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dalliancekay · 8 months ago

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to (or at least should) suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. As the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop....

...after this he drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Or, for the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. For Heaven. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And so for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3 (to I assume) even out the scores. Or... to deserve Crowley. Some people also want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he has (so thoughtlessly) done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book, my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I...did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating as well, and by furiously (but quietly) trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel I get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck (Crowley's 'What's the point of it all' at the beginning of S2). I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, but I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying from then on.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spend the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. What happened to him. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink and cry, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen now.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? And why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought will happen if he survives this), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale? About his sadness?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. First of all, he was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they both BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress like Crowley does. He will learn to be more open, I'm sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, not at all. But asking how I am can only end up in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid, unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do). I think...this would probably work not just for someone who is grieving but also for someone who you know is dealing with depression for example or a serious illness etc. Edit 2. It's now almost (in 15 days) a year since my brother died. The random attacks of pain and grief have lessened and I have started to do more of the things I enjoyed before... and I am able to answer how are you questions without feeling like they are trying to mock me (the questions, not the people). So I suppose things do get ... lighter? More diffused? I'm not sure. Because it's still exactly as unfair that my brother has not lived this past year as it will be however many years I will be here without him I expect.

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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sansaorgana · 2 months ago

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— DECEPTION (II)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — You only have a few days to convince Adar that he should keep you alive and choose you as his companion. You get to know him better, which makes you start feeling sorry for him – but not sorry enough to forgive him for defeating your lover. In the meantime, Adar's suspicions about Sauron's comeback give you hope.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — Hello! 🤗 Thank you for liking the first part of this story and I am sorry it's going a bit slower than I expected but I am job hunting at the moment and I might actually get one, which is an opportunity for me. Because of that, I was pretty busy those past few days + I have started a different multichapter fic as well. Please, keep your fingers crossed! 😊 Although, if I don't get the job, I will have more time for writing... 🤣 Either way, I hope you enjoy this chapter! 🥰

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship

WORD COUNT — 5,120

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (II)

You spent the rest of the day in your chambers, watching the courtyard carefully from your window. The orcs were walking around it carefreely as if the saint trees did not grow there. They could not care less about anything holy. And at night they started a fire to sit around it while talking and laughing loudly in the most obscene manner. But because they went to sleep so late, they also were not up early – unlike you.

You got dressed in a black mourning gown, which was a beautiful piece made of velvet and lace. You were grieving in many ways after all – you were grieving your life that you could lose very soon and you were grieving the downfall of the fortress that had been your home for such a long time.

When you were finishing getting dressed, you looked out of the window and furrowed your brows at the sight of Adar approaching the holy trees and sitting on a bench underneath them. Was it possible that he prayed? You highly doubted that – even you were finding it difficult these days after the time you had spent with Sauron. An Elf as corrupted as Adar just could not pray, of that you were sure.

In that quiet moment in the early morning, you found your first chance to approach him but with a different attitude than on the day before. However, you were aware that the change of behaviour cannot be too sudden – otherwise, it would reek of falsehood.

Taking light steps, you walked up to Adar and even though he had to hear you coming, he did not even flinch. Only when you were very close to him, he turned his head around to look at you without a word. You did not say anything either and took a seat on the other side of the bench, clasping your hands on your lap and staring at the tree above you. He eventually stopped observing you and went back to looking at the tree as well.

“Do you pray to the Valars?” You asked calmly but with a hint of curiosity. Your eyes still remained on the benches of the tree, though. You refused to lock your eyes with him. Not yet.

Adar was not answering for a while, which made you grow nervous. But, thankfully, he eventually answered your question. Well, kind of.

“Do you?” He inquired without looking at you either.

“Nobody listens to my prayers,” you said, “but I like to come here and think.”

Adar nodded and the long silence occurred again. You were fidgeting with your fingers nervously throughout all that time but you didn’t mind him noticing that. You knew what kind of person you had to play – tough, mysterious and intriguing in a way. With a hint of darkness that would make him curious but also with a hint of innocence and nervousness that would make him feel compassion. You were sure he was still able to do it since he could treat the Orcs like children. You wanted him to pity you in a way – to pity you enough to keep you alive. And to intrigue him enough to make him want to keep you with him.

“You wore black today,” he pointed out with a smirk and finally looked at you. You turned your head around to meet his gaze and you felt your cheeks heating up. His eyes were intense and so far you caught yourself feeling all the things you wanted him to feel towards you – you were intrigued by him but you also felt sorry.

“I mourn Ostirith,” you informed him and watched his reaction but there was really none. He was as cold as a stone on the outside like he was on the inside.

Adar looked up at the benches with leaves. You looked there, too, following his gaze and from the corner of your eye, you spotted him staring at your exposed neck. You wondered what was going inside his head. Was a man like him ever thinking of women in the same way as other men did? Was he ever craving someone to be by his side? He had to be lonely.

Perhaps, you had to make him realise how much. And that he did not have to be anymore.

“What happened to you?” You broke the silence and looked at him again, which made him furrow his brows with a hint of anger. You expected this sort of reaction, so you quickly backed out. “Forgive me…” You lowered your voice and looked down, nervously.

You hoped he wouldn’t walk away and indeed – he did not. That was part of the success already, you thought. You waited patiently for his next move.

“Morgoth happened to me. Sauron,” Adar explained after a long while of silence. At the sound of your lover’s name, you felt shivers go down your body and you moved uncomfortably. You hoped he hadn’t noticed but why would he suspect you to know any of these men personally? You were only a naive daughter of the Lord Guardian of the Southlands.

“What do you mean?” You laid your eyes on him again and batted your eyelashes, trying to show him compassion with the way you looked at him. Adar hesitated before answering more of your questions.

“I followed Morgoth out of my own curiosity and thirst for knowledge and power. And then I paid the price,” he explained, sparing you the details. You wondered if it was because they were too painful to talk about or was it because he found you too delicate for them.

“Is it justified to blame them for your downfall, Lord Father?” You dared to ask. “Was it not your own pride and greed that caused it?”

Adar chuckled at that as he tilted his head to take a better look at you. You did not shy away this time, showing your inner strength.

“You are not afraid of me, my Lady,” he pointed out.

“Why would I be? I only have a week of life to live,” you reminded him. “For an Elf, that is nothing. It makes no difference to me if you kill me then or now.”

“Why would I kill you for asking questions?” Adar shook his head. “Curiosity is no stranger to me,” he added and looked away, sadly. You remained silent for another long moment, allowing him to make a decision if he should keep talking or not. “I know I have only myself to blame for what happened although I have to admit I was naive. I hoped for more than suffering. There was only pain,” Adar’s voice turned into a whisper and he looked away.

You felt sorry for him now. You knew Sauron’s nature and you knew it was a result of Morgoth’s training of pain and suffering. You were not surprised to find out that your lover could inflict the pain on others as well. Everyone Morgoth had ever hurt turned out to be broken creatures who wanted nothing but revenge.

“Well, they are gone now, aren’t they? Morgoth and Sauron?” You asked, playing naive.

“Morgoth, surely. I cannot be completely convinced about Sauron. He is of a cunning nature. I have defeated him once but I shall defeat him again if I must,” Adar’s jaw clenched as he explained and your heart skipped a beat.

So there he was – the murderer of your beloved, right in front of you. And even though you hated him with every fibre of your being, you had to play it cool and bat your eyelashes, hoping to seduce him enough to make him want you as his companion.

But the fact that even Adar did not believe in Sauron’s disappearance from this world was giving you hope. He would come back… Of that you were sure. He would come back and make you his Queen.

Adar’s eyes were filled with fire and hatred whenever he spoke of Sauron, so you didn’t want to continue this conversation for now. You nodded and you stood up to leave after hearing that some of the Orcs were already entering the sacred courtyard and approaching their Lord Father.

“I shall retire for now,” you explained. “It was a pleasure to talk with you, Lord Father.”

“You do not have to lie,” he snorted.

“I do not lie,” you lied. “You are different than what I thought. Forgive my rapid judgement but I was driven by fear. Have a good day, Lord Father,” you bowed your head and walked away.

On your way out of the courtyard, you walked past the filthy Orcs. You were trying your best not to flinch or wince as their eyes were following you with curiosity that was deeply uncomfortable. You did not want creatures of this sort to have any interest in you.

Even though you were trying to view them as any other species of Middle-earth, you simply couldn’t. They were too hideous and too disgusting. You knew how unfair was your judgement but you were sure that all Elves would agree when it came to the Orcs. And so would humans. Perhaps some species had only been created to make others feel unsettled.

You spent the rest of that day with your mother, cheering her up. You felt bad for her because she would pay for the sins she had not committed. You were not pure anymore and in many ways you deserved to die. Your father had turned out to be a vile creature of no backbone. But your mother was pure and innocent and she had been begging for you all to run away. She could have run away alone but she would never abandon her family. And now – because of how dutiful and loyal she was – she would die…?

You could not let that happen.

On the second day you were informed that Adar was in the library, looking through your father’s ancient collection of manuscripts. You pretended that you had not known about it and you entered the room very naturally, without paying any attention to your guest. You picked up some random volume and sat by the table, a few chairs away from the Lord Father. You were wearing your black dress again.

Adar looked up at you for a moment but when he realised you were not in the mood to talk, he just decided to ignore you as well. In the meantime, you were looking through the pages of the book you had chosen and pretended to read it in silence but in reality you were observing him from the corner of your eye.

“Are they your children because they remind you of yourself?” You asked all of a sudden while biting on your lower lip. Adar froze and looked up to lay his eyes on you. He did not say anything, so you explained. “They are damaged and do not belong with any other species. Nobody loves them but you because you know what it is like to not be loved at all,” you pointed out.

“Your father was right about your nature,” Adar cracked a smile. “You have a great intuition, my Lady,” he bowed his head to you and you smiled at his compliment. “That is not all, though. My children and I have more in common. We were all hurt by Sauron,” he explained.

“How?” You asked and titled your head.

“He wanted to enslave my children and use them like mindless tools but they are not… They deserve to live in freedom and peace,” Adar explained to you. In many ways, you felt as if he was your father who was explaining things to you in a gentle and soft manner. He was explaining to a naive daughter how the world worked.

But that was not the dynamic you were aspiring for.

“You speak of peace as if you haven’t burnt villages on your way. As if you haven’t killed the men and women who had denied to follow you. And those who had bent their knees, you have marked them like cattle. Do not talk about peace to me, intruder, when you are the one who brought the war to these lands,” you spat out and closed your heavy volume angrily.

The sound echoed through the walls as the dust raised up and danced in the air. When it fell down and the echo subdued, Adar spoke again.

“If we came in peace and asked for a piece of land to live there, would your people accept us?” Adar asked and you pursed your lips. You knew very well your answer would be a lie. Elves and humans would never accept the Orcs. Even the dwarves would not do that. “Some creatures are born with their right to live and others must fight for it,” Adar added and went back to the manuscripts.

The doors opened with a squeak and one of the Orcs entered the library. He was the one you had spotted many times before around the Lord Father and you assumed he was the closest to Adar.

The Orc took a step back at the sight of you and lowered his head a little. You could not blame him for that because you were staring at him with so much intensity and anger that it would intimidate many. Still, it felt oddly nice to see they respected you just because they could see that your kin was equal to their Lord Father.

Despite Sauron’s corruption, you still were the bearer of the light. Nobody could tell just yet that the very root of this light was rotting deep inside of you. Especially not a common Orc. To him, you were the beacon in the middle of the ruins.

“What is it, my son?” Adar asked him but the Orc only shook his head, refusing to speak. You spotted his small eyes staring at you and you only smirked. “Do not fear her. She is a friend,” Adar explained and you furrowed your brows at that but you did not say anything.

“Well, then, my Lord Father, I just wanted to bring you the message from our scouts,” the Orc walked up to the table and handed Adar a small piece of paper.

“Thank you,” Adar took it from him gently and read it. The Orc kept staring at you with curiosity.

“I shall retire to my chambers,” you stood up and walked past them to approach the doors.

The Orc bowed his head down after you and Adar looked up at him with a furrowed brow.

“What are you doing, my son? She is not your master,” he pointed out but you didn’t hear the rest of the conversation because you walked out of the library. You wished to hear the rest of it but it would be too suspicious.

You wondered, though, why the Orcs really treated you this way. Perhaps it was not because of the light you were carrying – perhaps it was quite the opposite. What if it was them who could smell Sauron on you? Your lover had been the one who had tried to enslave them in the past. Sauron would never treat them like children and he would never be their father. He had wanted to be their master.

Seeing their fearsome and filthy army profanating your home, you somehow wanted to be their master, too. You understood Sauron now – having such an army could make you feel invincible. They respected nothing and they were hungry for blood. The only thing you could not understand was how Adar was able to trust his own children. Perhaps that should be the next question you would ask him.

On the third day you approached him in the courtyard again, still in the same black dress. This time he was sitting by the fire with the Orcs but when you walked up to him, you froze at the sight of a baby Orc sitting on his lap. You kept staring at this strange little creature with a mix of emotions – the baby was still innocent but it was not pure by any means. Because of its kin, it was doomed like the rest of them.

“Are you quite alright, my Lady?” Adar’s voice made you snap back to reality and you cursed yourself for not being the one to ask him a question first on that day.

“Yes, thank you, Lord Father,” you nodded and took a seat next to him that was empty. At the sight of you getting near the baby, the father approached Adar to take his offspring. It was the Orc from the library.

“He does not trust me,” you pointed out, although you would not trust yourself either if you were them.

“His name is Glûg,” Adar told you. “None of them trusts you.

“Do you?” You asked and batted your eyelashes while laying your eyes on him. Adar turned his head around to look into your eyes but he was visibly confused, so you changed the tactic. “Do you trust them?”

“I do,” he nodded. “They are my children.”

“I would not trust them if they have so much in common with you,” you teased. “Do you trust yourself?”

“They are all I have,” Adar opened his hands to show you the emptiness of them.

“You are lonely,” your voice saddened as your eyes filled with compassion. It was forced but you were a trained actress and your greatest power was that no one knew about your studies or your teacher.

Adar did not like your insinuation. He moved uncomfortably and sighed as he shook his head.

“I thought higher of you, my Lady… But you are here to help your father’s agenda, are you not? You are trying to convince me,” he smirked. “I am not interested.”

“My father’s agenda is not my own. It has never been and never will be,” you clenched your jaw as your eyes filled with anger and hatred. You despised him being even mentioned and you had been successfully managing to avoid him those past few days. In fact, every reminder of being his daughter was making the blood in your veins boil. “I simply wanted to say I know what it is like to be lonely. I am, too. I have always been,” you looked into the fire, following the dancing flames with your eyes.

That was not a lie – not fully. There had been a time in your life when you hadn’t felt lonely and that was the time you had shared with Sauron. But it had not been a long time, especially compared to your whole long Elven life.

“It must be lonely for a young Elven woman to grow up in Ostirith,” Adar admitted. “Isolating.”

“It was,” you nodded, refusing to look at him again. You were scared that your current vulnerability would reveal your true self to him. “I understand you… In some ways. To have so many children, to be loved… That would surely feel good,” you admitted.

“No,” Adar shook his head. “You do not understand me. You would, if you were able to see them as your children, too. You would not preach to me about war and peace then but you would feel the need to protect them no matter what price,” he said.

“We protect what we love,” you agreed as you nodded. All you could think of was him – Sauron. Dying somewhere, all alone, killed by his own army, betrayed. And you had not been there to protect him but even if you had been… What would you do? You were not powerful enough to do anything but watch. “Even if it is a hopeless case,” you finished.

A short silence occurred and you could feel the Lord Father watching you with curiosity.

“My children are not a hopeless case,” he only said.

You stood up and wiped the single tear that had escaped your eyes before. The Orcs around the fire stopped their conversations and they looked up at you, observing your movements.

“I shall go to see my mother now,” you informed Adar and he nodded at you but you could feel his eyes following you out of the courtyard.

On the fourth day you wore a crimson red gown that had been a gift to you from Sauron. It was a risky move but your parents had believed it was a dress you had gotten yourself in Eregion so why would Adar question it?

You felt somehow powerful while walking down the hallways of Ostirith with all the Orcs moving out of your way, staring at you with a mix of curiosity, hatred and respect. You were on your way out of the fortress because you had seen through your window Adar walking out earlier. He was probably taking a walk in the forest surrounding the fortress and you missed walking, too.

The Orcs standing by the gate did not want to let you pass, though.

“Lord Father says your family can’t leave,” one of them drawled out as he looked you up and down, pointing his dagger at you.

“I am going to him. To your Lord Father,” you tried to reason with him in a calm manner.

“I don’t believe you, Elf,” he spat out as if your kin was an insult.

“Let her go,” another voice interrupted you. You turned around and spotted Glûg. His small eyes found yours and nodded before looking down again. “Lord Father says Dark Lady is a friend.”

“Dark Lady?” You asked, surprised, but there was no time to question it because the Orcs standing by the gate hesitantly let you pass, so you just decided to use the opportunity to walk out of the fortress.

You knew they were observing you, so after crossing the bridge, you went down the same forest path you had seen Adar taking before. But when you found yourself deeper inside the woods, you actually considered taking another turn and disappearing forever.

Where would you go, though? To Gil-galad? He would immediately sense the darkness inside of you because he was made of pure light himself. And you would never forgive yourself for abandoning your mother.

No, because of her you had to follow the same path Adar had chosen. And so you did, until you found yourself by the cliff. He was sitting on the edge and staring at the Southlands below him. Those were the lands he still had not conquered.

He looked up when he heard your footsteps but he did not question how you had managed to get out of Ostirith.

“Are you not mourning anymore?” He asked at the sight of your dress.

“I have accepted my fate,” you took a seat next to him and took a deep breath at the sight of the Southlands. “Are you going to conquer it all?”

“If I must,” Adar nodded and you looked at his hands. He was holding a piece of paper there like the one Glûg had brought to him on the second day.

“Why do you send the scouts? What news do they bring?” You bit on your lower lip. You were not scared of asking questions anymore because he was not angry at you for being curious, which he had proven already.

“I have reasons to believe that Sauron is back,” Adar looked at you and you flinched. Thankfully, he must have taken that reaction as fear or disgust instead of blooming hope inside of your chest.

“And what about it?” You raised your eyebrow.

“I shall destroy him again. And again and again until my children are safe,” he answered with anger as his eyes filled with rage. Sauron was his weak spot.

“You hate Sauron more than you love your children,” you risked the statement. “You would do anything to avenge what he did to you, no matter the cost. Many of your children will die while you chase him,” you explained.

“I shall not watch him turn my children into slaves!” Adar squeezed his fist with the paper inside of it. His anger did not scare you, though. Somehow, the news about Sauron made you feel more fearless and more peaceful. Everything would be alright, all the pieces were coming together.

“Because if he does… You will be alone again. All alone,” you only pointed out softly and you stood up to walk away and go back to the fortress. “But you do not have to be.”

“Why would you follow me if not to save your life?” Adar asked and you froze after turning around already. You smiled to yourself nervously.

“Why do your children call me a Dark Lady?” You asked.

“They have not met an Elf like you before. You are different. Dark,” Adar explained.

“And you?” You turned your head around, confused.

“I am an Uruk,” he explained and you nodded.

“If I died now, I would still see Valinor. It would heal me and save me,” you revealed, “if I followed you, I would be doomed forever. Following you is not cowardice. It is an act of courage and a sacrifice.”

“Why?”

“I have always wanted more,” you admitted and turned your head around again to take the first step towards the forest but Adar wanted to ask one more question before you would go:

“If you could save only one person out of the whole fortress, who would it be?”

You did not hesitate with your answer. She was the reason for this all.

“My mother,” you told him.

On the fifth day you were sitting in the courtyard on the bench under the holy trees while the Orcs were sitting behind you by the fire. You could feel their eyes observing you but they were not bothering you and you were not bothering them. You were waiting for their Lord Father to join them to continue your game. You knew that you were running out of time.

Sitting there and looking up at the leaves, you were lost in your thoughts. You sighed and then you felt something pulling on the fabric of your dress. When you looked down, you saw the baby Orc staring up at you. At first, you winced out of disgust but you quickly hid that expression and the baby was too little to snitch on you later.

You looked around but you could not spot any worried parents looking for their offspring, so you assumed they still had not realised the baby was gone and you did not want to raise the alarm and bring everyone’s attention to yourself.

The baby Orc tugged on your dress again and then it lifted its hands up. You decided to give it a chance… Perhaps it would make you understand Adar better.

You picked the baby up gently and put it on your lap. The little Orc was actually interested in the leaves of the sacred Elven trees and it made you chuckle. You reached your hand to pick one of the leaves and use it to tickle the baby a little.

You heard familiar and heavy footsteps behind you so you turned your head around and you spotted Adar with Glûg beside him. They both froze at the sight but you did not care about the Orc at all, you focused on the Lord Father. You were staring into his cold eyes intensely as if you were challenging him.

“Forgive us, Dark Lady!” Glûg ran up to you to take his child from your arms. “Forgive my son for bothering you,” he bowed his head down.

You did not say anything to that but you handed the leaf to the baby so the little one would still have his new “toy” for a while longer. When Glûg walked away with his son, you laid your eyes on Adar again and he approached you slowly and sat next to you.

“I spoke with your father,” he started and you winced at yet another reminder of whose daughter you were. “Tomorrow at dawn by this tree,” he said and you could not understand the meaning of his words at first and then you realised he was handing you something.

A silver ring.

You nearly gasped at the sight. He claimed to be an Uruk but the traditions he followed were Elven. Where had he even taken it from? You assumed your father had given him one. You, however, were not prepared.

“I… I do not have one,” you admitted in a whisper.

“That is alright. Just have the golden one for tomorrow,” Adar attempted to actually make a joke and you cracked a nervous smile as you reached your hand towards him. “Are you sure, my Lady? There is no going back from this.”

“I am sure,” you nodded, trying to sound as firm as possible.

Oh, you were sure. You were sure that Sauron would come for you soon and he would be pleased with your cunning schemes that would help him in the end. That he would kiss you again like in the old days, that he would put the crown onto your head and make everyone in Middle-earth to bow down for you. And that he would be grateful for your sacrifice just to bring him justice… You were sure.

Adar nodded and put the ring onto your finger. When the act was done, long silence occurred between you two. Your heart was beating fast in your chest and he eventually held your hand in his, which nearly made you feel sorry for him for a moment.

“The days of loneliness are about to be over for us,” you tried to sound sweet but not too much because it would be suspicious. “I shall serve you with advice and companionship, Lord Father.”

Adar nodded at those words and his cold hand squeezed yours even tighter.

“I shall build a new life for us where we can be ourselves freely, Dark Lady.”

And when he let go of your hand to stand up and walk away, you truly felt bad for him. You hated him for hurting Sauron but he was more than that – he was hurt and sad. His pure Elven nature was twisted and the light of Valinor was gone from his soul. What he truly needed was healing even though it was too late for him now.

You would not bring that to him, though. You were a treacherous bearer of death and all you could think of on that night before your wedding was the moment when Sauron would save you and put a crown onto your head.

MASTERLIST

#sauron x reader #adar x reader #annatar x reader #halbrand x reader #lilysfiction

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crowsoundsonly · 5 months ago

Text

beautiful.

pair: matt murdock x neighbor!fem!reader

word count: ~4.1k

summary: your hot neighbor comes by to check on you when he hears some unusual sounds coming from your apartment.

warnings: a bit of an awkward reader for the first part but she gets it together :D; smut (at the end and i marked when it starts !) fingering (f rec); one use of y/n; guys i've never actually done any ceramics or pottery so i apologize for my ignorance to anyone who actually knows what they are doing. i tried. :) i also recognize that this isn't very realistic and that you probably wouldn't be doing this with your neighbor u barely know, no matter how hot he is, but you know. fantasy and fanfic and all.

a/n: hey guys!! it has been FOREVER since i posted a fic !! i wrote this today and am kind of impulse posting it lol. i've fallen deep into the matt murdock rabbit hole and i don't think i'll be emerging anytime soon. i hope you enjoy the fic !!

The feeling of wet clay in your fingers has always grounded you. Having converted a corner of your small New York apartment into a space for your hobby, you enjoy going to your pottery wheel and creating to the melodies of your favorite songs. Tonight, you needed the outlet more than ever.

Your mind spins as you shuck off your jacket at the door. You stride to your closet to pull out the t-shirt you always wear when you sit behind the wheel, trying to focus on hurriedly changing your clothes, begging your mind to leave alone the horrifyingly embarrassing interaction you just had.

Minutes before, you had approached your building with your headphones shoved in your ears, so you had failed to hear your neighbor, your hot blind neighbor, calling out to you to hold the door. You only noticed him when the door didn’t close properly due to his body being wedged between it and the frame. Ripping your headphones out of your ears, you apologized profusely, yanking the door open for him to awkwardly shuffle through, holding his cane out in front of him before retracting it to his body.

“I am so sorry! I am so sorry I didn’t hear you,” you exclaimed, stuttering out an explanation that you hope is sufficient enough to permit his forgiveness. “I didn’t hear you. I had my headphones in. I am so sorry.”

You clutched your headphones in your hand as you let the door close behind him. If you were not so rattled, you would have taken the time to really look at him. You have never had the pleasure of actually talking to your neighbor. You have only ever caught glimpses of him on the stairwell dressed in suits, very much like the one he was sporting today.

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured, “I run into more doors than I’d like to admit.”

At his words, you noticed the easy smile that adorned his features, leading you to believe that he was not really hurt, physically or otherwise. Still unsure as to what to do and still stunned that you were talking to him at all, you just nodded your head.

“Being blind and all,” he supplied when you didn’t respond or laugh at his joke, making you realize that you had nodded to a blind man.

“I’m so sorry,” was all you could get out, not specifying what you were apologizing for.

“You closing the door on me didn’t make me blind,” he joked, trying to help the awkwardness.

“No, I’m sorry. I know. I just realized that I had nodded at you and you couldn’t see it. I’m sorry,” you said, the headphones in your hand digging into your palm, sure to leave an imprint because of how tightly you were clenching your fist.

Your ears burned with embarrassment as heat flashed over your skin. You watched him laugh a little, his shoulders shaking slightly.

“I think you have said sorry more times in the last minute than I have heard in the last month. Don’t feel bad. I’m fine,” the man said as he began to step forward. “I’m Matt, by the way.”

He stretched a hand out for you to shake, but you had forgotten the headphones in your hand, so as you reached out, they clattered to the floor.

You cursed quietly, embarrassing yourself even more, apologizing yet again. You shook his hand quickly, supplying your name before bending down to gather your things at his feet.

“I’m beginning to think that you have some sort of complex,” Matt teased as you stood up, much closer to him than you should be upon first meeting. You were close enough to actually see yourself in the reflection of his glasses and smell the cologne he had on.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for being so close, taking a step back, wanting nothing in the world other than to dart away and hide in your apartment and hope to forget this whole interaction.

All Matt did was laugh at your apology, set his cane back down on the ground, and begin tapping in front of him.

“It was nice meeting you,” he said politely as he found his way to the elevator. “Have a good evening, Y/N.”

“You, too, Matt. Sorry again.”

Your feet were stuck in place as you watched him get on the elevator, chuckling to himself. When you finally came to your senses, you began running up the stairwell, your stomach in your throat as you replayed the entire interaction with your hot neighbor in your head on an extremely embarrassing loop.

…

When Matt made it to his apartment, he stripped himself of his jacket, pulled a beer out of the fridge and sat down. He knows that he shouldn’t invade your privacy, but he was curious about what you were doing. It has been a few weeks since your first encounter at the door, and Matt’s curiosity about you has only grown. You have run into each other a handful of times since, but you tend to skirt away before the conversations can get beyond anything simply cordial.

On occasion, he will find your apartment with his ears and listen to the sound of you singing along to your music. There is often an unfamiliar sound coming from your apartment as well, one that he can’t pick out, especially when you have music playing over it. The sound is always a bit wet, so his mind initially thought of something a little more lewd than he should allow himself to think about you.

Matt listens for a moment longer, enjoying the sound of you humming and singing quietly. He was about to let his mind drift away from you until he heard a distinct clatter and a string of curses flow from your lips. He doesn’t hear anything for the next few seconds as he waits to see if you are okay. It feels like hours have passed before he hears you shuffling around your apartment, picking things up off the floor, sighing and muttering as you go. His curiosity gets the better of him, and before he can reconsider, he grabs his cane and walks out the door, intent on knocking on yours.

…

Groaning quietly, you scoop the clay off the floor. You had lost focus and control, leading you to make a mess at your wheel. With your rescued clay in hand, you begin preparing it to be molded again when you hear a knock on the door.

You are not expecting anyone, so you jump a little at the sound. Glancing down at your hands still holding the wet clay in them, you are at a loss at what to do. You shuffle to the door, peaking through the peephole.

At the sight of your neighbor, Matt, you step back and curse to yourself, embarrassed that you look a mess at the moment. He is blind, but you still don’t feel particularly presentable. Another knock at the door snaps you out of your thoughts, and in a bit of a panic, you call out, “Come in!”

The door slowly clicks open and your neighbor peeks his head through before opening it up all the way. He’s wearing slacks and a white dress shirt, tinted glasses covering his eyes, obviously having recently come home from work. You wonder how he could look so good in such a simple outfit, admiring the way his torso tapers down into his hips.

“Hi, Matt,” you breathe, clutching the clay in your hands, realizing that you are dripping a bit in your doorway. “Is everything okay?” you ask, still confused as to why he is at your door.

“I guess I was coming to ask you that. I was walking by and heard some thuds and wanted to make sure you were okay,” he smiles, leaning slightly on his cane.

“Oh! Yes,” you rush out. “I’m fine. I was just doing some pottery and I, um, my clay kind of flew off the wheel a bit. Would you like to come in for a minute?”

You had asked the question before really considering what that could mean. Without hesitation, Matt agrees and steps through the door with a few taps of his cane.

“You make pottery,” he states, a smirk on his face making you feel like there is some joke you aren’t understanding behind his words.

“Yeah, I converted a bit of my apartment into a studio for it,” you say as you start to walk further into your apartment. The clay in your hands starts to weigh heavy as you realize that it is keeping you from leading Matt around. “Sorry, let me put my clay down and I can help you to the couch.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Matt says, followed by your name. Your heart stutters at the sound of your name on his lips. “I can get around fine. Am I facing the right way at least?”

Your mind is racing, trying to catch up with what is happening. You thought that your embarrassing first encounter would have turned him off of ever wanting to get to know you, but it doesn’t seem to be deterring him.

“Yes, just about four steps in front of you is the back of the couch.”

You watch him begin to maneuver around the room before coming to your senses and swiftly setting your clay back down on the wheel. When you turn back around, he has settled into the couch and is folding up his cane.

“Let me wash my hands,” you mumble, striding to the kitchen to scrub the clay off your fingers.

Matt begins making conversation, asking, “How long have you been making pottery?”

He is kind to ask, seemingly genuine in his interest. Over the sounds of the faucet you answer, “I took a class in college. Picked it up as a hobby and have been doing it ever since.”

You can hear him hum as you turn off the sink, drying your hands. Tentatively, you join Matt on the couch, sure to leave a cushion of space between you.

“Do you want something to drink? Beer? Water?” you offer, standing before he even has time to answer.

“Water would be great, thanks,” he replies. You notice the way his lips turn up in a smile and his head cocks to the side as he talks, finding it quirky, if not charming.

You take a few deep breaths at the sink, calming your nerves that have your mind in a jumbled mess. Your hot, well-dressed neighbor is sitting on your couch, happily engaging in small talk as you sit in a ratty t-shirt and shorts. “What am I doing?” you quietly ask yourself as you pick up the glasses off the counter and bring them to Matt, waiting patiently on the couch.

When you offer him the glass, he thanks you softly, bringing the rim to his lips. You can’t help but watch intently, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of doing more with those lips than watching them.

“What do you do for work, Matt?” you ask quickly, trying to distract your own mind from your wandering thoughts.

“I’m a defense attorney. My friend and I have a firm we started together,” he says as he puts his glass down on the coffee table. You are impressed that he even knew it was there, but before you can think too long about it, he has asked you the same question.

“I’m an English teacher,” you say between sips. “At the high school on 76th. Twelfth grade.”

“Admirable,” he laughs. “I hated my English teacher.”

“Everyone who doesn’t end up studying English hated their high school English teachers,” you joke. “What did they make you read? Grapes of Wrath?”

This only causes Matt to laugh more as he nods, “Worst book I’ve read in my life.”

“Yeah, that one is a tough read,” you concede. “But at least it’s better than The Odyssey.”

“Well, you’ve got me there,” he smiles.

You are not exactly sure what Matt had hoped would happen when he knocked on your door, but you are sure it wasn’t to discuss literature.

“I’m sorry. I can somehow always bring books into the conversation. Is there something I can do for you, Matt?”

He shakes his head slightly, smile only growing wider. “No, I love reading so don’t apologize for talking about it,” he assures you. “And like I said, I was just coming by to make sure you were okay.”

“Right,” you breathe, nodding and smiling. “I’m fine. Just the clay.”

The two of you fall into easy conversation for the next hour, getting to know each other. You discovered that you both frequent Josie’s, the bar around the corner, surprised that you have never run into each other there. He teases you about your first meeting, calling you out for the plethora of sorries you said.

You enjoy talking to Matt. You find that it is almost effortless to do so. The conversation is seamless and you eventually make your way back to the topic of ceramics where you had started.

“Can I listen while you work?” he asks you. “I have always wanted to try pottery but never got around to taking a class.”

Shocked that he is asking to stay longer, and that he is asking with such surety, you agree.

“Yes, of course. You’re welcome to. Would you, um, would you like to try it?”

You glance again at his clothes which are far too nice to be doing pottery in, but you asked the question before you ever considered that.

“Could I? I would love to, if that’s okay,” he says, looking adorably eager.

“Of course. It is a little bit messy,” you say, getting up to find some clothes for him to change into. “Let me grab you some sweats or something.”

Shifting through your drawers, you find a pair of sweatpants big enough for him to wear. You bring them out and find that he has already unbuttoned his shirt, giving you a clear vision of his incredibly toned torso. Your breath catches at the sight, eyes unmoving as he removes the article entirely.

“I found some sweats,” you mumble, your throat suddenly dry. “I can find a shirt, too.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses, grabbing the sweats from your hands. “I don’t want to get all your clothes dirty.”

You breathe out a quiet, “Okay,” before leading him gently to the bathroom to change his pants.

When the door has closed behind him, you let yourself catch your breath, mind going into panic-mode as you comprehend what is about to happen. You are about to teach your hot, blind shirtless neighbor, Matt, how to work with wet clay. How in the world did you get here?

Suddenly, the door is open and Matt is shuffling to the middle of the room, glasses and dress pants removed. You grab his elbow and guide him to the stool in front of the pottery wheel. He sits down, and you let out a quiet breath.

“You ready?” you ask, pulling up another stool behind him.

“I’m ready,” he answers as he stretches his hands out to find the clay.

You start the wheel up and guide his hands with your own, reaching around him, one arm going over his bare, sculpted shoulder, the other weaving under it. Your skin tingles as your arm presses into his side, hyper aware of every centimeter of contact. Wet hands push and mold the clay, helping it take shape.

You can hear his breath falling short as you help him cup his hands over the clay. You talk softly, whispering directions and guidance.

“You’re doing great, Matt. You’re a natural,” you praise, causing his breath to hitch.

“I have a good teacher,” he whispers as his head leans back slightly to direct his comment to your mouth.

When you have a good round shape going, you press his thumb into the center gently, your chest pressing into his back in order to angle his hand correctly. Your heart pounds in your ears, hips shifting on the stool.

“Beautiful,” you breathe as the clay begins taking the form of a small cup. “You were perfect.”

“Thank you for teaching me.”

When your project is complete, you take your hands away from the clay and slow the wheel down until it comes to a stop. You do not move from your position around Matt yet, instead electing to guide his hands to the bowl of water you have beside the wheel. You submerge Matt’s large, calloused hands in the water, gliding your fingers over his palms in an effort to loosen the shell of clay forming around them. Your fingers weave through his as you clean them, the feeling of his knuckles catching on yours has a subtle heat surging to your core. You feel the raised scars that litter his hands and wonder who he fought to get them.

Matt’s eyes are closed as you work with his hands, your chest still pressed to his back. You hear him whisper your name, drawing your eyes to his. You know he can’t see you, but you feel his attention on you, making your skin flush with heat. He leans in slowly, his nose nudging yours before finding your lips with his own.

The kiss is slow, soft, unsure. Your breath flutters out of your nose as his lips begin to move. The feeling of his beard scratching at your chin causes your stomach to tighten and hands to grip his in the water. His tongue comes to press against your top lip, silently asking for entrance. You grant it as you tilt your head, finding the angle where your lips perfectly slot with his.

“Matt,” you mumble against his lips, causing him to pull away slightly, “come with me.”

You stand up slowly and wrap your hands in a towel, drying Matt’s with it as well. He stands up quietly and links his hands in yours, shuffling behind you. You guide him to the bathroom and turn on the spray of water from the shower head.

“I’m just going to wash your arms,” you explain. You know he could wash them himself, but you want to have an excuse to keep touching him. Your heart hasn’t stopped its steady thumping since you sat behind Matt at the wheel, and the pace only quickens when you help him put his beautifully toned forearms under the water.

For being so confident on the surface, Matt is exceptionally quiet. You expected maybe a few more suggestive comments or pick up lines, but instead, Matt has kept silent, only mumbling small thank you’s and hums. His eyebrows knit together in what looks to be contentment, almost bliss.

You run your fingers over his arms, fingernails scratching at his skin, rinsing away any remaining clay. When you have finished, you begin washing yourself, and having sensed this, Matt stops your movement and replaces your hands with his own. He quietly glides his palms over your forearms, scratching over your wrists. The tender actions have your breath coming in shallow pants as your eyes flutter closed at the feeling.

“Beautiful,” Matt whispers, parroting your comment from earlier.

You pull your hands out of the water, turning it off. Matt’s hands never leave your body. They slide up your arms and cascade down your waist. His lips find yours again as your wet hands weave their way through his hair. You gently press your hips to his which causes his breath to catch and hitch in a way that has you pressing yourself even further into him.

After a few more kisses, Matt pulls away for a second and removes his hands from your waist to loop them around your wrists.

“No one has ever been as gentle with me as you have been,” he says in a voice that is barely audible.

“You deserve it, Matt,” you say before leaning in to kiss him again.

(Smut begins here)

The two of you make your way out of the bathroom and back to the couch where your glasses of water were left unfinished. You lay down and guide Matt to the space between your knees. His hips press into yours, your core clenching and burning at the friction. Lips find each other as one of his hands comes to rest above his head while the other nudges its way beneath your shirt at your hip.

“Is this okay?” he asks softly, eyes open and gazing unfocused at your collarbones.

“Yes,” you breathe, “more than okay.”

At your words of consent, his hips start moving against your core, igniting a fire below your navel. His hands, still damp from the shower, slide up your bare waist, skimming below your breast. You had rid yourself of your bra when you had come home from work, completely unaware that you would be in this position a few hours later. Because of this, Matt has unadulterated access which you are more than happy to grant him.

Your hips roll into his, back arching when his thumb grazes your nipple. He hushes the quiet sigh that escapes you with a kiss, sliding his hand down your back. His lips move behind your ear, down your throat, and over the exposed skin of your collarbone. His hips have not stopped their slow circles, and your own meet him in rhythm.

You can feel your panties becoming soaked by the second, and as if he can read your mind, he pulls you up to straddle his lap, his hand coming to press gently to your core. You gasp at the pressure which elicits a smile and a hum from Matt.

“Can I touch you here?” he asks quietly.

You nod and whisper, “Please.”

“Can I take these off?”

Before he can help you, you stand up and slide your shorts down your legs and climb back in his lap.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, the words shooting straight to your core. You clench around nothing, your hips rolling in search of friction. Shaky breaths flutter from your lips, and the sound drives Matt crazy.

In one motion, Matt kisses you hard and open mouthed as his fingers push your panties to the side, pressing into your wet core. You suck in a breath at the feeling of his fingers swiping up and down, finding place inside of you. They move in and out, nudging the spot that has you arching and keening in his lap.

“I like listening to you,” he murmurs into your lips, capturing them in a kiss that has you moaning into his mouth. “Your breaths. Your moans. Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

His words draw a sigh from your lips, your hands clutching his bare shoulders as his fingers drive in and out of you. Covered in you, they find your pearl, pressing and stroking. It doesn’t take long for the coil in your core to tighten, your eyes to clench, and your hips to roll against his fingers.

“I’m so close,” you mumble, sighing and moaning as you chase your release.

“That’s it,” Matt says softly. “Let go.”

At that moment, the pressure in your hips releases and you let yourself come on his fingers, clenching around them as his thumb rubs over your clit. He guides you through it, kissing you as his other hand cradles your head.

“You were perfect, sweetheart,” he says, his praise soothing as you come down from your high. Your heart starts slowing its pace as you melt into Matt. He pulls his fingers out and wraps his arms around you, taking you in as you collapse into his form. You sit silently together for a minute while you catch your breath. You listen to his breathing, your face pressed into the crook of his neck.

“Matt,” you say, at which he hums in acknowledgment. “Thanks for coming to check on me.”

He lets out a laugh that comes out more like a huff. “Of course. I’m glad you were okay.”

“Do you want to come over again? I could show you how to make a bowl next time.”

He laughs but does not give an immediate response. For a second you thought that he was going to say no, your body panicking, your heart rate spiking, but before you started overthinking everything, he answers, “I would love to. And I’ll bring dinner next time.”

a/n: thank you so so much for reading !! check out my masterlist with a few other fics if you want more !!

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nanamissuit · 11 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/honestlyhiswife/738465618711412736

This! This as well!! Please!

I know I'm just spamming your asks now.

Forgive me. 😭😭

"Just a one-night stand? Really?" - Ghost/Price

I’m SOOO happy people are spamming my inbox please don’t apologize and I am actually sorry the other owner of this acc with me is swamped with other irl stuff so I’m trying to get to as many as I can <3 I think you wanted Ghost for this but this also suits Price I think!!

Pairing: Ghost x GN! Reader/ Price x Gn! Reader MDNI

Warnings: Mentions of one night stand, other than that fluff.

Price:

You woke up with the most horrific pounding headache and the light from the window did not help. And then you took a good look around... This is NOT your room, it was some random guy's room and you scanned it carefully trying to recall what happened the night before but all you remember is getting really wasted.

You checked your phone and saw a text message from your friend asking if you were okay but you didn’t have the energy to respond and apparently not the muscle to either seeing as you were tangled up in this guy's arms.

You slowly started to try and get up as you slipped out of his arms and walked to put your shoes and jacket on. He started to stir awake and turned to face you.

“We didn’t do anything...Right?” You asked him as You got a good look at his face and Your jaw dropped. He was surely handsome but also seemed like he was older than you.

“Mm well, you did ride me for a while...Otherwise, no nothing else, come back to bed.” He grumbled at you as he opened his arms for you to lay in. “Sir, I don’t even know you-” “You knew me well enough to ride me just come lay down, please. I’ll explain everything later.” He then sat up a little and ended up pulling off your coat as you slipped your shoes off.

“Oh- okay well I guess it couldn’t hurt I have nowhere to be.” You said softly to him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “Mhm..I don’t want this to just be a one-night thing so we can talk when I fully wake up.” you were shocked to hear that from a man you had just met but you decided not to argue about it and just went back to sleep with him.

Ghost:

You woke up with a slight pain in your legs and a little headache, the room seemingly dark. You checked your phone to see it was 9:12 AM but the room you were in had black curtains so no sun was peeking into the room...Wait…This isn’t your room?

You silently panicked as you turned around to see a broad man's chest in your face and you jumped back a little. “Shit.” You thought to yourself as you tried slipping out of his arms he just clanged tighter as you looked up at him.

“If you’re gonna ask, yes we did have sex. Now stop moving, I'm just trying to cuddle you.” “Sir-?” “We can talk later can’t you just enjoy the moment, cause you seemed to enjoy a whole lot last night..” He interrupted and it shut you up quickly as you looked up to see who the mysterious man telling you this was.

WOW. He looked to have blonde hair and scars on his face with a little face stubble. He was handsome and oddly had a comforting look on his face for a man You had randomly hooked up with. You tried to move up more but your legs were so sore you winced in a bit of pain.

“Ow..” “Hm? Oh. Here let me massage your legs.” He slowly raised you up so he could reach your legs as his calloused hands massaged your soft and tender skin. You felt a lot better no doubt.

“We’re definitely not keeping this as a one-night stand, you’re far beyond too pretty for me to try and let go of.” “I- okay I don’t know what to say, what's even your name-?” “Shh, just let me take care of you, it’s Simon. We’ll talk later.”

AHHH I LOVED WRITING THIS!! Def gonna try and write some more as I'm also in a different state right now but I'm not too busy so I could probably write a lot more, please send in any requests <3!!

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glitterypin · 2 months ago

Text

rewatching 'The Caretaker' and by gods, I fucking hate Danny Pink so much - if you like Danny Pink, please stop reading right here, you are not going to enjoy the rest of this post, but I need to vent.

I think I gave him a proper chance when I first watched Season 8, I don't recall disliking him all that much back then, but the more I rewatch it, the more I want to punch his teeth out. Case in point:

-I just want to know who you are! -You know who I am! -When you're with him. When you're with the Doctor.

Like, excuse you, you insufferable fuckface, people contain multitudes. Who the fuck do you think you are to demand to witness a relationship you are not a part of? Hey, she's also different when she's with her grandma, do you want to pop by with her for a visit before you go on?

That Clara actually goes with it just straight up baffles me. Not because I think better of her, the whole invisibility watch scheme is very much up the alley of "doing dumb shit thinking I'll get away with it" that we're used to expect from Clara (I forgive her for most of them because I love her, btw, that girl is a mess), but Clara is also stubborn and proud, I don't understand why she doesn't tear him a new one for this.

I think a lot of the plausibility of the whole Danny arc hinges on us believing that Clara loves Danny very, very much, but that is in itself implausible for me, I truly don't understand what she sees in him - mind you, I don't mean there aren't good things about him, he's nice, he's handsome (not my type), he's reliable but he's also an idiot and a soldier and while I can see why other people would love him, I don't see why Clara would. He never even travels on the TARDIS, he's not even curious about it.

My current theory is that Clara loves him because she meets Orson. That she wouldn't choose him otherwise, but meeting Orson she believes her future is with Danny and just accepts that as truth and behaves accordingly. Like autosuggestion or something. It also occurs to me that in many ways Danny is the polar opposite of the Twelfth Doctor and Clara being pulled towards both of them is just a sign that she doesn't fucking know what she wants - very plausible.

But the problem is that neither of these routes are actually explored in the show, so we just have to take everything at face value. Danny is a good guy. Clara loves him. His death is a tragic event. Clara loved him so much she loses herself when he's gone. Let's pretend his departure wasn't a huge relief all around.

Anyway, yeah, sorry, Danny, if you were paired with someone else maybe I would like you better but you were absolute shit for Clara.

#clara oswald #danny pink #doctor who #twelfth doctor #the caretaker #s08e06

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reidsaurora · 1 year ago

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Hi hi hi I’ll take one leo birthday cake because we are leo baby twins with the prompt “you bought me flowers?” And Spence as a character. But since we are leo babies can I add a sprinkle of enemies to lovers co-workers??

grecy love, i am so so sorry this took so long to post 😭 i had every intention of posting this on your birthday and then writer's block happened and depression happened and health problems happened and it was a whole thing 😭💔 but i hope you enjoyed what i whipped up!! 🫶🏻

"Birthday Bouquet" ~ S. Reid

pairing: autistic!spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: "of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand spencer reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday."

word count: 1,516

warnings: a lil angsty with a hint of miscommunication trope, mild swearing, i believe that's all!

genre: angst to fluff

extra notes: the end of this was rushed i won't lie, i pray you can all forgive me for that lol; the dividers in this post are from @anlian-aishang as always 🫶🏻

beta read by: @theghouligan and @dungeons-are-too-cold (love you both so so much 🥰)

birthday bash | masterlist | ask box

🧁 Leo Baby Birthday Cake - send me a character + a prompt from this list and i'll write you a blurb!

Of two things you were certain: the first, you couldn't stand Spencer Reid; the second, he was the only person who remembered your birthday.

You tried to cut your colleagues some slack. You were away on a case, after all. Everyone was probably busy dealing with their own shit, not to mention how rough it had been the past 48 hours working on the case. But still, not a single person had so much as wished you a happy birthday, and it wasn't until he caught you alone at the hotel that Spencer said anything.

After a long day of geographical profiling and visiting dump sites, all you wanted was to take a long shower and sleep as much as you could before another long day tomorrow.

At this point, you weren't sure if you even cared about your own birthday anymore. A full night's sleep was the only thing on your birthday wishlist currently. But when you walked into your hotel room and spotted that vase of red and white tulips, your jaw nearly dropped to the floor.

Clearly, someone had remembered, you just weren't sure who. So, naturally, you picked up the card, brows furrowing as you registered the all-too-recognizable chicken scratch handwriting on the back of it.

"These variegated flowers are one in a hundred thousand, but you are the only one of your kind. Happy birthday." - S. R.

Your heart flipped as you processed the words, a happy but surprised tear threatening to fall from your eye.

"Do you normally leave your door open for strangers?"

You turned to face Spencer, his signature sideways smile tugging at his lips. "You bought me flowers?" you asked in shock, your eyes meeting his.

He shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. "I did," he admitted, eyes darting away shyly, "Happy birthday."

The exhaustion of the day must've had you unsure how to properly respond, because the next thing you knew, you were forcing back tears that were beginning to sting behind your eyes, and motioning him into your room. After he closed the door, you spoke again, your voice barely above a whisper. "You know, you're the only person who's told me that today."

His sideways smile quickly turned into a frown. "I'm sorry, Y/N." From what you could tell, he seemed sincere, which felt strange since he otherwise seemed to hate your guts.

You simply shrugged, deciding the pain was easy enough to deal with without his help. "I can't believe you remembered."

He gave a soft nod of his head. "Of course I remembered."

"I honestly thought you'd be the last person to remember. Although, you do have that eidetic memory, so-"

"I remembered," he corrected. "Actually remembered. I made a conscious effort to remember."

Your brows furrowed, confusion swirling around in your mind and muddling your thoughts. You wondered why Spencer, your sworn enemy, would take the time to remember your birthday? Why would he allow even the smallest of crevices in his brain to be consumed by thoughts of you?

"What? I thought you hated me…" your voice trailed off, your eyes darting to look at the flowers, the ground, anywhere but his gaze.

You could almost hear the hurt and confusion in his voice when he spoke again. "I never hated you. If anything, I always thought you hated me."

You sighed, figuring you might as well tell him the truth. "I did. I mean, you're always correcting me. You won't even look at me half the time. I don’t think you’ve ever accepted one of my hugs or even a handshake for that matter. And just last week, when I tried to offer you one of my crackers from the vending machine, you looked like you were gonna throw up. I mean -"

"Y/N," he said with a soft chuckle. Your gaze shot up to meet him and that familiar look of discomfort took over his expression.

"Why are you laughing?" you asked, confusion racing through your mind.

"Because," he laughed again, a little louder this time, "I never hated you, Y/N. I just… I'm autistic."

You looked away again with slow blinks, burying your face in your hands. Embarrassment and guilt filled your gut, and you were honestly unsure how you hadn't connected the dots sooner. "I'm such an ass."

He pulled your hands away from your face, and you were quite shocked, considering how much the man hated physical touch. "It's okay. You couldn't have known. I don't really tell anybody because some people think it'll slow them down on the field or in the office."

A pout formed on your lips at the thought. Sure, you were sworn enemies with the man—or so you'd thought—but you could never imagine someone being mean to him like that.

Your hands fidgeted as you thought about what to say next, but if you had to be truthful, you weren't really sure what you could say. You wanted to kick yourself for being an ass, for creating an environment where Spencer felt like he couldn’t be open with you. But mostly, you currently wanted to kick yourself for noticing how pretty he looked at that moment.

"You still there?" he chuckled, hands sliding into his pockets.

Your shoulders shrugged again as you brought yourself back to reality. "Yeah," you answered, probably a little too quickly. "Um, thank you for the flowers, they're lovely."

In a couple swift motions, you were all but shoving him out of your room. "Wait-" he began to protest as you started to close the door.

"It's late, we should sleep. Not together!" you panicked over your words. "I just mean we should both get some sleep before the flight home tomorrow. In our own respective rooms. Our respective rooms in this hotel, that is. Obviously you can't go home and rest in your bedroom. That's what the flight is for!" With every word that flew out of your mouth, you cringed harder. Finally, you settled on telling him, "Good night, Reid," before finally getting him out the door.

Your back rested against the now closed door, fingers sifting through your hair as you attempted to collect your thoughts.

Why would you think Spencer of all people was attractive all of a sudden? Up until two minutes ago, you thought he hated you. Up until two minutes ago, you hated him too.

Or maybe that's just what you'd been telling yourself…

A subtle tap against the door had you coming up for air yet again. You made a mental note to tell your therapist about your sudden bout of brain fog.

As he did before, Spencer stood on the other side of the door, hands fidgeting and eyes struggling to maintain contact with yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he all but blurted out.

Either this was a dream or your ears deceived you. There was no way Spencer Reid, the guy who wouldn't even shake hands with people, wanted to kiss you. Or wanted to kiss you. "What?"

"You just… you look really pretty and you seem nervous, and kissing actually produces endorphins, which help relax the body. Although, I guess hugging works the same way, but kissing spreads less pathogens than hugging, and- now I'm rambling, aren't I?"

He must've caught the nervous giggle you were struggling to hold back. "Yeah, you do that a lot. But it's okay. It's kind of endearing."

His face went fully red at your comment. "So… is that a yes?"

You gave him a nod, though you couldn't shake the anxiety in the pit of your stomach. Your hands moved to his cheeks, pulling him down for a slow kiss. It felt like electricity pumping through your veins, butterflies swirling around in your tummy, and just about every other cliche you could think of. His kiss was intoxicating, and if you hadn't needed to come up for air, so to speak, you probably would've stayed there like that all night.

He leaned his forehead against yours, his jaw nearly dropping to the floor. "Woah," he exhaled with all the amazement of a kid at an amusement park.

"Woah," you copied. You couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips. "I can't believe that just happened."

"Me either," he admitted with a nervous shrug. "But… I wouldn't mind doing it again."

You let out a shaky exhale, resting your forehead against his. "Well, for future reference, you don't have to ask. That was… woah."

"So, I can just-"

Without warning, he pulled you in for another kiss, and the butterflies fluttering around in your stomach multiplied tenfold.

He pulled away, scratching at the back of his neck. "Sorry. I just really enjoyed that."

You gave him a soft smile as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer for a soft hug. "I did too."

"So I can just keep kissing you? Over and over? As much as I want?"

You nodded against his chest. "That's the plan now, I guess."

"Woah."

You giggled against him, warmth filling you from head to toe. "Woah, indeed."

-> taglist: @lowsodiumfreaks67 @drayshadow @alexxavicry @nomajdetective @kbakery @leigh70 @darkloverfox @sammyrenae68 @cherrycandle @asgardprincess97 @gh0stgurl @esposadomd @randomwriter1021 @eddieharrington @lunar-affection @givemeth @lavhoes @rhyanishere @cat-lockwood @danielle143 @marsmallow433 @handsupforamiracle @topguncultleader @mente-sindescanso @reverieofmgg @spencer-reids-adventures @ah-blossom @encyclo-reid-ia @reidselle @thevisionthedream @dungeons-are-too-cold @louderfortheback @reidsbookclub @annahalstead5021 @cwritesforfun @maelartasch @buckyyyismahhlife @cynbx @hellooitsrose @lover-of-books-and-tea @therealrazortai

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ao3cassandraic · 1 year ago

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Saraqael, Heaven's Only Competent Angel

Season 2 got terrifically lucky with Liz Carr. Fantastic casting choice for a decidedly intriguing angel.

Saraqael strikes me as a Chief Operating Officer type. Judging from the colors of her lapels and Muriel's ascotty thing, Muriel is in her chain of command (near or at the bottom, naturally). Those colors also suggest that Saraqael, archangel or no, is a step down from Michael and Uriel. The big archangels don't wear plaids.

When Muriel goes to Saraqael with the matchbox, she makes a quick (and bureaucratically correct) decision to bring it to Michael and Uriel. She approaches them politely, with the correct form of address even, but fearlessly and without undue fawning. Good for her.

While Michael and Uriel are being completely and utterly useless, Saraqael heads over to the Realtime Big Globe and starts searching, zeroing in on the miracle plume quickly. So she's upper management, but she hasn't lost all ability to do hands-on OSINT. Intriguing.

Saraqael stops the standoff at Aziraphale's bookshop door with a firm but polite "Shall we discuss this inside?" She's also the one with the measurement of miracle strength, which fits a manager who still keeps her hand in. Otherwise, she observes -- and unlike Michael and Uriel, she doesn't give away anything. (Lord, Michael. "Did we [mention we were looking for Gabriel]?" It was the first thing Uriel said! Y'all get your good-cop-bad-cop story straight beforehand next time.)

And it's competent-ops Saraqael who decides on action: sending Muriel down for miracle verification and keeping a close eye on Aziraphale. Aziraphale calls this "very professional of you," and he's not wrong, considering Heaven's twisted, surveillance-laced notions of professionalism. Saraqael does her job.

Somebody definitely needed to coach Muriel better about fitting in on Earth, but I'm willing to forgive Saraqael that one; it's probably not her job to do that, but Muriel's line manager's job. Muriel's 37th-level -- I have to assume there's a line manager or two (or twelve) between them and Saraqael. Plus, of course, all the angels (except Aziraphale, possibly Sandalphon, and the Metatron) are ruinously terrible at Earthing -- s2 continues the s1 throughline of the archangels being seen on Earth only rarely and briefly.

Another moment of Michael's utter uselessness, incidentally -- in the Job minisode, when she archangelsplains the meaning of "Shuhite" our timorous Aziraphale actually rolls his eyes, and Gabriel quiets her with one hand. She's actually right to be suspicious (this happens often in s2), just terrible at actually communicating her suspicions such that anyone else will take action on them.

(I actually have considerable sympathy for Michael here. I have also 'splained a mighty 'splain professionally in my time, and had many eyes rolled at me. Michael's right. So was I. But so it goes. Knowledge without adroit communication isn't worth much.)

Saraqael recognizes Crowley in his bee!demon disguise immediately (unlike Michael and Uriel, again), but notice that she doesn't raise any alarms and she doesn't even bother punishing Muriel. (I am a bit sorry she doesn't get to take a crack at his horrific garb. Missed opportunity there.) With the Metatron's find-Gabriel mandate still in place, she lets the situation run to see if Crowley will get her closer to finding Gabriel -- which, in fact, he does! So she knows when not to act hastily, too.

In the meeting about the Second Coming, and at Gabriel's trial, Saraqael again observes but mostly holds her peace. Her opsness comes to the fore again when they decide to mindwipe Gabriel; she's the one to set it in motion via her glass phone, and she's the one to report that he can't be found. As ops, though, she doesn't unilaterally decide what to do -- she asks.

(And the Metatron, extremely punchable boss that he is, throws the worst and least accurate possible insult at her! Look, I'm not expert at British English or anything, but "wet" seems to mean "whingy halfhearted coward," and that is so not Saraqael! Ugh, if Gabriel learned management from the Metatron, no wonder he's such a horror in s1.)

So we're set up very well for the angels-and-demons bookshop scene. Does Saraqael act swiftly when told to? Yep -- if not for Crowley, Maggie and Nina would be table seasonings.

Does Saraqael observe, and draw correct conclusions? I think so. Because I'm on the side of things that thinks she rumbled the human-guise Metatron well before Crowley gave the game away to Aziraphale, yet said nothing. Very intriguing.

Here's where I'm going with all this. Two points, actually:

Point one: Maybe it wasn't the Metatron who mindwiped Crowley, since that's a thing that sure seems to have happened. (That would leave human-Enoch-becomes-the-Metatron theories intact.) Maybe it was Saraqael. Who worked with Crowley on the Horsehead Nebula, and might well have heard him asking dangerous questions. Whose job mindwiping apparently is. I'm not wedded to this theory, but gosh, it sure is interesting.

Point two: Organizations can shamble along like zombies with consistently crappy ops (a lot of us have probably worked for such; I sure have). An organization that had competent ops but suddenly loses it, however, is boned, humped, screwed, at least temporarily and quite possibly permanently.

If I were Aziraphale, wanting to ruin the Metatron and wreck Heaven's whole deal, the very first angel I'd want to subvert, recruit, or -- and I hope this doesn't happen but I'm not ruling it out, because if I'm right about what Saraqael did to Crowley, Aziraphale's gonna go postal when he finds out -- destroy, would be Saraqael.

#gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens #good omens meta #saraqael #crowley #aziraphale #the fucking metatron #michael #uriel #the heaven non-brain trust

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dropthedemiurge · 7 months ago

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Boys Be Brave [EP.3] // Translation notes

Alright, I got prompted by @turndon100-blog @okiedokie2216 @lurkingshan and the ending of Ep.3 gave me hype boost so I'll try to write some clarification and translation for the scenes from my phone while I still remember everything xD Sorry if this is not going to be as well formatted as my other language posts tho...

Kiseob wants to prove to Jinwoo that he perfectly fits his entire "My ideal type" checklist and he lists all the things he nails. This might've been confusing to many in subs, but the thing is - 첫눈 (chot nun) in Korean can both mean "first sight" and "first snow". So Jinwoo immediately argues that Kiseob failed to achieve being perfect in all to-do points because Jinwoo hasn't fallen in love with him at first sight (as he mentions it in the beginning of the episode). But Kiseob confidently argues that no, there was no first snow this winter yet and shows the December article that says first snow is late this year and might only fall in January.

So technically Jinwoo can still fall in love with Kiseob at first snow and achieve perfect 10/10, therefore no failure yet! Poor Jinwoo can't argue with that logic... (That frustrated little jiggly stomping lmao)

This message also said that he better pay that credit back until Friday, otherwise there will be extra fee.

He said "Choi BalgEum. Look at me" (or focus on me) 🥺

눈치 없어 (nunchi opseo) is a phrase that literally means "have no sense" (it also was formed from 눈 - eyes, as I can guess), but it's used in the context of being perceptive (눈치 있어/nunchi isseo, having sense), feeling the subtext or nonverbal clues - and, well, the lack of it on the opposite, like being clueless.

So Balgeum actually means "Can't you see? Don't you understand the implications?"(of him holding Kiseob's hand) "I asked, don't you realize?" Stop following me around like a clueless fool" (he said that "having no sense" phrase 3 times in a row, who are you trying to fool here yourself, my guy lol)

Balgeum also curses twice at his piano not-friend-situationship. Here he says after asking to stop following him: "It's fucking embarrassing". Probably, the fact that he keeps showing up and asking to talk to him, but can also mean doing this while he obviously "has a boyfriend".

When they meet in evening, he also curses again "why the fuck do you keep appearing?" Balgeum is just definitely trying to hurt him as much as possible :(

This translation works but just to clarify - Kiseob says "Why do you often hide?". So he doesn't just ask why Jinwoo were still hiding under bed while he was talking to him, he was asking why Jinwoo was running away and hiding from him all the time (while he likes him).

"I hated you back then and I hate you now, that's why I run away."

And I just love the phrase 아니잖아... (anijanha) that he gets in response. Because it means "That's not true... (and you know it too)". There's literally a grammar point in Korean that lets you insist on something you know that the other person also should be aware of. So Balgeum angrily claims he ran away in the past and he runs away now because he hates Inho (I hope that's his name, forgive me if anything), and Inho counter argues that no, he doesn't hate him. And implies they both know it. That's why Balgeum resorts to less angry "Think whatever you want".

And the fact that even after this, Balgeum kept playing up his masquarade and saying he wants to vomit even thinking about that they had something, that he regrets it every day - no wonder Inho finally snaps and calls him an asshole/scum when he didn't use cursing before, unlike Balgeum, and so the i-dont-wanna-hurt-you-but-i-am-emotional "fight" begins.

But here we have a silver lining!

"- Meet me only three times... - I got it (what you want), so... (let go of me)"

알겠다 (al'getta) literally means "I know/I understand" but (going with my intuition) it's used naturally in cases that you understood the information you were given, received instructions and will follow them.

I'm not sure what Ep.4 will bring, but I won't be surprised if Balgeum and Inho actually will go to 3 dates because Balgeum sounded like he was giving in, after letting out his anger/fear/frustration/etc through wrestling with Inho. His final verdict for Inho pleading him to go on 3 dates with him is: "Let me go. I told you, I understand (your request and I will consider it most likely in a positive way)"

Here you go! These guys grow on me more and more with every episode. I am fascinated to see Jinwoo ditching his perfectly planned schedule, Kiseob finally refusing to follow where other people drag him, Inho fighting to make his love exist despite brutal rejections and punches, and Balgeum's carefully crafted defense walls breaking as he lets a glimmer of hope and love return to his life.

This show isn't deep at all, it's foolish and yet I'm starting to see layers and development and I'm intrigued where they all will go.

If you've got any other questions about this or previous episodes, let me know! (With timecodes preferrable)

#boys be brave #boys be brave comments #kbl #korean bl #dropthemeta #dropthemeta kbl #learning languages #korean language #translation notes #language details #lost in translation

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least-carpet · 1 year ago

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I am curious: how do you think would work realistically a jc and wwx's reconciliation? Have you any meta on them and their relationship?

I'm sorry this took a minute, anon! Work has been frankly chaotic. But I saw an anti-reconciliation post¹ and I have been roused from my post-work stupor.

Unfortunately, you asked me for something I'm incompetent at, which is plotting. (Otherwise I would have already unleashed my ningcheng fic upon the world.) What I can talk about is what I find compelling about potential reconciliation and potential scenarios.

Why do I love a post-canon reconciliation?

Apart from really liking their relationship and finding it compelling—IMO it's the heart of the narrative of the first life—what I actually enjoy about it is what it offers in terms of development for Wei Wuxian.

I read Wei Wuxian as having displaced and projected a lot of his unresolved trauma onto Jiang Cheng. I've talked a little before about my reading of Jiang Cheng as the "bad feelings" sin eater of the Yunmeng Trio—neither Jiang Yanli nor Wei Wuxian feel like they can express deep unhappiness, but Jiang Cheng is bad at hiding his, so in some way it's his job to embody the collective unhappiness of the children of that family system.

But although this makes Wei Wuxian merry and likeable, it's not actually good for anyone, or even sustainable—when he loses control, he really loses control. And his coping skills are extremely self-destructive, as we can see from the post-war downward spiral of drinking and avoidance. I also think his experiences in his childhood (losing his parents and being homeless) plus his wartime experiences gave him some kind of trauma disorder that contributes to his terrible memory, which he's turned into his primary coping mechanism (apart from alcohol). If I Simply Close My Eyes And Run Away, My Bad Feelings Can't Get Me!

But, like, repressing your feelings doesn't work forever. He's compartmentalized his whole first life to function in the second one, but that means giving up on everything and everyone he loved, including the Jiang siblings and Lotus Pier. That's incredibly tragic to me.

Sometimes I think antis are so happy to demonize Jiang Cheng in order to minimize the depth of the loss Wei Wuxian has suffered. If he never loved Jiang Cheng, if they were never close and devoted to one another, if their childhood was an unending misery, then wouldn't Wei Wuxian be much freer in the present?

But what I think has happened is that the loss is so huge that it's completely terrifying and threatening. So are the feelings around killing Jin Zixuan, Jiang Yanli's death, and the death of Wen Qing and the Wen remnants. It's too much, so he blocks it out or, in some cases, projects it onto Jiang Cheng.

Of course, Jiang Cheng will never forgive him, because he irreparably ruined Jiang Yanli's life and then she died trying to save him and Jin Ling became an orphan. It's all his fault; it can't be forgiven; he might as well give up on it...

Jiang Cheng is obviously very angry and upset with him, it's true. But you can see how projecting his guilt and shame over his actions onto Jiang Cheng and then running away from Jiang Cheng is also a way for him to escape his guilt and shame over what happened to Jiang Yanli. (And to escape all the repressed resentment he has for Jiang Cheng because of the core transfer.²)

But there are two tragic elements of this approach. One, that by doing this he yields up any possible relationship with Jiang Cheng, and with the Jiang Sect, because by all means Wei Wuxian must escape him in order to outrun his terrible feelings. Two, that it's another coping mechanism that distorts the reality of the situation, which is that they were all swept up in power games beyond their capacity to manage, and they did their best—the Jiang siblings, the Wen siblings, Jin Zixuan, and Wei Wuxian—and it still went badly for everyone except the Jin Sect.

I don't think he can confront that yet. But I do think that Wei Wuxian feels very safe with Lan Wangji, and sometimes a safe and supportive relationship can provide the resources to do things you didn't think you could do before.

Can you imagine a different conversation, that begins with the bald acknowledgement of failure and wrongdoing³? "I never meant for all of that to happen. I did what I thought was right, but I never thought Jiang Yanli would be harmed, and I didn't intend to kill Jin Zixuan. I am so sorry. I miss her."

GIVE THE CATHARSIS TO ME. GIVE IT HERE.

A Wei Wuxian who has reached a point where he's capable of that accountability and vulnerability is delicious to me. A Wei Wuxian who can get there can return to Lotus Pier and rebuild a relationship with the living sect and his living sect brother.

How could it happen?

The trick is how to get there, 'cause it's like trying to herd cats where one cat is mortally afraid of facing the second and the other one has betrayal trauma and abandonment issues. But the cats love each other! They do!

I don't see Jiang Cheng initiating. I see him as being more open to a reconciliation, now that he knows why Wei Wuxian did what he did, but I see him as being profoundly afraid of trapping people in relationship with him or inflicting himself on people who don't want him around. (Not, like, for politics. In that arena I assume he's unpleasant when necessary to great effect.)

Fortunately, Wei Wuxian can be led if you're cunning enough to do it and you bait the trap with something good (see the plot of MDZS for Nie Huaisang's very successful demonstration of this principle). He also will increase pursuit if you dangle and withdraw the bait.

The question, of course, is what makes good bait for catching Wei Wuxian. Some options:

Option 1: murder mystery. Someone dies in an exciting way that involves Jiang Cheng. (Wei Wuxian will involve himself, dude loves a murder mystery.) It could be in the Jiang Sect or the Jin Sect; if it involves Jin Ling, Jiang Cheng will jump in with a swiftness.

Option 2: Jiang Cheng marriage rumours. Doesn't even have to involve unsavoury rumous about the potential wife; Jiang Cheng getting married without him (like Jiang Yanli) would dredge up some feelings, I think.

Option 3: Jiang Cheng tragic illness or curse rumours. You better be sure it was in a past life, cause it looks like this one might be over soon!

Option 4: Forced together time (due to a night hunt or a kidnapping, etc.). It's time for the getting along shirt!

To borrow from SVSSS, you might need a scenario-pusher for it to happen. But the world of MDZS is rife with these opportunities, and cultivators can live a very long time. So there's hope yet!

Footnotes:

1. This is a perfectly reasonable viewpoint to come to by the end of the novel. It's simply one I don't share.

2. See this passage from the confrontation in the Guanyin Temple:

"It wasn’t something he liked to reminisce about. He didn’t want to be reminded again and again of what it felt like when his core was cut out or what price he had to pay. If this were exposed in the past, he’d most likely laugh and comfort Jiang Cheng … But now, he indeed didn’t have the strength left to put up such a confident, nonchalant pretense.

From the bottom of his heart, he knew he wasn’t so indifferent about it after all.

Was it really that easy to move on from such a thing?

Of course not." (Chapter 103, "Hatred," ExR translation)

3. I saw a different post complaining about Wei Wuxian apologizing to Jiang Cheng in reconciliation scenarios, and I just, like, he kicked off a political firestorm that ended in the death of Jiang Yanli and her husband. This is completely separate from the non-consensual surgery and all the lying he was doing about that. He owes him multiple different apologies! And Jiang Cheng should also apologize to him! That's why they apologize to each other in the Temple, because they know they hurt each other! The point of an apology in an intimate relationship is to connect with the person you are apologizing to in order to repair the relationship, and the Temple was not the time, which is why they need a private do-over! It's not humiliation, it's intimacy, connection, and repair. How do y'all live your lives.

3.5 Also, imagine it to be more in-character than that.

#anon asks #jiang cheng #wei wuxian #yunmeng shuangjie #chengxian #yunmeng shuangjie reconciliation #mdzs +#meta #least-carpet thoughts

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dadsbongos · 7 months ago

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P(AV) IN V

word count - 1.5 k / warnings - unprotected sex, pinv sex, vanilla :), make up sex, fem reader who wears skirt, not beta read

summary - you and pav fight... and then make up :3 with cool kitchen counter sex ~~~

“Late,” your words slice through the warm air as soon as the front door stutters open. Your icy tone dregs that welcomed warmth, blistering it down a raw, unforgiving chill, “Hours late.”

Pavel flashes a cheesy grin, manually crinkling the corners of his eyes, “My love! You’re alive, and you’re well! We’re both still alive and well,” his rambling persists as he slides through your frigid doorway and politely stops at the shoe rack, “How amazing is that, dearest? We could perish at any given moment should All-mer will, and yet we both still stand. Breathing. And well. And still…” he sighs, hesitant to break eye contact and pull off his boots (fearful your teeth will latch onto his neck the instant it's unguarded), “Still in love.”

Your folded arms remain firm over your chest, but the stiffness of such a guarded stance at least gives Pavel the confidence you won’t pounce as he unties his shoes.

“Yes, thank All-mer, my free fool has returned home. And in a lieutenant’s uniform no less… he shames us and his beloved All-mer for that. But yes, thank All-mer he’s home,” he’s wincing at the sting of your words, knowing exactly how terribly he’s set himself up, “Three hours late.”

Pavel finishes removing his muddied boots and settling them on the bottom layer of the rack in silence. Once that job is finished, he cannot hide behind the chore any longer -- now, he is forced to confront the full wrath of a woman scorned. Not just any woman, the only woman he’s sworn himself to; and not just any kind of scorn, the kind bred from arriving three hours late for anniversary dinner.

Finally, he weaves his fingers together at the pelvis and stares with those silvery sharp eyes; golden curls that have played you like a fiddle many times before falling over his forehead. As if he’s some kind hearted businessman from the center of town pleading for his wife’s forgiveness rather than the man he actually is.

He hasn’t even presented you with a ring, yet.

“I’m very, very late,” Pavel confirms, but it’s the last you want to hear. You already know this, what you want to know is what his reasoning could possibly be -- what made him think it was appropriate to come home without so much as a bouquet of flowers? He suspires sharply, so sharp it feels like a stab right in his lung, and shoulders scrunch towards his ears defensively, “I don’t have an excuse.”

“Pav…” you’re not keen as to why you trouble yourself groaning his name. It solves nothing, the only solace you scavenge is knowing it makes guilt bloom in his chest.

Even that is shallow.

“I don’t,” Pavel removes his hat and strips the monster’s hide from his back. Another way you know Pavel is not like the businessmen in town, when he steps forward more parts bare than clothed -- only a fraction of his intent is libido, “I was working, and then it was eight.”

“‘Working’,” you scoff, turning against the kitchen counter to pore into the steel sink. Colored blobs have pooled in the bottom, shifting in time with your unsteady rocking, “You’re obsessive, this is destructive. You’re going nowhere.”

“I told you,” now his sorrow is adopting irritation, brows furrowing and jaw tensing, “I told you exactly who I was, and you said you could live with it. I told you what I wanted for my life, and you went along with me anyway. I am sorry that I’m late, but don’t you dare pretend I’m doing this regardless of you.”

Unfortunately, you cannot dissent those points. Pavel was upfront that his life’s goal was different from other men. He was willing to meet standards such as marriage or pets or owning a two-story home, but didn’t need those things. He needed to kill the Kaiser. He needed revenge. He needed Godblood on his hands.

You were an unforeseen, much appreciated, highlight on his otherwise dismal path.

And now he was muddying it all, wasn’t he?

Pavel trudges further into the kitchen, naked bar the whities on his hips and socks on his feet. He’s comfortable again, and you must be too because your shoulders slacken. He feels more human now than he had during his entire drag of work. The men he bunks with are as hideous as wild animals, their immortal stench somehow worse. Pavel had begged for this temporary leave since the turn of the new year.

Only to finally return to you hours later than he’d promised. Pavel wisens himself to feel the shame searing through every heartbeat.

“I’m sorry,” he slinks up behind you at the sink, tender arms and soft cheek melting your frostbitten exterior, “I have no excuse,” he brushes loose hairs from your temple, fingertips kissing tenderly over your skin seconds before his lips do, “You’re right, dear. I should’ve paid you more mind, but I am not graced with tact. I will be better to you.”

One of the things that drew you and Pavel to each other was a mutual understanding of fire. And hatred. And hiding beneath slumped bodies until soldiers left. You understand Pavel as much as you’re irritated with him. His obsession is your obsession. If you’d been able to dedicate yourself to combat training and wearing their ranks, you’d be no better than him.

“You’re forgiven,” you heave the words as you turn, floating your arms to loop around his neck, “But I wish you’d find a way to be more sensitive to these things.”

“I will,” he soothes.

In an effort to shift the mood, you poke a finger against his bare chest, skin cool from being exposed all day even in his discarded uniform, “Showing off to your superiors again?”

He snorts, a sly smile overtaking his face, “I have to advance at every given opportunity.”

“Bremen whore,” you ‘tsk’.

“Yes, yes, I love the attention.”

“You do have a very lovely body.”

And Pavel most certainly does love your attention.

“Oh, you don’t say?” his breathing turns cursory upon the implication of your words, “Would the pretty lady be willing to demonstrate?”

“She might. If you can promise to be good for her.”

“Always,” he swears it.

You jump back onto the kitchen counter, tugging Pavel between your thighs by the ankles around his waist, “Liar. Make it up to me.”

“If I must,” he makes a show of sighing, kneading the fat of your thighs -- pulling you closer to the edge. Calloused hands burrow under your skirts, tossing the flowing material up and snagging your panties down.

Giggling deliriously, you spread your legs as easily as he maneuvers them. Pavel slicks his right hand with his own saliva, then tucking the wetted digits inside you while thumbing your clit. He’s selfish at the end of the day, removing his fingers (sans the thumb twirling your bundle of nerves) to push his trousers halfway down his thick thighs.

He slides inside you with a heady grown, hands clenching tight around the fat of your hips. His brows pinch and lips pucker, neck craning to mouth at your neck. Kissing as he bucks leisurely into your drooly cunt, always dragging you closer. Pinning your hips with his as he babbles against your skin, nuzzling as if you’re silken.

Pavel pants and whimpers into your ear, greedily soaking up the way your nails dig into his arms and moans sing his name.

“Louder, my love,” he begs, a particular thrust driving your hips back on the counter. His hands claw you back down, “The neighbors should bang down our door- be louder, my love.”

“Insatiable,” you manage to squeal out, head tossing back until your crown is smothering the cold, hard cupboard behind you. Pavel nods shamelessly, now kissing up your cheek to your lips. Drowning out your cries despite his pleas to hear every single one.

Pavel staples you in place, pausing only a moment before hurriedly stuffing you with his cock. He stretches over you, again avaricious for your mouth on his, muffling his own groans under the sloppy stirs of his speedy thrusts. His thumb matches pace, drawing the shiver of his own name, narcissistically, into the apex of your thighs. Your mixing juices soaking his skin. Were he not edging close to climax, Pavel would be tempted to sink to his knees and worship with his mouth. The thought sears through his veins, body seizing -- he hunches unflatteringly, clutching you flush as he cums.

The sensation paired with his devoted attention to your clit cinches the knot in your gut, thighs squished around Pavel’s waist and gasps ragged.

“You’re so handsome when you’re not being a terror,” you coo as Pavel lays his head on your chest.

He snorts quietly, nodding and curling both arms around you, “So tired. You should carry me to our room.”

“If we move, you’re doing the carrying,” you yawn, scooting down to rest your back flat on the counter (causing the both of you to whimper in overstimulation at the jostling).

After a brief respite, Pavel murmurs, half-asleep on your chest, “I’m content to sleep here.”

“Of course…” you yawn again, louder, and scratch your nails through his tangled hair, “I am, too.”

“Of course,” he mimics, laughing tiredly even when you sharply yank a lock of his hair.

#pavel x reader #pavel yudin x reader #pav x reader #fear and hunger x reader #fear and hunger fanfic

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ganondoodle · 5 months ago

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I honestly find it impressive how totk managed to fuck up so bad as a sequel. But truth be told, good gameplay aside, botw already was a whole lot of nothing as far as story and lore were concerned. I just feel like amnesiac Link going out into the world to save some voice is not a good premise, even though botw Zelda has an interesting personality. Idk, I guess botw felt like an experiment that was supposed to pay off in totk, but totk being a disappointment makes botw kind of feel like a waste of time as well

yes and no to that (in my opinion .. just gonna add that to be sure)

what hooked me in botw was less the story that was told and more what was implied, bc it seemed to imply so much, there was so much design that felt intentional- like an introduction to a world with subtle hints towards much much more that would be perfect to dive deeply into in an expansion or second part- just like you said

i personally am a sucker for big environments with enviromental storytelling more than direct dialog in your face- it might be a small detail to some but for me the choice of music, or how little and broken there was really spoke to me (in part bc i am very noise sensitive, id gladly spent hours in botws hyrule field, but id want to get out of twilight princesses hyrule field bc it would get unbearable to me after a while)

but mainly .. it was the world, botw made me feel like no other game has before, it felt so real to me, that this is a world with deep history, most of which unknown, so much mystery and things that existed with no explicit explanation (like man do i love botws dragons ...... and i will not forgive what totk did to them lore wise)-- like with the ancient shiekah especially, they were, or seemed, so drenched in lore you can only guess but yet it felt so intentional, or how calamtiy ganon was this strange being like a force of nature and the gerudo having had no king in so long it was basically forgotten it was ever a thing?? so much to speculate and think about, so much you could do with all those things; you probably didnt aim to get this kind of talk from me but when i talk i talk unfortunately, and botw is my second favorite zelda game (grinding my teeth to dust trying to ignore what totk did to its lore)

if you look at just whats told to you, botw isnt that special either (though at least coherent in itself lol) but its the world and design and mystery that got to me, that i care about so much, care that got almost utterly destroyed by totk bc it made me realize that there .. might have been no intention behind anything, it didnt mean anything actually

its a thing that hurts me so much to know, to think about, that totk cannot be separated from botw, they cheapen each other, people think its just botw+extra, when imo its more like .. botw again but worse, or them saying that botw was jsut a tech demo to the grand game that is totk (i couldnt disagree more to that wtf, totk is more of a tech demo for ultrahand tbh)

i cant even decide whats worse to me, the fact that botw isnt gonna get that deep lore dive in a second part that got me so excited like i never was before after the first trailer, that everything i cared about in it isnt gonna have a follow up ever, the knowledge that there might be no intention and no meaning behind anything in their games, that the next games might be like that too, that its inseperable from totk in the worst way, or that they only damage each other, botw functions better on its own than totk does, but together it worsens both

(i basically just said what you said in long form .. sorry- though i do feel more positively about the amnesia thing in botw, theres tragedy and emotional weight in it and helps immensely to let you and link explore the world like for the first time- plus its a drawback to an otherwise pretty overpowered piece of tech/magic- unlike some other things in a certain other game)

#ganondoodles answers #ganondoodles talks #zelda #ganondoodles rants #gonna add it bc i do think it fits into that #i know its weird to care so much about some stupid video game lore #but i cant help but care #i just do!!! and it kinda sucks honestly!!#i know its not worldchanging mindfuck lore and world #but it got to me anyway!!! and then it and i was hurt!! fuck!!

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chaotic-ish · 8 months ago

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synopsis : what's gojo without pranks?

a/n : got bored af. And i thought this would be cute— i thought.

“HOLY—“

you wipe away the penetrable whipped cream that settled on your face, staring up at gojo in disbelief.

He had given your face a whole plate of whipped cream as you stumbled your way in the kitchen.

“HOW DARE YOU—“

Gojo laughs uncontrollably, with wheezes and snorts all the same while pointing his index finger towards you. “You should have seen the look on your face!”

“YOU BITCH. I DON’T THINK I CAN EVEN SEE.”

He continues laughing, the sounds of giggles dying down to a playful tone as he walks over to hug you from behind, leaning in from the side to take a peck of whipped cream from your face. “Oh, chill, y/nnn, it’s just a harmless prank!”

He licks his lips, humming in delight as the sweet taste graces his tongue.

You taste much better, he thinks.

“My make-up—” you whisper, carefully wiping away dabs off whipped cream over your face and proceeds to dip it in your mouth, letting the treat sink in your mouth.

how much whipped cream did he put in that plate?

“—IS RUINED.” you elbowed him hard in the stomach, but not enough to hurt him.

gojo winces, painting a fake sad look over his face, "heyy, be gentle with me, love, I'm delicate."

he sighs, clasping his hands together as he displays one of his best puppy eyes and convincing pout.

His eyes grasped the attention of the shimmering ceiling lights, clear azure irises widening it's lids.

He actually looked like a whole-ass puppy in the streets.

You grab a few pieces of tissue on the kitchen counter with a scoff, cleaning off the last bits of whipped cream on your face.

But you can't say otherwise that the face he gave you was incredibly cute. It just squeezes your heart to let it melt into a puddle of affectionate goo.

Those eyes make you weak.

But you're not losing to him so easily.

A sigh hesitantly leaves your lips, you cover half your face with an open hand.

Gojo smiles a goofy smile, pulling your hand away from your face to pepper your cheeks with gentle kisses and ending it with a another one at the end of your nose, making a 'boop' sound as he does.

"That means you'll forgive me right?" He looks at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly sideways.

you lean forward and cup his face with both your hands and lean in as if to kiss him, gojo was already fooled as he flutters his eyes closed and puckers his lips out.

he looks so silly.

But you pulled away at the last second, his eyes lifting its lids when the awaited kiss he thought was coming didn't, leaving him dumbfounded as he eyes you narrowly, not understanding why you pulled away so suddenly.

Then, the pang of realisation hits him—

"Y/n! Why???? Are you mad at me for doing that prank at you????"

You say nothing, successfully ignoring him as you walk out, throwing the dirty pieces of tissue in the rubbish bin while you’re at it.

"HEY. DON'T IGNORE MEEEE," he whines, arms stretched out, hands clench, unclench as he chases after you.

he absolutely dislikes you ignoring him, even if it's just a small tease, which he was well aware of.

A set of arms grab you from behind, pulling you close until your back hits a wall of hard muscle, you feel a chin rest on your head.

"I’m sorry, please, forgive me my dear y/n, what am I going to do without your everlasting love for me?”

You cringe, your hands on his forearms as you turn your head to face sideways, only a glimpse of gojo could be seen from your peripheral vision.

"In your dreams—“

the sudden feeling of fingers poking your sides caused your body to jerk in response, a small giggle curling the edge of your lips into a small smile. But you still couldn't shake gojo off you, his arms are around you tight to hold you in place.

you should be a bit stern maybe, maybe, you sho-

-poke. poke. poke. poke.

poke.

a few pokes, then birthed multiple tickles on your sides, gojo's fingers making it's work on the curves of your waist.

You held in your giggles, laughs and snickers in your stitched lips, bottling your stiffled laughs until you were about to burst like a balloon with too much helium.

Gojo urged his fingers to make it even more unbearable, your tickle spots being vulnerably attacked.

And you did. Burst. Into laughter.

So much laughter that it's starting to become contagious, like your endearingly soft smile...your profounded happiness, that melody of a voice you have-

Are more than enough to make this man smile ear-to-ear.

You could almost hear the pitter-patters of his heartbeats thrumming in his chest.

"Forgive me," he whispers to your ears, pulling your body down to the floor with him. "C'monnn, I promise I won't do it againnnn."

There was absolutely no way he would not do this again.

"Never—“

"Mhm?"

He sticks his tongue out, it emerges from the corner of his lip as he wraps a leg around your lower body, making sure you weren't able escape his antics.

"Y/n...sweetheart, I'm sorry, m'kay?" Even with the attempted apology, he still wouldn't stop his hands that were still latched to the shaft of your hips.

He can't help the softened expression that crept up on his face and spent it's holiday there.

"SATORU GOJO-" you gasp, "STOP- PLEASE."

"No way! Not until you forgive me." He says, leaning down to plant small wet kisses up the side of your neck, trailing red spots down to the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, and his hands never slacked off.

"Ah, okay! okay! I forgive you! I forgive you! Stop!"

Gojo smiles contently, watching how your breaths come out in huffs of invisible smoke.

"There, see? Not so hard now, is it?"

You turn yourself to face him, "Nah, it was very hard."

He holds his hands up in a show of attempt that he was gonna tickle you again, but you caught one of his hands, entertwining your fingers with his, both of you holding on tightly.

"Don't you even dare."

"Sheesh, I wasn't trying to, you're so grouchy." He grumbles, letting his face fall down to land a kiss on your temple and brings one of your hands to his cheek, clutching it tightly.

a few seconds pass by feels more like a few hours, he just stares at you, like nothing else exists anymore. Staring at you with his lovestrucked gaze, you couldn’t love him less.

“And, by the way, your make-up isn’t ruined,” he whispers, a thumb running over your cheek, “You look exactly the same without it, love, you’re just that pretty.”

you smile, your cheeks suddenly feel violently hot.

there it is, gojo thinks, there is that wonderful smile that has the power to brighten his day, make him forget the worries and stress he gained. You’ve stolen all the space he has in his world, because—

you are his world.

He takes a few breaths, appreciating the breath-taking view in front of him. He thanks the world, the universe, and god himself, for putting you two together.

He doesn't know what to do without you.

"I love you so much, y/n, I really do." He whispers, holding you impossibly closer to him.

“I know, I love you more, ‘toru.”

taglist: @zennyxxy, @asters-r (sorry zen i got bored.)

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #fluff #jjk fluff #drabble #female reader

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peachjagiya · 4 months ago

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Are You Sure?

Episodes 1 and 2 thoughts

I've had a chance to watch them properly now.

My main takeaway is absolute bafflement at the characterisation in that weird W article?! It's not even that they misinterpreted the show, it's almost like they didn't even watch it? JK is his sweet and soft silly self. Jimin is full big brother.

I have thoroughly and genuinely enjoyed it. I must confess, in the first episode they do seem awkward with contrasting energies. As they say, they haven't met up and I think it does feel like it for almost all of first ep. So I was worried how I'd handle 8 hours of that considering I get severe second hand emotions.

The shift seemed to take place at the meal prep at the camp site. I guess this is terra firma for them, a safe space reminiscent of ITS and the dorms etc.

I don't know if anyone will agree but the phone calls at the table seemed to put a lid on the awkwardness entirely. The switch to super comfortable besties was complete after those. I found that very interesting.

Did you notice the matched energies in the calls too? We've talked about Taekook's call a lot but we can't ignore how natural Jimin's voice was with Yoongi. I'm wondering maybe if they needed those moments with their closest members to put a line in the sand almost? I don't think I mean they were planned and forced as such but getting to be real in that moment must have been like a sigh of relief after such a long time dancing around the truth. Maybe this is delulu but I'd love your thoughts on it.

As for Taekook's call, I am now convinced Tae said something sweet or rude or otherwise disallowed that was muted when he first answered. Mainly because of how he then made clear they were filming. I also think that JK hung up because he was about to get a lecture about the bike and that his texts to Tae were jokingly apologetic like "sorry sorry I like you so much I love you forgive me that was just too funny"

I felt awful for Jimin and his tummy issues. On a BOAT?! And a HIKE? guys what the hell. Let him sleep.

I cannot with JK eating his way through Connecticut. Relatable king. Food is the only thing that will get me out of the house too actually.

I loved their dynamic in the second episode. It made me kind of peak mad at the Jikook ship- actually no. Not at the shipping. At the characterisation that goes with it. Because they're such great brothers, it does a disservice to the best bits of their dynamic to put them into gross alpha-omega dynamic when they're prototypical siblings. It's so enjoyable to watch.

I've gone from wondering why they bothered to thinking it's for the better that they did this. Getting to show what they really are to each other finally actually makes for much more interesting TV than I thought.

In conclusion: never seen a better representation of my ADHD than going for a sponge but getting distracted by guacamole.

💜💜💜 let's hope next week doesn't absolutely destroy it with editing nonsense 😂

#are you sure

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scaly-freaks · 5 months ago

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Daisy you can't just put an 'Aegon is the sugar baby au' out there and not tell us more????

I'm so sorry, this is going to be long

Okay so it's actually a really sweet AU. Amara isn't that rich, but she's 22 and hasn't lost her virginity yet and she just wants it gone, you know? But she also doesn't want to do it with anyone she knows because they're all losers and/or just not men she wants to 'gift' it to since it'll boost their ego way too much. She wants her V-card taken and also to learn how to have sex without any pressure or emotions or where is this going?

So...she clicks the first male escort site in London she sees. Ews her way through it because a lot of them are definitely just men who think 'oh yay, I get to fuck for money.' Aegon's profile seems very similar to them, but he does look like Billy Idol and she's always loved him, plus he jokes about his own height and says he makes up for it in inches elsewhere (in retrospect, it's not that funny but he's the cutest guy on there so she forgives it).

Anyway, he turns up without knowing what she looks like, and since she said she's pretty young, he's kind of expecting...well...you know. Something is up with her, and he's waiting to find out what (because his usual clients are older women, well put together, high-flying job who don't really care for or have time for relationships and he's a lovely piece of arm candy).

Turns up, sees her, eyes do the BOYOYOYOYING thing that cartoon characters do when they're in lust (love). She's like errrrrr shall I put the money on the table and he snorts and says if you want me to feel like a hooker on a street corner sure. She immediately gets embarrassed and apologises and he reassures her that it's fine, she pays his employer first not him, and that the rest of his clients tend to put a standing order up straight to his account once it's a set arrangement.

At that point she almost backs out because she's like god, what the fuck am I doing? And he can tell she's going to chicken out, but that'd be him losing money since there's no time to book anyone else in for the night. So, he says he saw board games down in the hotel lounge, and they can go play for a bit if she wants. She's like or we could get drunk, that way it'd be easier and he's like well no, because I'm not allowed to get drunk on the job, and I'm definitely not having sex with you if you're drunk, besides do you really want to forget your first time?

So they go downstairs, find a board game (maybe Cluedo because I like the funny little pieces) and start playing. Aegon talks to her the whole time, puts her at ease, starts asking about her life, uni, etc etc. Asks her why she chose to go with an escort for her first time, and Amara slowly opens up more and more because let's be honest, Aegon has TGC's charisma, he can charm anyone into relaxing.

She suddenly says she's hungry, and since she did pay him for the whole night (btw...he doesn't come cheap, it's £3000 for the night, so she definitely went impulse mode on this one), Aegon agrees and suggests the restaurant next door which is bougie and whatnot, but Amara disagrees and wants to go to the Turkish kebab place she saw on the corner.

Since they're both kinda dressed up, just imagine them squatting outside the brightly lit, neon sign of the fast food place sharing a kebab and gossiping about what they think the people in the block of flats opposite are talking about/doing (most of the windows don't even have curtains). Anyway, she's getting that pit in her stomach again, because now it's like...okay, at some point you're going to have to go back to the hotel and do it otherwise it's a waste of the money you spent. She doesn't say anything though, and Aegon is the one to gently bring it up and then she just nods and goes along with it. He kinda figures out pretty quickly that whereas his other clients are more than comfortable giving instruction and know what they want, it'll be the opposite with her. So, he slips into the 'leading' role so to speak and when they get back to the hotel, Amara tries to think of something to say to break the silence, but before she can, he kisses her. Like a proper 80s movie, pressing her into the wall, hands in her hair, the ideal first kiss of a girl's dream kinda kiss.

She whispers out an oh okay and he laughs and kisses her again because she's round-eyed, with this goofy expression of surprise, and her hands are clutching his wrists like a life line and well, why wouldn't you want to kiss her.

Anyway, whole bag of tricks comes out for the night. There's a hilarious moment where she panics and almost slaps him to get off when his fingers are inside her because she's never managed to give herself a g-spot orgasm so it felt like she was going to pee. But Aegon is like SHUSH and keeps her flat before going voila, see what did I tell you? He does it a couple more times so she can get used to the feeling, but that also has the drawback of making her tired and she's like okay, this was fun, now I'm going to sleep. And he's just there like ??????????? tf it is, you paid 3000 for the whole thing, and guess what, I'm giving you the whole thing (the whole thing being his dick ofc). Rouses her with kisses all over her body and suddenly she realises she's not that tired after all (well, would you look at that) and the actual virginity taking part happens. It's pretty standard for male escorts to take viagra but he doesn't for her because he's positive she's not going to be able to keep it up for long (at least not for her first time). Even SO, he manages to get it up again a couple more times after the first in pretty quick succession (that's never happened without the aid of drugs) so Amara gets to try several positions and actually have someone fuck her right, rather than fumbling with someone who lacks the practice.

Also something about Aegon in this AU is that he can't ever sleep with his clients for some reason. Insomnia strikes, and if they're asleep next to him because they paid for him to stay over, he's usually wide awake. But he conks right out next to her, and in the morning, gives her another round, which she forgets to even question whether that's extra (it's not, it was more his freebie to her shall we say).

And then she's all like OKAY THAT WAS FUN all hyper and bouncy and excited, because now she knows what sex feels like and she can finally just be relaxed and confident when she meets someone she likes. But Aegon has this weird pit in his stomach (just like she did last night) because he kinda doesn't wanna leave? He's experienced that with another client before, but this feels more pronounced, especially when he's sitting sleepy-eyed and smiling in bed and she's dancing around putting on her clothes after a shower. He almost wants to ask if she'll call him again, but that's against the whole etiquette thing of the agency so he doesn't say a word, but he really hopes she will.

Weirdly enough, Amara is the one that ends up saying she won't because she really just impulse purchased him and her parents have money, but not the kind of money where she can afford Aegon whenever she wants (plus they'll get suspicious if she asks for that set amount off them regularly). But realistically, she doesn't even want to call him again, because she genuinely saw this as a transaction, and that's what hits him like a truck. Usually, he's the one who has to keep the clients from getting attached. But last night, when she was under him, all whispery and nervous and doll-eyed, he fell into the mistake of letting it feel too real in his head, and now she's the one who's completely disconnected herself now that the job is done.

ARGHRGHRHGRHGRHG I actually don't know where else it would go from here, but the first night felt vivid af in my head when I saw those photos of TGC.

anyway, here's pictures of tom that perfectly fit the vibe and since i don't have a set face claim for amara, have the drawing i drew (again)

#aegon x amara #asks #aegon is the sugar baby au #aegon ii x oc #aegon x oc #my oc: amara

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