#but lonely little children who just want to be loved make me cry like nothing else

[shikai-the-storyteller]

I like to imagine that, after Pepito goes to sleep, Tilin's spirit visits him in his dreams. She kisses him on the forehead and tells him happy birthday and reassures him that his parents love him, and when he asks how she could know that, Tilin just says: "Because we share a dad, and I know he loves me too."

[venusbyline]

Bleeding ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 20, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Alicent Hightower x lady in waiting!reader

— type: smut, angst, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: period sex + blood kink

— summary: Alicent did not want to be Queen Consort. She did not want to be King Viserys's second wife. She did not want to be Aegon II's mother. Alicent Hightower just wanted to love girls.

— word count: 2k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 20th day, female!reader, young!Alicent, period sex, blood kink, light dubcon, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, rough sex, tribadism/scissoring, argument, nipple play, underage sex, light unconscious sex, mild hurt/comfort, mild angst, lactation kink, breastfeeding, light dumbification, overstimulation, degradation, choking, family issues, crying, dacryphilia, sexism, curse words, implied/referenced cheating, breast worship, religious guilt, sexuality crisis, aftercare, love triangle (Alicent Hightower x reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen), motherhood themes, mommy kink, Aegon Targaryen II mentioned, minor Alicent Hightower x Viserys Targaryen, minor Alicent Hightower x Rhaenyra Targaryen, minor Gwayne Hightower x reader, ambiguous/open ending, lesbian!Alicent, bisexual!reader, sub!Alicent, dom!reader, canon divergence, porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @turdettethefirst

— crossposting: AO3

Ever since Alicent had given birth to Aegon, she had grown distant from her best friend, Rhaenyra, and had become more lonely. Rhaenyra did not like Aegon because he reminded her of the male children her father had lost, he reminded her of her mother's brutal death during childbirth.

Sometimes, not even Alicent herself liked her son. Every time she looked at those violet eyes, the rosy cheeks and the silver hair, she was reminded of King Viserys. How he had fucked her tight cunt without even worrying about her pleasure. How she had kept her eyes open throughout the entire act, hoping it would end soon so she could distance herself from the older man's sweaty body and return to her own chambers.

Looking at the little boy made Alicent think about how their fates were set forever. She would just be a brood mare until Viserys no longer had the strength to keep fucking her. And Aegon would be just a lamb in the midst of all that chaos from Targaryen family. An heir, or not. A king, or not. Perhaps just a stupid adult with stupid kids in the future. Just as she probably would be too.

She was so afraid that Aegon would stop being a cute baby and become an evil man. This happened to most men. Their mothers gave birth to them with so much love and they were destined to die little by little watching their boys' development, each maternal disappointment being like daggers inside their hearts and inside their wombs, who had bled so much to bring their children into the world.

Alicent could even picture Aegon in his future, visiting brothels, masturbating like a dog in heat, making bastards in the streets, being a shame not only for the Targaryen family, but mainly for Alicent, his own mother. She wanted to put him back in her womb and stop him from anything evil he could do or be.

"Your Grace, did you call me?" Your voice discreetly entering the Queen's private chambers, avoiding looking at her figure under the sheets. It was nothing you had not seen. You had helped her during Aegon's birth, but you also knew her body for other reasons. You were her lady-in-waiting since her childhood, always close to her despite being a few years older. Otto Hightower had entrusted his daughter's good reputation to you since the three of you moved to King's Landing before her and the King's marriage. You did your tasks splendidly, too perfectly.

Especially into her bed.

"I thought you would not come, love..." Alicent murmured with a more fragile way than she intended and you tried hard not to show any pitying face. You were still angry about your last argument.

"You call me, I come. It is always like that, is not it?" Your passive-aggressive accusation made her swallow hard with shame and self-loathing. She was not the best person to deal with feelings. Ever since her marriage to Viserys, Alicent had been confused. About her faith. About her sins. About her extramarital desires. About Rhaenyra. About you. Especially about you two.

Gods, she wanted both of you so much that sometimes it hurts. Alicent wanted not to be married to the King, she wanted not to have a child, she wanted to be free. She wanted to be a man.

The young redhead fiddled with her fingers for a few moments, sitting on the bed and still covered by the silk sheet. She wanted to apologize for the argument, to say that she would try to talk less about her chaotic friendship or situationship with Rhaenyra. However, she knew that none of this would help. You were angry by her past confession about sleep with Rhaenyra a few times before her marriage to the King. You thought you were special to her. You really thought you were the only one, since Viserys Targaryen was just a puppet in Otto's hands. The affair with her was special. Or at least it should be.

You sighed after her long silence, seeing how Alicent looked away, choosing to look at any part of the chambers that was already so well known to her. "Why did not you call your friend Rhaenyra?" Your mockery tone did not go unnoticed and she flinched.

"I am... Bleeding. Rhaenyra does not like licking my vaginal blood." She said embarrassed. You knew what that meant. Alicent always hated admitting how turned on she was when those days came. The days she was sure she was not pregnant again. It was a mix of relief and arousal. She was so sensitive, so fucking needy...

But this time, you did not lower yourself between her thighs. This time, you looked at her with a cold gaze. So cold that she did not think even the strongest Dracarys from any Targaryen could melt.

"Then you want me to lick all your pretty little cunt to ease your pain and arousal, just because the princess is disgusted by that?" You questioned without a hint of affection that was always there, tearing your light blue dress with gold details with an almost animalistic speed. Now there was only resentment that she was reaping due to her own actions.

Alicent's already big eyes widened, pink lips parted with complete shock, as if you had said the most perverse thing that could come out of a girl's lips. "A-are you insane? Mind your tongue and do not dare to use that kind of language with me!" She tried to growl, to look intimidating. Tried to look like a Targaryen. Tried to sound like Rhaenyra.

But she was not a Targaryen. She was Alicent. Alicent Hightower. The ambitious teenager who spent hours inside the Septs, kneeling in front of some statue. She was also Alicent Hightower, the teenager who begged the Gods for forgiveness and mercy every time she pictured her best friend and current stepdaughter rubbing the wet core with some silver hairs on her lips, while you, her lady-in-waiting, would eat her out until she squirt all over your face.

This thought had appeared in Alicent's mind so many times that she had already surrendered, fucking her fingers inside herself under the sheets several nights. Like a true pathetic whore.

"You have no right to treat me as if you were just my Queen." It was your turn to growl, lower but much more intimidating, checking if the door was really locked before walking towards Alicent's bed with long strides, not caring about her wide eyes as you pulled the sheets away from her body, revealing the semi-transparent nightgown that highlighted the curves acquired since Aegon's pregnancy.

"BUT I AM YOUR QUEEN!" Alicent yelled, trying to deprive your of her dignity, but it was too late. You had seen the dry crimson stain on her fingers, causing you to laugh instantly.

"You are nothing but a spoiled greedy whore. That is what you are." The whisper filled with sarcasm made Alicent curl up even more into the pillow. "How long have you been trying to fuck your disgusting needy hole without even being able to cum?"

Your question went unanswered and you finally snapped, losing your patience and grabbing her neck, pushing her further onto the bed as you climbed onto the bed while you climbing on top of her vulnerable body. "Answer me, Your Grace!"

However, now your plea sounded more desperate and hurt than angry. She could see how your eyes were full of tears and how you were trying your best to fight them off. You hated feeling so hungry for Alicent. She should be your responsibility, nothing more than that. You should not care if she was thinking about Rhaenyra or not, as long as she did not tarnish the reputation of House Hightower or Viserys' reign. "SEVEN HELLS, ALICENT! ANSWER ME RIGHT NOW!"

"Over an hour ago, love. I was thinking about you two, you and Nyra..." Alicent sobbed after your shout, tears streaming down her soft cheeks as well, slightly losing consciousness for a few seconds from crying so much. She did not realize what you were doing with her body until you arched your head back, a strangled moan escaping your lips with pleasure and agony. It was then that she felt a different wetness rubbing against hers. It was not just your juices. It was... It was blood. Just like hers. It was the blood from your cunt mixing with her blood.

"O-oh, Gods. You are bleeding too..." Alicent whimpered, trying to move so she could keep up with the rhythm and give you even more pleasure, but your hands that kept her legs open stopped her. She moaned, looking at you with big sad eyes, which you ignored without any mercy, your gaze focused on the way your blood-stained cunts met each other, swollen clits pulsing against each other.

If it had been before, Alicent would have found it disgusting. She would find it disgusting how you started squeezing her breast when you increased the speed of your hips. Her breasts was still so large and heavy with Aegon's milk, she had created more curves and unfortunately some stretch marks, and you loved every part of all of this, playing with her nipple and smirking between moans when some milk flowed out.

She should find repulsive the way her own milk ran down her belly, some spots reaching the place where the two of you fit. You raised an eyebrow despite the haze of pleasure, as if you were asking permission for something. Instead of answering, Alicent also pressed her own breast, her hand now wet with breast milk, before she reached for both cunts, rubbing yours and then hers, getting them more overstimulated so you could move with more easily.

It was a disgusting mess. The gooey sounds, the blood and milk mixed on your buds, the way her nipple was still dripping. You were the first to cum, biting your lip until blood came out, avoiding moaning the Queen's name too loudly. Your cunt spasmed until your legs shook, your body falling on top of Alicent and the sight of your intense climax made her reach the release too. Even knowing the possible consequences, Alicent did not hold back. She moaned your name like a whore. Like the cheapest prostitute in the brothels on Street of Silk. Like the women that all the Targaryens fucked hidden from their wives. Like the women her firstborn and perhaps her next sons would fuck in the future. Like her future daughter would moan around some man's cock, if one day she had the divine blessing of giving birth to a little girl to try to protect her from all the evil in Westeros.

Alicent caressed your cheeks, grateful that you did not mind the mixture of blood, juices and breast milk that stained your face as she gave you affection, pulling your soft mouth close to her left nipple so that you could be breastfed like a baby. Her baby. You did not know what to say, you were too overwhelmed by the situation. Every argument with Alicent Hightower ended like this, feeding you as if you were a little orphan child and she a childless mother or a widowed wife. A widowed Queen.

"I wish we could be happy, love..." Alicent whispered with some melancholy, placing a kiss on your forehead and letting a tear escape. "B-but... But I hope my brother Gwayne will be a good husband to you. The husband you deserve. The husband I cannot be to you or to Nyra." You did not answer, nodding weakly and looking at your betrothal ring with the perfect green jewel on top. You did not want Gwayne Hightower. You did not want Alicent Hightower to be a man. You just wanted Alicent the way she was. A girl. Your girl. You wanted Alicent Hightower to be your wife. And she wanted that too.

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

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Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[topguncortez]

Are You With Me? | | Chapter 2

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: Jake and Y/N sit down for an appointment about Ella's illness. Jake has his reservations about Miles being Ella's doctor.

word count: 2.9k

warnings: medical inaccuracies, childhood cancer, mentions of cheating, physical violence, trauma flashback, fighting, cursing

“How could you do this to us!” The shattering sound of glass filled the air, making everything around them go silent, “You bastard! I loved you! Why did you do this!” 

She couldn’t see the little boy cowered behind the wall. His pajamas pants were soaked as he stood there watching the fight in the kitchen. He clutched his dinosaur blanket in his hands as he watched his mother fall to her knees in a heap of tears. His father just stood there, with his head hung low, guilt aching in his body. 

“Did our vows mean nothing to you?” 

“They mean everything to me,” He whispered out. She snapped her head up to look at him. 

“But you slept with that whore! All this time while I was raising our children you were fucking some other woman!” He looked away from her, not being able to stand seeing the pain in her eyes anymore, “Look at me, George!” 

He turned his head back towards her, “It meant nothing.” 

The woman let out a laugh as she stood up from her knees. She shook her head as her hand curled around another glass mug, “It meant nothing. . . Did this mean nothing!?” She threw the mug again at the wall. The little boy jumped, covering his ears from the sound, “I’m leaving.” 

“What?” George asked, his eyes growing frantic as she quickly moved through the kitchen, grabbing her purse and coat, “No. Jolene, let’s work this out.” 

“I can’t,” She shook her head, going towards the built in desk. She grabbed a stack of blank checks, stuffing them in her purse, “I can’t stand to look at you. I’m leaving.” 

“No, Jolene, lets-” 

“I am done!” Jolene yelled as she opened the door to the garage and slammed it shut. George closed his eyes and hung his head as the familiar sound of her car started up. 

The sound of crying broke George from his stupour. His eyebrows furrowed as he looked over at the wall where the source of the crying was. He slowly made his way over towards the crying, catching the little boy who stood there with wet pajama pants and his dinosaur blanket, tears running down his cheeks. 

He clenched his jaw, “What are you doing up, Jake?” 

The little boy lifted his head and looked at his father, “I-I need momma. I-I had an accident.”  

George shook his head, and brushed past the boy, “Go to bed.” 

— — — 

TWO YEARS AGO: 

Jake shouldn’t be here. 

In fact, he should be anywhere but here. He never wanted his life to come to this, to be the lowly man sitting at a dumpy bar late at night. But he had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t go to the Hard Deck, Penny would call his wife. And he couldn’t go home to his wife either. 

It had only been a couple of weeks since they lost their baby, and the weeks had been hell. Y/N tried to plaster on a smile and act like everything was fine, but Jake knew that wasn’t true. He knew that when the house went quiet after the kids were at school, she sat in the empty bedroom that would be the nursery and cried. Every time Jake tried to comfort her, she would push him away, not wanting to be touched or coddled. Her newest unhealthy habit was taking pregnancy tests, to see if maybe, just maybe, the doctor got things wrong. 

“Another one?” The bartender asked, looking at Jake’s empty scotch glass. 

“He’ll have another one. And i’ll take the same.” Jake snapped his head towards the sound of a female voice, “I saw you lookin lonely and thought you’d need some company.” 

Jake nodded his head, clenching his jaw as the bartender set two fresh glasses filled with amber liquid. Jake didn’t even look at the girl as he finished his drink in one go. 

“Whoa slow down there, tiger,” She giggled, “Nights just getting started.” 

“Night is over,” Jake grumbled, slamming his glass down. He went to stand up when the female placed her hand on his arm to stop him. 

“I-I shouldn’t have done that but I just don’t… Look,” She sighed, running a hand across her forehead, “I’m coming off of a failed engagement and my friends told me to just get back out there and I-“ 

“Thought I was the right subject to test the theory?” Jake raised an eyebrow and the woman nodded her head, biting her lip, “Well I’m not. I’m married.” 

She frowned, looking at his hand, “I don’t see a ring.” 

“Don’t need to wear one to be married to someone,” Jake pulled his wallet out of his pocket, setting down a couple twenties to cover his tab and leave a hefty tip, “Word of advice, sweetheart, you want to meet a guy? Don’t find him in a bar.” 

“I’m sorry,” She her voice cracked, making Jake stop in his tracks. 

‘I should go home. I should go home.’ Jake thought in his head, as he turned over his shoulder, looking at the girl with tears in her eyes. She was clearly out of her element as she sat in the dark dingy bar, and Jake wasn’t liking the look Earl was giving her. He huffed a sigh, as he turned back towards his barstool. 

“One drink,” Jake ordered. The girl seemed to perk up a bit, wiping her tears and nodding in agreement, “I’m Jake, by the way.” 

“Cassie,” The blonde said, holding out her hand for Jake to shake. 

The conversation flowed easily between Jake and Cassie, and before either one of them knew it, one drink had turned into several. Cassie opened up about her failed engagement to her high school sweetheart who had knocked up her best friend. Cassie talked about growing up in a small town in Oregon, and how she had waited her whole life to get out and explore the world. 

“What about you?” Cassie asked, “I told you about my engagement, my family, my college threesome adventure. . . so what about you? What about your wife?” 

It was like cold water had been poured down Jake’s back at the mention of his wife, “Nothing to tell. Look,” Jake stood up again, “I really need to go this time. I’ll walk you out and call you a cab.” 

Cassie shook her head, “No, it’s okay,” She gave Jake a small smile, “Thanks for listening to me.” 

Jake smiled back at her, “No problem. Good night, Cassie.” 

Jake drove home in silence, the events of the night weighing heavily on his mind. He knew that he shouldn’t have stayed out that long, that he should’ve been home to help Y/N with dinner and putting the kids to bed. But being at home felt like his own personal hell. He could hardly find a place in the house that was quiet with a four year old and a two year old running around. Y/N might’ve liked the noise and the chaos, but Jake was a creature of habit and structure. Not all the time had to be fun and play time. 

When Jake pulled up to the house, he found it unsurprisingly dark. He quickly grabbed his stuff out of his truck, and walked as quietly as he could up the stairs. Jake checked on both of his kids, before going to his shared bedroom. Y/N’s sleeping frame was laid out in the middle of the bed, her face pushed into Jake’s pillow. His heart tugged a bit seeing her in her most vulnerable form. It seemed to be only when Y/N was asleep she was most at peace. 

As if she could sense his presence, Y/N stirred in bed, her eyes fluttering open to adjust to the darkness, “Jake?” 

“Shh,” Jake quieted her as he walked over to the side of the bed, “Sorry to wake you.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Y/N mumbled, turning over to face him, “You’re home late?” 

“Drinks at the Hard Deck,” The lie rolled off his tongue almost too easily. 

“Oh,” Y/N nodded her head, “Are you gonna shower?” Jake nodded his head. Y/N pushed herself up on her elbows looking at her husband, “Can I join you?” 

Jake swallowed, shaking his head, “Not tonight. Go back to bed.” 

Y/N felt her eyes burn with rejection as she laid back down in bed. She couldn’t even remember the last time she and Jake had been intimate. Sex wasn’t a huge part of their relationship, but it was an important part. Jake had never turned her down as much as he had in the past couple of weeks. Y/N had never been the type to worry about Jake and his attractiveness towards her, but now she was starting to grow concerned. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jake placed his hand on her cheek before leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead. 

“Jake,” Y/N called out to him, grabbing his hand before he could walk away, “You still love me, right?” 

Jake scoffed, “Of course I do, sweets. Where did that come from?” 

Y/N shook her head, pushing the tears back from her eyes, “Nothing. I just. . .I just feel a bit-” 

“Well stop it,” Jake said, his eyebrows furrowed, “I love you, alright. You’re the one for me. You always have been, always will be,” Y/N nodded her head, as Jake pressed another kiss to her forehead, “I’m going to shower. Go back to sleep, I’ll be out soon.” 

— — — 

PRESENT: 

“There’s a flower in my lungs?” Ella’s eyes were wide as she stared at Miles. 

It had been two months to the day since Y/N had woken up to Ella coughing up blood. It had six weeks of tests, doctors appointments, needles, tears, and anxiety, all for them to get the result that they didn’t want. Ella sat in the middle of Jake and Y/N, while Miles sat behind his desk and Val protectively in the corner. Jake had his reservations about Miles being one of Ella’s doctors but Y/N and Val assured him that he was the best. There was no one better to oversee Ella’s care but him. 

“How did it get in there?” Ella asked, “What is a lung?” 

Miles softly chuckled, as Y/N shook her head. Ella had been in surprisingly good spirits despite the constant needle pokes and doctor’s visit. She remained her curious self, asking about how the MRI machines worked and what they needed a tube of her blood for. When the appointments were over, Ella went home and played with Alex and Eli until it was dinner. She hadn’t missed a beat, which was refreshing for Y/N and Jake. 

“Your lungs,” Miles said, standing up and walking around his desk. He kneeled in front of Ella, a smile on his face as he talked to her, “Are right here,” He gently poked her sides, making her giggle, “They help you breathe. Remember when you come to the doctor in the middle of the night? And you were having trouble getting air?” Ella nodded her head, a sad look growing on her face, “Well, it’s because this flower is in your lungs, and it’s not supposed to be there.” 

“It’s making me sick?” Ella looked over at her dad. 

Jake nodded his head, putting his arm around her chair, “Yeah, babygirl, it is making you sick. But Doctor Miles here is going to make you all better.” 

“Will it hurt?”  

Miles looked at Y/N and Jake before proceeding, “It won’t be fun. We have to give you some medicine, and do something called surgery to take the flower out.” 

Ella’s bottom lip wobbled as she looked back at Jake, “I don’t want it to hurt.” 

“I know baby,” Jake sighed, picking her up and setting her in his lap. She nuzzled her head into the crook of Jake’s neck, her tears hitting his skin, “It’ll be okay. It’ll only hurt for a little while, and then you’ll feel better.” 

“I don’t want it to hurt at all,” Ella sobbed, “Can’t you leave it in?” 

“No, Ella,” Y/N said, moving to sit next to Jake. She gently ran her hand up and down Ella’s back, “If we leave it in, you will get sicker. And nobody wants you to get sick.” 

Ella cried even harder, fully turning her face into Jake’s shoulder. Y/N closed her eyes, counting to ten in her head. While Ella was running around without a care in the world, Y/N had spent the last two months in tears. As soon as she and Jake put the kids down for bed, and Jake retreated to his new home; the loft above the garage, Y/N broke down in the solace of her bedroom. Her nose was rubbed raw from the constant use of tissues. Her eyes burned from crying. And her body felt weak from the exhaustion of being a mother and trying to wrap her head around Ella’s diagnosis. 

“I promise Ella,” Miles spoke softly, “I will make sure it doesn’t hurt. I will do all that I can.” 

Ella picked her head up from Jake’s chest, her little fist clenched his shirt in her hand, “You promise?” 

“I pinky promise,” Miles held out his pinky. Ella reached her hand out, and wrapped her small pinky around his. 

“Hey Bells,” Val said, pushing off of her corner spot, “How about we go look at the new babies?” 

Ella looked at her dad with wide eyes before she scurried down from his lap and to her aunt. It was moments like these that Y/N was grateful for Val. Her ability to read the room and know just what she needed at what time. Once Ella and Val were out of the room, Y/N couldn’t hold her tears back anymore. 

“I’m sorry,” She sniffled, “I just. . . I’m sorry.” 

“What’s there to be sorry about?” Miles asked, grabbing a box of tissues off his desk. 

Y/N grabbed several tissues and dabbed the tears off her cheeks. She was thankful that today of all days she decided on the waterproof mascara, “For this,” She gestured to herself, “For the tears. My daughter has cancer and I’m the one-” 

“You are allowed to cry,” Miles said, “This is scary and frightening. In fact, if you didn’t cry, I think I’d be concerned.” Y/N chuckled and shook her head, “There’s that smile.” 

Jake clenched his jaw, looking between Miles and his ex-wife. Y/N hadn’t shared all the details on why her and Miles didn’t work out, but it was clear to Jake that something still remained. He knew from Val that Miles was one of the best pediatric doctors on this side of the US, but that didn’t mean Jake trusted him. Jake didn’t trust him when Y/N was dating him, and he still didn’t trust him now that his daughter’s life was in his hands. 

“So,” Miles said, “We are going to get Ella started with her first rounds of chemotherapy. Because she’s a pediatric patient, it is our protocol that we keep them here during the chemo session.” 

“How long will that be?” Jake asked. 

“First session will be eight weeks. Twice a week. This cancer can be highly aggressive and the best way we can get ahead of it, is if we are highly aggressive. Now, I will be the lead doctor on Ella’s case, but we will also collaborate with the lead of Oncology, Doctor Thomas.” 

“He any good?” Y/N rolled her eyes at Jake’s question. Of course any doctor that worked at the UC San Diego had to be the best of the best. 

“She,” Miles corrected, “Is one of the best. I wouldn’t have her on Ella’s team if she wasn’t.” 

Y/N nodded, “Thank you, Miles. I’m gonna go see where Val took my child.” 

“No problem, Y/N. And if you need anything, seriously, don’t hesitate to call me.” Jake tried his hardest to not roll his eyes. The moment the door had shut, Jake straightened in his chair and stared down Miles, “Look, I know I’m not your favorite person.” 

“Not even by far.” 

Miles rolled his eyes, “I am here to make Ella feel better. You and I want to the same end goal, and I can’t do my job if you are constantly against me.” 

Jake scoffed, “Let’s make one thing clear,” He stood from his chair, “I am not your friend. I never have been and never will be. My wfie says you’re the best of the best, so I believe her. You better prove to me that you are the best of the best and make sure my little girl will live a long healthy life. We’ve already lost one baby and we sure as hell aren’t going to lose another one.” 

“I will do everything in my power to make sure Ella lives a long healthy life, Jake,” Miles said sincerely, “It is my promise to you.” 

“Good,” Jake nodded his head, “As long as you do your job and don’t let distractions dictate what you do. . . we won’t have a problem,” Jake flashed Miles his signature smirk, before turning around to face the door, “Have a good day.” 

“By the way,” Miles called out as Jake’s hand reached for the door knob, “She broke up with me because she’s still in love with you.” 

Jake felt his heart beat speed up in his chest as he opened the door and walked out without another word.

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[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Interviews for New Beginnings: Part 4

Alfie Solomons x Fem!Reader, 3.1k words

Warnings: talking about home fire, cursing, talking about trauma

A/N: Hi everyone! This chapter is a little different. It's more about developing our characters, understanding what exactly is going on, and setting it up for later events. I'm sorry if this isn't particularly exciting, but I feel like this was necessary for the storyline I'm going down? I don't know, if you guys have thoughts lemme know! As always, I love hanging out with you all on here. It is so much fun, and it's just a reprieve and joy. And if you're finding this for the first time hello!! If you want to catch the first parts just click the tags that say Interviews for New Beginnings, and itll all be there! I promise I'm going to make a masterlist! I just don't know how to hyperlink and it's stressing me out. Anyway I'm sorry I talk so much! Love you guys! - Mo

The tailor shop was not always your family’s tailor shop. When your mother and father first immigrated to Camden, it was the one shop that agreed to hire them. Mr. Kahn was the originator, an older gentleman with large round glasses, the most illustrious beard you’ve ever seen, and the most soothing voice. When he saw the the pitiful young couple that would one day be your parents, he not only opened the doors of his shop, but his arms and his heart and his home.

Your father had been a tailor by trade in his home country, and quickly picked up the new skills and tricks that Mr. Kahn had so generously gifted. Mr. Kahn had no children himself, and his whole family had to stay in his own country as well. Like two lonely ships at sea your parents and Mr. Kahn found each other, and built a a new family. He was there for the birth of you and Eli and your brother, and there for the arrival of your grandparents. And when he passed away, he gave the shop and the home above the shop to your family, his other family. In honor of Mr. Kahn, your father and uncle kept the name Kahn’s and Sons. Though people knew you weren’t the technical Kahn Sons, everyone gave their regards to the beautiful picture of Mr. Kahn that hung in the front. His bright and shining smile and twinkling eyes kept watch over the shop, your family, and anyone who crossed the threshold. Anyone who looked at the painting smiled, remembering his gentle voice and his grand laughter.

That painting is the only thing that survives the flames.

As the sky turns a pale white, all that can be heard above the shocked voice and the rises smoke are the screams and wails of your mother, screaming and asking God why why why? Your aunt and grandmother holding her and weeping as well, praying and begging for an answer. You sister Esther on your hip keeps whispering, “What happened? What happened to our store sissy?”

And you have no answer. You have nothing in your chest but a numb buzzing, and acid in your throat. You feel hot hot tears making canyons in the ash that covers your face. You see Eli, your father, uncle, brother, grandfather, and other neighbors trying to move out any molten machines from the wreckage. When you make eye contact with Eli, he just shakes his head, tears having wiped the majority of the ash away. He looks at you as if yo say, “I don’t even know why we keep looking.”

Esther begins to cry, the smoke bothering her eyes, and you just begin to rock her and walk down the street to take her away from the wreckage. No child should have to see something so horrible as this.

People begin to stop and ask what happened. Who did this? Why Kahn’s? Why your father’s shop? You just walked past them. How would you know? How could anyone know? All you knew is that your sister was crying and coughing too hard. You just needed to get away. You just needed to get away. Just away.

On the other side of Camden, Alfie Solomons walks in to the office, after a long night of praying and bargaining for his secretary to be at her desk when he came in.

Despite his pleas, he is not surprised to see that her desk has been untouched, the stove has not been lit, and the air is too cold to breathe in. He rubs his face roughly, more for punishment than for comfort, and caresses the calendar on the abandoned desk, before tenderly picking it up and taking it to his own desk. Alfie found himself soon flipping through those wrinkled and pressed pages. Noticing the arrows and tiny scribbles on your near penmanship. As he further explores he finds himself chuckling lowly at the small characters of Tommy, Ollie, and even him and Cyril. He notes the repetition of his own name, with a small delicate heart over the i. He nearly completely smudges away the small heart with his tracings when Ollie knocks him back to Camden, “Uhm Alfie…”

“What?”

And that’s when he noticed it… the silence. There were people in the bakery, same amount as usual all doing what the need to do. But he heard… nothing. It was silent. All he could hear were the scuffing thuds of work boots against worn down floor boards, and the moaning creaks of barrels being turned over. Alfie got up from his desk, brushed passed Ollie to look at his men. But they weren’t his men. These were phantoms wearing the clothes of his men. “What the fuck is wrong with them?”

Ollie tenderly stepped behind Alfie, “Alfie… there was a fire last night…”

The blood in his heart immediately froze. His lungs shrank in his chest, and the air was suddenly sucked out of the room. “Where?” Alfie asked, though he already knew.

“Kahn’s… Alfie it’s scorched.”

Alfie couldn’t even finish listening. He had to go. He had to go. Damn the secrecy. Damn what your family knew or didn’t know. Damn what the men would think, seeing him run to see if his w… secretary was hurt. That didn’t matter. The Mad Baker be damned. “Ollie. Get the car. Grab two men from downstairs. We’re going to Kahn’s now. NOW!”

Though the drive to your home from the office was merely 20 minutes, a drive he knew well, it felt as though it took years off his life. The closer the car got, the denser the crowds of people were. The more clearly he could see the dissipating smoke and ash.

When Alfie was a young child, he struggled with fear. Thunder sent him under the covers, loud fights sent him behind his mothers skirts. The dark petrified him, necessitating two candles to defend him from nightmares. This fear followed him through childhood until he was 10, when he was assigned to give a small speech in front of his class. Poor young Alfie Solomons, so terrified of the 20 pairs of eyes that stared at him, that he threw up. He fled in tears away from the gasps and laughter, and back into the arms of his mother. There he wept profusely, embarrassed but mostly angry about how cowardly he thought of himself. His mother, hushing and consoling him, was broken-hearted at her son’s agony. Her only child. Her pride and joy. “Ahhh varóbushik. You know… it is not bad to be afraid… fear is not a sin my love.”

His eyes, ocean like in his tears looked up at his mother, “But I need to be brave. Like papa was.”

She smiled softly, “Mm yes papa was very brave. But you know… bravery isn’t the absence of fear… no it’s… it’s surviving even when you are afraid. It’s doing what you are afraid of even when you are scared. That is brave. You are brave every day my sweet Alfie.”

Alfie curled closer to his mother’s side, rocking and swaying with her as she continued to stroke his unruly hair, “Alfie, I have a trick for when I’m scared. I used it when I was leaving my home country.”

Alfie looked up, hopeful for a spell or a tool to keep him from fear, “What is it mama?”

“I let myself be afraid for 10 seconds. I count backwards from ten, and let my body feel the fear. And with every breath, and every number, and release that fear. By the time I get to 1, I am no longer afraid. I push through it. If you can manage to push through to 1 every time… I think you will find that you can do anything my darling boy.”

Alfie nodded, and resolved to always make it to 1. Even as a Captain in the war, right before the charge, as he saw the enemy approaching, he started the count. He always made it to 1, and always won.

But the counting wasn’t working now. In the car to Kahn’s and Sons Alfie couldn’t make it past 5 before his mind fled to you, wondering why hadn’t seen you in the crowd yet. Why he hadn’t heard your voice above the engine of the car yet. Why he hadn’t heard you call for him yet.

The sick in his stomach almost made its way out of his mouth when he saw what was left of Kahn’s and Sons. The emerald green wood of the front had been destroyed, leaving a festering and open wound. The windows of the above apartment had been blown out, and he could see and smell charred wall paper and clothing. Anything that could be salvaged was already, piled up in a pathetic little hill to the side. The fire department had long left, the police wouldn’t be there for another day, and the neighbors could only hold who Alfie assumed to be your family, as they wept.

“Mr. Solomons?”

Alfie turned swiftly, as if he was afraid to miss your phantom’s last moments on Earth. But you were there, solid. As solid as the ask caked to your face. He willed his arms to stay at his side, so as not to crush you in his arms, or embarrass you. Your eyes begged him to say something, to say anything. To make sense of this. The fire. His presence. Your position. But what was he to say? What role is he to play in this? Esther looked at Alfie curiously her reddened cheeks pursued together, “Are you sissy’s boss?”

A million words could’ve been dictated from the stare you gave him. They can’t know… not now. Not like this. Alfie just smiled softly at Esther, “No little bird, I’m just a neighbor. Your sister’s boss is has an office near mine. But I hear she is a very smart sister. Is that right?”

Esther giggled and nodded, proceeding to babble at Alfie, competing with him in amount of words that could fall out of the human mouth. You couldn’t help but stare at this scene. The smoke and horror seemed to wash away, and all you could see is Alfie and Esther. Esther finally smiling after a night of pain. Alfie chuckling and playing with a small child, speaking with Esther as an equal. Teaching her a clapping game and asking her questions about her favorite dolls. It felt too natural. Too sweet and real and too tangible. It felt as if it was a window to a life you could have and wanted so badly but will never have. It was too much. Your strangled inhale brings Alfie’s eyes to yours, but before he can say anything of comfort your fathers voice booms over, “Mr. Solomons! My daughters are of no concern of yours! What could you possibly take from us at this time? Have you no compassion? No human decency!”

Your father pushed between you and Alfie, a formidable blockade. Alfie mad no move, essentially chest to chest with your father, staring right into his eyes. “Shalom sir. Was checking if the rumors were true. It’s a shame.”

“It is a shame, now please leave. There is nothing more you could take from us. This city is over run with your like, killing and blowing each other up, and what about us hmm?? We take the shrapnel. We either pay your protection fees and starve with a slightly better chance at surviving the blowbacks? Or we save our money to feed our children, and still suffer the consequences of your war? Now Mr. Solomons what more can you take from us?”

It was no longer a question where you got your mouth from. Your father was old, but in his eyes you saw the anger and fire of his youth, of a man out through war. Alfie typically wouldn’t allow this, by anyone. But frankly, what little memories Alfie had of his own father, he saw in yours. And he couldn’t help but feel as though this fire was his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t fought with you yesterday, this fire wouldn’t have happened.

Alfie swallowed down any regret of the night before. The time was not for regret. The time was for solutions. And if Alfie wanted to be a part of the solution, he needed to speak to your father. As businessmen, “Mr. Abraham. I am sorry for your loss. Despite your reservations, you still live in Camden. And as a resident of Camden right? You live under Solomons protection. Now this right here? This is wrong. And I’m going to personally right, see to it that it is resolved.”

Your father began to bristle at this, “The police will do an investigation. We don’t need a gangster mucking about.”

Alfie chuckled, “You know the police won’t do a fucking thing about this. They don’t care about these sort of things they’re in everyone’s purse. Fuck, some of them are in mine.”

“I will not be indebted to another tyrant.”

Your free hand flew to your fathers shoulder, “Papa please… if you won’t allow a mitzvah… please just… just speak business with Mr. Solomons.”

Your father turned to you, “This is none of your concern! Please go to your mother immediately!”

But you stood your ground, “Mr. Solomons is offering you a solution papa! You are impeding a solution and the possibility help and a necessary alliance! And for what?! Pride?! Look at this! We have nothing! The shop is destroyed and we out home is burnt! What other solution could you possibly have?”

Your father just stared at you, mouth open, the emotions of the day washing over him. It was true. There was no other choice. And you were too old for him to be able to shield you from that reality. You clutched a shocked Esther closer to your side, “Papa… just… listen to what Mr. Solomons has to say… He is a business man. He can be reasonable, that’s what people say.”

Your father looked at you, and in that moment he saw you as you fully were. No longer that small child that sat with him until the late hours listening to him read. Not the little girl who cried about hurt birds who didn’t have a papa to take care of them. But a full woman. A whole woman with a firm mind and kind heart and strong temper. In an instant he felt the joy of watching his child, the mourning of losing his little girl, and the wonder of who you became seemingly overnight. He nodded, and turned back to Alfie, who was hiding his smile underneath an unkempt beard. Your father straightened and said, “Well Mr. Solomons. What are your proposed terms for such a partnership?”

Your father proved to be a shrewd businessman, nitpicking with Alfie over every detail in this partnership, which according to the terms would be reviewed every 6 months, with an option of either side to cancel the business relationship at those meetings. But Alfie knew he was never going to be the one to cancel it, as long as it kept him tied to you. You were the assigned scribe to the terms, which you fell easily into like walking. Mr. Solomons would provide housing to you and your family for the time it took to repair your family's home. The home was a block away from his office and home, providing easier access and protection for your family while an investigation was to take place. The investigation, Alfie insisted, would be conducted by his own men, and any policemen in his purse. Alfie insisted to your father that this was more for his own benefit than your father's, as it would solidify his position as the protector and the owner of Camden town. Your father acquiesed to Alfie's demand that the perpetrator would be dealt with in his own way, not involving the actual legal system.

Kahn's and Sons would be repaired and restocked through the use of Solomons men and contacts, which would be completed within in the next two months. Upon the finished construction, two men would be on guard of the shop during the day and night, reduced to one man upon the capture of the man who committed the act. Payment for the housing, rebuilding, and protection would be based on the services of Mr. Abraham and his family. Information obtained during client conversations, as well as tailoring and laundry services necessitated by the entirety of the Solomons Company. Services would be traded according to the going rate of Kahn and Sons prices. And upon the equitable exchange, Solomons laundry and tailoring services would then be discounted at a 45% rate. At the end of the negotiation, both men shook hands, both fighting to keep pleased looks off their faces and keep the air of solemnity and certainty and expectance.

As soon as their hands released, they nodded and gave Shalom, with your father giving directions to his own family, and Alfie barking orders to Ollie and his men. You stayed firmly planted next to Alfie, Esther being taken by your father. You looked at him quizically saying to him, "That is the most generous offer you have ever given in your life."

Alfie gruffed, "You hardly have standing to say that seeing as you only been working with me for 7 months."

"Am I still employed?"

"You better. Or else the entire office is going to shit. Ollie is moping. I can't read your handwriting. And you messed everything up in my office I can't find anything."

You smirked, "I told you, you need new glasses and your office was a pig pen. You should be thanking me profusely."

Alfie just grumbled. He would never admit that the way you spoke to him now made him feel better than he had in the past 12 hours. You allowed your fingers to brush his and the rings stacked on them, "Thank you Alfie.", you let out in a whisper, not looking at him.

He took a quick breath in at the contact, immediately craving more. But he bristled out instead, "For what?"

Your eyes remained planted at the dirt on your shoes, "For coming. For... checking in."

Alfie gently brushed his finger tips against the top of your hands, hanging by your sides, the closest he could get to holding your hands, "I had to. Now get over there, your mother keeps looking over Eli's shoulder. I'll meet you all where you'll be staying."

You nodded, cheeks and hands hot, "Yes Alfie. Shalom."

"Shalom Darling."

Tag List: @jokersqueenofchaos @hoodeddreams13 @satur9-saturnalia @autumnleaves1991-blog @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @character---obsessed @solomons-finest-rum

[fairdale]

to william herondale, with love

you have two options when it comes about will.

you can choose to stay in the surface, to think of him as a sassy, sarcastic, superficial and selfish man who doesn't give a shit about anything nor anyone except for jem, who makes insensitive jokes and doesn't care if he hurts people.

or you can choose to know him. the little parts of him that make him wonderful, sweet, delicate and caring. and, oh, how much love will fill your heart when you realise how much he deserves to be loved.

and how much he craves it.

will is sarcastic, yes. he's funny, he pulls off jokes like it's nothing, he makes people laugh, he sings the demon pox song and makes everyone think he's a little crazy.

but he's also the kid who left his family too young because he thought he was cursed and he loved them too much.

he's also the kid who thought no one could ever love him anymore.

he's also the kid who felt terribly lonely after leaving his family.

he's also the kid who wanted jem to be his parabatai so badly he didn't care he was sick and that he would leave him too soon.

he's also the kid who didn't want people too close to him because he loved them and didn't want anything bad to happen to them. jem was different. it wasn't just because he was sick, it's because he was jem. because jem saw who he truly was when no one else did. his heart beat because jem's did as well.

he's also the man who loved to read. the man whose name will still be dancing in the walls of the library centuries later. the man who found a safe place between books.

he's also the man who was so in love with tessa he tried to break the curse after years of living like that, because his love was so pure, so deep, so real, he had to do something.

he's also the man who put his hands into the fire to save jem's yin fen, because he couldn't imagine a life without him. because he didn't want a life without him.

he's also the man who was desperately in love with tessa, but made himself scarce because he couldn't put his own happiness over tessa and jem's. because he saw how good they were to each other.

he's also the man who held jessamine in his arms when she died too young.

he's also the man who let jem go when he told him he didn't want to live like that anymore even though it would forever break him and he would take a part of his soul with him.

he's also the man who went to save tessa even when he felt his heart getting carved out of his chest when jem died.

he's also the man who learned how to have his sister next to him again, the man who went back to his parents even if he were terrified.

he's also the man who made sure tessa never doubted for a second that he was devoted to her.

he's also the man who travelled the world with her and wrote her letters to show his love.

he's also the man who made sure to love his children loudly, to tell them he was proud of them and that they weren't monsters.

he's also the man who fought against injustices in the clave.

he was also the man who died surrounded by his loved ones (because he was, in fact, so loved).

he was also the man watching jem and tessa's wedding dream since the other side of the river, being happy for them.

will was the man with a heart so big he didn't know what to do with all the love he held in it.

when someone asks me, but why do you love him so much? well, how can you not? how, when he tried to love so quietly but he was screaming, when he was trying not to care but he cared more than anyone.

will herondale was, is and forever will be the character i hold closest to my heart, the character who made me laugh, cry and love the most.

"he lies consistently. he always invents the story that will make him look the worst."

"but it was there, in the touch of his hand on her cheek, in the softness of his voice, in his eyes when he looked at her. it was the way she had always dreamed a boy would look at her. but she never dreamed up someone as beautiful as will, not in all her imaginings."

"all my life, since i came to the institute, you were the mirror of my soul. i saw the good in me in you. in your eyes alone i found grace. when you are gone from me, who will see me like that?"

"against his own will, almost, will felt himself understanding; he would have done anything, he thought, told any lie, taken any risk, to make tessa love him. he would have done— almost anything. he would not betray jem for it. that was the one thing he would not do."

"don’t you see, will? you’re a person like me. you are like me. you say the things i think but never say out loud. you read the books i read. you love the poetry i love. you make me laugh with your ridiculous songs and the way you see the truth of everything. "

"when she tilted her head up and brushed his lips with hers, he cupped her face in his hands. so many years, he thought, and each kiss was new as the break of day."

"wo men shi sheng si ji jiao," said will, and he saw jem’s eyes widen, fractionally, and the spark of amusement inside them. "go in peace, james carstairs."

"and in the shadows they’d whispered, reminding each other of the stories only they knew. of the girl who had hit over the head with a water jug the boy who had come to rescue her, and how he had fallen in love with her in that instant."

"she remembered when will had died, her agony, the long nights alone, reaching across the bed every morning when she woke up, for years expecting to find him there, and only slowly growing accustomed to the fact that side of the bed would always be empty."

"i don’t know how to live in the world as a shadowhunter without will. i don’t think I even want to. i am still a parabatai, but my other half is gone. if I were to go to some Institute and ask them to take me in, i would never forget that. i would never feel whole."

"i miss you. we miss you. someday, we'll all be together. not too soon, my angel tessa. i can wait."

...

"my name is herondale," the boy said cheerfully. "william herondale, but everyone calls me will."

[mrs-snape5984]

“Take my mind and take my pain…”

“Like an empty bottle takes the rain. And heal, heal, heal….” (“Heal” by Tom Odell)

Nighttime is my favourite time of the day. Being surrounded by this natural darkness and silence (not in the way, in which I have to “mute” the world all day long by shutting the blinds and wearing noise cancelling headphones to avoid being overstimulated) makes me feel…safe. Almost content.

In some nights, I’m even strong enough to leave my room, so I can sit outside on my balcony, enjoying a fresh breeze on my face. The world is silent, there’s no car on the streets and all I see, is the Moselle glistening in the moonlight in front of me. Finally feeling human again…

During the phases of my crashes, I can’t even step outside to my balcony. Sometimes I’m desperate enough to crawl outside, when my legs are refusing to do their goddamn job even with the help of my cane! In these moments, I’m glad to be alone…without any witnesses to my humiliation.

Last night was a lost night. I passed out…again. It scares me to hell that these moments are happening more often nowadays. All I know, is that I sat down on my bed…crying from exhaustion and pain. And hours later, when I’m coming back to consciousness, I’m still in the same sitting position. There are proofs in my room, that my children must have been here…proofs like a drawing lying next to me on my bed…a plushie sitting on my coffee table, watching over me. And I know that my kids will tell me, that I didn’t wake up…no matter what they tried to do.

Yesterday a friend of mine wanted to visit me in order to enjoy a cup of tea with me in the darkness of my room. I was so excited to see her…to have someone here for a little while…to feel less lonely for a moment. My body ached so badly and my exhaustion felt like a truck, who was parking on me…so I passed out whilst I was waiting for my friend to come over. When I came back to senses, there were several text messages and several calls from her. She was upset, that I didn’t hear the doorbell, both of my phones and her knocking on the door. So, after a while, she left…and all what’s left for me is a feeling of being a total failure…a pathetic shadow of myself.

There’s still no cure for ME/CFS…and no one knows, if there’d ever be one. All I can do, is trying different things, and yet…nothing helped me. With each new crash I’m falling deeper into the void of darkness and despair. Each new crash takes its toll on me…takes a piece of me away! I’m so afraid of losing myself completely!

When I commissioned my friend @sleepybradipo for this meaningful piece of art, I begged him to make the trust between Severus and Julia - but also their despair - palpable. They’re searching for a way to heal Jules…to cure her body and her soul. Maybe the answer lies in the Dark Arts…who knows? These lovers will try anything possible in order to save her…just like I wished to be saved.

Ivano, when I got the idea for this project, I just knew, that you would be the best artist to make my dream come true. Your tender style makes my heart swell with so much love and gratitude. I adore your work and the dedication to all these marvellous details in this artwork…it’s everything, I hoped to see, when I described my idea to you. Thank you for helping me to soothe my troubled heart and mind with your beautiful art and your kind words. I’m beyond grateful that I met you here, my friend. You’re truly a blessing to me. Thank you for everything. 🥹

Oh, and please take my apologies for this chaotically worded post. My disease seems to rob the next piece of me by stealing my ability to create vivid images with my phrases (I already mentioned that in my last post).

I’m sharing my nocturnal view with you. Feel free to enjoy the Moselle at night.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

[nr1chaedickrider]

It's all in my head, who do I trust? - I thought that you loved me, what is happening to us?

anyway, don't be a stranger.

2 new messages,

[user: momo]

'Hey'

...

'Happy birthday,

I did not forget.'

...

'meet me at han river in 10?'

...

'okay.'

-

The cold night air hits Jihyo's face, giving her goosebumps.

It's completly empty except for some couples sitting on the grass.

It makes her wish that she would be one of them.

She puts her hands inside of the pockets of her jacket.

She reaches a familiar bench.

It makes her think, about the old times.

About her first kiss.

About the confession of love in the rain - like a romantic movie that would have the watchers sobbing in their seats.

It got her sobbing too, in the depth of the night.

When she feels lonely, and vunerable.

A side of her that she doesn't want anyone to see.

She sits down on the bench, staring at the water.

She tries to lean back, tries to relax.

How is she able to relax if exactly she was the first person to congratulate her on her birthday?

"Jihyo" says Momo in a soft voice.

How is she supposed to relax when she says her name like that?

She looks up, from the water, and looks Momo in the eyes before she joins her on the bench.

They both stare at the water, without saying anything.

Even though people would describe Jihyo as someone that always has something to say, as someone that can't stay silent for too long, she has no idea what to say in this moment.

But that is nothing new to Jihyo, or to Momo, moments like these, in silence, are nothing new to them.

Jihyo decides to break the silence though.

"I only allow myself to miss you at night, I miss you in the secret -

because thats how it should be." she says, it comes out as a whisper.

It's an impulsive thought.

Momo looks at her, nods a little, then looks back at the river.

"Do you still think of me sometimes?" Jihyo asks.

She wishes she didn't ask that question after thinking about it long enough.

She wishes she didn't answer Momo's stupid texts.

She knows what her answer is going to be, something like a "no, I dont, not really."

But she is actually surprised when Momo answers.

"I do.

A lot actually"

This time Jihyo looks at Momo, without saying anything.

It feels like they are having an pointless conversation, with no goal or no end.

"Sometimes I want to text you -

but then I remember" Momo says.

Jihyo thinks she even heard a little sob when Momo said it.

But she doesn't want to think about it too much.

It's silent again, both watching people slowly leave the river.

The couples leave together, hand in hand.

Jihyo gets emotional seeing it.

"Atleast we are under the same sky" Jihyo says.

She feels the tears coming, but tries to hold them back.

"Maybe in another universe" Momo says, or rather, whispers.

And Jihyo is definetly sure that she heard a sob.

"I'm starting to forget you, I'm starting to forget us -

and it scares me." Jihyo says.

It's pointless.

This conversation.

They are both pathetically crying, like little, spoiled children that got their candy taken away.

They try to focus on the han river infront of them, they try to ignore the fact that this,

somehow is a goodbye.

"Can we have one more meaningless conversation?" Jihyo asks, even thought she already knows the answer to her stupid question.

"It's too late" Momo answers.

And she is right, she is so fucking right.

But Jihyo doesn't want it to be true.

Jihyo just wishes they could go back to talking once in a while because one of them is feeling alone in the middle of the night.

It doesn't need to be constant texting.

Just every now and then.

"I don't want to forget your voice"

She is trying to drag this out, to stop Momo from leaving.

"Or anything about you." Jihyo says, looking down onto her lap.

She watches her tears dropping onto her black jeans.

"I will look at the stars every night -

and I will think of you" Momo answers.

"My birthday wish for you is to let go" Momo says as she stands up.

Jihyo doesn't stop her when she starts walking.

She knows she can't stop her.

She knows she couldn't.

So instead of running after her, or leaving to walk to her apartment, she just watches Momo leave.

Her figure disappears in the darkness of the night.

"Anyway,

don't be a stranger." she whispers.

[elderflowergin]

Hello, hi. I hope that you are well and I hope you don't mind me kinda rambling in your inbox. I see that you've watched The Double! May I just say as great as the show was, I think I have one niggling issue with it, maybe two. The og Jiang Li was forgotten in the end and not even her father mourned her for real - as much as I love that Xue FF got her justice, that poor girl died not knowing that she was loved. It would have been nice to see her father, at least stand by her grave or something to remember her. Then Wanning(poor girl best girl mean girl)! I hate that she died like that. There was no way she was ever going to concede power to man after the treatment she received in that other kingdom, I don't even think that she wanted to corrupt Sheng Yurong, but her trauma will not allow her to trust or yield to man for any reason and I am so curious as to why she trusted her brother to be emperor knowing that she detests men in high positions. Lastly Jiang Li's fake pregnancy ploy was beyond cruel, of course she had no context, but to Wanning, it was everything. I cried for her. My heart broke her. Despised by her own people after what she endured for them, maybe a a little madness is not unrealistic. I cried when she cried. Wept with her. I hope this makes sense. Anyway, wish the show had more space for all three of them. That's all.

hello hi anon! I’m good! And I completely agree with you - I didn’t write my concluding thoughts on the show here (I did it on twitter) but yes, real-Jiang Li never got her due, and XFF’s reveal to Jiang Li’s father gave short shrift to the girl who suffered for ten abusive, lonely years. And I don’t think redeeming Jiang Yuanbai was fair to Jiang Li’s righteous rage at her total abandonment - Ji Shuran may have been the agent of destruction, but she managed to commit all these horrors because Jiang Yuanbai was a lousy father and husband. This man’s negligence led to the deaths of two wives and two children! Crying for thirty seconds of screen time is not enough imho.

Wanning’s end was indeed gutting to watch, and the only point at which I was weeping too. She’s sacrificed so much for her kingdom and suffered far more than anyone can imagine, and yet these grand old men turn up their noses and avoid her because she didn’t wield a bow and arrow. No wonder Shen Yurong’s meagre gesture meant so much to her. My guess is Wanning did not have enough power to drive succession - the men around her don’t trust her or think of her as smart, including Lord Cheng and yes, the emperor, and she’s nothing more than an inconvenience to be handled. I think Lord Cheng only pretended better than their younger brother does, and I guess being full siblings close in age helped them build a bond.

The fake pregnancy broke my heart as well, and I know it was aimed at saving the Yan, but it was so cruel considering Wanning’s backstory. How much indignity did she suffer, my god, and for LI JING to loudly mourn her! Blech!

I have to admit that all things considered this was an incredibly entertaining show! I enjoyed so much of it, and I was especially surprised that I enjoyed watching Shen Yurong. I find TV misogynists to be very boring - how many different ways can you hate women, after all? - but he was a compelling character till the end, like layers of a rotting onion. I’m hoping someone picks up Wanning’s plot and writes something that does her justice.

Thanks Anon, for giving me an opportunity to talk about this inexplicably compelling show!

[the-s1lly-corner]

HIHIHI

Soo i had a very fun ideia

Idk if you know ride the cyclone but basically its a musical theater show where shows a group of dead teenagers who died in a rollercoaster called cyclone and they were in some kind of limbo and they have to decide between themselves whos going to revive since only one can.

Theres this mysterious participant called Jane doe in the musical, nobody knew her when she was alive, no one knew her actual name, no one knew NOTHING about Jane, not even Jane knew herself completely. She only knew very little from her life and that she desperately wanted an identity.

SO HEAR ME OUT!!!

Jane doe type!reader and the gang

Like reader remembers very little from her life but enough to know that they were lonely, and they have this very mysterious personality where they have almost no emotion in their voice and very unaware about how they talk and act, like reader can say the most disturbing thing to others without even noticing. And reader is a doll like character just like Jane, so they sometimes act in a robotic way, almost like imitating a doll.

Example on how they talk:

Someone of the gang brings up something that freaks them out and reader will go like: "you know what really freaks me out? When a lioness and a lion have children the lioness will stop making love to the lion and give attention to the children, the lion gets jealous, sometimes so jealous that he eats the children, you think that would upset the lioness? Far from it, they just go back to making love as if the children never existed. I find that ideia terrifying."

In a full emotionless robotic-like voice without even knowing that they just said the most terrifying thing ever.

But when someone asks about reader's real life, they will go full SAD MODE AND START THROWING VERY EMOTIONAL THINGS.

Saying things like: "i knew very little from my poor life, but i knew that i was just a lonely poor soul. Lost in the way of life, i ask myself everyday, why such misery?" And keeps blabbering about it.

(If you want you can listen to Jane Doe's music to understand a little more better about the voice, its called 'the ballad of Jane Doe')

Sorry for making it so long, wanted to just make things easier for you by explaining everything without you needing to burn your beautiful little brain researching! I love your vlog by the way <3

The rest of the cast x jane doe type! reader!

linking the other post under the cut, but if i had a nickel for how many times someone has made a RTC themed request for TADC i would have two, which isnt a lot but its odd thats is happened; in the same day no less!/lh/nm

i think this is my sign to get into RTC, ive only listen to 3 of the songs (talia, ballad of jane doe, and noels lament)

ballad of jane doe had a choke hold on me in September, as well as noels lament

POMNI, JAX, AND RAGATHA

CAINE:

aha! haha! i think he would shoot back a fact thats nearly just as disturbing and/or obscure as yours!

though if its something particularly macabre he might look like the gif above. just pauses, speechless, before just

"oh! thats nice reader!" i mean, he might scold you if its too much, afterall the circus is a place for all ages and he would hate that be compromised!

youre in luck, he doesnt really ask you about what your life was like before the digital world, since well, he understands that everyone pretty much forgets everything; i think this applies to everyone tbh

GANGLE:

side note its so hard to find gangle gifs

very similar to ragatha in the regard that she tries to make sure youre not wandering off during a rather hectic IHA

kind of just grins and bears through your "fun" facts, but if her comedy mask is broken shes very bad at hiding some of the shock and discomfort on her face

probably makes a little whining sound/sounds like shes about to cry if you spit out a particularly brutal one

i forgot to mention it in the previous post for ragatha but i think her and gangle would be the ones most likely to try to console you if you begin grieving your lost life and memories

ragatha probably being the more successful one whereas gangle just lets you cry and get your feelings out; as well with some complimentary awkward shoulder pats

ZOOBLE:

finds some of them interesting! i think i said somewhere that zooble would be the type to be into the dark stuff before getting trapped in the circus, or at least they do to me. so i think you two would be on par with one another in terms of infodumping

unless im confusing them with someone else, i do have a habit of getting my hcs wrong and/or mixed up (looks at my old posts for crp where i constantly switch back and forth on whether or not slenderman would know how to cook)

with that aside, i think if they truly were not in the mood to listen to you or just wanted the quiet they would let you know in the nicest way zooble can

"no one wants to hear your net facts, reader"/ref but in a tired and over it tone whereas in the last post with jax hes kinda mean about it

KINGER:

do not say a bug fact he will not shut the hell up, he will go on and on for hours about different bug stuff, perhaps you two going back and forth for god knows how long. i dont think he would be too creeped out by the more... creepy facts of the critters, oddly enough, since like, he understands it so why would he be afraid?

probably gets put off by your tone and movements, but its not enough for him to approach you to talk about bug stuff

mf yall are both wandering off during an IHA TToTT

[winter-dayz]

Lonely St.

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader Grim Reaper AU; Soulmate AU Genre: Angst; Fluff Words: 3322 Warnings: implied major character death; implied suicide; strong language

Masterlist | Fictober Masterpost

Taglist:  @soobin-chois

Wandering.

Watching.

Waiting.

That’s all Seungmin really knew.

He wandered around the material plane, invisible to mortal beings, watching them enjoy their short lives. He saw them laugh and cry, celebrate and grieve. He watched their senseless wars, their fighting, their deaths.

And then he waited.

He waited for the feeling. The pull to a newly deceased soul.

It was all he’d ever known.

Ferrying souls so that they could rest, he’d never had a choice in it. It was what he was created to do.

The Fates had molded him in the shape of the beings he worked with, helping to gain their trust once they had left their mortal bodies and making it easier to get them to cross over.

He wasn’t frightening. He didn’t kill. He just did his job. He might’ve been a bit reserved towards his… clients, but he was anything but scary. Despite the rumors that the Grim received.

Presently, he was monitoring an older woman in the hospital. He could feel the tug. Any moment…

“Oh dear…” She sighed, eyeing her children and grandchildren weep over her. “I didn’t want them to mourn me.”

Seungmin nodded at the woman’s soul, “It’s what humans do. It can’t be helped. It simply shows that you were loved.”

Her wavering form seemed to smile up at him. “So are you the terrifying reaper, taking my soul?”

He shrugged, looking back over at the husk that the humans cried around. “I suppose that is what they say about me. Are you ready?”

“More than anything… I suffered long enough. I want to be with my husband again.”

“Just through there,” Seungmin motioned to the doorway of the hospital room, shimmering a white light. “He’s been waiting for you.”

The soul seemed to wriggle in excitement, becoming more and more amorphous as it melded into the white light of the other side, leaving Seungmin behind to once again wander… Watch… Wait…

What an odd thing it was, waiting.

He never knew how much time would pass.

🎃

The tug was there, and he followed it.

Just like always.

He found himself in a park, families with children and dogs with their owners playing all around him. As he settled on a bench, he felt the tug again.

Just in time.

A small brown puppy ran towards him, leash trailing behind.

He would’ve paid no mind. The creature wouldn’t be able to see him anyway.

“Hey! Grab that leash!” A young woman shouted at him.

He really would’ve paid no mind. If the woman hadn’t been able to see him.

For the first time in probably his entire existence, he moved reflexively. He didn’t simply wait. He reacted.

Seungmin grabbed the puppy’s leash in time, and the little dog whirled around in confusion, yipping at—presumably—nothing.

“Oh my god,” the woman gasped, coming to stand in front of him, “Thank you so much…?”

His mouth fell open, eyes wide and disbelieving. “You can see me?”

She plopped down onto the bench beside him, “Um… Yeah… Should I not be able to? Are you a spy or something? Oh shit! Am I blowing your cover?”

Sarcastic. The woman was sarcastic. 

“Anyway, thanks for catching my dog. M is such a troublemaker. He’s always running off… I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Pretty. The woman—Y/N, his brain slowly supplied—was pretty.

“M is a letter.”

She hummed. “Very quick wit you have there, super spy. I wanted to name him M&M, y’know like the candy, since the day I got him he stole an entire bag of them, and then I had to rush him to the emergency vet… But he won’t respond to that. Only M, or just Puppy… If I’m being honest, I think he knows what his name is supposed to be and does it just to annoy me.”

Kind. Y/N was kind.

Wait.

Y/N could see him.

There was his brain coming back online…

How could she see him?

Was she on the cusp of death perhaps? A terminal illness? It would be rude to ask.

It also didn’t feel right. Those who saw him could usually tell who—what—he was. But she simply assumed he was a mortal out for a stroll in the park.

He turned to stare at her. The sun glittered against her skin. She was completely at peace, ethereal, in her human shell.

“You never told me your name.” She finally spoke, standing to leave with her dog.

He hummed but was still in too much of a daze to respond. She left with a shrug and a small laugh.

Dizzying. Her laugh was dizzying.

🎃

Her name had not been on his list, despite the tug he had felt to be in that spot at that moment.

It was as if he was destined to meet her.

But that shouldn’t have been possible.

He didn’t meet people.

He ferried souls. He did his job. He wandered, watched, and waited.

It was too much for him to figure out. Honestly, it was outside of his duties… above his pay grade, so to speak. And yet, it bothered him that he couldn’t do so.

His job continued; the tug reappeared, pulling him to the next soul.

He discounted the experience and moved on.

🎃

“So we meet again?” She tilted her head up at him, eyelashes batting and a playful smile dancing on her lips.

The tug had lied to him again.

He’d been pulled to the front of this ice cream shop, only to arrive at the same moment as the woman from the park.

She could still see him. She still wasn’t a soul. She was still ethereal.

“I don’t know why this keeps happening. You shouldn’t be able to see me.” He muttered, more to himself than to her. She snickered at him anyway.

“So you’re still undercover then? Wait, wait… Am I the target? Is that why I’m not supposed to see you?” She looked around, eyes wide as if she was afraid and searching.

At the furrow of his brows, she laughed and nudged his shoulder. “C’mon. Ice cream is on me, just gotta tell me your name.”

He hesitated, considered leaving. Obviously this was another fluke… And it’s not like he could really enjoy the human treat anyway. But then the tug returned, and it was stronger than it had ever been. It was so persistent, so annoying. He had to follow it. So, he followed her into the shop with a small mutter of, “Seungmin.”

🎃

He had double, no triple, checked his list.

Nowhere to be found was a L/N Y/N.

He had even broken a rule and snuck into The Fates’ hall.

Finding hers amongst the millions of threads should’ve been difficult. Normally, one is only drawn to their own string, and only The Fates themselves can easily identify anyone else’s thread. But…

But, the never-ending tug when it surrounded anything having to do with the chatty, ethereal woman led him right to her string.

It was fine.

It wasn’t frayed like she was near-death or ill. It wasn’t cut like she was deceased and unaware.

Y/N was a normal woman.

Or, as normal a woman could be if they could see, talk to, and feel the Grim Reaper.

🎃

This time he had intentionally followed the tug, knowing it would lead to the enigma in his life.

He shouted her name, stomping through the bar and uncaring of all the people around. They couldn’t hear him anyway.

She turned to him, her furrowed brows eased and a smile lit up her face when she spotted him. She didn’t notice that no one else had reacted to him.

Seungmin nodded towards the side door, and she followed him into the dark alley.

“How did you find me?” She laughed, drunkenly, “Been keeping tabs on me, super spy?”

“Yes.” Seungmin stated, “I need to know how you can see me.”

Y/N groaned, “You’re still playing this game?”

Seungmin huffed, “It’s not a game, Y/N. I–” He hesitated but let out a steady breath, “I am not human. I’m a Grim. I was created by The Fates to ferry souls. You shouldn’t be able to see me unless you are dead… or at least dying.”

Her eyes widened, seemingly terrified, “I’m dying?”

“No!” Seungmin nearly shouted. He was a rational being, but she made him react so strongly. “That’s the problem… Your thread seemed perfectly normal to me. Granted, I don’t work with them. That’s not my job, but it wasn’t frayed or ended.”

“Oh my god,” Y/N let the scared face slip, falling back against the brick wall in another fit of drunken giggles. “Are you insane? You really think you’re the personification of death or something?”

“I’ll prove it.”

And he did. He dragged her back through the bar, snapping in front of people’s faces and tapping on shoulders only to be met with confused glances around. She finally noticed no one reacting to him; she also noticed the crazy looks she got when she reacted and spoke with him.

It was her turn to drag him away, back to the front and into a cab that she shakily hailed.

Y/N remained silent the entire drive, only speaking to the driver.

Once inside her apartment, she let out a heavy breath.

“So I can see ghosts?”

“I’m not a ghost.”

“Well, you’re not a person, Seungmin!”

He rolled his eyes, “I’m aware of that. But I’m not a ghost. Ghost implies that I died and didn’t cross over. That’s not what happened.”

“Okay then, how are you… this?”

Seungmin’s brows furrowed, matching her own confusion. “What do you mean? I’ve always been ‘this.’ I’m a Grim Reaper. That’s how The Fates created me.”

“Okay… Not a ghost. So…” Y/N dropped onto the sofa beside him. “The Fates. You mentioned them earlier too and something about a thread?”

He nodded. “Yes. By all accounts, only beings that have passed and need to cross over can see and interact with a Grim the way you do. In some rare cases, a being that is terminally ill or on the precipice of death will see us as well, but their strings are always fraying. I checked yours since I wondered if that was the case for you; however, your thread seemed to be perfectly intact to me.” 

“So I’m not dead, and you’re not alive… But we’re able to talk?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“It’s certainly not normal.”

“I see…” Y/N sighed, “Well, what if we just go our separate ways and forget about all of this until I actually am dead?”

“That’s the other thing…” Seungmin hesitated, “I keep getting drawn to you.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, normally, I am drawn to a soul that is needing to cross over. But for some reason, more and more frequently, I am being pulled to you.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, “That’s how you keep finding me… It’s what you meant by ‘keeping tabs.’ And here I thought it was a bunch of coincidental meet-cutes.”

He tilted his head, obviously not understanding, “I don’t follow. A ‘meet-cute’?”

She hummed. “It’s this plot device in movies and stuff where a future couple meet for the first time.”

Seungmin’s expression didn’t falter, but he whispered, “Couple?” to himself regardless. He was aware of the concept, of course, often interacting with sad souls being separated from their earthly partners or excited ones getting to reunite on the other side. But he himself had never considered companionship in depth… Particularly because before now he never thought it would be possible.

“You said those on the precipice of death can sometimes see you…” Y/N finally asked, breaking his lengthy pondering of what it would be like to have someone to wander through life with.

Seungmin noticed the quiver in her voice, the roughness of her tone. He hesitated, if only for a moment, before leaning forward and placing his hand on hers. “Yes, in rare instances. But, I can assure you that your thread was fine. You are not going to die anytime soon, Y/N.”

She shook her head, “That’s– No. I know you said that, and I believe you… I– I trust you. But… When I was little, I was in an accident. The paramedics who responded said my heart had stopped. I was dead for three minutes. Could that be some kind of exception?”

“I– I don’t know, Y/N.” Seungmin floundered. All of this was unprecedented for him too.

“Who would know?”

“The Fates.”

Y/N sighed, “I was afraid you were going to say that…” She stood from her sofa, trading her uncomfortable heels for sneakers. “Alright, let’s go.”

“Go?” Seungmin sputtered with wide eyes as he trailed her to the front door. It was the most reaction she had seen out of him; the most… human, he had seemed. And the cutest, if she was able to think about anything other than the fact that he was a Grim Reaper.

She shrugged, grabbing his hand without thinking to pull him to the elevator. “They are the only ones who know the answers to what is going on with us. So you’re going to take us to them, and we’ll get this sorted out.”

Seungmin gaped at you, “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

🎃

“Whoa…” Y/N breathed, staring up at the massive doors in front of her. “So this is the underworld?”

Seungmin shook his head, “Not exactly. It’s The Fates’ hall. It exists outside of your space and reality, a place that the trinity can weave time for mortals. It’s where I first remember… waking up.”

“Right. Well let’s go in.” She huffed, pushing forward as Seungmin’s eyes widened.

“Wha– You– We can’t just go in!”

She shrugged. “Why not?” Y/N asked, opening the doors and stepping through.

“Because it’s against th–”

“It’s about time you two showed up.” A voice spoke, reverberating down the neverending hall.

Y/N paused, gaping as she took in the millions of red threads strung around. Many of them crossed over one another, some tangling together and some fully knotted. There were strings dangling pitifully, obviously ended, and others clearly fraying and barely holding together.

What Seungmin had mentioned came to mind, settling like a rock in the pit of her stomach at how many people were so close to death without even knowing.

Another heavy feeling settled as she gazed over to the Grim, unaffected by the threads as he led her through the maze of red. How many people had he helped cross? How much death had he been around? How long had he been without real connection as the only beings that could speak with him were meant to leave immediately?

“Don’t think too hard, dear.” An elderly woman smiled up at her from a rocking chair, happily snipping a thread.

“Yes, child, you won’t likely remember any of those dreadful thoughts once you leave our chambers.” Another, middle-aged, woman spoke as she measured the string she was holding.

Y/N’s eyes widened, head shaking lightly to clear her jumbled mind, “Who–”

“Who are we?” The final woman, young—barely a woman—spoke, while she wove the red strings. “You know who we are. We’re The Fates. We’re time and destiny. And you are here because you are wondering how you can see our Grim Reaper.”

She nodded, unable to find words. Seungmin, likewise, remained silent. In all his existence, he had never directly met with The Fates.

The elderly woman tutted gently to capture the mortal and reaper’s attentions. “The Grim… Sorry, Seungmin… is a bit confused about his origins. We didn’t create him. He was a mortal once.”

“I was a what?!” Seungmin interjected.

“Hush child, don’t interrupt your elders.” The middle-aged woman scolded.

The young woman continued, “Yes, it’s true. We did not create you. You were once a man who cut his own thread, so-to-speak…”

“That’s to say that you unfortunately took your own life, dear. And, the punishment for this sin is to be reincarnated as a Grim Reaper…”

“You were assigned an undetermined amount of time assisting souls pass on. To not know rest, child.”

“But, a few years ago, we decided you earned your second chance… If you could reconcile with the soulmate that you so cruelly left behind in your last life.”

Y/N’s eyes flickered between The Fates as they stared at her meaningfully. “Oh my god… You mean me?”

“Yes, dear. You and Seungmin are a destined pair. Would you like to see your threads?”

She nodded dumbly, while Seungmin gaped. “I– But I looked at her thread, and I didn’t notice anything odd…”

“Well of course you wouldn’t, child. It’s not your job to read the strings.”

Before Seungmin could argue further, the hallway around them shifted, the strings around them changing. The scenery settled, and the middle-aged woman held two threads gently. She motioned Seungmin and Y/N over, allowing them to follow her explanation with a demonstration.

“This was your original thread, so beautifully woven and tied together, until…” She held the end of one of the threads, cut short as the other continued on, fraying slowly. “You cut your string, while your soulmate continued on, decaying from heartbreak. You were changed into a Grim Reaper shortly after, and we created a new thread from you.”

“And then,” The young woman continued, as the scenery changed once more. Seungmin recognized the two threads she now held, “Your soulmate was reborn.”

The Fates admired their handiwork on Seungmin and Y/N’s strings, tracing over where Y/N’s was cut and retied—explaining it was from her near-death experience.

“It wasn’t quite your time, dear. I apologize for being a bit scissor-happy. But, it was also a way for us to ensure our sweet Grim and you become more easily tangled later on.”

The two threads continued on, crossing over multiple times to signify each time Seungmin was pulled to her, and The Fates held them both tightly together as they stood still in time with each other in the hall.

“What happens now?” Seungmin whispered finally.

“Well, that will be up to you and your soulmate, child. Ideally, you two will continue on your journey together and strengthen your bond to grant you mortality.”

Y/N gasped, backing away into the maze of red string, “This is… a lot…”

Seungmin turned to follow her, making sure she safely made it back to the entryway, “I’m sorry if you feel you have no choice. I had no idea…”

She smiled sadly. “It’s not that, Seungmin. I actually like you… getting past all of this,” she gestured at the hall behind them, “I just don’t want to feel like we’re only together because it was forced by destiny.”

“We’re not.”

Y/N scoffed, “How can you be sure?”

Seungmin shrugged, “If we were being forced, we would’ve seen the rest of our threads woven together already. They aren’t yet because The Fates are giving us a choice.”

Y/N huffed at his blase attitude towards all of this, “Do you even like me, Seungmin?”

“What?” Seungmin’s eyes widened, “Of course I do! You were so kind to me, even when you thought I was crazy and kept following you. And then, all of this, you’ve been so brave and patient. You have such a light heart and not to mention how beautiful you are. You’re ethereal to me. Just unreal. I just…” Seungmin sighed, “I won’t force you into anything for my sake when all of this was my fault to begin with.”

“I don’t want you to be alone anymore…” Y/N whispered.

“I don’t mind. I’m used to it.”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore either…” She added, stepping closer.

“Then you won’t be. We can wander together.”

[nebulablakemurphy]

Through Love And By Love (Pt. 4)

Draco Malfoy x Fem!OC

Summary: Twenty-Two years ago, Draco Malfoy used the imperius curse to slow Voldemort’s rise to power. No good deed goes unpunished. Warning: this series contains mature subject matter surrounding use of the imperius curse, reader discretion advised.

1 | 2 | 3

Rosanna wakes alone, it’s not yet morning. The clock on the bedside table reading 3:15 AM. She forces her body from the warmth of their bed, following the sound of tinkling piano keys down to the parlor.

She finds Draco there, sat at the piano, in dim candlelight.

He feels her presence before he sees her. Shoulders tensing a bit before he turns to the intruder. “Did I wake you?”

“No,” Rosanna hesitates before admitting, “I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“That makes two of us.” Draco pats the piano bench beside him.

Rosanna closes the distance between them, making herself comfortable on the oak bench that matches the glossy, black, finish of the grand piano.

Draco places a hand on her belly, his palm swiftly greeted by a kick. “That makes three of us,” he amends his previous statement. “Rambunctious little thing. Gets that from you.” Draco traces what he can only assume to be the babe's foot, across Rosanna's skin.

“They’re having a party in there.”

Draco smiles, pressing kisses to her bump. "I know, first hand, how lonely it can be growing up a Malfoy. Forced to conform to my parent's ideals. I never had many friends, just people who hung around for my name.

I think their reputation may proceed them, at school. Others might shy away, or worse, they’ll attract the wrong sort.” In truth, that’s why he’s asked for more children; more than he wants to hold them in his arms, more than he wants to see her in their tiny faces, he doesn’t want their child to be alone.

Rosanna feels the tears welling in her eyes. "People might treat them differently, we can't protect them from that. All we can do is teach them to be kind and true to themself, that they’re always loved."

"I've been thinking- it's about time they had a proper name. If there's one you have in mind, we should use it. But if not... I quite like Leo. It means-"

"Lion." She finishes for him.

"Brave and true. Any child of yours will be just that." Draco explains, fondly.

"Leo," Rosanna tests it out. The name feels right, their baby feels like a, "Leo." She says again, with finality. "So you do want to stick to constellations?"

"We don't have to." Whatever she wants.

Rosanna nods, turning her attention back to the abandoned keys.

“Do you play?” Draco wonders.

“I can play chopsticks.”

“I could teach you.”

“Sometime when I’m not half asleep.” She has nothing better to do. “Maybe you could play for me.”

“As a matter of fact, I’ve learned this one just for you.” Draco wastes no time, repositioning his hands, “feel free to sing along.”

Rosanna wonders what it’ll be, a love ballad, surely. Something deep and meaningful, destined to make her cry…but no. Not at all.

Draco plays the melody with a cheeky smirk, looking to Rosanna expectantly as he plunks out the first note of the chorus.

“So, bye, bye, Miss American Pie,” Rosanna can’t help but return his playful smile. “Drove my Chevy to The Levee, but The Levee was dry. And them good old boys were drinkin' whiskey in Rye, singin', this’ll be the day that I die.” She knocks his shoulder with her own. “Enough.”

“Very well,” Draco lets his hands fall back into his lap. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What do you want to be?”

“What do I want to be?” Rosanna’s brows furrow.

“Do you want to be a housewife? Would you rather work for the ministry? Or perhaps become a potions master? A writer? Journalist? Professor?” He pauses, “I’ve told you what I want, but those are my dreams, not yours.” Draco searches her eyes with his own. “What do you want to be?”

“Well,” Rosanna stammers, “I want to be a good mother and a good wife. I want to be close to my friends and…” She pauses, feeling a bit guilty for saying it, when she knows how hard he’s trying to make her happy. “I want to finish school and see the world. Maybe I could try out for the Holyhead Harpies, I miss quidditch.” Rosanna breathes, “more than anything, I want to be free.”

“You will be free, Ro.”

Something catches her eye, down near the place where his hands are resting. He follows her gaze…the mark.

"I'm the one who has to live with it, not you." Draco explains, clearing his throat. He never considered that it mark might bother her to look at.

"No, I wasn't-" Rosanna breaks off, seeing the exasperated look on Draco's face. "Ok, well I was looking, but it's not what you think." She explains.

"What then?" He sighs.

"It looks different, lighter." The girl explains.

"Trick of the light." He doesn't need to see it, to know it can't fade.

"Will you just look?" Rosanna insists.

"I’d rather look at you.”

“Very smooth, Malfoy," Rosanna purses her lips. "But, you're not getting off the hook that easily."

He rolls his blue eyes at her. “That’s Draco to you.”

"Or what?" Rosanna challenges. "Your father will hear about this?" She laughs, lightly, at her own joke.

"Piss off," he snorts, moving his forearm toward the light. Blinking at it in disbelief; because she's right, it's not half as dark as it was a week ago, or even a day ago.

Rosanna traces it with her finger, "am I right? Or am I right?"

"Dunno." He swallows, unsure if he's imagined it.

"Maybe you should show your Dad. I wonder if his is doing the same thing." Rosanna suggests.

"Do you often think of my father while we're alone together? Do you fancy him?" Draco cocks his head to the side, it's his turn to have a laugh.

"Eww." She crosses both arms over her chest.

"It's a fair ask." The boy shrugs. "This is the second time you've mentioned him in the past five minutes."

“I hate you."

“You love me,” Draco corrects her.

“I do, don’t I?”

The image of a young Draco dancing across her mind. Much too young for her to have known him.

By the time she realizes what's happened, or has a chance to stop, she's pushed from his mind.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Rosanna apologizes, immediately.

The trick with Legillimacy, at least in her experience, is that she can’t control if and when she sees things. Especially once she gets close to someone. Others would give an arm or leg to be born with a gift like that.

"I'm not angry, you surprised me is all." Draco stops her, feeling physically ill when Rosanna flinches away. "Don't," he chokes out, against the lump in his throat. "It’s alright." Draco insists, reverently.

"No, Draco-" Rosanna remembers the horror stories he’d told about having his mind searched, invaded by his Aunt Bellatrix when she’d taught him the art of occlumency.

"Rosanna, I want you to see me."

Her hand trembles, reaching out to touch his face, allowing the images to flood her mind once more.

Draco is five, sitting with Lucius and Narcissa. He wants to play with children his age, the only ones he's allowed are Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, they'll have to do.

Draco receives his Hogwarts letter. Lucius once again drills into him the importance of Slytherin house and how all other houses are less than.

Draco is presented with a wand by Narcissa, 'the best wand.' But seeing as it never had a chance to choose him, it takes a while to give it's allegiance.

Under his father's request, a young Draco attempts to befriend Harry Potter, who is quick to reject his outstretched hand.

Second year their rivalry continues when they become seekers for opposing houses. Calling Hermione a 'filthy little mudblood,' when she accuses Malfoy of buying his way onto the quidditch team.

Then third year, the cheeky girl with the accent. Grading his nerves during their project, worming her way into his dreams, even worse, into his heart.

His fear of rejection, fear of disappointing his parents, fear of caring for her more than he should. Jealously over her friendship with Harry and Ron, being angry for hours if one of them lean in too close or if their eyes linger too long.

The dress he’d chosen for her, fourth year. How nervous he was to ask her to the Yule Ball to begin with. Overhearing Dean Thomas and Fred Weasley debating if Rosanna was truly interested in a prat like Malfoy.

Taking a spot on the inquisitorial squad fifth year, to protect Dumbledore's Army, even though it was run by Potter. The nights spent with Rosanna, learning to produce a patronus. Thoughts of her bring the silver lion to life, bounding off the walls of his dorm room. He's not entirely surprised to learn that his patronus is the same as hers.

That Christmas being the worst of his life, the way her tears threatened his resolve. How many times he nearly crumbled and wrote her during their separation. The way the days seemed to drag on, leaving a Rosanna sized hole in his heart.

Pretending he was fine, happy even, that she never meant a thing to him. Lying to his family, biting his tongue when his father made remarks about her. Oftentimes laughing through the pain in his chest.

When Lucius is taken to Azkaban, part of Draco is relieved. The other, larger, part is devastated. Despite it all, Draco loves his father. Wanting to reach out to Ro before committing himself to Voldemort, ultimately deciding it was too dangerous.

Being ashamed when she confronts him on the train and wishing he could scrub the mark off his skin. Hating how nervous and sad Rosanna's eyes are as she leaves, almost calling her back.

Mending the vanishing cabinet, feeling hopeless all the while. Returning home for Christmas and overhearing his mother and aunt discussing the prophecy.

'It's a baby, Cissy.' Bellatrix purrs to Narcissa. ‘Born from the dirt, through he, blossoms. It’s the filthy blood from the girl’s mudblood mother.’

'He’s just a boy.' Narcissa argues.

‘Draco should be honored to serve the dark lord, as should you.’

Telling Rosanna of their fate, knowing there's nothing he can do. The anger that consumes him, when his mother confirms the pregnancy. Being unable to control his sobs, when he feels the child stir in her belly. Rosanna finally waking up as he hopes beyond all hope that she's not disgusted by him.

Instead, she asks if he's ok, if he missed her. Taking nothing for granted and living each day with her to the fullest.

Knowing that during their duel with the trio, she was going to cause a distraction, still being gutted when he hears her scream. How much he truly enjoyed waiting on her hand and foot for seven entire days.

Loving her more with each passing second. Reading up on his baby books when he can't fall asleep. Dreaming about their child, unbeknownst to Rosanna, hoping for a brown eyed, Gryffindor, with her smile.

Rosanna finally breaks their connection. Draco can be an ass when he wants to be, therefore very few people have the pleasure of truly knowing him. “Thank you.”

Lucius clears his throat, from the entryway, startling them apart. “Draco, I need a word with you.”

Draco’s father has a nasty habit of sucking all the air out of a room.

“Give us a minute.” Draco pecks a kiss to Rosanna’s cheek.

“I’ll be upstairs.” She moves to stand, squeezing Draco’s shoulder, in parting.

Lucius waits until she is out of earshot to make his move. "Let me see your mark." He extends his arm, for comparison.

Draco obeys, peering down at them. "What's it mean?”

"The Potter boy is getting stronger, destroying horcruxes surely. We should have been the ones to turn him over to the dark lord." Lucius seethes.

"He doesn't know Potter was here, unless Bellatrix told him." Draco replies.

"Don't be daft Draco, of course she's told him." Lucius knows Bellatrix's allegiance was never to them. "He's not pleased, however the child is of utmost importance."

"Why do you care?" Draco asks his father. "Why do his bidding?"

"Son, you've heard the stories-"

"I've heard stories of a great man; I have yet to see a great man. I have seen a creature, who may have been a man once. One who is vile and cruel, whose only desire is to harm. I don't understand." Draco leans forward.

"Keep your voice down." Lucius scolds him like a child.

"All my life, you were on about blood purity, how we were somehow better; more powerful than blood traitors and half bloods. You must know it's a lie. Rosanna is better than you, she's better than me, she's better than the lot of us put together. She's not going to stand with him. She is good." Draco annunciates each word.

"Have you considered what will happen if you fail the dark lord?" Lucius asks, reaching the end of his patience. "If you love Rosanna, you'll convince her to swallow her pride-"

"Pride has no part in this." Draco swallows, harshly. "I will not force her hand. I will not take the light inside of her and snuff it out."

"Do you think her lot will ever truly accept you?" Lucius tuts. "That they will simply, excuse your past actions? You will always be a suspect, they will never trust you."

Draco squares his shoulders, “she’s worth it."

"She will die for this Draco, you will die for this." Lucius steeples his hands in front of his mouth, in frustration. "I realize I've been harsh, but never because I don't love you, rather because... I do." Lucius chokes up a bit. "I beg you both; reconsider."

Part 5

[greenpidge101]

More it (book)quotes

Because I have nothing better to do :)

*Tw for graphic description of violence (Richie’s) *

Richie: here’s my lips! Mash them back against my teeth! Here’s my nose! Bloody it for sure and break it if you can! Box an ear so it swells up like a Calla flower! Split an eyebrow! Here’s my chin, go for the knock out button! Here are my eyes, so blue, and so magnified behind these hateful, hateful glasses, these horn-rimmed specs, one bow of which is held with adhesive tape. Break the specs! Drive the shards of glass into one of these eyes and close it forever! What the hell! (page 65)

Ben: Ben Hanscom had no sense of being lonely because he had never been anything but. If the condition had been new, or more localized, he might have understood, but loneliness both encompassed his life and overreached it. it’s simply was, like his double jointed thumb or the funny little jag inside one of his front teeth, the little jag his tongue began running over whenever he was nervous. (page 178)

Stanley: He wanted to tell them that there were worse things than being frightened. You could be frightened by things like almost having a car hit you while you were riding your bike or, before the Salk vaccine, getting polio. You could be frightened of the crazy man Khrushchev or of drowning if you went out over your head. You could be frightened of all those things and still function. But those things in the standpipe… He wanted to tell them that those dead boys who had lurched and shambled their way down the spiral staircase had done something worse than frighten him: they offended him (page 436)

Bill: We grew up. We didn’t think it would happen, not then, not to us. But I did, and if I go in there, it will be real: we’re all grownups now.(page 491)

Mike: Yo mamma (page 730) *I had too lol*

Sonia: I did this for you Eddie, she thought as she walked into the hospital with her head firmly up. I know you may feel a bit disappointed at first; that’s natural enough. But parents know better than their children. (Page 805)

Eddie: “Fight It!” Eddie raved at the others. “It’s just a fucking eye! Fight it! You hear me? Fight it, Bill! Kick the shit out of the sucker! Jesus Christ you fucking pussies I’m doing the Mashed Potatoes all over it AND I GOT A BROKEN ARM!” (Page 1043)

It: Little Friend… tell me, do you live all the cold dark out here? are you enjoying your grand tour of the nothingness that lies Outside? wait until you break through, Little Friend! wait until you break through to where I am! wait for that! wait for the deadlights! you’ll look and you’ll go mad… but you’ll live… and live… and live… inside them… inside Me… (page 1072)

Maturin It or Bill (I can't tell) ): (Chüd, this is Chüd, stand, be brave, be true, stand for your brother, your friends; believe, believe in all the things you have believed in, believe that if you tell the policeman you're lost he'll see that you get home safely, that there is a Tooth Fairy who lives in a huge enamel castle, and Santa Clause below the North Pole, making toys with his trove of elves,...... believe that your mother and father will love you again, that courage is possible and words will come smoothly every time; no more Losers, no more cowering in a hole in the ground and calling it a clubhouse, no more crying in Georgie's room because you couldn't save him and didn't know, believe in yourself, believe in the heat of that desire) (page 1074)

Beverly: But Beverly was now sitting with Eddie's head in her lap, cradling him. She had closed his eyes. "Go with Bill," she said. "If you let him die for nothing... if It comes back in another twenty-five years, or fifty, or even two thousand, I swear I'll... I'll haunt your ghosts. Go!" (page 1094)

[oigimi]

arthur’s sequel - chapter 2

Translation notes at the bottom. Flashbacks are in italics.

These days with Arthur were beautiful and dazzling, but soon, a bad feeling began to arise.

Charles: MC! Thanks for helping out at the orphanage today!

Vlad: The children are always happy when you visit. Perhaps it’s because of your flower-like smile.

MC: Ah, don’t mention it. But I’m glad I could help! Maybe we can bring Napoleon and Isaac next time. They’re used to working with kids, so we could ask them.

Faust: Oh, don’t they teach swordsmanship and academics? That would be perfect for athletic and curious children.

I was hanging out with Vlad, Faust, and Charles after we volunteered at the orphanage. A florist, a priest, and a doctor: all vampires, just like the residents of the mansion.

Originally, Comte and Vlad had a long-standing relationship as pureblooded vampires. Two men who love humans, they thought to resurrect some of the greatest men in history as vampires to make the world a better place. They build a door that transcends time and space itself, but their differences in mindset led them to part ways.

Vlad had plans to use the resurrected men to control human thought. But after the events at the Paris World Fair, they made up, and hold hands once more.

I’m getting closer to everyone here, so I’m glad that I can hang out with the three of them like this. My chest began to warm when I realized the change in my relationship with everyone.

MC: Ah, I wonder if we could ask Arthur to help take care of the children. He was the oldest of seven siblings, so he’s good with kids.

Charles: Speaking of Arthur, the other day… ah.

MC: Huh? What about Arthur?

Charles: It’s nothing!

Charles shook his head, but he obviously wanted to say something.

Okay, I’m getting worried now.

Faust: Charles, you slipped your mouth. MC is one of us, so let’s talk about it.

Charles: But…

MC: Please tell me, Charles. If it has to do with Arthur I want to hear it!

Vlad: MC’s mind is made up, and we can’t keep her in the dark any longer.

So, hesitantly, Charles told me.

MC: Arthur’s CHEATING?!

—-----

Faust: Be quiet in the church. (Translator note: bruh)

MC: S-Sorry…

Vlad: No one’s here but us. She’s allowed to cry and shout.

MC: No, it’s okay. I won’t do all that.

Instead of being sad by the story, I let out a shocked yelp. Apparently, Charles had seen Arthur several times going to a house call. The issue was the place… a so-called “night playground.”

Charles: I’ve seen him go in the daytime, but it’s a place where people who work in the red light district live. I wonder why he goes… But I haven’t seen what he actually does there, so maybe I’m just jumping to conclusions!

Faust: It looks suspicious to leave the mansion at night, so he starts in the day. Cunning. Just what I’d expect from a mystery author.

Charles: Doctor! Don’t say things like that!!

Charles chided an amused Faust while I reflected on Arthur’s behavior. Sure, he’s been out a lot lately. But it was to meet the publisher, so I didn’t worry about it. Like Charles said, we don’t know what he’s doing, there’s no need to worry.

MC: …Arthur isn’t cheating.

Charles and Faust: ???

MC: When we first met, Arthur had relationships with lots of women. But you look really sincere about this.

Since we fell in love, Arthur looks at me and never tears his gaze away. I refuse to doubt his love. He would never do anything to hurt me.

MC: So… Yes, I trust Arthur.

I told the three of them straight, with a smile on my face. Then, Vlad softly moved his silver hair. I narrowed my eyes.

Vlad: So he’s won your trust that much… I’m a little jealous of him. But do the other residents trust him too?

MC: Huh?

Charles: Sorry, I talked to Dazai and Isaac too…

The next day, after I heard about the cheating rumors…

Arthur: I’m hitting the town. MC, if you get lonely you can stay in my room.

MC: Hey, I’m not a child. I’m going out myself. See you later, Arthur.

Arthur: So cruel!

Laughing, Arthur gave me a kiss on the forehead and walked out the front door. When he left, the man hiding in the hallway emerged.

Dazai: Well then, Toshiko-san, Ai-kun. Let’s follow our suspect!

—-------

Shortly after Arthur left, we followed him into town. Dazai came with me, and so did Isaac for some reason.

Dazai: I heard about Arthur possibly cheating a little while ago, when I met Charles-kun in the city. This is a big deal, and I wanted to confirm the truth.

Isaac: So why am I involved?!

Dazai: You were there with me, weren’t you? And wouldn’t it feel better for Toshiko-san if she had more allies behind her?

MC: Allies? I’m not going to fight Arthur. Sorry, Issac.

Isaac: Don’t worry about it. If he really is cheating, that’s really bad.

I don’t think Arthur ever cheated. But what’s he doing if he’s really in the red light district…? I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me, but I felt it’d be wrong to be questioning Arthur while also saying I believe in him. In the end, I listened to Dazai and followed Arthur from a distance. The only thing we can do is see what’s happening with our own eyes.

Dazai: Our target’s on the move! I’ll grab Arthur’s bad deeds by the tail.

Dazai, you’re energetic today.

Arthur arrived at the mall and stepped into a store.

Dazai: Look, he’s talking to a woman. And she looks friendly.

MC: Oh, that’s Caroline. She owns the jewelry store.

Isaac: A woman came out from the next store over. She’s talking to him too.

MC: That woman is Valerie and she owns the boutique. This isn’t weird at all!

These are all women I know. I need to chime in and clear up any misunderstandings.

Isaac: Typical of Arthur. Lots of female friends…

That’s true, but he’s a nice guy who solves mysteries around town. It’s natural he has lots of friends. He knows how to treat women too, so of course they swarm him. Even if he doesn’t try to, he’s a natural charmer.

As I thought about it more, Arthur waved at the shopkeepers and walked away.

—--------

Following Arthur still, we entered a dim back alley.

Dazai: Hmm… If we keep going this way, we’ll definitely hit the red light district…

Isaac: Is that so? Arthur, why…?

[CHOICE OF 3: I chose “I’m sure he’ll stop by the bar.”]

MC: I’m sure he’s just stopping by the bar. There’s lots of places around here that serve alcohol, right?

Isaac: Arthur’s the kind of guy to wander around drinking. If Dazai is chaperoning, it’ll be fine.

Dazai: Ah, the finger is pointed to me!

MC: Anyway, it’s still not decided whether he’s che– AH!

???: Oh, sorry there- Huh?

I bumped into someone who was turning the corner, and when I looked up to see who it was…

Theodorus: A bad dog, rootless grass**, and Isaac. What are you doing in a place like this?

MC: Theo!

Dazai: Well this is quite the turn of events. Was Arthur having a fling with Theodorus?

Theodorus: What the hell are you talking about? You’re disgusting. I was visiting a painter who lives nearby.

Theo, genuinely taken aback, showed us the canvas in his arms.

Theodorus: It seems you all are following in Dazai’s footsteps.

Isaac: I mean…

(After explaining)

Theodorus: I see. So Arthur’s having an affair, huh?

When I explained why we were following Arthur, Theo nodded thoughtfully.

Isaac: We’ve been following him all day but we still don’t know what the situation is. Arthur’s completely in love with MC, isn’t he?

Dazai: Their passion is so hot it could boil tofu.

Theodorus: Well I’m not sure. Arthur is an author who’s always in heat.***

…Theo?

Theodorus: Humans can’t change their nature that quickly. Guess I’ll just have to force him to drink herbal tea until he vomits.

The way Theo spoke almost confirmed Arthur was cheating.

Arthur: Hey now, Theo. Don’t say things to upset MC.

MC and Isaac: Arthur??!!

—------

Arthur: And you’re gonna include herbal tea in my torture?

Arthur, who had been following us for a while, appeared from behind, and Isaac and I opened our eyes wide in shock.

Theo: I knew it. You’ve known the whole time they were following you, right Arthur?

Arthur: Yup. I turned around and heard you saying such awful things, so I just came out.

Dazai: I thought I was going to grab you by the tail, but it was you who got me from behind! Ahaha.

Typical Arthur. Two steps ahead of us, knowing everything.

MC: Well… I’m really sorry for following you, Arthur.

Arthur: You don’t have to apologize. Why did Dazai get in on this anyway?

Dazai: These things are hard to talk about, even between lovers. I wanted to prove your innocence and help MC.

Arthur shrugged his shoulders as Dazai simply returned an easy-going smile. In retrospect, Dazai wasn’t surprised when Arthur found us earlier. Did he expect to be caught this whole time…? If that’s the case, maybe he wanted to create an opportunity for us to talk it out.

Dazai: We can agree a lover’s quarrel is so bad a dog wouldn’t eat it, and leave it to them to talk about it. Now, let’s get Isaac a delicious apple as a thank-you~

Isaac: Hey, don’t wrap your arm around me! And stop talking about apples!

Theodorus: What a mess, Isaac.

Theo gave a sorry look to Isaac and turned around.

Theodorus: Well? Cleared your name, great mystery author?

Saying that, the three of them left the alley.

Arthur: Dazai, Isaac, and even Theo. They really don’t trust me, do they?

MC: Arthur, I…

It wasn’t like I didn’t trust him. I tried to tell him, but he pressed his finger to my mouth.

Arthur: No more on that. Now what conclusions have you drawn following me? Let me hear your reasoning, great detective.

—----

Translation notes:

**Theo calls Dazai “nenashi-gusa” (根無し草) as a nickname, which means someone who just kind of wanders and does whatever. Literally means “rootless grass.”

***This line was so awkward bc the literal translation was something like “Arthur is a mystery writer always chasing estrus”... Theo was using dog terms to say Arthur’s super damn horny so that’s what I came up with. Idk man

I hate cheating plots T-T I knew Arthur would never do that to MC but the idea hurts my heart so bad. Also why was everyone opping so hard against Arthur… I know they’re all looking out for MC but damn, especially Theo… ok until next time o7

[dootznbootz]

I know this may seem strange, but I think everyone deserves a kiss from the homies to say good night. I think your head canons capture that very well!

I wish I had a friendship like Menelaus and Odysseus though… Well, I do. But they live so far away :,(

Thank you!🥹 And I feel ya 😔 I so badly wanna send my homies who live far away sweets and nice meals and stuff ;~; (honestly in some ways, I think it's very sweet that people can be very close regardless of distance though, you know? 🥺 Ofc, I wanna hang out irl but in a way, it goes to show that friendship doesn't necessarily need to be irl to be REAL you know?)

I'm not too upset about the "Menelaus and Odysseus should fuck nasty!" Anon (if you're out there anon, as I said, write it if you want, but this is a SFW blog for the most part. don't send stuff like that HERE xD ) I mean, I did find it kind of funny in the "um, okay???" confused sort of way but it IS kind of sad that the fandom is... vERY sexual sometimes. 😅

And I think WAYYY too much stuff puts emphasis on romance/sex in many ways and portrays it as "the most important" and/or the "final step" in any friendship. Or even just "Oh? They care about each other? They HAVE to be fucking then!" Friendship being the "final step" of a relationship doesn't make it lesser!

Like, I know I'm kind of weird in how I'm kind of a "If it's not canon, then it's just friends." most of the time but idk, xD I REALLY care about my friends so with the "Friends don't look at each other like that", I'm confused as "I look at friends like that? and there's nothing romantic about it??? What type of friends do you have if you don't look at each other like that???"

And with Menelaus and Odysseus, they're so fun to write about as they're different in personality but they understand each other. I love them both as they're so similar but so different and lksdj (idk I talk about it more here.) Both being hurt by one another with Odysseus' "I pretended to be mad to not help" and Menelaus having the war in the first place, they're hurt but also are thinking "...I would have done the same if I was in your position." As their wives and children are the most important to them. And they both know that while they care about each other,

"You're my dearest friend but my family will always come before you. I don't feel bad about trying to dodge the draft." "Ditto. I don't feel bad about dragging you to help me. Let's go cuddle and cry."

And they get comfort by knowing the other understands that. They both need their time to ramble and cry about their loves and kids. As they ARE lonely and scared. Friendship isn't less meaningful than a romantic/sexual relationship. I also have them as friends since before they got married so their friendship goes way back as well.

Like I sometimes get worried about scenes I wanna write because "will readers make this weird?" when that's not my intention at ALL.

Idk :P Have mini half-assed snippet anon! (wrote this very quick a while back)

Context: Palamedes said something and Odysseus is drunk and angry and Menelaus is trying to calm things down.

Odysseus scoffed and swayed a bit. Lightweight. "And what about Paris?" He spat. Menelaus snapped. "That is different. He is an enemy-" "AND PALAMEDES ISN'T MINE?!" Odysseus' straining voice hurled itself at him as he was now yelling in Menelaus' face. A baby's wail echoed throughout the camp. The loud little lungs of Greater Ajax's young son, Eurysaces, cried out as he was awoken by loud yelling… The two fathers instinctively whipped towards the sound, stunned still. Odysseus' face, twisted up in anger as tears gushed from his eyes, went slack. The shadow of a woman in the torchlight moved throughout the tent a ways away. Picking up her child, soothing him… It's been so long since Menelaus' has seen his children. Their children. Hermione was 9 and Megapenthes was 5 when Helen was kidnapped. Menelaus used to be able to pick them both up in his arms, lifting them alternatively as they laughed and asked to be taken higher…She was 13 and he was 9 now… Could he still do that? A bush of red-brown pressed against Menelaus' chest, curtaining Odysseus' face as he looked down. "I miss my baby…" he whimpered, leaning on him. "I want my baby…" Menelaus squeezed his friend tightly to him, blinking back tears of his own. Odysseus shook with more sobs. "He's not even a baby anymore but he… He's mine." He weakly slammed a bloody fist into Menelaus' chest and raised his head. "She's not a bitch! ...How could he even call her that…?" Menelaus swallowed a sob, rubbing Odysseus' back.

The Palamedes situation is more complex than this (it's definitely not black and white) but it's a big emotional moment. :')

[motheatenscarf]

Okay, we're 6 episodes in now and I wanted to wait and make sure the first 3 eps weren't a fluke, but they weren't.

I am really enjoying S2 of TLoVM so far!

It's still good!

S1 had a rough start, but like, pilots are hard. I get it. Selling people on this world and these characters is a lot, setting the right tone is hard. I don't even think they botched it, I think it was just awkward for those first few episodes, but by the end of the Briarwood arc they really proved they can make a worthwhile story out of this with fucking gorgeous animation and solid character work.

S2 continues to impress me in terms of animation, I complained that the one dragon of S1 along with a few undead warg looking things were janky as fuck and looked terrible. Not the case anymore! The Chroma Conclave are CG and they are GORGEOUS, both in design and the way they move, I'm so glad they gave them the attention they need! The Sphynxes looked a little wonky, but in a way that implied maybe they were made of stone, and they're not here for that long anyway, so it's nothing that doesn't work well enough to get you through until they don't matter anymore.

My one nitpicky ultra critical complaint remains what it's always been; character talk too fucking much when they could just shut up and trust their audience to put two and two together.

I know that's like... a petty thing to complain about, but god it annoys me. It shouldn't! It's not like this is trying to be high art or anything! It's a fun dumb adventure story with focuses on action, horror, and comedy, and 2/3 of those it nails every time! It just bugs me that they make crude jokes, they curse, they have gore out the fucking whazoo, they are clearly branding themselves as a Grownup Show For Adults, so the way some of the unnecessary dialogue holds people's hands through scenes like they are small children who don't have any kind of understanding of visual language just... annoys me.

Spoilers below the cut for the most egregious example of this specific gripe;

Okay, so Scanlan being the one to "wound" the Sphynx was something I saw coming a mile away. That's not a bad thing, I've said before if a narrative has done its job, you know what's coming because you've been paying attention to the themes and foreshadowing. I don't remember this being in C1, but I barely remember this part of C1, so that's not saying much, everything between the Briarwood arc and Westruun kinda blurs together for me. But! I knew that it was gonna be Scanlan and that he'd do his bard cutting words shit and wound the Sphynx by reminding him of Osysa. And he did! And it was a sweet moment, I liked that we see the effect it has on the Sphynx as he looks sad and cries. I am a human adult who understands simple emotional cues, I can see he is wounded. The fucking Sphynx does not then with his words need to tell me "You have done what no other has before, you have wounded me; you have wounded my heart." I know that! Scanlan knows that! We saw him crying!

The dialogue that follows is, y'know, clumsy, but I get why they have Scanlan say with his words that he is lonely even though everything in the narrative is beating us over the head about it. But god the whole "Oh, you have wounded me!" thing was just. It irritated me. Just have the Sphynx cry and THEN say, "You must know great love in your life to understand such pain as this." That's it! That's all we need!

It just bugs me!

And it shouldn't!

And I know it!

I'm fully aware how petty I'm being but my god, if you are making a grown up show for adults, trust your audience to be able to discern that a SAPIENT BEING THAT IS CRYING. IS EMOTIONALLY WOUNDED. For FUCK'S SAKE.

Anyway, A- so far, the animation really is amazing and the characters and world are a lot of fun. It's fun! It's fun and worthwhile and good and doesn't try to be anything more than what it needs to be, which is good, I'm just insane and impossible to please.

[csaventing]

Tw Idk if this is okay to vent here if not you can delete and tw for mention of (non-sexual) animal abuse. All my sexual abusers were 18 and younger and it all happened when I was 18 and younger. Like I had a romantic relationship as a teenager that involved abuse I was 17 he was 18, 2 boys when I was little kept forcibly touching me as I tried to stop them and also made me watch them hurt animals which I just dissociated from most the time, my brother forcibly raped me when we were children on multiple occasions and emotionally abused me, 2 of my cousins also one who was 7 years older and the other was a decade older both coerced me into sex as a child and all I remember was crying cos it was painful and uncomfortable and hiding or covering my face. And I felt bad cos they had bad childhoods and were lonely teenagers who probably got into porn too young. A girl I grew up with psychologically, sexually and emotionally abused me and the adults around us helped/enabled her with it and would scream at me for not letting her hurt me. All I’m capable of is feeling a “sexual attraction” towards them. I literally cannot feel sexual attraction towards anyone I meet I don’t even know if I’m ace-spec or not, I can’t get off unless I think of my brother, cousins, that girl, or those boys. I literally cannot become lubricated unless I fantasize about them.

How could so many children and teenagers do that? How many cases of CSA are actually minors perpetrating cos that number must be fucking high.

One of them apologized, another looked sorry but didn’t say anything I should’ve let him cos I think he would’ve, one of them said nothing ever happened and I’m making it the fuck up, another used darvo on me, and another said he was entitled to hurting me cos he hates women, and the other said he did do it but doesn’t care and wants to “have sex” some more cos I’m “so sexy” and when he grabbed my hips and pushed it into his not too long ago (I’m 23) I became immediately lubricated and so turned on I stood frozen for god knows idk maybe like 10 seconds? And I felt I almost climaxed. How?? Why?? Same thing with that girl I grew up with who used darvo on me she also lubricated me so quick by getting physically close to me… Why can’t I do that with the love of my life instead? Does that mean I absued them since my body seemingly liked it? Or is it just a trauma arousal response? Sorry this was long you can ignore.

None of that is your fault and none of it should ever have happened.

Regarding the arousal I would definitely think it is a trauma arousal response. It isn’t uncommon for people who have experienced CSA to think of previous abusers when getting off either. You are not alone.