#considering describing all my stories like this from now on

[azalearanger]

*puts on conspiracy theory hat*

I know it is written somewhere that jrrt never intended for Gil-galad to be the son of Fingon, but I have found something that made me reconsider it:

So i'm reading Beren and Lúthien, and theres this small section (part of an excerpt from the Lay of Leithian) describing the northern landscape approaching Angband:

" Once wide and smooth a plain was spread, / where King Fingolfin proudly led / his silver armies on the green, / his horses white, his lances keen; / his helmets tall of steel were hewn; / his shields were shining as the moon. "

And who is Fingolfin? That's right, the father of Fingon.

Now you might already be seeing what I was seeing, but I when I read this, I was like hmmmm why does this sound familiar??

So we all remember the poem "The Fall of Gil-galad" yes? The one Bilbo translated into common speech and that Sam recited on Weathertop in Fellowship? Here's the second stanza:

" His sword was long, his lance was keen. / His shining helm afar was seen; / the countless stars of heaven's field / were mirrored in his silver shield. "

Am I going crazy? Maybe! But there sure are a lot of similarities in the language here....

UPDATE: after writing all this above, I peeked at the Tolkien Gateway Wiki and discovered that Tolkien did in fact recycle phrasing from the Lay for the poem in the Fellowship, so my point may be moot BUT we go on:

I don't think there's an "in-story" author for the Lay (is the Lay as a text/poem canon within legendarium/tolkien universe? Like is it something the characters know?), other wise I would have just said the in-story authors of these two poems were probably just Gilgalad son-of-Fingon son-of-Fingolfin truthers.

But since the Ley seems to just exist as an external narrative (as in, it doesn't seem to be a text that exists within the story like the Fall of Gilgalad does), that tells me it kinda reflects what Tolkien himself was thinking. So maybe he just recycled the phrasing because it sounded nice, or MAYBE he recycled it because he was considering the link between Fingolfin and Ereinion Gilgalad.

UPDATE UPDATE: A few pages later in Beren and Lúthien we get this:

" In that vast shadow once of yore / Fingolfin stood: his shield he bore / with field of heaven's blue and star / of crystal shining pale afar. "

AGAIN the word similarities with the second stanza of TFoGg, but also with the last two lines of the third stanza:

" for into darkness fell his star / in Mordor where the shadows are. "

Well, if you've read this far, thank you for following my conspiracy theory literary analysis. Am I a Gil-galad son of Fingon son of Fingolfin truther? Maybe! Who knows??

[sleepyparalysisdmon]

2 Minus 1 - Act Two

Seungcheol is doing good without you. Really good, in fact! He’s got a great job, has his own apartment, and has many friends surrounding him. He’s even done some dating in the three years that you’ve been gone. On some blissful days, you don’t even cross his mind. But when you reappear in his life, he has to come to terms with the fact that he might not be doing as good as he thought he was. 

Genres: ANGST with a little bit of fluff here and there.

Word count: 6.4k

Requested? Yes!

You can find the series masterlist here.

Seungcheol stretches with a groan as soon as he hangs up the phone. He’s worked through the normal lunch hour and normally wouldn’t do that, but the client he needed to speak with is in a different time zone and he said he was flexible. It’s not a lie, but still, his stomach grumbles loudly at the thought of food, or rather the smell that’s wafting into his office when the door opens. 

“Man, am I happy to see you,” he says jokingly as Minghao sets a styrofoam box on the corner of his desk. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan have piled in as well, making themselves comfortable on the couch in the corner and in the chairs in front of Seungcheol’s desk. They’re incredibly casual considering he’s their manager. They go out for dinner and drinks regularly, even on the weekends, and aren’t afraid to poke fun at each other outside of meetings with higher ups. He considers them friends, really. Friends that prop their feet up on his desk or lie down on his couch at 1pm for a nap. Seungcheol’s too busy stuffing his face to get after them about any of it right now. 

“How was the meeting?” Minghao asks. Objectively, he’s the most responsible of his team and Seungcheol often delegates to him when he can’t handle something himself, and is always assured that Minghao will handle it with grace. Seungkwan, Vernon, and Chan look totally unconcerned about the meeting that will impact their future workload right now. They’ll buckle down when they have to, no doubt, but today is not the day. 

“Fine. They have a few more requests for the contract, so I added them to the list for a few weeks from now.” Seungcheol doesn’t care if they can understand him through bites. He’ll have to repeat all of this in front of his supervisor and them tomorrow anyway.

“Oh! Speaking of which, guess who we ran into?” Chan pipes up. Seungcheol shrugs. He doesn’t feel like guessing and it doesn’t look like he has to wait long because the three youngest members look excited. “Your friend, Y/N. The one you introduced us to on your birthday? She works in contracts now.”

Seungcheol pauses. Stops chewing all together. Swallows. Drops his chopsticks. And drops his head into his hands. “Oh my god,” he mumbles. 

There’s a long pause around the room before Vernon carefully asks, “Is that a bad thing? I thought you two were friends. Did I misread that?”

Seungcheol is still groaning. “Why me? Why now? What did I do to deserve this?”

Minghao’s eyes widen, and then he’s standing up, closing Seungcheol’s office door so this little breakdown isn’t heard by anyone else. “Okay, what’s the deal?” Seungcheol doesn’t respond and Minghao says his name a little more forcefully. 

Seungcheol sighs, sitting back up though he looks distressed. His phone rings and he lets it go to voicemail. “It’s a long story,” he says, hoping that they’ll have a short attention span today.

“What? Do you guys have history or something?” Seungkwan asks. When Seungcheol is silent, Seungkwan simply mumbles, “Oh.”

“You know, I thought it was a little suspicious that you didn’t actually describe someone you’ve known your whole life as a friend. We just made the assumption that she was,” Minghao starts. “Tell us,” he all but demands.

“No,” Seungcheol huffs. “Go back to work.” No one moves a muscle, staring at him expectantly. Vernon even appears to be getting more comfortable on the couch. Seungcheol huffs again. “Fine. We used to date. It’s awkward now. End of story.”

Minghao nods, humming. “So it didn’t end well, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs at the man he considers to be his best friend nowadays. “What don’t you get about ‘end of story’?” 

“Oh, we get it. We just don’t care,” Seungkwan sasses. “Now what’s the rest of that story? There has to be more.”

Resigned to the fact that they won’t be leaving him alone to crawl in a hole and die anytime soon, Seungcheol leans back in his chair, arms crossed and food forgotten. Y/N had that affect on him, forgetting about food and sleep and everything else important. The phone rings again and he ignores it. Over the ringing, he starts telling them the story. 

He’s known her literally since he was born. Their fathers are friends and Seungcheol and Y/N happened to be born a day apart. They were inseparable for their whole lives and started dating when they were in college after he'd pined for an embarrassingly long time. Then came the news that she’d be moving for grad school. Seungcheol admits he hadn't taken it well and couldn’t maintain contact with her once she left. And now she's moved back and every interaction they’ve had to have so far has been totally suffocating to him. But, they share a ton of mutual friends and those interactions are unavoidable.

There’s a few beats of silence before Seungkwan runs his mouth again. “Ah. So you're not over it, then.”

Anger floods Seungcheol’s veins. “What?! It’s been over three years. Of course, I’m over it. I’m better off, in fact,” he insists vehemently. No one says anything and Seungcheol’s lips are falling into a small pout. “It’s just that it’s awkward now. We spent every second together for over 20 years before she left and now I don’t feel like I even know her.”

Chan shrugs. “Well, she’s back. Just get to know her again. I mean, people can change a lot in a few years, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be friends again.” He makes it sound so simple and it makes Seungcheol’s head feel like it might explode. 

“No, I won’t be doing that,” he snaps, frustration bleeding into every word. 

Minghao nods, shrugging. “Fine, don’t fix a life long friendship,” he says evenly and it takes Seungcheol aback a bit. “But can you be civil? We’ll have to work with her department often when this contract freeze is over. She might even take the lead on some of them.”

Seungcheol chews on the inside of his cheek for a long moment before finally saying, “Yeah, I’ll be civil.” Not that they needed to know, but the last thing he really wanted to be was mean to you. He just wasn’t sure how friendly he could be if it would twist the knife that you left in his chest. 

~

It’s been a week since you started working here, and Seungcheol has managed to not see you yet. Not that it’s stopped his team from asking about it every single day. ‘Have you seen Y/N yet?’ ‘Have you talked to her?’ ‘Just ran into Y/N downstairs!’ He’s been brusque about responding to these little questions and comments, doing his best to appear busy, although his email is slow and his calendar is pretty empty. 

It’s Minghao who eventually calls him out for the avoidance. “You know I can see your calendar, right? And you haven’t sent me anything to work on, which usually means you have a good handle on the things on your plate. So how long are you going to avoid seeing her? She’s quite literally below our feet.”

Forever, he wants to say at first. He shrugs and says he has some things he needs to get done so Minghao will let him breathe. But the comment gets him thinking because he never would have said that before. Not in a million years - he wasn’t attached to you for over 20 years for nothing. He’s not sure he really means it now. And everything else aside, not popping in to say hi to someone he’s known for over two decades and is now working on the floor right below him is not so civil. It’s only a matter of time before he runs into you in the hallway, cafeteria, or elevator. And there’s that pesky meeting on his calendar with your department. 

So he stops by the tenth floor on his way back up from lunch, knocking on the door after a mini pep talk. Seokmin turns from his computer, greeting him. Seungcheol likes Seokmin. He doesn’t know anyone who doesn’t. “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

“Not bad. Pretty light load right now,” Seokmin answers. ���I hear you’ll be changing that soon.”

Seungcheol shrugs good-naturedly with a chuckle. “Yeah, unfortunately, it’s part of my job description.” His eyes wander to the other side of the office and he knows it’s yours. Last month, when he stopped by to ask Seokmin a question, the desk was totally empty with not even a desk chair behind it. Now, it’s got a few succulents, a couple pictures, a cup of brightly colored pens. “Is Y/N in today?”

Seokmin’s eyes perk up and then Seungcheol hears a little cough behind him. He steps back so you can step inside. “Looking for me?” You give him a little smile, setting a coffee mug on Seokmin’s desk and then one on your own.

It kind of burns him up inside how casual you are, but he doesn’t know what he expected, so he clears his throat. “Yeah. I heard you were working here now, so I thought I’d come say hi and welcome you, all that stuff.”

“Oh! That’s nice of you, Seungcheol,” you say in your typical sweet voice, but the words burn him up too. Particularly his full first name. He was never ‘Seungcheol’ before. Always ‘Cheol’. The newfound formality makes him squirm. 

“How are you settling in? Is Seokmin being a good roommate?” Seungcheol tries to keep his voice light, teasing even. 

Something in your eyes light up and it kind of feels like a gut punch, because in so many ways it feels the same and it so many ways it feels like it never could be the same again. “Oh, Seokmin’s great. We’re besties now.” You pass a friendly smile to Seokmin, who returns it. Yeah, Seungcheol likes Seokmin, but something deep, deep inside him wishes you didn’t. He feels stupid for that. You continue on. “And as for settling in, there hasn't been much to settle into yet. I hear we’ll get something to work on next week though?”

Seungcheol nods. “Yeah. We’ll see you guys and Mrs. Jang next week to talk about contract requirements. Nothing crazy. It’s pretty run of the mill stuff. We’ll see how much you learned in law school.” He hopes it comes off as a joke and not an insult, but he sees the corner of your lips twitch downwards and he knows it’s landed wrong. He’s way too proud and perhaps a little too bitter still to apologize. 

Still, you shrug. “It wasn’t cheap or easy, so I hope I learned something.”

That awkwardness that he thinks he’ll never get used to with you starts to seep back in, so he makes an excuse that he needs to get back upstairs, waving to you and Seokmin on the way out. Back at his desk, he slumps, head on his desk again. That definitely twisted the knife. 

~

The meeting twists the knife too. He always knew you were sweet. He’d watch you effortlessly win people over with your charm all his life and had never felt an ounce of bitterness about it. But still, he’s surprised when you win over his supervisor within just a few minutes before the meeting even starts. Mr. Park is a hard ass and it took Seungcheol nearly two years of tireless work to win his approval and get the management position that he has now. You won him over simply by mentioning your most recent alma mater and speaking fondly of it. Turns out that Mr. Park went there as well for his MBA. Small world. 

Beyond that, you don’t say much in this meeting. It’s up to Seungcheol’s team to present the contract requirements and hand them off to your department, and it’s a blessedly short meeting because your department will need some time to draft things up and gather questions. Seungcheol takes a long lunch after the meeting to walk around the block and work off the feelings that are bubbling inside of him. He also ignores his teams’ stares when he passes by their office on the way back to his. They aren’t subtle about how every single one of them peer over their cubicle walls like they’ve been waiting for him to come back. 

It’s almost time to go home when Minghao comes in by himself. “So. That went well this morning, didn't it?” He starts conversationally, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of Seungcheol’s desk. 

“Sure,” Seungcheol says shortly, trying to wrap up an email. “Jang’s team has always been good. I didn't expect any trouble.”

“Oh, I’m not concerned about that. I was talking about you being civil with your ex… whatever you guys are. You were very smooth, actually. Not that I’m supposed to tell you, but the kids were taking bets.”

Seungcheol stops typing, looking out of the corner of his eye. “Don’t you guys have work to do? I’m sure there's a rule about betting in the personnel manual anyway.” He doesn’t bother reminding Minghao that he's only a year or two older than any of them and calling them ‘kids’ is a stretch, regardless of how much more responsibility Minghao pulls around here.

“No,” Minghao chuckles. “You haven’t assigned us anything this week. They’ve been playing darts for days. Tournament style. A few people from other departments have joined.” Seungcheol rolls his eyes because he most certainly told them to take that dart board home. He doesn’t want to explain to his supervisor or anyone else really. “Anyway, it was a bet about paying for lunch. No money is directly trading hands. I looked it up, it’s technically allowed.”

Seungcheol shakes his head, hitting send and then leaning back in his seat. “Don’t make me go to HR to find out if you're right, Hao. There’s a difference between ‘allowed’ and ‘loophole’.” Minghao looks totally unaffected by the threat, so Seungcheol moves on. “Who won the bet then?”

“Chan. Seungkwan bet that you’d be mean. Vernon bet that you’d look totally lovesick. Chan bet that you’d be avoidant.” 

“Avoidant?” Seungcheol reels back. He can’t deny the urge to be both mean and lovesick, but avoidant? “How did that one win? I sat across from her. I talked to her.” 

“No,” Minghao shakes his head. “You at no point spoke directly to her. Didn’t really look at her either.” Seungcheol falls silent because he’s not sure what to say. “I understand that you didn’t want to be honest with the kids, but you know I can keep a secret. So what’s really going on?”

He feels like he’s 22 again, sitting at the table in his crappy student apartment, about to get a knife shoved in his chest. If only he could go back and give himself a heads up not to think too hard about the future. He’s looking out of the window behind him when he starts talking. “You know, I was planning to propose? Maybe not right away, but we’d talked about moving in together and it felt right, you know? Then she rips my heart out and moves across the world a few weeks later. Never mind the fact that we’d been attached at the hip for our whole lives. It would have hurt without the dating.” 

Minghao hums sympathetically. “I can understand some bitterness.” It’s not some, he wants to say. He’s been choking on it for three years if he thinks about it for too long. “How long had you been into her?”

Seungcheol shakes his head, shrugging. “A decade? I don’t know. It was always going to be her, it seems. Which makes everything harder.”

“Makes some sense,” Minghao says, and Seungcheol snaps his head to him, looking confused. “Of what little dating you’ve done since then, nothing has lasted. You didn’t seem that interested in the first place, really. It was always going to be her and it’s still her. That’s okay, really, if you just come to terms with it.”

That bitterness is constricting his throat more and more by the second. “How the fuck do I come to terms with that? I’m angry, Hao. It’s been three years and I’m still angry.”

“So, tell her,” Minghao shrugs. Seungcheol scoffs again, getting sick of how casual his friends are about this. “No, I’m serious. Lay it all out on the table so maybe you two can salvage something out of this awkward situation. You’re telling me you don’t want to recover anything with someone you’ve known your entire life? Nothing at all? You’d prefer to pretend she doesn't exist?”

He doesn’t know. He couldn’t be your friend when you left, and he doesn't think he can be your friend now. The possibility of being more with you again now that you’re back flashes through his mind like you two can pick up where you left off and he wants to light the idea on fire. No, he wants to light himself on fire before he gives you the chance to hurt him like that again. Still, he hates the longing that he feels, thinking about what it was like when it was good. It was good for a long time, even when it was unrequited. 

Minghao must realize that he won’t get an answer right now, so he slaps the edge of the desk lightly, standing up. “Come on. We’re going out for drinks. You look like you could use one and you’ve probably just been wiggling your mouse all day anyway.”

Seungcheol locks his computer and grabs his things. He could use a few drinks, actually, as long as his friends can avoid this conversation in front of him. 

~

Seungcheol gets up early on Saturday. Normally, he would sleep in and just do a few things around his apartment that were neglected throughout the week. Maybe go out with his friends later that night. But he’s been tense for weeks now, snapping at little things only to want to wallow in despair later when alone in his office. Minghao’s bluntly told him he’s being unpleasant, so he’s been hitting the gym harder lately to work out some of this frustration. He plans to go put himself through a long, excruciating work out since he has the time for it today. 

He runs for way longer on the treadmill than he normally would, but there’s something satisfying about the thud of his feet hitting the track that keeps him going until he feels unsteady. He’s dripping sweat by the time he gets to the weights and he stacks them high, going heavier than he usually would. Each pump of iron reduces some of the stress and by the time he walks out, he’s drop dead tired and aching all over, but his mind is blissfully blank. 

He stops by a coffee shop around the corner and gets his order to-go. When he comes out of the elevator on his apartment floor, he comes to a halt fast. There’s a couch in the way. Must be a new neighbor, he thinks. Someone moved out a few months ago and the unit next to his has been vacant since. 

Seungcheol sips his coffee, patiently watching the couch move. And nearly spits out that coffee all over the couch when he sees whose carrying the tail end of the couch. “Mingyu? What are you doing here?” He asks, surprised. 

Mingyu’s eyes are bright, despite the struggle of maneuvering the couch. “Hey, Cheol! It’s move in day!” 

“Oh!” Seungcheol cries out. “You’re moving in? Is Wonwoo coming with you?” 

“No!” Wonwoo’s voice echoes down the hall. He must be on the front end of the couch. “I would never want to be your neighbor. We aren’t the ones moving anyway,” he laughs. 

Seungcheol can step out of the elevator now and trails behind them. “Mean. I thought we were friends,” he laughs. “Who’s my new neighbor then? Anyone I know?” He kind of assumes it is since he shares so many mutual friends with them. 

“Help us get this around the corner and find out,” Mingyu grunts. Seungcheol drops his things off in his apartment and meets them next door, helping them angle the furniture into the doorway. 

The couch is inside the main room of the apartment when Wonwoo finally yells out. “Hey, come tell us where you want this!” 

“Coming!” A voice calls out from down the hall. Seungcheol’s stomach drops. Who else would Wonwoo and Mingyu be moving in, now that he thinks about it? You barrel around the corner, lugging a box in your hands. It lands on the floor in the corner with a thud. You look surprised to see him. “Oh, hey, Cheol. Joining the move in party?”

He knows you're not serious, but still he shrugs because he's at a loss for words. Wonwoo’s clearing his throat to bring the focus back to the task at hand. You gesture to a particular spot and Wonwoo and Mingyu slide it into place. “That's the last of the big stuff,” Mingyu announces. “Just boxes left now.” He turns to Seungcheol. “Got plans or are you up for a few trips? Y/N has promised beer and pizza as payment.”

Seungcheol doesn’t give a shit about beer or pizza or payment. He’s spiraling a little because he just started feeling better after a long work out, damn it! But he’s never been known to turn down helping you, and he could really use a second work out now. So he makes multiple trips downstairs to the truck, helping them get everything in. And he does stay for a beer and a couple slices of pizza, but is really relieved when he gets a message from Chan asking if anyone wants to go out for drinks. He does, if only to have a good reason to escape your apartment. 

~

There’s a knock on his door on Thursday night. When he opens it, his eyes flare in surprise. You look a little awkward waiting outside. He’s done some serious avoiding since you moved in on Saturday and either you’ve let him or you’re doing your own avoiding up until now. Still, he gives you an awkward smile. “Hey, Y/N. What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you,” you start, shifting from foot to foot. “I just checked the mail and found a note that a package was delivered, but I think it might have actually come to you? Did you happen to get anything?”

He holds the door open, gesturing for you to step inside. “I got something, but haven't looked at it yet. Come in and I’ll check.”

You trail after him to his small dining room table that resembles more of a desk, what with the clutter of mail, an assortment of snacks, and a laptop. Seungcheol’s kept his second room as a spare bedroom because his friends like to crash here when they go out, so this has become an impromptu workspace over the years. Still, he tries to subtly organize things as he reaches for the small package, picking it up to read the label. “Oh yeah, this is for you,” he says, handing it over. 

“Thanks,” you say, relieved. An awkward beat passes and you look like you might bail now that you have what you came here for. But Seungcheol opens his mouth first for some unknown reason.

“How are you settling in?” 

Your shock is clear for a split second but you recover quickly. “Oh, it’s fine. Nicer than the apartment I had back in California, that's for sure. Thanks for asking.”

“Of course.” He’s surprised by how he means it. “Let me know if I can help with anything as you get unpacked.”

You don't recover from your shock this time. “You’d… do that? Help me, I mean.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Y/N, when have I ever not helped you? I’ve been doing that since before we both could walk.” 

Your eyes look a little watery as you bite your lip. It’s a look he’s seen before and it tugs at his heartstrings a little. “I just figured things might have changed too much for that to be true anymore, you know? I would understand if it has.”

Your acceptance that he might not want to be in your life anymore twists the knife more than any of your casualness since you’ve moved back. It makes him angry because he never wanted space from you in the first place. Sternly he says, “It hasn’t changed. Not like that anyway. Just call or come over, okay?” 

After a few beats, you finally nod. “Thanks, Cheol. And thanks for the package. I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing. Have a good night, okay?” He watches you close the door behind you on your way out, but he doesn’t move for a long time. It’s hours later while he’s lying in bed when he remembers. He grabs his phone off the charger, unblocking you on everything. It’s kind of hard for you to reach out for help if he doesn’t do that. And he kind of hopes you will call, even if it just for a package mixed up in the mail. Even if it hurts to be around you, because  Seungcheol realizes Minghao’s been right with all of his lectures lately. He should really try to salvage something with you.

~

You send him a text the following Sunday. Initially, you’re trying to make sure he still has the same number - which he does. Then you ask if he’s up for hanging some things on the wall for you. You say you’ll feed him as payment, but that has so little to do with him sliding on shoes and walking next door at 10am. You actually look happy to see him when you open your door, not just neutral like you have been since moving back. 

“Hey, Cheol. Come on in.” Once he’s in and his shoes are off, you’re leading him to your kitchen. “Thanks for doing this. Wonwoo’s threatened me not to climb on anything, which would make it nearly impossible for me to do this myself.”

This brings some levity to the situation for Seungcheol in a weird way. Lovingly making fun of her clumsiness, just like he did for years and years before she left. The familiarity is warm and suffocating at the same time, but still he chuckles. “And he’s right for threatening you about that. You’d be dangerous on a ladder or stool.”

You’re chuckling too, placing a mug of coffee in front of him. “I know. I ruin everything. I’d probably put extra holes in the wall too before I break a bone. Pancakes okay?” 

“Sure,” Seungcheol shrugs, sipping on his coffee. It brings a stupid wave of emotions because you remembered how he likes his coffee and has prepared it to perfection. He tells himself that it’s because you have years of practice in college and it shouldn’t be something special but it is. He’s thankful that you have your back turned, grabbing things from the cabinet, and miss that it’s made him a little misty-eyed. “How are you liking the job?” 

You glance over your shoulder and shrug. “It’s alright.”

Your disinterested tone surprises him. He assumes you took this job because it was a direction you wanted to go after graduating, but you lack the passion he would have expected if that was the case. “Not what you had in mind?”

“No, it’s not that,” you drawl out, sighing. “My number one priority was coming home. In some ways, I took the first offer I got to do so. I’m not sure exactly what I want to do with my degree now that I have it.” Your laugh is incredibly humorless and he’s sure your expression would crush him if he could see it. “Isn’t that stupid?”

“No,” he says genuinely. It does burn him up inside to think that you might have left for nothing in a way, but he never wants to tell you that. In moments of clarity while you were gone, he did feel some pride that you were pursuing something you seemed passionate about. And on the heels of that, regrets that he didn’t just tell you that when you made your little announcement. “When did that change though? A few years ago, you were so excited for the program and where it would take you.”

He sees your shoulders tense at the mention of the breakup, no matter how delicately he was trying to tiptoe around it. But any discussion of her leaving would always tie back to that. “I guess I didn’t realize how many different things I could do with my degree outside of being a lawyer. I always had this image that I’d take the bar and find a practice and be in court everyday. I was about halfway through my degree when I realized the traditional career path might not be for me. Everyone keeps asking when I’m taking the bar and I’m not sure what to tell them, because it might be never now.”

Seungcheol mulls this over for a long time, letting you mix the batter, pour it into the pan, wait, flip, repeat. You have a decent stack of pancakes before he finally speaks. “That’s okay, Y/N. You shouldn’t stress about that. I mean, look at Jang. She’s got a law degree and has been in Contracts for longer than we’ve been alive. The non-traditional path is fine.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, flipping off the burner and bringing the full plate over to him. “Want anymore coffee? Fruit?” It’s clear to him that this part of the conversation is over, so he lets you bounce around the kitchen for a few things before finally sitting across from him. That tinge of awkwardness is still ever present, but he’s relieved that you two can move on to something else. Wonwoo and Mingyu. Seokmin. Seungcheol’s friends. Law school. It sort of, kind of, maybe feels like he can be your friend again, even if it looks and feels a little different. 

After breakfast, he helps you clean up. Then he lets you hand him dozens of things to hang throughout the apartment. Your diplomas. Photos of your family. Photos of you and your brothers. A few of you and him as kids, teenagers, and college students, which makes him misty-eyed again. A couple with what he assumes were friends from law school. A few of you and Jeonghan, someone you both went to high school with. 

“Didn’t know you knew Jeonghan that well,” he asks, hoping it sounds casual. 

“We went to law school in California together. We were close. Still are.” 

Seungcheol does his best to mask his awkwardness by teasing. “He had a massive crush on you back in high school, you know?”

You chuckle, handing him another thing to hang. “He told me.”

“Didn’t make a move, did he?” He’s joking, at first anyway. But you’re quiet as you hand him the next thing. 

“I guess? We dated for a while. Not that he told me about that crush until it was already over,” you finally admit. 

The knife twists. “Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s bummed you left.” He bites his tongue immediately because he didn't mean it like that. Your silence tells him you took it exactly how he wished you didn’t. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he mumbles, abandoning the pride that would usually keep him biting his tongue. 

You shake your head up at him. “It was deserved. I’m sorry if it’s awkward to talk about him. Or anything really.”

He focuses on the hook on the back of the next frame. “It shouldn’t be. Of course you dated while you were in California.”

Another pregnant pause. “Did you date?”

He shrugs and it’s genuinely casual because there’s not much to say. “Here and there. Nothing really stuck.”

You hum. “That’s it, I think. Get off the stool before you fall.”

The scolding makes him laugh. “I’m not you. I won’t be falling off.” Still, he climbs down, returning the stool to the kitchen. You meet him at the door, probably assuming he wants to go since he’s been here for hours now. “Thank you, again. You’ve kept my baby brother off my back for now.” 

The lightheartedness of the comment crushes him for so many reasons, but mostly that he spent years keeping Wonwoo and Mingyu, and often Bohyuk, off your back. Another thing that’s familiar. He desperately tries to match your lightheartedness when he says, “No problem. You know where to find me.”

At least later today you’ll know where to find him, anyway. He changes into gym clothes and hides out at the gym, working out until he can’t work out anymore. 

~

It’s Christmas and the tradition has always been for the Jeons and Chois to get together. They did it when Seungcheol and his brother and you and your brothers were kids, and it’s a tradition that they’ve maintained despite all of the kids being in their 20s now. 

Seungcheol offers to drive you to this get-together. He’s been doing that a lot lately, often times without realizing before the words are out of his mouth. If it’s raining or snowing, he’s offering to drive you to and from work because it’s right there. When the two of you go out with Wonwoo and Mingyu for dinner, he’s driving you home because it’s literally right there. When he needs to go to the grocery store, he asks you if you need anything or want to tag along, because it’s right there. You get the point. You’re right there and he can never seem to forget it.

So Seungcheol waits in your living room while you finish getting ready. He’s already got the gifts you both have purchased for everyone in the car. You come down the hall in a whirlwind, flinging on a coat over your Christmas sweater, tugging on boots. “I’m ready, I’m ready!” 

It makes him laugh genuinely. The awkwardness has faded for the most part, replaced by warmth, much like it was before you left. “Not like they’re going to start with out us.”

You scoff, grabbing your bag. “A very Leo attitude of you to have.”

“And you don't have that attitude?” He chortles, meeting you at the door, taking your keys from you to lock up since you seem frazzled. 

You snort. “No. Have you met my brothers? Bohyuk will eat both your portion and mine before we can get there if they don't watch him.” 

“You act like both my parents and yours aren’t making enough to feed a small army,” Seungcheol scoffs again, leading you into the parking garage. When both of you arrive, it's kind of like you never left. There are even moments where he forgets that you actually did. Watching you put your youngest brother in a headlock for stealing food off your plate. Wonwoo replacing the food from his own plate while you have your back turned. You getting Seungcheol a drink when you get up to get a refill for yourself. Seungcheol’s older brother Seungmin even comments that it’s like the four of you are still children. Mentions of law school can’t even touch the good mood Seungcheol’s in when you both walk to the car much, much later that night to go home. 

You’re a little bit giggly when you collapse into the front seat and he can’t help but chuckle. “Baby, I think you had a little too much eggnog.” You roll your eyes dramatically, tugging on your seat belt to try buckling it. It's not going well, so Seungcheol leans into the passenger side to do it for you. “So stubborn,” he chuckles again. “Watch your arm,” he warns, closing the door. Once in his own seat he starts up the car, blasts the heat, and gets on the road. “Did you have fun? First Christmas back with everyone.”

“I did,” you sniffle, and it makes his head snap to you. That’s right. You cry when you drink. The tiniest mention of something that makes you emotional balloons into tears. He’d lost count of how many times he’d let you curl up into his side until the emotion had passed, soothing you along the way. He can’t do that, because he’s driving and because it wouldn’t be a good idea anyway. So he reaches over, palm up for you to hold and you do on instinct. “I missed it. Holidays here, I mean. Hannie and Joshua tried to make Christmas fun there, but it wasn’t the same, you know?”

“I can imagine,” he says soothingly. “It was nice though. You hadn’t seen Bohyuk yet since you moved back, right?” 

“He’s a little shit,” you chuckle, but Seungcheol knows the statement is full of love. “It was nice to see Seungmin, too. I hadn’t seen him in a long time.”

Seungcheol hums. “He asks about you all the time. Says he always thought you were a sweet kid.”

“I’m sweet now,” you whine.

This makes a laugh bubble up Seungcheol’s throat. “I know you are, baby.”

You hum, looking kind of sleepy as you lean your head back. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

Seungcheol blinks, then realizes what he's said. Not once, but twice. He drives for a few long seconds in silence. “I’m sorry. It slipped. Habit, I guess.”

You’re sniffling again. “No, I like it. It reminds me that maybe you don't hate me.”

He’s lost in thought for the next few minutes, parking in the garage, leading you inside. He takes your keys from you, letting you into your apartment. He helps you change because he’s seen it all already and you’re totally unfazed by it. He helps you get into bed, tucking you in a bit. You’re already half asleep when he strokes your hair a few times. “I don’t hate you. Get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Cheol.” He can barely make your words out before you’re really out like a light. 

The gym is closed so he just lies in bed staring at the ceiling for a while. It’s true. He doesn’t hate you. Could never, really. He just doesn’t know what that means. 

[catras-breakup-song]

i’m not gonna lie… i’m lost here. is this supposed to be an 4nt1/cr1t1c4l post? if so, i genuinely don’t understand the point being made.

is it that playful banter is a bad thing? is it that being too hands-on violates unspoken boundaries? the message is so unclear to my autistic ass…

oh, wait, OP provided tags:

so aside from the fact that they are absolutely not sisters by default, least of all canonically (even if you do interpret them that way somehow), nor was it ever intended by nate stevenson, i’m still having trouble figuring out how this is problematic.

in which ways is lighthearted touch totally contradictory to passionate kissing/caressing? why can’t partners who are dating do both, especially in different cultural environments such as the horde where intimacy is discouraged and friendly sparring with familiar peers is a safe expression? if it’s so different, what are we as the audience supposed to interpret from their style of physical affection by the final season? side note, but aren’t we supposed to consider the latest version of anything in general as the most accurate?

now i have a question lol, did you take this moment literally at her word, and all the other times she repeated it?

also, my friend just pointed out that this is the classic homophobic talking point of "they seem to just be very good friends! they were roommates!" lmao. i've never agreed with accusing anyone who cr1t1c1z3s catradora of lesbophobia, which i'm not doing necessarily, because that's simply not how it works, however i found this funny and partially true so i'm keeping it in.

the lip bite was included unintentionally 👀

anyway, as i’ve discussed on this blog before, i’m very arospec and it’s inseparably intwined with my identity itself; i also project that onto catra. something we often bring up in that community, is romance-favorability (as its own spectrum of range all the way to blatant repulsion btw) — which is a personal preference that’s defined as exactly as it sounds like and occasionally revolves around fictional depiction as separate from one's own reality — and arguably more importantly, amatonormativity — which is an arbitrary set of rules for romantic expectations set up by an alloromantic society. this is typically thought of as common denial of the idea that someone could actually want to separate themself from needing a life partner in marriage, but can very much be applied to an annoying list of what draws the line between romantic & platonic relationships. that line is very individualistic and is to be decided on such a level only, and it doesn’t even get into what queerplatonic means, a concept saved for another day!

my point is, the OP seems to be trying to claim that catradora objectively cannot be read as romantic because their dynamic growing up & early-on in the story doesn’t perfectly meet socially-constructed standards of what that should look like. i say we need to eradicate those standards altogether! it’s up to catradora to decide what they are, if anything specific at all, not us as the audience — assuming they could’ve had the words at their disposal to knowingly describe it. going back to my earlier paragraph above about how limited they were in the fright zone, i’ll borrow a quote from a comment i made on one of my recent reblogged posts (which is a great meta on how their mutual desire was uh... definitely not platonic):

"Catra and Adora’s desire for one another is shown in a variety of ways, mostly indirect. There are a lot of glances - until season 5, not the kind of open leering at one another that we’d seen between other characters. Mostly it’s fairly playful - wiggled or cocked eyebrows, glances at each other while smirking, that kind of thing, or really intense and somewhat angry glares when they’re fighting."

it's really bothering me that i can't recall where i read this from before, but someone analyzed before how, growing up, catra & adora didn't have a good sense of how to label their relationship with accurate terminology despite being subconsciously aware that they, whether they knew the other reciprocated or not, loved each other "like that." unfortunately, they couldn't further explore it because such love & affection was seen as a punishable weakness in the horde, so they resorted to the only safe option they seemed to have, which was subtle body language and play-fighting as [testudoaubrei-blog] described above.

also, since this screenshot is included in that post... i would be amused to read an explanation of how THIS LOOK from catra is "platonic with a capital P", because i'm not even sure if it's up for debate to be quite honest with you:

ESPECIALLY with the "i always have!" line (which 4nt1s like to doubt, but i don't care, it's official!):

[ri-writes-if]

I just finished reading the new chapter and damn! It was such a rollercoaster of emotions!

And I can't even begin to describe just how much I hate Selene! Not saying it in a bad way though, just to be clear! She's just the kind of character I can't stand, even if she's delightfully written. Az suggested to my MC to be cordial with her for the time being, and the plan is sound, but damn, it'll be hard. She's that kind of character I find interesting because I think her circumstances are awful and tragic, but at the same time I can't bring myself to feel bad for her because it doesn't justify the way she currently acts (as explaining someone's behavior is not the same as justifying it). With that being said, I thank you so SO much for allowing us to tell the siblings (well, the siblings in my case since I'm on Az's route) about Selene already. I was genuinely scared it would be one of these situations where the MC just clams up and doesn't tell anyone about what's happening for who knows how many chapters, which is a trope I really tend to dislike. It was such a pleasant surprise to avoid it altogether!

Now, onto more "positive feelings", I'm so in love with Az. They are such a wonderful character on all accounts. The clothing and ring shopping was just so perfect, and damn that hug! Though I'm really insanely curious about what is the underlying issue they have in relation with the MC. I sort of "felt" it already before in the way they acted, but now thanks to the PoV change I had their actual thoughts on it, but I'm no closer to knowing what's going on, though at least I had confirmation of what I felt about it (so I guess it's still something!). It still fascinates me how Az isn't even "my type" of RO normally, and in any other story I would have probably picked one of the two royals, but I don't know, something about them immediately captured me entirely. I'm also pretty curious about what's the relationship between the siblings, because the more I think about them, the more I realize I don't know much about their dynamics. With the two royals, we at least know more of their dynamics thanks to some asks on the blog and what not, but the two siblings... I don't recall you saying much. And well, in that infirmary scene, it was a bit hard to read it considering they were both preoccupied with the MC and their injury and the Selene stuff and so on.

That aside, after re-reading from scratch (I changed computers and don't have my saves anymore), I had a theory that sprung in my mind. I think there is indeed an oracle blocking MC's visions of their own future that is NOT Selene. And that oracle would be MC's mother. She may be a powerful enough oracle to see pretty far in the future, and it's possible she saw something in her child's future that had her deciding to not only abandon them, but prevent them from seeing their future. Or rather, the future she saw. Meaning as long as MC was on a path or time frame where what she saw wouldn't appear to them, then they could see their future normally. But once they found themself on said path - probably related to the apocalyptic vision at the start of the game - it triggered the "block" as now we enter the territory of what MC's mother saw and thus knows well enough to block. Of course, I may be wildly overthinking it or just be plain wrong haha!

Oh and finally, a small bit of (I assume?) stray code:

I don't think the "cordial" is meant to be there?

Okay, that's it. Yeah, it's a VERY long ask that... isn't even an "ask" since I'm not asking anything! But I had so many feelings about this chapter! It was probably the best so far!

! Spoilers for Chapter 5

I hoped some would like Selene and some would not, so I’m pleased to see people have different feelings about her! I personally really love her because she’s a tragic character and tragic characters are my thing 😂 though I agree that her past doesn’t justify her current actions.

Yeahh. I was thinking of allowing to hide the incident with Selene, but the Oracle has their priorities straight, so it wouldn’t make sense for their character to sacrifice their own standing for Selene. They went to Vez to get their freedom back, and they’re not giving it away so easily. So I had to throw out that branch.

I’m happy you enjoyed Az’s route, especially considering they’re not your type! You’ll learn what their deal is with the Oracle in the future 😉 The next couple of chapters should have more Az + Ash combo, so I’ll have time to show their dynamic. But they’re pretty uh normal siblings? Az is a troublemaker, and Ash’s perpetually but fondly tired of their antics.

Your theory was very interesting to read. Thank you for sharing it! It’s wild and cool that people actually have theories about my story 🥺 Obviously I can’t confirm or deny it, but you’ll get the answer eventually.

Thanks for pointing that out, I’ll remove that code leftover.

I appreciate you taking the time to share your thoughts about the chapter. Reading these messages brings me joy every time! 💛

[bitchfitch]

Yeah it's a metaphor for how it's considered normal for boys to be emotionally neglected throughout childhood and how toxic masculinity and patriarchal ideas hurt men, but it's also literally about a big sexy bull man and a weird cat doing the fuck with eachother.

[qiu-yan]

in MDZS the novel, the innkeeper in Yunping mentions that people are too scared to go petition Yunmeng Jiang for help because someone once walked in on Sect Leader Jiang whipping a guy in the main hall, supposedly because the guy was a demonic cultivator.

[silvkatt]

Do not test me I will never stop yapping /j

Anyway, my stupid sky AU is called Halcyon Skies or Halcsky for short. Why is it named like that, idk but the memories of the past is a massive recurring theme with the two most important main character ocs of this AU, namely Astreos and Asteris.

I’ll mostly explain the basics because there is so much from the years I’ve spent on-and-off worldbuilding this thing.

There is PLENTY of groups in this AU such as the Lightweavers, a special guild of tailor skykids, the Darkness Hunters, a group of skykids that hubnt down darkness (especially back when there was a time when darkness surged across all the realms), and the Sky Council, a council of 11 skykids that help the elders protect the remains of the Sky Kingdom with seven six of the members acting as willing proxies to each of the Elders. There is also the Vultures, an organization of healers, mortuary workers, rescuers, and moth caretakers, and the Reshlytes, dark skykid worshippers of a certain fallen king.

Other stuff in this AU uhhhhh, a few skykid subspecies! We got the Blue-Flamed, skykids that survive being born underwater but have to eat darkness to satisfy their blue flame or they will overheat and burn up. There’s also the Novae, skykids born from dying stars and have very powerful flames but are commonly born with fragile bodies. Krillkids and Dark Skykids also exist but only due to the action of a certain king darkening a lot of the stars of the Megabird. Most important are the Children of Stars, said to contain a part of the purest light of the Megabird’s core and are all siblings. Only seven six skykids are known to be part of this subspecies.

Some skykids can also be born with animal traits like cat ears. Just for fun tbh

Skykid Examples among my way too many skykids

Fun fact, this entire AU started to exist because I just started making shit up about my own version of Resh and welp- here we are!

So about Astreos and Asteris. Can be considered the main characters of this AU. These two are extremely special among all my sky ocs.

Astreos is one of the siblings of the Children of Stars. They’re an optimistic and good-natured kid who admires the Darkness Hunters from all the stories they read. Curious and adventerous, they also love making new friends. They eventually become a Darkness Hunter under an S-rank Dark Hunter named Wulvyn.

Astreos however has something else about them, their halved soul. Some circumstances rendered Astreos’s soul being part of the other shattered half of a certain long fallen king named Resh. This has allowed Astreos to be able to wield light and dark magic and gave them their heterochromia eyes. It also had the effect of giving Astreos another person sharing their body who prefers to be called Asteris for the time being.

Asteris is an enigmatic amnesiac person. They have residual bitter resentment from their past self but doesn’t know why exactly. They know they have done something very terrible but can’t describe what it is. Ruthless and often on edge but eventually gains a soft spot for the other person in their body, Astreos, and even helps them become a Darkness Hunter.

And that’s most of the yapping for now. I have so so much stuff in this au from years of on-and-off working on it and have no plans to turn it into a comic due to the complexity 😭

If you're reading this, this is your opportunity to talk about your Sky character as much (or as little!!) as you want.

Skykid? An oc? A spirit you made?

Gimme the lore, the fun facts, the sad facts, the likes/dislikes. Whatever you want to share! Get yappin'!!

[solomon-tozer]

Select bits from Sir John's funeral that I just love...

So we have Crozier reading out the part about Jacob dreamed about a ladder, set upon the earth, "and the top of it reaching to the heavens"...

...as we see Collins and Stanley, the two characters whose mental health is a defining part of their character arcs.

Then, "Behold the Lord stood above it and he said, 'I am with thee ...'" as the focus shifts to Goodsir.

"'... and will keep thee in all places, wherever thou goest'".

Goodsir, who later questions "is God here?"

The following line and shot are "'for I will not leave thee'" as we see Jopson and Blanky.

The two men Crozier left. Blanky knew Crozier was, just earlier that day, planning to leave them. Jopson likely knew, as it's remarked later that he knows everything, and perhaps he's the one who tidied away the unsealed letter and wax.

Then the Terror lieutenants, with MacDonald too. "And in Jacob's dream he saw the invisible world, companion to the known one we perceive."

The men who were privy to Crozier's alcoholism, and were part of maintaining that separation between officers and men... but also Hickey and Irving 'perceived' Hickey's true nature.

So, of course, when we have: "So complete it would seem to leave no room for its invisible brother world" as we see Hickey...

that otherness, that not belonging, keeping out of sight, experiencing thing in such a different way but no one notices or even thinks it's there...

And then going back to a shot of the men gathered at Sir John's funeral. "The departed..."

"...who though cleaved from the frame that carried them yet live." They are all departed. Dead. Crozier is the only one who doesn't die, but he certainly doesn't 'stay' in the world he's expected to.

The contrast of the words of virtue and strength, from scripture and used to describe Sir John and saying he's "destined to reign with Christ forever", being heard as we see Hickey in Gibson's cabin.

The white glove over the hand that will offer up Hickey's tongue, his left hand reverently touching the spot, the fact that, all that time later, Hickey has come to believe that he can be a new god and reign...

Finally, for this post, we have "and see His truth amongst us" as Hickey reads Crozier's resignation letter, discovering the truth of Crozier's actions.

And not one of them is god, or has the truth. They are all in this terrible place where the sun has set, in this strange world they don't understand, in this "invisible world of spirits".

There's so much in this scene, so many links, that I just lose my mind every time.

[ambrosiagourmet]

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

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

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

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

Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus

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

to Laios':

-

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

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

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

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

2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire

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

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

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

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

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

Izutsumi

Kabru

and Mithrun

Hell, we even get it for the demon!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's about how they are wrong.

[cheriladycl01]

Kinktober 07/10/2024 Lando Norris - Hand Kink

Plot: Just like every other girlie, you have an obsession with your boyfriends hands …

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, choking, fingering, hand kink, p in v etc 18+ Minors DNI

You didn’t actually realise it was something you were so obsessed with to the point it was considered a kink until you met Lando.

You never found particular interest in your partners hands apart from Landos and it wasn’t even you who pointed it out.

He did.

It started with just you playing with his fingers when you were stood close enough to be holding his large hand in your two smaller ones. You’d just play with them and Lando never thought anything off it, he just assumed it was an anxious habit of yours.

But then, whenever his hand was in your thigh, in the car or when you were sat in the garage you’d always shift almost as if you were uncomfortable but the look on your face always told him a different story.

He could only describe that look as enamoured. You’d just stare at his hand before tracing the prominent veins that travelled up into his arms.

And then, after a while if you both getting comfortable during intimacy he always saw you had a different reaction to everything he did when he used his hands. A normal thrust when his hands on either side of you in the pillow got a lovely moan, but when his hands clamped down on your boobs or were in your mouth if he was trying to muffle your sounds when he thrusted in had your gasping, moaning, swearing and calling his name.

The last time was a time where you’d been apart for a while and you were both extremely turned on and horny for each other and you were so in the moment that you hadn’t even realised you’d asked him to have his hand around your neck.

And he needed to outright ask you about it, not because it was a concern or a turn off for him. It actually really turned him on, but he just wanted to know where it came from.

“Baby, can we talk?” He’d asked you as he came and sat down in the sofa while you were prepping for dinner in the kitchen.

“Yeah sure what’s up Lan” you say sweetly still concentrating on cutting up some veggies.

“Come sit with me for a minute” he says patting the seat on the sofa next to him.

“Oh, oh shit this is serious. What did I do?” You ask worriedly racking your brain for if you’d missed a pile of laundry or not washed a cup and left it on the bedside table.

“It’s nothing to worry about, just wanna talk to you” he smiles and you sit next to him. Immediately you cuddle into him and grab his hands as you look up at him.

“So, this is about our sex life. I’ve just noticed some things and I think … I think you might have a kink. And I was just wondering if you hadn’t told me, because you were embarrassed or, if you I don’t know but I just wanted to ask” he admits and you look shocked at him.

“What?” You laugh looking over at him, and now Lando’s cheeks go bright red.

“Baby I’m trying to be serious” he says looking at you.

“I - i don’t know what you mean I promise” you laugh and snuggle into him.

“I think you have a hand kink” he blurts out and you freeze.

“You what?” You ask looking at him with a confused expression.

“A hand kink. I think you have one because you are obsessed with my hands. Every time your touching them, or using them. And I don’t mind, i fucking love it actually but I just wanna know where it came from?” He asks and you think for a minute in complete silence.

“I never really considered it to be something that took my interest but now that you’ve brought it up… I think i do. I love seeing your hands all over me, and your hands are just pretty sexy in general” you smile and he looks down with a shy blush, something uncommon for your normally pretty cocky boyfriend.

“Yeah? You like my hands baby” he says sliding one up you thigh, your breath catching in your throat, as your eyes glaze over with lust.

“Lan- what are” you pause to moan as his hand dips into your underwear his fingers starting to rub circles on your clit.

“What my hands baby, you like how they make you feel?” He asks, only to look up and see your gaze already looking at his hand and fingers close to your sensitive region.

Without hesitation he’s dipping his fingers in, obscene wet sounds coming from in between your legs as you try to clamp them together. However his other hand comes to your knee to stop that movement and keep your legs open and your pussy in his line of sight as his fingers sped up.

“Argh baby fuck” you moan as your legs start to shake. You look over him and back down at his hands. The veins looked more prominent from this angle and a sigh of relief came from your lips as your toes curled into the carpet and your grabbed the edge of the sofa as your teeth sunk into your lip. His hand was covered in your juices where you’d just squirted, and you looked down in shock. You don’t think you’d ever squirted before … and Lando just made you do that.

“Did I just?” You ask looking at his wet hand.

“Squirt? I think you did. That was hot! I wanna try again” he grins and before you know it he’s got you on your hands and knees on the sofa, pillow under you as his hands run up and down your faces away body.

He plays with your nipples and massages your boobs just the way that has you pushing back into his clothed dick that you can already feel is hard under his sweatpants.

“Calm down baby” he laughs, he runs and finger down your spine, a sensation you didn’t think would turn you in as much as it did, but you were practically shaking once his hand got to the base.

“Can’t believe you didn’t tell me about your little kink” he says as he pushes into you, so your belly is resting softly on the pillow he placed under you.

“I didn’t even know, I don’t even think I had it until I saw your hands” you moan, his sweatpants rubbing deliciously against your clit.

“So my hands make you a kinky girl huh?” He teases and you try to turn your head round to him, but his hand runs over your shoulder before sliding across your neck.

A breathy gasp comes from you as you realise what’s happening.

“Lan?”

“Just let it happen beautiful” he leans into you from behind his voice hot in your ear. One hand lightly puts pressure on your throat while the other focuses on pulling his sweatpants just enough to have his fuck free enough to fuck the living shit out of you.

Because of course that was his plan now that he found out the affect just his hands had on you.

His hand continued to hold your neck in the perfect grip, a mix between pleasure and pain that you were absolutely thriving for.

Lando slipped in with ease, now that he was buried deep, his free hand came to hold your hip in a tight grip to keep you in place as he continuously pounded into you from behind.

Your head fell into the arm of the sofa, moans of his name and grunts of swear words and whines of what you wanted him to do all for muffled.

“So fucking pretty, fucking love you” Lando groans out as he speeds up, which seemed impossible from how quickly he was currently thrusting in and out of you.

“Fuck baby, that’s it. Squeeze me for all I’m worth” he moans into you, pressing your further into the sofas surface as he looses his own grip and his back is lightly on top of yours.

“Fuck Lan, i -“ you cry as your vision blurs and your soaking his dick and the fabricated sofa you were still on. Lando isn’t far to follow, all of his body weight melting on top of you when you had also finished.

“So .. erm do you have any kinks we need to talk about?” You breath out trying to move over so you can cuddle him. All you get in return in a laugh before he pulls you in fully to cuddle.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[spookypete-94]

Pregnant by Proxy

SimonRileyxPregnant!Reader

Have had this idea in my head for many, many months. Finally just decided to do it- even if it seems strange to some.

Triggers for medical inaccuracies, language, minor angst, still born mentioned

What triggered it all is you not showing up. Being Laswell’s right hand while she was Watcher, given you the opportunity to assist Task Force 141 on multiple missions. So much, they considered you a part of their team.

Here instead, Simon Riley stood back watching you from afar. He had hunted you down and located you in your hometown. Something he was never ever supposed to do. There was a no contact rule for them outside of their work. Price enforced it for safety reasons. But Simon just couldn’t stand not knowing where you were or what had happened. That was unsafe for him. He needed to see you, needed to make sure you were alright.

“I can’t tell you much, just that she will not be attending this mission.” Laswell spoke from the computer screen during their video call meant to be a mission brief for the 4 of them.

“She ok at least?” Price asked, looking up over the stack of papers in his hands up at the camera.

You had made your mark on all of them… but maybe not as dark or inflicted as you had on Simon.

“Medical emergency back at home. I know you guys are worried about her, but I really can’t disclose anymore.” Laswell’s voice firmer, protecting you.  “She deserves privacy and her time off.” Something you had earned away from them.

Simon couldn’t help but pipe up. “When will she be back?” You are an asset to this team, as much to his spirit.

A heavy sigh from Laswell, “We need to focus on the task ahead.” She was putting up a wall. How dare you leave without relaying some sort of word to him…

What had happened to you?

That was the moment Simon knew he needed to find you. You were at risk, something had happened. Did you get sent somewhere without him and hurt? Are you bruised and bloody? Had someone laid hands on you? Dangerous as you were… Simon couldn’t help feeling that you were fragile. He had seen you in the most intimate of ways on more than one occasion. Perhaps that had changed his perception of the clarity of body. Fragile like clay figurine, porous and breakable. Skin smooth, even though littered with scars in places. Special, is the way to describe you to him. You understood him. An extension of his peace.

So, he finished the mission. Angrier than he had ever been at the end of one. Days drawn out, even though it only took them a week to find their target and take him into custody. It was a success, a record in apprehending someone capable of such violence. Little did the Task Force know, Ghost’s unbridled rage of procrastinating the ability to find you, the result of such a feat.

Price knew something was up when Ghost had turned down the interrogation of the suspect. This was his forte. One of his best qualities of finding intel was beating a man into submission. Glancing with a side eye filled with suspicion, Price then closed it. Halfway knowing what Ghost was up to, the fact that Simon now needed this. He needed to know you were alive.

There were a few times you would tell him stories of your hometown and family after you would connect and lay naked together. He enjoyed it. It distracted his mind while his brain would close his eyes and imagine it. Never once did you tell him where you from or the name of the town… but he had seen it so many times in his mind’s eye, he had just an inkling of where it was hidden.

Imagine his surprise when had finally found you outside your favorite coffee house. A small coffee in your hand… and a swollen belly round in front of you as you slowly waddled away from him. He had stood back near the corner about 3 buildings away from you, following you ever so slowly.

Shock had filled his system. He could walk away now… in fact he fully wanted to bolt and sprint in a different direction. He knew you were safe, alive and clearly thriving… but he had more questions now then when he did about your absence.

Feeling like you were being watched made you turn around. Eyes instantly locked on the black shadow that was following you.

“Simon?” Your sweet voice called to him, filled with confusion and happiness.

“Wanted to see you…” Was all he could mumble out as he approached.

Awkwardly you tried hard to lurch to him, hard to do so when your counterbalance was way off.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” a rushed hiss to him, as you tried to lay your head into his chest. It was difficult with how round you were, the babe pressing you away.

His finger guided under your chin, lifting it up so he could see your eyes. Tears welled in them that he brushed back with a thumb. Fucking hormones.

“Missed you,” you repeated. Somehow even through all your emotions, the glow on you was so strong and intense. How beautiful.

Simon remained quiet, while he tried to decide how far along you were. The time frame… seemed possible, but he wasn’t entirely sure. The time away from you seemed so much longer. He wanted to ask, he needed to know this now. Sure, he wanted to run at the same time, but you were important to him. This was important to him.

“Is it mine?” He asked his palm spreading over the circumference.

You stood there unable to speak. It was such a long story. Words hindered, closed off. Instead, you shook your head with a slow no. Regret written all over your face.

Instantly, the rage returned to him. Of course he wasn’t good enough for you. That’s why you left. That’s why everyone eventually does. How dare you be so important to him….

Turning on heel, he pushed past the crowd of people nearby trying to get away from you. Anger blinding him, deafening your calling out.

“Simon!! Wait!! She’s not mine either!!” Trying your hardest to run after him.

What?

He stopped dead in his tracks, unable to turn to look at you yet. The same tears that had stung yours now been transferred to his. Had he really wanted this with someone so bad before?

Your hand pressed into his back letting him know you were still there.

“She’s my sisters… it’s a really long fucked up story, but she is my sister’s.”

Abstract. This whole thing was completely abstract and fucking strange. You were being a surrogate to it all.

“What?” Simon said again, finally turning around, his head looking to the side, still not fully able to look at you yet. He needed clarification, needed to comprehend you hadn’t betrayed him.

“I went on leave because my sister was pregnant and went into labor at about eight and half months…but something had happened. She got this blood infection in her uterus causing a still birth. And when it did, it made things happen to her reproductive organs so she would never be able to carry a baby again…They had to take it all out.” A heavy breath left you, as you started to explain, a shake he could hear in your voice, one that and couldn’t ignore.

He turned back around, finally able to look at you again. To you, it was like the break of dawn and the sun greeting the Earth for the first time. He was listening to you. This whole time you were fearful of losing him… but here he was standing before you. Shining like the sun every morning, a wordless pact.

“My sister… she lost her baby and I saw what it did to her. This is all she has ever wanted was to be a mother, and her chance has been taken from her. So, when the doctor said they had saved some of her eggs…I knew I had to do this for her.” Taking his hand, you placed it back on your belly, sprawling his long fingers over it. “This baby isn’t yours… and she isn’t mine. That doesn’t make her any less important though. Just know I had to do this for her.”

His hand was warm. Radiating warmth into you. It gave so much into you, like you had just spewed out back to him.

Did he doubt you?

“I was on my way to an appointment. Why don’t you come with me and maybe that will help you understand.”

A compromise. Let me make this right.

Sliding his hand across your belly, over to your hand he took it and gripped it, squeezing once in awhile. His quiet assurance. So, you led the way. The sail to his boat, teaching and guiding him.

The room was white. White bed, white paper covering it. White walls. White Floor. So much white it hurt for him to look at. Carefully, he stood next to you, letting you climb on the bed to lay down.

“Where is your sister?” A valid question. He would think if this was her baby, she would want to know details, right?

“Work. I think it still hurts her to come sometimes… She has come to a few in the very beginning, but as it gets closer it scares her.”

A valid response.

“You been coming by yourself?”

A slight shrug of your shoulders. “I have…” That hurt him to know you were doing a majority of this alone.

“How did you…?” He said looking down and looking back up at you.

“Conceive?” Unsure if that was what he was asking or not. “Artificial. They planted the embryo after it was fertilized."

Oh, thank God. The relief written on his face makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry. No one else has been inside me in that way. I would never let anyone, let alone my brother-in-law.” Still chuckling.

“Better not.” The only words he could say in his embarrassment of thinking so.

In walked the doctor, who looked over at the mountain of a man.

“Well, hello. Is his him then?” She pointed to him and looked back at you.

“It is.” A smile radiating back at her, truly at your happiest.

The doctor glanced back over at him. “She has talked about you quite a bit and how much she wished you could be here. It’s hard, what she is doing for someone else, but I’m glad her person is here with her now. Your girl’s quite brave.” Rolling across the floor of the room on her stool.

Simon was dumb founded; you had talked about him to someone else? Did he really mean that much to you too?

“Now let’s have a look.”

Rolling your shirt up, exposing that smooth skin to him one more time. It’s been so long since he had last seen it, and here it had changed so much but remained stunning to him.

The doctor measured it before pulling out the doppler to hear the heartbeat. A soft whooshing noise was instantly recognized, making you close your eyes and smile. It was so surreal to Simon. Like he was on the outside looking in. He had the opportunity to see you in this light… and somehow it still was that way for you too. Knowing you were carrying this baby… but it wasn’t entirely yours either.

“Your niece is looking wonderful. See you at your thirty-six-week appointment. Will be once a week starting then.” Niece… A reminder that you were grateful for this baby, but a deep part of you wished it was daughter.

Somehow, he had made it to the checkout desk with you and hadn’t even realized it.

“Can I list you as an emergency contact?” the question that brought him back to reality. Your eyes were looking up at him, pen and paper in your hand before you wrote his name down.

“Sure,” he said taking the pen and paper, scribbling his number down next to his name. Who said anything about no contact outside of work again?

Ending the day, you brought him back to your home. Allowing him to see more of your personal life. Baring it all to him today. His fragile figurine, safe and protected now that he had found her once more. Never again would you be out of his sights. He will see to fix that, all on his own.

Two hands started at your hips before snaking around, his arms fully embraced you from behind. He lifted up on your heavy belly, taking the weight off your hips. A pleasant groan emitted from you. How good did that feel.

“Such a nice thing you are doing for your sister… but next time, the baby in there is going to be ours.” His mouth hot and heavy next to your ear, before running his tongue from the bottom up. It made your skin run hot and cold all at once, goosebumps in the wake on your skin.

“Going to be such a good mother,” his hand trailing down your belly and onto your thigh before squeezing it. “I want this to be safe and healthy for you all, but as soon as you can… I’m fillin’ you with my own. As many as you’ll let me.” Grinding into you, imagining you swollen with his seed making him aroused.

“I missed you.” You whispered out the thrice time today.

Simon "Ghost" Riley Masterlist

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am����

[teaandspite]

The Great Goodreads Diss List (Part 1)

Context: For many years now, I have been collecting funny lines from Goodreads reviews to share with my coworkers. (I do collection development, reader's advisory, and weeding at a public library, so I read a LOT of reviews)

Are some of these, perhaps, rather mean? Yes, but they are also very funny, and come from a place of honest frustration. In the tradition of Bargepole threads and lists everywhere, names and titles have been censored.

"First, I want to say that I understand how hard it is to write a book and how amazing it is when it is actually published. Congrats to the author for that accomplishment. That said--"

"Warning: This review will be lengthy due to pure hatred."

"I found myself feeling really, really annoyed with the world that this book is allowed to exist. We live in a universe where the passenger pigeon is extinct but this book goes along merrily being read by unsuspecting lovers of words and ideas and stories? It just seems like too much, you know?"

"Don't do it. Don't spring the cash for the hardcover. Instead, eat an entire bag of Twizzlers, spend some money you don't have at a high-end department store, look up on Facebook the shady college boyfriend that made you cry, research the current value of your home or 401K and then read all about how the big hedge fund managers are faring during the economic crisis. You'll feel about the same stomach pain if you waste your time reading this book."

"This wretched novel begins with the mugging of an old lady and it appears I may be in the process of repeating that loathsome crime as [author] was 78 when she wrote it. It is not nice to put the boot into such a poor defenseless old creature lying there with only a damehood, a Booker Prize and a few million quid. It’s a nasty job but somebody has to do it."

"I think this is the way dead people would write, if they could."

"I am considering setting up SPABB: Society for the Protection of Accurate Book Blurb. This blurb appears to have been written by someone from the publishers who met [the author] the night before, got very drunk, lost his notes and then constructed something in a fug of hangover the next morning."

"I congratulate [the author] on the early half of his book, which was thoroughly fun and made me laugh and think. I congratulate [the author] on the second half of his book, for finishing it. It reads like that was difficult."

"…a woman whose taste in contemporary literature has roughly the same batting average as a pitcher in the National League."

"The author is a pompous windbag."

"Recommends it for: No one. Recommended to me by: A friend who apparently wished to cause me great suffering."

"Makes me wonder: is it possible to obtain similes at a volume discount?"

"The repeated phrases made me want to mail a thesaurus to the author."

"I'm disappointed in myself for finishing this book."

"if the author described [character's] eyes as "obsidian" one more time I was tempted to write her and ask if her thesaurus broke."

"They say that an infinite number of monkeys with an infinite number of typewriters would, if given infinite time, eventually produce the complete works of William Shakespeare. [This book], on the other hand, would probably take the average monkey just under two hours."

"I can't imagine what the author had to do to get this nadir of Western literature printed on innocent trees, but he does seem to know a LOT about being well-connected in New York."

"This book is so bad it is almost worth reading just to make you appreciate the other books you are reading."

"Reads like it was written by a brilliant author, the night before it was due."

"raises interesting questions, like: can a book be so bad as to constitute an act of terrorism"

"has this author ever spoken to a human woman"

"This acorn has fallen so far from the tree that it can’t even see the forest."

"I’m guessing they are touted as ‘beach reads’ because no one will care if they get dropped into the ocean."

"This book begins with all the energy of a hand vacuum near the end of its battery life, and the pace doesn't quicken much from there."

"At least everybody’s eyes stayed the same color this time around.”

Part 2

Part 3

[katrafiy]

I think about this image a lot. This is an image from the Aurat March (Women's March) in Karachi, Pakistan, on International Women's Day 2018. The women in the picture are Pakistani trans women, aka khwaja siras or hijras; one is a friend of a close friend of mine.

In the eyes of the Pakistani government and anthropologists, they're a "third gender." They're denied access to many resources that are available to cis women. Trans women in Pakistan didn't decide to be third-gendered; cis people force it on them whether they like it or not.

Western anthropologists are keen on seeing non-Western trans women as culturally constructed third genders, "neither male nor female," and often contrast them (a "legitimate" third gender accepted in its culture) with Western trans women (horrific parodies of female stereotypes).

There's a lot of smoke and mirrors and jargon used to obscure the fact that while each culture's trans women are treated as a single culturally constructed identity separate from all other trans women, cis women are treated as a universal category that can just be called "women."

Even though Pakistani aurat and German Frauen and Guatemalan mujer will generally lead extraordinarily different lives due to the differences in culture, they are universally recognized as women.

The transmisogynist will say, "Yes, but we can't ignore the way gender is culturally constructed, and hijras aren't trans women, they're a third gender. Now let's worry less about trans people and more about the rights of women in Burkina Faso."

In other words, to the transmisogynist, all cis women are women, and all trans women are something else.

"But Kat, you're not Indian or Pakistani. You're not a hijra or khwaja sira, why is this so important to you?"

Have you ever heard of the Neapolitan third gender "femminiello"? It's the term my moniker "The Femme in Yellow" is derived from, and yes, I'm Neapolitan. Shut up.

I'm going to tell you a little bit about the femminielli, and I want you to see if any of this sounds familiar. Femminielli are a third gender in Neapolitan culture of people assigned male at birth who have a feminine gender expression.

They are lauded and respected in the local culture, considered to be good omens and bringers of good luck. At festivals you'd bring a femminiello with you to go gambling, and often they would be brought in to give blessings to newborns. Noticing anything familiar yet?

Oh and also they were largely relegated to begging and sex work and were not allowed to be educated and many were homeless and lived in the back alleys of Naples, but you know we don't really like to mention that part because it sounds a lot less romantic and mystical.

And if you're sitting there, asking yourself why a an accurate description of femminiello sounds almost note for note like the same way hijras get described and talked about, then you can start to understand why that picture at the start of this post has so much meaning for me.

And you can also start to understand why I get so frustrated when I see other queer people buy into this fool notion that for some reason the transes from different cultures must never mix.

That friend I mentioned earlier is a white American trans woman. She spent years living in India, and as I recal the story the family she was staying with saw her as a white, foreign hijra and she was asked to use her magic hijra powers to bless the house she was staying in.

So when it comes to various cultural trans identities there are two ways we can look at this. We can look at things from a standpoint of expressed identity, in which case we have to preferentially choose to translate one word for the local word, or to leave it untranslated.

If we translate it, people will say we're artificially imposing an outside category (so long as it's not cis people, that's fine). If we don't, what we're implying, is that this concept doesn't exist in the target language, which suggests that it's fundamentally a different thing

A concrete example is that Serena Nanda in her 1990 and 2000 books, bent over backwards to say that Hijras are categorically NOT trans women. Lots of them are!

And Don Kulick bent over backwards in his 1998 book to say that travesti are categorically NOT trans women, even though some of the ones he cited were then and are now trans women.

The other option, is to look at practice, and talk about a community of practice of people who are AMAB, who wear women's clothing, take women's names, fulfill women's social roles, use women's language and mannerisms, etc WITHIN THEIR OWN CULTURAL CONTEXT.

This community of practice, whatever we want to call it - trans woman, hijra, transfeminine, femminiello, fairy, queen, to name just a few - can then be seen to CLEARLY be trans-national and trans-cultural in a way that is not clearly evident in the other way of looking at things.

And this is important, in my mind, because it is this axis of similarity that is serving as the basis for a growing transnational transgender rights movement, particularly in South Asia. It's why you see pictures like this one taken at the 2018 Aurat March in Karachi, Pakistan.

And it also groups rather than splits, pointing out not only points of continuity in the practices of western trans women and fa'afafines, but also between trans women in South Asia outside the hijra community, and members of the hijra community both trans women and not.

To be blunt, I'm not all that interested in the word trans woman, or the word hijra. I'm not interested in the word femminiello or the word fa'afafine.

I'm interested in the fact that when I visit India, and I meet hijras (or trans women, self-expressed) and I say I'm a trans woman, we suddenly sit together, talk about life, they ask to see American hormones and compare them to Indian hormones.

There is a shared community of practice that creates a bond between us that cis people don't have. That's not to say that we all have the exact same internal sense of self, but for the most part, we belong to the same community of practice based on life histories and behavior.

I think that's something cis people have absolutely missed - largely in an effort to artificially isolate trans women. This practice of arguing about whether a particular "third gender" label = trans women or not, also tends to artificially homogenize trans women as a group.

You see this in Kulick and Nanda, where if you read them, you could be forgiven for thinking all American trans women are white, middle class, middle-aged, and college-educated, who all follow rigid codes of behavior and surgical schedules prescribed by male physicians.

There are trans women who think of themselves as separate from cis women, as literally another kind of thing, there are trans women who think of themselves as coterminous with cis women, there are trans women who think of themselves as anything under the sun you want to imagine.

The problem is that historically, cis people have gone to tremendous lengths to destroy points of continuity in the transgender community (see everything I've cited and more), and particularly this has been an exercise in transmisogyny of grotesque levels.

The question is do you want to talk about culturally different ways of being trans, or do you want to try to create as many neatly-boxed third genders as you can to prop up transphobic theoretical frameworks? To date, people have done the latter. I'm interested in the former.

I guess what I'm really trying to say with all of this is that we're all family y'all.

[mechdyke-after-hours]

HEAD MEDIC

a ficlet for @cyberrose2001 and @azu-recentbrainrot . this is for u guys. U both infected me with him. I'm gonna sue. >:(

Ratchet/Human!Reader cunnilingus

painfully soft and fluffy compared to my usual writing. mostly just him eating you out until you fall asleep. mech was HUNGRY.

word count: 1,103

Ratchet was a bit of a hardass most of the time, and most people wouldn't deny that. But good god, he was incredible in bed. You'd heard stories about his party ambulance days, even seen photo and video evidence at some point much to your (very aroused) delight. Sure he was a little older and more battle hardened now, but he retained the passion. Not to mention… the battle scars only added to the appeal.

You spent more time than not at the autobot base. The other mechs had become more than accustomed to you at this point, and you'd even consider them all some of your closest friends. But, even though you loved them to pieces, your favourite time was when they were out on missions, or patrol.

It usually took no more than 10 minutes for Ratchet to start gently running his practiced servos over your form, and no more than 15 minutes for his mouth to be on you.

Today was one of those days.

His servos wrapped around your waist, slowly sliding up to caress your chest softly, squeezing the plush flesh softly. You immediately lean into his touches with an affectionate hum.

“Touchy already? It's been less than 5 minutes, you're so impatient…” You turn around so you can glance up into his optics. His usually bright, kind eyes have darkened ever so slightly and he has what can only be described as a cocky smirk on his face.

“I've been waiting cycles to have you all to myself again…” He mumbled, gently lifting you into his arms. Despite having mass displaced, he was still around three feet taller than you. He pressed kisses to your neck as he walked you to his berth, biting your shoulder gently, his dentae leaving a small red mark. You gasp in surprise, biting your lip to hold back a more embarrassing noise. He lets out a soft laugh “Primus… you're so soft and small… and so fragging sensitive.”

The medic laid you on the lightly padded berth, his servos trailing over your body with practiced delicacy. If there was one Cybertronian to trust with your squishy human form, it was Ratchet. Digits pulled at your clothes, fabric being pulled off with surprising urgency. He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

Your underwear were pulled off quickly, the damp fabric gently held between two digits before he slipped it into his subspace with a grin. You couldn't help but blush, and you felt yourself get wetter.

Ratchet's servos gently pushed your thighs apart, a digit trailing up your slick folds to gently ghost over your clit. He used two digits to spread you open, examining the glistening threads with a hum. “Dirty thing… you're absolutely soaked…” He held up his digits, spreading them apart. Strings of fluids practically dripped down his fingers onto the berth below. “and here you were calling me impatient?” He tutted disapprovingly, reaching up to slide his digits between your lips and into your mouth. You let out a shocked gasp, the slightly sweet, bitter and salty taste of your own fluids mixing with the sharp metallic taste of his plating on your tongue.

Ratchet's digits slipped out from your mouth, reaching back between your legs to rub your own saliva against you, before he leaned down to drag his glossa up your folds. Your back arched, one of your hands clasping over your mouth instinctively. His servos wrapped around your thighs, pulling you as close as possible. He moved his glossa against you like your slick was the finest energon.

Your legs clamp around his helm, and he growls. “That's it sweetspark… you taste so good…” His optics flicker as you meet his gaze, and you can feel him smiling against you. His glossa flicks against your clit, and you yelp. He chuckles again, one servo gently kneading your thigh as the other slides up higher. One large metal digit gently teases your opening, slowly inching its way inside. His glossa lapping against your clit the whole time.

His fingers are massive. Even in his mass displaced frame, his servos easily cover your entire abdomen. One of his digits feels like it could easily be the size of two of your own. The stretch isn't painful, but by god is it a stretch. His digit pumps slowly, but skillfully. He hits every spot inside of you with a surgical and practiced precision. You wouldn't be surprised if he mapped out all your sweet spots and kept a guide in his memory bank for times just like this. Which, to be honest, is a very Ratchet thing to do. He was a master of bringing you to your peak almost embarrassingly quickly. The way he looked up at you with that fucking look in his optics was not helping.

Your lower stomach twists, your thigh muscles clenching and twitching. You squeeze your legs around his helm tighter, and you can feel yourself clenching around his digit. You're so close. So painfully close. “H-hah… Ratchet…” You can barely recognise your own voice with how desperate you sound, and he chuckles softly.

“There, there sweet thing… you're taking my digit so well…” He mumbles, curling his finger up just right. His thrusts increase in speed, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His free servo moves up to your abdomen, pressing down slightly in a way that makes your eyes roll back. His engine purrs. “That's right… overload on my glossa for me sweetspark…”

You do just that.

With an embarrassingly loud cry of his name, your thighs wrap around his helm even tighter, to the point you're almost definitely bruised. You grind against his intake entirely unconsciously. He groans as he works you through your orgasm, relishing in the taste of your orgasm against his glossa. Your breathing slowly returns to normal as you relax your legs, trembling slightly. “F-fucking hell…” You curse, pushing the hair out of your face.

He chuckled again, pressing a quick kiss to your slightly overstimulated clit before he pulled away. His derma glistened with a mix of oral lubricants and your own fluids. “Good job, sweetspark. You're always so good for me.” He moved up to lay next to you, pulling you close to his chassis. His engine rumbled softly as he gently petted your hair, rather affectionately.

You were half asleep by the time he slowly stood up from the berth. He planted a gentle kiss on your forehead, mumbling something that you couldn't quite hear, before he headed off back to the main room, leaving you to nap peacefully.

[sansaorgana]

— LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART FOUR

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Tyrell!OC

SUMMARY — Six moons of marriage have passed and an unexpected visit of Lord Jason Lannister causes Ser Gwayne and the new Lady Hightower to have their very first disagreement. Not long after, she gets pregnant with their first child.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written as an usual x Reader fic without describing anything about the Reader’s looks but I still classified it as an OC as well since she is a Tyrell. + You don’t have to know the previous chapters to understand this one. I wanted to include Gwayne and Reader having their first child in the previous part already but it was too long and the time skip would be too big so I decided to turn it into yet another chapter of the story. Since the pregnancy and birth would be quite boring, I added some drama with Lord Jason aka Reader's previous suitor from the first chapter (but the details are not required to be known if you haven't read the first part!). There will be one more part to this story for which I am very excited! 😊 Thank you for all the nice comments. 💚

WARNINGS — Lord Jason being himself, pregnancy, birth

WORD COUNT — 6,130

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

LADY OF THE ROSES (III)

First six moons of your marriage had passed by quickly and peacefully. You couldn’t believe it was half a year already and you were very pleased with how everything you had been so scared about turned out to be not so bad – performing marital duties was nothing but pleasure and fun, meanwhile running Oldtown could be exhausting sometimes but you still enjoyed it most of the time and you proudly held your head high while helping your husband with all his obligations around the city and the castle.

Having your own property with your own servants to order around was a good feeling, too. Not that you wanted to abuse the power that had been given to you but it was simply nice not to be someone’s daughter but your own Lady. Well, your husband’s – but he had never made you feel like that. Ser Gwayne Hightower was a chivalrous knight who was treating his duties and honour very seriously. He knew that being a husband did not only mean getting but it also meant giving. He was your protector and a shoulder to cry on, a strong hand to hold you and lead you and fight for you. You trusted him with your life and you would never doubt his loyalty to you.

Sometimes you wondered why had gods blessed you with such a good husband as you doubted if you had deserved him. Not that you were a bad person but you had your flaws – your pride, your stubbornness. Yet, you had not fought even once yet with your Lord Husband.

Well, once, nearly. Gwayne had suggested that perhaps you should start wearing more modest clothing because The Highgarden fashion was a bit too revealing for Oldtown. You had scoffed at that and he had not brought that up ever again.

You knew that The Highgarden fashion was considered too exposing for lots of regions of Westeros. Only Dornish women liked even riskier gowns but Oldtown was a part of The Reach so its people were not shocked to see a Tyrell Lady in a revealing dress. You had a feeling it was your Lord Husband’s personal preference because his own sister was known as a woman of strong faith and modesty like her mother before her.

Despite being Lady Hightower now, you still felt a very strong bond with The Tyrells. You always wore a golden ring with a rose on it and you loved all sorts of ornaments and decorations in the shapes of roses. You were corresponding with your Lady Mother and sisters every week and sometimes you were still signing the letters as Lady (Y/N) Tyrell – out of habit that was visibly saddening your husband whenever he’d catch you doing that.

Just like right now as you were sitting by your desk and Gwayne was handing out letters for you to sign them. Those were some official matters that he was supposed to send out to his vassals but ever since he was married and Oldtown had a Lady, he insisted on you both signing them even though it was not a popular custom for husbands to insist on such things.

You didn’t even read those letters since you trusted him as you mindlessly kept signing a letter after a letter. You gave him back the last one and he sighed, which made you look up and raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Lady (Y/N) Tyrell,” he read out loud and you felt bad at the sight of his sad expression.

“I am sorry,” you reached out to squeeze his wrist. “I was not focused enough,” you admitted.

“I shall rewrite this one,” Gwayne waved the letter in the air.

“No, I shall do it,” you took it from him gently. “Or will it be seen as something inappropriate when they realise it was the wife’s handwriting?”

“No, it won’t be,” Gwayne smiled at you and allowed you to take the letter. “Can I stay here and watch you work?”

“What kind of husband asks such a thing?” You chuckled at him. “Of course, my love,” you leaned into his hand as he caressed your cheek and you placed a soft kiss upon his fingers.

Gwayne sat in the armchair by the window inside your chambers. You would spend some of your days here but all nights so far you had slept with him. However, the chambers he had prepared for you were so beautiful that it would be a waste to never spend your time inside them.

You rewrote the letter and handed it for him to sign and then you could start working on answering the letters that were addressed to you specifically. Gwayne kept sitting in the armchair and looking at you, occasionally staring out of the window. It was peaceful and quiet and you wished that moment could last forever.

The next envelope on the pile of letters made you furrow your brows. It was red and the golden wax seal had The Lannister lion on it. You checked twice if it was really addressed to you and not to your Lord Husband but no, it was very clearly addressed to “Lady (Y/N) Hightower of Oldtown”.

“Weird,” you hummed to yourself when you opened the envelope with a small dagger, without breaking the seal.

“What is it, my darling?” Gwayne turned his head around to look at you since he had been gazing out of the window and staring at the water.

“It is from Lord Jason Lannister and it is addressed to me instead of you,” you told him. It felt quite inappropriate so you wanted your husband to know for you would never hide anything of such a matter from him.

Perhaps you would not be so suspicious about it if you didn’t have a history with Lord Jason. He had been one of your suitors and your father’s favourite. In fact, he had been plotting with your father behind everybody’s back to win the tournament for your hand and he had been playing dirty by using his knight brother to pretend to be him.

“And what does he want?” Gwayne crossed his arms.

“Well, allow me to read the letter first,” you rolled your eyes playfully as you began reading.

Gwayne was trying to be very patient but from the corner of your eye you could see that he was tapping his arms with his fingers and you found it pretty amusing so you read the letter three times before putting it down and taking a deep breath in as you laid your eyes on your husband.

“He wishes to visit us. He claims he was around for his friend’s wedding and he wishes to stay at The Hightower for the night on his way back home,” you explained.

“What friend, I’m wondering?” Gwayne snorted. “Oldtown is never on anyone’s way. It is usually a destination, not a stop.”

“He says his friend is Lord Bulwer, they are our vassals from Blackcrown. He must reach Oldtown to get on the Rose Road. It is a faster way to get back to Casterly Rock than to travel alongside the shore,” you explained because, sadly, Lord Jannister’s excuse sounded very realistic. “Well?” You asked Gwayne. “We must give him an answer.”

“We are not in a state of war with The Lannisters, are we? We shall let him stay for the night,” your husband sighed and stood up to read the letter himself as if he wanted to make sure there was nothing inappropriate in it.

In the meantime, you began working on a reply letter to Lord Jason Lannister. Your husband kept standing behind you and examining every word you were writing down. He had never done that before, even when you had been writing letters of much bigger importance.

“I don’t mind you being in the same room as me while I work but this is a little uncomfortable, my love,” you tried to make him realise calmly when you were about to sign the letter.

“Do not forget your surname this time,” Gwayne reminded you and you furrowed your brows at the tone of his voice. It was not rude but certainly harsher than usual.

“Lady (Y/N) Hightower,” you signed silently, “of House Tyrell,” you added, just to spite Gwayne and you didn’t have to look up to know that he rolled his eyes. However, he did not say anything.

Lord Jason was supposed to come three days later in the evening, right in time for the supper. You wore a green dress for that occasion but you had a rose-shaped jewellery that your husband usually did not mind but on that day he seemed to be bothered by it.

“This jewellery is beautiful, dear wife, but are you sure it goes well with the dress?” He asked during breakfast as you froze.

“Since when are you an expert?” You turned your head around with widened eyes. Well, Gwayne knew quite a lot about fashion but his comment had irritated you.

“Since I am a married man,” he cracked a nervous smile at you.

“Yellow roses always go well with green for those are the Tyrell symbols,” you reminded him with a forced, ironic smile.

“Is this how you wish to greet Lord Jason in Oldtown? As Lady Tyrell?” Gwayne raised an eyebrow at you.

“I have been walking around this city in this very dress and jewellery many times before and you have never said anything!” You protested and Gwayne blushed a bit because he had no idea what else to say.

You went back to eating because you didn’t want to torment him more by pointing out the flaws of his argumentation, however he did not choose silence at all.

“The dress is also quite low-cut,” he mumbled.

“Yes, it is, my beloved Lord, and what about it?” You clenched your fist around the fork you were holding.

“I suspect not many Lord Husbands would want their wives to greet their previous suitors in such a dress,” he commented.

“I have never treated Lord Jason as my suitor,” you scoffed. “And what is wrong with the dress?”

“Nothing,” Gwayne quickly fixed himself. “Nothing is wrong with the dress, my beautiful Lady,” he assured you and went back to eating.

“Are you perhaps jealous of Lord Jason? Do you wish to impress him or show me off as your property?” You asked after the sudden realisation as you laid your eyes on him again.

“Property? No. My wife,” Gwayne clenched his jaw as he explained. “I want to show you off as my Lady Wife.”

“My darling,” you smiled and shook your head as your anger subdued. You leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I would have chosen you as my champion during that tournament even if you were a beggar knight from a peasant family. I would love you even if you were a miller, a carpenter, a fisherman. And no amount of Lannister gold would convince me to go with Lord Jason anywhere,” you assured your husband and fixed his hair gently. “I want to show you off as my Lord Husband in front of him just as much.”

That seemed to calm Gwayne down for now as he nodded with a small smile and even stole a little kiss from your lips. You were alone by the table and the few servants walking around would not scold you for that anyway.

The sun was slowly setting down when you were standing by Gwayne’s side in the courtyard of The Hightower and awaiting Lord Jason Lannister. Your arms were brushing and you kept looking at each other once in a while as if you were giving each other courage. Not that you needed it but Lord Jason was rather insufferable and you knew that losing temper around him would not be good for your relations with The Lannisters. The relations were pretty fragile already anyway.

Finally, you heard the horses and saw a big, elegant carriage with the Lannister lion ornamented on its doors.

“I thought he would travel on a horseback,” Gwayne mumbled.

“Well, he is not a knight. He is used to certain comfort,” you whispered and wore a fake smile that very moment when one of your servants opened the door of the carriage and you saw Lord Jason walking out.

He looked around as if he could not see you nor your husband at first. Then, he faked a smile as well and approached you.

“Lord and Lady Hightower,” he looked you up and down and kissed the palm of your hand when you bowed your head down.

“Lord Lannister,” you greeted him.

“Ser Gwayne,” he nodded at your husband.

“Lord Jason,” Gwayne nodded back. “You must be tired after the journey. Come, the supper is ready and your chambers have been prepared.”

“Thank you. I have never been to The Hightower, I must admit,” Lord Jason followed you inside. He kept looking around like a curious cat.

“How did you get to Blackcrown, my Lord?” You asked him curiously since you and Gwayne had been wondering about it earlier – why was he asking you for a room to stay on his way back only.

“I went there by a ship, Lady Hightower, but the ship was the wedding gift for my friend,” Lord Jason answered and you nodded.

“Your wedding gifts are very generous, my Lord,” Gwayne pointed out.

“Well, I can afford such,” Lord Jason grinned at him as you reached the dining hall. “You must forgive me for not sending one to you, Ser, but in my position of a failed suitor, it would have been pretty humiliating,” he explained and you pretended to understand his point of view.

And it was not like you cared about any gifts from him anyway.

“Please, let us not dwell on the past,” you showed Lord Jason an empty chair by your husband’s side and he took it after you and Gwayne had sat down as well.

“I am not meaning to, my Lady,” Lord Jason informed you proudly. “I am a married man myself now.”

“Oh, are you? Congratulations, my Lord,” you smiled at him even though he had never congratulated you on your union. “To whom?”

“Lady Johanna of House Westerling,” Lord Jason answered and you hummed to yourself.

“Well, she is a lucky Lady,” you tried to be kind.

“Thank you, that is very flattering, Lady Tyrell,” Lord Jason bowed his head and Gwayne shot him a deadly glance. “Oh, do forgive me, Lady Hightower. The colours you are wearing have misled me,” he explained with a grin and you faked a smile but you began to feel guilty for not listening to your husband earlier.

“Green is the colour of House Hightower,” your husband reminded Lord Jason.

“Indeed but the roses…”

“My wife is not forbidden from wearing the emblems of her father’s house,” Gwayne interrupted Lord Jason and it was rude enough to make all of you sit in silence for a moment after that.

“Lord Jason,” you started quickly to change the subject, “why isn’t your Lady Wife with you?”

“It was not recommended in her fragile state. Lady Lannister is expecting,” Lord Jason straightened himself and you could see pride and smugness about him.

“Congratulations, my Lord,” you nodded at him.

“Aren’t you afraid of leaving your pregnant Lady Wife alone for so long when it is no matter of life and death keeping you apart from her, my Lord?” Gwayne asked and you clenched your jaw before kicking him slightly under the table.

“Ser Gwayne, there is nothing in this world women do better than give birth. She does not need my assistance,” Lord Jason found it quite funny, though, as he laughed but he was the only one doing so. “Speaking of, I’ve expected to see Lady Hightower being swollen already. How long has it been now since the wedding? Six moons?”

You froze at his question. It was incredibly rude to be up in other people’s business like that.

You had been discussing the matter of children with Gwayne in the very beginning of your marriage and you both had decided you wanted some time for yourselves before having children and to enjoy each other’s company first. You were regularly drinking teas prepared by The Hightower’s maester to prevent you from getting pregnant and so far it had been working. But if it had failed, you wouldn’t be sad about it either, for you couldn’t wait to have your babes soon anyway.

You exchanged a meaningful look with your husband, not knowing what to say. If you told Lord Jason the truth – that you wanted to wait and enjoy each other’s company – he would only scoff at that and find it hilarious.

“And who has told you that I am not swelling, my Lord?” You answered swiftly before Gwayne opened his mouth.

Lord Jason looked you up and down before humming to himself.

“Well, congratulations, Ser,” he patted Gwayne on his back.

“Thank you,” Gwayne gritted through his teeth and gave you a scolding look. “It is still very early news, though,” he added.

“May the Gods bless Lady Hightower and her offspring,” Lord Jason nodded at you and it somehow felt very sincere.

“Thank you, Lord Jason,” you gave him the very first genuine smile that evening.

The rest of the supper went pretty boringly and you said goodnight to Lord Lannister before the servants took him to his chambers. You and Gwayne went upstairs in awkward silence.

On your way to your husband’s room, you passed the door to your chambers. They were a floor below Gwayne’s chambers that were located at the highest level of The Hightower.

“I shall join you later,” you only mumbled out and he nodded, watching you disappear inside your room.

Your maids were already waiting there to help you into your nighttime attire. You kept sighing and they were exchanging looks.

“How was it, my Lady?” One of them asked. She knew your backstory with Lord Jason because she was one of the girls you had taken with you from The Highgarden.

“Lord Jason is insufferable as always and even though he is married now himself, he finds great enjoyment in tormenting my Lord Husband,” you told her.

“Well, my Lady, I doubt Ser Gwayne is angry at you,” her eyes widened.

“I do not know anymore. I have worn a dress he did not approve of and it indeed caused trouble. I have also said something… Something I should have not said and I have said it to defend his honour but he might not see it this way,” you confessed.

“Ser Gwayne is a very understanding Lord Husband,” the girl assured you and smiled while she brushed your hair.

You kept looking at yourself in the mirror’s reflection but you weren’t sure of her words. That supper had gone worse in the beginning than you had even imagined.

You thanked your maids and they left you alone but you kept sitting in the armchair and staring at yourself and at the candles slowly burning out instead of moving up and joining your husband as you had promised.

For the first time during your marriage, you simply blew out the candles and went inside your own bed. It even felt weird to lay there since you were not used to it but it just felt like the right thing to do on that night.

You couldn’t fall asleep though. And after a while of tossing and turning, you heard the doors open as the wooden floor squeaked under someone’s feet.

“Who is it?” You sat up immediately.

“And who do you think, my Lady?” A familiar voice made you sigh out of relief.

You reached your hand out in the darkness and Gwayne grabbed it as you led him into your bed.

“Why didn’t you bring a candle with you?” You asked.

“I felt a little adventurous,” he chuckled. “And I know my way to you by heart, my beloved Lady,” he added. “Why haven’t you joined me?”

“I thought you didn’t want me to, my Lord,” you admitted when he laid next to you under the cover. You cuddled him immediately by curling up next to him and putting your arm around his waist. “I thought you were cross with me.”

“I am not cross. I simply do not understand why you lied,” he confessed and kissed the top of your head.

“Is it the lie that you’re upset about?” You furrowed your brow. “I do value your honour but…”

“Not the lie itself,” Gwayne interrupted you. “Why didn’t you allow me to inform Lord Jason that we do not wish for children yet?”

“Because he would not understand and find you weak or assume you are unable to produce an heir and it is nothing but an excuse. I wanted to spare you further embarrassments,” you explained. “And… I am sorry for the dress…” You added, looking down.

“Do not be. I am sorry for insisting,” Gwayne rubbed your back. “And thank you for wanting to spare me embarrassments but now we are facing quite a challenge, aren’t we, my love?”

“What do you mean, my Lord?” You looked up, finding his blue eyes in the darkness of your chambers.

“I mean that Lord Jason now believes that you are expecting, my darling,” Gwayne smirked a little and you furrowed your brows.

“Oh no,” you gasped, faking the dramatic aspect of it. “And what shall we do about it now?” You wondered theatrically.

“Well, I have quite a few ideas,” Gwayne leaned in to join your lips together in a kiss as his hands pulled you even closer by your waist.

“Are you sure?” You breathed out between one hasty kiss and another.

“Only if you are,” he assured you.

“I am,” you nodded. “I am, I am, I am…” You kept repeating, suddenly realising how eager you indeed were to have your own little babe before you allowed your husband’s lips to devour yours with yet another passionate kiss.

Thankfully, Lord Jason was supposed to leave Oldtown after breakfast. You greeted him in the morning in another green dress and even though this one was pretty low-cut, too, you decided not to wear any roses on that day. Instead, you wore a necklace with The Hightower that had once belonged to Gwayne’s late Lady Mother.

Lord Jason kept staring at your chest and the necklace until it became a little uncomfortable and he cleared his throat before looking up to meet your cold gaze that you were gracing him with.

“I must admit I have not expected The Hightower to be that grand. It really is as tall as they say,” he bowed his head at you.

“We Light The Way, Lord Lannister,” you reminded him with a forced smile.

“Of course, Casterly Rock remains taller,” he added and you put the cutlery down, irritated. Gwayne gave you a look to remind you to stay polite.

“My Lord, why the remark? Is it a contest?” You asked him, trying not to sound too angry. “It is not the size of the castle that proves manhood. I do believe that you have already shown yours during the tournament for my hand in marriage,” you reminded him of his shameful behaviour and cheating. “The tournament which my husband has won fairly and justly,” you added.

Lord Jason did not say anything. He looked down and went back to eating while his cheeks' colour started to resemble The Lannister emblem.

You squeezed Gwayne’s hand under the table and the rest of the breakfast went pretty smoothly. You went outside to the courtyard to watch Lord Jason ride away. His farewell was pretty short and official. He was not trying to make any jokes anymore.

“My darling, you have acted as if you were a knight and I was a lady in distress,” Gwayne chuckled at you once you were finally free of Lord Lannister.

“Sometimes you are, my Gwayne,” you smiled at him sweetly and leaned in to steal a kiss from his cheek.

“Shall I get you a sword, my sweet?” He teased you and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Perhaps another time, Lord Husband,” you chuckled at that.

Two moons later you were watching Gwayne training with his sword as he was teaching a young squire on the courtyard. The day was quite hot but you had nothing else to do and you loved to watch him train anyway so you were sitting on a wooden bench, trying to remain in the shadow but you felt awful nevertheless. The sun felt too warm, the corset seemed to be too tight no matter how many times you had asked your maids to loosen it and you were hungry but too nauseous to eat. You blamed your condition on the weather and your upcoming monthly bleeding, which was late already but the soreness of your breasts could only mean that it would come very soon.

Gwayne kept looking at you from the corner of his eye with a worried expression because he could see that something was not right – you looked exhausted and your skin was a shade paler than normally. There were bags under your eyes and your voice sounded weak whenever you cheered for him or his squire.

He knew he was most likely overreacting but he was panicking deep inside that you could be seriously ill like his mother had been. The beginnings of each illness looked the same and losing you so fast after marrying you would surely kill him, too.

You were too exhausted to even notice the worried look on his face. You raised your head to shield your face from the sun and you felt a sudden dizziness that made you flutter your eyelids as your head grew heavy before losing consciousness for a short while.

When you opened your eyes again, the very first thing you saw was Gwayne’s furrowed brows and blue eyes filled with worry and fear. His cheeks were so pale that his freckles were more visible than ever and the strands of his auburn hair were tickling your face. His squire was standing behind him with widened eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” You asked and looked around while your vision was slowly coming back.

“You have fainted, my love,” Gwayne swallowed thickly.

“It must be due to the heat,” you tried to explain.

“Mayhaps. But I shall not underestimate your condition,” he picked you up the bridal style, carefully.

“What are you doing, my Lord?” You chuckled weakly at him.

“I am taking you to the maester,” your husband answered with all seriousness.

You didn’t protest because you knew he was worried and to be honest so were you. You only hoped that the maester would confirm that it was nothing serious.

Gwayne’s squire opened the door leading to maester’s chambers in front of you both and The Hightower’s maester stood up to bow his head. He had been sitting by his desk and working on something before you came inside.

“My Lord, My Lady,” he greeted you. “Is everything alright?”

“No, maester. My Lady Wife has fainted,” Gwayne laid you down gently on a bed.

“It is because of the heat!” You protested.

“Mayhaps,” the maester hummed to himself and approached you to examine you with his hands as Gwayne stood above him and watched worryingly. “Have you slept well, my Lady?”

“Oh, I can’t sleep for about two weeks now,” you admitted and yawned a little at the mention.

“I understand. What have you had for breakfast, my Lady?” The maester furrowed his brows.

“I was too nauseous to eat,” you confessed.

“May I ask you when was your last bleeding?” The maester raised an eyebrow.

“It should come any day now for it was more than a moon ago… I am sure it is going to come, though. My breasts are sore,” you lowered your voice a little, feeling uncomfortable with the way he was looking at you and Gwayne’s presence hovering above the both of you.

“May I?” The maester lifted his hands and you opened your mouth to answer but you noticed that he was looking at your husband and not at you.

“I mean, if you must…” Gwayne cleared his throat. “And if the Lady agrees,” he added and only then the maester laid his eyes on you.

“Go on,” you nodded and your heart skipped a beat when he grabbed your breasts gently through the fabric of the dress and squeezed them carefully. You hissed at the feeling.

The maester hummed to himself and moved his hands away before looking up at Gwayne again. Your husband shook his head out of anticipation.

“And?!” He asked.

“Lady Hightower is expecting. Congratulations, my Lord,” the maester informed and you opened your mouth slightly at that revelation.

“I… I am with child?” You inquired and sat up, feeling the sudden outburst of energy.

“I am quite certain of it. Too many symptoms confirming,” the maester nodded. “And when was it that my Lady stopped drinking the tea? Two moons ago, right?”

“That is quite right,” Gwayne answered and took you by your hand. He squeezed your fingers gently and sat on the edge of your bed. He placed a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and looked deep into your eyes with such a loving expression that you felt butterflies all over your body even though you had been married for more than half a year now.

The maester walked away and sat back by his desk to give you some space but you completely forgot about his presence anyway for all that mattered was your husband and his child you were apparently carrying under your heart.

“Oh, Gwayne…” You stuttered out as your eyes filled with happy tears. “So it is happening… And to think we have Lord Jason Lannister to thank…”

“My Lady!” Gwayne frowned and chuckled. “Do not say such things. Some people might get ideas…”

“That is true, I guess,” you laughed at his comment. “Are you still certain that you will not mind a daughter if it is a girl?”

“All I care for is your safety. And the child’s. In that exact order,” he answered and you gave him a faint smile.

“Whether they’re a boy or a girl, I just wish for them to be like their father,” you squeezed Gwayne’s hand lovingly. “That is my greatest wish.”

A slight blush covered his cheeks and you smiled at his reaction. It was quite easy to make him flustered with such compliments for he had not been getting many in his childhood. He had been left alone at eight years old, raised by all the septas and maesters of The Hightower alongside older knights teaching him the craft and chivalry. His life had been quite a lonely one but it no longer would be for you would fill the corridors and courtyards with tiny little Hightowers running around.

Your screams could be heard on every floor of The Hightower – a monument taller than The Wall itself – at least that was what your husband had claimed with a chuckle when you nearly crushed his hand while squeezing it tightly. You gave him a deadly look and he lovingly wiped your sweaty face, pushing away all the hair strands that got stuck to your forehead.

You knew that Gwayne was trying to distract you with his jokes here and there but overall he was very worried – perhaps even more than you were since your pain was too overwhelming to focus on anything else. The septas were busy around you, wiping your sweat away, helping you to drink water and telling you when to push as they monitored the birthing process.

You had not expected your Lord Husband to actually be there for you but he had not disappointed you. You had been conflicted at first for you had been told once that wives should not allow their husbands inside during labour. But you were too scared to go through this alone and the pain was much greater than what you had imagined as well. Gwayne’s presence was bringing you great comfort even if sometimes he was annoying you.

The birth had started after breakfast and the sun was slowly going down already but the septas were assuring you that it would not take long from now on. Gwayne had not left your side even for a moment throughout the whole day.

“I did not mean to upset you, my love,” he explained, caressing your hand as if it was the most delicate thing in the world and not a deadly machine that had nearly crushed his hand on several occasions that day. “You are the bravest woman in the Realm to me. In all the Realms of this world, in fact,” he assured you and you just couldn’t be angry at him any longer.

You smiled and wished to tell him something equally sweet when a sharp pain distracted you and you turned your head around while wincing and squeezing your husband’s hand tightly again.

“I can see the head!” One of the septas screamed. “Go, fetch the maester!” She ordered the young girl who was only getting her training but seeing her pale face and terrified expression, you wondered if she regretted her decision to become a septa.

On the other hand, as a septa she would never have to go through what you were going through at the moment.

The girl ran out of the room and you kept taking deep breaths in and pushing like the eldest septa was instructing you. Gwayne kept holding your hand throughout that but seeing his face, he needed the breathing instructions as well.

The maester entered the chambers in a hurry with the scared young septa after him and in that very moment the child’s screams and crying filled the room. The sound was so loud and determined that you immediately knew that there was nothing to worry about for only a healthy and strong child could make such a fuss.

The maester hurried to the newborn baby and Gwayne was trying to see as much as possible through all the septas swarming up around you to clean you up a little and wipe your face from all the sweat.

“It is a boy,” the maester informed and you couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

You knew your Lord Husband could not care less about it but you did care – you loved him and you wanted to give him an heir.

“Is he alright?” Gwayne asked with a raspy voice.

“See for yourself, my Lord. He is a perfectly healthy babe,” the maester approached you two and handed Gwayne his firstborn son. He showed your husband how to hold the little head up and you watched with a loving smile the little bundle of joy staining your husband’s clothes with blood as he was screaming his lungs out.

“He is beautiful,” Gwayne mumbled and moved closer to you as you reached out your weak hands to hold your own babe as well. He placed him gently on your chest but his eyes were fixated on the boy. “Thank you for him, my love.”

“I thank you, my Lord,” you answered but you did not look up at him either since you kept staring at the screaming child. But when he felt your skin and your heartbeat, he stopped crying immediately and just kept staring at you with huge eyes. You chuckled at that and cried happy tears. “How do you want to name him?”

“Lord Edmund Hightower?” Gwayne suggested. It was no surprise to you that he did not propose his father’s name and you liked the sound of Edmund Hightower, so you nodded. You could not care less about the name, you were just glad to have a son and you thought it was only fair for the father to choose his heir’s name anyway.

“I like the sound of that,” you assured your husband as you looked up to meet his gaze.

“So do I,” Gwayne nodded. “And the sight, my Lady,” he added and you felt your cheeks heating up.

Only Gwayne knew how to make you flustered still, after over a year of marriage and right after giving birth to a child, dirty with blood and sweat but to him you were nothing but a victorious warrior that had just survived a battlefield and he admired you now more than ever before.

MASTERLIST