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britney-j-christ · 1 month ago

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I'm coming back to this, because I *am* too soft on Curly. What happens to him is so brutal that it far outweighs anything he did, but I think I am ignoring the narrative in favour of the story's circumstances.

If Anya was able to talk about what happened openly, I have no doubt both Swansea and Daisuke would have stepped up. We literally get to see both characters do so. Daisuke dies trying to save Anya, is easily pushed by Jimmy of all people to do something incredibly dangerous for her. Swansea can be seen supporting her, able to be confided in, even in the middle of a bender.

A sober Swansea and Daisuke not under pressure would both support Anya.

Looking at the overall narrative, I think Captain Curly and the Pony Express act as the individual and societal shame surrounding sexual assault? Because I think that Curly really does support Anya... but his way of dealing with it does still shove it under the rug as much as possible. The Pony Express, while factually being a nasty piece of shit corporation who is the cause of all these problems, is also acting as all of wider society. All of the problems The Company has caused, benefited from, disregarded, or will punish the crew for, are all mirrors of circumstances and what the wider society often do to victims of sexual assault.

The space ship, and the story events, are a microcosm. They are functionally isolated, but this exact scenario (minus being trapped in space) will and is playing out all over Earth, or whatever planet the Tulpar was headed to. Captain Curly and all the factors that weigh on his decision making, do on the other enablers out in the world(s).

This doesn't change much, to be clear. Because unless they replaced Jimmy somehow, they still needed him to pilot the ship and I think then, with his impending doom upon arrival, Jimmy would have crashed the ship in a way that really DID kill everyone. This was always a tragedy, even before it was a horror game. The scenarios rotten. Man, Curly really had no good options. But he choose the quietest one, and everyone dies not knowing what Jimmy really is because of it. Anya doesn't tell Swansea until it's so, so late. Daisuke dies on the word of Good Captain Jimmy, never knowing the truth about him. Curly takes the fall for the Tulpars crash. The silence Cpt. Curly's decision imposed hurt people. I don't think the ship not crashing would have made it not hurt people either.

Oh man, Curly really had no good options, huh?

I see a lot of people jumping to "Curly should have shot Jimmy", which is fine to say because he still should get to shoot Jimmy, but not a compelling argument.

Unless this is even more dystopian of a universe than it seems (Ala the villain being capitalism, not The State Shooting You Without Trial In Space style) there's no legal grounds to do that. That's vigilante justice and while it would solve a part of the Safety Concern Jimmy causes, it leads to too many problems on earth.

Also, you cannot just casually shoot a coworker or 1/5th of the locals. Daisuke and Swansea would have *very reasonable concerns* if their captain just shot someone, even if it was explained. And I don't think either would be down to do a cover up about it. And if they did...

Daisuke would Crack in seconds under interrogation or scrutiny.

We're also talking about Captain Curly pre, uh... "character developement" as it were, being able to see Jimmy's abusive nature first hand now that he's under his control. There's a pattern for trying very, very hard to see the good in Jimmy and enabling him. He'd never be in this position as copilot if Curly hadn't been there, trying to pull Jimmy out of whatever trouble he was at back on Earth. Curly is a big picture guy who doesn't see the dead pixel; he sees Jimmy climbing up and out of the muck with him and he ignores the red flags or, possibly, even prior offenses?

Captain Curly can be seen *trying* to be a good Captain, not unlike the way Jimmy as Captain is also "trying" to be a good Captain(for selfish ego driven and guilt-avoidant reasons). It really is a goal they share. Both of them fail at it, but it is both their motivations in those roles. Even stressed and overworked, jumping to killing his best friend three months into a year long voyage isn't rational.

So how about we downgrade to more reasonable option; jailing. Except the places where one can be locked in are the hold full of valuable unknown cargo, so a non option if they want to get paid (they desperately do), and the medical bay, which is much more viable if they could a) get that set up in a way that didn't jeprodise the health of everyone and b) didn't have a huge human sized vent that might kill you if you go through it. I understand why neither were chosen.

So, how about the cryopods? Seems pretty viable. Much like murdering Jimmy, you'd have to get everyone on board for this. So, confronting Anya's rapist in front of Daisuke and Swansea and hope they can sway them both in favor of Lawful Detainment.

It's not impossible. I think, if they tried, it would have worked in terms of grouping up together- if they could do it without Jimmy getting wind of it and doing something drastic beforehand.

But then there's no copilot. This is such a major issue for an eight month voyage where we see that the ship will see a problem approximately like 2-3 minutes before it happens and requires corrections. Curly cannot do this job for that long. No one else is appropriately trained. Swansea is busy, Daisuke is not reliable enough to handle this, and Anya... could probably do it tbh I have complete faith in her but that's a lot to put on her shoulders to not get paid appropriately for, just for her to be *safe* from Jimmy.

I struggle to blame Curly for the choice he did go with. I don't see any good options, especially without knowing what's going to happen. It's already a huge jump to go from Best Friend to Rapist; expecting Jimmy to go down to Murderer is a big leap. It seems like he thought he had eight months to work with Anya, to figure out what to do. "Talking with Jimmy" could have been anything from Boys Club protection racketing to clinical setting of boundaries for likely the first time in their relationship to a full on confrontation. We don't know. We only get to see the death spiral that came out of it after.

It's pretty clear that Curly failed as a captain to protect everyone, but the scenario was hopeless to begin with. The choices he made before they got on the ship doomed them: trusting and supporting Jimmy was the mistake and it happened well before they got on the freighter.

And in every single scenario, I find it leads back to Pony Express being the ones at fault. Every bit of the ship they are trapped in exists to funnel more money into a dying beast of a company at the crews expense. I think Curly and maybe Anya both thought they had 8 months to figure out what would happen off the boat. A looming unavoidable threat of consequences. Everything to do with getting the company involved would likely drive Anya and or Curly broke; they say straight up they fine the crew for problems arising. That it's flat out the captains duty to handle it and then get charged by the company $$$ about it. They will double the amount of responsibility back onto the Captain and crew. Imagine working a year in isolated space and getting NOTHING for it? Imagine slashing thenrest of the crews wages.

Curly wasn't able to predict what Jimmy would have done. I think his plan was to handle things Off Board. Too late in multiple ways, but I do think he would have genuinely back up Anya in however they go forwards once they've landed.

The option he chose didn't deal with the real problem though. It feels like he tried to problem solve to deal with the consequences and not the issue at hand; the safety of Anya, his crewmember. It's how he failed as a captain.

I'm proud of him rushing headlong unto danger to try and save them all. God. What a vicious cruelty to deny Curly the one thing he does deserve credit for.

Anyways I'm redressing him like a mummy so he's nice and cozy for his 20 year sleep. Poor guy tried to intervene, badly, into something that needed to be prevented instead by the company and by foresight he didn't have about a dangerous, narcissistic best friend. Doomed from the beginning because of your character flaws and unwinnable scenarios. You're such a good little horror character; if feel like he's a good parable about putting safety first. Thanks for your follies bro I hope it has impacted my personal decision making for the better so I don't become you if I'm in your position.

#I wish we knew more about what Anya wanted #but in the way that horror makes you crave certain answers from an ambiguous story #I do like not knowing much about what the victim dealt with played out on screen #I love Curly for taking that role over for her in the game #Isn't it fucked up how Curly cannot help her in his reality and yet. in ours. he shields her from our view.#He's the scapegoat for all the suffering of a victim splayed out for us to see so we can Get It #I love you for that Curly! That's not a choice you made as a person but you're also a fictional character so it factors into you #But also NOT having Anya being the player character or to have access to her narrative #allows us the players to enjoy things like making this post; there's room for all of us to explore this stuff #because if we knew what Anya wanted to have done we'd have a definitive answer. But we DONT. We have no clue what Anya asked of Curly.#And that's cool! Because otherwise what she wanted would become The Right Answer. and there'd be no debate about what curly shoulda done #and the story would be both less compelling and more invasive and never woulda made me think about what to do when IM Captain Curly

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ambrosiagourmet · 9 months ago

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I've been thinking about Laios' succubus lately. Mulling it over a bit.

Because I've seen these pages brought up a fair bit, but almost entirely in the context of shipping (on all sides, really). And I really want to understand what they are doing for the story beyond that.

When I went back to reread the scene and section, a few things caught my interest: the way Laios responds to both forms of his succubus, the themes of the volume the chapter is found in, and the other events of the chapter itself.

So let's dive into those three things, and what I think they say about the succubus scene's purpose.

Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus

So. If you compare Marcille and Chilchuck's reactions...

to Laios':

There is a difference. Sure, the basics may look the same once it turns into Scylla Marcille, but even then, it functions differently.

Chilchuck and Marcille are completely frozen once they catch sight of their succubus. Izutsumi, as well, isn't able to look away, and completely freezes up once her 'mom' starts talking to her. As Chilchuck describes, "just looking at them makes you unable to move."

And yet, Scylla Marcille has to actively convince Laios to comply. He even looks away from her at one point!

Laios accepts this succubus, but he is never actually helpless to it in the same way. Taken in? Convinced? Sure, at least enough to let things happen that he probably should question more than he does. But magically compelled? Not really. Not the same way as everyone else is. So that's interesting. But let's move on for now.

2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire

I don't often look at chapters within the context of the volume they are included in, but I think there's some really fun things to be found with that perspective in mind.

For one, volume 9 starts with an exploration of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

And ends with a question of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

It's also very concerned in general with questions of why people do what they do. Why they are in the dungeon, why they are with the people they are with, why they stay, what they fight for.

In addition to Laios, we see it with Marcille...

Izutsumi

Kabru

and Mithrun

Hell, we even get it for the demon!

It's certainly not the only volume concerned with desires and motives, but it is particularly focused on these ideas.

The succubus scene fits quite well into the ongoing question about desires, especially Laios' desires. It is even placed at an interesting spot within the volume. The volume is six chapters long, and the scene takes place at the start of the 4th chapter. It's almost smack-dab in the middle.

With all this in mind, it is interesting that, with both versions of the succubus Marcille, it's not totally clear which parts of her Laios is rejecting.

The first version of Marcille looks human, but Laios attacks when he identifies her as a monster. The second Marcille looks like a monster, but he seems to believe that she is the real (human)(ish) person that he knows. So is he rejecting the monster at first, and then accepting the person? Or is he rejecting humanity and only interested in the monstrous?

Something to consider as we look at the next point...

3. the rest of the chapter is a seduction, too

This is one of those things that might not be apparent on a first reading, but is crystal clear on a revisit. We see the succubus try and charm Laios over 7 pages, and then see the Winged Lion do the same thing for the next 19.

Much like the succubus, it offers the mingling of monsters and humans. Much like the succubus, it offers belonging.

(and this is the point where I absolutely must also link this post by fumifooms on the succubus, which has some great ideas on how the scene is informed by Laios' trauma and desire for acceptance!!!)

But, back to the point. The Winged Lion wants to feed on Laios just as much as the succubus did, and it uses similar strategies to try and make that happen. Though this chapter isn't really the turning point for the next Lord of the Dungeon (it is Marcille who will, eventually, become the Lion's next victim), it certainly behaves like it is.

Laios is convinced. The succubus gets its meal. By the end of the volume, the reader begins to understand how concerning his desires are. Together, it is all very good at building up that sense of dread and pending disaster, as we see exactly how and why Laios might just fall into the Lion's open arms and bring about the end of the world.

So that's the three things I noticed. But there's still something I want to touch on by looking at the way these observations overlap, and what they reveal, together.

As I said, by the end of the volume, you can feel the tension growing. Just as Kabru and Mithrun do, you look back for an answer to the questions that have been built, chapter by chapter: why is Laios here? Where will his loyalties fall? This chapter, and scene, seem to prove the inevitable truth: he will choose the monster, of course. He will choose the seductive, easy power of the Winged Lion.

But the details of what actually happens tell different story: one in which the Lion is wrong.

First, as a reminder - even in Scylla Marcille mode, the succubus never fully entrances Laios. It convinces him, but it doesn't have him completely under its thrall.

Similarly, in the dream, the Lion does convince Laios to embrace the world he is offering. But even within that dream, Laios continues to ask questions that will be vital to him later. It is because of those questions that Laios comes to a new understanding about Thistle.

And it's this realization that he cites later as part of his reason for refusing the Lion's offer.

He is thinking through things the entire time, just like he continues to question the succubus even after it turns into Scylla Marcille.

Laios also expresses an interesting reason for why he wants to see the future of this world. He's not just invested because it would mean people liking what he likes, or him getting to spend time with monsters. The thought that comes immediately before his acceptance is about what he wants for monsters and people.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this statement - "we're living beings that share the same world, but all we can do is keep killing each other" - can apply to the various humans races just as much as it does to humans and monsters. The thing he is thinking about here isn't just a matter of his personal daydreams. It's an idea that underpins every conflict in the story.

Laios caring about how people as well as monsters in this manner is something that the Lion gets wrong every time. Even at the end, he still frames Laios' desires entirely around hating people and loving monsters.

The Lion has heard him express an opinion about the future of the world! It happened right there in the dream, right in front of him! He just didn't take it seriously, and didn't view it through any lens other than "Laios likes monsters more".

He's convinced that he understands how to get to Laios. Maybe the Lion can't truly see everything, or maybe his vision into everyone's deepest desires has made it hard for him to realize how much choice still matters. That people can, and do, choose which desires to act on, and how to act on them.

Whatever the case, he's wrong about Laios, and the story shows us this over and over again.

After all, look at how the succubus interaction plays out:

A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...

He realizes that something about the situation is wrong, and rejects her.

It changes strategies, and makes new offer: to turn him into a monster.

It also assures him that his friends are, or will be, taken care of.

He accepts. Or rather, allows the monster to have its way with him.

But Laios is not as helpless as he initially appears, and what the Lion thinks is a successful seduction also contains the seed of an idea that will allow Laios to later resist him.

We even get to see Izutsumi playing a similar role in both instances, as the one person fully able to take action in the face to the illusion.

The story lays out what is going happen, and then explicitly tells us that the demon and the succubus are thematically related.

The chapter performs a great sleight of hand here - everything about it seems to indicate that Laios is doomed give in to the option to have his deepest desires realized. But if you look closer, it also contains the evidence that he won't. There's a lot more going on for him.

Yes, he still falls for obvious tricks. He is still extremely into monsters, and he still doesn't feel like he fits in with other people. He may, deep down, crave to surrender to the monstrous - to let it absorb him. But he questions more than he seems to. He considers more than people realize. He cares so much more than anyone gives him credit for.

And I think this is part of why we see the succubus called back to so many times, especially with the wolf head addition to his Monster Form, which he specifically added due to his encounter with the Scylla Marcille.

This all stays with Laios. It doesn't just foreshadow the path of the story, it is fundamental to how and why he walks that path. It's not about him choosing monsters, and it's not about him choosing people. It's about how he considers both, and cares about both.

And it's about the forces that think they already know his answer. Mithrun and Kabru. The Winged Lion. The succubus.

It's about how they are wrong.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #laios touden #winged lion #dunmeshi analysis

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demilypyro · 1 year ago

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So I've seen a few too many people on twitter talking about The Kiss Scene from the new Scott Pilgrim anime. People saying it's fetishistic and indulgent, people calling it male gazey, etc. And while the kiss itself is certainly a bit exaggerated, I felt like writing a bit about why I disagree, and why context is important, like it always is. But it basically turned into an extended analysis on the metatextual treatment of Roxie Richter. So bear with me. It's a long post.

What really matters about this scene is not the kiss itself, but what precedes it. Not even just the fight scene just before it, but what precedes the whole anime series, really. And that's the Scott Pilgrim comic book, and the live action movie. Because in both, Roxie is a punchline.

She's a joke. Her character starts and ends with "one of the exes is actually a girl, I bet you didn't expect that." Jokes are made about Ramona's latent bisexuality, the movie especially treating it as funny and absurd, and her validity as a romantic interest is entirely written off by Ramona as being "just a phase." There's a fight scene, she's defeated by a man giving her an orgasm which implicitly calls her sexuality into question (come on), and the movie just moves on. It sucks. It really, really sucks.

The comic fares a little better. It never veers into outright homophobia like the movie does, and while the line about Ramona having gone through a phase remains, Roxie actually gets one over on Scott when Ramona briefly gets back with Roxie. But Roxie is still only barely a character. Like all the other evil exes, she's just a stepping stone towards the male protagonist's development. She barely even gets any screentime before she's defeated by Scott's "power of love." But Roxie stands out, since she's the only villain who is queer, or at least had been confirmed queer at that point (hi Todd). In a series that champions multiple gay men in the supporting cast, the single undeniable lesbian in the story is a villain. She's labeled as evil, made fun of, pushed aside in favor of the men, and then discarded. Her screentime was never about her, or her feelings for Ramona. It was about the straight, male protagonist needing to overcome her. And that was Roxie Richter. An unfortunate victim of the 2010s.

Fast forward to current year, and the new anime series is announced. Everybody sits down to watch the new series expecting another retelling of the same story, and.... hang on, that straight male protagonist I mentioned just died in the first episode. And now it's humanizing the villains from the original story. And there's Roxie, introduced alongside the other evil exes in the second episode, and she's being played entirely straight, without a punchline in sight. No jokes are made about her gender, no questions are made of her validity as one of Ramona's romantic interests. The narrative considers her important. In one episode, she already gets more respect than she did in either of the previous iterations of Scott Pilgrim. And this isn't even her focus episode yet... which happens to be the very next one.

The anime series goes to great lengths to flesh out the original story's villains and to have Ramona reconcile with them. And I don't think it's a coincidence that Roxie gets to go first. While Matthew Patel gets his development in episode 2, Roxie is the first to directly confront Ramona, now our main protagonist. This is notable too because it's the only time the exes are encountered out of order. Roxie is supposed to be number 4, but she's first in line, and later on you realize that she's the only one who's out of sequence. She's the one who sets the precedent for the villains being redeemed. She's the most important character for Ramona to reconcile with.

What follows is probably the most extensive, elaborate 1 on 1 fight scene in the whole show. Roxie fights like a wounded animal, her motions are desperate and pained. Ramona can only barely fight back against her onslaught. Different set-pieces fly by at breakneck speed as Roxie relentlessly lays her feelings at Ramona's feet through her attacks and her distraught shouts. And unlike the comic or the movie, Ramona acknowledges them, and sincerely apologizes. And the two end up just laying there, exhausted, reminiscing about when they were together.

Only after this, after all of this, does the kiss scene happen. Roxie has been vindicated, she has reconciled with the person who hurt her, the narrative has deemed that her anger is justified and has redeemed her character. And she gets her victory lap by making the nearest other hot girl question her heterosexuality, sharing a sloppy kiss with her as the music triumphantly crescendos.

It's... a little self-congratulatory, honestly. But it's good. It's redemption for a character who had been mistreated for over a decade. And she punctuates the moment by being very, very gay where everyone can see it, no men anywhere in sight. Because this is her moment. And then she leaves the plot, on her own accord this time, while humming the hampster dance. What a legend. How could anything be wrong with this.

#scott pilgrim #spto #scott pilgrim takes off #roxie richter #roxanne richter #scott pilgrim spoilers #spto spoilers

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savanir · 18 days ago

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A sister's love

The justice league hurriedly responds to a call for backup at a little in the middle of nowhere place by the name of Amity Park.

The situation had seemed so simple.

A Star Sapphire had suddenly shown up on Earth which isn’t immediately cause for concern but she was unidentified, so a lantern was definitely going to have to look into it if only just to make sure that nothing bad was going on. There are two planet side green lanterns, Simon and Jessica. So they responded to handle the potential situation.

Things rapidly spun out of control when they realized it wasn't just a Star Sapphire.

"I hate to say this but we're gonna need backup" Simon tells Cyborg, "the Star Sapphire has brought something with her. My first guess was a white martian but..." The other one can do some manner of density shifting, and he can go invisible, but they know ways around that. Whatever this one is doing isn’t that though.

"Why isn't this working!?!" Comes Jessica's slightly panicked voice in the distance, "he keeps just going through my creations! dammit, think think Jess" She tried to contain him with a flamethrower construct but he just ignored it, like he’s seemingly ignoring everything else she’s throwing at him.

"Our constructs have zero effect on the other one, the alien, meta? man I don’t know he’s human shaped"

"What is the situation other than the two hostiles?"

"Uh we got some government agents who are retreating because of the Star Sapphire wrecking their stuff. And the civilian people here seem to be falling under her influence, so she must be human. She's from here, she needs emotional connection to pull that stuff off."

The people are furious, the violet glow around them clearly indicates that the girl is using her ring to amp them up but if Simon didn’t know any better he’d say this was red lantern stuff.

Well there are more ways to whip people up into a frenzy, by hurting their loved ones for example.

There is a brief moment where it can be heard that Simon and Jessica try to get into a more advantageous position.

Simon grunts, "dammit, those agents seemed to have weapons that actually worked on the other guy but the Star Sapphire used her violet constructs to shield him and destroy their guns and we've been struggling since" this whole situation stinks, he has a weird feeling about all of it.

"Simon this is really really bad, i can't keep restraining all these civilians, we're running out of energy fast!"

Cyborg tries to get a visual on the situation from his position in the Watchtower while he’s notifying any league affiliated heroes who are nearby and available.

But all of a sudden he realizes there is just nothing, just a big lap of void where the two lanterns are supposed to be, there is no cctv footage, no cell towers, no internet connection. Just what the hell is going on here.

Then the audio transmission starts to violently crackle.

A new voice laced with static can suddenly be heard, "There you two are"

"Shit"

"Is the justice league coming yet? Are they finally going to do something?" the staticy voice continues.

"Stay back you-"

"Or maybe they still need more of a reason to act"

The audio cuts out.

"Jessica! Simon! Come in!" ... "Shit!"

Cyborg finally gets a clear picture with the satellite cameras and now sees the entirety of Amity Park has been covered with a crystalized violet dome. It’s then that he remembers the story Hal told quite some time ago now about a Star Sapphire who managed to put a whole planet into love stasis.

They are gonna need more help with this one he thinks.

Meanwhile Jazz is still shakily trying to figure out how her new pink powers work, now that all the fighting is over (for now), the GIW forcefully expelled from Amity, and the two Justice league people captured and restrained.

Everything happened so fast, one moment the GIW had knocked out her brother and were forcefully taking him away and while she saw them drive off (she was pretty sure she was screaming) a pink thing just froze her in place, She was pretty sure someone said something about “great love in her heart” and then she was… well she was flying and- and there wasn’t really any time to question things then so she may have kinda gone and ripped into the van that had Danny.

She’s pretty sure she healed him, and then things just completely spiraled out of control from that point on. and now she’s here.

She’s pretty sure this is crazy villain behavior, she’s going to get put on some sort of watchlist and then she’ll never get to be a psychologist but it’s fine.

Her little brother is safe, that’s all that matters. And she will keep it that way.

#dpxdc #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #green lanterns #jazz fenton #simon baz #jessica cruz #so Jazz is a Star Sapphire #And she is using the love she has for her brother as well as the love of the Amity Park community #the people of Amity are already not happy with the Justice League so getting them to do what she wants isn't hard #atm though she doesn't really know she's doing it #and the ring is probably also influencing her #I feel like this situation would first get worse before it would get better #The GIW would try to spin this into their advantage somehow

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princesssarisa · 2 years ago

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In the past I've shared other people's musings about the different interpretations of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. Namely, why Orpheus looks back at Eurydice, even though he knows it means he'll lose her forever. So many people seem to think they've found the one true explanation of the myth. But to me, the beauty of myths is that they have many possible meanings.

So I thought I would share a list of every interpretation I know, from every serious adaptation of the story and every analysis I've ever heard or read, of why Orpheus looks back.

One interpretation – advocated by Monteverdi's opera, for example – is that the backward glance represents excessive passion and a fatal lack of self-control. Orpheus loves Eurydice to such excess that he tries to defy the laws of nature by bringing her back from the dead, yet that very same passion dooms his quest fo fail, because he can't resist the temptation to look back at her.

He can also be seen as succumbing to that classic "tragic flaw" of hubris, excessive pride. Because his music and his love conquer the Underworld, it might be that he makes the mistake of thinking he's entirely above divine law, and fatally allows himself to break the one rule that Hades and Persephone set for him.

Then there are the versions where his flaw is his lack of faith, because he looks back out of doubt that Eurydice is really there. I think there are three possible interpretations of this scenario, which can each work alone or else co-exist with each other. From what I've read about Hadestown, it sounds as if it combines all three.

In one interpretation, he doubts Hades and Persephone's promise. Will they really give Eurydice back to him, or is it all a cruel trick? In this case, the message seems to be a warning to trust in the gods; if you doubt their blessings, you might lose them.

Another perspective is that he doubts Eurydice. Does she love him enough to follow him? In this case, the warning is that romantic love can't survive unless the lovers trust each other. I'm thinking of Moulin Rouge!, which is ostensibly based on the Orpheus myth, and which uses Christian's jealousy as its equivalent of Orpheus's fatal doubt and explicitly states "Where there is no trust, there is no love."

The third variation is that he doubts himself. Could his music really have the power to sway the Underworld? The message in this version would be that self-doubt can sabotage all our best efforts.

But all of the above interpretations revolve around the concept that Orpheus looks back because of a tragic flaw, which wasn't necessarily the view of Virgil, the earliest known recorder of the myth. Virgil wrote that Orpheus's backward glance was "A pardonable offense, if the spirits knew how to pardon."

In some versions, when the upper world comes into Orpheus's view, he thinks his journey is over. In this moment, he's so ecstatic and so eager to finally see Eurydice that he unthinkingly turns around an instant too soon, either just before he reaches the threshold or when he's already crossed it but Eurydice is still a few steps behind him. In this scenario, it isn't a personal flaw that makes him look back, but just a moment of passion-fueled carelessness, and the fact that it costs him Eurydice shows the pitilessness of the Underworld.

In other versions, concern for Eurydice makes him look back. Sometimes he looks back because the upward path is steep and rocky, and Eurydice is still limping from her snakebite, so he knows she must be struggling, in some versions he even hears her stumble, and he finally can't resist turning around to help her. Or more cruelly, in other versions – for example, in Gluck's opera – Eurydice doesn't know that Orpheus is forbidden to look back at her, and Orpheus is also forbidden to tell her. So she's distraught that her husband seems to be coldly ignoring her and begs him to look at her until he can't bear her anguish anymore.

These versions highlight the harshness of the Underworld's law, and Orpheus's failure to comply with it seems natural and even inevitable. The message here seems to be that death is pitiless and irreversible: a demigod hero might come close to conquering it, but through little or no fault of his own, he's bound to fail in the end.

Another interpretation I've read is that Orpheus's backward glance represents the nature of grief. We can't help but look back on our memories of our dead loved ones, even though it means feeling the pain of loss all over again.

Then there's the interpretation that Orpheus chooses his memory of Eurydice, represented by the backward glance, rather than a future with a living Eurydice. "The poet's choice," as Portrait of a Lady on Fire puts it. In this reading, Orpheus looks back because he realizes he would rather preserve his memory of their youthful, blissful love, just as it was when she died, than face a future of growing older, the difficulties of married life, and the possibility that their love will fade. That's the slightly more sympathetic version. In the version that makes Orpheus more egotistical, he prefers the idealized memory to the real woman because the memory is entirely his possession, in a way that a living wife with her own will could never be, and will never distract him from his music, but can only inspire it.

Then there are the modern feminist interpretations, also alluded to in Portrait of a Lady on Fire but seen in several female-authored adaptations of the myth too, where Eurydice provokes Orpheus into looking back because she wants to stay in the Underworld. The viewpoint kinder to Orpheus is that Eurydice also wants to preserve their love just as it was, youthful, passionate, and blissful, rather than subject it to the ravages of time and the hardships of life. The variation less sympathetic to Orpheus is that Euyridice was at peace in death, in some versions she drank from the river Lethe and doesn't even remember Orpheus, his attempt to take her back is selfish, and she prefers to be her own free woman than be bound to him forever and literally only live for his sake.

With that interpretation in mind, I'm surprised I've never read yet another variation. I can imagine a version where, as Orpheus walks up the path toward the living world, he realizes he's being selfish: Eurydice was happy and at peace in the Elysian Fields, she doesn't even remember him because she drank from Lethe, and she's only following him now because Hades and Persephone have forced her to do so. So he finally looks back out of selfless love, to let her go. Maybe I should write this retelling myself.

Are any of these interpretations – or any others – the "true" or "definitive" reason why Orpheus looks back? I don't think so at all. The fact that they all exist and can all ring true says something valuable about the nature of mythology.

#mythology #greek mythology #orpheus #eurydice #orpheus and eurydice #analysis #interpretations #adaptations #long

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sincerelybubbles · 3 months ago

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ok shy bau reader and the team finally managed to get her to come a rossi dinner party so she can meet the rest of the team families that she hasn’t met yet, maybe after her first date with hitch and the team realized quickly she softened very fast with the kids and jack and her just seemed to click really fast and jack had her talking more than any of the team has so far… hotch is star eyes

hotch x shy!bau!reader \\ Dinner and Delights

Warnings: brief mention/allusions to Christianity. Otherwise, fluff! More insight into what Aaron is thinking :) I got very carried away, I hope you enjoy <3

"Woah hot stuff, where are you going so fast?" Morgan intercepts you with an arm around your shoulder as you attempt to slip out of the BAU unnoticed. "Hopefully to get ready for our big dinner plans?"

It's not that you don't want to go to one of Rossi's famous dinner parties, you're just afraid that your sub-par social skills would be noticeable by tenfold in a more casual environment.

At work, you can hide your quietness by talking about the psychology of the unsub, your specialty as a licensed psychologist. You can pretend you're not hiding in your shell when the team is all laughing and talking about personal lives by quietly listening while pretending to read your maps and journals. You can observe them and spend time with them, because you do truly love them all at this point, without feeling bad that you prefer to listen over talk.

And that's really it - you prefer to listen to them. You would say you've all but warmed up to all of them. You like Morgan's teasing, Emily's stories, Reid's rambling, Rossi's sarcasm, and Hotch's...

Everything, but the thought snaps you back to the present before you can dwell on memories of a sweet date in a dark restaurant.

"Of course," you succeed, nodding and sending him a tight-lipped smile.

"Hey," he slows you down and stops in the hallway, turning you to face him gently before lifting his hands in a placating gesture as if you were an animal he expects to run. "You don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with but I promise none of us are trying to lead our little lamb to slaughter. We know you're quiet," the admission embarrasses you and makes you feel guilty pleasant that he sounds so gentle about it, "and nobody minds, I think it's cute and I think the rest are just happy our other genius isn't as vocal as Reid."

Your nose scrunches at the small dig and you open your mouth to protest at putting Reid down to lift you up.

"And look at that! Another thing we all love - you're quiet but won't let anyone say anything about the other behind their back. You're a good person, we all just want to spend some less-intense time with you. So, go home and doll yourself up, and get ready to see Hotch wine tipsy. We all know that's your main motivator." Morgan winks at you and moves quickly down the hall and away from you, laughing, before you can protest.

He's not wrong, though, and you shake your head as you move toward the elevator.

You end up on Rossi's doorstep, choking the neck of a bottle of expensive wine between two sweaty palms. Your heart is in your throat, nerves humming in anticipation.

Your team cares about you. Nobody expects you to be anything you're not. Gentle affirmations meant to soothe over your skin in gently lapping waves erupt into steam; like water hitting lava rock. You're too tense, too worried about not saying enough or too much; saying the wrong thing or saying the right thing only once and never living up to the expectation of repeated occurrences.

"Hey," Emily says from behind you. You turn to see her jogging up to stand beside you, brushing off her pants and adjusting her jacket. "You brought wine!" She cheers happily, reaching past you to turn the nob and open the door.

She gestures you inside, making no comment about your obvious hesitance. With her by your side, your nerves are calmed. Aside from Aaron, she's the easiest for you to be around. You don't feel any expectations with Emily. She doesn't talk too much or too little, doesn't push, doesn't ever send a pitying look when you opt out of activities outside of work.

"Château Lafite," you say to her, lifting the wine and shaking it gently in the air as you walk inside.

"Oh! Fancy wine."

"Wine?" Rossi asks, rounding a corner. He's dressed slightly more casually in a soft sweater and jeans, drying his hands off with a pristine dish towel. "The more the merrier, bring it in here."

You follow his gesture back into the kitchen, leaving Emily to go to what you presume is the living or dining area.

"Where did you find this?" Rossi asks, taking the wine from you to examine it and letting out a low whistle as he appreciates it.

"Just my local winery," you say, neglecting to admit that you go there often enough that the owner leaves the nicer stuff behind the counter for you.

Lonely nights crave wine, twisting them into lovely things you can appreciate. You enjoy your own company after years of quietly observing others. You've learned how to observe yourself, too, after all of these years.

And, even though you don't quite realize it, the self-awareness carries like confidence. That's what Aaron sees in you: observant eyes darting across a room and noticing everything, understanding flickering before anyone else catches a cue, deft movements across the paper while taking notes, and swift motions always with a purpose.

It's what he sees now, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans while he leans in the doorway of Rossi's kitchen, watching you. How could he not? You're a lovely creature, always begging for his eyes to settle on you for another second, and then another.

He knows the moment you realize he's in the room, minutes before Rossi. You stand straighter, tilt your chin lower, and are aware far before you tilt your head to the side to send him a soft smile. He returns it before Rossi can catch him. It's a warmth he wants to reserve for you.

"Dave," he interrupts the other man's monologuing about the wine he's sure you already know all about, "Jack would like to know if he and Spencer can use your chess set when he gets here?"

"Of course, I'll get it from my study." Rossi leaves, passing you the wine and gesturing to the opener.

Aaron steps in before you can start the process of opening the wine. He doesn't quite know why, but he wants to do it for you. He finds himself wanting that more and more recently: to do simple tasks for the sole purpose of you not having to do them. Opening doors and pulling out chairs are simple gestures that he did with Hayley, but he wants to do sillier, smaller, things, too. Straighten the pens on your desk back into their cup, reorganize the files on your desktop, untangle the wires of the headphones he really should reprimand you for using at your desk, open a damn bottle of wine he can't pronounce the name of but that he heard you say so gently to Emily as you walked in.

"Jack's here?" You ask, handing him the wine and crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter to watch him work.

He relishes how your eyes focus on his arms, pupils dilating, as his muscles work under his thin henley.

"Yes, I have him this weekend and he likes to spend time with Reid and Garcia."

He has to step closer to reach above you to get the wine glasses. He could ask you to step aside, tuck his hand against your waist to move you himself, or simply walk into the next room to grab the glasses sitting on the table. But, instead, he tucks one foot in between yours, puts one hand on the back of your head to guard it from the cabinet, and opens it to find the nicer crystal there.

Your breath hitches across his neck and he remembers the chaste kisses he's given you before. Nothing serious, nothing has been yet because he's waiting for you to lead him into that, but tantalizing nonetheless. He steps back to pour the wine, standing closer to you than he started.

A little for you, passed gently, and then a little for him. Dave could pour his own glass.

You take the wine and sip it slowly, tongue darting out to taste before you sip. He's reminded of communion as a child. The blood of christ, sacred, something to be tasted but not meant to satiate. Reverence in a sip, devotion in a small act.

He wants to give you the same thing. The desire hits him in the sternum, suddenly, leaving him winded as he watches you lower the glass. Your eyes are locked on his, you haven't seemed as hesitant about holding his gaze recently - something that makes him melt - and he wonders if you can feel how he wants to take care of you. How he wants to show you the same force that water uses to carve canyons. Persistence and pressure, time and care. He's willing to take his time, he's filled with the same patience as everything all together in nature. He's a rabbit perched on its hind legs, sniffing the wind for safety before darting forward; the bird hung in flight between beats of wings, the whisper of wind carrying small seeds miles away to wait and watch the growth. Wait, wait, wait, however long it takes, he's there. For you.

It's a strong feeling to fully realize in David Rossi's kitchen, but he's grateful for it, anyway.

"It's good," you comment softly, eyes smiling.

"Is it?" He asks, setting his glass down and retaking his spot nearer to you. He misses your warmth. "Can I?" He asks, brushing his fingers across your jugular before cupping your cheek.

"Taste the wine?" You tease, eyes flickering to his glass. The gentle jest pulls a chuckle from his chest. Another thing you've become more comfortable doing around him. His blood and bones sing at how familiar you can be with him.

"Yes," he says in a breath, dipping his head down to brush his lips against yours.

And you're reciprocating - you've always reciprocated, enthusiastically, just never in the pressing way you are now. You set down your own glass to hold his arms in both of your hands. Fingers dig into his arm as you sigh and open your mouth, new lands to explore, tilting your head back to grant him full access.

"Daddy?" Jack asks and Aaron pulls away, a man parched and staring at an oasis in the middle of a desert, before Jack can round the corner. He doesn't go far, though, hand traveling down to the small of your back as he turns.

"Jack?" Aaron replies, waiting for him to come around the corner.

"Hello," Jack says, stopping in the doorway and looking up at you with wide eyes.

You've met him a few times before, always in passing, but you still smile warmly and wave at him.

"Hi, Jack."

"Do you know how to play chess?" Jacks asks. Aaron smiles at the eagerness on his son's face.

"Yes, I do. Would you like to play?"

"Yes please!" Jack jumps forward to grab your hand, pulling you into the living room before you can react.

You go easily, though, following him with a gentle laugh that warms the coldest parts of him. Pieces of him he doesn't think have seen the light in years brighten at the sound. He's heard you laugh before but something about the sight of you laughing because of Jack illuminates needs that he didn't even know he had. Needs you're meeting before he can feel the yawning desire of them.

He follows, unable to resist the desire to see you two interact over and over again. You're setting up the board, listening to Jack chatter on, nodding intently.

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muntitled · 7 months ago

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𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aegon Targaryen x Fem!reader

Summary: You were the only one who truly saw the tortured king. Not his mother, not his brother, and certainly not his wife.

Warning: Language, Infidelity, Humiliation, Toxicity, King Complex, Slight Angst, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Canon typical Incest, Grinding, Forced orgasm, King Kink?, Dom/Sub Themes, Controlled Orgasm, Ownership Kink, Dub/Con, Groping, Humping, Pussy rubbing, Exhibition Kink

This isn't very good, I admit. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Despite your eye following the pathway of High Valyrian ink splashed on the weathered pages of your book, your brain takes forever to process the words.. It is a story you had enjoyed since the days of your wetnurse but now you are focused on the utter injustices occurring by the dinner table before you. You always found your nose nestled in a book throughout dinner, all save for this one.

The Queen mother is bent over her plate, forgetting her table manners in the vehemence of her passions, while Aemond assumes a hostile glare from his perch at the head of the table. Aegon sits slumped in between you and Helena, with his half lidded eyes so painfully tedious as he prods at his food, while these fake gods scold him from above.

"And to make matters impossibly worse, you failed to display even a shred of sympathy towards his condition-" Despite the nature of his mother's tone, it does not stop Aegon from rebutting where necessary, with a quick, sharpness on his tongue.

"This 'condition' you speak of, being the imprisonment of a wealthy merchant's stupid son." Aegon releases a short, winded chuckle, one that you share behind the concealment of your book. "Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten himself captured."

"He is apart of your battalion, Aegon- fighting your war-"

"I am not at war. As I sit here, I am not harbouring any ill feelings towards any party-"

Aemond interrupts, "All you think about is fucking and drinking-"

"Precisely brother!" Aegon proceeds to turn to his mother, with his hands splayed outwards he reiterates, "All I think about is fucking and drinking,"

A loud, unladylike snort escapes the confines of your throat which you attempt to sheath with a cough as you study the words in your book. Aemond rolls his eyes while Aegon throws a blatant smirk beside you- "See Mother! Now our dear cousin has fallen ill as a result of the animosity stirred by your incessant scolding!” Aegon’s voice is doused in sarcasm as he rubs his hand into your shoulder, “All because of your nagging, mother," Alicent’s eyes darken as her voice descends into caution "Aegon. Tomorrow you are to formally apologise to that Knight. He is a seasoned member of your Kingsguard-" The politics was becoming far too much on him. His grip has yet to leave your shoulder.

"Why the complete and utter fuck should I be pandering to my subjects?"

Aemond is the first to inject "Have you not a shred of Diplomacy, you fucking imbecile?" You eye Aemond from above your book, and you cannot begin to imagine the younger brother would ever inject himself into Aegon's business, no reason except perhaps, jealousy?

Aegon promptly ignores Aegon, and, with his eyes on Alicent, he leans over the table and whispers:

"If Rhaenyra wishes to have the crown, she may gladly take it-"

"AEGON!" The queen's thunderous voice settles over the table like a tempest, injecting all those present with a sharp, instinctive flinch, all except Aegon, who remains lax and unaffected by her outburst, only fueling the Queen's anger to first born tenfold.

"I cannot rely on you for anything, Aegon, NOTHING! For a mother to be so utterly embarrassed by her son- her eldest son," there is venom in her incredulity, one that has your brows curving as you send a sympathetic gaze at the Usurper. You lower your novel and lean slightly closer to the battlefield that has befallen the dinner table. Aegon’s hand drops from your shoulder, landing in your lap. You clasp his trembling hand in both of yours.

How a simple visit to see your cousins in King's Landing had turned into a public execution of Aegon's dignity, is utterly beyond you. You decide that you simply will not allow it, you cannot allow it, and solidarity is all you hope Aegon feels radiating from your clasped hands under the table.. You look up at him, thinking you might look up to find anguish in Aegon's eyes, but all you find there is a sly, almost secretive smirk dancing along his visage.

"You govern this country like a child-" Aemond begins but you're quick to snip back,

"Perhaps we should be mindful, cousin of the fact that Aegon still is a child. He is but 20 years in age!" You exclaim, with your own incredulity coating your laughter, "Aegon's destiny was pre-written when you were barely able to wipe your own shit, Cousin." Aegon fails to conceal his crass bought of laughter.

"I've no time for this," Alicent says, pushing herself out of her chair before rising in silent anger, "Helena, come," she commands before leading a slightly aloof Helena out the dining hall without another word. Helena mumbles something about broken unions in iron castings before disappearing.

The silence is deafening as Aemond's one eye studies the two of you - he is not able to see your hand underneath the table, you don’t think…

"Before you think about fucking our cousin, at least think about fucking your wife." Aemond announces, to an amused Aegon who keeps his amused gaze lowered to the table. It is then that Aegon squeezes your hand, still seated on your lap. His fingers encircle yours in what you initially deduce is acknowledgement of your solidarity, but what you quickly realise is something much more sinister.

"I cannot say I will heed your counsel, brother," It is then that Aegon grabs ahold of your hand, guiding you until your palm is cupping his hardened cock. "But you can trust that your council is solemnly heard."

Aemond watches you from above the rim of his chalice as he empties the final traces of his wine before placing his chalice back on the table. His exit is a slow one, one that has your anticipation expanding and Aegon's patience waning. In all honesty, hearing your valiant defence to preserve his dignity raised an intense feeling of desire in Aegon. Even though Aegon's only feeling ever, always seemed to be desire.

"Come here," He says once Aemond footsteps have echoed away, "I need your mouth," Despite his command, Aegon is already leaning in with his hand cupping the back of your skull. Soon, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can taste is the drunken and sunken taste of him.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, ripping a fresh groan from inside you as he twirls you into his lap. He has you arrested on him, his front to your back, with your arse pressed on his crotch. His hand on your face cranes your neck backwards and forces his mouth on yours, promising that even if you wanted to free yourself, you may never be able to.

"I love how you see me," He whispers, never breaking away too far, in fear of you disappearing, "How utterly pleased I am with the version of myself I see living in your eyes," His words spill out of him and slip inside your mouth bridged by your shared saliva.

"He is not useless. He is not pitiful," Aegon breaks away from the kiss, to lay a palm on your cheek.

As one hand lovingly strokes the side of your face, Aegon’s other hand is ravenous, as it palms your sensitive breasts through the bodice of your dress.

"Thank you for not judging me," He all but whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in until his hips attempt to grind into you like a touch starved adolescent boy, while he ventures under your soft skirts.

"You don't have to thank me, Aegon." Your hands reach backwards to cradle his head into the crook of neck just as Aegon's fingers reach around to hook into the seat of your underwear. You aren't nearly as aroused as him, but somehow that fact has Aegon spiralling even further into arousal. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

"It is very rare that I find myself wanting to give any woman pleasure," Aegon's admits, with a low, dense drawl. His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, "I fucking love your cunt," He murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with it and taste it and fuck it until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach the highest rafter of the dining hall. Despite your degenerate wails, Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"When did you get so fucking wet?" The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, as he presses his front against your behind, "Did I get you this wet?" He asks, before getting the strongest surge of arousal as he whispers, "Did your King get you this wet?"

All you are able to accomplish is a nod as your mind explodes with vibrant visions of your near release. Soon, you're moving your hips in tandem with Aegon's fingers squeezing sloppily at your clit before rubbing with vicious surety.

"Please-"

"Call me by my title," He whispers, completely stripped from his sensibilities. "Tell your King to make you come," Aegon's brain is filled with what he suspects is determination. He is determined to see the most lecherous parts of you crack, and have it done by his design. He rubs your cunt with furious passion while he pushes up from underneath you, utterly destroyed by the idea of having a monopolised control over the workings of your body.

"Fuck- please my King!" The ache between your legs is as warm and erratic as Aegon's hands. "Please let me cum-"

"Tis only I, who can get My Lady this wet and needy," He murmurs, quite literally to himself, as he pushes his hips against your arse.

"Only you, My King." You decide to humour him, seeking the quickest way to your release, "Only you can make me cum," Throughout his tirade, Aegon's other, unoccupied hand has reached around and clasped itself against your throat. He is violent in his actions, squeezing deliriously until your throat is vacuumed of all its air. It's an utterly depraved situation you have both found yourselves in.

Anyone could decide to walk in at any moment and Aegon affirms as much. "You're such a pretty little whore, making a mess on my fingers like this. Fuck, The servants could decide to walk through at any moment," His grip on your throat relaxes, allowing you gasp hungrily for air while the first spots of your organs threaten to surge through you.

"P-Please, My King-"

"What would they think if they find you humping my hand like such a needy, little whore?" He is rubbing rough circles against your cunt until finally, you're unable to resist teetering on the edge much longer. As your orgasm washes over you, and your body shudders above him, Aegon's own orgasm is triggered as he forces your hips further onto the seat of his pants.

"My Lord," your voice is shallow but a restless tremor settles on your limbs, "Have you no shame," you're partially jesting, as you try to come back from your previous delirium.

"I've already been branded a devil," He says, "There is no Grace left to fall from."

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd aegon #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen smut #hotd smut #aegon smut

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narfin-frood · 22 days ago

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i've been itching to share my swap au since i thought it up, but i think i now finally have an actual baseline to introduce it with!!

the idea isn't that it's a personality swap, but a role swap, with wander and sylvia as antagonists and hater and peepers as the protags, and i have a whole lot to say about it so im gonna go ahead and infodump below the cut

so i've renamed these two, at least, since hater's story has become less about getting over himself and more about how he sees the world Now That He's Gotten Over Himself. i'm calling him The Great (and absent) Lord Lackadaisical right now, but i don't think that's what he'd like to be called, since he's an absent ruler who doesn't really care to be in a position of so much power and would rather fuck off to all the planets with really nice hot tubs. he and Sir Peepers (his loyal knight who cannot be convinced to leave his side) travel the galaxy with hater's sweet ride (i'm not too good at designing motorcycles yet. pending).

i haven't thought of new names/titles for wander and sylvia just yet (i cannot just call him Sitter Over Therer) but i do know what their deal is, and it's the main reason i made this au (i feel like if wander were a villain he would not in fact be a villain like lord hater or dominator because i think that kinda disregards wander's whole Shit, he'd be like screwball, and even then he'd have very strong convictions that he's doing the right thing): wander has a cult (a hivemind, kinda) and sylvia is his priest.

i think wander comes along this mushroom during a time in his life when everything seems to have been torn asunder, and instead of continuing his adventures and learning and growing as a person, the mushroom offers a solution that doesn't require much effort on his behalf. the mushroom links people together borg-style, makes them share a brain and a purpose. wander not only thinks it's super neat, but he's in such a poor state of mind when he finds it, he convinces himself it's the only way to make the galaxy a better place.

sylvia is the only person in his Ring of Friends who isn't hooked up to the mushroom, because she's actually wander's friend, and she's his ride or die. she does the things she does out of free will and dedication to her best friend, including preaching and fisticuffs.

^^^ here's some more of my initial concept art. originally the mushroom was gonna be a tree, but i had a vision of an upside down mushroom (or several, to take the place of watchdogs) scuttling around and by god is it easy to make that look like his hat.

the thing that really really pushes wander over the edge is the sheer boredom of it all. when he's connected to the mushroom, he's very little more than the brain they all share. he can't move around, and that KILLS him (see: the hole lotta nuthin). so when hater (name pending) comes along and refuses to join him and annoys him enough, he gets suuuuper stoked about having something to really DO for once.

anyway. this is what i've got for now. do you like it. you can be honest if you dont like it

#myart #wander over yonder #wander #lord hater #commander peepers #sylvia the zbornak #lord lackadaisical #sir peepers #uhhhhhhhhh. whatever i end up tagging swap wander and sylvia as #txt #swap au #swap wander #sister sylvia

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beautifulpaprika · 5 months ago

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A Beast and a Bracelet (m)

pairing: fem!reader x beast!jk

warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, in the forest!

summary: You tried saving someone ... again. However, this group is large and bloodthirsty, and trying to lose them in a forest isn't working. Yet, when you find a cave, it seems to be your saving grace. Not because of what's in it, but who's in it.

word count: 8.7k

Branch after branch hits me in the face- my hair getting caught in the branches more than once as I run from the group of men after me.

“Stay out of the business of men, Y/N,” my father always told me. Of course, when I spotted the ready-to-beat-a-man in front of his children, I couldn’t sit back and chug a pint. I had nothing better to do. I didn’t think through the part where there were three of them and one of me.

The plan was running into the forest where the monster stories came from- stories of missing people and blood trails - in hopes they would be too afraid, but by the footfalls following close behind, I can safely determine they are not as fearful as I am of the forest.

I have no navigation in the pitch black and wood. My lungs feel ready to give up on me, and the noises I hear on my left sound a lot like something ready to pounce on me. But I keep running.

“Come on, brave one! You wanna jump in to our business? We can do this right now!” One of the men calls from behind me. I’m astounded they have the air to be able to catch up and yell at the same time.

I attempt a look behind me, my eyes glancing at a small light catching up. Panic rises in me and boils over, tears welling in my eyes, making finding safety even more difficult.

There’s a dark mass ahead- a cave surrounded by weeds and vines. Pictures of monsters with sharp teeth and blood dribbling down their chin appear in my mind.

“Get her!” one man calls out. They’re on my tail and I have to make a decision.

One foot in front of the other until it’s pitch black in the cave. My footsteps echo off of the cave wall and I almost slip in the mud. The sound of splashing water urges me to turn back. Something is in here, and it’s not a bunny.

I stick close to the wall, unmoving.

Unfortunately for me, a light shines in the cave.

“There you are,” the one in front says. They all have a hungry look in their eyes that tells me everything I need to know about their intentions.

My eyes sting from the tears welling. I should’ve listened to my father. I should’ve kept to myself.

The frontman grabs my arm, but I scream when his touch is gone as soon as it’s there.

Growling mixing with agonizing screams draws my attention. The light is suddenly gone -it’s pitch black and I hear the nervous panting of the other two men.

The screaming stops and my breath catches, not wanting the creature to hear me. It’s not a second longer when the screams start up and the crunching of bones and ripping and tearing of skin join it.

The gurgle from the second man doesn’t stop before the third one follows. The screams and noises last for a few moments longer. When it stops, I close my eyes. I’m preparing for the death that is to come, asking any forces out there to grant a quick death and for my father to never have to find me.

A huff in front of my face pushes my hair from my face.

I hate the pathetic whimper I give to the creature.

Its breathing is heavy and similar to that of a dog.

“I’m sorry I intruded,” I whine, “I didn’t know where else to go,” I whisper. It feels useless to ask for mercy from a creature that most likely can’t understand me.

However, it doesn’t seem as impossible as I thought when the huffing retreats from me. The hot air is gone, and I’m out of breath when I hear a splashing again- just like the one I heard when I came in.

I squint my eyes, trying to see rather than hear.

There’s a new panting sound coupled with coughing and spitting, but it sounds human. Nothing like the creature growling deep while it tore men to pieces.

Feet slap the wet floor, and I continue to hold my breath, not wanting to make any sudden movements.

“I know you’re there,” a voice calls. It doesn’t sound menacing or annoyed- more matter-of-fact than anything. Rustling sounds move from my right side to across from me.

A light appears, causing me to cover my eyes with my arm to adjust to the sudden brightness.

“A ‘thank you’ would have been nice,” the same voice is right in front of me now. I slowly lower my arm, not wanting to be bombarded by light again.

My eyes glide up to be met with a man’s curious gaze. The light shows off his raised eyebrows and glistening chest. His dark hair sticks to the sides of his face. He must have been the one who was making all the water sounds. I come back down, looking past his legs to the three bodies behind him. I gasp at their state. Torn limbs, popping eyes, frozen faces of shock.

“Oh, that,” he grimaces. “That is quite the mess I’ll have to clean,” he mumbles.

“Who are you?” I look back at him. “Did you do that? How-“

”None of these words sound like appreciation,” he crouches down, his head tilting. “Should I have let them have their way with you?” He asks. I look past him again, a rage boiling inside men from the thought of those torn-up hands being on me instead. I shake my head.

“I’m grateful,” my voice is low.

“Good enough for now,” he gets up again, moving back to the space across from me. “You can go,” he announces and I’m caught off guard by it.

That’s it?

He sets the light down as I stare in amazement. He’s already heaving one body over his shoulder without a struggle.

I slap myself for gawking at his back muscles and the marred skin as he takes one body and starts to carry it out.

The half-naked man stops in his tracks and slowly turns to me.

“You can leave at any time, bunny.” I have to stop myself from flinching at the pet name.

My mind becomes dizzy at the choices of staying or going. This man is new, a mystery, and I can’t help but be curious. He’s the one who saved me and I’m supposed to walk out as if nothing happened?

“I’d like to help,” before he can reject my offer, I’m picking up a ripped-off arm and a toe tossed away. Nausea rises in my body up to my throat, but I hold it back before I make even more of a mess.

I’m ready to follow the man out, but his body is fully turned to me now, the body still on his shoulder. I try avoiding his stare by walking past him, but he blocks me.

His eyes scan me from top to bottom. I shiver under his wandering eyes.

“What are you doing?”

”It’s the least I could do for intruding your. . . space,” I refer to the cave. “And it’s obvious you saved me from imminent death . . . And worse,” I gulp, and his eyes follow the movement in my throat.

I wait for him to say anything or reject my offer, but he doesn’t. He turns, the dead expression of the man on his shoulders flinging towards me. I gag at the wounds down his face.

“If you’re going to do that the whole way, I suggest you go home instead,” he tells me.

I shake my head, despite the fact that he can’t see me.

We trek out into the forest, carrying our bodies (and body parts). The lamp attached to his pants lights the way, but I can’t help looking at the way it drags his pants down his hips a tad. His skin is dry now and I notice the scars down his back more easily.

“You’ll need to clean up afterward,” he says before throwing the body in an empty spot between some trees. “Going home from this forest will have questions thrown at you enough, but coming back with blood? You won’t survive,” he explains.

I throw the hand and toe on the spot.

“You sound like you speak from experience,” it’s as if I have a death wish making such a suggestion, but he laughs it off. Maybe I’m not incorrect. After all, there’s a reason he lives in the cave.

He doesn’t say another word but turns to return to the cave.

“How long have you been out here?” I try to break the silence. He gives me a look. “You have a made bed and some supplies in that cave of yours, your hair is-” he gives me another look and I stop talking. The hair must be a sensitive topic.

“It's been a few years. . .”

The shock in my body slows my walking down. Years?

“Did you run away from home?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs.

I don't ask any more questions for fear of seeming more intrusive than I already am.

“Where is your pond of water?” I ask, trying to fling some of the blood on my fingers.

He freezes at the question.

“You have one. I heard it,” I walk further into the darkness, hoping to find the small body of water.

I notice something glistening and take a step towards it.

But then my feet lose their balance and my back is against the wall. Air leaves my lungs when the man’s face crowds mine, his hands caging me on both sides.

“Don’t. Touch. That. Water,” he’s panting and I can only see the left side of his face. The anger and anxiety cinching every feature.

I notice the splotch of blood sitting on his eyebrow and lick my finger to rub it off.

He flinches when my finger touches him, but his eyebrow doesn’t relax.

“I won’t touch it,” I promise. “I apologize,” I plea that he accepts the apology- my life being at risk and whatnot.

“You don’t owe me anything. Go home,” he breaks away from me turning to gather the next body.

“How do I know they won’t come for you? That you’ll be okay?” He freezes on the spot again. “I want to help!” I confess. I don’t want to prove my father right. Not about not being able to defend myself and not about being useless to this world.

He doesn't say a word but looks back at the body left torn on the ground. It's enough to answer my question.

“I think I'll be alright,” he says. He makes his way out of the cave and I follow after him.

“There are more guys then where that came from, I can promise you that! They’ll come looking,” I try. I try to convince him tha t we need each other. My hope is that he says yes and lets me figure out the mystery that he is.

“I handled three and I’ll handle more,” he grunts as he throws the body into the spot.

“How do you know people won’t find this?” I gesture to the pile of limbs.

“It’s still night. The monsters will take care of it. Monsters worse than me,” he says with a low voice, staring directly at me. The words do as he intended. With a shiver running down my spine, I’m officially afraid.

“I’ll go home,” I tell him, turning away ready to follow the tracks home.

“You do that,” he makes his way back to the cave.

“I‘ll be back tomorrow!” I call.

“No, you won’t!” He calls back before disappearing into the dark.

***

I keep my promise to return. This time I bring bread and treats with me, hoping something sweet is enough to tame the beast. I’m not sure what kind of beast he really is, but what does it matter if he doesn’t hurt me?

It’s clear I haven’t learned my lesson last night by getting into “men’s business”. This man is only half man, so it counts. I suppose.

A leaf crunches behind me, and I swivel to confront whoever’s following me, but Im only met with the sight of a misty forest wind moving through grass and dirt.

“Y-yeah! You better not fuck with me!” I cringe at my voice wavering on the swear word.

“You really spooked them away, bunny,” a deep chuckle sounds behind me.

I swirl to look at the scarred man, a smirk spreading across his face. He approaches me casually, like any man on the street would- except he has no shirt, and his hair is still tousled, and his pants are ripped in different areas.

“Your anxiety is palpable,” he says, tilting his head at me, while tapping a finger top my chin.

“I’m not scared of anything,” I lie.

“I know your idea here is to be brave, but you can’t be brave if you have nothing to fear,” his hand taps the sack hanging in my hand. “What’s this?” he asks.

I hold the bag to him, the smell of fresh bread and cake wafting around us.

“For you,” I push it towards him as his eyebrow lifts. “I don’t have any money, but my father and I can bake pretty well,” I shove it towards him again, but he continue s to stare at me. “Yes. It’s a bribe, but I’d like to show you that this team,” I point to him and myself, “can work out pretty well.”

“And why do you want to be a team?” he asks, his arms crossing over his chest, his biceps protruding. I gulp at them, then catch myself looking back at the man. The smirk tells me he noticed me checking him out.

“I’d like to do more in town, but with the risk of being killed, I can’t do it as much as I’d like. I want your help. For protection,” I propose. I realize the more I talk, the more my body caves in. I quickly adjust to lift my chin and he chuckles at me.

His eyes narrow, then surprise. I try to process the shock on his face.

“You-” his arms uncross and I wait for his words.

“What?” I ask. His eyes cut deep into mine and I suddenly feel awkward in my spot.

He relaxes again, back to his normal composure. “You’ve got a deal,” he announces. Before I can ask him what that was, he’s already turning away and heading in the opposite direction. I try to make out some of the shapes in his back.

I quickly avert my eyes when he looks back at me and start to follow him.

“I brought some other things as well,” I show the bag in my other hand. “Another peace offering, but also . . . basic hygiene,” I shake the bag in excitement. The girls in town never let me braid their hair, but it’s alright. There’s someone who needs my services more anyway.

He doesn’t say much, only continues to walk and even cleans sticks and rocks from the ground.

“It’s a bit useless to clean the forest isn’t it?” I ask.

“It’s meant to be a path, so that you can easily find your way back and forth,” his words catch me off guard. It’s a small gesture, but it’s nice to know he’s keeping me in mind when he does.

I gawk at him for a few moments longer until the noise of running water breaks me out of the trance. We come up on a small creek dug into the ground. This is no cave.

“I didn’t see this last night,” I whisper.

“We didn’t come here last night,” he points out. I give him a questioning look, for him to answer in a shrug, “You said you have a few things for hygiene and a couple of treats - let’s have a picnic, bunny,” I shake my head at the nickname.

“Why do you call me that?”

“I’m big. You're small. I thought that was obvious,” he raises a branch for me and I pass through.

“It wasn’t that obvi-”

“Where did you say you came from?” he suddenly asks from behind me.

“I come from the town just outside of here,” I tell him, turning to face him. He hums in answer. “Have you ever been there? It’s right outside of this forest,” his face scrunches, contemplating.

“I’m from the cave, that’s it. Now that we’ve gotten introductions out of the way-” he pulls the torn-up pants down his legs and I gasp at the muscles on him. He could crush a man’s head with those thighs. “Let’s get to that wash,” he says, a hint of excitement touching his tone.

He steps down, slowly, into the water.

I put a fingertip in the water. I hiss at the cold, but he seems entirely unphased. He seems to enjoy it if anything.

I admire the way he’s able to bask in the cold water.

“Alright, what’s next, bunny? Where’s the soap at?” he calls.

“How do you know about soap?” I had assumed he never joined society. I gather my bag, bringing out soap, sponge, a hairbrush, and a pair of nail clippers. I grab the hairbrush first, waving him over.

“I haven’t always been out here,” he explains, slowly making his way towards me. His back faces me, and despite him being taller than me, I still can’t reach him at a comfortable position.

“Can you just . . . come a little closer?” I reach again, only able to reach so far without falling into the water.

He leans backwards, not able to step back without slipping on the tilted creek floor. I reach for his hair, and I’m able to brush it, but the angle is uncomfortable. I try to brush the strands lower, by his neck, but my arms quickly tire.

“Hold on- Just-” I say, trying to fix my posture.

His head turns to give me a side-eye, and I watch him roll his eyes.

“I know something that might help,” he gestures to me to lean over just a bit more. I try my best to have my body hover over the water without falling in.

The man leans over to grab me underneath my arms - my scream muffled by the water rushing into my mouth. My feet are able to reach the ground and thrust me to the surface.

My ears fill with the sound of his laughter once they clear out. I turn to him slowly, the cold water causing my eyes to twitch and my body to shiver . . . Or is that the anger?

“What is wrong with you!” I swear the birds get spooked at my yelling. “I am trying to help.”

“You're trying to butter me up. I already said I would do what you asked, there’s no need to cater to me any more,” his arms reach up to brush his hair back, but his fingers catch easily in the knots. “I brush with my fingers,” he says, proudly.

Despite my anger, I draw closer to him, his breathing slowing as he looks down at me.

“While brushing with fingers could work . . .” I start. I grab his arm and pull him to where his back is facing me again. I try not to stare at the obvious scars in different sizes and shapes running down his back. “It’s not going to do all the work. Trust me, the brush will make you feel lighter.” The weight of my clothing drags me down a smidge but I ignore it. I start at the bottom of his long, dark strands. I expect to hear a ‘hiss’ or feel a flinch on some of the knots, but he doesn’t. He actually seems relaxed. His head leans back and a hum occasionally sounds from him.

I pour more water on his head, following the line down his spine until it meets the water at his waist. I admire hsi figure, dragging a finger down the same path as the water, sometimes detouring to some of the scars.

I kick myself out of the trance, and when I look back up to focus on the hair again, his head is already slightly turned to look at me.

“Um, I’m sorry. I got curious,” I admit.

“About?”

“What your skin would feel like. I don’t think I’ve seen so many scars,” I say. His eyebrows pinch. “I don’t mean that as a bad thing. It’s new. And intriguing. And you should tell me about them,” I add a smile, hoping it’s enough to convince him.

“You ask for a lot. I’ve saved your life, isn’t that enough from me? If anything I should be asking you for more,” his arms cross. I snort at how pouty it makes him look.

“Well, I’m brushing your hair aren’t I? You know how many other men’s hair I’ve brushed?”

He turns in genuine interest.

“No one. No other man’s hair! And!” I reach for the bag sitting on the edge of the creek, ready to fall in. I dig through the bag, revealing another gift - a bar of lavender soap. “How many people have I given soap to? Zero,” I push it towards him, the bar leaving white residue on my fingers.

He reluctantly takes it, eyeing it, then me, then it.

“I’m not sure this is the compliment you-”

“Ungratefulness is not very becoming of you,” I interrupt.

His eyes peer up at me from under his eyelashes. “I’m still a bit sore, you know, from saving your life,” he says. I nod in understanding. “I’ll need help using this,” he hands me the bar.

I freeze my hands from playing with the water. I scan his face for any sign of joking, but he continues to hold it to me.

I take it, and he steps closer immediately, his body towering over mine. My attempt at not appearing nervous doesn’t work.

“I’ll do it if you can answer one question,” I tell him. He rolls his eyes but agrees. “Why is the water in the cave off-limits but the creek isn’t?” He’s initially annoyed by the question, but I watch him relax.

“It changes me. It’s the reason I was able to become the monster that helped you,” he flinches when I start to lather him in soap. Creek water isn’t the cleanest, but it’s all I have to make the soap softer. “The reason I couldn’t let you go in it is because it’s not something you easily come out of,”he explains. My hand trails over his abdomen and up his sides, he inhales sharply, but recovers quickly.

“What exactly do you turn into?”

“Half human, half dog, half beast. There are too many ways to describe it. It doesn’t help that at first you aren’t aware that you’re something else. It takes a couple of tries to not lose your mind. Some have succumbed to the madness, and others take it, go into town, cause chaos, and get themselves killed.” His eyes are distant as he talks. There’s something that tells me he is talking from experience. “It doesn’t help that when I take that form of the beast, it drains my energy. My human energy isn’t meant for a big body with that strength. It’s draining.”

“Are you the only one now, besides me, who knows about it?” I reach his neck, noticing a big difference in cleanliness.

He nods in answer.

“You haven’t lost your mind, though. Why are you different?” he shrugs at my question.

“I had a good mentor, at first,” his eyes turn down, “I also had a lot of motivation, I guess,” he holds his arms forward for me to wash.

“What was your motivation?”

He waits - the crickets nearby and the trees still.

“You’ve asked much more than one question now. The focus should be on getting this dirt off of me,” he wades over to the edge. “You should get my legs too,” he lifts one onto the wall and I screw my eyes shut, squealing- the sound of his laughter a massage to my brain.

***

The next day it’s raining. I cover myself with the sack that I brought for Jungkook (a name I learned while I was soaping his legs - truly a heartwarming moment.) This time it has a few shirts I stole from my father.

Jungkook told me I shouldn’t come back again at the risk of someone catching onto the fact that I was going into the forest too often. Judging by the trees surrounding me, I didn’t listen. I’ve checked my surroundings a million times before coming in.

A noise behind me makes me jump, but I start humming to soothe the nerves. I brought Jungkook a small cupcake with a bunny iced on the top. It’s a bit wet now from the rain, but I’m almost certain he’ll still like it.

After our day at the creek yesterday, I feel like he knows me better than anyone. The only thing I haven’t figured out is why he decides to stay out here instead of joining the rest of society. Well, when I truly think about it, I guess I can understand why he wouldn’t want to.

I release a breath when I arrive at the cave, grateful that I didn’t forget where it is.

“Jungkook?” I call as I walk in. My lantern is able to light up the slick walls. There’s running and shuffling until I approach him. He’s sitting criss-cross on the ground on a sheet, wide-eyed and open mouthed. “Jungkook? What are you doing?” I slowly approach him.

“Nothing. Sitting here,” he says it too quickly to believe him.

“What do you have behind you?”

“What’s that in your hand?” he nods to the cupcake I’m holding- the picture of the bunny looks a bit sad now. I don’t miss the way he decided to change the subject, but I can’t be bothered to bring it back up. He’ll have to move eventually.

“It was a cupcake,” I step closer and sit in front of him, he tenses a bit, “but the rain kind of . . .” I show it to him. He looks at it and I think I see a smile spreading across his face. I have to check twice that it’s not a teasing smile, but what I thought was true. He’s looking at it fondly.

He reaches for it, releasing whatever’s behind him.

“Thanks, Bunny,” he says. He doesn’t eat it but sets it beside him instead.

“Are you going to tell me what’s behind you now?” I ask. He’s right back to being tense. His mouth opens and closes, resembling a fish, and before he can say anything else, a voice yells out. We freeze and look out the mouth of the cave.

“Where the fuck did she go?” a man yells out again. Even with the rain, I can hear him clearly, meaning he’s too close. “Keep going! That bitch definitely had something to do with their disappearance!” he announces.

They know. They must be friends of those men’s whose bodies we dumped - and they followed me here.

Shit. How many times do I have to tell myself that I should have listened?

“Jungkook . . .” I whisper, but he’s already standing when I turn.

“Stay here. I’ll take care of it,” he demands. The gentle Jungkook who accepted my soggy cupcake is gone - replaced with a Jungkook who looks ready to drown someone in the very creek water we swam in.

“I’ll come with you,” I get ready to stand.

“Y/N . . . I appreciate it, but please don’t. It was always me who was supposed to take care of it. I’d feel a lot better if you stayed here,” with that, he jumps in the water. Meanwhile, I’m still caught up in how he knew my name. Jungkook may have fessed up his own, but I never did the same.

His beast rushes out of the water and I have no time to take a glance at him. His gray skin is the only thing I spot paired with a panting noise as he runs out.

Waiting in the cave for a mere three seconds is already torture. The waiting is agony especially when I can’t hear anything and not knowing how many followed me into the forest.

I occupy myself by looking around the cave, not that there’s much to look at. I spot the thing Jungkook was holding behind his back. It looks like a bracelet but made with flowers and grass. I smile at it. Jungkook hiding his soft side makes the bracelet all the more special.

A roar yanks my attention away. Yelling and screams rise above the rain from multiple people- more than three. I can’t just sit here. I can’t.

The rain drops are cool against my skin and I pick up a long stick as I run in the direction of the chaos.

My confidence in being able to help is not high, but my motivation is. There’s a pained whimper this time from Jungkook. My feet move faster now. It doesn’t matter if they can hear me coming to them as long as I’m able to get there- as long as he isn’t alone.

A choked sound comes from below me. One of the men Jungkook dealt with reaches out with the one arm he has left. His mouth forms the words “Help me,” but I look away before he can say anything else.

Leaves crunching and sounds of a struggle lead me to a clearing. Bodies are scattered in every part of the clearing, unmoving. There are a few bodies beyond the trees as well. This was much more than the three men Jungkook dealt with in the cave.

The beast himself sits in the middle. His skin is gray and slimy with hair in very few places. This form is indeed much bigger than the Jungkook I know.

I quickly approach without saying a word and examine his condition. He’s lying on his side, his breathing shallow. There are a few scratches on his sides and a gash down his face. He’s exhausted and I think back to when he said the beast form is not meant for him to stay in for a long time. His body exhausts easily and if he used a majority of it on fighting these men-

Damn it. I should’ve asked what happens when that energy is spent. Of all the times I have been nosy in my life and I couldn’t do it in such a crucial moment.

Jungkook’s beast eye peers up at me and huffs. I ignore the scolding and focus on how I’m going to help him. The pond is too big to be brought to him, so I’m going to have to bring him to it. I don’t let the thought of “How?” linger in my mind too long before I’m picking up his legs and dragging him with as much force as I can bear.

His groan is quiet behind me.

“Don’t speak! Don’t do anything!” I yell. I avoid one or two bodies. I haven’t made it far and my arms and back are aching.

“Use your legs, or you’ll do some damage to your back,” Father’s words echo in my mind. He’s told me so many wise things and yet I can never listen. It’s how I’m in this predicament in the first place. It’s the reason Jungkook is dying.

My throat closes as tears well up in my eyes.

“I’m not letting you die.”

***

Jungkook is practically on the brink of death when I dump him in the pool of water. The lantern lights the red stringing through the water and I cross my fingers that he doesn’t drown.

“Please, please, please,” I whisper, screwing my eyes shut, a tear falling as a result. “You’re my only friend, Jungkook. . .” I whisper. “Don’t leave.”

As soon as the words escape me, a head surfaces above the water. I’m on my knees in an instance reaching for him. He’s still very heavy when I pull him in, but nothing compared to when he was the beast.

“You’re okay!” I wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in. He hugs me back for only a second before I feel his body limp and fall. “Jungkook? Jungkook!” I call for him, but his breathing is weak. I pull him to where his sheet is, laying him gently. His eyes close and he enters sleep. I notice a bit of blood dripping down his face and sides from the battle.

I make sure his breathing is okay then leave him to rush back into town on a mission to take anything that could save him.

***

It’s the second day since Jungkook was attacked and it’s raining again. He’s woken up a few times for water, but nothing else. The bandages on his waist glare at me as I sit on the opposite side of the cave, humming a song, playing with the bracelet he has yet to finish.

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” his voice pipes up. I rush to him, a cup of water in hand from the creek. “I’d thought at least by now-” I put a finger to his lips- the rasp of his voice anxiety inducing.

“You need to save your energy. We can talk when you’re back to being normal,” I tip the cup into his mouth, and he takes it. When I’m done, he sits up despite my protests.

“I thought you liked the fact I wasn’t normal,” he whispers, his eyes off in the distance. I ignore the words seeing as that’s not my priority. “And I’m not talking about now. I’m talking about back then,” he meets my eyes now, then glides down to the bracelet I’m wearing. I’m ready to question what he means when I look at the bracelet.

It’s like a key now. A key to a memory I put away a long time ago.

***

11 years ago

“Keep crying. ‘S not like there’s anyone who’s gonna help you,” the blonde kid, nicknamed Jester, hits the boy again and I flinch behind the wall. “Where’s your parents?” Kicks him again and gestures for his friend to join in - and he does.

I can’t watch this anymore.

“Stop fucking with me-” before Jester can kick him again, I jump in, putting my body in front of the one who’s on the ground.

“What is wrong with you two!” I yell out.

“Mind your business, Y/N!” he tries to push me but I won’t budge. Finally, my height does something other than be the butt of every joke in town. Father always said I was an early bloomer and that my height could be an advantage. I didn’t see that until now.

“Fuck you!” I spit at him, surprised at my own cursing. If he was angry before, he’s enraged now. His fist reels back, and I see it coming, but the boy behind me rushes him, tackling Jester. His friend looks to me. Before he can make any moves, I rush up to him and swing my leg up to his middle, hitting my target right between the legs.

“Run!” I yell. With one down we should be okay.

The boy gets off of the blonde and runs to me, taking my hand and leading me into the forest. I don't know where he's taking me, but if I saved him that means he won't hurt me, right?

We slow to a cave entrance. He turns to me, but doesn’t say anything.

“Are you okay?” I ask him, noticing the cut under his eye. He nods, still not saying a word. “Those boys are assholes,” I cover my mouth at the bad word. “Sorry, but it’s true,” he laughs at me. I can’t believe he’s laughing at me after I saved his life. Then, I find myself laughing with him and it’s strange.

He gestures for me to follow him deeper in the forest.

We find a spot where he finally kneels on the ground and I follow.

“Do they usually pick on you?” I ask. He nods slowly and moves his sleeve to show scars and fresh cuts on his shoulder. I make the note in my mind that next time I’ll bring something to help heal those.

His hands work and kneed in the grass and grabs a few flowers that are scattered in different places. I see a bug on the trunk of the tree, my eyes trailing up the tree trunk that it travels. Where is it going to go?

A tap on my shoulder takes my attention away. I look down at the boy holding a small bracelet in his hands. He holds it to me, and I take it, trying not to break it. The little flowers spread throughout it tickle my hand.

“For me?” I ask and he nods his head.

“It’s to say ‘Thank You’,” my heart is surprised when I finally hear his voice.

“Hey. You wanna be my friend? I don’t have any,” I say.

His head moves so fast up and down. Finally! I found someone who likes me!

***

“You. . .” I whisper to him, his heavy eyelids covering his eyes staring back at me.

“Me,” he looks at the bracelet sitting in the palm of his hand. I’m grateful he’s distracted while I process the new revelations.

I push up from the ground and head for the exit, quickly stepping out into the rain.

“Y/N? Y/N!” he calls from behind me. I ignore him and try to keep my tears at bay. “Stop!” he yells. I hate that I do as he says, as if I’m his dog. He steps in front of me, and I turn away. “What’s wrong? Did I say something?” He tries to make eye contact with me and when I refuse, he uses a finger on my chin, the touch heating my face.

“You can try to remind me of the good memories, Jungkook, but don’t forget those good times lasted for a week and you left,” I try to tame the way my voice is breaking. “You were my first friend and then you disappeared. I thought I was cursed for months!” a tear rolls down my cheek. He blinks. Once. Twice. “I get it. That was a long time ago and maybe it didn’t matter to you, but it does to me,” he shakes his head.

“Of course it matters, Y/N. You were my only friend and-”

“Then why did you leave me? Why didn’t you say anything? I risked so much going into the woods to find you.” Scenes of 10 year-old me play out in my head - screaming for Jungkook to come back until my throat itched, poisoning and rashes running down my legs.

“It was going to be my first time in the pool,” his voice is low, “I wasn’t ready, but my mother was dying. Your very precious town was sending search parties to hunt us down. She couldn’t protect herself or me anymore, so I had to do it. I didn’t want to scare you,” his hand lowers back to his side and he takes a deep breath. “I was going through weeks of training myself and when my mom died and I got a hold of it, I went to try and find you, but I wasn’t finding you and it was too risky,” he explains.

My heart cracks at the mention of his mother. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, but he only had her.

“You should have told me. . .”

“I wanted to. Trust me, Y/N. I did. But I wanted to figure out everything first before I jumped into it with you. I was also a kid at the time too. I didn’t have someone to guide me. Everyone hated me without being a beast. Could you imagine my fear of what would happen if they found out I am one? Especially with all the rumors and stories going around?” he argues. It’s a solid explanation. This was a long time ago and we were children. “When I saw you again and recognized that it was you, something I wanted more than anything, is for you not to be afraid of me. Your opinion, after a week, was the most important to me.”

Tears start to well up again.

“Just like your opinion is most important to me now,” he whispers, stepping closer. I swallow the lump in my throat. His hair sticks to the sides of his head, some strands covering his eyes that are looking down at me. Goosebumps spread up and down my arms as heat bubbles in my stomach.

“If you’re lying-”

“Don’t even think that,” he takes another step closer. I gasp when his hand wraps around my waist and pulls me to him, our chests touching and my hands resting on his arms. My thoughts are a jumbled mess and all I can ask is how this escalated so quickly. “Don’t go this time. I know I always tell you to leave, but I’m telling you to stay now.”

My eyes blink and I’d like to blame it on the raindrops falling into my eyes, but I’m afraid to admit it’s because of how flustered I am at the stare he’s giving me.

“And where do you get off on telling me what to do?”

“Can I be honest?”

“I’d like it if you were.”

“I think you like it when I tell you what to do.” It’s not the words I was expecting, but I don’t dislike it either. It’s also not false. “Do you want me, Y/N?” he whispers on my lips. “Tell me.”

“Yes,” I say it a bit too quickly.

Just when I think he’s going to plant his lips on mine, he instead asks, “Why?” The question is not hard to answer, but it is one that is difficult to say.

“You’re the only person who makes me feel wanted in return,” I tell him. It’s honest and a much better answer than ‘You’re really hot’. “I don’t want to lose you, Jungkook,” I admit. “So, if you’re going to leave again you might as well-”

His soft lips interrupt me - finally!

A list of things I could be doing right now scrolls through my mind, yet none of them seem as important or as enticing as this is. If I could describe what this kiss is like, I don’t think that I could. No one has kissed me like this in the past. Nothing in the world can compare to the way that he holds me tightly against him, massaging the skin on my waist, while our mouths move in sync and rainwater mixes in with our saliva.

His hands place pressure on hips and I respond by moving backward until I hit a tree. Now that I have back support, his lips push into me harder and I whimper into his mouth. He responds with a moan that runs straight to my core.

We separate, breathing into each other.

“It’s raining,” I say, my clothing completely stuck to me by now.

“It’s not gonna stop me, but tell me if it’s going to stop you,” he brushes a hair away from my face and that’s when I can’t wait anymore. I want him too much to stop now, so I shake my head in answer.

“I don’t want anything else to stop us,” I hook my fingers into his loose pants and bring him closer. The corner of his lips tilt up and his fingers crawl on the side of my neck before pulling me closer to him.

The only thing I can pray for is that there are no more men who have decided to take on Jungkook and are still lurking in the forest, but that seems to be the last thing on his mind when he grinds into me. I moan into his mouth and he swallows it before leaning down to kiss my neck. I arch into him as he gets lower at the same time tickling the skin under my shirt as he lifts it up and over my head.

The rain is cold on me, but it’s worth it when his eyes stay on my perky nipples.

“I-” he gulps. Not so mouthy now.

“You can touch me, if you want,” I hate the way I sound so eager. I thought I would be able to play it cool, similar to the time I first lost my virginity (with a complete douchebag), but Jungkook makes me too nervous to ‘play it cool’. The way his eyes darken when he scans every inch of me, and the way he looks ready to devour me does the opposite of calming me down.

I can only pray to any force out there that I make him feel the way he makes me feel.

“I’ll do more than touch,” the palm of his hand skims the side of my breast, and he leans in. “I’ll do anything to show you you’re mine,” he whispers into my ear. The adrenaline is almost too much - I’m aching for him.

“Then show me what it’s like to be yours,” I whisper back.

He doesn’t look at me, his eyes stay on my lips for a few moments, then he moves down, taking one tit into his mouth leaving me breathless. His fingers tweak the other one, occasionally switching.

“Jungkook- ah!” I gasp. He presses and gropes, then instant repeats. His skin is touching mine in every spot while his tongue continues its ministrations on my chest. I grab onto his hair in case I faint and lean my head onto the tree. The worry of getting bugs on me disappears when he nibbles on my skin.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he sighs when coming back up. His fingers slide into my pants, and push into the space between my legs. I don’t expect it and cry into his mouth. “I don’t want to rush, bunny, but I can tell you’re as desperate as I am.”

I want to argue that I’m not, but it would be a lie. And it’s hard to argue with his fingers pumping in and out of me. He starts to kiss on my neck while his thumb joins in rubbing my clit. I feel a tension building in my stomach, then the knot unties and I release onto his hand.

I’m still on my high when his fingers slip out and he licks them clean. I watch him and I’m prepared to do anything for this man. He already looks fucked out and I haven’t done anything to him. His hair is a mess but it’s a result of the rain mixed with my fingers moving it every which way.

“Now I know you’re ready,” he pants. His pants fall to the ground, revealing the hard-on standing up. It isn’t fair that even his cock is perfect too.

His eyes fall to my pants.

“Can I. . . ?” he asks. I nod, slow.

His hands are gentle as he peels my pants down my legs. I’m suddenly self-conscious when they come down, afraid of him spotting any hair or any marks but if he notices them, he doesn’t bring them up.

“I’ve been thinking about this the past few days. How I’ll make you mine, how I’ll make you scream for me, how I’ll take care of you every day after. . .” He rambles before putting his lips on me again, the kiss frantic and wild, our tongues mixing all while pulling me closer, his hands move to my bare ass. “Jump,” he whispers, and I follow his instruction.

My back hits the tree and our centers touch, bare skin to bare skin. It’s almost overwhelming. I feel as if I’m going to fall, but he makes it look so easy holding me. My heart grows ten times.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He draws me out of my head with a curious glance. I shrug, not really knowing how to explain it, but he still doesn’t move, waiting. “Are you regretting this?”

I hit him on the shoulder. “How could you say that when I’m still here and fully naked mind you!”

“Then what was that look?”

“I just . . .” I pause. It’s nerve-wracking to be vulnerable in front of him. I’m already naked physically, but to be emotionally naked is different. “I keep thinking about how perfect you are.” There’s a surprise written all over his face. “Don’t think for a second I would regret this, even if we are in the middle of a downpour,” I instruct.

A small smile appears on his face.

“You’re perfect for me,” he plants a kiss on my lips before he turns his attention down to adjust himself. He slides into me slowly and a whimper leaves my throat. His hand soothes me, massaging the skin on my butt.

His head falls onto my shoulder, and we stay like that for a few moments as he inches in.

When he starts to move, I already feel the tree scratching my bare back, but I don’t mind the pain with pleasure.

Every part of the front of me slides against him and the rest of my body feels sticky from the humidity. It’s messy, but I can’t imagine this any other way.

His breathing grows heavy as he thrusts into me. His jaw is clenched as he lifts me up and down.

“You’re beautiful. I wish you could see what I’m seeing,” he breathes. “Y/N, oh God, Y/N,” he groans. His words set off a spark in me bigger than before. It’s good to know that even when I’m naked, sticky, messy, he can still see me as beautiful. “I should’ve kept those guys alive and let them watch,” his tone is different now. “I should have let them watch what they couldn’t have.”

“Jungkook, pelase -”

He balances me on one arm, using the other to hold the side of my head while he kisses me.

“I’m almost- oh gosh,” I cry, but before I can jump over the edge he slides out of me. “Jungkook? What are you-?”

I hold onto him when he moves and puts me onto the wet dirt. It’s cold and slushy at first, then warms up at the same time Jungkook hovers over me.

“This is how I always dreamt about you with me,” he says, and slides into me again, my heels locking around his waist and on his back. His body weight rests on me as he moves again and his head falls into my neck.

It doesn’t take long to get me right back to the edge, and from the way his thrusts are getting messier, he’s going to meet me there.

“Jungkook!” I cry as I spill onto him and he does the same.

I notice it’s not raining anymore when all the noise and movement stops.We lay there for a few moments in the quiet after he slides out of me, however, his weight is still resting on me.

“Is your penis gone when you turn into a beast?” I ask, killing the silence. He laughs into my shoulder then lifts his head.

“Why? Do you wanna fuck him too?” he suggests. I smack his shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. I know dragging a beast the same weight of a tree was not the easiest. You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had to,” I argue. “You’ve saved me more than once now. The least I could do was try one time.”

“You helped me twice, actually,” he says. I’m back to when we were kids.

“And there might be many more times after this,” I put a hand on his cheek.

“And I’ll save you each,” he plants a kiss on my lips, “and every,” another kiss, “time,” a more passionate one. We stay naked on that floor for hours, looking up into the trees, wondering what life or death situation we’ll have to save each other from tomorrow.

#bts #bts imagines #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook imagines #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook bts #jungkook smut

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dollypopup · 6 months ago

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"Colin had no trauma related to love and self worth like Anthony. Anthony watched his father die, watched his mum turn into a ghost of a person, and didn't want that for his wife"

Bestie. . .they have. . .the same dad???? They have the same mum???? Literally all of the Bridgerton children except Hyacinth watched Edmund die? They all experienced Violet's immense sorrow? He and Violet obviously have a very close connection and so of course he saw her wilting (plant pun, if you were wondering) or at least knew about it and has responded with being particularly gentle with her?

Trauma shaped all the Bridgertons. Colin was a young boy when his dad passed and everyone in the family experienced an immense grief and, unlike his brothers, Colin was twelve, he wasn't the heir, he wasn't the spare, and had no responsibility but to go to school (sent off elsewhere after his dad passed away, thus disconnected from his circle of support and family) and figure out how to be a man from strangers and rakes. Literally no one had space for his grief and sensitivity? He even cries alone in his bedroom in Season 1 and stops talking about his travels after he gets made fun of in Season 2 and claims that hardly anyone replied to his letters in Season 3 like what do you mean he has no trauma related to love?

Colin was right there on the steps watching his father cradled in his mother's arms as she wept over his sudden passing. Of course he has trauma related to love? Colin's entire arc was about how he only felt he could be cared about if he was pleasing the people around him or being useful in some way and putting on a mask and a persona so he wouldn't be hurt by how much no one else wanted the real, messy, authentic him around? His mum and dad lived a love story and Colin watched it fall to pieces just as all the Bridgertons did, he just internalized it differently. His entire family was grieving so he decided to be useful by offering levity where he could, especially as the brother raised predominately with his sisters, Eloise and Daphne.

And yet despite the fact that this was such a huge tragedy of his childhood, Colin still is incredibly emotionally available and as soon as he realized what he felt for Penelope was romantic, he takes initiative and he cuts into her dance with Debling and he chases after her carriage so he can confess that he can't stop thinking about her and he's not at all angry at her, she doesn't vex him, it isn't frustration at her- it's torture because he is so damn besotted with her that he dreams of her and the kiss they shared haunts him but it's torture he embraces because he's a romantic soul who is incredibly emotionally brave and he cares about Penelope more than he cares about his ego or image or past hurts.

Give my man his flowers.

#colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton #polin #i stan 1 (one) man #sorry i saw this and. . .y'all bonkers #out here acting like they're literally not the same family? like what????.

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ashfae · 1 year ago

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The thing about romance is, it makes a good story.

As soon as Neil described season 2 as "quiet, gentle, romantic" I figured we'd be in for it, because as he's the first to point out, writers are liars. And the best way to deceive is with truth.

Season 2 is romantic. The trappings of romance are everywhere. Crowley tries to set up Nina and Maggie by trapping them under an awning during a rainstorm, a classic cinematic bonding technique. Aziraphale's chosen method comes from his beloved books: the ball, the dancing, appearing as a pair in public, hands held as you twirl gracefully with your heart thrilled and racing. If they can set up a sensational kiss that will unlock the happy ever after. They've lived on earth, they've studied the tropes, they know how romance works.

The problem is a story is only a story.

Nina and Maggie had the classic romantic setup completely by accident before Aziraphale and Crowley ever began trying to interfere with them. They get locked in Nina's coffeeshop. They can't escape or communicate with anyone else, they end up talking by candlelight because there's no electricity, Nina offers wine. Maggie mentions how she'd hoped for a chance to talk to Nina, and now here they are. It's every bit as much a standard as what Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to arrange. Blanket scenarios galore exist because of that starting point. We love that story. And there's nothing wrong with that.

But it's still only a story, it's not enough. Because once that moment of connection is over, however lovely it was, all the rest of the world comes flooding back in in the form of dozens of angry text messages. Nina's messy entrapping relationship hasn't magically gone away just because she and Maggie shared a romantic encounter.

And it's so tempting think oh well, that's easy. We'll just give them more romantic encounters and eventually those will overwhelm the rest of the baggage. Must do, because it'll make them fall in love, and once they realize they're in love that trumps all other considerations, right? So it'll be fine. Love Conquers All.

Neil also mentioned Pride and Prejudice.

Darcy knows he's in love early on and makes a disasterous proposal that shows that he has no understanding of Elizabeth's perspective, possibly hasn't even thought about it. They've been meeting in forest lanes for walks, conversing, had tete-a-tetes in the sitting room, danced at a ball. And while his turn of phrase isn't as flattering as he thinks, he's still offering her everything he thinks she wants and needs: affection, security, his good name, wealth, an escape from the embarrassments of her situation, the world. How can there be anything to object to? Why would anyone ever refuse so much of value?

Elizabeth quite rightly cuts him to pieces. He lashes back with a few hard truths of his own and they separate. During that separation, he thinks and he learns. He takes to heart the criticisms she offered, re-examines his assumptions, opens his eyes. Thinks about her perspective and how sometimes the only difference between pride and arrogance is where you're standing. He does the work. When they meet again he tries to demonstrate that he's learned--not in order to court her again (yet), but because the only real apology he can offer, the only one that would have weight, is to show that he's grown, he listened to her. He changed.

Elizabeth of course has her own journey, accepting that many of her own conclusions about Darcy were erroneous because they were formed without her having the full picture to hand, and once she's done that she has to apply it to her own situation as well. She loves her family, but they do place her at a disadvantage on a number of levels, leading eventually to full-out disaster as her younger sister carelessly ruins all of their reputations. It's hard to admit, it's mortifying, but Darcy was offering her a great deal she needs. His offer did have worth for all that she dismissed it as an insult. And as she learns to value his own character more highly, and then as she sees that he did listen to her even though she insulted him so thoroughly...well, she grows too. And when they do eventually come together it's not because of courting and balls. There's a big romantic gesture in his rescue of her sister but even that isn't why they'll get their happy ever after. It was just the catalyst for the conversation. They win because they've learned how to understand each other and how to communicate for the future. How they can strengthen and support each other, how to balance their strengths and weaknesses. The films leave them at the wedding, but the book shows a bit of their marriage too, and during it they keep learning from each other. Their relationship is held up as a superior love story for good reasons.

The end of season one was romantic too. Crowley stopped time rather than face a world where Aziraphale would never speak to him again, Aziraphale walked into hell to protect Crowley, they dined at the Ritz and toasted the world. But then they stopped. Sure they spent time together, talked, enjoyed each other's company. But if they were talking about important things would Crowley still be living in his car? They had a bit of respite but all that real world baggage that exists outside of the romantic moment hasn't been faced, none of it. Four or five years sounds like a long while but for beings who are quite literally older than the earth? That's just an intermission.

Nina's relationship ends, leaving her with a tangled mess; Maggie realises the sweet dream of love she's been longing for isn't as important as the real Nina. They talk. They plan. Nina will sort through her life, get closure, figure out what went wrong with Lindsay and what she wants from a relationship, learn how to ask for respect instead of just bending under her partner's demands. Maggie will support Nina the way Nina needs, which sometimes means helping her get oat milk for the shop and sometimes means giving her processing space. They're on the same page; they're going to do the work. That's why most likely they'll succeed. To quote one of my favourite fanfics: it's not happily ever after, but it's a chance. It's all going to be okay. (The Profane Comedy by Mussimm, who absolutely nailed this theme)

The romance is nice, it's lovely. We need it to keep ourselves going. To give ourselves the dreams that help us get through the days and nights. But it's not the relationship. It's not enough on its own. The wedding can be the grandest most beautiful ceremony ever with doves flying and sweeping music and bells ringing, but that doesn't guarantee the marriage will last.

Crowley and Aziraphale have had their romantic gestures, oodles of them. One wing raised to protect the other from falling stars, another from rain. Shared ground, shared interests, hands offered in friendship and held on a bus. They've tried to get to the same page, they really have. They just aren't there yet. The biggest most important things still haven't been talked about, and season 2 showed there are even more of those big important things than we'd realised.

The show paints Maggie as Aziraphale's foil and Nina as Crowley's, even to the point of Nina casually calling Maggie 'angel'. But Aziraphale's baggage is Nina's. The toxic relationship has to be processed and understood and closed, and it hasn't been, despite season one. Lindsay never really liked Nina very much, for all that they tried to keep her trapped; Heaven never really liked Aziraphale very much for all that he believed in it. They both let themselves be used. But Lindsay left Nina and went to their sister's, whereas now the head of Heaven has reached out to Aziraphale and said here, we can fix this, you can fix this, don't you want to fix this? Others are already writing about that and maybe I'll add to it later, not sure. And Crowley, like Maggie, has had a sweet dream that he has to set aside. Maybe he'll be able to pick it up again eventually, maybe not. But sometimes you offer support by buying oat milk or rescuing your beloved from the legions of hell, and sometimes you do it by standing back while they sort through their shit.

Quiet, gentle, romantic. It was.

But that's only part of the story. Now they have to do the work. They thought they had, but they were wrong, because there's so much they just hadn't touched yet and tried to cover over with relief and sleight of hand and alcohol and forgiveness. The apology dance doesn't mean much without showing that you listened and learned. They've faced so much trauma already and that should have been enough, we wanted it to be enough and so did they and it's such a blow for it to turn out that there's still more to do, that the baggage hasn't just gone away and can't be hidden under blankets or soothed with cocoa. The texts are still coming in and demanding answers.

But it'll be okay. It will. It's still a chance. And one that in the long run makes them better, builds something real that lasts.

The best stories, the ones that last longest and become classics, are the ones that don't end with the kiss under the awning or the blanket scenario or the wedding. They're the ones that heal us while the characters heal themselves. It's hard to accept that there's still more to do. Harder to imagine how it can possibly work out. And yes, bloody frustrating to wait and see.

And we'll get through that interim by telling even more stories. Because the story is never just a story. It's how we get through the work, it's what we tell ourselves so we can do the damn work. Stories are what we cling to and how we remind ourselves we're human and connect. A book is a person you can carry with you. We're not alone, none of us, stories connect us because we love them and see ourselves in them, which means we see each other.

Aziraphale's back up in Heaven to deal with his unfinished baggage; Crowley left his behind long ago and it's clearly going to come back and bite him in the arse however much he tries to go his own way. And they can't help each other with that. Not yet.

But they'll get there. So will we.

#good omens #good omens season 2 #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #nina #maggie #nina and maggie #stories #romance #relationships #am I projecting here #of course I am isn't that the whole point?#pride and prejudice #elizabeth and darcy #quiet gentle romantic #good omens meta

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