Fridays were the only day of the week you could spend peacefully unbothered. Every other day would consist of countless texts and calls from your friends asking about your whereabouts and why they almost never saw you around campus anymore.

To which you told them you were busy studying and thanked them for checking in on you. It wasn’t a complete lie, you were, in fact, busy studying. They never saw you because, you were always on your desk burying your face between the pages of a textbook. What you didn’t tell them was that you were so far ahead with the curriculum that you could go a whole two weeks without even touching any of your books and you wouldn’t be behind.

You never realized how much you had read ahead until a few days ago when your biology professor had only begun to teach you about DNA replication, transcription and translation. You had already covered half of it. 

Your professor always did say that the unspoken rule of studies was to always read ahead. Though you didn’t think he meant to this certain extent.

You hadn’t felt academic stress in a while due to your habit of studying so much, and you were happy about it of course, but holy fuck, you were so bored, and it was starting to get to you.

“Y/N!” perfect timing for your best friend to break you out of your thoughts. Mina happily pranced through your shared dorm room and over to you, “Mina” you said back, smiling, although not in the same enthusiasm, meh – A for effort. 

“Oh my god, you’re actually awake,” she said, placing herself on her bed while remaining eye contact with you.

“Well yeah, I have some topics I still need to cover before I go to bed,” Lies. You certainly didn’t have any topics you needed to cover. You would’ve gone to bed if you knew Mina was coming back to the dorm so early. It was Friday night after all, which meant that Mina was out partying with the rest of the guys. Not today, apparently.

“Isn’t there a party today?” you asked, flipping through the pages of the book in front of you, pretending to read through the paragraphs that seemed like nothing more than dull words.

“Well… yeah, but, I figured I’d rather spend my night with you – you know, since it’s... it’s been a while,” you immediately stopped fiddling with the paper, “oh,” was all you could say. “I-I mean, if you wanna study, you totally can! I don’t want to interrupt or – or anything.” You shook your head, “no, no… uhm, I could use a break anyway.” Her face relaxed.

“So… how’ve you been?” you looked around the room, “I’m okay, just studying, nothing else really,” you reassured her “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” she said, barely above a whisper, however you could still make out the melancholic tone hidden behind her voice.

“yeah… I’m sorry, I’m just – “

“studying? Yeah that seems to be your entire world lately.” She cut you off, her voice a little louder than it was previously. You opened your mouth to respond but – “Y/N c’mon, I know I haven’t necessarily been with you physically lately, but I’m not oblivious. Our exams are in a couple of months and you’re studying as if they’re tomorrow.” She explained all in one breath, “the curriculum this semester isn’t even that content-heavy, even the professors told us we could take it easy.”

“where are you going with this?” you asked in a weak voice. She seemed to have you all figured out. You truly underestimated how well your best friend understood you. “I just want to know why? Why are you avoiding your friends… why are you avoiding me?”

And then it came back. Everything you had been trying to avoid for the past two weeks came back. Jaehyun, the cheating, the assault, Jungkook. You began to feel your eyes stinging, subconsciously you averted them towards the ceiling. “Y/N, there’s something you’re not telling me. I want to help, please let me help.”

You made your way towards the bed, seating yourself next to her, “is this about Jaehyun? Do you miss hi–“

“No, God no I don’t, I’m so happy he’s out of my life,” she looked at you perplexed. And so, you told her. You told her absolutely everything, all the way from Jaehyun trying to touch you when you were trying to explain yourself to him, to the conversation you had with Jungkook in your dorm room several days ago.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you swiftly reached for her hand as you saw her attempt to rush out of your shared dorm, “no! I… It’s over now, he’s out of my life, there’s no reason to go look for him.”

“Of course there is! Why didn’t you–!” She yelled, however quickly stopped herself to calm down. “Why didn’t you tell anyone? He’s getting away with this when he deserves to rot in hell.” It wasn’t that simple. You never wanted to see him again, and telling any form of authority about what had happened certainly meant you were going to cross paths with him often.

Plus, it wasn’t even likely that they would’ve believed you, after all it was your word against his. There was no physical evidence of what he had done. You had your ripped clothes but you threw those away the day after the incident, you never wanted to look at them again and be reminded of this crap.

Then you had the bruises on your wrist, but Jaehyun could easily say that you guys had been into some sort of bdsm to make them believe him. They were also healed now, so there was no evidence at all to secure your side.

“I don’t want to constantly be reminded of what he did, I just want to move forward. Please, you can’t tell anyone.” Your voice cracked at the end, in which Mina reached out to hold your hand. “I don’t want anyone to know,” you cried.

“I’m so sorry, bug,” Mina rubbed your back empathetically, in a subtle attempt to calm you down. Though Mina tried her best to not scream at the top of her lungs, spitting out every profanity to curse Jaehyun. This wasn’t about her, and she knew that very well.

All she could do was comfort you and listen to everything you had bottled up for weeks. “You know what you need?” she smiled at you gently. You sniffled, rubbing your red, tear-stained cheeks, “what?”

“You need fresh air, to doll up and feel good! We all miss you so much Y/N, I don’t want you to spend another Friday night in here alone by yourself.” You raised an eyebrow, silently urging her to continue, “Wooyoung’s parent are out of town for the weekend so he’s hosting are party.”

“And?”

“And we’re going!” she clapped excitingly, “no Mina I–“ she held both your hands tightly, puppy eyes were presented right in front of you, “pleaseeee, just for an hour, you can leave after that if you don’t like it.” 

You thought about it for a moment. You did deserve a break, you needed to get out of the dorm anyway, have some fun with your friends, maybe even get a bit of well-deserved alcohol in your system.

“Fuck it, let’s do i–“

“YES! Okay, okay I know exactly what you’re wearing.” She rushed over to her closet, rummaging through fabric after fabric while you silently watched behind her, seated on your own bed. “Put this on right now,” You didn’t get a good look at the clothing item she threw at you, all you knew was that the fabric was quite tiny. It was a beautiful dark navy and black fabric that was smooth to the touch.

It was a woolen, striped bodycon dress. True to its name – it looked very tight. You looked at her perplexed, “that’s me being nice. My other option was throwing you my skirt that would barely cover your juicy ass.” You rolled your eyes, but smiled nonetheless, “fine, what shoes with?” she pointed at your black high-top converse that were placed neatly by the door. Alright, black converse it was.

–

“Y/N?” was the first thing you heard when walking through the door, entering the crowd of drunks. Before you stood your friends, the friends you had missed oh so much. Jimin was the first to run to you, lifting you off the ground to swing you around, “Y/N!” He laughed excitingly. Right behind him stood Seokjin, “Okay, I’ve had too much to drink guys I’m starting see Y/N,” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Hi Jin.”

One by one, they each gave you a heartwarming hug. Wow, you missed them, and you didn’t even realize, “about time you got out of the damn dorm,” Taehyung complained, you playfully slapped his shoulder. “You don’t get to say shit, you rot in your own dorm just as much as I do when you don’t have classes,” smiling, he scoffed, “I have altered my ways, about time you did too,” you shook your head.

You hadn’t noticed that an hour had already passed by, and you didn’t want to leave one bit. Your night was just getting started. Looking around you spotted all your friends, all but two. Neither had you seen the entire party: Yoongi and Jungkook.

“Jin!” you loudly spoke through the banging music, “yeah?!” he replied, “have you seen Yoongi?” you cupped your mouth in attempt to speak as clearly as possible, “What?! No thank you! I don’t wan’t Oolong tea. There’s booze why would I want tea?!” You rubbed your face, dragging Jin’s ear closer to your mouth, “Have you seen Yoongi?”

“OW, Jesus woman.” He rubbed his ear, “He should be in the kitchen,” you thanked him, and apologetically smiled for almost ripping his ear off.

You skipped your way through the heavy crowd of drunk youth. Some of which even looked younger than that. A string of ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ was heard from you as you pushed your way to the kitchen.

“Yoongi?” he turned around, seeing you. He eyed the drink in his hand that resembled the color of piss, “I’ve had too much,” the bottom of the cup now faced the ceiling, the remainder of the liquid spilling down the edge of the cup and down the sink.

“Okay, you guys really have to stop doing that,” you laughed.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” The mint-haired boy asked in a monotone, your smile faltered.

“I’m happy to see you too?” your voice was skeptical. He seemed annoyed, which frankly, you didn’t understand. You hadn’t seen the man in well over two weeks, no way had he found a reason to be mad at you unless you had happened to eat the last lamb skewer in his dream. He always did love his lamb skewers.

“’M sorry, my head’s spinning,” instantly your suspicion was replaced with worry. You quickly made your way to the sink and filled a glass with cold water and handed it to him, which he gratefully accepted. “How’ve you been?”

You sighed, “you want the rainbow-sprinkled version or the one that was dragged through the mud, shat and pissed on,” he couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’ll take the piss-stained version, thank you.” He placed the red, water filled plastic cup next to him on the kitchen counter.

“Rough couple of weeks. I’m doing better though, so that’s something.” You shrugged your shoulders. Yoongi listened carefully, gently tilting his head to the side anticipating for you to keep going, however you didn’t, that was all you were going to say. Yoongi wasn’t stupid, clearly something had happened to make you disappear for weeks, but whatever it was it had to remain unknown for him – he wasn’t going to push you to talk to him.

“And where’s Jaehyun been through all of this?” he speculated.

“Uhm, we broke up,” you tried to laugh it off. His brows raised in surprise.

“Oh, well, I’m sorry–“ your hands swung in front of you to shake them. To Yoongi, you had most likely looked like you were sad from the breakup, understandably so. Afterall that is the typical reaction to a breakup, isn’t it?

“Don’t be! My god, no. It could – I’m not –“ you closed your eyes, sighing gently, “It was for the best.”

-

“I’m not going, Tae,” Jungkook pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger, attempting to rub the non-existing headache out of his temples.

“Come on, Jungkook. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve partied with all of us,” a hot minute, was putting it lightly. Jungkook was currently in his own shared dorm with Taehyung, with a black DualShock controller seated in his lap – enjoying a game of overwatch shortly before Taehyung had dialed his number. Several empty packets of ramen placed randomly across the room. 

Different flavors of course. Variety was important.

“Can’t. ‘m busy.” Though Jungkook couldn’t see it, he was sure Taehyung had rolled his eyes through the other line. “Busy my ass,” Taehyung sighed, “you do this every week.”

“I wouldn’t have to do this every week if you would just stop asking,” Jungkook spat back, with a little more attitude than he had intended. “Jungshi,” the older friend started, “you can’t let this bother you forever,” he knew. Fuck, no one knew better than Jungkook that he couldn’t spend the rest of eternity sulking over this. Over you.

But no one knew how Jungkook was feeling either, every living fiber of his felt either conflicted or guilty. He couldn’t help but think that what had happened to you, was partially his fault – no, it was entirely his fault. Whatever Jaehyun had done was because of Jungkook.

Your words circled back and forth in his mind, day and night. Whenever he closed his eyes all he could see was your tear-stained orbs looking at him with so much hurt and hatred. Telling him to leave and that you never wanted to see him again.

All he wanted to do was talk to you, to know how you were feeling. Were you okay? Were you not? Jungkook had to make peace with the fact that he might in fact never get any answer for any of his questions. All he wanted was to see you, just for one small, useless moment.

He hadn’t seen you since that day. Frankly, it seemed like you had completely vanished from the face of the earth, even the guys hadn’t seen you. He managed to get a hold of Mina a few times, briefly asking of your whereabouts. She always tried her best to console and reassure him that you were okay, you were just always busy lately.

Busy.

You were always busy. Jungkook wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly what it meant: you were escaping.

Busy.

Oh, how Jungkook had grown to hate that word. How very hypocritical of him, he was mentally scolding you for using the lame excuse of being ‘busy’, all while doing the exact same behind the screen of his phone to his best friend.

“I just need time, hyung.” Jungkook tried to justify. “Time?” Taehyung scoffed, “You’ve had two weeks. I’m sorry Guk, but I’m not gonna sit around while I watch you completely lose yourself.” The younger slid further down the chair, staring blankly at the bright screen displaying the home-screen of his favorite video game.

“She’s here.”

Silence…

You… you were there? He could see you. Jungkook had a chance to see you. “Good to know,” was all he could say. “And you don’t give a rat’s ass?” Of course, he did, but he couldn’t because, “she doesn’t want to see me, hyung. If I show up, I’ll ruin her night. She isn’t hiding from the world anymore.”

“You can’t be sure– “

“Yes, I can,” Jungkook closed his eyes, a small exhale moved past his lips, “I can’t ruin this. Please don’t make me ruin this for her.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He felt weak. He couldn’t describe the growing urge he felt to rush over to whatever party you were at, just to see you. But he couldn’t be selfish. Not again.

Last time he acted selfishly he hurt you. He lost you. He wasn’t sure how it could get any worse – after all, you were out of his life, but Jungkook wasn’t willing to be daring, not if it meant it would hurt you again.

“Fine,” an extended beep was heard from the small speaker of the phone. Completely defeated, Jungkook gently threw his phone back onto his bed. Leaning back in his chair he faced the ceiling. He couldn’t seem to get himself to play another game, so shutting everything down, he went to get himself ready for bed.

Diving under the cool, fluffy sheets didn’t seem to be enough for Jungkook to knock out, which was odd. Jungkook could easily fall asleep anywhere on anything. One time he even managed to fall into a deep sleep after downing two 500ml Monster energy drinks. He had planned to pull an all-nighter with some of his online friends for a good few games of Valorant, the best way to do so was to shove an insanely unhealthy amount of energy drinks down the hatch.

He didn’t expect it to be so easy to fall asleep right away – he didn’t even remember walking over to his bed before dropping dead. But this, this was just frustrating.

He tossed and turned for what felt like hours, until when he finally felt his eyelids become heavy, a key was heard jiggling in the lock of the door. It must’ve taken Jungkook longer to fall asleep than he had anticipated if Taehyung had already decided to leave the party; that boy wouldn’t leave a party unless bits of the morning sunlight was peeking through the windows of the house of the host.

The door finally opened. Jungkook squinted his eyes, adjusting to the new light shining through the door frame. A black silhouette walked pasted the door. It wasn’t until Jungkook’s blurry vision had cleared up that he noticed a feminine like figure standing at the door. Not just anybody, no.

You. In fact.

Jungkook felt his heart begin to tie knots. He was dreaming for sure; there was no way you could just appear in his dorm of all dorms. But there you were, in the flesh. You gently clasped the bundle of keys in your palm, preventing them from making any further noise, taking soft strides through the room – you probably thought he was asleep.  

You quietly made your way over to Taehyung’s bed, opening the drawer of his nightstand. Jungkook’s eyes monitoring your every move went completely unnoticed by you. The poor boy was in awe, it was like you were an angel that had descended from heaven and blessed him with your presence. Frankly, in Jungkook’s eyes, you were an angel.

You let a small aha slip past your lips, in your hands was a turquoise polaroid camera. You neared the delicate camera to your face, making sure it was the right item through the darkness, and indeed it was.

About to make your way out of the dorm, your head turned slightly; in the direction of the boy that was currently sweating his balls off and his heart pounding like crazy. Fuck, did you see him looking at you? You must’ve, you wouldn’t look at him otherwise. Could you hear his heart beating through his ribcage? That has to be it, after all it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

He hurriedly closed his eyes, praying to the lord above that for once in Jungkook’s cursed life, the spirits would work in his favor. God, if you do this for me, I won’t fart on Taehyung’s head pillow anymore.

You slowly made your way over to Jungkook’s bed, with each step you took he felt a new set of sweat gather in his warm palms. He couldn’t feel anything, all he heard was the shuffle of his blanket. The blanket that was supposed to be on him.

While Jungkook had gone unnoticed to you, the absence of his soft, grey blanket on his body had been completely disregarded. He had tossed so much in his unreachable sleep that he had kicked his blanket right off of him.

Not only did Jungkook feel his body overcome in warmth, but his heart also danced at the thought of you going out of your way to cover him in his blanket. Your kindness really was out of this world.

No matter how many times someone had hurt you, you never failed to leave the ways of resentment and treat people with kindness. You were truly too kind for your own good. That was one of your qualities that Jungkook was most fond of, the world didn’t deserve you. it didn’t deserve an angel.

You on the other hand, were completely oblivious to the fact that the man in front of you was wide awake. You crouched down by the side of his bed, you really should get going, you weren’t supposed to linger for so long.

Your eyes trailed the sleeping beauty on the bed. He looked so peaceful, his long eyelashes resting on the top of his cheek, a few of the hairs grazing the scar on right side of the skin. His dark hair was sprawled over his forehead. His lips were sealed, but slightly pouty, they looked so soft. 

You couldn’t make much of his face, the only source of light being the moon light throw the window.

You hand moved on its own. Fingers trailing to the strands of the dark hair, moving the silky locks out of his face.

You wish things had been different between you. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss Jungkook, which is the exact lie you had been telling yourself for weeks. Even though he was right in front of you, you missed him. No, fuck. You couldn’t miss him, even though you wanted things to be different, they never could be.

You snapped out of your daze, removing your hands from his face, you stood up and turned your heel.

“Don’t leave.” You flinched, a small holy shit, was heard from you. Turning back around, you saw Jungkook in the exact same position you had left him in, the only difference was that his eyes were now open. The warm orbs you were completely dazed by were now looking at you.

You had to leave, but you couldn’t, your feet grew minds of their own, obediently staying in place.

Jungkook sat up from his bed, never breaking eye contact with you. He was now seated at the edge of his bed, hands on either side of his thighs, tightly clenching on the sheets beneath him in order to prevent himself from reaching out after you.

There was no exchange of words, you were both lost in each other’s gazes. You were clutching your jacket tightly, looking like a dear caught in head lights. You took a step backwards, gathering every ounce of power you had in your body to try and get out of there. You just couldn’t stay.

“Please,” his voice sounded broken. There it was again – the expression on his face you had never learned to read. His eyelids were droopy, eyebrows relaxed yet slightly furrowed.

He rose from his bed, testing the waters. He examined your reaction before moving any further. When he saw you standing completely still, he took a step forward; you didn’t move, so he took yet another step. That’s when you started to back away, you didn’t look scared or alarmed, so he continued.

This kept going until the back of your thighs met a desk you had failed to notice was there in the first place. You have got to start paying more attention to your surroundings.

Jungkook was now in front of you, eyes looking at yours, searching for any sign of uncertainty. But all he saw was sadness and hurt. His heart clenched in discomfort, because partially – if not all – of the hurt in your eyes was because of him.

He wanted to pour his heart out to you, tell you he was sorry for being an asshole. Tell you he would cut his heart into pieces and hand it to you one by one if that’s what it took to make you happy.

But he wanted to be cautious, he didn’t want to scare you off. So instead, he carefully, carefully, lifted his hand up to your face. The knuckle of his middle finger grazed the side of your cheek. You didn’t flinch.

He extended his fingers to hold your cheek in his palm, his thumb ever so slightly caressing the flush skin. It wasn’t until you leaned into his touch that he felt how warm you were. He could barely make out the light tint of a rosy color on your cheeks. Must’ve been from the booze you’ve ingested at the party, he thought.

Unbeknownst to him, you had barely had enough alcohol to call yourself tipsy.

Deep in your own thoughts, you felt Jungkook’s other hand slip around your waist, the fingers on your cheek descended down to accompany his other hand.

He was hugging you. His face was buried right in the crook of your neck, arms securely wrapped around your frame, fearing for his dear life that you were going to let go of him. His fragile soul couldn’t take it if you did.

You, however, couldn’t bring yourself to hug him back, not until you felt the skin on your shoulder grow wet. “I’m so sorry,” he breathed, barely above a whisper – audible to your ear, nonetheless.

He pulled away, his hands resting on your sides lamely. His eyes were glossy, the tip of his nose red, and a few tears had trailed down his cheeks, leaving stains of the salty water. “I’m – It’s my fault, all of it, I know I don’t deserve it but please forgive me.” he sniffled, “I know you hate me, and you have every right to – “

“I don’t hate you,” for the first time that night, you spoke to him. Your voice instantly sedated the distress in Jungkook. You wiped the tears streaming down his face with your cold thumb, which only caused more to fall. “You should… It’s all my fault.”

Although that had been your exact theory for the past weeks, you couldn’t bring yourself to believe that the statement was true anymore. You continuously blamed Jungkook for everything that had happened to you, but that wasn’t fair, you realized that now.

Because if Jungkook really was at fault, then so were you. After all, it takes two to tango.

“It’s not,” you tried to soothe the tremendous guilt you could recognize behind his doe eyes, it was the exact same guilt you had felt when you returned from the weekend at the summerhouse. The same guilt that had eaten every bit of your fiber. Blaming yourself for days for having cheated on your now ex-boyfriend who turned out to be the biggest piece of shit to walk the earth.

“You didn’t force me to do anything,” you admitted, “but that fucker – “ Jaehyun, Jungkook hissed.

“Anything that came after the summerhouse wasn’t your fault. Jaehyun showed me who he really was – an asshole in disguise,” at the mention of what you had been through, Jungkook’s grip on your sides tightened slightly. You knew he was blaming himself for what Jaehyun had done.

It wasn’t anyone but Jaehyun’s fault.

You cupped his face in both your hands, smiling softly, “please stop blaming yourself for something you had no control over.” You spoke to him, but also to yourself.

For the longest time you thought it was your fault, that if you hadn’t slept with Jungkook, that you and Jaehyun would still be happy and he would never had touched you like he did.

You and Jaehyun hadn’t been happy for a while, and if he hadn’t snapped you would’ve continued to date A-level garbage.

It took you some time to realize that it was never your fault, and it most certainly wasn’t Jungkook’s fault. Your stomach dropped at the thought of him blaming himself so mercilessly.  

He sniffled harder at your words, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorr–“

The kiss was soft. You could tell he completely froze against your lips. Your hands were still on his cheeks; the feel of the occasional tear grazed the skin of your fingers. It didn’t take long for him to melt completely against the plush of your warm lips.

His arms moved back around your waist, pulling you against him until you were flush against his chest. You pulled away. He followed you, refusing that’d be the end of your kiss. His pleading lips captured yours in a second kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck in an attempt to deepen the kiss, not having much room to move them any place else when Jungkook was pressing himself so hard against you.

“I missed you,” he breathed between the kiss “so much.” Fuck, if only he knew how much you had missed him, “I couldn’t bare not having you around me.” You hummed against his mouth, hoping he understood that you reciprocated.

You felt his warm tongue scrape against your top lip, pleading to have a taste of yours. You complied easily. Opening your mouth for him to explore the heavenly wonder that was your mouth.

You had kissed Jungkook before, but this felt different, it was softer, much more gentle. The gliding of his tongue against yours felt new, but so right.

You soon came to the agreement that kissing Jungkook was one of your favorite things to do. The slow dance of your lips increased the beating of your heart, you were sure he could feel it knock against his chest.

He lifted your body, as if you were a feather and seated you on the desk behind you, standing right between your legs. His hands resting on either thigh, gently caressing the bare flesh.

Your lips suddenly felt cold, opening your eyes you found Jungkook’s brown orbs staring right at you. Worry began to creep its way up your spine. “What’s wrong?”

“Do… Do you want me to stop?”

He was being careful. Careful not to cross any boundaries. He couldn’t fuck up again, not this time. You smiled at him. Taking his hand in yours, you placed a peck at the top of his palm, “not at all.”

Jungkook swears his heart melted then and there; the softness in your eyes, the relaxed tone of your voice, there was no hesitation. You felt safe, which was everything Jungkook ever wanted.

He leaned back in, you closed your eyes, puckering up thinking he was going in for another kiss. You felt a pair of soft bud-like lips at the side of your jaw, “beautiful,” he whispered to himself. He kissed the top of your covered shoulder.

You leaned back slightly, both hands steady behind you to support you weight. Jungkook leaned forward, following you, refusing that any sort of distance was between you.

Even though you had given him the ok, you could feel Jungkook was slightly hesitant in his moves, which was nothing like the Jungkook you had in front of you almost an entire month ago. He was so confident and cocky, yet now, he seemed unsure.

He was afraid of touching you and screwing up everything.

“I won’t leave this time,” you whispered, moving your head so that you were now looking at him, “I’m not gonna run away.” You took his hand in yours, guiding them towards your tits. Jungkook watched in awe as his hand completely engulfed your breast.

You let go of his hand when you felt him begin to fondle with the perky tit. He moved back to your neck, but instead of small affectionate kisses, he now began to place open-mouthed kisses at the expanse of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, allowing him more space; you felt the corners of his lips curl slightly.

You gasped at the feeling of his tongue gliding over the skin, slapping your hand over your mouth. While one of his hands were busy with your chest, the other removed the hand from your face, “don’t, you sound so pretty.”

The fingers that were once wrapped around your hand moved down your torso, grazing the apex of your thigh. With his mouth still busy on your neck, he hoisted the length of your stripped dress (that was actually Mina’s), just enough to expose most of your legs, but not enough to reveal the fabric of your underwear.

The pad of his cold fingers slithered over the black textile experimentally. Carefully brushing over your clothed clit, you whimpered. You sounded downright touch deprived.

The lustful boy in front of you began sucking on your neck, all while cupping your clothed cunt without warning. “Fuck,” You jumped at the overwhelming touch.

“So sensitive” he mumbled, “aren’t you, angel,” you hummed at the rightfully missed affectionate name. You gripped his shoulders when you felt him massage a little harsher at your mound. Your underwear was beginning to stick to your folds embarrassingly fast.

Jungkook curled a finger around the section of fabric that was directly against your pussy. Providing access for his hand to touch your warmth without removing your underwear. A muffled, high pitched moan of his name rolled off your tongue at his slender finger sliding into your velvety walls.

You were already so wet, and you were sure he noticed how embarrassed you were about it, with the way you were discreetly trying to close your legs.

He used his other hand to keep your legs apart. “Don’t be shy,” he soothed, “I love this pretty” he scraped his finger against the spongy spot, “pretty pussy.”

“Jungkook, please,” you whined, it only caused Jungkook to chuckle whole-heartedly at your neediness, “what is it, baby?” he pressed his thumb against your clit, gently tapping at it. You shuttered.

“I, fuck, I–“ your thighs began to tense, “tell me,” he urged. You were trying your best, but every sentence you were attempted to formulate was instantly thrown out the window the second Jungkook added another finger into your cunt.

His fingers were scraping at your walls, pumping into you or scissoring. The dangerous combination of all of the above, and his thumb rubbing meaningless patterns on your nub had you seeing stars.

Too focused on his magical fingers, you overlooked the small detail of Jungkook now sitting between your thighs, kneeling. He rubbed your thigh soothingly.

Deciding to help you out, Jungkook wrapped his fingers around the lame excuse of your panties, dragging the pathetic fabric down your legs. You were now completely exposed.

Jungkook eyes you between your legs, shamelessly. “Pretty girl,” he wooed. He pulled his fingers out of you, you whined at the empty feeling.

He brought his soaked fingers up to his tongue, slowly licking them clean, all while maintaining eye contact with you. Telling yourself you could cum from the sight alone was in no way an understatement.

“Mmm, good, so fucking good.” He purred against his fingers. “Bet it would taste even better from here,” teasingly, he slid his finger up your soaked slit, punctuating his sentence, “wouldn’t it, angel?” You quivered at his words. “is that what you want?” yes. “your words, pretty girl.”  

“Yes – Yes, please. Please eat me out,” without further ado, Jungkook wasted no time placing a much-deserved kiss on your swollen bud. You moaned in relief, throwing your head back at the feeling of Jungkook’s lips circling your clit.

You bucked your hips at the feeling of his tongue sloppily gliding against your folds. Your fingers found themselves tangled in Jungkook’s dark and messy locks. He praised you.

Small grunts and low moans were felt against your warm cunt, “such a pretty pussy,” he mumbled to himself against you. You clenched around nothing at the compliment.

“Feels so good,” you cooed, “yeah?” small licks turned into long laps, “yeah – fuck, don’t stop.” Stopping was the furthest thing from Jungkook’s mind.

You felt knots beginning to tie at the pit of your stomach, Jungkook could easily feel you were about to burst. The constant tugging of his hair and the pulsating cunt was all he needed, to know he was doing his job right.

“I love seeing you so needy for me,” at this point, you’re chanting his name shamelessly. It isn’t until Jungkook adds a finger lamely circling your clit that you feel you’re about to snap. The familiar ache between your legs became almost unbearable, you threw your head back and shut your eyes.

“Eyes on me when you cum,” you obliged. Bending your head forward to watch Jungkook eat your cunt as if he hadn’t eaten in days. The view was the most sinful yet the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. His brows are furrowed, he murmured against your warmth. You occasionally saw the tip of his nose, and when you did it was absolutely soaked in your arousal.

“Oh my fuck– Jungkook.”

It’s only when Jungkook uttered his next sentence that you felt the knot in your stomach unravel. “Fuck, baby, I could eat you out for the rest of my life,” you’re breaking apart.

Your hips surge forward, pathetically grinding on Jungkook’s face — he lets you. Helping you ride out your high, he slowly laps his tongue over your spasming pussy. He’s watching your every move, “delicious,” he smiled innocently as if his mouth wasn’t completely covered in your cum.

He stood up once again, licked his lips clean in the process and you swore you just felt something trail down your thigh. Once he was at eye-level with you, you looked down and saw the tent that has formed in his sweatpants.

Naturally, you go to grab his cock. Not wanting to waste time, you wrapped your fingers around it over the material. He visibly shuttered at the feeling, and it wasn’t until then that you realized you hadn’t touched Jungkook – at all. Not even back at the summer house.

Here you were, complaining over how selfish Jaehyun used to be whenever you two were having sex, saying he never touched you properly or showed any ounce of effort.

You weren’t any different. So far, Jungkook had only been the giver, and you had been a spoiled pillow princess.

Trailing your eyes back up to Jungkook, you watched him carefully as you curled a finger around the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers simultaneously, dragging the unnecessary material down his legs.

His cock sprung up, hitting his stomach. The tip was red and hot, several drops of precum dripped down the angry shaft. He was impossibly hard and you began to feel guilt overcome you for having been so selfish with pleasure. Determined to make it up to him, you placed all five tips of your fingers at the very apex of his cock, sliding down until your palm comes in contact with the tip.

The prettiest whine you’d ever heard rolled off of Jungkook’s lips, he watched you attentively, “y-you don’t have to–“ you shushed him, “I want to.”

You twist your wrist and positioned your fingers around his dick. Using your thumb to spread the precum, you lightly brush his frenulum in which he grunts, “fuck, babyyy,” unintentionally thrusting up into your hand.

You squeezed harder and began to pump his cock. The surprising rotation of your wrist was enough to have him slap both hands on either side of the desk, completely trapping you.

“Faster,” he pleads, “go faster,” and you do. His head drops down to your shoulder. He tried to distract himself by sucking another bruise onto the skin of your neck, but it was completely hopeless with the pace your hand was pumping.

Rhythmically, he was subtly thrusting his hips into your hand, matching the pace. He couldn’t wait to fuck you, so for the time being, he had to fuck your hand. And God, it felt so good it was almost pathetic how much a handjob could rile him up.

You felt his hips stutter, and now it was his turn to chant your name. You placed a soothing kiss on the expanse of his shoulder, “Mmm gonna – haah, shit,” You hurriedly pushed him back gently and dropped to your knees. “What are you – Fuck!”

Most of his length is now shoved down as much as your gag reflex allows, and it isn’t until you have Jungkook’s cock halfway down your throat that you realize how fucking impressive his size is. The thought of having him stretch you out with his girth is enough to make you wet all over again.

Jungkook can’t resist collecting your strands of hair up into a ponytail and piston into your mouth, “s-sorry, I’m sorry,” strings of apologies are heard throughout the room, along with the sound of you choking. Your eyes begin to sting, fresh tears falling down the side of your cheek. He continues to fuck your throat, and contrary to his belief, you fucking love it.

You steady yourself by grabbing the sides of his thighs. Echoes of Jungkook’s moans and heavy sighs fill the room, alongside the sound of his cock continuously thrusting down your throat.

“so pretty, you’re s-so fucking pretty like this,” you hum at his praise, “like the feeling of my cock down your throat, huh? Dirty girl, fuck,” at this point your mascara had completely stained your cheeks.

The sight of your brows furrowed, eyes filled with tears, mascara-stained cheeks, and the absolute cherry on top: Jungkook repeatedly plunging his impossibly hard cock down your sore throat, was all it took for him to blow his load.

You’ve never heard such a moan come from Jungkook, it sounded broken and you’re certain it’s the most beautiful thing you’ll ever hear in your life. You felt the warm, white liquid coat the walls of your cheeks and throat and you made sure to swallow every single drop.

You’re stopped from licking his dick clean when Jungkook pulls you back up to meet him at eye level. He lifts you up to sit at the desk again, hands on either side of you, he looks you dead in the eye, “I want to fuck you,” he says bluntly.

Your eyes widen slightly at his directness. Confused, you look down at his dick and holy fuck – he was still incredibly hard. Seriously, this boy had some serious stamina. You assumed his extraordinary stamina must’ve developed all those years in the gym.

You felt tiny under his gaze, you meet his eyes, nonetheless.

“Come here and fuck me then.” You felt bold when a shaky breath left his mouth. He hoisted both your legs up to his waist, causing you to lean back slightly, both your hands were forced to sit behind you once again to prevent yourself from falling backwards.

Without another word, Jungkook sealed the distance between your lips with a sweet kiss.

“Ohmygod–” was all you were able to say when his cock slowly disappeared inside of you, your walls of warmth hugging his length. Once again, you had underestimated just how big Jungkook actually was. He snaked a hand to meet the small of your back to steady himself before he finally began to pull himself out, leaving his tip, only to push back in.

You whined at the delicious stretch. Setting a fixed pace, Jungkook repeatedly thrusted into you, while his lips were busy on yours. You wrapped both arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in the hairs of his nape. “Mmm fuck,” he moaned deliciously against your lips.

“Feels good?” he asked, parting your lips with a soft chu. You nodded; your eyelids lazily drooped over your orbs; eyebrows scrunched together at the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix. He felt so good.

“Say it,” he rasped, “tell me how good it feels,” his thrusts grew harder, “tell me how good I’m fucking this pretty pussy. My pussy,” his pussy, yes, it was his.

You cried at the claim. “It feels so good Guk – fuck I love when you fuck me like this.”

He pounded harder, as if he was trying to punctuate something. Both your breaths quickened, equally as eager to chase your own high as you were each other’s. Pushing his chests flush against yours, he leaned his forehead against yours, neither of you broke eye contact.

“L-love you,” he cried. “I love you.”

It felt as if all the air in your lungs was punched out of you, you couldn’t pinpoint whether it was Jungkook’s hips thrusting into yours unforgivingly, or if it was the fact that the boy you basically watched grow up happened to be the same person you’ve liked since middle-school, standing in front of you, telling you he loves you.  

You lied to yourself, you genuinely thought whatever strong feeling you felt for Jungkook had died down, that you had truly moved on. You even got a boyfriend and all that.

But it wasn’t until you heard Jungkook utter those three words that you realized they never went away, no – you had hidden those feelings away in a box and chained several chains around it to keep them suppressed.

You loved him too, of course you did. You never stopped loving him for fucks sake. It pains you to think about how much crap both of you were put through for you to realize this.

“I love you.”

12-year-old Y/N was applauding and smiling like crazy; you finally said it. The love you had carried for Jungkook in your poor overwhelmed heart was finally spilled all over the table.

Jungkook’s hips stuttered at your reciprocating words. He hadn’t expected you to say it back, but for the love of all that is holy; he loved hearing you say it, it sounded so pretty coming from you. “Say it again,” he was now smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

His eyes were glowing, so of course you had to say it again, “I love you. Fuck – I always have.”

“Again.”

“Jeon Jungkook,” completely out of breath, you caressed the side of his cheek, watching as his eyes teared up once again. He only fastened his pace, if that was even humanly possible. Lovingly, you ran your thumb across the scar that laid right on his cheek, “I am in love with you.”

That being said – Jungkook exploded, with you following right after him. You were holding on to each other for dear life, with slow pumps to help ride out your highs. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, at your final clench.

Small strings of I love you’s were heard from Jungkook who was breathlessly panting into your neck. He kissed your temple, guiding a small string of hair behind your ear.

“You know,” he started, “I’ve been in love with you since freshman year of high school,” he smiled adoringly at you, “the first day we had a biology class, I saw you slip a note into my locker that read ‘if I could be a nitrogen base, I’d be adenine so I could be paired with U.’ and there was a small purple bellflower taped to the corner of the paper. You’ve had my heart ever since that day.”

Your eyes widened, physically cringing at yourself in your teenage years, “I can’t believe you knew it was me, and really? That’s what it took for you to like me back?” You giggled, “you can’t blame me, you were, and still are, extremely adorable.” He shrugged his shoulders. You gently pushed his shoulders, feeling your face turn red at the reminder of your rather sappy biology pick up line.

“Well, I’ve loved you since middle school. I win this one, Jeon.”

-

Saturday 02:57AM

“What’s taking so long, Y/N should be back by now,” Jin winced, eyeing the small watch on his wrist.

Taehyung and Mina looked at each other, “do you think it worked?” Mina questioned, a beaming smile plastered across her face, “yup,” Taehyung crossed his arms proudly. “Operation tell-Y/N-to-get-polaroid-camera-because-Taehyung’s-too-drunk-for-his-own-good-so-that-she-could-be-trapped-in-the-same-room-as-Jungkook-and-make-up… Was a success!”

-

taglist: @selinashere @jjenjen @ladyartemesia @emsuzz @iamjiminsfloor @silvlyjmhwa

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 01

(Masterpost) (Next Episode)

Warning: This is **FULL **of spoilers, not just for this episode but for the entire series. If you haven’t finished all 50 episodes, please don’t read it! 

Intro: 2020 continues to be much much too much while also being incredibly boring, and Im done with Shen Wei’s Lewks, so now I’m doing a deep meta dive into the Untamed. Let’s roll! 

Prologue: The Battle of Mordor

The Demise of our Protagonist

Unlike some other shows I won’t name, The Untamed kills its suicidal queer protagonist immediately, rather than waiting four seasons, so we know what we're in for. 

This is Wei Wuxian, who is about to yeet himself off of a cliff. He is having a bad day. 

Note: if mouth blood bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

Reasons for mouth blood: a sampler

Anyway...cliff time

Note: if (fictional) suicide bothers you...C-Drama might not be your thing. 

To be fair there are hardly any suicides in The Untamed. No more than ...five? As long as you don’t count the entire population of the Wen Corporate Headquarters in Yiling or those wall bandits in Qinghe or Madame Yu or all those Wens who supposedly threw themselves into the mud puddle or that Mo guy who broke his own neck. Plus watching Wei Wuxian’s cliff drop several more times from multiple angles. So, you know. Hardly Any Suicides. 

This is Lan Wangji, who is about to have his first losing encounter with physics. He is having a bad day.

In fact, if it is possible to have a worse day than the guy who is currently falling to his death, Lan Wangji is having that.

This is Jiang Cheng, who is feeling extra stabby from this camera angle. He is having a bad day.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me? 

(Much, much more after the cut!)

The Amulet Situation

This is the Stygian Tiger Amulet. Yes, by all means, (Netflix) subtitles, let's use a 12-dollar word, “Stygian,” that every English speaker who is not a Shelley/Byron shipper will have to look up. Let’s not use a normal word like "deathly" or "corrupt" or you know... "Yin" which is clearly what they are saying on screen.

Why does this tiger amulet look like a chameleon crossed with a remora? Wei Wuxian can paint photorealistic bunnies on a flimsy lantern while sitting in a field having distracting teenage lust, but two months of meditating with super magic gets him a tiger that looks like a chameleon. And don’t try telling me this is a traditional-Chinese-art vibe because this jade tiger from frickin 1000 BCE is way more tigerish than Wei Wuxian’s attempt. 

Try harder next time, Wei Wuxian.

This is thousands of cultivators having a battle.  What do you mean, it looks like about 40-60 dudes?

 Any time someone in The Untamed refers to a number of people, it is like when you do your high school play and look off into the wings at nothing and say “Hark, A Ship Approaches!” and everyone’s parents nod indulgently.

Jin Clan Mountain Hunt:

*viewership nods indulgently*

This is Captain Blowhard, over on the right, courtesy name Clan Leader Yao. His job is to talk smack about Wei Wuxian and stick up for whoever is the biggest asshole in any given scene.  

He represents mainstream cultivation-world values so here he is shanking one of his allies to take the deadly amulet of evilness.

The Present Day

Spilling All That Yiling Laozu Tea

Down at the Exposition Tea Shop, the Lan juniors are chilling and listening to Tea Dude tell the story of Yiling Laozu. 

How did they get permission to take this field trip? “Principal Qiran, we want to go downtown to hang out with the local rabble and learn about your favorite person, Wei Wuxian.”

Waiting in the wings is the man with a fan and a plan, Nie Huaisan(g), who is paying tall loot to get these stories told.  

...Why? Is Mo Xuanyu having tea here and listening? Or is Wei Wuxian being summoned back by hearing all this smack being talked about him? *Shrug.*

Gank Your Soul

Drunk flag guy out here talking about spirits. Wikipedia tells me that In one school of Daoist thought, a human being has a collection of physical souls (魄 pò) and ethereal souls (魂 hún). Drunk flag guy is saying “hún ” at the moment. 

The many types of souls don’t translate well into English, where spiritual vocabulary has always been shackled connected to Christian beliefs, and is too limited for this context. So when the subtitles have conversations like “Is it a soul eater? No, no, it’s a spirit taker!” just roll with it. (Speaking of hún, if you have any interest in linguistics, do yourself a favor and go read all the wonderful meta @hunxi-guilai​)

The spirit-carrying flag looks a lot like Raava and Vaatu from Korra which...probably doesn’t mean anything.

The Demise of our Trill Host

Suicide #2 happens about 8 minutes in. 

Mo Xuanyu is that hippie roommate with the annoying wind chimes and bead curtains and blood spatter.

He is super mad at his terrible family and also at Jin Guangyao, who sent him home to his terrible family. I wonder if Fan Man Nie Huaisang influenced Jiggy’s decision-making there. Mo Xuanyu’s choice to die for revenge might be excessive, given how easy it actually is to murder the Mo family.

Being Alive Is Fine I Guess As Long As I Get To Fuck WIth People

Wei Wuxian starts his new life by splashing a little water on his face, which instantly makes his hair go from this

to this. 

He looks at his reflection and wishes he was dead, which--mood--but he gets over it as soon as he finds someone whose day he can fuck up.

And he is ALL in on being crazy. 

OP wishes she had the Wei Wuxian kind of crazy instead of the kind she actually has. 

Meanwhile, this is the sane Mo cousin:

This asshole is wearing one of the best fabrics in the whole show, incidentally. Asshole.

My favorite bit of Wei-Mo craziness is when Wei Wuxian does a meaningless 360 all the way around this dude before ducking in the opposite direction, which is like when I make 4 right turns around a whole block to avoid making a single left across traffic.

Perhaps I Do Miss One Thing In This Life

Wei Wuxian has pining thoughts about Lan Wangji, so he plays WangXian on a fucking blade of grass well enough for Sizhui to recognize it from his dad's guqin jams. 

Wei Wuxian is a better flautist than even Inspector Gadget BeatBoxing Flute Guy (Google it).

Our Many Many Spirit Lure Flags have Lured A Spirit, Oh Shit

Lan Clan has a Plan and Wei Wuxian is a Fan

Having one single lure flag stuck in Wen Ning’s torso caused spirits to basically eat him alive, so to catch one evil spirit, 6 disciples holding flags on the roof plus 8 more flags on the ground seems like a good amount. Wei Wuxian is like “yep, a single one of these will lure every spirit for five miles, carry on, younglings.”

Baxia Does the Heavy Lifting

Wei Wuxian is supposed to kill four people because of this curse situation, and in the course of the series they all die, and he kills exactly zero of them. The curse on Wei Wuxian’s arm should be called the scorekeeper curse. 

Baxia’s spirit pinballs around the Mo clan, rapidly killing three people on Mo Xuanyu’s list plus a couple extras for good measure.  Who's a good blade? Baxia is! Yess you are! Yes you are!

This here is the exact point in the show where your friend, who has listened to you squee about The Untamed for three months and finally agreed to watch it with you, will say “what the fuck am I watching?” and try to get up off the couch. Tackle them! 

This also the point where we all realize that the prosthetic and practical effects in this show were probably not made by the people who made the clothing, because the quality is...variable. The white eyeballs are pretty good, but the glove of death is ridiculous.

Camera operator: why you gotta take it out on me?

While Baxia goes to town on the Mo clan, the Lan Clan babies...watch? And tie up the various victims after they are already goners. 

Narrator: Her son is dead.

Meanwhile, 

Wei Wuxian, you motherfucker. You’ve been alive for like 7 hours and you’re already building a new zombie army. No wonder you don’t want them to call Lan Wangji.

Hanguang-Jun Cut It Up One Time

Lan Wangji shows up and very slowly kicks zombie ass with his guqin. If you are used to Hong Kong action speeds, you will find The Untamed very peaceful.

 All of the baby Lans fan squee up at Lan Wangji like he's the cultivation world's David Bowie and...they're not wrong. Jesus Fuck, he’s charismatic.

Lan Wangji is soft boi when he discovers this murderous sword full of dead-bastard energy, because it reminds him of his true love.

Like the talk about souls, the conversations about the nature of the murderous entity really don’t survive translation into English.

Servant: it’s a ghost! 

WWX: it’s not a ghost, it’s a spirit

Babies: It’s a spirit

LWJ: it’s not a spirit, it’s a [...] ghost

Our Protagonist gets the FOH

Wei Wuxian is soft boi when he sees Lan Wangji, but not so soft that he considers actually, like, sticking around. 

Wei Wuxian is also clueless boi, noting Lan Wangji’s white clothing and thinking, as in the past, that he looks like he’s dressed in mourning. The term he uses is 戴孝, which google tells me means the type of outfit worn by Jiang Yanli after Wen Ning rips her husband’s heart out someone who is in mourning. 

Actually, Wei Wuxian, you dumbass, he is in actual mourning, actually, for you. Dumbass. He probably packed away all of his blue outer robes 16 years ago and only takes them out occasionally to reminisce about that nice date you had on your mountain of corpses. 

On his way out the door Wei Wuxian manages to find a red ribbon for his beautiful hair, so things are looking up. 

Where to go next...hey I know, how about that one haunted mountain with the killer statue, you know, the one that all my executed friends and child came from? That’ll be fun and a great way to put the past behind me!

Episode 02 Restless Rewatch is here!

[thesleepiesthufflepuff]

My Favorite Fics 2020

Alrighty. I read a decent amount of fanfiction this year (mostly thanks to Wizards Hearts/Game of Drarry), and I’m here to list out some of my very favorites. Thank you to all of the creators out there who put so much time, effort, and energy into creating beautiful stories, and here’s to lots of reading in the new year 💜 also, this is in no particular order and all rec notes are from my personal fic tracker spreadsheet (if anyone wants details on how I set up my spreadsheet, etc. please feel free to send an ask!) 💕

1) Change on the Horizon by Static_abyss / @static-abyss [Explicit, 118.6k,]

When things settle down after the war, Harry has trouble figuring out who he’s supposed to be and what’s expected of him. At the same time, Draco finds himself having to decide between what his parents want and what he wants for himself. Together, Harry and Draco embark on a journey to figure out who they are as individuals and what that means for their future together.

A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless.

Hands down one of the best fics I've ever read. Ana did the most amazing job at translating Micky and Ian's relationship to Harry and Draco, although it’s definitely not necessary to know Shameless in order to enjoy the story. The writing is stunning, and I loved every single bit of this

2) I’ll Play Your Game by JayseHasNoGrace [Mature, 52.2k]

After quitting the Auror department at the ripe old age of twenty two, Harry Potter finds a nice, uneventful job in an apothecary. At least, it's uneventful until his old rival Draco Malfoy comes into the shop.

They strike up an unlikely friendship, which evolves into an increasingly convoluted scheme, which then snowballs spectacularly out of control into a tangle of lies and blurred lines.

They'd agreed to a fake relationship — in Harry's case, to get the wizarding world to take him off his 'perfect saviour' pedestal, and in Draco's case, just to be given a chance in wizarding society at all — but neither of them expected just how difficult that might really turn out to be. Especially when the stakes grow ever higher, and they both start falling for each other. Just a little bit.

FAKE DATING!!! Ugh, this was so good. I love the media aspect of it, and the way that everything comes together is just brilliant. A must-read for anyone who loves fake dating!!

3) I Can be Your Lighthouse by orpheous87 / @orpheous87 [Teen, 4k]

When Harry gets called to investigate reports of Dark magic, the last thing he expects to find is an almost unconscious Draco Malfoy. After multiple instances, he resolves to find out what's going on.

inspired by the song The Lighthouse by The Used.

So, so sweet. I love Harry's determination to figure out what's going on. This is such a lovely fic, and I enjoyed every minute of it

4) Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid / @quicksilvermaid [Explicit, 169.5k]

Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived.

12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends.

Only nothing feels perfect.

Until one day he stumbles across a club called Release and begins a journey of self-discovery that takes him to a very different place.

This left such an impact on me, and it’s a fic I think about often. I can't even begin to explain how incredible everything about this is.

5) Dear Diary by AWickedMemory (TeddyLaCroix) [Teen, 20.4k]

// This can’t possibly go worse than the last time I kept a diary. //

After the war, Harry picks up a journal to write in… and it writes back. Luckily, it’s not a Horcrux on the other end this time.

Absolutely amazing. The relationship that develops between Harry and Draco as they write to each other was so soft and wonderful, and I would easily read 100k of this!

6) Grounds for Divorce by Tepre [Explicit, 122.2k]

Malfoy finds a coin. Harry finds a letter.

A story about histories, a story about families. A story about a lemon tree somewhere in Upper Egypt.

I loved this. It was so angsty at times, but well worth it. An absolute classic that I’m so pleased to be able to say I’ve read.

7) Nero Su Bianco by Zuzallove [Explicit, 40.5k]

September 1997. Hogwarts is under the regime of Voldemort and the Carrows. Finding himself alienated by both his friends and his supposed enemies, Draco puts quill to parchment, and writes letters. He addresses them to the only person he can think of, as Hogwarts rapidly falls into chaos and ruin: Harry Potter. He goes to great lengths to ensure the letters are never discovered, and he’s pretty certain he’s done a great job.

Until the day of his trial.

The letters were so much fun to read, even though they were heartbreaking at times. I loved Draco’s characterization in this, as well as how his relationship develops with Harry.

8) Thunder by Keyflight790 [Explicit, 21.5k]

The storm will disappear; the rain will subside; but what's left in its wake will last forever. A story of love and loss, redemption and thunder

I really loved how well Draco's addiction was written. I'm not a huge fan of past relationships, but this was done in such a beautiful way. Plus, talking to dragons!!!

9) dirtynumbangelboy by magpie_fngrl [Explicit, 39.4k]

After Harry’s unfortunate encounter with his ex, Draco Malfoy makes him a proposition. Draco wants his parents to stop matchmaking him and Harry wants to make his ex jealous. All they need to do is simply pretend they’re in love. Problem is… Draco already is.

Amazing. This has absolutely sucked me into the world of fake dating. I could ramble about this forever, to be honest. Simply incredible, and I love how snarky their relationship was. It was the epitome of a good Drarry fic.

10) just tell me when it’s alright by M0stlyVoid / @bonesliketambourines [Explicit, 23k]

Harry’s been fighting tooth and nail for any bit of normalcy he can get his hands on. He’s sick of feeling like something’s wrong with him, tired of feeling different. He thinks he’s finally gotten to the root of it, and has settled into a routine that makes him happy. Naturally, that’s when Draco Malfoy walks back into his life and upends it once again. Has Harry bitten off more than he can chew with his former rival?

YES!! I genuinely loved Harry’s clinginess. This fic was absolutely amazing, and the secret dating was lovely. Plus, bi awakening!!

11) When Hippogriffs and Pygmy Puffs Collide by oldenuf2nb [Mature, 32.7k]

Harry Potter bakes cakes, brilliantly. Draco Malfoy inks tattoos, brilliantly. Owls deliver post, including messages from clients, with an occasional lack of brilliance.

I was really surprised at how much I loved this, especially since I’ve not really read many fics with odd jobs. I absolutely adored the fact that Harry was a baker and Draco was a tattoo artist, and the characterizations were absolute perfection

12) You Send Me (Honest You Do) by firethesound [Explicit, 37k]

As far as potion accidents go in general, and deaging incidents go in particular, Draco knew this could have been so much worse. Harry only lost about ten years, and all his memories are still intact. But the sight of him looking as if he’s stepped straight out of Draco’s Hogwarts memories has dredged up a whole mess of complicated feelings Draco thought he’d buried years ago, and Draco really doesn’t know what to do with any of it.

I absolutely adored this, and I thought the de-aging aspect was done is such a tasteful way. Such a good read.

13) Highly (in)Compatible by daisymondays [Teen, 36.8k]

Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it?

I LOVED THIS! Oh man, that ending!  Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant

14) Kiss the Joy (Until the Sun Rise) by ICMezzo [Mature, 37.8k]

The Room of Requirement was severely damaged in the war, but not so much that it could not provide for one lost student and another young hero—especially when they needed each other most of all.

An amazing, beautiful, tender fic! The ROR has given them the gift of each other, and I honestly love that it's just the two of them and no other characters. An incredible and soft read

15) December Never Felt So Wrong by MaesterChill / @maesterchill [Explicit, 50k]

'Twas the month before Christmas and sixteen year old Draco Malfoy had never felt worse. His attempts to kill Dumbledore were failing and, as usual, Harry Fucking Potter was a constant thorn in his side.

All that suddenly changed when Draco woke up 15 years in the future and discovered that not only was he allegedly shagging Harry Fucking Potter, he also had thinning hair and a five year old son, and no fucking clue how he got there.

Truly brilliant, and I was laughing from the start. The combination of the aging up, Harry’s off-tune singing to Muggle songs, and soft parenthood were all things I immediately fell in love with. Will be reading again and again

16) Catch Me If I Fall by keeli_marie [Explicit, 38.2k]

When Draco Malfoy collides with Harry Potter one morning while dropping the kids off at school, things don’t go quite the way either of them would have expected.

Another absolute gem, and I'm still reeling from how amazing it was. I'm always a bit hesitant with kid fics, but this is one of the best depictions of love between Harry and Draco that I've read. I love how supportive Astoria is. Such a lovely fic  

16) Love Found by Peachpety / @peachpety [Explicit, 7.5k]

During Harry’s sixth year, Draco Malfoy joins the Order as a double-agent and continues with his task to get the Death Eaters into the castle as assigned by Voldemort. Draco succeeds with his mission the evening Harry returns from the caves with Dumbledore. The boys reunite on the Astronomy Tower and, with the Death Eater’s arrival, are forced to engage in a fight, driving Harry to come to terms with his feelings about true friendship and romantic love.

SUCH a good rewrite of the astronomy tower scene. I can’t describe how much I love the pre-existing relationship, which is a trope I typically steer clear from. And the snark!!! Such a good fucking fic

17) Taro Milk Tea with a side of Depression by Veelawings / @veelawings [Mature, 1k]

Draco sat through twenty grievous minutes of Ministry-mandated group therapy for Newly Registered Magical Beings & Creatures — then promptly stormed out.

Okay, I loved this. The play format was so cool and fit the narration so well. Absolute perfection and SO. GOOD.

18) The Dragon At The Bottom Of The Garden by Zopno [Explicit, 52.3k]

At 25 Harry Potter's life was simple; he flew, sculpted, and had the vault in the back of his mind to keep all unpleasant business. It was stable, but when Draco Malfoy literally hit him with a giant rock; all that changed.

I loved the storyline, especially Animagus bird Harry!! This was such a unique take on an Animagus and post-war fic, and I loved reading it so much   

19) Exposure by GallaPlacidia [Mature, 26.9k]

When Seamus uncovers Draco Malfoy's camboy profile, he, Harry and Ron decide to anonymously book a private show so as to humiliate him later. Fascinated by Draco's confidence, Harry keeps booking private shows under the disguise...

Self prompt: Draco is a camboy. Harry betrays him.

I can't give this enough praise. The hurt of it all was so brilliant. A new favorite for sure

20) you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass [Mature, 20.7k]

When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Fuck. Like...fuck. This was so sad and angsty and perfect in all the right ways. Watching everything unfold was so painful but so worth it. Another new favorite

21) A Room Up There (And You In It) by thestarryknight [Teen, 59.2k]

When Preservationist Draco Malfoy was assigned to work on Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, he was excited to delve into the gorgeous Black family antiques. His excitement quickly ended when something in the House decided it did not like his presence one bit. Featuring a grumpy antiques lover who most certainly did not sign up for this, encounters with a vengeful apparition, and a healthy application of Christmas spirit.

Absolutely fucking fantastic. This fic reads intimacy all over, despite there being no sex. I love preservationist Draco and the way in which information about Harry unfolds. I can’t say enough how much I loved this advent fic, and Starry did such a great job

And now for three fics that I have yet to read/need to emotionally prepare myself for:

1) Modern Love by Tackytiger / @tackytigerfic [Explicit, 61.2k]

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

And it really doesn’t seem fair that Draco Malfoy is back in Harry’s life, all of a sudden, and even though he’s wandless, and living with Muggles, and making his mother cry with his lifestyle choices, he’s happy. So what's he doing right, that Harry isn’t?

Because things don’t really change, do they? And if Harry can’t be happy, he’ll settle for a good night’s sleep, some posh antiques, and the opportunity to find out what Malfoy has been up to for all these years.

And that’s what starts it all.

2) Dragons Don't Know Paradise by  tainara_black / @teacup-tai [Explicit, 50.9k]

In 2004, when Remus spends two scary weeks in the ITU due to complications of pneumonia and his HIV condition, Sirius walks around the house like a ghost and Harry finds comfort and strength in Draco through a chat in an online LGBT forum. Harry falls for him, but Draco has a lot of secrets and, before long, will need to come clean—even if he believes that no one is able to understand a dragon.

This is a story about falling in love online and about facing the reality of death, but above all, this is a story about hope, finding love and acceptance. (Non-magical / bookshop AU, written for the 25 days of Drarry 2020)

3) Aeternus Solem by onbeinganangel / @onbeinganangel [Explicit, 36.9k]

On December 1st, Harry Potter gets sent halfway across the world to attempt to break a possibly fatal curse on an unnamed British Unspeakable — except said Unspeakable is not unnamed at all and Harry has been in love with him for over four years.

{If anyone spots any mistakes in this list, PLEASE let me know! I hope you all have a lovely New Year’s, and may 2021 be less of a dumpster on fire than its predecessor 💜}

[warlockfemale]

Happy Birthday @jovialjuggernaut-draws I am so sorry that this is so late!

Bruce’s colors have always been muted.

He knows because he was told by a doctor after one of many tests. His parents had both smiled widely and told him just what an exciting thing it was. How he had a soulmate out there someplace and waxed poetry about just the sort of things Bruce would notice once he’d found them. He is one of the 30% of the world with someone made just for him that would be found out once his skin touched theirs.

What they hadn’t told him was how only 6% of the world consisted of people with soulmates that had one one another. What would have devastated Bruce once became a relief because he wasn’t destroying another’s life by making them step into the darkness with him. He was happy to date around and allow whoever had been burdened with him to go on with their own life.

And now he was staring in shock into eyes greener than anything Bruce had ever seen before in his life.

“Shit.”

“Shit!” Edward Nygma agreed. He stepped back, cleared his throat, and swiveled around. “Girls! I’ve changed my mind!” Bruce’s mind had frozen into a blue screen so all he could do was stare at the green clad (god is this how so many people usually saw the world?) trio stride out. As if Edward had an important dinner date he was almost late to while Bruce’s entire worldview was trying to stop tilting. He was sure the entire gala was staring at him or Edward at that point, wondering just what Gotham’s most popular billionaire had done to put the robbery to an end so fast.

“Bruce? You doing ok?” Hands started patting him all over. “Bruce? You’re looking really pale here.”

Shit.

* * * *

Bruce wasn’t brooding. He was analyzing the situation from all angles after debriefing it in the batcave to all persons that might get affected. Dick still refused to answer his phone so Bruce asked Wally to tell his son to check the text. Jason apparently thought there was nothing to worry about (and started laughing) and Alfred seemed less concerned about Bruce’s soulmate being a criminal and more worried about how Bruce was reacting.

Bruce wasn’t brooding and to prove it he went to answer the door soon as the bell rang.

“Delivery for a Mr. Wayne!” Nina Damfino grunted as she shoved a heavy green wrapped box into Bruce’s arms. Unlikely to be an explosive since she’d delivered it and Bruce doubted he could get away with chucking the thing away onto the lawn. So he regrettably started unwrapping the thing; hoping that Edward was watching and wincing at the unnecessary mess made of the custom paper. Taking a deep breath (and hoping that Riddler hadn’t somehow bribed Ivy into giving up some pollen) Bruce opened the box.

What. The. Fuck.

Those were Bruce’s statues. The ones depleting Zal and Rudabeh, stolen from the museum they had been on loan to years ago.

Bruce slammed the door shut in Nina’s face.

* * * *

Of course someone had noticed what was going on. Bruce hadn’t been able to stop himself from gawking at just how many different colors the world had now. Or maybe Riddler had bragged to the entire city about it. Either way Bruce was suddenly bombarded with reporters from the society page. One of them had the gall to ask when the wedding was.

“I have a preteen son,” had been Bruce’s statement hoping that could clear things up. “He is my first priority.”

In hindsight that might have been the wrong thing to say.

* * * *

“So I’ve changed the rules a little. My riddles will lead you to criminals and this time they won’t be me!” Jason was practically vibrating in place from mirth as Bruce stared fixedly at the letter laying on the table. Gordon was giving Bruce A Look.

“Word on the street is something happened at the Wayne gala.”

“Hrrn.”

“Riddler donated back some of the art he stole. Wrapped with a bow.” And with a two sheeted riddle that pretty much translated into one giant insult that the museum’s director was still trying to puzzle out. Jason had thought the entire thing was great after the director’s snub at the “newest Wayne charity case”.

“I heard.” The wall really needed to be repainted.

“Batman I need to know if this is going to explode into something I’ll need to worry about.” That had been Dick’s exact words when he’d come into the cave last night.

“I’m looking into it.” Alfred had already started to make pointed remarks about manners and facing life’s problems. “Now ‘You don’t have to look for a night on the lawn’-”

* * * *

“You know Riddler tried to bribe me into sharing information about you today at the library.” Jason tilted his chair back onto the back legs as if he had not just nearly given Bruce a heart attack with his words. “Don’t worry, I held out for a triple scoop sundae before letting him know your favorite color.”

“Jason, he's a dangerous criminal!”

“Eh I grew up with worse.” Bruce breathed in deep trying not to let Jason see just how troubled that fact always made him. Jason usually said things like that off hand, just another fact about the world. The sky was blue, Selina liked to steal things, and Jason’s childhood until now had consisted of trying to survive. “His eyes aren’t mean. And you’re soulmates.”

“I cannot tell you how little that reassures me,” Jason grinned and tipped his chair back into place the little brat. Bruce ruffled the boy’s hair as punishment earning a fake glare and slap at his hands. “But really Jason, you need to stay safe.”

“Uh huh. Think I could take on the Riddler.” Not reassuring. “I also made sure to be in sight of Barbie at all times.” Much more reassuring since Bruce had personally seen Barbra flip two grown men over her head at once. Another grin, bigger this time. More of a smirk that had Bruce raising an eyebrow. “I also told him that you liked flowers.”

“Jay lad please tell me-”

“Sir there seems to have been a delivery for you.” Alfred’s face was carefully blank, a sure sign of just what Bruce was going to find at the door. “If you do not mind.”

“Don’t worry!” Jason called out happily as Bruce stared in disbelief at the sudden garden now growing on his steps. “I made sure Ivy wouldn’t be out for blood!”

* * * *

“Ah detective!” Edward’s green suit might as well been the only spark of color in the diner as Bruce entered it. As pressed and clean as always while the man himself gave a small toast with his coffee cup. “Glad you could make it! And you solved my riddle! Very good!”

“Riddler.” Bruce sat down at the diner bar taking in Edward’s appearance. “What is it now?”

“Is that any way to talk to your new partner?”

“If you think this game-”

“Oh please,” Edward waved his hand like a magician retrieving their rabbit. “You might think Bruce’s secret is safe but I am a genius. He’s helped fund the Justice League.” Edward leaned in, eyes darting around the near empty diner as his voice lowered. “He’s funding you. I have to play on the side of angels for the only one in the universe that can understand me?” He stood up, throwing cash upon the bar and a grim smile on his face. “Now let’s get to chasing down those criminals. Quick crime question. Who was the biggest thief in history?”

Bruce stared at him, then the newspaper resting under Edward’s coffee cup. “Atlas News? Where is this going?” Edward’s face lit up, eyes gleaming as he didn’t even bother trying to hide his utter delight.

“The game, my dear Watson, is afoot!”

“Awwww.” Nightwing cooed into the communicator from his perch as Edward stumbled out the door. It was not adorable, Bruce reminded himself sternly, for a grown man to go scampering out the way that Edward did with such a look of utter pride on his face for having “bested” Batman. They both had a job to do and he was yet convinced that Edward wasn’t just trying to play another game. “Just for the record. Batgirl says you’re an emotionally repressed coward.”

Batman never sighed. In public.

* * * *

“Why hello there Mr. Wayne. Fancy seeing you um… here. At home. Working in your study.” Sometimes it was easy to forget that Riddler’s over extravagant self praise and mocking towards others covered up a socially awkward man. Alfred’s rather pointed eyebrow raise before the butler closed the door let Bruce know just how little the household held his own social skills. Perfect match Jason had cackled madly last night. One never shuts up and the other just grunts.

“I have a secret.” Bruce managed to grind out as he stared at the area above Edward’s ear. He could do this, he’d managed to disarm a bomb with Firefly setting things on fire last month. He has given this speech several times into the mirror and once to Alfred. “It is a rather large one and will affect any… relationship that I may have.” Bruce chanced a look at Edward’s face and was slightly alarmed to see the man’s lip’s twitching. “You deserve to know and if this makes you decide that a-”

“Unless your secret is that you’re Batman I don’t expect-” Edward trailed off as he stared at Bruce’s face. The green clad man’s face went blank as Bruce went through all the contingency plans for when this went bad. “You’re Batman?” Edward burst out laughing, hands flying to the desk to keep himself upright as his body shook hard. Bruce’s hand flew up to sturdy the man just to be swatted away. “I knew it!”

“You couldn’t have known I was-”

“No, no. Not that. Well, somewhat.” Edward’s eyes really were a bright green, brighter than any other color as he bent forward to give a quick peck to Bruce’s lips, one thumb rising up to trace the small scar on the corner. “I always knew you were the only one who got me.”

[loveinterestcastiel]

sursum corda

Part one of a new canon divergent series, “A Sacrament to Be Taken Kneeling”

Summary: the opening dialogue to the eucharistic prayer, or anaphora, translated to english means “lift up your hearts”, and is the beginning of a devout worshipper’s holy communion with god

Canon divergent from 6x22, this one is rated M for religious blasphemy, power dynamics, and mature subject matter (later installments will be rated E for violence, sexual content, and graphic depictions of blood). Honestly this is just a fucked up exploration of the catholicnatural that could have been if the spn writers hadn’t been cowards and had instead really leaned into the whole Godstiel thing, and his dynamic with Dean. I’m going to hell for this and you know what? That’s just fine with me.

It can be read here or in AO3! Enjoy <3

Castiel was brighter than the sun, and he was beautiful. He was the most terrifying thing Dean had ever seen, because somewhere in there, he could still see Cas, the old Cas. He let Crowley go. Dean was going to kill that demon, but- later. Later, when they got out of here and got Sammy put back together.

Then Castiel blew Raphael up with nothing more than a snap of his fingers, and their most formidable adversary, after all these months, was suddenly just a bloody smear on the wall. The last Apocalyptic threat, gone, just like that, leaving Dean and Bobby alone with a Cas-gone-nuclear.

They were so, so fucked.

Cas looked over to Dean, his face softening incrementally but still distinctly smug.

"So you see," he said, turning away from Dean and moving as if to inspect his explosive handiwork, "I saved you."

Dean Winchester is saved.

“You sure did, Cas,” Dean said faintly, drifting further into Cas’s orbit as if somehow compelled. Castiel didn’t acknowledge him, keeping his back turned, his spine ramrod straight. Damage control. Holy fucking shit, damage control right now. “Thank you.”

“You doubted me. Fought against me.” He slowly turned to face Dean, a mockery of their first meeting in that rundown barn years ago, tilting his head the same way, his blue eyes the same limitless color and just as mesmerizing, but somehow about a million times more unsettling. “But I was right all along.”

Dean’s stomach swooped. “Okay, Cas, you were. We’re sorry,” he added quickly, his breath shallow and shaky. “Now let’s just defuse you, okay?” he suggested, the words cumbersome and heavy in his mouth.

Cas narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly before relaxing again. “What do you mean?” he asked icily.

Dean forged on desperately. “You’re full of nuke. It’s not safe, so before the eclipse ends, let’s get them souls back to where they belong.” Oh, he felt like he was going to be sick. Please, Cas, please just listen to me…

“Oh, no, they belong with me,” Cas countered, his tone almost patronizing, like he was speaking to a child.

“No, Cas,” Dean interrupted before his brain or his fear could catch up to him. “It’s- it’s scrambling your brain.”

“No, I’m not finished yet,” he said firmly, with the ghost of a cold smile tugging on his features. “Raphael had many followers, and I must-” Cas paused, choosing his words, “punish them all severely,” he finished deliberately.

Bobby’s eyes darted over to Dean. He was visibly horrified.

Okay. One last effort. Okay.

Dean shoved down his fear and tried again. “Listen to me.” He stepped closer to Cas, swallowing hard as his voice fought to stick in his throat and looking steadily into his eyes. “Listen- I know there’s a lot of bad water under the bridge. But we were family, once,” he pleaded. “I’d have died for you. I almost did a few times.” Castiel’s face remained impassive but Dean continued. “So if that means anything to you- please,” he begged, abandoning his pride. “I’ve lost Lisa, I’ve lost Ben, and now I’ve lost Sam. Don’t make me lose you too.”

Castiel wrenched his eyes away from Dean’s and cast his gaze down to the floor between them. Was he considering it?

“You don’t need this kind of juice anymore, Cas,” he tried to reason. “Get rid of it before it kills us all.”

A beat.

“You’re just saying that because I won,” Cas mused, raising his gaze back up to look at Dean again, pinning him there like a specimen under a microscope. “Because you’re afraid . You’re not my family, Dean,” he said, closing the remaining distance between them until he stood less than an arm’s reach away, positively radiating power, the air vibrating with it. “You’re just… human.”

His eyes lingered on Dean’s face, tracing his freckles, his eyelashes. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t seem to find it. Castiel’s face hardened into stone, his next words iron. “I have no family.”

The words rang in Dean’s ears, banging about his brain and battering it into despair. It felt like a small death, his heart pulling on his ribs as he floundered for a new angle to pursue.

And then Sam was there, behind Castiel, and he just stabbed him with an angel blade, and Cas was swaying just a bit with the blade still stuck in his back as Sam gasped for air behind him, clearly distressed and stumbling backwards.

Dean froze, horrified.

What the FUCK were you thinking, Sam?

But- oh. Oh god.

Cas wasn’t dead. It didn’t work. His brain buzzed blankly with a static-y sensation of bewilderment as Cas reached around himself and pulled out the blade- shiny, clean, utterly free of blood- with an alarming squelching noise.

"I'm glad you made it, Sam," Cas said in a distressingly level voice, placing the newly-extricated angel blade on the table in front of him before turning to glance at Sam. “But the angel blade won’t work, because I’m not an angel anymore,” he said, matter-of-fact as could be, as if he hadn’t just dropped yet another massive bomb on their lives. Sam looked to Bobby, his eyes wide, and Bobby shrugged back minutely, similarly floored.

Look at me, Cas, leave Sammy alone, you’ve done enough-

As if he heard Dean’s thoughts- fuck, was he praying?- Castiel turned back to Dean and met his eyes. “I’m your new God,” he said, with an air of authority and immense self-satisfaction permeating his words. “A better one. So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord. Or I shall destroy you.”

Bobby’s eyes widened in the periphery of Dean’s vision as time seemed to swirl and slow down to a crawl- clearly, he hadn’t expected this either.

Sammy was strung out and swaying on his feet behind Cas, his eyes darting and rolling over the room as he rode out the hellish things that tormented him in his head, seemingly incapable of reacting to the gravity of the situation as what Cas had done put him out of his mind with fear.

In the span of a heartbeat, Dean made his choice. He had no choice.

He fell to his knees.

The crack of bone on hard tile was near agony. His gun clattered uselessly to the ground beside him as he shifted his gaze to land somewhere around the hem of Castiel’s coat. He couldn’t look at his face. Couldn’t meet his eyes. It was almost impossible to believe the terrifying figure before him was once his closest friend, and had saved him from Heaven and Hell alike before he had turned into whatever this was.

His throat was dry. He forced himself to swallow, drawing his tongue over his bottom lip as he tried to find the right words.

Bobby started to kneel, too. Survival instincts, probably. He’d have never gotten this old without them, anyway.

“My lord,” he began hesitantly.

The new God waved his hand dismissively at the title. “Castiel.”

“Castiel,” Dean corrected himself. Great start, you fuck up. “Cas, I swore my obedience to Heaven, once. To God, and his angels. To you,” his voice cracked as he risked a glance at the former angel. His eyes were like fire. Glowing. Unreal.

Bobby interrupted: “Dean, no-”

But Castiel snapped up a hand, palm out, and Bobby’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. “You will be silent,” Castiel ordered, his eyes never leaving Dean. He looked intrigued by Dean’s sudden compliance and admission. “I’d like to hear what you have to say, Dean. What can you possibly say to justify your lack of faith in me up until now? I could have cast you back into the pit, and Sam, too, had I not done this, all of it, for you.”

“I know you did, Cas,” Dean said. “Thank you. I- thank you. You were right, about everything, and I should have listened to you. I was wrong. I should have trusted you.” The words tasted like poison in his mouth. A part of him meant it. A part of him was just desperate enough to say anything. The rest of him wanted to see the cold monster in front of him dead. But how could he turn back now, without sentencing them all to death? If he played his cards right, he might even be able to save Castiel. Surely if he could get him to let go of those souls, he’d start to see reason, would be Cas again. But he was getting ahead of himself. Gotta think a little more short-term, right now. Band-aids and duct tape, not trauma surgery.

“I was blind,” Dean said, “and proud. I took you for granted, and I can do better. Be better. For- for you.”

He had never felt so weak. Groveling to his dad was different. He was his dad’s son, sure, but there was no love there. It was all survival, clinical, even his rage and his fists when Dean didn’t do enough to earn his mercy were detached. Duty and discipline and disappointment. This was different. It was hot with near-tears, messy and filled with grief for a man who wasn’t even dead. He wasn’t lying earlier when he told Cas he was like a brother to him. It was the closest comparison he had for what the angel was to his heart. He had never needed anyone like he needed Castiel- because he wasn’t Sammy, or Bobby, or Lisa, or Ben, or Cassie, or any other category of need. He was just Cas. And Dean wanted him in his life. Or he used to, anyway.

“I don’t know what I can do to make it right between us, Cas,” he said, his throat tightening slightly. “But I want to,” Dean offered, looking down in shame. “I want to be-” he choked out.

“What do you want, Dean?” Castiel asked, taking another step forward, the very picture of authority and control. One more step and Dean could reach out and touch him. The air was electric, heady with power as it positively radiated from his body.

He lifted his head to meet Castiel’s eyes in a pose of supplication, his knees aching, his eyes burning with tears as the situation started to overwhelm him. “I want to be forgiven,” he gasped out. “Cas, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please forgive us.”

“And Sam’s betrayal?” Castiel inquired, casting new fear into Dean’s heart. “He stabbed me in the back. And he has not knelt as you have. Why should I offer him mercy?” he mused.

“Look at him, Cas,” Dean said quietly. Sam was hunched over on the floor in the corner, holding his head in his hands, rocking slightly into the wall and pushing off of it again in a strange repetitive motion. “He can’t follow any of this. I don’t think he even knows where we are. It’s been getting worse as time passes. He was slightly more coherent an hour ago, but-” Dean shook his head. “I think he was just trying to protect me. I don’t think he even knew who you were, just- saw a threat and tried to take it out.”

Cas made a noncommittal little noise, glancing over to where Sam had retreated.

“Cas,” Dean said, drawing his attention back to himself. “He didn’t know what he was doing. Can you try to forgive him that?” he pleaded as the first tear escaped and ran down his cheek.

“And in return?”

“Anything,” Dean swore. “Just- Cas, please. I’ll do anything. I will, I swear it. Just please help Sammy.”

“It won’t be as easy as you think,” Castiel warned. “I want your trust, Dean. I want the bond we once had, and your submission to my better judgement, untainted by your... fear.” His voice turned hungry, reminiscent of when they worked that killer Cupid case last year and it turned out to be Famine. To be on the receiving end of desire of that magnitude was by turns exhilarating and horrifying. “I want your love.”

“Cas,” Dean said faintly, unable to tear his eyes away from his friend’s face even as Bobby attempted to fight his holy gag order from his place next to him. “I… I’ll try. For you,” he added, trying to add a note or resolve to his voice as his thoughts roared in fear and grappled with the idea, stuck on the precipice of this terrible new unknown he had run up against. But he truly had no choice. Sink or swim.

“I swear, Cas,” he said, raising his hand to his heart, “I’ll try.”

Castiel’s eyes softened. They stopped glowing.

Suddenly, for a moment, he looked just like himself. More than that, he looked heartbreakingly human.

He moved suddenly, sending Dean’s heart sprinting again for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

But he didn’t hurt him. He didn’t hurt Sam, or smite Bobby, or engage in any sort of holy wrath. He just kneeled, in front of Dean, and clasped his clammy hands briefly in his own warm, dry ones before shifting them both to his right hand and raising his right palm to Dean’s cheek, his eyes darting over his features with an air of disbelieving gratitude. It was so...

Castiel had lovely hands, Dean noticed. Strong, soft, and broad, with a gentle grip and long, agile fingers. So different from Dean’s own hands, already scarred from the last few years of wear and tear since his resurrection. Of course, he’d noticed before. Noticed that sort of thing about Castiel, how he used his hands to fight, to pray, to eat and to comfort, how they looked drenched in blood and how they looked at rest. How they looked striking a blow to his own face, and how they looked when he healed him. They were one of a million things Dean knew about him better than he knew himself.

“Oh, Dean,” he said softly, “That’s all I ask of you. Just try. Lift up your heart to me, and I will give you everything.”

Dean inhaled sharply, his chest tight as he leaned into the touch. "It's yours," he breathed out, "It's all yours, Cas."

Castiel smiled, and the world fell away.

Tagging in some people who I think might be interested, just dm me to be added or removed: @castieljew @dependsupon @autisticandroids @sunforgrace @heller-jensen @lateral-org @cactuscas @adhdeancas @icaruscastiel @holmesemrys @evermorecastiel @yana125 @faithcastiel @good-things-do-happen-dean @i-sing-for-me @whatevr-4evr @sonder-stars @jeanne-de-valois

[yostresswritinggirl]

Exiled States The Obvious Pt. 2

Part 1

I dunno what happened, in all honesty (and for clarification), this is not a theory blog/post and serves only as my masterpost of information that I saw and had not seen people talk about much. I would like to thank everyone for taking this into stride and enjoying the post too, as well as engaging in conversation about it!

Without further ado, here is part twooo:

Previous Post Clarifications!

Lots of people got really confused about the Almond Tofu thing so I had to expand to alleviate confusion: The Chinese delicacy Almond Tofu (Annin Tofu) is made up of sweet apricot kernel milk, usually translated to almond milk because apricot kernel is often translated as almond. So it is not tofu but more on a pudding dessert. When I said it is canon almond in game, it's because the game recipe states almond, but of course it could just be that way since we don't have apricots there.

I forgot to reiterate that 6 stars characters can and will exist, and the possibility of special characters without Visions included in that criteria is quite possible hnghngh — thank you to @archonistic for the insight!

Venti is actually part of the original Seven, the way things worded in game and wikis seem to have confused me. But it should be noted that Decarabian was the Anemo archon before him.

For the two nerds who seems to be obsessed with the forgery info (you know who you are), let me emphasize on this piece of text for your wonderful imagination: As it turned out, Venti had once practiced the art of forgery in order to play pranks on the Geo Archon, but would never deceive the god of wealth and transactions. Even so, his adeptness would come into play after several hundred years. A literal scenario.

I now know why there's no estranged relationship between Diluc and Venti. And why the Diluc x Jean ship makes more sense than being cute.

And when I meant that Zhongles was an ADEPTI FUNERAL man, it was meant like so: his job description focuses on "sending off adeptis" through funeral rites. I just realized how my wording confused that from the prevy post.

New Set of Facts!

I will reiterate this again and again until the world knows: Xiao plays the flute. It is his other idle animation. And it may or may not be a xiao (Chinese flute).

Grand Master Varka is one of the reasons Diluc left Ordo Favonius.

Mona works for The Steambird, a newspaper publishing in the Court of Fontaine and distributed around Teyvat, which gives her a steady stream of income.

Dvalin's corruption was due to him mawing the fuck outta Durin's throat, making him ingest the poisonous blood and rest for 100 years. His corruption paired with the Abyss Order's manipulation is what made him Stormterror.

In relation to that, Dvalin knows how to sing courtesy of Venti.

Qiqi forgets... Baizhu's face...?

Adeptal energy seems to be harmful to mortal souls and/or blood on prolonged exposure. With Zhongli, being an adepti and roaming the mortal realm freely, what do we make of this...

Paimon is usually depicted or called elf (Verr Goldet) and Venti was also called of a similar namesake.

If you noticed Childe during his second stage in the Golden House fight, his clothes turn darker and even the silver lining of his gloves turn red, greatly supports one thing: Magical girl-esque clothes transformation is possible and gender equal.

Venti would also fit that if not for the fact that it's his actual God form. Now that's what we call human rights.

Diluc's name is an anagram to Lucid, as Ragnvindr is an anagram to Arvdrgnni. It's not a word, don't overthink this.

They really just made Albedo be the true carrier of the Main Protagonist vibes: brooding and silent, mysterious, carries unknown power that can cause mass destruction, multi-talented, pure genuis, no parents, stalked by an unknown prowess that swears to stop them in the future, pretty boy aesthetic and LOVED BY EVERYONE (with a few outliers). Bye Aether and Lumine.

Kaeya's visible eye resembles that of the Unknown God's.

Speaking of Kaeya, here's a random list of characters with highlights/different tones on their hair: Kaeya, Xiao, Venti, Zhongli.

And here's a list of people brave enough to eat or drink anything willingly: Jean, Childe, Xiangling, Qiqi, Mona, Noelle, Traveler.

Xiao is silently judging Zhongli's boring mortal life and it's so fucking funny.

Voiceline scenario: Xiao mentoring Ganyu? T-this is a ship I didn't know I'd get behind on...

I always thought it was weirdly specific how there's a God of Dust of all things. Until Albedo came along.

X-Xiao,,, eats snow,,????

Childe in the Japanese version of his character Miscellany speaks the words "Dearest sister..." in Russian.

General

My dumbass must have forgotten this but all workers in Wangshu Inn are secretly agents of the Qixing. And that martial arts is a hiring requirement, wtf.

""Angel's Share" actually used to be wine brewers' slang before it was the name of a tavern. The idea was that the air bubbles you see during fermentation carry away the angel's share when they float off into the wind." - From Landa, a Fatui agent; real life accounts just proved this true.

Red Heads in Mond = 'Children' of the Pyro Archon including Venessa and her tribe.

The Lantern Rite Festival is Liyue's very own New Year's Celebration, which will be released in February because China celebrates Lunar New Year in that month. Mondstadt also has a new year tradition called Windbloom Festival! It is however specifically noted that it is not as extravagant as Liyue's Lantern Rite.

Liyue was established exactly 3700 years ago.

There are no... dire drawbacks or destructive international crisis upon the death of a God? Salt didn't disappear, and I'm pretty sure there's still dust in Zhongli's wallet...

Wildcard!

This was the leaked world map but seeing as the game is still under development, this is not indicative of the final product. Not everyone wants to be spoiled so I'll be adding it under the cut instead: